Disclaimer: Hey guys! I don't own Hellsing! :) (Just in case that wasn't obvious)
III.
It took Seras a moment to process that the one person she'd been mulling the morning over was literally looming over her. He stood so close to the back of her chair that she actually had to crane her head back to catch a glimpse of his face, darkly tinted eyeglasses and all. A faint hint of musky pine and… something else drifted off of him. She couldn't place it but it was so familiar… it was on the tip of her tongue…
He gently laid his hand on her shoulder and paced to her right side, glancing over the textbooks with irritatingly amused interest. Once again, they were so close. Too close.
"This isn't the average reading material for a lady, Miss Victoria." He said as he casually thumbed through her copy of An Analysis of a Criminal Philosophy.* Seras couldn't help but be irritated that he had lost her page.
Seras stared at the Count for a moment in a sort of dumbstruck surprise at the lack of formal greetings. He was supposed royalty, and he was walking around old libraries unannounced and disregarding formalities? She hadn't even risen at his arrival, let alone adress him!
Seras practically tumbled out of her chair and took a few – many – steps back from the table and the Count, who still had his hand in her book and his eyes on her. The eyes that she still couldn't meet, couldn't even see.
And oh lord, oh no, they were alone.
By being so generous as to give her jewelry, although rather forward, he had made his intentions quite clear. Seras' eyes narrowed for a moment. She had already told him once that she was a respectable lady that would not allow herself to be trifled with, yet here she was foolishly wearing his gift. Perhaps it would be best to politely address the Count and then take herself out of what could become a rather scandalous situation.
"Good Morning, My Lord." Seras curtsied demurely, making sure to keep her eyes on the floor. Her family couldn't afford a scandal, not while Edith had yet to be married.
"Morning? It's half past one in the afternoon." The Count drawled as he slowly stretched in to Seras' discarded chair. He liked to take his time, slowly relaxing each and every long, defined limb with masculine ease.
Oh, God, she had to stop before she started blushing.
She hoped that she hadn't already. She could feel his eyes on her, absorbing her every move. It wasn't fair that he had the advantage of hiding his eyes, such an incriminating component of body language, and she didn't. She was certain he could read her like an open book. She was certain he knew she was attracted to him – she was wearing his necklace, for goodness' sake.
…speaking of which, it'd probably be best to thank him for that before she ran away.
She held her hands at her waist, but didn't avert her eyes. She had always been told that forward men like him were not gentlemen; men like him were dangerous. She had to be assertive in this situation. After all, if she couldn't get a spoiled noble like him off her back, how did she ever expect to reprimand criminals? The question gave her strength, made her remember her determination and let her find her voice.
"I've seemed to have lost track of time." Seras was happy to find her voice so steady. "If it is truly so late, then I must beg leave, My Lord, to see that I pay my respects this afternoon." Yes, very good. Now all she had to do was thank him and she'd be on her way.
"And with whom are you to visit?" The Count spoke suddenly, his smile turned cruel and mocking. "Soft-spoken harpies whom you despise but are obligated not to? Women who barely have the capacity to think of things beside dresses and balls, men and jewelry?"
Seras was quiet, because yes, that was what she had been planning to do. It was what she was expected to do, it was her duty, and it was what she had been doing during the Season for the past two years. It had gotten her this far… not that she particularly enjoyed it. In fact, Seras hated it, but she couldn't let him know that. She had to be leaving, anyway.
The Count sat quietly with chin in hand, watching her with a certain spark in his eye. Her mouth went dry, and although she wanted nothing more than to get away, she also couldn't bear to leave their conversation on such a note. She couldn't bear him thinking her weak, like all the other society girls.
"I never said I enjoyed it." Seras' voice was quiet, but strong. The Count sat up, a sort of smile that she couldn't identify on his face.
"No indeed, and yet we both know that this afternoon, that is where you shall be. Just like all afternoons past." She hated the way he said it. It made her feel ashamed of the monotonous, passive life she had lead so far.
"And what choice do I have in the matter, my Lord?" Seras took a step forward, her voice lightly laced with a certain degree of defiance. "To defy social customs is to invite excommunication, which opens a door to a new townhouse among the laborers." She was at the opposite side the table now and pulled back a chair in one swipe, much to the Count's amusement. Seras flopped down into the creaky old seat and reached across to grab her theoretic psychology text out of the Count's grasp. He only smiled. All he ever did was smile that awful, creepy smile.
"I do not believe the laboring poor can afford townhomes." He was teasing her again. This time she didn't hesitate to outright glare at him.
"And how would you ever suspect to know? You're a Count, a prince. I doubt you've dealt with any situation worse than having to call for a forgotten fireplace to be lit." And from the sudden deep, terrifying frown that appeared on the Count's face, Seras guessed that she had finally fallen out of favor.
"One should not speak of things one knows little of." His voice was cold enough to cause the temperature to plummet a few degrees. Seras physically shivered – and had it suddenly gotten darker? The shadows from the bookshelves seemed longer than they had been a moment ago, and never had that unlit fireplace looked so foreboding. The cracked little old lamp flickered. Yes, Seras had officially fallen from grace, and it was time to make her escape. She slowly closed her textbook.
"So Miss Victoria, please do me the favor of explaining your interest in such material." He asked as soon as she had closed her book and made to get up.
Seras stared at him for a long moment. The Count had reverted right back to normal as if nothing had ever happened. Seras wasn't certain whether to be relieved or unsettled.
"Its purpose serves to prepare for the written exam for the Metropolitan Police Force." Seras finally spoke with a little piece of quiet pride. Usually she would never dare tell anyone such a thing, as she knew almost no one would accept her for it. Her mother had abused her for it, and her sister had laughed at the very idea. However, the Count was so strange, perhaps he would hold a different opinion.
It was very probable that he wouldn't, but Seras was getting a little desperate for some sort of encouragement. It was hard trying to achieve your dreams when you were constantly being berated for them.
The Count was quiet for a long moment. And then he laughed.
The Count laughed so hard that a bit of color appeared over his pallid complexion, and he had to grip the side of his stomach. He leaned forward in his chair and swung his walking stick over his lap, finally finishing the outburst with a slow series of chuckles. He looked up at her, his eyes still hidden by those damn eyeglasses. Seras was so affronted that she was speechless.
"Laugh all you want." She snipped tersely once she had regained her composure. She refused to acknowledge the tears beginning to sting her eyes. "One day my name will be listed on the registrar." It would be. She see to make it so.
The Count regarded her with another bemused smile. "You are a surprising lady, Miss Victoria… although, I doubt one who is a police girl can be deemed a lady."
"I can be both, Count." Seras tried to sound stern as she flipped back open to her page and picked up from where she left off. Like hell she was leaving now. She had work to do, and she wasn't going to be scared away by some spoiled noble who disregarded her so casually! He could be the one to leave! So she went back in to the text, trying her best to ignore his existence.
She had just gotten through three long, drawn-out pages when he chose to speak again.
"No, Miss Victoria, you cannot." Her head snapped up from the book in surprise. This time was no teasing smirk, no playful ire to his smile. His lips were tilted in to a solemn frown and his hands were folded on the table as if they were in the midst of discussing some battle strategy or coup d'état.
"Excuse me?" She just couldn't really get over the fact that he rebuked her statement from ten minutes ago.
"One cannot be a respectable lady and a police woman, Miss Victoria, unless the position of inspector prescribes for baking, sewing, drawing, reading, and other womanly affairs. Such a life deals with the underbelly of rotten society – it will chew you up, spit you out, and let you rot in your cynicism and broken ideals." He leaned a little further over the table, and Seras unconsciously mimicked his movements.
"A true 'lady' could never survive in such an environment, and it would be morally apprehensible to subject her to it." He was finished speaking but Seras felt as if he still had more to say; or, perhaps she just wanted to hear him say more.
Seras avoided his gaze for a moment before realizing just how stupid she was acting. Here she was, determinedly studying for her exam, only to be put out by some man she just met? He wasn't even from England! Count or no count, what did he know? Seras met his gaze once again.
He knew nothing!
"Those who are not willing to sacrifice everything will never change anything. And if I don't do something to introduce a change for tomorrow, who will?" Seras flipped the page of her book, her eyes darting back and forth from his gaze to the text. She still had work to do.
"So then you're willing to become a martyr, Miss Victoria?" He smirked, but Seras could tell it was an attempt to cover something else up. "How noble… how idealistic. How interesting, how unique…" He murmured. She jolted up when she heard the shriek of his chair pushed back, and her heartbeat increased as he started to walk toward her side of the table. He now had her full attention.
"But do you really think they'll let a woman, a woman like you, on the force? Someone so soft and blonde, so innocent and sweet… it would be a crime, they'd say, to put you in harm's way." He was taking his precious time and was only half way around the table.
"And it wouldn't matter if you scored highest on the written and physical exams, my dear Police Girl, because they'd say a man would naturally be better adept than a woman anyway. A woman would faint at the sight of blood, and a woman would be too afraid to confront criminals and convicts. A woman could never handle such a life, Police Girl." He was next to her now, though not as close as before, and her body responded with the same fight-or-flight reaction like it had back then.
She chose to fight.
"Then… I'll make them change! I will not allow them to define me! I will not allow them to decide my life based on preconceived prejudices!" She stood. The Count leaned on the table, observing her with that same small, searching smile that she couldn't trust.
"Change is not always within your power, Police Girl. There are some things in this world that are meant to be decided for us." The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. It was some sort of heavily veiled and disguised threat, but about what she couldn't imagine. But what she did know was that it was a good time to leave when threats were being handed out.
She began to stack the textbooks and he stood from the table, making his way to the fireplace to start a fire. Her gaze couldn't help but follow his elegant, masculine form as it slid across the room, allowing an ample display of his lower half when he-
"Seras dear!"
Seras was snapped out of her embarrassing daydream at the sound of Edith's voice. If she didn't know better, Seras swore she heard something like a hiss or a sigh coming from the direction of the Count. But that was silly – the count was supposedly a gentleman, after all.
"Oh, Edith!" Seras stood abruptly to greet her sister with a flustered smile. And then she realized just how much trouble she was in by the flabbergasted look on her sister's face.
Edith's eyes darted from Seras to the Count, who was still slinking around by the new fire, and then back to Seras. There were a lot of questions that demanded immediate answers, but weren't meant to be voiced outside the safety of their childhood bedrooms. For the present they simply had to pretend like nothing was the matter, even though Seras could read Edith's disapproval like an open book.
And it wasn't as if it was wrong of her to disapprove. Had anyone else caught sight of her and the Count alone in a private, hidden away corner of the library… well, the rumors certainly wouldn't have done wonders for either of their reputations.
The room was awkwardly quiet. The Count was still by the fireplace, leaning against the wall like he owned the place. And perhaps, Seras mused, he did. You never really knew what went on among all those "foreign investments." He seemed to be watching their exchange, but one could never be totally certain because of those eyeglasses, and for once he wasn't smiling. He was scarily impassive.
Seras coughed lightly, gaining Edith and the Count's attention, and smiled sheepishly.
"I hope you'll both forgive me, for I fear I can be a tad slow at times." She tried to laugh lightly, tried to pretend like there suddenly wasn't such an awful, tense atmosphere between the three of them.
"Miss Edith Victoria, may I introduce you to Count Dracul of Wallachia?" Seras took her sister's hand and led her to where the Count was situated. She noticed with a tad of dismay that he didn't extend his hand right away. Seras didn't appreciate the thought of him trying to snub her sister, but quickly pushed it to the back of her mind. She was probably exaggerating.
"My Lord, may I introduce you to Miss Edith Victoria?" Seras chirped, breathing a sigh of relief when he took her sister's hand and bent over to kiss the top of it (without, Seras noticed, smelling her wrist.)
But then when he straightened… well, Seras thought that he didn't seem too happy. While she certainly wasn't acquainted well enough with the Count to gauge his emotions and reactions, this one was certainly off.
His expression was stony, listless at best. He offered Edith no witty banter to exchange, no polite small talk. Seras shifted uncomfortably.
"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Count Dracul." And there was something off about Edith as well. Last night she had practically arranged a manhunt to find the very man in front of her but now seemed rather uncertain, standoffish even.
The Count merely nodded in response, taking a few steps back to stand next to Seras again. If Edith was offended by the Count's less than exuberant response, she didn't show it.
She held back a shiver when their arms brushed – god, she wasn't some quivering schoolgirl. She should not be so affected by a man… he was just a man, after all. There were plenty enough of them out there. Seras bit her lip as silence once again reigned free. Was she expected to make conversation now?
"Unfortunately My Lord, I must beg our leave of you. We are expected home shortly." Seras blinked. She hadn't even gotten through a chapter in one of her texts, and Seras knew that at least she wasn't due back until well into the afternoon. Was the carriage even here yet?
"Edith," Seras started. She really needed to get some reading done, and she couldn't very well take the texts home for fear of her mother discovering them. Unfortunately for Seras, Edith couldn't have cared less.
"Our greatest of apologies, My Lord." Edith said with another deep curtsey, although Seras could tell she really wasn't sorry. But why? Why so eager to get away from- Seras bit back a hiss when Edith grabbed her hand with a harsh pinch as she tried to pull her away.
Oh, right. Potential scandal caused by being alone with an influential, much older and probably much more experienced suitor.
"You cannot leave now." Seras watched Edith stiffen at the Count's blatant command. Slowly, both sisters turned to a less than happy nobleman.
"I beg-"
"The storm has just begun, and what of your carriage? Are you truly certain of it being right outside for your disposal? Your father is a busy man who cannot afford to have his daughters running about the town."
"I believe it to be waiting outside, or at least close to arriving, My Lord." Edith responded with what Seras could tell was a forced smile. Seras pulled her hand of her sister's.
The Count raised a brow without a smile, and knocked his wolf-headed walking stick on the floor with an air of finality. "Well then, shall we assure you ladies do not ruin your hems in the rain and see if Miss Edith is correct?" He remarked snidely as he glided by the two and disappeared around one of the tall bookcases.
The sisters watched the space for a moment in stunned silence before following after, one curious and one reluctant. They chose to ignore the comment about their hems – he was, after all, a noble. Seras yipped when Edith grabbed her wrist from behind, forcefully pulling her back to walk at her side.
"Seras, just what have you been doing?" Edith hissed into her ear, her voice more frantic and fearful than Seras had expected it to be. She had thought Edith would've been angry as opposed to afraid.
Seras eyed Edith with uncertainty. "I was studying, sister. That's all." Edith gave her an unnerving stare.
"And he?"
"He… joined me after I settled in."
"Seras!"
"Edith, I swear to you that nothing happened!" Seras furiously whispered, feeling her face flush at the accusation. "I-I made to leave, but he spoke of things that I could not in good conscience leave without challenging!"
Edith practically groaned, the stark opposite of ladylike behavior. Seras couldn't help but stare at the display. Come to think of it, Edith was nothing like her usual self. Her cheeks were flushed and her complexion was blotchy at best. Worst of all, her hems with flecked with spots of mud, and her curls were windblown and spiked with frizz. "Seras, you allow your stubbornness to guide you too often! Imagine what hecould have done!"
Seras didn't say anything more. Something was very, very off. Edith was not acting herself. And Seras didn't want to say that something was wrong, because so far nothing was and God forbid fate should decide to change that for her. But Edith was never like this… she was too afraid of being seen and slighted for a lack of composure, afraid of giving anyone something to use against her.
It was a good thing Seras believed in free will rather than fate.
The Count was already standing by the doorway when the sisters arrived and cast rather impatient glances out one of the large windows, where large raindrops began to beat against the glass. For Seras, today's experience with the Count had equivocated to meeting an entirely different man from the ball.
Well, the more she thought about the night previous, the more obvious some of his peculiarities became. His irritation, his impatience, his arrogance, his oddity… all were quickly coming to light. Seras wasn't sure if she wanted a suitor like him, just another man who believed that by marrying her she suddenly became his property whether she liked it or not. Did he really think that she was fickle-minded enough to fall in love with him because he gave her pretty, shiny things?
She looked down at the crystal hanging at her neck in all its glory and scowled to herself.
"Do you find fault with it?" She looked up, caught off guard. The Count had apparently pulled himself out of his reverie just in time to witness her making faces at the undoubtedly priceless crystal necklace he had graciously gifted her with.
Wow Seras, way to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Oh," Seras blushed in embarrassment, "no! I.. It's… You were the one to give it to me, then?'
"Obviously." Again, he hadn't been this rude last night.
"T-thank you." She was trying not to be intimidated by his dark expression (which was perfectly back dropped by the ongoing thunderstorm), but found herself failing to do so. Badly.
"You dislike it." Why were all the nobles she had met recently so blunt?
"No!" Seras quickly bit back, taking a step forward. Surprised by her own sudden brashness, Seras's blush darkened and she stepped back next to Edith. "No, what I meant was that… that…"
He might as well have just started tapping his foot impatiently on floor with the peevish look he was giving her.
"The necklace and the pin were both very beautiful. But I don't deserve…" She paused, not wanting to belittle herself, "…don't need such flattery. You needn't spend such excess on one such as me." Hopefully that was acceptable enough and he wouldn't take offense, but you could never be sure about the aristocracy when ego came in to play.
For a moment, Edith thought the Count was surprised by her sister's words. But any lingering traces of astonishment were quickly paved over by a small, overly amused and almost satisfied smile.
"Such trinkets matter little to me when I have so many, Miss Victoria. Consider them a gift for allowing one such as myself the pleasure of your company last night." His wording and ill-hidden innuendo made her tongue go dry, and for a moment she could only nod before she could gather her wits about her. Good lord, she had to get a hold of herself! What was wrong with her? She had never had so much trouble interacting with a man before!
But wait… if it had only been a gift, did that mean he didn't intend to court her? She relaxed slightly at the thought while another part of her simultaneously crumpled in disappointment. Seras decided not to address that thought process at the moment.
"Speaking of company…" the Count said as he turned back to the window, just in time to see a sparkling new black carriage lead by two thoroughbred Friesians stop in front of the library. "My coach has arrived. Might I offer assistance to such fine young ladies? It would kill the gentleman inside of me to leave you here, alone and waiting for your carriage in the cold rain." He had decide to switch back to the persona Seras had familiarized herself with last night, right down to the satirical smile and cock of the head.
Seras and Edith exchanged glances. It wasn't as if they weren't going to be standing in the library, watching for their father's older coach from the window.
"Thank you for your concern, My Lord," Edith began, "but I'm afraid our coach will be expecting us. With great regret we must decline your offer." She offered a sorry smile. The Count didn't seem put out in the least.
"Oh come now Miss Victoria, are you really going to deny me, the Lord of Wallachia?" He slowly walked away from the window, his footsteps clicking on the faded wood flooring. "You would greatly offend me and leave me with a horrid impression of Englishmen." Edith's expression faltered slightly.
"It is not proper. We are respectable ladies, and respectable ladies do not ride unattended in closed carriages with men."
"Wonderful! We are in agreement. By the prescience of both sisters neither one is unattended, and have no reason to worry because they will not be accompanied by a man, but a gentleman." His smile was cunning and malicious, all too aware of the trap he had set. He confidently strode forward to take each sister's arm in one of his own and pulled them toward the door.
Edith shuddered as a drop of cold sweat fall down her back. Seras' heart rate had somehow gone up another notch at his very touch. They were trapped, and all three of them knew it.
The carriage ride hadn't been as bad as Edith had predicted… but then, she had mentally prepared herself for the worst. Traffic was light – as could be predicted for a Sunday – and the supposed criminal hadn't assaulted or attacked them the minute he pulled the door closed. In fact, he hadn't even paid much attention to her at all and chose to focus much of the conversation on Seras, much to her own relief and unease.
But Sir Hellsing's words floated through her mind every time Seras answered one of the Count's questions, though to be fair all of them were relatively innocent. What was her favorite flower? Who were her friends? When was her birth date? Where was she born?
A majority of the ride was spent discussing some new, thick, Russian book Edith had never found the interest or time to read: Peace and War, War and Peace, whatever it was called.
They liked to debate justice and fairness. The Count's less than merciful views made her feel uncomfortable, and from her sister's reactions, Seras shared in her misgivings. But that didn't stop her from occasionally giggling and flirting and doing the exact opposite of what Edith had hoped she was going to do. It didn't help that the Count was being surprisingly flirtatious as well – apparently books brought the best out of him?
Edith didn't want to play the villain's role. She had hoped that Seras would've given this man the polite indifference and rejection that she gave all her other suitors. But of course for this man, that wasn't the case. It was just Edith's luck that Seras would be flirty, flustered, intrigued, irritated, and attracted to only this man.
Of course.
No matter, Edith tried to reconcile with herself as the carriage pulled to a halt outside their brown brick townhouse. It was no matter of her concern, Edith thought as she watched the Count leap from the carriage to offer his hand to the ladies still inside. It was up to her parents, her mother, to make the decision, not her. It was none of her concern.
She watched Seras take his hand to be practically dragged out of the carriage like she weighed nothing more than a flower. She watched as Seras stumbled from the abrupt pull and ended up almost flush against the Count's chest, the smug smirk and strategically placed hand on Seras' lower back all too telling.
Edith helped herself down, forgotten, and watched as her sister flew from his grasp with a fluster of apologies and self-beratings. The Count smiled as he said something to her sister, which of course only made her sputter more and indignantly move toward the front step. Edith turned her attention from Seras, only then to meet his momentarily uncovered gaze from over his eye glasses.
His red-as-blood gaze.
And then the eyeglasses were replaced, he turned to follow Seras up the step, and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. But oh, that thing was entering her home! That thing had been invited in! She had to move, she had to warn them!
Edith jerked from her stupor and ran up the slick steps, tripping on her skirts once or twice, to practically throw herself through the ornately decorated door only to find her father and an apparently visiting Mr. Thornsbury shaking hands with the monstrosity. Seras was being mauled by their mother, who was covertly pulling and smoothing every wrinkle in Seras' dress and skin.
Edith stood in the doorway, watching. For a moment she thought she saw his face flicker in her direction with the hint of one of those awful smiles. It was a smile that kept her up late that night and helped her finish a hasty letter to Sir Hellsing.
Sir Hellsing,
Your expertise may be required after all. After experiencing certain events, I would be most indebted to you if you could spare an afternoon to speak about the circumstances. I find myself in a grievous need of your advice, and I pray it is not too late.
The wording was labored over and laced with hyperbole and double meaning for fear of it being opened by the wrong eyes before reaching Sir Hellsing. After it was postmarked and sneakily placed in the gilded gold mailbox on the front stoop, its writer returned to bed with a heart made lighter by the knowledge of initiating a possible solution. It was a good thing that she was unaware of the creeping shadow that easily read the letter through the envelope, able to catch on to her every meaning.
{A/N}
Notes:
- Alexander Bain didn't write An Analysis of a Criminal Philosophy. In fact, no one did. I made it up!
- According to social norms at the time, any young lady caught alone with her suitor was doomed to social damnation under the assumption that her respectability (aka virginity or lord knows what else) could've been potentially lost in the encounter.
Did anyone catch the Armin Arlert quote?
Until next time,
Della