Chapter III:
His Butler, Ill Met
Lady Elizabeth Midford, the youngest child of the Marquess of Midford and Lady Francis Midford, the sister of the deceased Earl Vincent Phantomhive, was not known for calm, well-planned action. In fact, it would be far more accurate to say she was a rash young woman entirely governed by her emotions (as some would say was common in the so-called 'fairer' sex). That was why, as soon as Mr. Tanaka had called her family home and Lizzie had been informed of her cousin's current condition, she had rushed to his side. She hadn't asked for her parents' permission, she hadn't waited for her maid to escort her, she hadn't even bothered to change out of her house gown and re-curl her hair. Instead, Lizzie had simply grabbed her usual bonnet and cloak and had stormed up to their driver, screeching that, if he didn't take her to the Phantomhive manor, she would take her mother's horse and go by herself. And so the driver had, most hesitantly, taken her.
Oh, Ciel; you poor dear. Elizabeth sat at the foot of her betrothed's bed, quite beside herself even now. Mr. Tanaka and Snake hadn't been lying when they had told her Ciel was sleeping off the fever. She'd never seen him sleep so soundly before, and, in such an oversized bed, Ciel had never looked so small. It was…surprisingly cute, especially when one considered how much Ciel was determined to be viewed as an adult.
The cuteness was ruined by her cousin's utter lack of movement.
"You'll be quite alright, Ciel. I know you will," Lizzie whispered, clenching her hands in the black silk and pink crepon of her dress. She knew, deep down, that Ciel thought she was emotionally weak and that she was always in his way. Just this once, she wanted to be strong for him. Like she had tried to be when they were attacked aboard the Campania. She wanted to be there for him as he always was for her; she wanted them to be able to protect each other. She didn't want to cry.
Against her will, her green eyes burned with unshed tears. Her throat worked, constricting painfully as she futilely wiped at her eyes.
Elizabeth didn't—no; she couldn't bear to lose Ciel again. Not now. She remembered, all those years ago, when the Phantomhive estate had been burned to the ground. They had buried both her uncle and her aunt and an empty coffin for her cousin. And Lizzie had cried and cried and cried, not knowing where he was or if he was alive or dead. And so her clothes had turned black, and her mood had turned black, and her thoughts had turned black.
Her entire world had turned black.
As black as night or crow's wings.
And then, one excruciatingly long month later, Ciel came back. And all was to be happy and bright and cheerful again…but that never came to pass. Though the boy she could see and touch and speak with looked like Ciel and knew things only Ciel would know, this boy was not Elizabeth's Ciel.
This New Ciel was as mired in black as she had been—as she still was, underneath the bright smile and pretty dresses.
It was troubling and it frightened her. She was well aware that her cousin had always been stubborn and temperamental to the point of being intractable, but his temper had become more fitting of that scoundrel Heathcliff than her playful cousin. His humor had turned as black as Mr. Darcy's and his newfound self-deprecating cynicism put him in leagues with Mr. Rochester. Ciel had gone from her white knight full of warmth and smiles to her anti-hero, as cold as his marble gravestone had been. She truly had never been able to fathom why her betrothed would suddenly act like this. Why he had become this inverted reflection of who he had been before.
And so her world stayed black for a very long time.
The door clicked open behind her, and Lizzie gasped, dabbing quickly at her eyes with a handkerchief as she turned around. Relief spread through her as she realized it was not Ciel, but his new butler. What was his name, again? Sebastian?
"Pardon me, Lady Elizabeth," the butler bid, noticing her tears and starting to close the door.
"N-no, wait!" she blurted, embarrassed beyond belief. Lizzie wiped at the fresh tears pouring down her face, and trying to manage a watery smile. "I'm fine. Really. I'm just so happy Ciel's returned to us…" She trailed off, noting the skepticism in the butler's eyes.
Sebastian stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "If you don't mind me saying so, Lady Elizabeth, for one claiming to be happy…you seem to be very troubled."
She looked down at her skirts, her smile fading. She didn't know what to say. Too much emotion was welling up inside, trying to force its way through her constricted throat and burning in her eyes. She realized she was shaking and her legs hurt from sitting on the floor in such an odd manner. She had to look a mess, but she couldn't manage to force herself to stop crying. "It's all wrong!" Lizzie sobbed. Now that she'd started, she couldn't stop herself and the words poured out like a flood as she buried her face in her handkerchief. "Ciel was supposed to come back and everything was supposed to be like it was before but it's not! He's not the same! He's—that's not Ciel! Ciel would never be cross with me or—or—or cold! Ciel is warm and kind and happy! Not—not this!"
Lizzie flung her hand out, pointing to the door behind the silent butler to indicate she meant the boy somewhere outside the room they were in. She cried and cried, the room silent around her, and was startled when, after several long minutes later, she felt gentle hands carefully lower her own from her face.
"I understand this must be very difficult for you, my lady," the butler told her, his proprietious voice soothing on her worn nerves. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and added, "May I?" When Lizzie nodded numbly, he, carefully dabbing the tears from her face, continued on: "My young lord has had a trying time as of late. He has witnessed horrors one as young as he should not have knowledge of. Give him time to heal, Lady Elizabeth. He may one day be as he was before, but he needs time. And I can say without false flattery that my master's mood has improved greatly whilst you have been present over his mood this morning."
Elizabeth managed a real smile this time. Her eyes were puffy and her nose red as she hiccupped, "R-really? Do you mean it?" She nearly hugged the butler at his answering smile and only just caught herself. "Thank you, S-Sebastian."
He helped her to her feet, carefully straightened her dress, and smiled again. "Now then, shall we find the young master?"
Lizzie was pulled from her thoughts by a soft groan. Ciel murmured something incoherent in his sleep and flopped gracelessly onto his other side. A grumpy frown had settled over his childish features and it suddenly struck Lizzie that her cousin bore a striking resemblance to an annoyed cat when he was displeased. A small giggle managed to escape her throat in a soft huff of sound at the thought. Ciel would be quite cross if he knew what she'd imagined. He always was.
"Must I, Elizabeth?" the young Earl drawled boredly, staring at his reflection as if it were a sign of impending doom.
Lizzie giggled, clapping her hands together in her felicity. She'd known the new Easter suit would be perfect for Ciel. It was much more fitted than his usual suits, making him look both older and slimmer, and the miniature hat he wore with it was ever so cute.
"Oh, Ciel, you're adorable," Lizzie gushed, nearly cooing as she reached up to attach a vibrantly coloured flower to his frock coat's lapel.
Ciel scowled, gritting his teeth as his eyes sought out the reflection of his butler in the mirror. "Sebastian, fetch my other—"
"My apologies, lord," the butler cut in from his spot near the door, smirking faintly at the scene before him, "guests have already begun to arrive. If you were to change now, you would be very late indeed. Too late to still make a decent impression, young master."
"Damn and bla—ah!" he yelped as Lizzie began pulling him toward the door, nearly dragging him behind her.
"Let's hurry and meet with mother, Ciel," Lizzie jabbered, leading him out of the dressing room. "You look ever so cute, mother will definitely approve! Oh, and—"
By the time they reached the end of the hallway, Ciel had stopped fighting her. It was a lovely holiday indeed.
Lizzie hesitantly reached out to check her cousin's temperature. She was surprised at how warm his forehead was. The heat combined with how damp with sweat his skin was made her almost want to believe Ciel had simply stayed in a hot bath too long, but she knew better than to try and convince herself so. Ciel was worryingly pale, dark circles giving his eyes a sunken appearance though his cheeks were red enough for him to pass as being slapped. Lizzie just wanted him to wake up.
Still sound asleep, he gave another huff of annoyance and proceeded to kick the cocoon of blankets off of himself.
"Oh, don't," Lizzie chided, standing up and attempting to smooth the blankets back down over him. It didn't work, though, for Ciel simply kicked the blankets off when Lizzie had finished. Frowning at him, she added in a slightly sharper tone, "Ciel, that's enough. You'll only make yourself worse."
Midway through Elizabeth's second attempt to straighten the covers, Ciel seemed to decide he'd had quite enough of blankets and kicked at them again. Lizzie was ready for him this time, though. As soon as he kicked out, she caught ahold of his left leg and pinned it to the bed with as much force as she dared use in an attempt to calm him. Though she wasn't holding him very hard, it seemed to trigger something within her cousin's unconscious mind. He flailed wildly, simultaneously trying to buck her off of him and get away from her.
Lizzie let go of him, but it did nothing for his panic. "Ciel?! Ciel, what's wrong?!"
She clutched at his shoulders, trying to shake him out of it or wake him up. Anything, as long as he wasn't struggling anymore. The shaking failed to wake him and, to prevent him from hitting her or hurting himself, hugged him tightly to her body, not letting go even when he tried to push her away.
"Get out!" she snapped in the door's direction when it swung open hurriedly. Whoever was in the doorway paused a moment, then left, closing the door behind them. Near panic herself, Lizzie whispered words of comfort into her cousin's soft, dark hair. It didn't appear to help very much but, several long minutes later, Ciel finally stopped thrashing and began to calm despite the fact that he was still shaking.
"Li…zzie?" a soft voice croaked, confused.
Elizabeth pulled back, feeling like she might just cry in relief. "Ciel! You are—"
"…ter…please…," he mumbled groggily, his eyes still closed.
"What—?" Lizzie faltered, noticing a water glass on Ciel's nightstand for the first time. She carefully raised the glass to his lips and tried to help him drink some.
Ciel was asleep again halfway through the first sip.
Breath shaky, Lizzie set the glass down and settled Ciel back into bed as well as she could. She smoothed the covers down and curled up at the end of Ciel's bed. She stared at him with wide green eyes from under her golden hair and tried not to let herself break into pieces. Lizzie glanced at the clock fitfully. Damn you, Sebastian. You should be here where Ciel needs you. Where are you?
The saw cut through the air with a deafening peal of sound. Sebastian lurched backwards, out of the death scythe's reach as Grell aimed another wild slash at his head. One would think, the butler mused, that after all the photographs I allowed him to take, the least he could do is spare the attempts at a "death match" just this once.
Sebastian's back hit a wall and Grell was on him in an instant, driving his death scythe downward with great enthusiasm. Spotting an opening, Sebastian ducked down under the spinning blade and then to his left. Grell attempted to follow with a joyous cackle, and, as soon as he turned, was met with a well-shined shoe planted firmly in his face.
Grell yelped as his head snapped back from the impact. He stumbled in his shiny, fashionable red heels and promptly fell over onto the rain-sodden cobbles beneath them. Grell hit the ground hard and dropped his death scythe with a groan; the weapon skittered away as its engine gradually grew silent.
"What the hell was that for?!" Grell raged, near wailing as he rubbed his throbbing nose.
"Now, now; don't start with me," Sebastian chided, pulling his gloves straight. "You attacked first."
"But I was just happy to see you!" the reaper protested as he regained his feet.
"Then perhaps you should try simply saying 'hello'."
Grell grumbled about how rude it was to kick a lady in the face as he went to retrieve his death scythe. The back of his coat was damp and slightly dirty as he straightened up, not pausing in his rambling, and Sebastian was barely able to refrain from sarcastically remarking that he hadn't realized any ladies were present.
"Not that I'm actually thrilled to see you," Sebastian began slowly, expression unchanging from its usual faintly amused detachment, "but what are you doing here?" He paused and, in afterthought, added, "How did you find me?"
"I told you, Bassy; I'm working!" Grell beamed as he straightened his red glasses. "I could be persuaded to take a break, you know. I've been such a good little Grell and now I'm all stiff. I bet you could loosen me up, Bassy. What do you say we try?"
Mind drawing a momentary blank, Sebastian attempted to veer his lost train of thought back on track before it derailed entirely. Focus. The young master is ill. See what the reaper wants, make sure he won't follow you, and then leave. "Surely not in this exact area."
"Ah…well, we could always go back—"
"I was referring to your work, Grell, not your delusions," the butler cut in bluntly.
Grell's cheer deflated faster than a popped balloon and he pouted, his expression more pathetic than that of a kicked puppy. "Not…not really. No," Grell admitted evasively, rocking on his heels anxiously as he pressed his forefingers together in trepidation. After a moment, his enthusiasm seemed to hit its second wind as, smiling flirtatiously and creeping nearer, he purred, "Of course, I can't tell you exactly who I need to reap tonight, my Sebas-chan. A lady such as myself should never give away all of her secrets. Besides, Will would be so angry if he found out I told you about my assignment."
Immune to Grell batting his eyes, Sebastian noticed that the red-haired reaper didn't actually seem to mind the thought of getting into trouble with the illustrious William T. Spears. Given that, he decided to press his luck, and, dropping his voice to a more inviting tone, murmured, "Do reconsider, Grell. I was certain we were better acquainted than that. After all, there would be nothing wrong with just a little slip, now would there? It wouldn't be the first time."
The reaper raised a shoulder in a half-shrug and coyly replied, "Oh, I wouldn't know anything about that."
Can I kill him now? Sebastian was finished with this; weary of playing games in return for nothing especially when Grell was probably the most clueless person he could hope to get an answer from (well, almost, anyway). Why on Earth am I bothering with this imbecile?
Sebastian sighed deeply, letting his weariness show through his usual façade as his expression fell into one of grave disappointment. "Very well, then. I have my own duties to attend to. I cannot say it's been a pleasure, but it has been…" He paused for a second, trying to decide on the right word to finish the sentence with. Unfortunate? Annoying? Vexing? "…interesting speaking with you. Good evening to you, Grell."
With that, he stepped around Grell (who looked vaguely as though he had been slapped and then had discovered all of his shoes had just been stolen) and continued in the direction he had been travelling in before he was…diverted. Sebastian mourned the loss of time, now fairly certain he would not be able to speak with anyone else tonight. He also couldn't help but lament the loss of the opportunity to speak with the devils that had been following him. They might have, at the very least, been able to give him a clue about whether or not he should even bother to continue investigating or if it would be far more beneficial to simply stop and return to both the manor and his master. Deep down, however, he knew it didn't really matter what his fellows would have said. He was being driven by some primal, instinctive urge that was demanding he act in his master's stead and that he should do so now...
…if only for the sake of their contract. There could be no other reason, could there? It certainly couldn't be something so ridiculously human as actually caring…right?
Movement behind him set Sebastian faintly on edge, but he didn't particularly care what Grell was doing as long as it didn't involve him. They both had their own jobs to attend to and it was best they did them separately and thoroughly. And so Sebastian continued heedlessly on. So busy, so busy.
AN: Lo! A new chapter doth appears! And angst was had by all. =D Sebastian, Lizzie and I all have something in common right now: we're all tired and stressed (and mildly confused)! ^^ Please alleviate some of that by leaving a review. =) (Seriously, guys; this is around the point in a fic where I start deciding which of the on going fics has top priority. So please, please review if you want me to keep with weekly updates!) Hope everyone's doing well. Happy Thanksgiving (later this week)! See you all later. ^^ *waves*
