Author's Notes

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Chapter 3.2! The picnic type thing continues because I apparently have a longer attention span than I give myself credit for, although I am just now realizing that at the current pace I have set this has the potential to be stupidly long.

Oh great.

Also you might notice a very abrupt style shift and differential between this chapter and the others. This was not intentional but as my motto in life is 'good enough' I saw no reason to go back and fix it… and I'm curious as to whether my lovely readers (HELLO YOU TWO or seven or whatever I love you) prefer this sort of thing to the rest.

We just don't know.

(~)

The Fall of Adam:

Pr(a)nks

(~)

The young lord had disappeared by the time Ludwig made his way back to the party. Ludwig was not pleased by this (sadly predictable) development. The boy was like a spider in a room. You took your eyes off of it for just a moment to go fetch a newspaper and when you looked back again it would be gone, only to reappear at the most inconvenient of moments when one was at their most vulnerable. In the shower or getting changed for the day or heaven forbid in one's bed.

Ludwig quickly abandoned the metaphor. The thought of that weasel in his home was too annoying and off-putting to bear.

The house staff was out and about in the gardens by the time Ludwig situated himself off to the side, and while several of them (particularly the butler whose name escaped him) cast occasional glances his way, no doubt the earl had informed them of his presence. There was no awkward confrontation like Ludwig expected, and he was free to take a glass of some odd, fruity drink (he'd been informed that it was 'lemonade,' whatever that was) and sit by himself underneath one of the large leafy plants next to the canal. The workers were still setting up the food in the white tents, and the staff and gardeners were milling about and gathering in small groups as humans were wont to do. Ludwig sipped at his drink and watched the circle closest to him out of the corner of his eye. He recognized the slightly elderly lady as the head housekeeper and the young man next to her as one of the footmen. The rest he didn't know, but the rapidity at which they gossiped made him picture the kitchen staff. Huddled around the stoves and talking in hushed voices about the ones upstairs.

The head housekeeper glanced at him and offered him a courteous smile and a small wave of her hand, an invitation to join them. Ludwig shook his head as politely as he could and gestured to his drink as an excuse. He had no desire to mingle with the residence of the downstairs. Not when he had no desire to mingle with those on the same level as him. The cellar, he supposed it would be called. Dirt on the cellar floor.

Ludwig fished an ice cube out of his drink and rested it in his palm, watching it slowly melt. It was strange to come into contact with ice in the heart of summer. His only other experience with ice was breaking it off of his clothes during snap frosts or waking up to find that his eyelashes were crusted with a thin layer of frost. He had never considered it to be anything pleasurable, but now when he was wishing his church clothes were made of something other than wool the ice in his hand was making him reconsider his relationship with winter.

Ludwig quickly glanced around and then reached over his shoulder to let the ice cube slip underneath his collar. He let out a quiet sigh at the relief the ice cube brought. Why the nobility had yet to invent a neater, more posh way of exploiting ice he had no idea. Portable ice baths, perhaps. Ice hats. Ice—

Ludwig shuddered slightly as the ice cube shifted. Possibly a poor decision on his part. Fishing it out would draw too much attention to himself, and so he resigned himself to squirming very slightly until the temperature evened out somewhat.

Feeling pleasantly cooled (and wishing he could dip his feet in the canal), Ludwig pushed himself up and decided to try and be pleasant. He could hear the earl's booming voice from across the lawn and decided that the sooner he said his hellos the sooner he could slip out after taking full advantage of the hospitality being offered.

He took a moment to make sure his suit had not gathered any earth or leaves before running a hand over his hair. Looking presentable was a habit drilled into him from his days in Her Majesty's armed forces, and it was one he had the hardest time abandoning for its reasons of practicality. A clean-shaven and properly dressed man could get away with a good deal more than someone who let their appearance fall by the wayside.

The earl seemed to spot him, for a moment later he and his entourage migrated towards Ludwig, the lower class men hovering about the lord like anxious mother birds.

"Ah, Ludwig! I am glad you could make it," the man said, his face wreathed in smiles. Ludwig politely inclined his head, shivering as the remnants of the ice cube slid lower down his back.

"It is my pleasure, Lord Horschhorn," he said quietly, and the earl chuckled.

"See, Langley? A taciturn man of good stock. Just as I said."

The reedy looking man to the earl's left nodded and spared Ludwig a passing glance before visibly dismissing him. "Quite so, my lord."

The earl chuckled, and the men turned slightly en masse with the lord, their shoulders effectively boxing Ludwig out of the conversation. He stood still, unsure if that was a signal for him to leave or to stay in place.

"Do you have the faintest idea why the boy is so fixated on him?"

"Not the slightest. Lisa speculates it's another one of his horrible ploys. The house staff already knows his tricks. Most likely he's simply gotten bored with his usual victims and their inevitable predictability."

The men chuckled appropriately, and Ludwig struggled to look like he was not eavesdropping, which was quite an achievement when five brazenly loud men and one chatty earl were standing not three feet from you.

"And it was he who pushed for his invitation?"

"I wouldn't say pushed, Wiltshire. Simply made a valid point."

The earl suddenly paused and glanced at Ludwig before shifting slightly, laughing once more.

"My good man you must forgive us. These five are as talkative as the staff without the benefit of manners training. Please, join us for the moment, at least until lunch is served." The earl's eyes sparkled a bit as he lowered his voice slightly, "The canals can only keep one's interest for so long, I wouldn't wager. And my son will most likely leave you alone if you are in my company. I do apologize for him pestering you so. He has difficulty acting his age when his surroundings fail to occupy him."

Ludwig inclined his head slightly, and politely lied, "He is no bother at all, my lord," unsure where the sudden familiarity was coming from. Its quick onset made him slightly wary, and the five pairs of upper crusted eyes did little to assuage the feeling. But once again he found himself in a position where refusal would be far beyond bad form, and so he merely inclined his head in thanks once more and took a small step forward.

Instantly an uncomfortable silence settled over the group that Ludwig made no effort to break. He took note of the five men's attire – much more casual than those he'd glimpsed in carriages on the way to formal nightly celebrations at the manor – and subtly brushed a few wrinkles out of his suit coat.

"Have you been… er… working… long?" one of the men finally ventured, his raspy voice catching uncomfortably over every other word.

Ludwig shook his head and then realized he was required to provide a verbal answer. "No, my lord. I have served Earl Horschhorn for only ten years."

"Ten years toiling in the fields is not /long/?" one of the other men exclaimed, his thin moustache twitching frantically like a snared rabbit. "My word if it were I out there in that dust and sun even for one day I'd wager it would feel more like an eon!"

The other five men chuckled slightly but the earl merely gave them a polite smile before saying, "The good book speaks of the rewards of labor. I can only imagine it is those rewards of honest work that cause time to pass in a more regimented fashion."

Instantly the other five closed their mouths before one to the left of Moustache cleared his throat.

"Spoken with the dignity of one who knows such exertion," he said loftily, and Ludwig fought not to roll his eyes. Snakes in the grass, all of them. What a pathetic display. And it was with a small start that he wondered if the earl considered these men friends at all. They had certainly seemed so walking shoulder to shoulder but making friends or even trusted acquaintances out of sycophants seemed an impossible endeavor.

The earl in response merely laughed again when something over Moustache's shoulder caught his attention. With a quiet sigh the man excused himself and hurried towards the manor house. The other five men gave Ludwig anxious glances and then scattered with polite little nods and curtseys and affected niceties until Ludwig was left wonderfully alone.

He took another sip of his drink and was about to head back down to the canal to search for fish when he felt something ice cold on the back of his neck. With a small gasp of surprise he grabbed for it, his fingers closing around an ice cube. He stared at it for a moment and then turned around, not surprised at all to find no one there. He remained still, blue eyes fixed on the most likely point of retreat: the hedges a few feet away. His fist closed so tightly around the ice cube that it was reduced to uninteresting water in moments, and he shook out his numbed fingers, but otherwise did not move.

Ludwig remained still for nearly a full minute, ignoring the questioning (and slightly alarmed) glances of the house staff when finally a small patch of the hedges rustled ever so slightly.

With a few quick steps Ludwig rounded the hedges on the other side and planted himself behind the little rustling spot. The bushes fell mysteriously still for a long moment before there came a sudden flurry of movement. Ludwig watched with an unimpressed look on his face as the earl's son struggled out of the bushes, cursing a blue streak of words that would have made the head of housekeeping tut disapprovingly but would not so much as turn a sailor's head.

In a few moments the boy stood before him, twigs and leaves stuck in his wild pale hair and a slightly annoyed look on his face.

"That was incredibly disappointing!" the young lord said dramatically, scrubbing at his hair to rid it of the debris. "You reacted more when you played that little trick on yourself! Clever idea though," he said, his tone suddenly changing dramatically to one of grudging approval. "I nearly kicked myself for not having thought of it before."

Ludwig could feel his lower eyelid twitching but he did his best to keep his temper in check – a running theme whenever he encountered the little louse (which was becoming far too frequent an event).

"With all due respect, my lord, were you not under your father's protection right now I would have not simply stood there," he said as evenly as he could.

The earl's son rolled his eyes, a flash of something hard to place – disappointment, perhaps – crossing his features. It was not a look the boy wore well, his thin features more suited to snide twists of the mouth.

"Papa was distracted by the little fireworks show in the maid's bathroom. You had all the time in the world to react accordingly," the boy complained, letting out a heavy sigh. "A horrible waste of a diversion. I suspect Eliza won't let me hear the end of this one…"

Eliza. The girl cousin, probably.

Ludwig filed that information away for later (in case the topic was somehow breached, no matter how unlikely that may be).

"I apologize for not being a more willing participant in amateur torture hour," Ludwig said as diplomatically as he could, finding it hard to resist baiting the boy slightly. The young lord was a theatrical thing, and Ludwig hadn't been able to afford tickets to London to attend any plays lately. This would do, provided he could walk the delicate tightrope of goading and outright insubordination.

For whatever reason, though, the boy looked pleased and rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Amateur torture hour. You have a rather mordant wit about your words, don't you," he said thoughtfully, eyeing Ludwig once more. "For a farmhand, at any rate…"

"Gilbert!"

Lady Horschhorn's voice rang out over the grounds, and Gilbert's already-pale face turned somehow paler still. He turned and pressed himself against the hedges until the upper half of his body was practically swallowed up by branches. Ludwig could see him pushing aside the leaves to peer into the manor grounds.

"It wasn't me."

Ludwig could hear the boy whining to himself.

"It was Eliza's idea to begin with. Sullen wench that she is, pretending to help me when really I am quite sure she just wanted to explode something and pin the blame on me…"

"Gilbert!"

The lady's voice was farther away this time, and Gilbert sighed with relief, pushing himself slightly out of the hedges again until he apparently got stuck. He flailed weakly and then fell still for a moment, his long fingers struggling to free a clump of frost white hair.

Ludwig took a sip of his drink, unconcerned with the little drama playing out before him, until he took absent note of the slight gapping of Gilbert's collar. He resisted temptation for as long as he could, but some churlish, self-indulgent impulse suddenly seized him.

He was only human, after all.

For once he did not let himself dwell too long on the consequences. Ludwig quickly fished an ice cube out of his drink and carefully placed it on the young lord's neck and then stepped back to watch the performance unfold.

The boy gave a startled yelp and attempted to right himself, which only ended with his head stuck further in the hedge and the ice cube plummeting down his shirt. He scrambled wildly about in a game effort to retrieve the thing, and Ludwig suddenly found himself in the very uncomfortable position of having to stifle laughter. It should not have been as funny as it was, but seeing the pompous young lord flail about in a hedge with his head stuck and his skinny chicken legs scrambling for purchase on the soft, rain-soaked earth was too much for someone who had suffered at his spindly hands.

The earl's son did finally manage to extract himself, and Ludwig quickly schooled his face into its normal neutral expression, although he could not help the twitching of his lips. The boy fished out the ice cube with an indignant noise of triumph and then glared up at Ludwig out of the corner of his eye.

"Gilbert! Your father would like a word with you!"

Lady Horschhorn's voice carried more than a hint of warning to it.

The boy's expression did not change, and Ludwig found his amusement slowly fading away as he realized the gravity of what he'd done. It was just a simple child's trick, but he was not even a member of the house staff, and he was on thin ice (he mentally eviscerated himself for the idiom) as it was.

The earl's son straightened and pinched the ice cube between his fingers, still keeping a rather furious glare fixed on Ludwig's face before quite suddenly, a little grin broke out across his features.

"You are a complete idiot, farmhand. I hope you're aware of that," he said mildly, tossing the ice cube at Ludwig in a gentle arc. Ludwig caught it, his neutral expression unwavering. The boy continued, "Even Nancy – oh, that's the head housekeeper, why on Earth you would know her name – has yet to find the stones to turn around and best me, although I have given her ample opportunity, God knows, and she is the only one in that wretched house who even has a glimmer of a chance."

He took a little step forward, and somehow Ludwig found himself holding his ground and meeting the boy's gaze with an even one of his own, the calculating ruby eyes no longer holding quite the weight they had before. Perhaps because Ludwig had just seen him try and wrestle a hedge and lose spectacularly.

The young lord smiled and out of the blue stood on tip-toe and reached up to snag Ludwig's cap off his head. With a little laugh he danced away, tugging it on as he called out cheerfully, "Coming, Mother!" He waved his fingers at Ludwig and said in a more normal voice, "I fully expect to ransom this off to the next taker – I believe the homeless man who lives next to the Church will find it a slight step above his usual attire of discarded newspapers. Or who knows? I may be more benevolent than I give myself credit for."

The boy paused at the edge of the bushes and gave Ludwig an exasperated look.

"Well, come on then, farmhand. I need some sort of alibi and you will have to do. Look lively."

The young lord plucked the hat off of his head and twirled it on his finger, the devilish grin back on his face. Ludwig stared at his hat for a moment, wiling it to magic itself back onto his head. When that ultimately failed, he drained the last of his drink and dumped the rest of the ice out on the ground before reluctantly following the boy, his shoulders hunched and his stomach churning.

Somehow the ice had lost its novelty.