I lean on the wrought-iron fence, looking at the church. A little ways over, a few kids are staring through the metal bars. "The church is really crowded today!" one of them, a little boy, says. "Why, Big Brother?"
"I don't know," the oldest kid shrugs.
"But you're older, you're supposed to know," his brother says.
"You're stupid!" the little girl points at him.
"Hey, I'm only twelve, it's not like I'm supposed to know everything!" the older boy yells. I smile.
"You have a point," Dad, who's been next to me the whole time, starts talking to the kids. "At only twelve, it would be a shame if you did understand what's happening. Let me explain it. Today is a special noblewoman's big day."
The kids start to scoot backwards. I don't blame them; a random person just started talking to them. What else should they do? "What do you mean, mister?" the little girl asks. Her brother covers her mouth quickly.
"Well, it's the ultimate ceremony of my person's life, the funeral," Dad says. The kids just bolt. I laugh to myself a little. "It is," he says in response.
"I'm not questioning it," I say, "Come on, we have to get the rose petals."
We go to the back of the church and retrieve a huge, decorated cart that we filled with rose petals, at the Earl's request. Pushing them to the open doors of the church, the demon butler, Dad, and I stand there and watch them blow through the church, raining down into the coffin, onto Madam Red, and onto everyone else in the church. It's beautiful.
A few hours later, we find ourselves in the cemetery; staring down at the headstone of Mary Jane Kelly, Jack the Ripper's last victim. Earl Phantomhive had commissioned the headstone for her. She was an immigrant, and there was no family to claim the body. "My last customer from Jack the Ripper," Dad says, almost mournful.
The young Earl looked down at the mound of dirt covering the coffin. "Apparently she was an immigrant, and she had no family to claim her body."
"So our kindhearted Earl here had us pretty her up and even erected a gravestone for her," Dad strokes the boy's cheek, smiling. "A truly noble act on his part, eh?"
"It isn't noble at all," he says harshly, "the noble thing to do would have been to save her, and I could have, if I put her life first. But no, I had to catch them. Apprehending Jack the Ripper was more important. I knew they intended to kill her. I knew, and I let her die, along with my aunt."
"You regret what you did, my lord?" Dad says right in his ear. Anyone else would have jumped about a mile, but the stoic child just stands there and continues to stare at the grave.
"No, I don't. Now Jack the Ripper is gone forever, and I've done exactly as Her Majesty asked of me."
"Victoria, eh? Don't very much like her. She just sits back and watches while you do all her dirty work for her. Doesn't seem fair to me," Dad says. I shoot him a look but he's too busy breathing down the Earl's neck.
"That's what the Phantomhives do, it's our duty, passed down through generations along with this ring," the boy replies, cold as ice.
"That ring reminds me of a collar a master puts on a dog, you're forever tied to the Queen by the leash of duty," Dad says. I thank Heaven that nobody but us can hear this conversation.
"I've chosen this life, so stop!" the child yells as Dad tries to pull him into a hug. He grabs the kid's tie and pulls him up to his face.
"Lord Phantomhive, you should be wary of the path down which duty will take you, that collar may choke you yet," he lets the Earl go. "We wouldn't want that, now would we? Do come by if you need my assistance again. You and that hilarious butler of yours are always welcome." He shoved the flowers we brought into the boy's hands and we leave.
As we walk down that path and out of the cemetery, I raise an eyebrow. "They come to the shop?"
"Yes, sometimes the Queen's guard dog needs a little help with his work," Dad says with a laugh. "His butler tells the best jokes~!"
"How come I've never met them until last night?" I had told him about the night's events already.
"You were always elsewhere, at the funerals, or out in the shed," he explains, "and there was no point in calling you in just so we could discuss highly classified information about the England's underworld."
"Point taken," I'm not offended by the fact that I was left out of those discussions. I wouldn't have wanted to come in anyway, I've never been interested in the inner workings of the machine called England's underworld. I'm happy staying ignorant of the every single opium den in London, or the cause of death for all the customers we get. "You don't mind, do you? That I'm leaving?" I've also told him that I'm taking up William's offer.
"Not at all," he says, laughing a little. "If anything, it's going to be good to hear all the stories you bring back~! I'm sure they'll be quite funny, what with you working alongside Grell~!"
"Who said I was going to work with Grell!" I'm surprised. "I have no intention of doing that! What gave you THAT idea?"
"Oh, but you two would make the perfect partnership~! You're sensible, sane, and Grell is…Grell. It's perfect~!" he explains, now laughing outright.
"NO!" I protest. "He's so annoying, and gender-confused to boot!" I push up my slipping glasses. Dad just laughs and laughs, all the way home. Honestly, sometimes I don't know how I'm not embarrassed to be seen with him.
At the shop, William T. Spears is already waiting outside, ready to take me to the Society. I take the suitcase I prepared this morning and give Dad a hug. "I'll miss you," I say.
"Make sure to write, I'll be wanting to hear all those stories you'll have to tell me~!" Dad says.
"Certainly, I'd never deny you a good laugh," I say. William waves his hedge clippers in a "come on" gesture, and I follow him, but not without one last look at the funeral parlor that is all I've known for the past sixteen years.
I'm looking forward to my new job.