Disclaimer: J K Rowling presented seven years of a school which was supposed to have existed for centuries. Hogwarts 1835 had little from canon besides location. Hogwarts 1940 could serve as a prequel to the canon books. This sequel to 1835 has little from canon but a few family names and a location or two, but those are from Rowling's books. Similarities to any person, living are dead, with the characters in this story is an amazing coincidence.
My parameters for what constitutes canon can be found at the end of chapter one.
Chapter 9 – A Midsummer Night's Dream
Two couples stayed overnight after Saturday's meeting. Breakfast on Sunday was informal, and Miss Kestrel made a deliberate effort to sit at the head of the table in hopes of being seen, should any of the other guests arise in time to join Mr. Malfoy and her at breakfast.
"Claudius told you he would join us at the church?"
"If he were not home before we left."
"So, it will just be you and I in the carriage to church this morning," Mr. Malfoy commented.
"If it is just the two of us we could... Oh, Mr. Prewett and Kitty took the gig. Your other guests?"
"Said they would be leaving this morning."
A few minutes later Mr. and Mrs Wells entered the room and, as Gordon poured coffee for Mr. Wells and tea for Mrs. Wells, Miss Kestrel turned the conversation to quidditch. JW Wells, who would be sixth year Ravenclaw, served as a chaser on his house team. His parents were certain Ravenclaw would repeat as house champions in the coming year. Vivien reminded them that Slytherin had defeated Ravenclaw by a wide margin in their match and voiced the hope Slytherin would win the cup.
After breakfast, as they climbed into the carriage, Vivien sought clarification from her host, "You said we would not be at Reverend Henley's church this morning?"
"We won't. Reverend Stout serves the parish we will attend today."
As Mr. Malfoy held out his hand to help Vivien alight from the carriage she heard vague whispers from those standing outside the church. Claudius had not arrived as time for services drew near. The witch looked around the largely empty sanctuary, "Is this a smaller parish than the other?" she whispered.
"Larger," he whispered in answer.
Miss Kestrel felt very much the center of curious attention and suspected those in the pews were there more to see her or to be seen by their landlord than they were for the service.
During the second hymn Claudius entered the family pew with apologies to his father.
Miss Kestrel remembered being told that the bishop sometimes placed older vicars, past the strength of youth, into the livings on the Malfoy lands. She concluded that was the case with Reverend Stout, and strongly suspected he had written the sermon which he read in a monotone during the reign of George the Third.
Following the service Claudius and Vivien waited in the churchyard while Reverend Stout presented Mr. Malfoy with a litany of complaints about his own poor health, and the lack of devotion on the part of his congregants, and all of the rumors and gossip he had acquired since he had last seen his patron. Claudius questioned Vivien in detail about her opinion of yesterday's gathering at the Hall, but remained vague about his own movements.
The return to the Hall found Mr. Malfoy saying less than he had on the trip to church and looking thoughtful. When Vivien asked about his mood he replied he was thinking about what Reverend Stout had been telling him, wondering what should be regarded as credible and acted upon and what should be dismissed as slander.
"Is that a frequent concern with Reverend Stout? Reverend Henley seemed very discrete and careful last week."
"I trust Reverend Henley. He will only tell me what he has tested. Reverend Stout is more of a blotter, absorbing everything and turning it backwards."
"Then you should dismiss it all."
"Would that it were that easy," he sighed. "While he is too willing to believe the worst of everyone else he sometimes reports things I need to act upon."
The other guests had departed when they reached the Hall, and in mid-afternoon Kitty and Matthias returned from the March estate.
After listening to Mr. Prewett report on how impressed Mrs March was with Miss Kelly's abilities, and Miss Kelly talk about what a beautiful day it had been for travel, Mr. Malfoy announced he needed to take a ride.
"Do you want company?" Vivien asked.
"No," he said too quickly, and in too loud a tone. "Sorry," he apologized immediately, "I need to examine something Reverend Stout told me this morning."
He was late in returning that evening, didn't touch a bite of the food which had been prepared for him, and went to his room saying he was not hungry.
Monday morning found Miss Kestrel happy and cheerful at the breakfast table. "How many farms do you plan to visit today?" she asked her host.
"I do not plan to go out today," he replied in a flat tone.
"You do not sound happy. You must go out."
"I am not happy, and there is no need for me to leave the Manor today, therefore I plan to remain at home."
"And brood?" she responded. "Brooding is not good for you. All the more reason you must go out."
"There are no duties which require my attention."
"That has not stopped you in the past. Mr. Trotter is a very capable man and could accomplish the majority of his work without your presence, but–" He opened his mouth to protest, but Miss Kestrel continued. "Oh, I'm certain it was necessary when you first hired him, and may be occasionally necessary now – but you must learn to trust him more."
"I must learn to trust him more – and I must go out today. You make no sense."
"You will not stay at home to demonstrate your trust today. You will go out today because it is for your own mental well being. You are not staying in for him, you are going out for yourself."
He almost managed a smile at the pretty witch's impertinence. "And I will feel better if I go out?"
"Absolutely," she assured him. "Fresh air and sunshine will improve your mood. Fresh air, sunshine, and I had the house elves prepare a special picnic."
"And you are now concerned about hurting the feelings of house elves?"
"No, but I was the one who requested they prepare a very nice hamper. It would hurt my feelings should you ignore it. You are too good a host to do that."
He gave a mock sigh, "I am uncertain whose feelings you are thinking of, mine or your own."
"Both of us," she admitted. "I appreciated what you did for me Saturday evening and want to show my gratitude. It will make me feel better, and I hope it will make you feel better as well."
"Then, for your sake, we will go out. I fear it will not help my mood."
She impulsively put her hand on his and squeezed gently. "Please, don't determine to remain unhappy. I even promise not to use magic."
He actually smiled, "Even if we are attacked by highwaymen?"
"I am willing to let them shoot you, if it will make you feel better."
He actually laughed, "You have my permission to use magic to save yourself."
"But not to save you?"
"I think I would prefer being shot to requiring that you save me."
"You're mean," she pouted and stuck out her tongue at him.
"So, am I so mean that I am excused from going out and may remain home and brood?"
"No. You will go out today, and you will feel better whether you want to or not."
"Have you any other orders."
"Those will do. Receiving your praise makes your tenants happy. The luncheon will make Mr. Trotter happy. Being out and seeing the two of you eat the luncheon will make me happy. And bringing happiness to others will make you happy as well."
"I... Thank you. And thank you for not inquiring about the reasons for my mood."
"It would be rude for me to pry. It is enough to know you are not unhappy with me."
He frowned slightly. "And you know that because..."
"Because, while your manners are excellent, you would not agree to going out if my presence caused you pain."
There were no demands for the attention of master or steward that day. Mr. Trotter might have remained at his own home without a twinge of guilt. But the trio rode through an area of the estate which was especially prosperous and were greeted by curious tenants who desired to see the pretty young woman who local gossip said was accompanying their landlord. Many assumed she would marry Claudius in the near future.
They took longer than usual at lunch, and to her delight Vivien understood much of the conversation between the two men as they discussed what they had observed that morning. As Mr. Trotter packed the plates and cutlery into the hamper at the end of the meal he remarked to his employer, "I shall regret Miss Kestrel returning home."
Vivien turned and looked across a field so that he would not see the slight blush his comment elicited, while his employer felt a pang of sorrow at the reminder and wondered if he should ask Miss Kestrel and her mother about extending the young woman's stay. He tried to shake off the feeling. It had been wrong to ask Miss Kestrel and Miss Gray to come in the hope Claudius might show a preference. It would be wrong to ask her to stay longer when all hopes the young woman had cherished of an advantageous marriage were obviously gone. He glanced over at the pretty woman, and yet it would be pleasant if she could stay longer. Her presence made him happy. Should he surrender to his own selfish feelings and ask her to stay longer? He did not want her to leave, but it would be wrong to ask her to lengthen her stay. While the thought brought him no pleasure he knew that he must allow her to return to the city.
"Thank you for insisting I go out today," Mr. Malfoy told her as they rode back to the Hall.
"Do you feel better now?"
"No. But it made the day tolerable, and I would have spent the day brooding had I remained at home."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I thank you for your offer, but no. It appears I have a difficult choice to make and I fear any decision I make will result in my unhappiness."
"Talking might help."
"The less which is said the better."
"You said Reverend Henley would be discrete."
"I must do this alone. May we change the subject? Could you tell me what you most enjoyed today?"
"Other than your company?" she asked in a teasing tone.
"I fear I was poor company today."
"Not poor, but not up to your usual standard. And for that reason I think I will give the credit to that little boy who insisted on showing us his melons. He was extraordinarily proud of them."
"Indeed," Mr. Malfoy smiled, "wanting us to take one before it was ripe."
Supper seemed strained. Mr. Malfoy remained moody and Claudius seemed subdued and defiant. Vivien questioned Kitty about her work for Mrs. March as a way of promoting some sort of conversation at the table.
After supper Miss Kestrel managed a quiet moment with her host. "I fear you went out today only to humor me. While I appreciate your effort I don't want to be a burden. I won't ask the house elves to prepare a hamper for tomorrow."
"No, what you told me this morning was correct. Riding with you improved my mood. I am delaying a confrontation which I know must happen. Request another hamper. If we don't go out tomorrow perhaps you and Miss Kelly would enjoy a picnic."
Titus Malfoy had decided to remain at home on Tuesday, but rose early from force of habit and to breakfast with his guests. He had not yet informed Miss Kestrel of his decision when Miss Sloper announced Mr. Trotter was at the door.
Mr. Malfoy frowned, it was unusual for his steward to call – he was encouraged to wait for Mr. Malfoy to contact him – and the early hour even more unusual. "Please show him in."
Mr. Trotter strode in, hat in hand, "Might have the thief."
"Might?"
"What thief?" Miss Kelly asked.
Vivien spoke up, "Mr Trotter, may I present my friend, Miss Kelly. Kitty, this is Mr. Trotter, Mr. Malfoy's steward."
"What thief?" Kitty repeated.
"Someone's been stealing tools from tenants the last few months," Mr. Trotter explained hurriedly. He looked at Mr. Malfoy, "Can't be sure. Tom Dunn caught Billy Smith in one of his outbuildings early this morning. Tom says Billy must be the thief. Billy says he thought Tom had stolen his tools and was looking for them. They've got Billy at the Dunn place, the oldest boy came over to tell me. May be that neither one's the thief, but I thought I'd tell you before I investigate."
Mr. Malfoy nodded, "It's created serious problems. I'll go with you."
"So will I," Vivien announced.
"Miss Kestrel," her host began, "you don't need–"
"We can leave now. It will save a great deal of time if you don't try to talk me out of accompanying you."
"Very well," he sighed.
Confusion reigned at the Dunn cottage. "... just before dawn. Has to be the thief."
"I've been losing tools like everyone else," Billy protested. "Been checking different sheds and barns the last week or so lookin' to find the thief. What was he doin' up so early I asks you."
"I was goin' out to take a piss. Good thing too or you'd a robbed me."
"Maybe I'd have found the tools you've been stealin'."
"You break into one of my sheds and accuse me of stealin'?" Tom took a step towards Billy.
"Stop it," Mr. Trotter ordered, and pulled Tom back.
"Was he carrying any sort of bag for holding tools?" Vivien asked.
Mr. Trotter nodded his approval at the question.
"Don't rightly know," Tom admitted. "Dark when I caught him sneakin'–"
"I weren't sneakin'!"
"Yes ya were!"
"Why don't we examine the shed," Mr. Malfoy suggested.
There were no bags in the shed which Tom didn't recognize, although Vivien couldn't guess how he managed to identify the rough sacks as his own.
"See," Billy insisted, "I wouldn't a had no time to get rid of one. I was here seein' if he were the thief."
"A bag might have been evidence you were a thief," Mr. Malfoy pointed out. "The absence of a bag does not serve as evidence you are innocent."
The steward and landlord stood to one side in the open while Tom and Billy remained in the shed, glaring at each other with animosity. Vivien went over to listen to the conversation of Mr. Trotter and Mr. Malfoy.
"I suspect Billy is the thief," Titus said, "but suspicion is not proof."
"He has claimed tools were stolen from his place," Mr. Trotter agreed. "But sneaking around to look in the outbuildings on other farms? That is foolish."
"But certainly possible. I don't know what to do."
"May I ask him a few questions?" Vivien asked. "Some men have trouble telling a lie to a pretty woman."
"I don't see how–" Mr. Trotter began.
"No!" Mr. Malfoy told her, suspecting Vivien's plan, but the witch ignored him and turned and walked to the shed, with the two men following her.
She spoke to Tom first, "Billy claims he thought you might be the thief. Have you been stealing from your neighbors?"
"Course not," he snorted.
She turned to Billy, "You said you were here looking for stolen tools?"
"That's what I said."
"I ask you to think of the words of Jesus in the gospels and be honest in your answer, was that the truth?"
"No." His eyes showed the shock of hearing the word come from his mouth.
"I am very sorry to hear that. But confession of sin is good for the soul. Was your motive to find something to steal?"
"Yes." There was almost a look of horror in his eyes.
"Repentance is vital in situations such as this–"
"Stop it, right now," Mr. Malfoy demanded.
Vivien ignored his command, "Repentance. Are the tools on your property so that they may be returned to their proper owners?"
"No, pawned..." There were large beads of sweat on his forehead, more than normal for the temperature of an early morning in the summer as the truth continued to come out of his mouth.
"That is a pity. Are there others who need to clear their souls by the confession of their sins?"
"My wife. And Clarence."
"Clarence?"
"My cousin. Works in the Malfoy stables."
"I am certain they will also feel better having been reminded of the commandment, 'Thou shalt not steal'."
She was afraid to look at Mr. Malfoy when she turned. Mr. Trotter's face bore a look of amazement.
"Get this man and his wife off my land," Mr. Malfoy instructed his steward. "Miss Kestrel and I are returning to the Hall."
Vivien kept her eyes downcast, avoiding his gaze. She knew that once they were far enough away to avoid being overheard he would have a great deal to say to her.
"You promised not to charm any muggles," he snapped.
"I didn't."
"You most certainly did."
"I did not."
"I know what I just saw."
"Not if you think I charmed that muggle."
"You ask me to believe you put the fear of the Lord into him with your references to confession and repentance?"
"Not at all. That was for show."
"So, you admit charming him."
"I said no such thing. I placed no charm on any muggles today. I put a charm on myself."
"What?"
"A relatively simple charm. It makes those with whom I am talking desire to please me."
"I will not believe that for the simple reason I am talking with you, and I certainly have no desire to please you after you broke your word in that manner."
"I did not break my word! I charmed no muggle! And you are a very powerful wizard. I doubt I have a charm capable of bending you to my will."
"You are changing the subject!"
"No I'm not. I'm telling you the truth, and you are too stubborn to believe it."
"You charmed that muggle!"
"I did not. I placed a charm on myself."
"It is the same thing!"
"It most certainly is not. I promised not to charm any of your muggle tenants. I placed a charm on myself. I kept my promise."
There was a silence between them for the rest of the return to the Manor. And there was no Clarence in the stable to take care of their mounts when they reached the hall. Kitty was outside the stable, using a curry comb on Sparta.
"Can't find Clarence. Looks like he was here but–"
"He was when we left," Vivien told her.
"Well, appears he dropped everything. Maybe he took ill."
"More likely Mr. Trotter mentioned the reason we were going out," Mr. Malfoy commented.
"How's that?"
"The thief named Clarence as an accomplice. He couldn't be certain his cousin would confess, but left on the chance his role would be discovered. Had Clarence not been named he probably would have returned with some sort of excuse for his departure."
Titus Malfoy shut his eyes and cursed inwardly. "And I need a new stableman on top of everything."
Kitty spoke up quickly, "I'll take the job."
"What?"
"I don't have a job. You're needing someone, and I'm very good with horses."
"Miss Kelly... First of all, this is not a job for a witch."
"Why not? I'm capable."
"It is not a job for a witch, it requires no magic. And second, you are a woman and–"
"Who is capable of doing the job."
"A woman would not be accepted. Further, you are a guest at the house. Running the stable is a job for a servant. I can't have a servant as a guest."
"I'll move out."
"You're missing the point."
"No, you are."
"The point is this is a job for a muggle man who will work as a servant and requires activities which are beneath a wizard or witch."
"No, the point is that you need someone capable to run the stable, and you have a person who could do a damn fine job of it standing here in front of you this moment."
"Kitty," Vivien hissed, "have you no sense of propriety?"
"No, can't afford it. Need money in the bank to care for what's proper."
"I will find an appropriate muggle to fill the position," Mr. Malfoy assured her.
"And who feeds and waters the horses 'til then? Who shovels the shit? You may not find someone right away. Last time you hired a thief."
"You and Miss Kestrel," he muttered softly.
"What was that?" Kitty asked.
"I cannot believe you actually want a job in the stable."
"I don't. Mrs. March wants to set me up as a veterinarian. I'd like to put some of my own money into the practice – show I'm serious. Don't figure this would pay much, but it'll help."
"Miss Kelly, I cannot have a guest work as a servant–" She opened her mouth to protest, and he held up a hand to quiet her. "You, as guest who is talented in working with animals, may help me in the stable until I am able to find a muggle to hire for the position. You will not say you have a job in my stable. You are offering your help. In gratitude for your help in this time of need, I will work with Mrs. March in setting up your practice – both in providing funds and hiring your services for my animals. We could use a better veterinarian in the area than we currently have. Are my terms acceptable?"
"So... I'm working for you, even while I'm saying I don't work for you?"
"You are not working for me. You are helping me until I can hire a..." He glanced at Vivien. "Damn!" He strode off in the direction of his house.
"What was that about?" Kitty asked.
"He found himself agreeing with me," Vivien explained, "and he didn't like it."
"I don't understand."
"You don't need to."
"What's happening out here with the horses?"
"You are a guest in the house and will help him out here until he can hire some muggle for the job. You are not taking wages - that would be work. When Mrs. March sets up your practice he will give you a gift to help get you established. And my guess is that the gift will be a much larger amount than what you might have earned in wages."
The Irish girl nodded. "Sounds good. Still don't understand his damn."
"Earlier he and I were discussing calling a thing by one name, when it looked like it should be called another – you will be working, but must not call it work. I said I had not charmed a muggle, but he claimed that I had."
"All sounds like nonsense to me," Kitty replied.
Miss Kestrel found her host in the library, staring out a window. She hesitated, then quietly approached him. "My intention was to help you."
"I know. And I apologize for disbelieving. On another day we might have discussed the relative merits of obeying the letter or the spirit of the law, but I was rather forcefully reminded that it represents an issue for all mankind."
"Could you demonstrate you've forgiven me by riding out with the picnic hamper I had prepared?"
"There is no need for me to forgive you. You didn't break your word and you helped me – even if I did not desire your aid. But I have other business I must attend to." He looked over at Mr. Prewett, taking notes on a dark arts manuscript at a library table. "Matthias, it would please me greatly if you would drive our guests out a few miles and enjoy the picnic hamper the house elves have prepared."
The scholar looked up from his work and pushed the spectacles back up his nose, "I would be delighted... If that meets their approval."
Miss Kestrel made a mock curtsy to her host, "Having angered m'lord this morning it behooves me to do his biding with a cheerful countenance. Hopefully we can persuade Miss Kelly to leave the pleasures of horse manure long enough to join us."
"Horse manure?" Matthias asked in a loud whisper.
"You'll see," she promised in a stage whisper.
Mr. Malfoy managed to laugh, "Miss Kestrel, I find it utterly impossible to remain angry with you."
He waited until Mr. Prewett left with Miss Kestrel to confirm with Gordon that Claudius had not yet come downstairs. "Please tell him that I wish to see him, immediately."
"Yes, Sir."
Titus Malfoy sat on a wing chair to one side of the fireplace when Claudius entered the room. His father gestured to the matching chair opposite his own and the son sat down. There was a moment of strained silence.
"You asked to see me," Claudius stated.
"I am searching for what to say. A young man has been staying at the inn in Little Wimsey. He's been there since spring term ended at Hogwarts. It appears my money has been paying for his stay. Do you deny this?"
"No. It is true."
"May I assume that your nocturnal excursions after you tell me that you have retired for the night are to Little Wimsey?"
"You may."
"Claudius, I... I don't know what to do. This is wrong."
"It is not wrong. It is merely different from what society demands."
"The demands of society are important. They keep us from living like animals."
"They keep us in cages and deny me happiness in life."
"Happiness is not the only purpose of life."
"If I believed unhappiness is all that is possible I'd kill myself now."
"I forbid you to–"
"I am renouncing my inheritance."
"What?"
"If you were sickly I might wait for you to die. But your health is excellent - better than my own. While I rejoice at your good health, because I do love you, I will not wait fifty years or more for you to die so that I can be with someone I care for, and who cares for me."
"Don't be absurd. Where will you go? How will you live?"
"One can live very cheaply in France. It has the advantage that few know the name of Malfoy – which by the way I intend to change. I would do nothing to bring disgrace on the family name."
"Even to live cheaply requires money. How will you obtain that?"
"I don't know. But between Peter and me we will find some way to make ends meet."
"You would give up this home, your inheritance for... for..."
"Yes. Face the facts father. You know I have no interest in women."
"I've always hoped that, in time, perhaps you would change."
"I find that unlikely. I am what I am. The land and title will pass to cousin Marcus – if he is still alive at the time of your demise. I thought of asking him for a stipend until your death, but he is tight with his money and would fear that you'd outlive him. His son certainly doesn't have an extra sou to pass on."
"Claudius. You are my son. You can't do this."
"I am your son. And I can do this."
"I won't accept this!"
"What choice do you have? I will leave. I am of a legal age."
"Give me a minute to think." There was a long pause as father and son stared at each other.
"You once asked about a grand tour."
"And you said no, because of my inattention in my classes."
"There are two manuscripts at Durmstrang I would like copied. If you will go there and copy them I will pay for your continued travel on the continent for a year following the making of the copies."
"Does the offer include paying for Peter to accompany me. His family has cut him off completely."
"No."
"Then I cannot accept your offer. Peter and I wish to be with each other."
"Give me another minute to think." There was another uncomfortable lull in the conversation.
"My next offer. You will not see your friend at all for the next three weeks–"
"What?"
"You are attempting to be discrete, but there is still gossip. You will not see him for the next three weeks – although you will send him an owl with my proposal, should you accept. After Miss Kestrel and Miss Kelly leave, assuming we can be rid of Miss Kelly–"
"Excuse me?"
"I'll explain later. At the end of their visit you and your friend may leave England for Durmstrang and–"
"And you will finance the trip, for Peter too?"
"Yes." Claudius showed excitement as his father continued. "After my copies are complete I will finance you and your friend on the continent for a year. At the end of that time you will return here and we will discuss your future."
"My future is cheap lodging in France."
"I hope you will come to your senses during your grand tour."
"I believe I came to my senses when I decided I had to leave and be with Peter. Father, may I introduce him to you? Please? You won't even say his name – you keep referring to him as my friend."
"I will not have him in the house... I will not have him in the house at this time. Perhaps my opinion will change during your travels."
"I hope so."
"So, do you accept my proposal?"
"And at the end of my tour with Peter?"
"I don't know. Perhaps I am a coward and delaying a decision until then. I told you that I hope you come to your senses during that time – familiarity can breed contempt. You are willing to renounce your inheritance – perhaps I can accept the idea then. Perhaps I will finance a home for you and your friend in France, nothing too extravagant. You are my son and I love you."
"I love you. Can I see Peter and tell him–"
"Write."
"I will write. It will be difficult, but he must agree. Your proposal is better than anything either of us imagined."
"And you will write me while you are traveling?"
"Of course I will write to you. You are my father."
Claudius beamed during supper and his father, if still slightly melancholy, appeared in a better mood.
"Father is sending me to Europe for the tour," the younger Malfoy announced.
"There is work for him to do. He'll be copying two manuscripts at Durmstrang before he can enjoy the sights."
"And what is the labor of a few weeks when the prospect of happiness lies ahead? Nothing, nothing at all."
"Will one of the manuscripts be that twelfth century work on curses by a Polish wizard I found mentioned?" Mr. Prewett asked.
Claudius looked at his father. "Yes," Titus told Matthias.
"I envy you being able to look at it before I see it."
"Will Lizzy and Charles still be at Durmstrang when Claude gets there?" Kitty asked Vivien.
"I doubt it. They're to leave for Moscow in a week." She turned to Claudius, "When will you leave for the continent?"
"Probably not for three weeks. They will be gone when I arrive." "Thankfully."
Vivien found an opportunity to speak to Mr. Malfoy before they retired. "You are melancholy at the prospect of Claudius's travels?"
"It will be a longer separation than his time at Hogwarts. He was always home between terms and during the summers."
"Is there any chance Mr. Trotter needs your presence tomorrow?"
"I don't believe so."
"But we will go out anyway, because it makes you happy."
"I suspect we will be going out because you enjoy it. Perhaps you can ride Sparta, since Miss Kelly will be too busy to give him his exercise."
"Another day, perhaps. I suspect I am not ready to ride a horse with spirit and I'm quite certain there is no room for the food hamper on the saddle."
During the leisurely morning ride Mr. Trotter informed his employer about the eviction of the Smiths. Mr. Malfoy told his steward there would soon be a new veterinarian in the area, a woman. Mr. Trotter expressed his skepticism at the idea, but was told he would use her services. Tenants found guessing about Vivien's identity, and why she was traveling with the pair, a source for endless gossip.
With no pressing concerns lunch was a protracted meal and it was late in the afternoon when they turned homeward. Several minutes after Mr Trotter left for his home Vivien drew back on the reins. "Stop!"
Mr. Malfoy drew back the reins, and looked around, wondering why she had ordered a halt. Seeing nothing around them he pressed a knee to one flank of his horse and it moved to the side of the dogcart. "What is it?"
"Look," she told him and gestured at the horizon, "isn't that a glorious sunset?"
He stared silently at the reds, yellows, and oranges in the sky for a moment and then laughed.
Miss Kestrel found it a curious response to the view. "Why did you laugh?"
"You asked me to watch a sunset."
"I don't understand."
"No. You wouldn't." He pointed to the right. "Turn the cart, head that way."
"Why?"
"You'll see."
They rode for a little more than a mile and were near the summit of a wooded hill when Mr. Malfoy told her to stop the cart and climb down. He led her to a badly overgrown path. "Sorry, I've not been here in years," he said as he pushed back branches for her as they climbed the short trail to a clearing.
"Oh, my," Vivien said softly. The sunset was even more glorious from the new perspective as they looked out over the landscape, with Malfoy Manor visible in the distance. "This is beautiful."
"Indeed," he smiled. "And this is the best spot on all my land for the enjoyment of a good sunset. I daresay it will enhance the appearance of even a middling sort of sunset and make the viewer believe it is a good sunset when watched from here."
They watched as the sun descended slightly, adding a hint of violet the scene. "We should leave before it gets too dark," he told her.
"Why did you laugh when I told you to stop and look at the sunset," she asked as they walked the short path from the clearing to where the horses waited.
"I laughed at the absurdity of my own negligence. I laughed that it took you to remind me of myself."
"I am not certain... Did you answer my question or not?"
"I answered it, but only for myself. Once upon a time–"
"Must you begin with 'Once upon a time'?" she sighed.
"Oh, in this case it is vital," he assured her as he gave her a hand to help her climb into the cart. He swung onto his horse and they began to descend from the hill. "Once upon a time Titus Malfoy... Perhaps you have heard of him?"
"The name is vaguely familiar."
"Once upon a time Titus Malfoy loved to look at sunsets. Then one day he married a young woman who saw nothing beautiful in sunsets. She viewed them as the death of the day and wanted nothing to do with them – it meant the end of the ride, or the hunt, or the picking of berries, or any of the other things she loved dearly. She wished every day could last forever. Over time he persuaded her to accept them as things of beauty. The two of them had a spot they loved to go and watch the sunsets–"
"A clearing atop a small hill?"
"Yes... I've not been there since she died. Thank you for making it remember it today. Thank you for making me look at a sunset again and appreciate its beauty.
"You loved her very much, didn't you?"
"Yes."
There seemed nothing more to say as they rode back, each lost in thought.
Several letters required the attention of Mr. Malfoy after dinner, including two invitations to dine. The invitation from Mrs. March was for everyone, including Matthias, to dinner any day which suited them next week. He looked over at the card table – Claudius and Vivien, the two best whist players among the four had taken Kitty and Matthias as their partners, respectively, to keep the game from being two uneven. Yorick's stand stood at a corner of the table between Claudius and Vivien and Claudius allowed the skull to view his cards and explained details of the game. "Mrs. March has invited us all to dinner next week, on the day of our choosing. Is there are any sort of preference?"
"Tuesday." "Wednesday." "Tuesday." "Thursday."
"And I cast my vote for Wednesday, so it will be Wednesday."
"Why did you ask," Claudius demanded, "if you had already decided?"
"Had three of you agreed on a day I might have changed my mind," Titus told his son as dipped his quill in ink to begin his reply.
The second invitation, from the Bedfords, was for Titus and Claudius alone a few days from Vivien and Kitty were scheduled to leave. Mr. Malfoy sighed. He would, of course, be seated by Lydia Bedford at the meal and she would fawn and compliment. He looked over at the card table and called, "Yorick!"
"That is not my name."
"T'is enough, t'will serve until such time as you give us a real name. I–"
"Never."
"I am in need of being insulted, and am hoping you will oblige."
"What?"
"I require some perspective. I received a letter from someone who flattered me – which I do not deserve, and–"
"Damned straight."
"Exactly. And I was hoping you might cast your usual pall upon the evening by offering some insults to me or my family."
"You are asking me to insult you?"
"Exactly."
"I... I can do nothing other than extend my sympathy to my friend Claudius for the descent of his father into madness."
Titus laughed, "Very good. Thank you."
"A fellow of infinite jest," Mr. Prewett commented.
"Damn!" the skull muttered.
"Claudius, We've been invited to dine with the Bedfords in three weeks. I am tempted to gently decline the invitation, but it strikes me you should see the neighbors before you leave for the continent."
"If we will be seeing Mrs. March in a week we might ask her for a recommendation for someone to work in the stable," Mr. Prewett suggested.
"An excellent–"
"Wait," the skull objected. "Claudius is leaving?"
"Father agreed only yesterday."
"Does that mean this damned girl will experiment on me with charms again?"
"You have embarrassed me quite enough," Miss Kestrel informed him. "Now, notice the long suit I am holding and try to assess how I will establish it."
"You're informing your partner you have a long suit," Claudius complained. "That's cheating."
"It's not cheating! We're playing for amusement - and to show Yorick the rules of the game!"
Mr. Malfoy chuckled and returned to his mail. At the end of the evening Claudius left the stand with the skull on a small side table. "Will you return that to your room or the dungeon?" Titus demanded.
"Tomorrow," Claudius yawned.
The son held a hurried conference with his father at the head of the stairs. "A house elf will straighten the library early tomorrow and put the stand on that shelf to the left of the fireplace. You will pretend not to notice. He will believe that he and I have tricked you."
"He will have to remain silent if I'm to feign ignorance of his being there – and warn the others. Miss Kelly will probably scream if she comes upon him by accident."
"I've told Matthias and Viv. She's supposed to tell Kitty tonight."
"And when he is discovered?"
"He will laugh and call you a fool for not seeing him earlier. Then he will demand you return him to the dungeon. In a fit of pique you will deny his request and say if he wanted to be on the shelf he may damn well stay there."
Thursday dawned overcast and rather than risk being drenched again Miss Kestrel and Mr. Malfoy did not go out to the farms. In the late morning the sky cleared somewhat and the two rode near the Manor with Claudius and Kitty. Vivien was on the back of the cob, once again, and Kitty rode Sparta. The men occasionally pointed out features of the landscape and related them to family history.
"Do you see that huge oak over there?" Mr. Malfoy asked Miss Kelly, pointing to an enormous tree.
"Aye."
"We call it the Druid Oak, quite possibly the most ancient oak in Britain." He slapped the flank of his mount to encourage a gallop, "And I'll race you around it and back!" He had a good lead before Kitty could respond and urge Sparta to a gallop.
"I can't believe your father would cheat," Vivien commented to Claudius.
"He isn't cheating. Sparta's the fastest horse he owns, he is simply adjusting the handicap."
"That lead? He must win."
"Bet you a sickle he loses."
Vivien eyed the distance and the space between the horses, "I accept.
"Good to see father happy again," Claudius told Vivien as they watched the race. "I resented it when he invited the two of you here, but it has been good for him."
Two minutes later Kitty returned, a length and a half in front of her host.
"Kitty?"
"Yes?"
"Can you loan me a sickle?"
"Why?"
"She bet against you," Claudius told the Irish girl. "She doesn't know Sparta and thought my father had cheated to gain an advantage."
"You bet against me, and you want to borrow a sickle?" Kitty sniffed. "I'm not Lizzy. I don't have a knut to spare."
"She bet on me?" Titus asked. "I'll pay her debt of honor."
"She bet on you," his son agreed, "but she said you were cheating."
"I did not!" Vivien protested. "I said I couldn't believe he would cheat – he has too much integrity."
"When you say you can't believe someone's cheating it means you think he is cheating."
Titus Malfoy held up a hand for silence. "Who offered the bet?"
"I did," Claudius told him.
"Since you offered it, and you know Sparta's ability, I shall pay you the sickle. I will see her bet as a sign of confidence in my ability. Miss Kestrel?"
"Yes."
"I advise you not to bet against my son."
"I should have learned that at Hogwarts."
"And I would add," Claudius told her, "don't bet against my father."
Late in the afternoon, back at the Hall, Mr. Malfoy looked out the window. "I imagine the clouds will make for an exceptional sunset."
"Is that an invitation?" Vivien asked.
"I... I suppose it is."
As the sun sank low it illuminated the bottoms of the clouds, lighting the entire horizon as if it were on fire.
Vivien stared at the unfamiliar sight. "Mother and I never saw such sunsets. The sky is gray in the city. At Hogwarts... Well, there are no windows in in Slytherin, although I was sometimes outside."
"Do you remember your father at all?"
"No... Mother has a miniature and that is fixed in my memory as the way he looked. Why?"
"Standing by you I suddenly felt old. I am old enough to be your father."
"Had he lived my father would have been much older than you. You must have been terribly young yourself when Claudius was born."
"It didn't seem that way at the time, but you are right. I would have only been a year or two older than Claudius is now – and I can't imagine him as a father."
"You see, you are not old at all. And you have multiple women in pursuit of you... That one you mentioned last night... Lydia something, and the woman who walked in with us at the Whitleys."
"Abigail. They are both muggles."
"But either would consider you a fine catch."
He laughed, "And my head would be stuffed and mounted and displayed over the fireplace as a trophy."
She looked at him in the growing twilight, then stretched out her hand and softly touched his cheek. "I think I prefer your head where it is now, on your shoulders."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. "We, ah, should return to the Hall for dinner."
She cursed herself inwardly for the gesture as they walked silently back to the horses. What would he think of her? That she was a flirt? That she was an opportunist after his money? It had made him uncomfortable, she was certain of that. He probably doubted her motives of her morals – perhaps both.
His thoughts were rather different from what she imagined. "I am old enough to be her father," he reminded himself. "She attended Hogwarts with my son."
After dinner Claudius announced he planned to talk with his mother's portrait and then work on straightening closets and wardrobes as he considered what clothing he would require for his travels and what books, clothing, and toys he felt he would never need again. "I will need muggle clothing for most of the journey. I'll prepare a list tonight and take the floo to the City tomorrow. Need to get things started if there is a prayer of having them finished before I leave." He turned to Vivien, "Does your shop do muggle men's wear?"
She blushed at the reminder of her own rung on the social ladder, "Yes," she mumbled. She was a shop girl at best and had no business at the Malfoy home, and even less business touching her host in a familiar manner.
"I'll go there then. Father, you don't have business tonight – why don't you take my place at the whist table and continue Kitty's lessons? I've taken the skull up my room so you won't need to continue his lessons as well." He said the last loudly enough for the skull to hear in what it presumed was its unknown location.
Titus Malfoy awakened slightly earlier than usual on Friday. He dressed and went downstairs. He tapped his fingers nervously on the table which Miss Sloper took as a sign of impatience at the house elves for not getting breakfast done more quickly for their master. In reality he was concerned about the day. He wished he could spend time alone with Miss Kestrel, but knew that would be inappropriate. Miss Kelly would be in the stable. Matthias had work to do. Claudius had spoken about going to London. He didn't need to go out with Mr. Trotter, but that might serve the purpose of allowing him to be with Miss Kestrel while not being alone with her.
As he pondered his plans for the day Claudius entered the room.
"You're up unusually early," the father commented.
"Off to London. Oh, I will not be seeing Peter while there. He is delirious happy with your proposal and will do nothing the jeopardize it. Were I to try and see him before the agreed upon time I feel confident he would whack me with a beater's club. Do you wish to see the list of what I plan to order?"
"Yes, please." Claudius pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to his father. "A shorter list than I expected."
"Practicality is the order of the day. Too much baggage will slow me down – and ordering too many new clothes will delay the departure. Should I purchase supplies for copying the manuscripts in Diagon, or wait until I arrive at Durmstrang?"
"You can wait, fewer things to ship."
"Thank you. Oh, I may stay in London most of the day to gather travel schedules, if that meets with your approval."
"Fine idea."
"What is a fine idea?" Miss Kelly asked as she entered the room with Vivien.
"Claudius will find travel schedules while in London," Mr. Malfoy answered. He looked at Vivien. "You know the City. Do you want to accompany him?" Mr. Malfoy recognized it would probably be safer for him to have the pretty witch gone for the day.
"Father still hopes that throwing us together might result in an engagement," Claudius chuckled. "But seriously, Viv, it would make my errands much easier. Lunch wherever you want."
Vivien hesitated. She felt like she was being tested and wasn't sure if the right answer was to go with Claudius or stay. If she agreed to go it might appear she still had an interest in marriage to him – which she had given up. Turning him down might make her appear truculent, or make it seem she had turned her sights on Mr. Malfoy. She looked at her host, "What would you prefer I do?"
Claudius shook his head in amazement, "Kitty, in seven years of living with Viv, did you ever hear her ask that question?"
"Maybe to Lizzy. Seems like she usually owed Lizzy money after making some bad wager."
Titus Malfoy coughed gently to gain attention, "Miss Kestrel, I would consider it a great personal favor if you would help Claudius today... Perhaps I can repay you for your time with dinner at the Wand Club this evening?"
"Excellent idea, father, when should we be there this evening?" Claudius chimed in.
Mr. Malfoy hesitated. In his mind he had pictured himself dining alone with Miss Kestrel. That, however, would have been disastrous for her reputation and utterly inappropriate on his part for him to be seen with her. "Six-thirty." He turned to Kitty, "Have you eaten at the Wand Club?"
"No."
"We will give the house elves the evening off. You and Mr. Prewett will also dine there."
After breakfast Claudius and Vivien departed by floo for the Leaky Cauldron.
Vivien wondered if Claudius chose her mother's shop for his wardrobe to humiliate her with the memory of her position. "Why are you going here?"
"Because I hear it is the best."
Mrs. Kestrel was delighted to see her daughter and assumed her plans were going well when Vivien entered the shop with a young man. She had a few minutes to quietly ask questions after Claudius had been measured and was looking at the bolts of available tweed. "How is your pursuit going?"
"I've given up on being Mrs. Malfoy. It will not happen."
"He is not buying for trip abroad after marrying you?"
"No."
"I'm sorry. You had your heart set on–"
"I would prefer not to talk about it. It was a mistake. I realize that now."
Kestrel's took most of the morning. A muggle pub provided lunch and the afternoon was spent on inquiries about channel crossings, shipping rates, and coach schedules on the continent. To Vivien's surprise Claudius spent so much time speaking with an agent about homes to let in France that she had to remind him they needed to move quickly to get to the Club.
At six-thirty the fireplace in the Club's smoking room flared and Mr. Malfoy, Miss Kelly, and Mr. Prewett stepped out.
Kitty looked around, "We're eating here?"
"This room is for wizards who wish to enjoy a cigar or pipe. It is also for those arriving by floo. We will eat in the smaller dining room," Mr. Malfoy whispered.
Kitty's nerves failed her at the sight of crystal, silverware, and damask napkins on the crisp white linen tablecloths in the dining room. "This is scarier than the dungeon," she whispered, What's all those forks and spoons by each place?"
"Different silverware for different courses," Vivien told her quietly.
Whispered directions from Mr. Prewett and closely following Vivien's actions allowed Kitty to finish the meal without bolting from the room, but her fears of doing something wrong kept her unable to enjoy the food.
"Viv's picking up some peculiar habits out here in the country," Kitty remarked to her host during breakfast on Saturday.
"Oh?"
"Shhh," Miss Kestrel hissed.
Miss Kelly continued, "Getting up early. Never knew Viv to get out of bed before ten at Hogwarts – unless she had a class or something."
"If there is nothing special to do one may as well rest," Vivien answered defensively. "I am finding things to do here in the country." She turned to her host. "What shall we do today? Shall we go out with Mr. Trotter?"
"I fear I have no particular plans for the day. I thought we might ride with Miss Kelly while she exercises Sparta, then continue our ride and return in the afternoon. I am taking your advice and letting Mr. Trotter do his job without peering over his shoulder."
"That will not do," Vivien told him. "I had my heart set on a picnic. But you are right to give Mr. Trotter his freedom from supervision today, and that means it will be your duty to have luncheon al fresco with me. And, because I spent yesterday helping Claudius in the city I will impose a further forfeit – you must show me the most beautiful site on your property for a picnic."
Kitty laughed, "Claude was right yesterday. You don't hear Viv offer to do whatever you want very often – and when you do it appears you end up paying for it later."
Titus smiled, "I don't suppose you might accept the second most beautiful spot?" he offered in counter-proposal. "We could save the most beautiful for another day."
"No. I walked my feet off yesterday in service to Claudius and I deserve the most beautiful spot. You may keep the second best in reserve for when I perform some lesser accomplishment."
Shortly after noon Titus spread out a carpet and Vivien set down the hamper. They were at the shaded edge of a meadow with a view of tilled fields. "Are you certain this is the most beautiful?" she demanded. "I had imaged something wild in the forest."
"Better for our reputations to be in the open. I wouldn't want a tenant seeing our horses and wondering what we were doing in the woods."
With no demands pressing on either of them they stayed in the meadow for hours. She encouraged him to tell her of his time at Hogwarts. As the shadows began to lengthen she imagined she understood his late wife's opinion. She did not want the day to end, she wanted to stay seated by him forever. "We should be returning to the Hall."
"Another half hour?" she pleaded.
"Another demand?"
"No... I simply enjoy being here with you more than backgammon or whist."
He smiled, "And your answer purchases another half hour of my undivided attention."
On Sunday morning Kitty used the excuse of needing to tend the horses to keep from attending Reverend Henley's service.
As they arrived at the church more whispering then usual could be heard as Vivien stepped down from the carriage.
"This is the sort of trouble putting charms on muggles causes," her host whispered as they went inside.
The pretty witch caught parishioners staring at her whenever she glanced around the sanctuary, but she wanted to believe it was only her beauty, or the fact she occupied a place on the pew between their landlord and his son which made her the center of attention. She learned another motive at the end of the service.
At the end of the service, as the Malfoy party left the church, Reverend Henley warmly shook the hand of Mr. Malfoy and nodded in the direction of Miss Kestrel. "I am delighted you could bring the angel."
"Angel?" Claudius snorted. "I am certain that is the first time anyone referred to Viv in that manner."
"It is the talk of the parish," the minister assured him. "Some ask if she could walk on water."
"Assure them I cannot," Vivien told him.
Mr. Prewett made his customary adjustment to his glasses relative to their position on his nose. "They are attributing miracle to Miss Kestrel?"
"She and Lord Malfoy visited a family in the parish, the Throutons, and afterward the husband claims to have had a religious experience. He has renounced drinking and vowed to be a loving father and husband. My suspicion is that he suffered from delirium tremens, but later in the week she was able to put the fear of God into a thief who confessed his sins, and that caused some of my parishioners to remember that she had visited the Throutons and–"
"How is the Throuton family?" Vivien interjected.
"I'm hoping that whatever fear he imagined will stay with him," the reverend told her. "His wife and children are delighted with the change, and I pray the domestic change will encourage him to remain on the narrow path. I am more curious how you worked your miracle with Billy Smith."
"There was no miracle," Miss Kestrel assured him. "I hoped that a guilty conscience might be preying upon him and reminded him of the gospel. If any miracle was wrought the credit must be given to God."
The man of God smiled, "Your modesty is becoming, but it won't stop speculation in the parish that you served as his ministering angel."
Claudius teased Vivien on her elevation to sainthood on the ride back to the manor.
Miss Kestrel tried in vain to spend time alone with her host in the afternoon, but failed on every attempt. She wasn't certain what was happening. She had enjoyed their time together yesterday so much she wanted to know him even better. If he reciprocated her feelings she thought he would surely be just as anxious to spend time with her. He had promised her nothing, said nothing of love, but she had never felt as happy in her life as she had the afternoon before. Perhaps she had read too much into his friendship. Or, she reflected, the comments he had made about her not being a suitable match for Claudius indicated he had no interest in her.
In the afternoon she rode with with him, and Kitty and Claudius as Mr. Prewett went to fetch Reverend Henley, but there was no time for private conversation. At dinner she was separated from him.
After dinner Mr. Malfoy himself drove the Reverend back to his manse, with the excuse he wanted to discuss matters of the parish – but as Vivien sat down to whist with Claudius, Kitty, and Matthias she felt certain her host had chosen the task simply to remove himself from her presence.
Vivien's guess was correct in that Mr. Malfoy deliberately sought to avoid her. Her guess that their relative social positions was a factor was correct. Social convention was clear – she was too inferior for a relationship. But he had not felt as happy in years as he had felt as they ate in the meadow yesterday. Which created the second problem for Titus Malfoy, the certainty that any feelings for Vivien were an insult to the memory of his late wife. And his final problem was the difference in their ages – he had a son her age. It was not safe for him to be alone with her any more. He would make certain they were always in the presence of another person. Mr. Trotter filled that position very well, he might go out with Miss Kestrel on business with the steward, but under no circumstances would he allow himself to be alone with her again.
On the return of Mr. Malfoy from taking the reverend home Mr. Prewett offered him his place at the card table, with Vivien as a partner.
"No thank you. I have estate business to attend to," he replied, moving to the desk. "I'll leave you young people to the cards."
Vivien spent so much time stealing glances at Titus Malfoy, wondering what was going on in his mind, to make her play at the table spectacularly poor.
"Where is your head, Viv?" Kitty demanded. "You're playing worse than I am."
"Sorry," she apologized to those at the table. "I have a headache."
"One more game before you retire?" Claudius asked. "I do so enjoy beating you and Matthias."
Vivien did her best to concentrate on playing, but to no avail.
She went to her room at the game's end and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. To be so near him, and yet ignored by him, was agony. She should never have come. She had no business hoping to wed Claudius, his father had seen that and told her so bluntly. He could not see her in any other light than the daughter of a Diagon seamstress who had desired to marry his son for the family money. She closed her eyes, her temples throbbing. The headache was real enough, and it would only grow stronger if she remained under the roof of Titus Malfoy. Instead of undressing for bed she stood up and began packing her things.
Downstairs Titus Malfoy took Vivien's place at the card table. He spent enough time thinking of Miss Kestrel that his own game went poorly.
It was after eleven when Vivien opened her door. The house was quiet, but there was still light coming up the stairs. She checked Kitty's room, but the Irish girl was not there so Vivien quickly wrote a short note. She slipped into Kitty's room and left the parchment, then pulled her levitated trunk through the dark hallway. She pushed open the doorway to the nursery and approached the fireplace.
"Who's there?" a voice demanded.
The blond witch allowed the trunk to settle to the floor. "Lumos!" By the light of her wand she saw the speaker was the portrait of Mrs. Malfoy.
"I believe you are Miss Kestrel," the painting commented.
"Yes, M'am. I was told this fireplace connects with the floo network."
"It is. Very handy for the physicians if the baby is colicky or has the croup. May I ask why you are here? The fact you appear fully packed says you are leaving, but the hour is most unusual as is the fact you are using this fireplace and not one of the larger ones."
"I need to leave."
"Why? I am quite certain you were invited for at least a month."
"Yes, M'am... But I don't... I can't stay."
"And I am asking why. This is most unusual."
"I will never marry your son."
"I am well aware of that. Claudius has spoken with me. Were you so much in love with him that it represents a great disappointment to you?"
"No... I... Since I recognized that truth I would feel foolish remaining here."
"Forgive me, I am still puzzled. Do you think it was foolish to desire an advantageous marriage?"
Vivien hesitated. She could be ridiculed for either answer. "It was foolish of me to come here. I had no right to any expectations."
"Of course not, but you had them anyway. And I still don't understand why you are sneaking off in the middle of the night."
"Because, as I told you, I would feel foolish staying here."
"Your behavior was either not foolish or it was foolish. If it was not foolish there is no reason for you to leave – certainly no reason to leave like a thief in the night. If it were foolish it will be no less foolish at a distance than it would be by facing it here – and your foolishness would be further compounded by your flight."
"No... I can't face your husband."
"First, let me remind you he is not my husband. I am a portrait. Has Titus said anything to you which has made you think you should leave? I can't believe that of him. Are you sure you are not mistaken in the meaning of his words."
"He said nothing, I–"
"Then what did he do?"
"He has done nothing wrong! He is a gentleman in every way! I have never met a kinder, more thoughtful man in my entire life! He has been... His behavior is... I... I have to go."
"Child, you are having a little difficulty with the concept of answering a question. I ask a question because I am in want of clarification. You, in providing an answer, are supposed to supply the clarification I desire. You, however, are leaving me in a state of either greater confusion. Titus is a very kind and thoughtful man. Why does this make you want to leave the house in the middle of the night? You will hurt his feelings by making him think he is a poor host."
"I don't mean to hurt anyone, honestly I don't. But I can't stay."
"And for the... I didn't count... This is probably the fourth or fifth time I've asked you, 'Why?'."
"Because... Because I have become fond of him."
Had the portrait required breath she would have sighed deeply, "I asked you to try and clarify my understanding with your answers, not to confuse me further."
"I... I like your husband very–"
"Stop. Repeat after me, not my husband."
"Not your husband."
"Very good. Proceed."
"I have become very fond of Mr. Malfoy while here. He is kindness and compassion and thoughtfulness and good humor and–"
"Yes, yes. And his wife loved him, but she had a somewhat more realistic knowledge of him. But why does a fondness for him cause you to flee the... Oh," the portrait stopped talking for a moment, then continued gently, " And it hurts so much that you fear being with him will cause you even greater agony than you cause yourself by leaving in this manner?"
Vivien nodded dumbly.
"I am sorry, child."
"He loved you very much."
"He loved his late wife very much," the picture reminded her. "And while I am gratified to hear that I am uncertain what difference it makes."
"He loved her. He thinks I'm a selfish, vain, stupid child."
"I can't believe Titus would say that of anyone."
"He doesn't have to. I know. He thinks I came here with clothes designed to impress him... I probably did. But I don't understand anything. I make a fool of myself time and again. I just want to go home and forget the name of Malfoy."
"Why do you think you made a fool of yourself?"
"I don't know what to say. I don't know how to act. I don't even know how to dress, I–"
"You are talking nonsense again. If you are a Kestrel how could you not know how to dress?"
"I don't know anything here. I belong in the city. There I understand what is expected of me. Coming here was the most ill-considered thing I've ever done – I was too foolish to even realize it was a mistake."
"Would you feel any better if I told you that Titus does not have a good sense of the expectations on him when he visits the city?"
"No, for I would not believe you."
"Why not."
"I would think you were saying it merely to make me feel better."
"I am saying it to make you feel better, but it doesn't alter the truth. His father hated the city and Titus could sometimes make great fashion blunders. We tried to raise Claudius to be comfortable in both, but... Poor Claudius. I fear he will never find a place in which he may be comfortable."
"I must leave," Vivien told the portrait, pulling aside the fire screens to make the fireplace accessible..
"Where will you go at this time of night?" the painting asked.
"The Leaky Cauldron... My mother's shop... Our shop is near... Someone will help."
The painting tried to warn her, "You can't solve your problems by running away." But before she could finish Miss Kestrel was gone.
Kitty yawned and uncurled herself from the chair in the library. "I can't believe I finished that novel," she commented to Mr. Prewett, who labored behind a pile of tomes at the library table.
"Turning in?"
"Yes. You?"
"I want to finish indexing this manuscript tonight."
"Well, I'll see you in the morning."
Assuming Vivien had been asleep for several hours Kitty didn't knock on her friend's door. She looked out her bedroom window before undressing and frowned, there appeared to be a light from the stable. The Irish girl wondered if it was some manner of reflection from the house. She thought she heard a whinny, but doubted that was even possible, given the distance from house to stable, and suspected it was nothing but her own imagination. Still, she knew she would be unable to sleep if she didn't investigate. She left her room quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone or give them the opportunity to laugh at her for groundless fears.
The door to the stable creaked open to Kitty's push, and she realized her fears were not groundless. A lantern, the wick turned low, hung from a nail driven into a post and she could see several saddles and other equipment of value piled to be loaded. She should have returned to the house and requested assistance, but what she saw angered her – and Kitty did not always think clearly when angry.
She realized that when she was grabbed from behind. A rough hand went over her mouth to keep her quiet and another hand ripped at her shirt.
"Didn' think I'd find you," a voice whispered in her ear.
She bit down on the hand.
Her attacker groaned in pain and jerked her head back painfully, but didn't let go. The hand pawing at her tried to cuff her head.
Kitty tasted her attacker's blood in her mouth. She twisted in his hands, and was struck in the face, but pulled free.
"Clarence?"
He grabbed her arm to keep her from running, and slapped her with his bloody hand.
The blow knocked her to the ground.
He tried to jump on top of her, but she rolled to the side and scrambled to her feet. She managed to kick him in the gonads, and wished she were wearing work boots and not light house shoes.
The kick hurt, but Clarence couldn't let her escape the stable and raise the alarm. He tackled her, hard. slamming her against the wooden wall of a stall and knocking the breath from her small body and bruising himself.
Kitty couldn't get at the wand in the pocket sewn into her sleeve, but she defended herself with desperation. Even with the breath knocked out of her lungs she brought her knee up into his crotch.
It wasn't a square hit, but he groaned in pain and swung a fist at her. She twisted aside and he hit the planks with his fist, bringing another groan to his lips.
She hit him, but she was a fraction of his size and the blow seemed only to anger him. She hit him again, then an open handed slap sent her reeling, her head ringing.
Matthias Prewett sat in the Malfoy library, trying to catch up on one of the many projects which had been so-often interrupted since the arrival of the two young women. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, but it was too dark for a clear view of whoever had entered the room.
"Help me... Please..."
The voice sounded somewhat like that of Miss Kelly, but with a note of fear Matthias had never heard from the young woman. The scholar shoved himself back from the library table and ran to her. As he neared her he saw the torn clothing. Dirt and straw covered her clothing, with straw in the locks of hair which had worked loose from the braid. Scratches on her face added some blood to the dirt on her countenance. He skidded to a half, uncertain how to proceed. "What happened? What can I do? Can I get you anything? I..."
"Stable... Went out... Attacked."
"Who attacked?" Matthias demanded, his voice harsh with anger.
"Clarence. I–"
"Let me get my wand," Mr. Prewett told her and spun on his heel and ran back to the desk for his tool. "I'll find him."
"He's in stable," Kitty gasped. "I may have killed him."
"What?"
"I think he wanted to... to... abuse me. He didn't expect me to fight. When... After I knocked him down I hit him. And hit him. I... I may... I don't know if he's alive."
"Sit down, calm your nerves," Matthias suggested. "I'll go the stable and see what–"
"No," she said, clutching his arm. "I don't want to be alone."
"Go up and see Miss Kestrel."
"Not now. I have... You... I'll show you. I need to know."
She clung to him as they left the Hall and walked through the night to the stable. A mixture of anger and uncertainty preyed on the thin scholar. Part of him wished the stablehand was dead. Part of him wished the stablehand was still alive – so that Matthias might have the pleasure of killing him himself. And part of him feared the stablehand was less injured than Miss Kelly imagined and was now hiding in the night, armed with some improvised weapon from a tool in the stable and lying in wait to attack them. He kept a firm grip on his wand, but found his hand trembled. He cautiously pushed open the stable door and the two heard a groan.
"Sounds alive," Mr. Prewett whispered. The lantern hanging on the nail still burned and cast a dim circle of illumination. "Stay here," he ordered. "Perhaps he has recovered enough to fight again."
The Irish girl obeyed and stayed near the door as the thin scholar cautiously advanced. Even a cursory examination suggested the former stablehand would not be attacking anyone for a long time.
"You said you hit him?"
"Yes."
"What did you hit him with?"
"A shovel... One for mucking out the stalls."
"Well, that explains the odor."
"Is he going to die?"
"We're all going to die. But I don't think you've inflicted wounds which will do the job. Let me look a little closer." He took down the lantern and conducted a closer examination. "Broken and cracked bones, but they could be set easily enough – not that I plan to. No serious lacerations so he won't bleed to death. I shall inform Mr. Malfoy and contact the sheriff."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want muggles messing about. Maybe they'll see something. Mr. Malfoy has been kind and I don't want to cause him any problems."
"Well we can't very well leave Clarence here."
"Could you do something?"
"What?"
"Please?"
"What do you want me to do?" Matthias sighed.
"I don't know... Drive him out in a wagon and drop him somewhere?"
"No. I don't... Fine, I'll do it. On the condition you go into the house and stay with Miss Kestrel."
"I... All right."
Mr. Prewett pointed his wand at the unconscious Clarence.
"What are you going to do?" Kitty demanded.
"Memory charm. He won't remember what happened."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I want him to remember. I want him to remember a woman half his size beat him bloody. I want him to be afraid to ever show his face here again. I want him to be afraid that if he ever attacked another woman she might be able to beat him to death."
"Uh, yes. Well, you go into the house and I'll harness the horses–"
"Do you have any idea how to do that?"
"Not really."
"I'll help. Should I go along with you?"
"No, you agreed to go in and see Miss Kestrel. I'll make sure I unhitch the horses and put them in their proper stalls when I get back."
A mobilicorpus spell loaded the former stablehand onto the back of the wagon. Kitty closed the doors behind him as Matthias drove out into the night, then she headed for the house.
It was more than an hour before Mr. Prewett returned to the house. He wasn't sure about how he had left the wagon, but he congratulated himself on getting the horses properly put away. He'd left Clarence at a side of the road by a crossroads. Whoever found him would assume robbers had beaten him and left him for dead – and Clarence would agree to the story for fear of the true story being known. Matthias would have liked assurance that Kitty was feeling better, but would not knock on her bedroom door or that of Vivien.
"Lumos," he ordered as the front door closed behind him. The brilliant light illuminated his way up the stairs to his own bedroom. When he entered his room he found a small form curled up on his bed. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Viv's gone," Kitty answered.
"Gone?"
"Could she be in the library or somewhere about the Hall?"
"All her clothes are gone. She's left."
"But... But... What are you doing here?"
She held out a hand, visibly shaking. "I'm still scared. I don't want to be alone. I don't know how I managed to doze off, but... nightmares."
"I... But you can't stay here."
"Why not?"
"It wouldn't be right. There's a bed in here."
"I believe that's why it's called a bedroom."
"You can't stay here with me here."
"When company comes we sometimes have five of us in a bed at home."
"This isn't home... What of your reputation?"
"Right now my nerves are more important than my reputation. Sit and talk with me."
"Fine," he sighed. She patted a spot beside her on the bed. "No. I'll sit here," he told her and moved to a settee near the fireplace. He put his feet up on a tuffet. "What do you want to talk about?"
She looked slightly irritated and rose from the bed and walked over the settee. "I don't need to talk so much, I just don't want to be alone just now." She sat beside him on the small couch as he edged nervously over to give her more room. "Put your arm around me," she ordered as she leaned against him.
"Anything else," he asked timidly as he put his right arm around her and she adjusted her position slightly.
"Nope," she yawned. "Don't have to say a word. I'll feel better in a few minutes. I... Thanks..."
Faster than Mr. Prewett would have imagined possible the soft, regular breathing of a sleeper came from Kitty. He wasn't certain if he would sleep at all.
Perhaps Mr. Malfoy should have tried to have Billy Smith arrested, but he recognized a serious lack of hard evidence to present to a magistrate and didn't want questions about the curious confession. Billy Smith, accepted being thrown out of his home rather than be arrested and facing transportation or worse.
Medical literature from 1813 attaches the name delirium tremens to the hallucinations and other problems associated with alcohol withdrawal.
