Sorry it has been so long; my life has been inordinately busy! But here is a chapter at last, thanks for waiting.

Misao's vow of swift, painful revenge against Aoshi Darcy was somewhat delayed by the casino the next day and further hampered by Phantomhive meddling in the aftermath of her success with Kanryū. Pleased with his employee's work, the young earl had made a rather startling announcement two days after Misao's second encounter with their target.

"Kanryū's no fool," Ciel stated flatly to Misao as he lifted the fine bone china teacup to his lips. The two were sitting in the earl's elegant drawing room and Sebastian was serving them tea with his normal grace. "Although you have done a fine job capturing his interest, he will not let emotion overtake reason. Believe me, he will constantly be evaluating how much he can trust you and even more so," the exposed blue eye fixed on Misao intently, "how much he can manipulate you into benefiting him. To Kanryū, people are merely pawns to be used." Pausing for a moment, the earl scowled darkly. "You would be wise never to forget that, Misao."

Gee, being manipulated by someone who sees other people only as pawns, Misao thought sarcastically. It's not like that's an entirely novel experience for me. The barest puff of a snort escaped her lips at the thought, and the sound of it made Ciel's face harden a trifle as his eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing. Placing the teacup down with a tad more force than needed, the young lord continued.

"Kanryū is no doubt investigating you to see if your story is true. While Sebastian and I have been laying down some foundations, Madam Noir is still, at this moment, an enigma. She must be brought out of the shadows and have substance, otherwise Kanryū will not trust her."

Misao pondered this for a moment over a bite of cake. Back at home, Okina had kept her running around enough that despite how much Misao ate, Riko was always bemoaning how skinny her second oldest daughter was. In London, Ciel and Sebastian were keeping Misao occupied enough with cerebral challenges but physical activity was not as forthcoming as it had been and surprisingly abundant curves were beginning to creep up on her willowy frame, much to her delight. Misao put it down to a less rigorous lifestyle plus the abundance of French pastries Sebastian kept pushing on her, and she was quietly pleased with her increased assets.

Chewing the delicate chocolate torte, Misao questioned, "What did you have in mind?" She had long ceased to be fairly formal with the earl in private and had discovered that as long as she didn't take too many liberties, he overlooked her occasional lapses into casualness.

The young lord laced his fingers together in front of his face, and Misao saw the gesture she was growing accustomed to experiencing: a finger thoughtfully rubbing the ornate blue ring on his thumb. It meant that Ciel was deep in thought or troubled by something, but his young face was calm as usual.

To Misao's surprise, her employer turned the question back on her. "I'm more interested in your ideas. What say you?" A thin smile of challenge rose on his lips as his one eye gazed at her coolly.

Misao didn't demure as Sebastian placed another slice of the exquisite torte in front of her. The butler had long sussed out her weakness for sweets and pressed rich pastries and desserts upon her whenever he could. Poking the fresh piece with a fork, Misao began thinking out loud.

"I've been around town long enough that were I to suddenly disappear, it would look strange," she began slowly. "In fact, it is probably best if I continue...Well, perhaps..." Misao stopped talking for a few minutes, substituting speech for a few more bites of cake as her mind tossed ideas about.

Finally, a reasonable ruse came to mind, and she nodded approvingly. "An illness, I think, would be the best excuse. I've suddenly come down with something serious and need a lot of rest and recuperation. This will prevent me from needing to be out in the public eye much."

Ciel nodded. "It's a start. Continue."

Misao forked another piece of torte and kept thinking. "The Marchioness should conveniently have a relative or friend with a sickly daughter," she added slowly. "It is decided that bringing the invalids for a bathing cure at the seaside would be helpful. This way I can be absent from London but return if I need to."

"And?" the earl questioned. "Think carefully of all avenues you must consider."

Misao twisted her lips thoughtfully. "Madame Noir is the type of woman to live independently. Her husband was wealthy and recently left her a young widow, and she has the means to live comfortably on her own."

"Yet no one in London knows about her," the Phantomhive lord pressed. "How will you explain Madam Noir's sudden entrance into London in a way that amply explains for her relationship with Lau?"

Misao nodded, thinking hard, then inspiration hit again. "She and her husband were stationed in China for several years. Lau made a trip to China where he encountered Madam Noir and they began their...ah, relationship." A blush rose to her cheeks as she said the words but she plunged ahead doggedly. "And...it happened before her husband died. I think something scandalous like that would appeal to Kanryū." Fleetingly, Misao recoiled at the thought of how much of a scarlet woman she was painting her alias out to be, but the new world she was slowly worming her way into was neither moral nor restrained: making a virtue out of a vice was likely going to be a fairly common occurrence in the future.

Continuing, Misao added fresh ideas. "When Lau returned to England, he and Madam Noir corresponded frequently, and when her husband died, the young widow became part of Lau's business, heavily investing her husband's money and managing Lau's Chinese contacts for him."

The slight smile of approval on Ciel's face encouraged her and Misao hurried forward, her voice rising in in triumph. "Not long ago, Madam Noir moved to England to be with Lau, but soon upon arrival she discovered that he had taken a new mistress and Madam Noir was of no further interest to him. Although she is still comparatively wealthy, she has lost much of her fortune to Lau and had no legal recourse to recoup it. She is furious and hurt and seeking revenge."

"Good," Ciel permitted himself a rare word of praise. "You thought through issues well and I will admit that your plan is slightly better than the one Sebastian and I created. It will be done." Dusting his hands off firmly, the young lord pronounced, "I will speak with my aunt and we will lay the foundation for your illness and subsequent rest cure. In the meanwhile, Madam Noir will have private quarters commissioned for her. For now, she has been discretely living at the Savory under an assumed name. Sebastian and I have seen to it that such a person exists with a record should Kanryū begin investigating. Once Misao Bennet has left London, Madam Noir may begin making a permanent appearance."

Misao nodded, shooting one quick longing glance at the remains of the torte resting on the tea tray, but resisted the urge to ask for more. At this rate, I'm going to become fat and won't be able to run across roofs anymore, she cautioned herself and pulled her eyes away from the treat. Hopefully being Madam Noir will require a lot more exercise than I've been getting lately. With that hopeful thought, Misao pulled herself to her feet, pondering what dread illness would be best suited for her new disguise.


The earl of Phantomhive was quick but exacting, meticulously laying down the foundation needed for the next stage of their endeavor as Misao settled into her new task of becoming a convincing invalid. It wasn't easy for she was inordinately healthy and vigorous, and her new duties required entirely too much languishing around the house and looking appropriately pale and wan whenever callers dropped by. The Marchioness did her part by ordering an endless succession of doctors to the house and fussing over Misao in an imperial, forthright manner whenever there was someone around to witness it. The ruse worked and soon word spread in genteel circles that the Marchioness' new protegee was wasting away from some dread illness.

Misao had a hard time putting up a convincing sickly front around guests and an even harder time around doctors. Medicine men came and poked and asked questions, and Misao did her best to answer weakly and cough as much as she could. It nearly drove her crazy to do so and she was highly suspicious that she was wholly failing to convince, but a word from the Marchioness strangely put her at ease.

"You won't be the first healthy female to put on airs of sickness, girl," the peer had pronounced with a sniff one day as yet another doctor had departed the town home, clutching a hefty fee and leaving behind a collection of noxious potions Misao had no intention of taking. "There are plenty of women making a career out of being fashionably invalid. Even if the doctors suspect there is nothing wrong with you, they will happily take their fees and keep quiet. You have nothing to worry about."

However, Misao did have to worry about the steady stream of letters coming from home anxiously inquiring about her health. She tried to answer them as well as she could, assuring Tsubame that a visit London to attend Misao's health was unnecessary and soothing Riko by promising that a rest cure at the sea would soon set her right. But it was difficult maintaining the aura of a sick person without causing the Bennet family undue anxiety.

Even less easy was answering the missives written in Okina's shaky hand, the irregular lettering quiet testimony to the fact that he had still not fully recovered. Her father's letters were sharper, laced with heavy concern and the merest touch of suspicion that there was far more happening to his daughter than she let on. Finally, Misao resorting to finishing a letter to her father with a postscript in the code they had devised together. In translation, it said, I am fine. Please do not worry. Take care of Mother and the girls and I will return as soon as I can. In retrospect, Misao suspected that the postscript would agitate her father more than it would assure him and she was half-worried that he would come storming into London intent on discovering what she had entangled herself in. To ward Okina off, Misao had been very clear in her letter that she would soon be leaving for the sea with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, a close friend of the Marchioness, and her daughter Anne who was actually sickly, providing excellent cover for Misao. Hopefully the news would stay Okina's hand and keep him away from London.

The letter seemed to do the trick, for Okina did not materialize and plans for Misao's departure moved forward without hindrance. Whenever everything was properly settled, Misao Bennet would be leaving London with Lady Catherine and Miss Anne. Soon after that, Madam Noir would take up residence in her newly commissioned quarters and immerse herself fully in whatever the earl of Phantomhive had in store for her.

Fine. As long as I can stop pretending to be weak and sick, Misao thought longingly one day as she rested her back against a silk cushion in the Marchioness's sitting room, doing her best to appear pale and delicate-looking while three regally dressed matrons fussed over her and gabbled in voices like a flock of arguing chickens. Misao had long forgotten who the three visitors were, some friends of the Marchioness and likely possessing long titles of some sort, and the women were gossiping happily about Misao as if she was not actually present in the room. Misao ignored them, focusing on carefully lifting a teacup to her lips as if it took all her strength and letting her mind wander as it may.

Strange at how often it wandered to thoughts of Mr. Darcy, and each recollection made her want to fling the teacup at the wall and go storming off to hunt the bastard down to kill him. However, the space of more than two weeks and a flurry of activities had taken the edge off some of her anger; although Misao was still furious with the man, as time passed, it became more important to correct the situation than kill the one responsible or at least restore Yahiko to Tsubame before Misao stuck a knife between Darcy's ribs and let him bleed out in the streets. But as she fumed and plotted what sort of death best befit the crime against her sister, Colonel Fitzgerald's words kept circling around her head and refusing to be pushed aside. Again and again, Misao heard his utterance in her mind: Darcy cares for his friend and wants him settled in a suitable marriage where there is genuine affection on both sides.

Every recollection made Misao shake her head and growl under her breath. Mr. Bingley would have been settled in a marriage with genuine affection on both sides if Darcy possessed the brains of a kumquat and a pair of eyes. Misao knew that Tsubame was quiet and restrained and was not a person to be overtly demonstrative of her affection, but still. How could any reasonably intelligent person who had spent more than three minutes in the company of Yahiko and Tsubame have doubted in any way...

But Misao's natural sense of fairness and justice quietly demanded their due and much as she hated to admit it, she could not fault, however grudgingly, Aoshi's concern for his friend, although she highly suspected that the man's real motivation for driving a wedge between the couple had been because Tsubame was poor and Yahiko rich. But if the Colonel had been right and Aoshi's main objection had been a lack of perceived interest on Tsubame's part, he was quite, quite wrong. Misao had zero doubt as to her sister's genuine affection for Yahiko, and she intended to correct Aoshi on this point. Loudly. Preferably with something sharp and pointy in hand. And then followed by murder for one and tea after that.

But the gentleman in question must have sensed his impending doom, for he conveniently disappeared from London. The day after Colonel Fitzgerald's visit, Misao received a short letter from Aoshi informing her that business had most unexpectedly called him away from the city. Furiously, she balled the letter up and threw it in the fire, incised that her plans for revenge had been thwarted and the culprit had escape unscathed. In the ensuring weeks, sundry events unfolded that kept Misao occupied and wore away some of her ire, but a deep grudge lodged itself in her breast and refused to be dislodged. After Colonel Fitzgerald had left the house, all strangely warm feelings that had been growing inside Misao regarding Aoshi Darcy vanished, shoved aside violently by a mortal determination to hate him until the bitter end and never forgive him for his grievous sins against her sister.

Which is why Mr. Darcy's proposal to Misao came at a complete and utter shock.

Blinking her eyes several time as his words clanged violently around inside her head, Misao uttered with complete bewilderment and incredulousness, "I beg your pardon, sir, but what exactly did you just say?"

Aoshi Darcy's face was strangely animated as he stood in the Marchioness's elegant parlor, peering down his considerable height at Misao who was reclining on the divan, fighting madly to keep up her persona as a weak, sickly creature and doing a wholly terrible job of it. After three weeks of no communication whatsoever between the two, Aoshi had caught Misao completely off guard; one minute she had been lounging in the parlor, bored out of her mind, when the gentleman had appeared at the open door, unannounced and eyes filled with a strange concern and something she couldn't quite identify but sent her senses flaring up in alarm. Unaware that Aoshi had returned to London, Misao grimly bit back the sudden, overwhelming urge to throw the nearest heavy object at his head and forced herself to be calm and face him squarely.

Those blue eyes, normally icy and calm, were filled with a strange fire as Aoshi bowed (rather awkwardly, Misao thought) and began making anxious inquires about her health while staring at her intently. She did her best to respond as fitting someone reputed to be ill, but her visitor was more animated that Misao had ever seen before and that made keeping up her act inordinately difficult. As the seconds ticked away, the normally perfectly controlled gentleman was uncharacteristically agitated and seemingly could not decide if he should sit or stand nor determine quite what he wanted to do with his hands. Misao herself was swiftly pondering exactly how she wanted to accuse him of his great error and demand retribution – the perfectly planned, cunningly biting speech she had concocted over long weeks of careful consideration had suddenly fled her mind, and she was greatly agitated herself by the strange tremble fluttering in her belly.

As the painful seconds limped by with glacial slowness, several long ones of excruciating silence passed while both parties darted strange glances at each other and Aoshi continued to pace the room restlessly, alternating rapidly between sitting and standing every two seconds and taking up far more space in the parlor than he had a right to commandeer. Finally, he drew himself up and let loose a string of words Misao had never, ever expected that he would even consider uttering.

"I have struggled in vain to suppress my feelings, but I can do so no longer. I will give them voice," Aoshi began hurriedly but firmly, his fiery blue eyes boring into Misao's intently. Without further ado, he stated with simple, painful clarity, "I must, and I will, express how deeply I admire and love you."

Aoshi's words crashed against Misao's befuddled, astonished mind with all the force of a typhoon, and her brain clamored in alarm, striving weakly to deny the truth of what was just taking place but he gave her no pause to consider. Seemingly set upon a fixed path, he was plunging ahead, determined to continue this insensible madness and seemingly blind to her feelings on the matter.

His voice rolling with hitherto unknown emotion, Aoshi continued, his eyes flashing strangely and warmth stirring in his tones. "Miss Bennet, I well know the misfortunes your family has suffered as of late, and now this, to know that your health has become poor and word is spoken in the streets as to how serious your condition is..." He stopped for one moment, eyes never leaving her face, and Misao squirmed under his blazing glare, wishing frantically to be anywhere other than in the parlor.

To Misao's increased agitation, she watched in stupefying shock as the tall man lowered himself to a bended knee, his eyes gazing at her intently. "Although our situations are far removed from each other and I am painfully aware that any alliance between us will be seen by many as foolish at best and reprehensible at worse, I will not be dissuaded, ill-advised as it may be. Ms. Bennet, I beg you to become my wife so that I may care for your health and that your family may rise from its deprivations and..."

"Mr. Darcy!" Misao half-pleaded, half-screamed, rising from the divan with much more strength and speed than an ill person could reasonably muster. Aoshi clearly noted the action for he sprang to his feet, concern written on his face and reaching a hand out to steady her, but Misao jerked herself away from his touch and whirled around to face him, not caring if she was completely blowing her cover as an invalid.

With eyes flashing wildly, Misao felt fury trembling in her veins and she could hardly get the words out through her anger and shock. Calling upon all her training to speak rationally, she threw his words back in his face with barely controlled tones. "Mr. Darcy, I have never sought your regard nor your affection. Both come highly unsought, so my response will be brief. I do not nor never will accept your offer."

Frozen silence, louder than the clanging of bells fell over the room, the very temperature dropping like a stone in water. The warm, animated expression fled Aoshi's face to be replaced by his normal cool, controlled one but a cold anger settled over his frame as he returned her hard look evenly. After several agonizing moments, he spoke. "Then this short, uncivil answer is all I am to expect, Ms. Bennet?" he questioned icily, the corner of his mouth drawing up in anger.

Misao exhaled loudly, biting back the curse words begging to be set free, and answered sharply. "Can you honestly say, sir, that you expect a civil answer when your very words to me have been the opposite of civility? Do you truly believe that I would be compelled to accept you when you deemed a union between us ill-advised and foolish?"

Aoshi's eyes narrowed slightly, but Misao felt battle roaring in her veins and longed deeply to settle the score with a good knife fight. Currently the only weapons she had at her disposal were words, and these she threw liberally and pointedly. "Furthermore, and most importantly, I have no wish to unite myself with the person who was wholly responsible for ruining the happiness of a most beloved sister. I have every reason to hate you for what you have done." Misao's voice cracked slightly at the thought of Tsubame and for one horrid moment feared she would dissolve into tears.

Aoshi was silent for a moment, then responded quietly. "I do not deny that I did everything in my power to separate Yahiko from your sister, and I rejoiced in my success."

"And that is why I have every reason to reject you," Misao spat back, glaring at him with blazing eyes. "You have behaved in a most reprehensible manner towards my sister and have grieved her deeply."

He returned her glance coolly, but Misao could see wounded pride and anger quivering in the icy blue orbs. After a moment, he responded coldly, "And are there further sins you wish to heap upon my head, Ms. Bennet?"

"Yes," Misao pressed ahead, heedless of caution and determined only to wound and insult with whatever was at her disposal. "I have heard rumors, troubling rumors, that you frequent places that no gentleman should go and consort with people of low character and morals." Shut up Misao, shut up, shut up, you're going to blow your cover! her brain yelped frantically but Misao was in an advanced state of high emotion, reason and caution long since pushed aside, and wholly focused on cutting Aoshi down as soundly as she could.

The words struck hard, Misao could see it, and Aoshi could not disguise the surprise and something possibly like suspicion that raced across his countenance for a brief moment before he smoothed it aside for his normal controlled demeanor. Several more painfully quiet moments passed, and Misao was aware that she was breathing as if she had just finished a race. Aoshi stood like a stone, his hard eyes gazing at her, and his energy coiled and dark with emotion.

Finally, Aoshi spoke, his words harsh and acrid. "These are heavy charges you lay upon me, madam."

"Yes, I will lay them upon you, Mr. Darcy, and I will state this," Misao pronounced strongly, drawing her diminutive frame up as tall as she could. "You could not have made me an offer of your hand in any possible way that I would feel inclined to accept it. I know and have known since our first meeting that you are the last man on earth I could ever marry. Your pride, your arrogance, and your disdain for all those below you ensure that you will never have my regard."

A muscle twitched at the corner of Aoshi's mouth but he responded with quiet coldness. "Then I will not waste any more of your time, madam." Bowing frigidly, he opened his mouth, then continued in a marginally less frozen tones, "You are ill and I have agitated you with my unwanted affections. I apologize for disturbing you and I wish you all health and happiness. Good day."

With an abrupt yet still graceful gesture, Aoshi exited the room, closing the door and leaving a very agitated Misao behind. After a few seconds of bewildered blinking, she dissolved into a stormy fit of sobs, freely leaking tears all over the Marchioness' fine silk cushions and not caring who discovered her thus unbecalmed.

It was the Marchioness who surprised Misao in the thick of her torrent and to Misao's astonishment, the titled peer showed uncharacteristic kindness, or at least what passed for the Marchioness as kindness, which was handing Misao a fine linen handkerchief and calling for tea. Only when she had two cups of steaming Earl Grey and a slice of strawberry cake inside her did Misao finally gain tolerable control of herself again and attempt to come to mental grips with her second unwanted proposal in less than six months.

The Marchioness observed her keenly and when the peer determined that her protege had calmed herself sufficiently, demanded of her in tolerably kind tones, "Well, what on earth was all that fuss about, Misao?" Hiccuping a little and wiping away a few salty stragglers escaping from her eyes, Misao recounted her story while the Marchioness listened without interrupting.

At the close of the tale, the peer nodded sharply, something speculative in her eye. "Hmm, well I can't say I am entirely astonished at the news. I've seen how Darcy looks at you, girl, although I'm surprised he'd fall for someone of your rank..." The aristocrat trailed off, stirring her tea with precise movements of her wrist and looking at something in the far distance.

Finally she spoke again, "I saw Darcy leave the house as I came back from my visitations and seeing that he was mysteriously deaf to my hails, it appears he took your refusal to heart and was quite upset by it. I doubt you will be troubled by him again. Darcy has his pride and he is not accustomed to it being wounded."

Giving Misao a hard look, the Marchioness stated, "You seem to have a talent for turning down suitable matches. Aoshi is a fine gentleman with more money than he knows what to do with. As with Mr. Collins, I think you a fool for refusing either gentleman."

Misao sniffed and a fresh tear trickled down her face. The Marchioness watched, then let a rare smile (or something like it) rise to her lips. "Well, I suppose you had your good reasons in both cases. I would not worry too much about it, child," she said with slight gentleness. "You have whatever it is my nephew has in store for you to do, and I suspect it will take you far away from Darcy's presence and occupy you with other matters. This will all pass in time."

After another slice of strawberry cake, Misao felt a little better and was warmed by the unexpectedly kind words of the peer. Mercifully, the day passed swiftly, and Misao woke the next morning with the feeling that the other day had been merely a very, very bad dream. While recollections of it still troubled her greatly, she almost tranquil again as she stepped carefully out of the house after lunch, still in the guise of an ill person simply out for a little air and sunshine. To her complete surprise and alarm, Misao nearly ran smack into Aoshi who was approaching the door with his normal long strides.

Stifling a gasp of shock, Misao recoiled backwards violently, determined to slam the door shut and utilize any locks she could find to keep him from entering the house, but Aoshi put one hand up to halt her, his eyes almost begging her to stop.

"Ms. Bennet, I have no wish to intrude upon you. I only desire to answer the charges you laid against me yesterday," he said quietly. A letter was presented to her, of heavy card stock with the Darcy crest embossed on its creamy white side. Misao took it reluctantly as Aoshi continued. "All I ask of you is that you read this letter." With that, he bowed and quickly took his leave, his long frame striding easily into the crowded streets as she watched him go.

Misao had little desire to open the envelope in her fingers, let alone read its contents, but she could not push aside a slight curiosity as to what was inside. Back in her own room, she slit the envelope and removed the letter with fingers that trembled slightly. There was a single sheet, closely covered with rather messy lettering as if the writer had been too hasty to pen his sentences elegantly. As her eyes darted across the page, her furrowed brow deepened.

Madam,

Do not be alarmed that this letter contains a fresh renewal of the offer that was so distasteful to you yesterday. My only wish is to address the charges you laid at my feet so that you have full knowledge of what has transpired and that any misconceptions may be laid to rest. I beg of your attention and your good judgment in this matter.

You accused me of orchestrating the detachment of Yahiko Bingley from your sister, and I claim responsibility for that event. From the moment that I began to suspect Yahiko of developing feelings for your sister, I examined them both closely. Yahiko is dear to me and I regard him with all the affection of an elder brother for his younger counterpart. It is of supreme importance to me that Yahiko marries well and happily. However, after careful observation over many weeks, I did not see clear evidence that your sister bore anything but a general regard for Yahiko, even as rumors of their upcoming wedding began to circulate with alarming frequency. Indeed, I saw indifference in her actions and behavior, although Yahiko's feelings were quite apparent. In regards to your sister's level of affection for Yahiko, I defer to your judgment as you have a much better understanding of her personality and inclinations. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done. My only concern was for the well-being of my friend, and if I have erred it has been in over-zealousness.

In regards to your second charge against me, answering it is not as easily accomplished. Indeed, I am astonished that such rumors have reached your ears, and I have no one to fault but my own carelessness. What I have to say may seem very strange, if not shocking to your good senses. However, my faith in your discretion and wisdom compels me that I may safety uncover secret matters. Were I not wholly determined to explain my actions to you, I would not burden you with such heavy knowledge, and I beg your forgiveness for disclosing the following to you.

In short, the Darcys have a long, silent history of engaging in certain activities solely for the purpose of gathering information to ensure the safety and prosperity of England. This charge was laid upon me at birth, and I have not hesitated to discharge these duties as a Darcy. No more will I say to you and I fear that this brief explanation is dreadfully insufficient, likely generating more questions than it answers. But let me be thorough in explaining that the duties passed down from Darcy to Darcy are not always pleasant nor easy, and through my own carelessness, they have apparently generated rumors staining my character. Yet these duties are vital to the continued success of our country, and I will not shirk from them, as distasteful as they may be.

I am acutely aware that by writing this letter, I am effectively placing my life in your hands. I have uncovered a secret to you that few people know, and one word in the wrong ear could destroy all that I have worked for. Indeed, I nearly did not write the second part of this letter but although you have little regard for me, I place a high faith in your discretion and I cannot bear the thought that you would harbor deep suspicions about my character and moral standing. I have disclosed to you as much as I can in attempts to answer your second charge against me, but I greatly fear that I have done nothing but confuse your further and place a heavy knowledge upon you that may prove detrimental to your well-being.

I was not sufficiently in control of myself yesterday to answer your charges directly, and this letter is in attempts to do so. My only request is that when you have perused this letter thoroughly enough to ascertain its contents, that you burn it without delay. For your own safety and my duties as a Darcy, you must forget that I ever disclosed such knowledge to you and destroy this letter. Though my company is thoroughly distasteful to you, I would not place you in danger and I have full trust in your sense of justice that you will not expose anyone to potential harm, regardless of your feelings towards an individual.

Aoshi Darcy

Misao read the letter over and over again, her eyes boring holes in the paper as each word imprinted itself in her brain. Of the former part of the letter, she found little satisfaction: Aoshi had admitted potential misjudgment but there was scant sign of remorse in his words and that damned pride of his was clearly evident. Of the latter, she was at a loss of what to think. At once, her thoughts flew to the young Phantomhive lord and she wondered intently if Aoshi was somehow bound up in Ciel's pursuits. For one long moment, she pondered making a few discreet inquiries to discover if there was a link between the two.

But no. Misao's fist crushed around the letter. Much as she detested the person who had penned it, she was not malicious enough to wish him any harm. He had entrusted her with a great secret, confident enough in her judgment and character to trust her to keep it. It would be a very bad person to betray that confidence, and Misao was not one.

A quick flick of her wrist and the balled-up letter flew into the heart of the small fire warming the parlor. As flames eagerly licked at the ink-lined page, Misao watched it burn, eyes intent and stormy with thoughts.

Author's note: I'm toying with the idea of working some steampunk elements into this story, since I love steampunk and this story is set in Victorian England. Hmm, I will have to think about this. In the meantime, go look up the song "Just Glue Some Gears On It" on YouTube; I have been humming the refrain for days:

Just glue some gears on it and call it steampunk

That's the trendy fashion nowadays.

A copper-painted chunk of some 1980's junk

Will fetch a pretty penny on Ebay!