A/N: Yup, I've uploaded chapter 11, swiftly! -
Disclaimer: CLAMP owns CCS not me and this is my version of "Prince of Swords" by Anne Stuart.
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Josiah Clegg didn't appear to be that of a terrifying foe when observed up close. He was an ordinary-looking man, a bit vain, with a wide, thick-lipped mouth and a surprisingly pleasant smile, the kind of smile to inspire confidence.
Syaoran wasn't inspired. Nor was he particularly troubled by the appearance of a man who could be his nemesis. Apart from the interesting revelations he'd overheard beneath the Kinomoto's roof, the night had been far too uneventful.
"Qui' est-ce?" (Who are you?)he demanded in his passable French.
"Odd," said Clegg. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be one of these damned Frenchy émigrés. You don't have the face for it."
"Pourquoi?" (Why?) Syaoran said, looking vague.
"You don't look British, either," Clegg continued in a smug voice. "I'd say you look more like a Chinese brat by the look of you."
"Je ne comprends pas," (I don't understand) Syaoran murmured, about to run out of French phrases.
"Most people who are out at this hour are up to no good," Clegg went on, gazing at him thoughtfully. 'Including you' Syaoran thought. "I wouldn't be doing my duty if I didn't make certain you were on the up-and-up. Hold out your hands."
"Pardon?" (excuse me/What?)
"Your hands, man!" Clegg said impatiently, thrusting his own hands out in demonstration. They were thick, ham like hands, the nails lined with filth.
Syaoran immediately offered his hands. They were equally grimy from his sojourn over the rooftops, grimy enough to disguise his lack of calluses in the darkness of the night.
"You're not a weaver," Clegg said, more to himself. "You haven't got the hands for it. What do you do, live off your womenfolk?" The notion seemed, to amuse him.
"Je suis un voleur," (I'm a thief. A/N: I'm very not sure about that one) Syaoran murmured sweetly. "Je suis le Chat." (I'm... A/N: I give up, I don't know, sorry guys)
"Voleur, eh? What the hell is that?" Clegg demanded. "Let me give you a warning, my friend. This is my territory. Clegg's, you understand? If you haven't heard of me by now, you should have. I'm a dangerous man.
You have any interesting little sidelines, then you pay me to let you be. If you don't, you get hauled in before the Justice, and he doesn't like Frenchies any more than he likes criminals. I'm a little more broad-minded, if you get my drift.
I'm willing to look the other way this time." His thick London accent was deceptively affable. "That is, if you'll tell me what you were doing sniffing around that house back there. I have a personal interest in the young lady there. You think you're going to crawl between her legs and you'll find you don't have anything to put there. You've a pretty face and she probably likes it well enough, but I've got her staked out for me. You understand?"
Syaoran looked at him blankly, seething.
"Half-wit," Clegg said to himself. "Just keep away from them. You understand that much, don't you? I need to keep the young one on my side, but when I'm through with her, I'm going after the older one too, much more attractive and lady-like. And I won't take kindly to anyone who's been there ahead of me."
"Batard," (Bastard. A/N: ah…pretty much obvious ne?) Syaoran murmured politely, backing away from him.
"Yeah, batard to you too," Clegg muttered, dismissing him (A/N: or not, hehe) "Just-remember she's mine, Frenchy."
Syaoran had never killed a man. He knew how to use pistols and was exceptional with swords; he'd even fought the requisite number of polite duels. Usually he preferred to use his wits and his cunning, not brute force. But looking at Clegg, he found himself filled with a sudden longing to smash the man's teeth down his throat.
"Get out of here," Clegg said irritably. "Your idiot face is beginning to annoy me."
"Baisez mon cul" (A/N: Sorry I'm not sure what it means either, but I think he's insulting him, again.)he said, bowing low. And before Clegg could decide to come -closer, he disappeared into the shadows of the dark London night.
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"But, my dear Sakura, I had no idea you possessed such talents! You've been hiding your light under a bushel." Sakura stared at Miss Petrina Stebbin's pale, puglike face with ill-concealed dismay.
She would have been much happier if she had been able to hide her entire self under a bushel. At least Mama was still abed, suffering from the megrims and a surfeit of ratafia, and wasn't there to witness the reentry of one of Sakura's childhood acquaintances into their lives.
Petrina had never been more than that. She had always been an unpleasant child, holding herself remote from the ramshackle Kinomotos. Mr. Kinomoto's descent into poverty and death had set the seal on her disapproval, and the last time Sakura had crossed her path, Petrina had given her the cut direct.
Not today, however. Petrina was all fat smiles and oozing charm, murmuring remembrances of a shared past which, in truth, they hadn't shared at all. To be sure, they had both attended the Christmas routs at Lady Shirley's estate.
But Petrina had been with her group, Sakura with hers.
"They say you have an extraordinary gift," Petrina continued. "I can't say that I'm surprised. You always seemed a bit different from the rest of us. It must be those lovely eyes."
Sakura kept a pleasant expression on her face as she listened to these bald-faced lies. Petrina must have learned tact during the last few years. She had always made spiteful comments about Sakura's witch's eyes.
Sakura herself wasn't feeling particularly diplomatic.
"Who says I have an extraordinary gift?"
Petrina blinked. "Why, everyone. Everyone that matters, that is. You're quite the crest ofsociety. Everyone wants you at their parties; everyone is dying to know more about you."
"Including you?" Sakura said composedly.
Petrina may have learned tact, but sensitivity still eluded her.
"I thought you might like to come to a small house-party my married sister is holding out in Kent. I'm certain you remember Harriet - she married Mr. Wilson, who was quite a catch, as I'm sure you realize.
There will be just a dozen or so guests, and it should all be quite remarkable. I imagine it's been quite a while since you've been in the country. You were always such a charmingly rural soul."
"Quite a while," Sakura echoed. "But I'm afraid I must decline your so-charming invitation. My mother isn't at all well, and I couldn't leave Tomoyo without adequate protection. "
"Surely the servants could look after your mother," Petrina protested, patently ignoring the fact that she had seen no sign of servants during her damnably long visit that afternoon.
"And you could bring Tomoyo with you. I remember her well- such a pretty child. I'm certain we'll find other children to entertain her."
Sakura looked at her childhood nemesis. "Let us be frank, Petrina. You are not inviting me to your sister's house party for the pleasure of my company. You wish me to entertain the guests with parlor tricks, do you not? Reading their cards, telling their fortunes?".
"It's no less than you have done for Lady Akisuki, if rumor can be relied upon."
"Let me give you a little hint, Petrina. Never believe rumors. How I choose to use my talents and for what rewards is simply none of your business."
"My sister said I was to offer you fifty pounds."
Sakura didn't even blink. Petrina's sister Harriet had married a nabob, and she'd obviously lost track of things she could spend her money on. Fifty pounds was a very great deal of money.
Almost tempting. "I'm sorry," Sakura said. "I have my reputation to consider, and Tomoyo's as well."
"One hundred pounds, and you and Tomoyo shall be honored guests," Petrina said hastily.
"I doubt your other guests will view us as such."
"Don't be so starchy, Sakura," Petrina said in an irritable voice that sounded much more natural than her forced amiability. "Your lineage is impeccable, even if your father was a wastrel. Lack of money, while to be deplored, shouldn't put you beyond the pale. Besides, there will be any number of eligible partis.
You're not as charming as I am, but you're not necessarily at your last prayers, you're a tad bit younger than me. If you were lucky, you could manage to attract a gentleman of independent means and secure your future. Perhaps an inventor, poet, or artisan."
Petrina was 25 years old, six years older than Sakura, but Sakura was tactful enough not to mention that fact.
The offer, fraught as it was with disaster, held too many possibilities to be dismissed out of hand. At the rate she was going, it would be another year before Tomoyo could make her debut. A year of living on the edge of unpleasantness's, a year of isolation and potential danger.
A year where anything could happen, where temptation would be fatal. She needed to make her escape, to settle her family and then fade into graceful retirement, away from Clegg, away from the city.
Far away from the disturbing Earl of Xian Lang.
"What do you say?" Petrina persisted.
Sakura closed her eyes for a moment, letting her mind run free, open, seeking. The card that formed in front of her mind's eye was immediate and gratifying. The Hope.
It would be well.
She opened her eyes to survey her former acquaintance's avid face. "Tomoyo and I will accept your gracious invitation," she said smoothly. "It's been too long since we've had the pleasure of a house party in the country.
And we will be more than happy to add what small entertainment we can offer. Tomoyo has quite a gift with her paints, and musical tones, they're all quite divine; and I have no aversion to a playful reading of the cards to while away the tithe."
"A wise choice," Petrina said. "My sister's banker will draw you a draft on her account -"
"No," Sakura said. "We will come only if this is a social invitation, between friends, and not a financial transaction."
"You don't receive money for what you do?" Petrina asked bluntly.
To admit that she did would put her on the level of dressmakers and shopkeepers. To lie would be even worse.
"I do what I deem necessary, Petrina," she said sweetly.
"Your companionship and hospitality will be ample reward."
Petrina looked as if she'd rather be a companion to a snake, but she pursed her plump lips into a sour smile. "I imagine you'll need transportation. My sister would be more than happy to send her carriage for you on Wednesday next…"
"That would be lovely."
Petrina glanced down at Sakura's plain, unfashionable dress.
"I trust you'll be better dressed?"
Typical of Petrina, Sakura thought wearily. Once she'd gotten her way, her overbearing nature came forth. In response she simply smiled. "I'm looking forward to the house party, Petri."
Petrina hated being called Petri. Particularly since her obnoxious boy cousins had always referred to her as Petri-ugly Ogre.
Up until then Sakura had resisted the impulse to use the nickname, but there was something in Petrina's smug blue eyes that brought out the worst in her.
Petrina rose majestically. "And you needn't worry about highwaymen and the like. My sister has made special arrangements for the Bow Street runners to provide protection. The Wolf himself wouldn't dare make an appearance!"
"The Wolf?" Sakura echoed with perfect innocence.
"Oh, that's right, you've been out of society for so long, you probably haven't even heard, of him. He's a most daring and remorseless thief. He steals his way into the finest houses in the city and relieves the owners of their jewels.
Sometimes he commits his wicked deeds when the houses are deserted; sometimes he has the effrontery to rob when the house is ablaze with a party. No one quite knows how he does it. He's as sneaky and silent as the shadows, a coldhearted wolf thief." Petrina's small eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.
"I thought you were at Lady Akisuki's when one such a robbery occurred?" she said sharply.
"Perhaps I was. No one bothered to inform me of it," she lied blithely.
"I should think not. It could hardly be your concern," Petrina said with a sniff. She rose and bestowed a gracious kiss on the unwilling cheek of Sakura. "If there's a problem with your wardrobe, let me know and I'll see if I can contrive something. I wouldn't want you to shame my sister."
Sakura stumbled, treading sharply on Petrina's instep then fell back.
"I beg your pardon, Petri," she said with breathless innocence. "I am so clumsy on occasion."
Petrina allowed herself the luxury of a glare. "Till next week. "
Sakura nodded and proceeded to accompany Miss Stebbins to the door.
"I can't imagine where the servants could have gone to," she said vaguely.
Petrina cast a suspicious look around the place. If she suspected the impoverished Kinomoto's couldn't afford so much as a daily maid, her horror would be complete, and the social offer might be rescinded.
Petrina's carriage waited outside the Kinomoto's front door, the liveried coachman guarding it from the curious denizens
of Tomoeda. Sakura stood in the open doorway until it pulled away, then slowly shut the door and leaned against it.
She had probably made a very grave mistake. Her plans were well and carefully made: once she amassed a certain amount of money from her work with the despised Clegg, she could afford to move to better quarters and manage a small, discreet launch into society for her dear Tomoyo.
Once she contracted a reasonable marriage, the future would be assured.
Sakura had learned to make do on very little indeed. Tomoyo didn't need to attract a Croesus - any decently landed gentleman with a kind soul would do.
But this was dangerous indeed. There was no guarantee that any eligible parti would be present at Harriet Wilson's house party, and if the Kinomoto sisters appeared and then disappeared, questions would be asked.
She would have to take some of the carefully hoarded money and make new clothes for Tomoyo, not to mention something decent and discreet for herself. Sonomi still had her extensive wardrobe, however, and there might very well be gowns that could be modified, modernized, cut down to fit Sakura's smaller figure.
It would also make her identity clear. The Gypsy fortune-teller would be unmasked, and certain sticklers might not approve of such a creature for a sister-in-law.
Still, it was a risk she had to take. Josiah Clegg was beginning to frighten her. She'd always been uneasy around him, though she'd lessened her misgivings by assuring herself she was helping the almost lost cause of law and order in the wretched streets of London.
But lately she could no longer believe that, or believe that Clegg cared one whit for justice. He wanted his thief-taker's
share, and it didn't matter to him if it came from the neck of a hardened criminal or an innocent child.
She could help him this one last time. She could enable him to trap the notorious Wolf, and then she could call it quits.
A criminal of such daring would doubtless be worth a generous portion. She could even disdain her own share of it if Clegg would abandon his hold on her.
It seemed reasonable enough, and yet she knew it wasn't.
The answer lay in her cards, and she was afraid to read them.
Afraid to ask the questions that would place her in an impossible situation.
The Wolf was the least of her worries, she reminded herself firmly. The elegant Earl of Xian Lang was similarly only a troubling distraction. With any luck he had already forgotten her very existence, and if she just managed to avoid crossing paths with him, she would be fine.
It was her family that worried her. She needed to get Tomoyo safely and wealthily wed to a decent man who'd accept his responsibilities, including a difficult mother-in law.
And then Tomoyo would be safe. The house party, despite its dangers, could provide the start of a new, more acceptable life for all of them.
It was a chance she had to take. And even if it all came to naught, and they came away from the house party further impoverished with their reputations questionable, she couldn't regret the chance to get out of the stink and filth of London.
But she couldn't help but wonder if the Earl of Xian Lang was one of Harriet Wilson's invited guests.
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A/N: I surprised you all with this fast update didn't I? In less than 5 days, wow I even surprise myself sometimes. hehe. I'm proud of myself. (could it be that I got an 'A' in my chemistry test? My 100 percent brightened the rest of my day, yeah! happy dance but sadly I still have a 'C' --, crys for her mommy ) I'm just happy right now that I'm updating.
Okay...About the French translations, I basically just interpreted them as I could, because I don't know French. But I would love to! So if anyone out there knows French, could you contact me, please? thank you.
And now for my grate thanks to those who reviewed
Black Wolf Chic 2: Wow, thanks for your review, it was so quick! Faster than my update. hahaha
Alpha2Omega: Arigatou for reviewing my eager reader, hehe
MizUnapprochable: Thank you for reviewing! Don't' worry, I appreciate your review, doesn't matter how long it is, but that you review, that you let me know what you think of the story,
SweetMelancholy Gracias for your review and for reading the story. Right now I'm just making very slight changes to the book, but it'll change a bit after quite a few more chapters.
Quote: "There is a light at the end of the tunel...just pray it's not a train!"
Well that's all for today
Ja
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here are the french translations i wasn't sure of:
"Je suis un voleur" ("I am a thief")
"Je suis le chat" ("I am the cat")
"Baisez mon cul" ("Kiss my arse")
thanks to my good friend Alpha2Omega
and Aenaisaigo no Tenshi