Clara slipped down the dark alleyway and up to the black door with the large knocker, it was midnight and the moonlight flitted against the brass. Clara pushed the door gently forward and locked it behind her, taking a breath she slowly climbed the stairs into the dark apartment, feeling unease at how she felt like an interloper in this small but grand place that she now called her temporary home. Only one light was on in the lodging, the study was at the end of the hall and a gentle light peered into the hall from the slightly open door. Clara peered through the gap in the door, he was writing at a heavily ornate desk with brass inlays with a fountain pen, making faint scratching noises. Clara pushed the door open deliberately, the creak announcing her entrance. Darvell appeared slightly startled and leapt to his feet, and gave a slight bow, "Miss Webb, my sincerest apologies, I did not hear you come in", Clara stifled a smile at the formality "I can't remember the last time a man stood and bowed when I entered a room. And please… my name is Clara, if we are to live together, I don't believe present society would indicate calling me 'Miss Webb', that would be 'odd'". Darvell smiled gently "I am sorry, I did not mean to intone a coldness or ill feeling, the manner of my upbringing, proves difficult to shake…how was your walk?" Darvell shifted on the balls of his feet and resheathed his fountain pen, diverting all of his attention to Clara.
Clara smiled again and noted a tinge of embarrassment in his face, Clara attempted to soften her expression "The walk was lovely, the wind is cold here, I have never been here but it feels familiar, which I found diverting and enjoyable, I didn't mean to disturb you… and I don't much mind your manners, I'm not used to such attentiveness, I never have been". Darvel looked down at his feet and then back to her again "I am sorry to hear that, a lady should always be treated with civility and gentle manners, you can at least be assured that whilst lodging with myself, you will be treated with the utmost respect and forbearance, would you care to join me? I have wine". Clara strode over to him laughing, choosing a comfortable chair near the fire she uncorked the wine and poured out a generous amount for herself "well, why didn't you open with that, so... what would you like to talk about? What is it you were writing? Where you writing to a sweetheart?", Darvell sat opposite and immediately appeared to brood "I've never had a sweetheart, I consider myself an old and very much damned man. I was writing my diaries, my memory feels...thin? There are certain details I care to remember with some lucidity, writing them down seems to work for a time". Clara swigged the wine back and smiled at him "you are so easily prone to brooding and ill-humour, what a pair you and my daughter would make! The way I see it is this, if I don't remember something exactly, it wasn't worth rememberin' in the first place! There is a great deal I would pay good money to forget. No, No...Darvell let us talk of something nice, which era do you miss the most, ... which activity do you miss the most? For me this is easy... dancing! It has lost all meaning in today's society", Darvell was mystified by this woman, so full of anger and pain yet so jovial and happy when living in the moment. "hmm", Darvel ventured, pouring himself some of the wine, "I do miss the quietness of the country, even the countryside feels fast-paced in this day and age... all very well connected... England feels very small to me now. Oh but you wanted an activity, very well, I miss seafaring", Darvell paused before continuing "I left the Navy when I chose this life, I was to be a lieutenant during that fateful summer, if my health would have allowed it. I purchased my living and I did not get to live it, I felt alive on the open sea, I haven't felt alive in god knows how long". Clara leant forward and Darvell's eyes fell upon her "is this why you still choose to live near the sea Darvell? I have fond memories of the sea as well, my father was a seaman, not a Naval officer such as yourself, he worked below deck, died at war, that's how I came to pick cockles on Pelham Beach. Ordinarily, I would have ended up in London, in an asylum, but I stayed on in Hollington, under the watchful eye of St Rumbold's Church...Wow, I'm surprised I remember the name of the parish, I'm sure it isn't named that now", Clara drifted off "... it is nice to share a comfort in the sea at least", Clara's comment was offhand but sincere, Darvell continued to study her.
"Is Darvell your first or your last name?", Clara asked suddenly, Darvell laughed, "My family name, but I've only ever answered to Darvell, I haven't heard my given name muttered aloud in some two hundred years at least. My given name was Isaac, but you can call me what you wish". Clara laughed out loud "That would take some getting used to, still at least it isn't Augustus, imagine if your mother named you for a Lord Byron characterisation, the Irony that the character is from a vampire novella cannot have escaped you", Darvel chuckled "Alas, how could it! Albeit there are not many alive now who could reference the tale", he continued to sip his wine. The clock chimed 1 am.
"I stole this life" Clara spoke up again "I was dying, I saw my chance and I took it, I know you do not believe I deserve it, but I have earned my right to survive". Darvel smiled devilishly at her "you didn't see your chance, this was of course the plan the start. I anticipated you would murder Ruthven, unfortunately you merely wounded him. I would not have permitted you to stay in that room, to spy the map if I did not fully intend that you make use of it. Unfortunately, the Brethren would not have permitted me to simply give it to you. I saw that you were gravely ill, I felt responsible, guilty, you made a choice but I damned your soul the moment I watched Ruthven leave with you on that beach, I damned your human life. I have these long years searched for you as part of the Brethren, to make amends. I have long since relinquished any right to forgiveness from any higher power, it is only your pardon I seek. I am a different man now, to the man I was then, I hope that in time you will recognise that".
Clara sat back and let the glass slip out of her hand onto the floor unable to hide her shock and allowing her facade of confidence to slip. "I... I don't know what to say, why did you not speak for me?", Darvell's voice was low and gravelly, heavy with remorse, "I did speak on your behalf Clara... many, many times...heavens, you did not help yourself, you had a crusade to topple the power of men. The Brethren are misogynistic and power-hungry. The oldest of the order was an instigator of witch trials during the middle ages, a true hater of women... the Brethren understand your power more than most. To have a woman inherit that which was theirs, it scared them. It scares them still. They will continue to hunt you and they will not stop". Darvell sat forwards, his face closer, Clara could almost feel his breath and felt her breath hitch in her throat, he had always been an attractive man. "I plan to hunt them, Clara, I have been surveilling the elders for some time, this is the only true way to ensure your survival... and Eleanor's survival. This has always been my plan...acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt." Clare reached out and took his hands in hers, "That is our plan Isaac and we are not mere mortals".