Each training session was long and it was brutal. Ciel was a tyrant both when it came to running military drills and when teaching one how to properly hold their fork. Many of them didn't know that so many different types of cutlery even existed, so memorising the differences between different types of forks and spoons was immensely difficult. For others, however, it was a walk in the park. Dafydd had grown up with this sort of thing, so he left the lecture feeling confident in his abilities to continue, while Caroline Lexington lived most of his life as a maid, so he had at least some knowledge in table-setting and what each utensil was for. Falchion, however, followed his nature and tried his best to help others when they took to practising, mostly trying to figure things out alongside Mister Blackwell, who was sitting next to him.
Neither of them had any prior knowledge and made mistakes, but weren't harshly scolded by the Earl like the Devildogs and Dafydd were. He kept his corrections calm, as he knew they weren't expecting him to behave that way from him and moreover, he didn't know if they could take that sort of abuse. Lord Phantomhive overall preferred not to act boorishly toward those who it was inappropriate to, especially since this was indeed an etiquette lecture and it was important to lead by example. He never raised his voice to anyone that evening, but there was still a marked difference in how he treated different guests. Dafydd, for example, didn't even get the comradery he displayed with his former underlings. Ciel was curt with him in a particular way that indicated that he did not care for the warlock much, although Dafydd didn't really notice.
Overall, they went home that night knowing a lot more about table manners than they did before and they were encouraged to take a printed off chart with them and practise on their own time, because at the end, there would be a test over everything and they would need to display their skills in a real life scenario in front of their judge. If they were not up to snuff, then Renee would surely dismiss them outright.
Twice a week, they had these lessons and during the next course, the Phantomhive started things off by quizzing them on what they knew. Then, when some of them felt thoroughly defeated after having not quite getting it, the Watchdog calmly and briefly went through a few areas that the group seemed to struggle on. After making them feel a bit better and like they could somehow manage it, Ciel was prepared to move on and start the next lecture, only for Mister Carl Henderson, his favourite student, to raise his hand.
"I understand that the Mademoiselle is a fancy lady, alright, but is going over how to eat really necessary?" he questioned. "I know we need to know it, but shouldn't we cover how to actually, y'know, get her to like us, first?"
"Interesting point, Mister Henderson. That does seem logical, but I did not force you to learn such seemingly trivial details right off the bat for no reason." replied the Earl, gesturing with his hand. "These rules of etiquette are essential to wooing a stickler for ceremony like Mademoiselle Lapointe. While they seem excessive to you, to her, they're ordinary manners. Why, during my human days, it was unseemly to do something as simple as dipping one's bread into one's stew. I did it anyway, of course, but only in the privacy of my own home out of sight of guests, but it is akin to placing one's elbows on the table or chewing with one's mouth open. Manners are subjective and can change with time or place. On that note, I would like to begin our lecture on a subject that I'm sure that you are all eager to know about, given that it has been romanticised by the media for a very long time: Chivalry."
That got some of their attention. Really, all of them were interested, as Ciel was indeed right. The word conjured up images of knights and of ladies—of heroism and of honour. It was the sort of thing that made a man hold his head up high, confident in his stature and his social standing. It was the sort of thing that many of them admired about him and wished to emulate and obtain for themselves. A chivalrous man was a proper man—a real man who other men respected and women wished to partner with.
"Now, chivalry is not just holding doors open and pushing in chairs. No, 'chivalry' is a concept that has changed many times over the years and is still changing." Pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back, the Watchdog began to explain. "Now, I can teach you what would be expected of a gentleman during my time and during the mademoiselle's time, but should you not be chosen, that will not do you much good if you try to pursue another woman—or man, or… some other variation thereupon, I suppose." He paused to rub his chin, dwelling on that for a moment before continuing. "First, I will go over what I feel are the most obvious principals that are absolutely relevant today. It is important to take note of them, so please feel free to take notes."
There was a rustling and a groaning of chairs loudly scooting back along the floor as many in the group reached underneath the table to pull out their writing utensils. Some like Carl and Dafydd stayed put, but the table was now lined with notebooks—some spiral, some composition, and some otherwise—and pencil cases in an array of shapes, sizes, and designs.
A chuckle escaped Mister Blackwell as he carefully set down his case in front of him and pulled out a pen. "I have a feeling I'm about to understand how my students feel. There's something sort of nostalgic about school supplies, isn't there?" he asked his compatriots with a warm smile.
"Is your pencil case shaped like a coffin?" questioned Caroline with an arched eyebrow.
"That's pretty impressive, actually." Falchion remarked.
"Is that gentlemanly?" inquired Wallace, looking up at the Earl while pointing at the container. Dignified as always, the bluenette replied:
"It has a sleek, classical, design, so I feel as though it could be considered 'bespoke.' We'll cover that sort of thing at a later date."
Clapping his hands together, the Watchdog gathered the others attention once again and refocused the group. "Now, the first basic principle is to value oneself; if you cannot find merit in yourself, then how is anyone supposed to do the same? This involves recognising your strengths and positive traits. If you perceive yourself as being of poor quality, then you will act poorly and subsequently be poorly."
"Simple enough." chuckled Dafydd, resting his cheek on the back of his palm and his elbow on the table. It was the only thing on the table in front of him, as he didn't even bring a journal to take notes in. "I know what I'm worth. That's why I don't settle."
"But you do, in a way, as indicated by how you relentlessly flirted with my husband despite his repeated rebuffals." Ciel indicated, holding up a finger. "While I'm more than aware of how much of a catch he is, you chose to pursue someone who was already in a relationship instead of choosing to pursue someone who was actually available, thus depriving you of an unknowable amount of opportunities with another, more suitable partner. Even now, you're repeating the same mistake with Renee."
"It's not a mistake. I'm here to prove myself. Besides, I already tried the whole bit where I found someone else, and all that got me was a broken heart." sighed the warlock, leaning back in his chair.
"We'll get to that in a bit, actually, but for now, let us continue with this train of thought." indicated the bluenette, causing his skeptical heckler to roll his eyes. "While you must pursue only those who are viable options; i.e. not currently in a relationship, are within an appropriate age range for your species, and so forth, it is simultaneously inappropriate to try and flirt with every single woman—or man—that comes your way." With a rather sweet smile, the Earl tilted his head and spoke with a biting coldness in his voice. "Have some dignity."
"So he can smile like that…" thought his former troops. "Still scary, though…"
Dafydd furrowed his brow at the gesture and turned his head away with a scoff. The comment wasn't entirely directed at him, but he did not appreciate being mentioned so close together with it.
The idea, as Ciel would explain, was the idea of being stretched too thin. One could not properly devote one's attention or affections to any one person if one was pursuing many. Furthermore, it was quite frankly insulting towards the target. Instead of making the other person feel special, such a gesture would make them feel cheap. Instead of feeling like they're the only one in the world one has eyes for, the impression that one would give off is that one is merely settling.
Furthermore, it was insulting to attempt to woo a person who was already taken. It was a blemish on the would-be suitor's character, and an attempted besmirching on the claimed party's. Ciel knew for a fact that Jim did not appreciate Dayfdd's flirting in part because he wasn't interested, but also simply because it was extremely insulting to be assumed to be the sort of person who would cheat on his partner. Truly, it was a poor reflection of how one valued oneself and how they valued others, as was the mark of a true gentleman.
Valuing others and making them feel special and cared for was proper. The thing that separated the modern gentleman from any old bloke one may encounter on the street, was not status, wealth, or any such material monikers of sophistication, but rather, one's behaviour toward others. Being high-born does not mean that one treats others well, nor does being a commoner mean that one treats others poorly. It is a personal code of ethics that dictates how to properly care for others. Ciel personally found it useful to have a set of rules back when he was a bit more clumsy in his attempts to romance the blonde menace, but it appears to have gotten him somewhere, so he was sure that he knew what he was talking about.
"A popular subject in traditional chivalry—as in the sort one would see depicted in medieval stories about knights and the like—is the concept of the exhalted lady." Began the Watchdog once more, "One must treat the woman they are in love with with reverence—like she is special and precious. In the case of Mademoiselle Lapointe, she will expect and appreciate certain gestures such as opening doors for her, walking on the side of the pavement that faces the street, and carrying her bags for her when you're out and about together. Yes, that means carrying her purse. I understand that modern men may jeer at the idea and worry at what other men may think, but in reality, it is just a bag. It is very obvious that her purse does not belong to you. So this may be something you may have to get over, depending how important she finds this specific gesture."
"That's easy for you to say. Your husband doesn't have a purse." remarked mister Henderson, causing Wallace to chuckle while sitting next to him. Very quickly, however, Wallace caught himself.
"Sorry, sir." he said, but the Phantomhive wasn't bothered.
"It's quite alright. He does have a point. My husband's taste in bags is generally more masculine, even though it can be a little less bespoke than my preferences, at times. I, for one, am not very keen on backpacks, but to each their own. I still hold his bags for him when he asks, although he generally doesn't, but a purse envokes a certain kind of ridicule from other men, doesn't it? It is indeed a little unfair for my to preach something that I hardly practise. Still, when I go places with my cousin, Elizabeth, I'm not bothered if I need to carry her purse or help her carry purchases from a very obviously feminine store. Had the person I fallen in love with been female, the idea doesn't make me uncomfortable. Although, should any man who may see me take issue, I suppose the eyepatch is a good deterrent for their remarks." Ciel smiled at his own little jest at the end, there, while pointing at his face.
"That said, as a man in a same-sex relationship who tends to venture out in public with my husband from time to time, I'm no stranger to other people making impolite comments." he continued, a bit more seriously. "Ordinarily, I simply ignore them. I'm confident in my masculinity, so when other men feel the need to make disparaging remarks or express their doubts about it, I understand that they do so simply because they themselves are not. The issue never was me, really, but rather, the other person projecting their doubts onto me. That said, there are times when a comment is made that crosses a certain line: predominately because they made a crude remark about my husband. He often receives the worst of it, for whatever reason, so in that moment, it is up to use to decide who is going to defend his honour. Many times, it will be him. He's strong and I am confident in his ability to handle confrontation, so I merely act as support in those cases. At other times, I will take on the duty myself and do so gladly. Should the abuse be directed at me, he—almost gleefully—does the same. Now, for those seeking women, it will more than likely be you who is doing the defending, whether of yourself or of your beloved, but it is important to know when to step back and give your partner the opportunity to handle themselves. You must be ready to jump in and give backup whenever she may need it, however, so be prepared and alert."
"I had an ex-girlfriend once who said I didn't defend her." offered Solomon, raising his hand. "She said I never defended her from my friends when they talked down to her, but I was just trying to keep the peace, y'know? Would that count?"
"It may. It could be your friends or even your own mother you may need to defend your partner from. Critique is healthy and a bit of ribbing now and again is fine, but if it's crossing the line into abuse or harassment, it is certainly time to be her knight." Placing his hands on his hips, the Watchdog looked up momentarily. "One of the more stranger things that I've found is that after being in a relationship for a while, I've found myself able to know just from Jim giving me a look, so time may be a factor as well, as you get to know your partner, specifically."
Looking back at the group, he folded his arms. "That sort of plays into the concept of The Exalted Lady. These manners will not appeal to every single person you court or date, and it will take some getting to know the other person to figure out what they do and do not like. A lot of men will take the idea of 'being chivalrous' and apply it the same way to every woman they intend to date and then be astonished when not all women are receptive. Men like these will do this with other things, too, and then act as though they simply 'don't understand' women, as if they're some sort of collective hive mind or are simply interchangable. Everyone has their own tastes and preferences about this sort of thing, and finding out what is appreciated and what isn't is simply a part of getting to know someone."
To Ciel, all of this advice was now obvious, but there was in fact a time when he, himself, needed it. Knowing might have saved him an argument or a misunderstanding or two. While he still believed that his husband having a status symbol here and there was a positive thing, for example, he now understood that Jim did not understand or particularly value it in the same way, so gifting him an expensive watch, for example, was fairly useless at best, and came across as insulting at worst. Even now, it was sometimes difficult to keep track of all of these little nuances about his beau, but it was all worth it, really. Being in Jim's good graces was one of the best feelings in the world.
Manner after manner and exception after exception was explained to his audience, but the Watchdog knew that it was a lot to keep up with and that talking about them and putting them into practise were another entirely. Still, as long as they got the basic gist of the essentials, they should do fine, even if it wasn't with the mademoiselle.
Learning to make space for another person in one's life and how to interact with them was a process, after all. One couldn't be selfish when it came to love, but also not completely self-sacrificing. There was a healthy medium, somewhere, and somehow, Ciel of all people felt confident that he had found it.
"Don't hold open the door because it is what you are 'supposed' to do." he stated. "It isn't about what you're 'supposed' to do, in reality. It's about wanting to make the little things easier for the person you care about so that they don't have to deal with them. You can apply that principle to many things outside of the normal subset of 'gentlemanly manners,' so it is important to understand the fundamental value underneath the action, instead of simply memorising a short laundry list of chores. It's the thought that counts, and if you're only doing things because you feel like you have to and you're only doing the bare minimum, then you aren't really thinking about it. Be considerate of your partner and your partner should in turn be considerate of you. If they aren't, then perhaps it is time to move on."
Indeed, despite not considering himself to be a gentleman, Jim knew how to be more than considerate of the Earl in ways that most who advertised themselves as such would fail to consider. Jim was aware of major work events for Ciel, despite not needing to, and he often assisted around times when things were busy. He was a godsend around Christmas time, really. He would bring Ciel tea when he thought he might need some. Yes, Jim picked up on little details, just like Ciel did—including ones that Ciel himself didn't notice. At times when Ciel was particularly tense, Jim would notice the slow progression of Ciel's posture stiffening as days went by and offer to rub his shoulders and back.
Truly, the menace was an expert in making Ciel relax. He knew when he needed to be the big spoon or when Ciel needed to be the one to lean his head on his chest while cuddling. In fact, the Watchdog was taking more naps these days than he ever had, simply due to his newfound ability to feel comfortable and relaxed while being unguarded. If he ever dozed off before he was able to remove his eyepatch, Jim would carefully untie it, as to not wake him, and set it out to the side so he could rest comfortably. Quite frankly, it all sounded rather appealing to Ciel in that moment, although he did not profess the thought to his "students." He sincerely entertained the possibility of seeing if Jim felt up to "spoiling" him for a bit, as the menace put it. Maybe it was being "spoiled," but Ciel didn't care. There was a time when he was weak enough to believe that this sort of thing was indeed a threat to his masculinity and reputation as an evildoer, but even evildoers liked having their beloved play with their hair and whisper pleasant things to them, and Ciel was alright with admitting that, now.
Overall, this was perhaps the easiest days in the course, as it only involved listening to a lecture and discussing abstract concepts. The rest involved the men actually doing things, like learning how to put together a suit and how to talk to a tailor, how to organise and plan dates, how to write letters, how to walk, talk, and behave—all that sort of thing. Perhaps the hardest one, however, was learning how to dance. Ciel himself had been wondering how to go about teaching this one, as there were only men here, and all of them were seeking women. Finding suitable dance partners to stand in was difficult, to say the least.
Elizabeth was on board with stepping in, but that was only one volunteer for eight people. The Garous might have agreed, but Ciel knew better than to allow Amelie seeing another person dancing with her wife. Patricia was in Spain with her new husband. Miss Seras Victoria had her own duties to attend to, as well. Ciel wracked his brain, trying to figure out who all he could turn to, but no one really came to mind. He highly doubted that any of them would feel comfortable if he stepped in, himself, and the same went for his husband, although mostly due to his relation to the Earl.
"Now, today, you will be learning to dance, but as you can see, despite my best efforts, we simply don't have enough people for everyone to be able to learn the male part for the entire duration of these next few lessons." Ciel explained as the group stood in the ballroom, freezing as the massive room began to warm up. Electricity and heat were never really applied to this part of the house unless it was in use, so although a beautiful room, it was a bit miserable for a while. "Luckily, my cousin, Elizabeth, has agreed to help by dancing with some of you, but as for the rest of you gentlemen, you're going to have to take turns dancing the female part."
"Oh, come on!" gawked Gordon while a few of the others groaned, but for the most part, the group was unfased—especially the supernaturals in the group. Solomon was surrounded by women who were more masculine than him everyday, so he had grown somewhat accustomed to putting his ego aside, in this way, even if he wasn't too thrilled about the idea. Meanwhile, Mister Blackwell actually seemed excited about the venture.
"Oh, come now, it won't be that bad." he said, clasping his hands together. "Dancing is fun! That's all that matters, really, so as long as we have a good time, the lesson will fly by!"
"So says the guy with long hair, makeup, and painted nails…" Carl sighed with a slouch, prompting the teacher to arch an eyebrow.
"Is their something wrong with having black fingernails, Mister Henderson?" inquired Ciel, holding up his own hand with a smile. Carl's eyes immediately landed on the blackened fingernails of the demon and straightened his posture.
"No, sir! Sorry, Sir…" Pausing, Carl noticed that the expression on Ciel's face wasn't disappearing, only for his brows to raise in realisation. Turning to the schoolteacher, he added: "Sorry, Richmond…"
"I gladly accept your apology, Carl." Mister Blackwell replied, patting his reluctant compatriot on the shoulder.
Taking the lull in the conversation that followed as an opportunity to speak, Falchion raised his hand. He was a strange-looking man that looked very much like a cartoon devil with his red skin, horns, and hair that was somehow shaped into what looked like a second pair of horns on his head. Yet, he dressed rather plainly in knitted jumpers and a tie, completely controdicting his physical appearance. Even when standing next to the purple Caroline Lexington of the same species, he seemed to stand out.
"I can play the woman first." he offered. "I brought a change of clothes just in case."
"Why would that mean that you have to change your clothes?" questioned Wallace with a tilt of his head.
"Because once I shapeshift, these won't fit me anymore!" Falchion replied, tugging at his top.
"Why do you have to shapeshift?" questioned Caroline.
"To create an atmosphere. I do it all the time for my patients who prefer to talk to a woman."
"So… Wait… I… So, do you… Y'know… Like being a woman?" Wallace inquired further, somewhat taking the long way around to get to the question in hopes of not causing too much offense.
"I don't particularly mind it, no. I prefer being a man most of the time, but changing things up is sometimes necessary or useful. It can be a little fun, too, when I feel like it."
Nodding, Wallace was quiet for a few moments as the concept gradually took root in his mind. His attention then shifted to Caroline. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking…"
"No, I don't feel the same way." Caroline preemptively informed, cutting him off. "Not all incubi and succubi are alright with or even interested in that sort of thing."
"Oh, sorry…" Bashfully, Wallace looked down, feeling a bit horrible for having asked. The mood was a bit tense for a moment, before Caroline uttered a sigh.
"It's alright." he stated. "I can't attribute malice to just plain ignorance. It would be unusual for you to be an expert in every single species and you would never know if you didn't ask. I'm not offended at what you said, I'm just… not really excited about this, is all."
"Oh, thank God…" Wallace let go of the breath he had been holding and relaxed his shoulders. "I was worried I'd hurt your feelings… Don't worry, It's embarrassing, but I'll volunteer to go this first round so you don't have to!"
"Oh! Well… Thank you." Raising his brows, Mister Lexington was a bit surprised by the gesture. Perhaps humans were able to take to these lessons far better than he had thought. However, his lackluster reaction made Wallace wonder if he had made the right decision.
That made three volunteers, but that would still mean that two people would not have a dance partner. One of them needed to step up if they were going to proceed. Slowly, Solomon looked to his left and then he looked to his right. No one was raising their hand. Although he was not at all pleased, he knew that none of them could start until this matter was settled. Thus, he raised his hand.
"I'll do it, I guess." he offered, "Let's just get going."
What surprised him, however, was the expression on his former mentor's face as he said it. Ever so slightly, the Watchdog smiled. It was small, but it was sincere—not a means to threaten or unsettle. Ciel had every reason to smile, really. He couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride as two of his former proteges took control of the situation, even though it may cause them temporary embarrassment. Wallace, who lacked confidence when they first met was putting aside his feelings for the betterment of the group and Solomon, who had strived to be a leader and struggled during bootcamp, was shaping up to have an excellent sense of duty and proactiveness. Truly, they were growing into a pair of good men. Of course, Ciel would be a bit proud, considering how much effort he had put into shaping them thus far. Some of them still had a little bit farther to go, but he was overall immensely pleased with their development overall.
Still, that didn't mean that everything started well, once the ball got rolling. Developing a sense of rhythm took skill, and some of them certainly struggled more than others in that regard. Others were simply not pleased with the situation. It was awkward for some, trying to dance with their partners. Coraline, who already knew how to dance led Wallace very well and Richmond had a lovely time dancing with Elizabeth. Carl, however, was still a bit weirded out by the idea that the succubus he was dancing with was an incubus mere minutes ago and Gordon had a hard time keeping in step while dealing with the differences between his and Solomon's physiques.
"You're too tall!" the woman-crazy private declared.
"What does that have to do with you stepping on my feet?" Solomon quipped back. "Ow! Stop it!"
"Your legs are too long!" Gordon protested with a frown. "I could've been dancing with a literal angel, but no~ I get the giant werewolf!"
"I'll have you know that amoungst the faoladh, I'm a bit of a catch." the other man stated.
"Not hard to do, considering you're the only guy! Why don't you just stick with them, if they're so keen and stop being competition for those who need the help!"
"Gordon, it's rude to speak to your dance partner that way." Ciel's voice called out from the sidelines, causing Mister Cooksey to grimace. "Be courteous and complimentary."
"Yes, sir…" Gordon sighed, looking up at Solomon. Furrowing his brows he tried to think of something nice to say. "No homo, but… Being a werewolf… Is actually kinda cool, I guess…"
"Why, thank you." Mister Danlaw laughed. "You're such a charmer."
Things were clunky at the start, moving, slowing down, speeding up, and screeching to a halt abruptly before starting again for each group. Ciel had heavily implied that he may get out the riding crop if a few of them did not correct their form, but things were progressing, even if progress was slow. The day concluded with everyone being more competent at dancing than they were before, and the next class, they would all trade places and start again.
Ciel was starting to think that they had a bit of a fighting chance with the mademoiselle, even if he wasn't so happy about the idea of a few of them being chosen. It wasn't his choice or his business, of course, but he could quietly judge without interfering too heavily, he supposed, even if he didn't like it.
Sadly, he would not be their only judge, however. There was still the main event to look forward to. It crept ever closer as training continued, looming over them and causing some a great deal of unease, while still being excited all at once. One of them may be chosen by a real, honest-to-god, vampire noblewoman. It wasn't every day that these things happened, although by this point, the Earl had had his fill of this sort of thing.
Still, it was rather simple, in theory. The Mademoiselle was going to throw a party in her building and invite some of the women she taught classes to. There, she would judge each and every one of her potential suitors and make her choice. Quite frankly, she was having a great deal of fun with this. She practically floated around her home as she carried out her preparations, arranging flowers and tidying up with the help of her butler. It had been quite some time since she had last thrown a party and it was her very first time doing so on British soil. Of course she wanted to make a good impression.
Her home was barren for quite some time after coming to England, but she had started to amass a few things, here and there. Knick-knacks, plates, paintings, and furniture all crept their way into her possession. Even Lord Phantomhive very generously donated a bookshelf from Logan Kendrick's shop a few streets over as a "welcome" present. Her new home wasn't nearly as ornate as her accommodations were in France, but it was a start, although she was a tad embarrassed about it. She came home with some throw pillows and a few other things from London. All of it together cost a pretty penny, but it would surely be worth it in order to make the place presentable for a party—especially if she intended to meet her future husband there.
Setting her things down, she organised her belongings until she was content with their location for now, placing her hands on her hips as she admired her handiwork. It wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all! There were just a few things left; particularly the wall-art she had purchased. She needed Serge to place it in its frame and hang it for her. Obviously, she couldn't do it. It was bad enough she was organising her own house! Looking around, however, she realised that the man was nowhere in sight. Just where was he?
Renee had sent him off on a few errands earlier in the day and while it was a decent-sized list, she still expected him to be back by then. It wasn't like him to dawdle. Ordinarily, when she came home, he was already there, waiting to assist her with whatever it was she was planning. How perplexing. How on earth was she supposed to finish her preparations without him? Luckily for her, she didn't have to wait very long. She turned her head as she heard the sound of the front door opening downstairs, followed by the jingling of keys and the rustling of shopping bags.
"Milady?" the man called out in his native French. "Are you here?"
"Yes, yes, Serge! I'm upstairs!" she answered back with a wave of her hand. "When you're done putting everything away, I need you to come upstairs and help me with something! And bring a hammer!"
"A hammer?" he mouthed silently with an arch of his eyebrow. Still, he did what he was told, assigning a space for the things that he had purchased before heading upstairs to join his mistress.
He didn't always understand what the mademoiselle was on about, but he was always prompt with his assistance, regardless, and didn't ask too many questions. He was a butler, after all. He lived to serve. That said, he didn't quite look the part—even less so than Sebastian did, really. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail and the scar on his cheek was unbecoming of a man in his position. Or any position, in proper society, however, but the mademoiselle allowed him by her side regardless. She was kind like that.
She had taken him in decades ago, giving him a home off the street and a group of people who supported him when he had just lost his humanity. Sure, she could be a bit sheltered at times and oblivious, but he owed her a lot. Now, that same support network was gone for both of them; the servants having left when they could no longer be compensated or simply wanted to forge their own path upon reaching the island. Renee was all he had and she, him. Without him, she was helpless, so of course he needed to stay. He would. There was no question about it. That said, he wasn't too enthused about the idea of welcoming another man into the household. They were fine just as they were, although he knew that that was the sort of companionship she craved. Serge did not want to serve a man who he owed nothing to—who did not earn his respect. He was devoted to Renee and would serve her until the end of his days, but he refused to be passed onto some stranger! Needless to say, the butler had a lot to think about, these days.
"You're dressed up nicely." the woman observed. "And you're usually not out this late… Did you go somewhere?"
"Somewhat. I had errands of my own in town today." the man stated, taking off his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Reaching down, he picked up the frame and made his way toward the wall. "So, where about do you want this, milady?"
"'Errands?'" echoed Renee with her hands on her hips, completely ignoring his inquiry. "What sort of 'errands?' Since when do you have 'errands?'"
"There were personal things I had to attend to, but don't worry, I am completely at your disposal right now." Pausing, he held the frame up to the wall. "Is here alright?"
"Was it a woman?" questioned his employer. "I won't be angry if it was. After all, there is no rule against butlers having relationships and getting married, so long as it doesn't get in the way of their duties… A little to the left."
Moving the frame accordingly, the man looked back at her over his shoulder. "Here?"
"Mm… No. A bit higher. Anyway, if it was a woman, I would most appreciate it if you wouldn't go gallivanting off when not your day off… Well, I suppose you may not be getting another one of those for a while, unless I hire another servant… Hm… What a conundrum… I'll have to take money much more heavily into account when choosing a spouse than I thought…"
"Mademoiselle, if I may… Speak a bit out of turn…" Serge interrupted, abruptly capturing the woman's attention.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Hypothetically speaking…" he began, turning his face forward, staring at the picture in his hands. "Say if I were to find employment somewhere more… Appropriate for a woman of your stature. Would you—and, again, I'm speaking strictly in terms of hypotheticals—consider someone like me?"
"For what?"
"A potential suitor…"
No words came to mind as Renee tried to register what it was that was asking. Her brows scrunched and bent upwards and her eyes narrowed. Slightly, her head shook. She knew what he had said, but she wasn't understanding him.
"What?" she breathed.
"Will you consider it?"
"Consider…?"
"Consider me?"
Her mouth opened and then closed again. The mademoiselle's lips formed the first sound of the question she wanted to ask, but she already asked it. It hung there, not quite coming out. All the while, her butler put the picture frame back down. He didn't dare look at her yet. It was still too soon.
An anxious giggle forcibly bubbled from her throat in an attempt to break some of the tension. "Very funny, Serge." she said with a smile. "You almost had me for a second! Very clever. You scared me. If you were my suitor, then who would take care of everything around the house?"
"I can do both." Serge insisted, finally turning around to face her. "Many husbands do, these days, so it won't be a problem. I also think that it would be beneficial if I started bringing money into the household. I don't want you to always be spending yours."
Renee just shook her head, her smile slowly fading as the man looked at her expectantly. "Serge… I…" she began, not quite certain of where she was going. "Is that why you were late?"
"I had an interview, yes. At the bank. It's not as glamourous or exciting as a lawyer, doctor, or soldier, but… It'll pay well, it sounds like."
"You're leaving, aren't you?" the woman asked. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "Just like the others… You, too…"
"I'm doing it because I don't want to leave." the man replied, taking a step forward. "I don't want to be a burden to you and I want to remain by your side, Mademoiselle. I care about you. I'm… I'm fond of you. I want to take care of you always."
"Then why can't you just… remain a butler? My husband should be able to afford it!"
"I don't want to see you with another man. I don't want to serve anyone else." Serge stated, his shoulders slouching somewhat. "Do you dislike the idea that much?"
"I… I don't know… I've never thought about it before…"
"I see…"
"You were always my butler. It is difficult to try and imagine otherwise…"
"I see… Even if my occupation were to change?"
"I… I don't know." The woman averted her gaze as she said that. "I'm appreciative of you being proactive and trying to help the house—really, I am, but… I don't really want to talk about this any more. I cannot bear the thought of it. You're a wonderful man, of course, but…"
"But?"
"But… Not now." Slowly, she began to back away, moving toward the door. "I'm sorry."
With that apology, she finally turned around and walked away, leaving Serge alone in the room. He stared after her for a while longer as if she would pop her head into the room again at any moment, but she didn't. She wouldn't. That was the end of the discussion and it left Serge feeling numb.
It was fine if she simply didn't see him that way. He could accept that. It hurt, but that's not what he gathered from that. She didn't say that she didn't want him. She said that he was her butler. So what? What did that have to do with anything? So any other man was fine if they met her qualifications, but he wasn't? That hardly seemed fair. Couldn't she just reject him outright? If it was because he was a butler, he could change that. Maybe he should, either way. But for now, picked up the frame again. It wasn't going to hang itself, after all.
A/N: Greetings... How long has it been since I updated? Has it been two weeks yet? I'm sorry. I'm trying to stick to the once a week schedule and it works sometimes, but sometimes... it doesn't lmao
I honestly have no idea how this storyline is going to end, though... I don't think there's any really clear option at all. Everybody has something "wrong" about them that Renee probably wouldn't like and she needs to either learn to look past it and maybe admit that her standards are too high, or just stay single. Dunno. We'll get to the root of her problem eventually, but whether or not she can resolve it in a few chapters? That's debatable. It can go like ten different ways, at this point lmao
But that's what happens when you write serially lmao. Not all of my plots are well thought out and have the ending clear in sight from the start. Sometimes, it's just a shitshow, but hopefully, it's a mildly entertaining shitshow, at least!
I'll start working on the next one in an hour or two, probably. I'm gonna try and write as much as I can before the weekend is over!
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
