Disclaimer: No, I don't own Hellsing, sorry to disappoint.
VII.
The week passed as quickly as a day. There was a constant string of investigators, worried family members, concerned friends, and nosy neighbors trickling in and out of the Victoria home at all hours of the day. Unfortunately, no ne seemed content to simply leave Seras be. There were so many questions that needed to be answered, and half the time her mother wasn't stable enough to answer without bursting in to inconsolable, incomprehensible sobs.
A majority of the wonderful job of dwelling on that horrible night was left to Seras and her really didn't mind talking so much as long as it would help Edith find her way home. Their questions helped her from drowning in her own misery, but Seras had begun to get the unnerving feeling that the authorities didn't have any other leads.
The Count had apparently been held at the station for questioning for several days earlier in the week, but was released and cleared of suspicion. The other members of the dinner party, as well as the Count's staff, had been questioned as well. Although the police kept her mostly in the dark, she feared that the case was proving to be a difficult one.
"And were you aware of any other company your sister kept outside the people previously mentioned, Miss Victoria?" Mr. Albertson, an inspector, had worked under her father when he first started on the force. He knew her family well enough to be concerned enough to have bags under his eyes.
"No." What was he trying to insinuate? Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to say something else when a gentle hand rested on her forearm.
"I believe that is enough for today, Inspector." Pip had abandoned whatever it was that he did the day he'd been informed of Edith's disappearance to stay with the family. His claim on the guest bedroom went uncontested even though his parents still lived next door, and he'd barely left her side since. It was something Seras was both thankful for and plagued by.
"Of course." Mr. Albertson nodded. Today, Seras was very thankful for Pip's constant interventions.
"I am quite grateful for your time, Miss Victoria. My deepest condolences lie with you and your family," Oh God, he was talking like Edith was dead, "and I swear that we shall work to our fullest power to put your heavy hearts to rest." Mr. Albertson tucked away his notepad into an inner pocket of his standardized force jacket with a sad, tight-lipped smile. After the usual exchange of handshakes and curtsies, Mr. Albertson left Seras and Pip alone in the drawing room.
"Well," Pip sighed as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, "at least he seems dedicated." A quick strike of a match and then the smell of tobacco dominated the room.
Seras coughed with a frown, and Pip actually pulled his cigarette from his lips.
"I apologize, ma cher." She always threw a fit when he smoked in the house, and he always laughed her off and did it anyway. But this time, Seras only sighed and slumped in to her chair.
The force had already interrogated her twice before– they called it "tying up loose ends," but Seras knew enough about the Force to know what they were really doing. She supposed that after four days they were trying to fill in some holes, see if she had changed her story, or had new information. Pip had been there with her for all three, and while his constant hovering had gotten on her nerves before, she always appreciated his presence then.
"It's alright." Seras said quietly. Pip savored one last huff before pinching it out with his bare fingertips. He grinned when Seras flinched.
"Tis almost six o'clock, mon chou… will you not eat today?" She could tell Pip was a more than a little worried about her, but oh well. She hadn't had much of a stomach for the past week, and it wasn't as if her family actually sat down to meals anymore.
Between receiving sympathetic guests, worried family members, reporters, and inspectors, their family had barely enough time to say hello to each other in the mornings, let alone break bread. Besides, to actually sit down at the table and to see Edith's empty chair…
Seras bit her lip, shaking her head at the thought. It was still too soon to be thinking like that.
"I believe I shall retire for the evening." Seras rose from her chair with as much grace as she could muster which, judging from the look on Pip's roguish face, wasn't very much. It was still early.
"Seras…." Pip started to say something, but stopped and looked away. Seras bit back a frown. Did she really look that pathetic? Was she really this pathetic?
No,
A voice whispered inside of her. But what could she do? What could she possibly do to help? The list was small and only shortening, and that fact dismayed her to the point where she couldn't bear to remain aware of it. Ignorance was most certainly bliss. Seras was tired, oh so tired. She couldn't remember when she had last gotten a full night's rest without a nightmare, and even she could tell that her body was beginning to show signs of malnourishment. Her illness certainly wasn't getting better, and had seemed to only take a turn for the worse. She knew she had to eat but in a twisted, sadistic way she accepted the pain hunger brought as a sort of penance.
Though just what she was repenting, Seras didn't know. It was easier not to think about it.
"Good night, Pip."
"Good night, ma cher." The usual kisses and hugs were exchanged, and Seras excused herself from the drawing room, escaped upstairs, and locked herself in her bedroom. Through the vents she could hear snippets of her father's conversation with Mr. Albertson, and her mother's meeting with one of their concerned neighbors.
It was irritating, Seras thought as she forced open the buttons of her dress, that the family in mourning was expected to receive visitors and comfort other people. Of course, they weren't technically in mourning yet.
Seras sighed and threw the black cotton dress* she had adorned in a crumpled pile in the corner of her room before topping it with her corset and petticoats. Some may have criticized her drab and dreary color choice, but Seras couldn't have forced herself to wear some bright, jovial color as if nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong.
She lit a thick candle at her bedside and sat on her bed, pleasantly sinking in to the white goose down comforters. It was almost the beginning of summer, but she was always so cold. Sometimes after a nightmare she'd wake in a cold sweat, yet utterly chilled to the bone and shivering. Perhaps it was simply from fear.
Seras threw a thoughtful glance at her window. She hadn't slept with the windows open for quite some time, perhaps not even since last autumn.
The sky was a soft peachy orange, and the nightingales had only just begun their song. Traffic was beginning to thin and quiet down, and the wind could be heard brushing through the leaves of the sidewalk-trees below. All in all, it was a gorgeous evening, and Seras just couldn't resist – she rolled off the bed and made her way to the window, unlatching it with a smile and being greeted by the delicious scent of…
Garlic.
Seras frowned, and sniffed again. Why was the smell of garlic so strong only by her window, and not coming from the outside or inside?
After a few minutes of searching, Seras found several cloves of garlic covertly tied to the bottom of the window and literally mashed and smeared in the corners. It was relatively old and - to her disgust - starting to mold, and took a good twenty minutes to effectively wipe out. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had planted it there, but why Edith would've bothered to go to such extremes Seras couldn't fathom.
Seras couldn't help but blame it on that Sir Hellsing person. In the weeks before her disappearance they had been meeting very frequently, and since then Edith had nothing but superstitious Protestant malarkey in her head! Seras hadn't mentioned anything to the inspectors though, because as much as she distrusted Sir Hellsing, the woman hadn't had anything to do with her sister being abducted in an alleyway. It would be unfair to subject her to the misfortune that came with being put under investigation, and Edith had seemed to hold the woman in high regard.
Either way, Seras found finding the garlic to be comforting. It was like Edith was still with her, playing tricks on her like she did when they were little. Seras bolstered her window with an extra copy of Great Expectations, and finally settled down in her sheets for the night. Maybe she'd finally find a peaceful sleep this time around.
She hadn't always been such a deep sleeper, but tonight everything seemed… different.
Seras awoke akin to a swimmer breaking the surface, murky and unfocused. She knew that something unusual had woken her, something out of the ordinary. But what? She shifted her head on her pillow and looked to the right. Her window was still open, allowing the rays of the full moon to filter through the sheer curtains. That was pretty normal. She looked to the left, and saw the Count looming over her bedside.
Oh.
That might've been it.
That was when she knew it was a dream. Her vision was clear and she felt totally coherent – but the Count's eyes were red. Blood red, if you wanted to be cliché about it. He was all dressed up in such a silly outfit too, some odd leather and wolf-hide combination that was much better suited for the mountains of Romania than the streets of London.
A large black dog sat at her bedside as well with his muzzle resting on her silky sheets, his startling canines twisted into a mock of a grin. Seras also found that she could move her head, but was unable to speak or move or do anything else, really.
Yes, this was definitely a dream! She only hoped it wouldn't morph into a nightmare… not with the Count here, at least.
"Seras Victoria…" A cold but soft, ungloved hand stroked her cheek before it slowly slithered across her face, under her chin, and found reprieve at the nape of her neck. The pad of a thumb rubbed soft circles over her delicate skin, and she thanked God for allowing her such an amazing dream even though it had longed crossed inappropriate. Who was she to judge! Seras looked away from him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded and dreamy under his touch.
"You disgust me." His biting tone was like a pale of icy cold water. An uncomfortably sharp nail bit into the skin it once caressed. The dog growled softly, as if in agreement.
Her eyes flew to his once more, and she could see the truth in them. They were on fire, drawing her in and daring never to let go. Seras gulped and tried to speak but – surprise, surprise – found that she could not. She was trapped, and totally at his mercy.
"I once held you in higher regard than to become a shut-in in the face of transgression." His nails trailed from her neck, over her cheek, and finally to the roots of her hair. They uncomfortably scraped over her scalp, and Seras half-heartedly wondered if she'd find little scratches in the morning. She wanted to argue with him, but found that she couldn't. What he said was true.
Seras hadn't given up, but somewhere down the line she had given in. She had stopped trying – come to think of it, when had she even started to try? All Seras had been doing for the past week was crying, sleeping, starving herself, and brooding. There had been no action, no attempt to find her own sister.
Something sunk to the pit of her stomach. Good God, just what kind of a sister was she? And Seras wanted to be a police woman, of all things? She couldn't even help with her own sister's disappearance, she couldn't even manage to look over her emotions to face facts and the possible solutions that could come with them.
Edith could've been raped, murdered, sold, married, or God only knew what else. But there were places she could go, people she could speak to who may have answers whether she wanted to hear them or not. Seras looked away in shame. She had become a shut-in, everything the Count said was true.
Come to think of Him…
Seras dared to face him again, only to see his entire expression had changed. It mirrored the thoughtful one he had shown her only once before, in the alleyway the night of Edith's disappearance, and it both startled and flattered her. His eyes were strangely… soft, and his lips were twisted into a semblance of a smile. The dog panted, looking from Seras to his master and then back again.
"Seras. My Seras Victoria." He spoke after holding her gaze for a moment, this time gently ruffling her hair. "Perhaps redemption is still within your grasp." Seras blinked. He stared at her for another long moment before casting a glance at her open window. His countenance darkened then, and with it the shadows of the room itself. Seras suddenly felt suffocated, choked by his very presence.
The Count of her dreams was certainly no mere man.
He seemed to be warding something away, casting a warning or offering a dare. His hand fell from her hair and gently stroked her cheek again, affectionately thumbing little circles round and round as he stared out in to the night.
"I will see no that harm will come to you."
Harm? Harm from what, from whom? Was he protecting her from the same person who attacked Edith? And that begged the question of whether or not he was acquainted with the group responsible. But the room was so warm, the fire was roaring, and she was still so tired…
Those words were the last thing she heard him say before her lids grew too heavy, the dog's panting too loud, and the Count's touch too cold. But she was still able to feel the heat of his lips on hers before she drifted away.
It was the high noon sun that finally woke her.
Unsurprisingly there had been no knock at her door, and breakfast was not waiting for her on her writing desk as had been the custom for years prior to last week. But Seras couldn't blame anyone. With the way she had been acting for the past few days, it was a miracle that they had decided to leave her alone instead of taking up Pip's surveillance campaign.
She was still going to opt for black out of respect though, and no one was about to change her mind about that. After pulling her hair in to a respectable braid and covering her not-so-delicate handiwork with her trusty mourning bonnet, Seras deemed herself ready to go out and face the world again. There was a newfound sense of resolution, a newborn determination welling up inside her. Although she felt rather silly thinking about it, she blamed her sudden change of heart on the dream.
Her dream-Count had been right: she was disgusting. Her submission, her acquiescence was revolting. She had so much more to offer, so much more to give, and by God she was going to do whatever she could to help find her sister! Seras marched out of her room with a skip in her step, expertly tip-toeing by her mother's open chamber door and the cracked door to her father's study.
She slipped out the front door without so much as a word to her family – though it wasn't as if they knew she had gone anywhere anyway. True, if (when) they found her bed empty and her room in an awful state with the windows still wide open from last night, there would be a lot of jumping to conclusions and probably an inspector summons.
Seras softly shut the door behind her. Well, she'd just have to cross that bridge when she got to it. That was responsible… or, Seras liked to pretend that it was. But just as she was hopping down the front steps with a strong sense of urgency, someone just had to call out to her from behind.
"Seras?"
And of course that someone just had to be Pip, of all people. Seras almost cursed out loud as she turned around to face the Frenchman, forcing a nonchalant smile that probably looked more constipated than easygoing. Pip was leaning against the brick under the window nearest the staircase, conveniently out of the sight and with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Seras, where are you off to?" Pip raised an eyebrow and pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps toward her. Seras kept smiling, hoping that it didn't look as bad as it felt.
"Ah, well, I was in dire need of fresh air." Oh bother, she'd forgotten to call for the cab driver! And now since Pip was here and growing more suspicious by the minute, she'd have to get on with getting her "fresh air" rather quickly… even if that meant she'd have to get fresh air all the way to Nottinghill by foot.
Pip snorted. "Do you believe we French to be senseless? Beauty and foolishness are not simultaneous, as you should very well know."
Seras laughed nervously and tried to flick away the accusation and back-handed compliment with a wave of her hand. "Oh, I'd never…"
"Perhaps I may be of assistance, if I was only aware of what the business entails." He threw the hand-rolled cigarette in to the mud of the street a few feet away and watched its flimsy wisps of smoke rise. He met Seras' questioning gaze evenly, and held it until she finally had to look away. He won.
"Well then, if you would be so kind to call for the coach, I would be much obliged." Seras quickly recollected her composure and stood up a little straighter, held her nose a little higher. Pip raised an eye brow, still unconvinced.
"The destination being…?"
"Nottinghill, of course." Seras crossed her arms and gave him a look that asked why he hadn't figured it out earlier.
Pip frowned. To take a drive through the neighborhood was one thing, but it was an entirely different ordeal to take to it on the streets. He looked the young girl before him, the girl who barely skimmed nineteen, was oblivious to her own beauty, and thought the world to be a friendly place. She and her silk petticoats would be the first to be picked off by pick-pockets, con artists, muggers, and worse.
"Then I shall call the coach." He didn't want to imagine the "worse."
Seras visibly relaxed, and her smile brightened slightly. "Oh, thank you Pip! Thank you truly."
Truth be told, she had been weary to enter the neighborhood by herself. While she wanted to one day be able to walk any street without fear as an inspector, today she was still a simple young lady who still wasn't confident in self-defense. No class would take her when she inquired for them, and while she entertained the idea of dressing as a man for them, she'd never been able to acquire the right wardrobe for it. She wasn't a Police Girl yet regardless of how many manuals she'd read, and couldn't pretend to be as such.
"Of course, ma cher, of course." He couldn't help but return her bright, lovely smile. He'd do anything to keep that smile on her face.
Pip left to call on the coach and returned shortly after. Within twenty minutes, they were on their way to the Nottinghill district. The ride to the district was short in theory, but never ended up that way due to London's haphazard traffic.
The delay did, however, allow Seras to fill Pip in on her brilliant, spurred-by-a-dream plan. It was simple enough to really get to people, and if they got to people perhaps they'd get closer to the truth. Perhaps someone would tell her something that they wouldn't have told the police! People hated speaking to police, after all.
"Your plan was to knock on strangers' doors alone, in a bad neighborhood, to ask if by some off-chance they had seen or heard anything strange the night of Edith's disappearance." Apparently Pip wasn't able to see the simplistic brilliance of her strategy. Seras nodded, her features stubborn and resolute.
"People may be more sympathetic to me than an inspector. They may mention something they shan't have said otherwise." By putting faces and names to cases and by putting people on the spot, they may psychologically be more compelled to help. Seras wouldn't lie, either; she knew she was charming, and she was well prepared the play the grieving sister card as much as necessary.
"Or then they may pull you in the house, lock the door, and then we'd have a search for you, too." Pip replied dryly.
Seras frowned, but didn't argue because the thought had crossed her mind as well. But at the time she'd first hatched her scheme, she had pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind because Edith's safety took prevalence over her own.
"Until your safety is in jeopardy as well." Pip deadpanned when she relayed her logic to him. "You are much too trustful, Mignonette. It is your greatest and worst attribute."
"I'd much rather be too trustful than distrustful! How awful it must be to live in constant fear of the world!"
"'tis not constant fear, but constant skepticism. There is a difference!" Pip finally laughed and dug another cigarette out of his grimy jacket pocket. They were getting close, and he was feeling a bit anxious. He didn't want anything, anything at all, to happen to Seras.
Pip glanced at her as they turned in to the neighborhood. She was staring wide-eyed out into the street, pointing out little shops and local grocers as if she had never been in a big city before. Pip leaned back in to the thin, comfortable padding of the Victorias' coach. Perhaps he was over exaggerating. They weren't going to war, and she wasn't one of his clients. They were just going to be walking around on the streets of London, for godssake.
Pip and Seras stopped to rest under the shade of an "Arabian Apple" monger's ramshackle awning before purchasing two Arabian apples, which suspiciously tasted no different than regular apples. They were quiet as they ate, as if trying to both forget and absorb the afternoon simultaneously.
For the most part, their campaign had been a bust. After having six doors being slammed in his face when he knocked, Seras being twice invited into sketchy townhomes by less than savory looking men, and dozens of useless sympathies, they'd just about been ready to call it quits until they came made their way closer to the Count's townhome.
They stopped at the townhome stuffed behind the Count's, the arching tile roof of his opulent home visible from behind the humble makeshift bakery like the looming figure of Big Brother. A stout woman with streaks of gray answered the door, her rosy face softening when she hear Seras' story. As the Count's neighbor, she was very familiar with the case.
"I am quite sorry for your loss, m'dear." The woman said sadly as she dried her hands on her apron. A cloud of flour puffed up with the movement, and she quickly waved it away. "But I'm afraid I haven't any information to offer. I been baking a wedding cake late into the night, I hadn't the time to step outside a'tall." The woman looked genuinely sad that she couldn't be of any more help.
"Oh, well," Seras tried to smile, though clearly disheartened. "I thank you for your time." She was just turning away to rejoin Pip on the sidewalk when the woman spoke up again.
"No- wait! There was something strange that I hadn't thought related to the case, but perhaps it could help." The woman grabbed Seras' shoulder and Seras spun around so fast the woman's hand was knocked off. Pip quickly jumped up the front stairs and joined Seras.
"It wasn't that night, but the night after your sister disappeared did I hear the strangest, most frightening sound. It was in the dead of night, I tell you, and woke me with a terrible fright. It sounded like scream, but it…" The woman frowned and licked her lips. "It-it could not have been, it was simply too dark, too inhuman. It sounded as if someone were dying." Seras paled, and the woman started.
"Oh, oh no my dear, it was a man's scream! Most definitely not that of a lady's, I assure you!" Seras was visibly relieved, and Pip breathed a sigh.
"But what an awful sound it was…" The woman sighed. "I looked out my back window, but could see nothing that night. Darker than black, I tell you. I believe the scream came from near that aristocrat's home or one of my other neighbors. I do hope this helps you in some way." They thanked her and ended up at the Arabian Apple stand to rest and recollect themselves before they visited their final destination for the afternoon.
"In this neighborhood, such a cry could have been for anything." Pip commented in between bites, watching people walk by on the sidewalk. Seras nodded slightly.
"Yes… and if it was indeed that of a male, it wasn't Edith."
"That is good news in itself, you know." Pip bit into the core before carelessly tossing it aside. "And any man's scream is enough to rattle the bones. We can consider it, but we cannot base too much on it." He leaned against the brick of the building behind the stand to fish in to his pocket for a cigarette and groaned when he found none.
"Merde," He sighed. Seras finished her apple and walked to daintily drop it in the gutter.
"So then… perhaps this wasn't the most successful of ventures." She smiled sadly. Pip pushed off the wall and looped his arm with hers as they started off toward the final home. Occasionally one of the people they passed with pause to give them a good stare, and Pip wondered just how odd the couple they seemed what with pretty, lady-like Seras hanging on a straggly, burly eye-patched man's arm.
"I wouldn't sound so disheartened, ma cher! At least we know the incident was isolated to the space around the Count's household, and that it was most likely intended to be dealt with discreetly." Pip paused to think for a moment. "And if discretion was intended, the possibility of…" He trailed off.
"The possibility of what, Pip?" Seras asked, frowning.
"Oh, pardon me, I seem to have lost my train of thought!" He grinned cheekily, dimples showing and eye sparkling. Seras rolled her eyes and playfully batted him on the shoulder.
"You had me on edge, you know!" She chastised with a playfulness in her voice. Pip kept up his grin until she looked away, distracted by a passing carriage on the street. It quickly faded, and his features lost all traces of gaiety.
If discretion was intended, the possibility of premeditation was a very likely, but that begged the question of finding the person responsible. From what Pip had been told by Seras, her family, and the detectives on the case, it wasn't as if Edith had been forcefully abducted from the Count's home by some masked marauder.
She had supposedly left the Count's household by her own means, only to be spotted in the side alley with a strange man – her abductor, no doubt - by one of the kitchen staff. But what was Edith doing in the side alley of the Count's home to begin with? Why would she leave his home at all, and during a fashionable party no less? She had either been lured, forced, or frightened out of the household, and the only person who would have the easiest time of doing so was none other than the Count himself.
Pip's eyes narrowed as they turned a corner and a garish residence came in to sight. It was true that he hadn't had the most amiable first impression of the Count, but there was just something about the man that was off. Perhaps some would write it off as jealousy for the man who courted Seras, but to Pip… there was just something that wasn't right. The man was not simply a foreign noble, and that he was certain of.
"Oh, the Count has the most wonderful home I have ever seen! I am certain you'll agree, Pip!" Seras exclaimed as they opened the wrought iron front gate and made their way toward the front staircase. Pip nodded, but didn't say anything as they climbed the staircase and made it to the front door.
It was made of dark oak, much too tall for any normal person, and had a large brass knocker with a wolf's head on it. Much too symbolic for Pip's taste, but he reached up at gave the door a good few swift knocks with it. Seras was standing farther away from the door, admiring the view one had from such a tall staircase, and wasn't totally within vision when the door was answered almost instantly after the last knock. Pip pulled his hand back in surprise, staring at the butler who answered the door.
"We have come to speak with the Count-" Pip began, only to be interrupted by the butler.
"My master is currently resting and will see no visitors." The butler was a smaller man with a sharply lined face and glasses. His attire was seamless, from his combed black hair to his matching black suit. His entire aura was well-maintained to the point of compulsion, perfection to the point of obsession.
The butler observed Pip in obvious distaste. Pip couldn't help but glare back and was just about to say something that probably wouldn't improve his impression, when Seras joined Pip's side.
The butler's expression didn't change, but there was a spark of recognition in his sharp, black eyes.
"Good afternoon, Miss Victoria." The butler spoke before she had a chance to introduce herself, surprising Seras. While she faintly remembered him from the Count's dinner party, she had certainly never made his acquaintance before. She supposed the Count had pointed her out to him. The butler bent into a formal bow of greeting before pulling himself back up into his ramrod straight posture.
"If you both would be so kind as to follow me, I shall escort you to the library." The butler quickly took a step back and gestured for them to enter the foyer, apparently feeling more hospitable now than he had before. Seras and Pip did as he said and followed him through the grand foyer, where Seras pointed out a few of her favorite paintings along the way.
Pip didn't like them. Albeit beautiful, Pip didn't like the Count's home at all. From the moment he stepped inside, he had the unnerving feeling of being watching. Every once in a while he'd give in and look over his shoulder, and of course no one would be there except a statue or a painting of some old man in expensive clothes.
They went into a long wood-pannelled hallway with – surprise – more portraits that made Pip feel uncomfortable. Seras seemed totally immune to their following eyes, and gazed upon them with somber admiration. Pip tried to ignore the feeling, but it only grew when they finally entered the library.
And what a library it was.
"Does the Count hunt exotic game?" Seras asked, trying not to make her discomfort with the Cheetah-turned rug showcased in the middle of the room obvious.
"On occasion, I suppose." The butler intoned quietly before turning to stand in the entrance. "The Count shall join you shortly." He didn't waste time and closed the door swiftly behind him. The hairs on the back of Pip's neck stood erect; he felt trapped.
"Oh look, Pip! This one must be a portrait of the Count. He has one of his grandfather in the drawing room. They do resemble one another, so very much..." Seras was standing by the fireplace, smiling up at the frowning portrait of a tall, dark, and handsome man standing next to a black stallion in an overgrown field. The typical portrait of a rich nobleman, Pip assumed.
He looked around the room. "Well, he certainly likes to read, does he not?" Pip asked out loud, making his way toward the wall lined with books shelves only to trip over…. A pair of ladies' boots? Pip frowned and glanced at Seras, who had moved on to the small portraits on the mantelpiece, and then back at the boots.
His breath caught in his throat, and he quickly stole a glance at Seras. She was still admiring the mantel, bless her, and he turned away from the boots as he possibly could so not as to gain her attention. There were a number of reasons why there would be ladies' boots in the Count's library, but they weren't many Pip could be convinced by at the moment.
However, they were in no shape for a confrontation. He wasn't armed at all, didn't assign any Geese to the area, and didn't know the neighborhood well enough to hide from harm's way if need be. It would be unfair to try the Count guilty before proven innocent, after all, and surely the Force had searched his home before. There had to be a reason, but Pip felt his pulse and mind race anyway. There-
"What a surprise this is." Pip and Seras both jumped around in surprise, the former more frightened than the later. The Count stood before them in all his glory, odd eyeglasses and all. A medium sized black hound stood slightly behind his master, observing them with an intelligible gaze.
Pip felt his throat go dry. The Count had an almost suffocating prescience that could've sucked the life out of everything around him, forcing all attention to be directed toward him alone.
"My Lord." Seras greeted him with a sad smile, wringing her hands together as he crossed the room to get to her, all but ignoring Pip.
"Why so sad, Police Girl?" The Count stopped just short of Seras to elegantly fall into what was probably a priceless leather high-backed chair. His dog had other plans and went straight to Seras, excitedly sniffing at her skirts and circling around her like a wolf. Seras giggled slightly and reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears, and the dog barked slightly in response.
"Down, Baskerville." The Count snapped. The hound obediently complied and turned back to his master, choosing to complacently lie at his feet. Seras smiled at dog.
"Oh, I adore animals, he did no harm. I hadn't the slightest idea you had a dog." She bent over at the waist and extended her hand out to the dog and made those ridiculous little clicking noises people thought attracted animals, only for him to give her a curious look and nothing more.
"He's quite obedient." Pip commented from the corner in the room, prompting the attention of both Seras and the Count.
"He understands who his Master is." The Count commented, reaching down to scratch Baskerville behind the ears. Seras bit her lip and glanced at Pip, whose lips were drawn in to a tight line. There was silence in the room once again. It seemed the Count wasn't in the best of moods today, for he was quieter than usual.
"And on what business have you and that Frenchman come here today, Police Girl?" The Count asked after a long moment, lifting his hand from Baskerville's head. She noticed his wrinkled clothing, his slightly messy hair. Had they waken him? "What do you need from me that the Frenchman can't already give you?"
"Well, today we went about Nottinghill to investigate Edith's… disappearance on our own." She said quietly, still looking about the room. The Count seemed to perk up at that.
"Really now? Why, it seems my Police Girl is blossoming in to a real police girl." Finally, he grinned. It was the closest thing to smile they were going to get. "And what evidence did you come across?" He seemed to be in better spirits now.
Seras forced herself not to beam at his praise. It shouldn't have meant as much to her as it did. "That is why we disturb you today, My Lord. After speaking to the baker who lives in the townhome behind you, we wanted to know if you had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary the night after Edith's disappearance."
"Out of the ordinary, you say? No, I don't recall anything strange."
"The lady reported hearing the blood-curdling scream of a man in the dead of night." Pip was straight and to the point. The Count laughed, and Seras frowned slightly. Pip could only stare.
"Merging you first police report and interrogation in to one, are you?" His grin was unkind. "But no, I'm afraid I can report hearing no such thing. I never woke to any screaming – but then, I had gotten to bed by late anyway, and am one to sleep like the dead." He was playing with them now. Pip sucked in a breath and looked from the Count to Seras, who only seemed disappointed that the Count hadn't heard anything.
"Oh." Was her official response.
"Well…" She frowned again, clearly disheartened and off-put. She had truly been expecting the Count to realize that he had heard the scream, that there was something to it, and they'd put two and two together and somehow get closer to Edith.
"Why so sad, Police Girl? I have not seen you since that night, and yet you look as excited to see me as a wife is to see her husband's mistress." He drummed his gloved fingertips on the arm of his chair. Seras' eyes narrowed. What? How could he ask her such a thing?
"No, of course it isn't that! How can you say such a thing? My dear sister, my best friend, is gone!" Seras asked, looking genuinely upset by the Count's words for once. The Count looked up, his expression impassive yet caught slightly off guard.
"This is where my sister disappeared! This is where I found out! This s where I sobbed my heart out, and heard that there was no trace! No hope!" It was quite apparent that the stress and general bad luck of the day had finally gnawed through her. The raw emotions that had to be constantly buried with every retelling of Edith's story lie awake in their graves, striking madly at the coffin door.
"Of course I would be sad here! Of course I would continue to replay such a thing over and over again while I walk the very rooms my sister walked in her last hours! Of course I'm sad! Not everything in my life centers around you!" Seras practically shrieked, her voice shrill and threatening to be mutilated by tears. But God, she was so sick of crying! And she refused to cry in front of this man again!
The Count was quiet. He seemed contemplative. Baskerville eyed her with a certain degree of curiousity, and Pip stared at her in horror. This man was not one to be spoken to in such a way! What was Seras thinking?
"My Lord… I…." Pip began, walking swiftly from the bookshelves to Seras. "I fear it to be best that we-"
"It seems this has affected you more deeply than I previously observed." The Count spoke over Pip as if he wasn't there once again. Seras scoffed and looked away to grab Pip's arm, at which Pip felt great satisfaction when he saw the Count's lip twitch to a frown.
"I do apologize for my outburst, My Lord. It shan't happen ever again." Seras apologized, not being able to bring herself to beg outright for forgiveness. Here she had stood in her grief to speak with him about her sister, and he hadn't been able to think of anyone other than himself.
Seras started toward the door with Pip in tow, trying to make it before she started that damn crying again when the Count stood suddenly from his chair. Baskerville growled lowly at the disruption, but otherwise went back to his nap.
"Miss Victoria," He addressed her, and she stopped because he hadn't called her that since a time she couldn't remember. She looked over her shoulder, expecting him to be still somewhat near his chair, only to find him only a few steps away from her and Pip. Seras jumped back in surprise. Just how had he crossed the room so fast! Pip looked as equally as perplexed, if not terrified.
"I believe it would do you well to rest."
Seras looked away. "I have rested too long already. Now is not the time for inaction, My Lord." She had already wasted away too long in her bed. Edith needed her.
"That is true, Miss Victoria." The Count agreed somberly. "But such is not the rest I mean. Even now as you work for your sister, you are at the end of your rope. Your temperament, your sanity, cannot bear to stay in this city with this sadness, these people, and these memories for much longer." He paused, probably for dramatic effect. "You simply must get away."
Seras paused. The Count saw his opening, and Pip could only pull Seras a little bit closer to him as the Count spoke.
"I invite you to join me at my country estate to escape this sadness, if only for a little while, to take hold of your bearings once more." When Seras didn't respond at once, he added: "For Edith's sake."
Pip glared. That was a low blow.
"I… I know not. I most humbly appreciate your offer, My Lord, but…" Seras trailed off, trying to word her rejection in the softest and kindest way possible. She simply didn't want to deal with courtship at the moment, not when Edith was still unaccounted for.
"I simply wish to only better your well-being, Miss Victoria." The Count said softly, taking a step forward to lay a hand on her free arm. Seras watched his hand before looking to his face, which had morphed in to that of the most charming Apollo Michelangelo had ever drawn.
"It would not be in Seras' best interest to be to a man's manor alone, My Lord." It was forward, Pip knew, but he couldn't just stand there any longer and watch as the Count attempted to persuade Seras to meet up with him at some unknown address in the country. The Count turned to him, his lips now firmly settled in a deep frown. But, perhaps Pip shouldn't have said that…
"If I should accept your offer, My Lord…" Seras began, "It would be on account of my dear brother Pip being at my side for it." She was resolute, and it seemed that it would be the only way she'd have it.
Pip opened his mouth to protest, to say that while he cared for her, he did have a job to get back to, but the Count beat him to it.
"I'll allow it. I shall visit your parents this evening." The nobleman suddenly looked smugly satisfied, and Pip came down with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
They said their goodbyes and paid their respects, and left soon after.
Seras was still a little irked by his comment.
"He was just so selfish… to think that I have to be happy at all times for him, as if his happiness is supposed to be my happiness!" She exclaimed as they walked along the street, looking for their coach. Pip didn't say anything for a long while, and only listened to Seras' rant.
"Seras…" He did eventually find something to say.
"Yes, Pip?"
"Do not trust him."
{A/N}
Notes:
- After a loved one had died, Victorian ladies would typically wear understated black dresses and bonnets for several months. They might have also worn pendants would a picture of the deceased around their necks, or a locket containing a lock of the deceased hair or clothing. This ritual was called "mourning," and was taken very seriously.
Hi everyone! Thanks for all the reviews, and the comments about the rule of invitation!
I recently underwent surgery and am still recovering, but am now feeling better and am able to write once again!
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Until next time,
Della