"Whoa," whistled softly the voice of its master as he reined in the handsome horse to a stop, before dismounting in a single graceful leap and strolling leisurely up the steps to knock on the door. A casual flick of his head to toss aside some loose strands of hair was all the attention he paid to his appearance, but his hat was off in an instant the minute he saw that it was a young girl who had answered the door instead of the male butler he'd expected.
"How
may I help you?" Rahne Sinclair asked in a sweetly childlike manner, long
years of training reminding her to instinctively greet the stranger with
a polite smile. He returned her smile with a lopsided grin of his own,
before replying lightly, "I certainly hope so, missy. After all, I did
set sail all the way from Dublin just so I could come pay a visit to Lady
Katherine--"
"Ah,
yes, of course, you must be the gentleman from Ireland who'll be marrying
Lady Ka...um, I mean, who'll be...who is...I mean, you're the...the..."
Rahne hastily broke in, a sparkle of remembrance lighting up her grass-green
eyes, before the dilemma over how to call this particular gentleman knitted
a distressed frown into her brows. Flustered, she finished guiltily, "You
must be Mr. Alvers...er, Lord Alvers...Marquess Wessex...?" Her voice trailed
off and a blush of embarrassment crept up her neck and stealthily made
its way up to her cheeks, while her guest calmly corrected her with a hint
of amused laughter in his voice, "Lance will be just fine, little girl."
"Of
course, Lord...um, Lance," Rahne answered uncertainly, as she held the
door open wider so that he might step inside. "If you wouldn't mind waiting
for a few minutes, I'll go upstairs and inform Lady Katherine that you're
here." Lance gave no answer as he made himself at home in the parlor, drawing
up his long legs out of habit onto the delicately embroidered surface of
a beautifully carved, mahogany-framed sofa. A dismayed look swept over
Rahne's face that the dashing visitor had just plopped his feet down on
Lord Kent's favorite brocade seat; however, since it wasn't in a servant's
place to reprove a member of the nobility, the thirteen-year-old girl swallowed
any protests and quietly pattered up the winding stairs toward Kitty's
room.
Safely
concealed inside her own room, Kitty was trying fruitlessly to crochet
an intricate heart-and-flowers design onto an overstuffed velvet pillow,
but try as she might, the sixteen-year-old couldn't concentrate on her
delicate embroidery, and her small fingers were already pink with numerous
bruises and prick marks. Twice already she had resisted the temptation
of giving up and flinging the pillow against the wall, and twice the memory
that had stopped her from doing so made her writhe with shame. Even though
it had already been two days since the party at Phoenix Hall, the embarrassment
over her behavior in front of her betrothed still burned red-hot as though
it were fresh. How could she have insulted the man! And right to his face,
too! Of course, if Lord Alvers had been a true gentleman, he'd never have
goaded those caustic words out of her...and then have had the gall to laugh
at her humiliation afterwards.
"Ouch!"
Kitty suddenly cried out, the sharp pain of her needle piercing into her
slender index finger snapping her out of her thoughts. On an impulse, she
tore off her embroidery and raised the hurt finger upwards into her mouth,
a thunderous scowl in her sky-blue eyes indicating all the angry, unladylike
thoughts rushing in her head.
It
was Rahne's timid knock on her double doors that brought Kitty out of her
reflections, and as the young Scottish maid started to speak, her mistress
hastily went about on smoothing her features into a more pleasantly demure
image.
"Lady
Katherine?" Rahne asked tentatively, her voice sounding tiny and muffled
from the other side of the heavy French doors.
"You
may come in, Rahne," Kitty instructed in what she hoped was a normal, amiable
tone of voice, waiting charitably through the short interval it took for
Rahne to turn the doorknobs and step inside the room.
"Lady
Katherine, you have a visitor downstairs," the young maid spoke up, causing
Kitty's slender eyebrows to slant together in confusion.
"A
visitor? I don't recall receiving any calling cards lately," she mused
out loud, silently running through her mind all the possible identities
of this mystery guest. Perhaps it was Jean, over to gush about her recent
engagement to Scott...or maybe it was the Maximoff twins...and Rogue was
a long shot, seeing as how lately she was concerned only with news about
Remy LeBeau and the ongoing siege at Vicksburg.
"It's
Lord Lance...oh, excuse me, I meant to say that it's Lord Alvers who's
come to call on you, Lady Katherine," Rahne explained, a flustered look
on her face as she floundered over the name of her mistress's betrothed.
A loud gasp exploded from Kitty's mouth in a whoosh of violently rushing air, while the distraught girl sank into the nearest bentwood chair as the full impact of the unexpected news seeped in. Lance Alvers! Here! Today! She couldn't possibly face him, ever again, couldn't ever look him in the eye after that night at the ball when she'd called him a cad and a black-hearted wretch to his face! The additional brief moments with him, while her father was making the appropriate re-introductions, had been pure agony, and if Kitty hadn't run away and escaped back to Lockheed after ten or fifteen minutes of secret chagrin, she doubted she would have been able to get through the evening without screaming.
Kitty
heaved a tired sigh from her fetal position on the papier-mâché
seat, resting her face in the palms of her hands and disregarding the fact
that she was crushing the voluminous skirts of her pretty watered-silk
dress with her careless sitting position.
"I'll
die of shame if I have to see him again," she muttered to herself, and
at Rahne's curious look, hurriedly explained out loud, "Tell Lord Alvers
that...that I'm terribly sorry, but I can't come down right now because
I'm not feeling very well." Technically, that was true, too--a dull headache
had already begun throbbing at her temples. Rahne paused uncertainly at
the doors, consternation evident on her face.
"But
Lady Katherine, you're not sick--" she started to protest in a tiny voice.
"Tell
him I have the fever!" Kitty interrupted crossly, causing the younger girl
to jump back in alarm at the sudden change of tone in her mistress's voice.
Kitty instantly felt guilt wash over her, and hastened to add in a kinder
voice, "Please, Rahne, tell Lord Alvers that I'm ill and I can't go downstairs
today..." Her voice trailed off, before she squared her shoulders and added
on an impulse, "But tell him I'll return his call as soon as I get better.
That's a promise." Rahne still stood doubtfully at the doors, before finally
nodding obediently and setting off with a quiet, respectful adieu of, "Yes,
Lady Katherine."
Lance
was still lounging around in the parlor--and, much to Rahne's consternation,
his booted feet were still resting indolently against the expensive brocade
material of Lord Kent's favorite sofa--when the brown-haired maid pattered
back downstairs after her brief conversation with Kitty. Clearing her throat
shyly to get the young man's attention, Rahne proceeded to speak while
steadfastly avoiding his piercing dark eyes, "Uh, Lady Katherine sends
her deepest regrets, Lord Alvers--I mean, Lord Lance...or..."
"Just
Lance," came the laconic reply, as the owner of those words dropped his
legs from his brocade seat and drew himself to his full height, towering
with ease over the substantially smaller Rahne. "What's wrong with her?"
"She's
terribly ill, sir," Rahne squeaked back, and if the nervousness in her
voice didn't give away the fact that she was lying, then the sudden blush
which crept up her neck more than finished the job.
"It's
rather strange for a girl of Lady Katherine's spirit to have taken ill
so unexpectedly," Lance replied with a knowing smirk, putting devilish
emphasis on the word 'spirit.' "I'm sure she can't be so "terribly ill"
that she's unable to see me. Go up to your mistress and tell her that I
won't take no for an answer."
"But...but
she can't see you," Rahne protested awkwardly. "She told me to regrettably
inform you that she has the fever, but she'll return her call as soon as
she gets better." Lance made no motion to reply, only continued to stand
there with a sly smirk growing by the minute on his lips. Finally, as Rahne
was beginning to work up the courage to spin another fanciful lie, Lance
cut her off by placing his hat back onto his head and turning on his heels
as if to exit.
"Well,
then, I certainly won't be responsible for disturbing a girl on her sickbed,"
Lance humored with an odd grin, much to Rahne's relief. "If you'll excuse
me, missy, I'll be taking my leave now."
Five
minutes after the reassuring sounds of the front doors opening and closing
had announced Lance's departure, Kitty stood up and dully went back to
the chair she'd occupied while engaged in her ill-fated crocheting attempt.
Picking up the delicate embroidery, she absently ran her fingers over the
rich, dark velvet, before heaving a small sigh and quietly returning the
pillow to her canopy bed. She threw a hasty glance at her mirror to make
sure that her crinoline hadn't been crushed too badly, then made her way
across the bedroom, tucking away an astray lock of coffee-colored hair
when she reached her window. Slowly, with a faraway frown in her eyes,
Kitty pushed aside the fluttering lace under-curtains and heavier peacock-blue
drapes in order to slide the heavy glass panes open and let some fresh
air inside. Well, I suppose I've succeeded in avoiding him--at least
for today, she thought with a small, wry smile to herself, but I
wonder how long I can keep on avoiding him like this? Kitty took a
deep breath--or as deep a breath as her tightly-laced corset would let
her take--and closed her eyes, silently enjoying the sweet melodies of
lively songbirds and the fragrance of the milky-white jasmines that grew
on trellises outside her window.
"Oh,
I won't drive myself crazy by thinking about that," she murmured to herself.
"I should just be thankful I was able to avoid him this time."
A low
chuckle answering those words sent her eyes flying open, and the poor girl
nearly screamed in shocked horror when she heard a male voice speak up
teasingly from virtually right in front of her face, "I'm hurt you should
feel this way about me, my fair lady. Is my--how did you put it two nights
ago? My heathen Irishness, was it?--really that detestable for your delicate
English ways?" Kitty stared with eyes that were as wide as china-blue saucers
at the grinning visage of Lance Alvers, disbelieving the sight that stretched
before her. This couldn't be! How could that man have scaled up her windows
without anybody noticing?
"L-l-lord
Alvers," she sputtered, and then, to hide her flaming cheeks, hurriedly
dipped down in a flustered curtsy while asking in a voice that shook, "How
did you get up here?"
"I
climbed up the trellises, of course," Lance replied offhandedly, indicating
with his casual tone of voice that he thought such an action to be the
most natural one in the world. Clearly upset, Kitty struggled for a reply
and ended up admonishing timidly, "You shouldn't be up here, Lord Alvers.
It's--it's scandalous and completely unacceptable behavior...Why, I don't
think this kind of action would be appropriate even with--with the--"
"Even
with the wild, heathen girls of Ireland, you mean?" Lance mocked, causing
Kitty to blush even further and weakly defend herself, "I never meant what
I said by that, Lord Alvers. I was speaking out of anger...anger that you
personally spurred from me, I might add."
Before
Lance could throw a playfully flippant comeback at her--and he certainly
looked more than happy to do so--the sound of Rahne's voice floated in
from the halls.
"Lady
Katherine, it's time for your daily ride already. Should I come in and
help you change into your riding habit?" the little Scottish maid asked,
causing Kitty's eyes to widen with fear lest the other girl burst into
the room and find the dashing heir of Wessex hanging from her bedroom window.
"Uh...let
me think about it for a while, Rahne," Kitty called back hastily in an
effort to buy some time, before tuning out Rahne's confused murmur and
hissing at Lance, "Please, you must go away. Climb back down and..." Lance
was laughing openly at her distress now, and apparently succeeding with
offhanded ease in wrenching loose the lid Kitty took to great pains in
keeping over her usually mild temper, for in a burst of passion she cried,
"Good heavens, you perverse scamp! Get out now before you ruin my reputation!"
"Lady
Katherine?" Rahne's faint voice, breaking into their conversation, was
beginning to sound more and more curious as she added, "Are you all right,
my lady?"
"Yes,
my fair lady?" Lance echoed mockingly, a mischievous grin curving the side
of his mouth. Kitty gave him a sour glance.
"Oh,
hush up," she bit out acidly, not caring that she was breaking rules of
etiquette left and right in front of this man who was supposed to be her
future husband. Tilting around to the double French doors, she called out
in her maid's direction, "Yes, Rahne, I'm fine!" Turning back to face Lance,
she added with an imploring note in her voice, "Please, Lord Alvers, I
can't--"
"Just
call me Lance," he broke in smoothly. "It's bad enough that for the next
couple of months I'll be bogged down with etiquette around these old-fashioned
Victorian goats; the last thing I would wish for is to have to uphold some
image of refined sophistication around my own wife as well."
"I
am not your wife," Kitty pronounced slowly, concealing with some effort
the surprise coursing through her over the way he'd casually entailed that
they were already married. Lance shot her an impish wink, causing her to
redden slightly over his straightforward behavior.
"Not
yet," he corrected her laughingly, and something about his tone of voice
emboldened her and encouraged her to ask daringly, "Are you implying that
you've come today to set a wedding date? Because I was hoping that you
would have more refinement than to propose while hanging from my bedroom
window, my lord."
"I
said no such thing about marrying you right now," Lance whistled innocently,
causing Kitty to flush pink and turn away. "Would you like me to?" Kitty
nearly fainted at such a proposition.
"Lord
Alvers, I don't wish to continue this conversation any longer," she declared
with as much cool dignity as she could muster. "It isn't appropriate, and--"
"How
long do I have to keep bothering you before you'll relent and call me by
my given name?" Lance abruptly broke in.
"But
I couldn't," Kitty stammered, slightly taken aback by the sudden change
in topic.
"Why
not? Were you expecting me to wait several years before I'd have the audacity
to call you Katherine...or even Kitty, perhaps?" Lance asked slyly. Call
her by the nickname which only a select few of close family and friends
were allowed to use! And they'd yet to spend even a day together so far
in their lives! Kitty wanted to tell him to stop spewing such inappropriate
proposals. She wanted to push him away from her window before he could
complicate the situation any further. What came out of her mouth, however,
was a daring offer of, "If you promise to call me Kitty only when others
aren't around to hear you, then I'll call you Lance under those same conditions."
A triumphant
grin was her only response, and for some reason Kitty found herself smiling
back as well, before a series of timid knocks on her door brought her mind
back to her temporarily forgotten problem at hand, and she turned to Lance
and anxiously whispered, "Now, please go...Lance. I can't keep stalling
Rahne for long, or she'll suspect that something's wrong." Lance was the
picture of devious innocence, before he grinned again to signify his consent.
"Before
I go, however," he whispered back, while Kitty was instructing Rahne to
come in after a couple of minutes, "there's something I have to give you
that I'd been meaning to ever since I came to England." Kitty's eyes widened
in anticipation when she heard those words, and she silently wondered what
he could mean. An engagement ring? What else but a ring could he be talking
about? After all, he had come all the way from Ireland to marry
her this year, hadn't he?
"Lance,
you know it isn't right for a lady to accept jewelry from a gentleman.
Unless, of course..." Kitty reproved shyly, letting her voice trail off
meaningfully at the end. Lance quirked an eyebrow at her when he heard
those words.
"Who
said anything about jewelry?" he demanded, adding teasingly, "I thought
I'd already told you that I hadn't come here armed with a ring and ready
to drop on one knee and spout some romantic proposal--at least not today--didn't
I? Terribly sorry for breaking your hopes and dreams for the second time."
Kitty
huffed insultedly at the mocking tone in his voice, but before she could
get a good pout going, Lance swiftly produced a slender bunch of delicate,
pressed white-and-pink flowers set in green, bell-shaped leaves.
"Why...they're
beautiful," she gasped softly, accepting the pressed flowers and bringing
them up close to admire each delicate blossom in its leafy encasement.
"I don't think I've ever seen them before, though."
"They're
called bells-of-Ireland," Lance explained, and despite himself, an obviously
pleased smile lit up his face at Kitty's reaction to his gift. "I figured
you've probably gotten more than enough roses and tulips from every young
man in England, so I made sure to get you something a little more unique."
A delighted smile dimpled Kitty's cheeks, before she turned her attention
back to Lance and murmured, "Thank you, Lance. They almost make
up for your meanness over the ring." A flash of false disappointment raced
across Lance's features, and he questioned with playful impudence, "What?
Is that all I get, a trifling little speech? Won't you at least grace your
future husband with a thank-you kiss?" Kitty's cheeks flushed pink at those
forthright words, and she clutched her bells-of-Ireland to her heart while
stifling a giggle before embarrasedly pushing Lance in the chest with a
cry of, "Oh, Lance, you're terrible!"
She had never meant to push him so hard. She'd thought it would come out only as a delicate, feminine little tap. And besides, how in the world was she supposed to know that Lance had been hanging so precariously on the jasmine trellises by her window? But as a startled, masculine cry slashed through the air and Rahne finally burst into the room with an uncertain look on her face and a basic apology ready on her lips, the sixteen-year-old Kitty was seen leaning distressedly over her window, a chagrined look splashed over her features as she apparently gazed at some sight tangled in the showy azalea bushes below.
*Author's Note*
Terms
bells-of-Ireland: just like it says in the story, these are pretty
white-and-pink flowers surrounded by large, green leaves that really do
look like little bells. I'm not sure whether they're native to Ireland
or not (I toyed around with the idea of Lance giving Kitty a four-leaf
clover, but then I thought it might be a bit cliché and silly, so
I scrapped it), but I do know that, according to my reference sheet
on the Victorians' meanings of flowers and herbs, bells-of-Ireland are
supposed to signify whimsy, which I thought would be rather fitting, since
eventually under Lance's influence, Kitty would become more whimsical and
daring and less prim and sedate.
Ack, I can't believe how ridiculously long it's taken me to finally write this chapter, and I'm soooooooo incredibly sorry for making everybody wait nearly two weeks for the third installment of this story! Heart of Glass is turning out to be a bigger challenge to write than I'd initially thought it would be, for not only do I have to work out each chapter's plot while trying to keep all the Evo people as in character as possible and yet distinctly Victorian at the same time, but I also find myself pausing and referring to all my bookmarked webpages on 1860's English upper-class society after practically every damn paragraph. Throw in a really hectic week in which all my teachers keep cramming as many tests and essays before the Christmas holidays as they can, and we've got one incredibly late update.
As this fic stands, right now I don't know how long it will take me to write the fourth chapter--I'll try to hammer as much of it out as I can over the holidays, but, after all, us authoresses do have some semblance of a life, and since it's Christmas and I'll be getting my Pirates of the Caribbean DVD this weekend, expect me to go into useless giddy mode pretty soon. I'll try to at least have the next chapter up before New Year's, and if I don't, then you can pelt me with rotten fruit(cakes) or something, lol.
Not many terms or historical footnotes this time, most of the chapter was comprised of conversation, so sorry, no nifty trivia today, which means I'll just get straight to the best part--thanking the reviewers! *Drumroll*
Icestorm162--thanks so much, nobody's called me an artist before. Wow,
guess I'll be a walking egomaniac for the next couple of weeks, lol. I'm
really glad you liked the way I explained Rogue's nickname--I figured she
might need a loophole here; after all, it'd be kind of strange for the
daughter of a baron to be essentially christened "Thief" or "Scoundrel."
Yikes! ^_^
LadyEvils--well, if Kitty'd kept her mouth shut, then it'd be no fun.
I mean, granted she's no Wanda, but still she sort of gets to speak her
mind in this fic--at least when she's really pissed about being stood up,
anyway! Thanks for the info about Kurt's dad, I've really got to start
getting to know my fuzzy blue elf's lineage better!
Sarah--yup, Lance as Lancelot, lol! I actually toyed around with the
idea of Lance being made a knight by Queen Victoria for some brave deed
or another, and then everybody would have to call him Sir Lancelot, but
I figured that would be too far-fetched and ludicrous, so I settled for
making him a marquess's son instead.
Risty--thank you sooooooo much for all that helpful info on everybody's
favorite fuzzy blue dude! Guess now he could be related to the Herzog Bavaria
or something...although really, we just got this big box of Bavarian chocolates
for an early Christmas treat, so now for some reason every time I think
of Kurt as the duke of Bavaria, I keep picturing a blue Willy Wonka! -_-
Firiel11--aw, thanks so much, you're fabulous for liking my stories
and being so nice about it, lol. I'm really grateful that you think so
highly of my historical fiction, especially because I'm still pathetically
new when it comes to writing these types of stories, and I'm always nervous
about making some sort of goofy mistake (you know, like writing in that
the characters were traveling by train when the Industrial Revolution hadn't
even happened yet, or something stupid like that). Hey, since you're good
at history, feel free to point out those kinds of mistakes in Heart
of Glass--I'm really trying to make it as authentic as possible.
Linda Keene--well, I guess it feels earlier than Civil War because
there's no mention of any 1860's technology, like cannons and trains and
all that stuff. But, then again, England isn't at war to begin with, and
since ladies of the nobility weren't likely to have visited any cannon
factories or textile mills, I couldn't really find an appropriate way to
incorporate a Civil War feel to it. I realize that there's a pitiful amount
of dialogue in the first couple of chapters, so I hope you liked all the
gabbling back and forth in this one.
tom--personally, I adore writing Wanda as well, and I always tend to
make her the nonconformist in these types of historical stories--like,
if they're in the antebellum South, then she's the anti-Southern belle,
and right here in Victorian England, Wanda's the girl who'd much rather
be at a hunt or climb a mountain than sit around sipping tea and gossipping
over who's marrying who. Personally, though, I'm much more of a Wanda/St.
John and, oddly enough, Wanda/Lance fan, so sorry about the Todd thing.
I'll see if I can incorporate him into the fic, anyway--maybe he can be
a hermit she encounters while on one of her mountaineering trips, lol.
Just kidding, I know better than to make the tadpole a hermit! ^_^
Kitsune Jagan--hey, glad to know all the descriptions and research
are appreciated; see, when I first started writing this story, I had even
less of a clue about Victorian England than probably anybody else, so I
figured that it would be no fun exposing my ignorance for all of the FF.net
community to laugh at, and forced my lazy butt to do some research (one
site's wonderfully informative, actually, and I use it almost exclusively
for all my research; plus, they've got these gorgeous pictures of Victorian
dresses which were surprisingly pretty). I love Romys, too--I mean, hell,
it'd be impossible not to love them, and just when we were getting
used to the Scogues and Rietros and whatever other pairings, in waltzes
Remy (with a yucky goatee and bowl-cut, too, I might add; if I bring Remy
to England, he'll be coming sans goatee and with long hair, so nyah, Evo
animators! lol) and the Ragin' Cajun instantly becomes Rogue's new guy.
Good luck on your midterms, and you're right, essays are definitely hateful--I
had to write two on Frederick Douglass before December was even
halfway over!
Laureate--aw, well Lance and Kitty are an adorable couple to write
about, so it wasn't that hard. Thanks for the vote of confidence on the
soap opera thing--when I start spinning Who's-the-daddy? and Who-cheated-on-whom?
storylines is when we all have to watch out for, I guess. And yeah, the
Wanda thing with me has always been that she fits in enough with what society
expects of her as a woman, but still finds ways to bend the rules and kick
some serious ass!
Guidi--thanks a ton for the Kurt thing, kind of makes me feel sheepish
for being too lazy to dig up any info on German nobility, especially when
it's obvious that there are people out there who know this kind of stuff.
I think I'll use Duke of Strathearn, since it's closer to what I originally
put; plus, whenever I think Salzburg, I'll be having Kurt running around
singing, "The hills are aliiiiiiiiiive..." (sorry, got a bit carried away
there with the whole Sound of Music bad joke, oops). Hope you liked
this chapter as well.
Monkeystarz--hey, go easy on the hugging--you can send the story into
a hug-induced coma, but if it dies, then I'll be way too lazy to resuscitate
it. Sorry, bad joke. I seem to be brimming with them tonight. Anyway, I
sent you the e-mail (hope you got it), and next time, if you really want
notifications, you can just go to your Author Alert and follow their instructions
to get this story on a sort of waiting list (I'm not sure, I haven't tried
it yet, but how hard can it be, right?)
**edit**--sorry I didn't hurry, but at least I made it, right? On a
side note, of course I know Return of the King came out on Wednesday;
people were practically yelling all around me about how cool it was and
how awesome the ending was and nearly spoiling the whole movie for those
of us who decided not to see it the day it came out unless we were willing
to get trampled by the crowds fighting for precious tickets. As for the
Romy thing, I can't give away too much, but Rogue and Remy's relationship
will definitely play an important role in the future, and as for
my other Lancitty *cringes and ducks head* heh heh, I'd been kind of hoping
people would forget about that--see, I got stuck on that story after Chapter
Four, and right now I'm too lazy and braindead to return to it. Maybe after
Heart
of Glass is finished. Maybe.
And that's another installment of Heart of Glass, finally completed. Hope you all enjoyed it, and please review--they are what inspire me to keep writing ^_^ Toodlong