Bridlewood Manor

by Mitsugi

BACK FROM THE DEAD! (1-2-1) The ongoing saga of a Japanese spy and an American waif, thrown together in a tapestry of espionage, romance and murder in London of the early 1900s, with the fabulous Peacecraft estate as a backdrop for their adventures.

7. Treize Arrives

June 29th, 8:44pm -- Sorry for the delay, but I couldn't get far enough into FFN earlier today to upload this chapter sooner. *shrug* Technical gremlins, nothing to worry about. But if I'm ever delayed like this again, because I can't access this site, I won't break my promise of turning out a chapter on the day I said I would--you can find it on my website if you get desperate. =^_^=

*whoof* This turned out to be a looooong chapter! Better get yourself a donut before you start reading! =@_@= This episode will round out the month of June, which had been mostly filled with setting up various situations and relationships...next month, we actually start doing something with these situations and relationships. =^_~=

Disclaimer: This year, for my birthday, I asked for omnipotent control over the five Gundam pilots contained herein, which I didn't think was too extravagant or outlandish. What did I get? A set of green plastic see-thru picnicware from Zellers. I hope my now-ex-boyfriend puts a little more thought into his next girlfriend's birthday gift. If you want to sue me for control of the picnicware, well, whatever floats yer boat, I guess... =P

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Episode Seven: Treize Arrives "I am always in haste, but never in a hurry." ~John Wesley June 29th, 1901 The most unlikely of suspects was awake long before the rest of the house even had stray thoughts about getting out of bed. Heero knew this by the sound of pots and pans clanking faintly from the kitchen, four floors below him. The noise wafted up the servants' stairwell just enough to trick his drowsy brain into thinking he'd woken up back at the pub, but only for a moment. Sitting up with a yawn and a stretch, he looked over at the other half of the room. Sure enough, Duo was gone, up long before the sun, and had sneaked out quietly enough not to wake the lightly sleeping butler. Amazing... Usually it took three or four death threats to get Duo up in the mornings, and strangely enough, knowing there was a loaded gun in the desk drawer hadn't made a thimbleful of difference. Since today would be something of a formal occasion, the day Count Khushrenada arrived, Heero wore his more expensive tuxedo-style jacket with tails, and white gloves to complete his uniform. It was going to be stifling in that coat today, but protocol was protocol, regardless of the weather. Before he reached the bottom of the stairs, the clanking stopped and Duo's hyper voice was carrying on a cheerfully frantic one-sided conversation with Quatre. "Now, you know where you're going, right? This guy in the market thinks he saw her hanging around Charing Cross Station, okay? She's about so high, short dark hair, and last time I saw her, she had on a dark blue hat with a narrow brim and lots of little pink flowers and stuff on it." "Mmph," Quatre mumbled. Having been kept up long past midnight helping Duo read through every cookbook on the shelf, the poor boy had been so thoroughly worn out that he slept right through his morning prayers and still looked about ready to fall over. Nevertheless, Duo had managed to wheedle him into dressing up in his street clothes instead of his gardening gear and convinced him to go traipsing all over town on some errand. Quatre teetered on the spot he stood, wearing tan cotton trousers, and a shirt and vest in rather flowery colours that could have been explained away by the fact that he was still half asleep. Heero mentally chalked this up as the second unintentional yet careless infraction against the boy's religious sensibilities by Duo. The first was serving a dessert containing gelatin, a food item forbidden under Islamic law, on his first night at the manor. After being informed of his culinary faux-pas, he apologized profusely to Quatre, and had been forgiven, but after the browbeating he received from Heero about consideration for the customs of other faiths, he'd hoped the chef would be a little more circumspect in his treatment of the other residents. It hadn't worked. Duo gathered up a scrambled egg pocket bread off the kitchen table and shoved it into Quatre's hands. "There's your breakfast, lunch is at noon, good luck, see ya later!" He started nudging him unceremoniously towards the back door. "Duo!" Heero barked angrily, practically running across the kitchen. "What are you doing to him? It's not even six o'clock yet!" The chef turned on his heel and glared at the intruder. His eyes were wild and a little glazed. "Relena hasn't found another maid yet! I've got eight hours to find my friend and get her the job before Treize gets here and we all find out the maids are just whiny little wenches who really don't need any extra help!" There was something odd about the way Duo spoke, like he'd been hooked directly into the manor's electricity supply. He quickly went back to steering Quatre towards the door. Heero caught his arm and stopped them both. "You can't send him out in this condition," he said, twirling the gardener around to peer into his half-closed eyes. "Look at him! He can barely stand!" "Well, I can't go, I've got a ton of work to do! And you feel fine, doncha, Quat? Sure ya do!" Duo grabbed the pale hand that held the pocket bread and lifted it to just under Quatre's nose, causing the sleepy boy's eyes to open just a crack wider. "Hmphmn..." Quatre murmured. "Ridiculous," Heero sneered. He walked over to the stove and picked up the still-steaming coffee pot, intending to pour Quatre some liquid wakefulness. "He's going to walk in front of the milkman's horse and cart and get knocked down, or walk into a..." It occurred to Heero that nothing came out of the coffee pot, no matter how far forward he tilted it. "Where's the coffee? "Drank it," Duo said, flitting between the pantry and the work table. "Mrfmml..." Quatre muttered. "All of it!?" Heero gasped, eyes wide. No wonder Duo was bouncing off the walls and talking a mile a minute. "I needed it, okay? I was up really late, and then up again really early, and there's a lot I gotta get done, so stay out of the danger zone!" He was practically flying across the kitchen, flinging ingredients onto the table from all corners of the room. Heero walked up to Quatre with the coffee pot, rattled it to demonstrate that it was empty, and gave him an apologetic look. Quatre slowly processed the sad circumstance, shrugged, took a bite of his breakfast and staggered numbly out the door. With a shake of his head, Heero put the coffee pot back on the stove and walked over to the massive work table, now covered in nearly everything edible that one could imagine. He noticed a piece of paper lying on it, and picked it up mere seconds before a sack of demerara sugar came soaring in from the other side of the room and landed in the paper's place with a sound 'thump'. Heero jumped back in near terror, pressing his back against the cupboards as a bag of flour followed it, missing his clean black coat by an inch. "Duo!" he hollered again. The cook twisted around and gave Heero an exasperated look. "I thought I told you to scram!" He stomped briskly forward and snatched the paper out of the butler's hands. "Gimmie that!" Heero grabbed it back. "What is this? Did you write it this time?" Duo yanked it back again. "Yes, I wrote it! It's my 'to-do' list, now shoo!" Heero whipped the paper away from the chef and glared a warning against any further retaliation. The writing was crude and a bit wobbly, but it was legible. "Shrimp croquettes, Russian salad, boeuf bourguignon, blanquettes de veau, roast duckling with raspberry vinegar..." The list went on for nearly twenty more items; Heero looked them over with disbelief. "You're making all of this?" "Heck no, I haven't decided what to cook yet." Duo folded his arms nonchalantly, wondering vaguely why Heero looked about ready to pass out from shock. "What!?" "Duo, this has to be cooked and on the table today. Not next week, today. You've already sent one member of the staff out looking for your friend when we need him here, you're not sending anyone else out to a restaurant to buy dinner at the last minute when you finally figure out that you're in over your head!" "Shut up! I know what I'm doing!" Duo yelled, grabbing the list one final time and retreating to the other side of the kitchen. "If you wanna be a downer, do it someplace else. For the next eight hours, this is a sulk-free zone! Now, out!" He pointed resolutely at the stairs. Heero rolled his eyes and left, muttering 'baka' and 'gouman' under his breath. I don't know why I'm bothering with it anyway. What do I care if Treize goes hungry? I should be more worried about getting shot in the back than hearing complaints about the food. Maybe Jeffrhyss is right...maybe I really am getting too wrapped up in my cover... He trudged upstairs, hoping to get away from the commotion long enough to go over the dozens of surveillance strategies whirling about in his head, in preparation for the guests' arrival. When the front doors opened that afternoon, Heero would click over to that other mode of operation buried in his psyche, that of a well-trained spy, an agent of a powerful organization which saw Treize as their ultimate threat. For the moment, however, he was still a humble butler, and within an hour of leaving the kitchen, the rest of the house was buzzing with frantic servants, all of whom required his supervision. The morning was frittered away quickly on such benign topics as where to stand when the introductions were made and what sort of fresh flowers to put in the front foyer. ********** The boat from Calais, France to Dover, England was only a few minutes late, which translated to the regulars as being right on time. Once passengers disembarked and collected their luggage, it was only a short distance to the train station, although the very wealthy could make a grand show of packing a carriage to the roof and beyond for the brief trip between ports of call. One such display of opulence was being enjoyed that day by a rather tall and quite handsomely aristocratic man and his fair-haired travelling companion. They had several porters at the train station hopping around madly to get all of their belongings loaded before the train was late, and those that weren't rushing about stood and marvelled at who these rich, powerful persons might be. The gentleman was dressed to the nines in an unusual, but doubtless very expensive, suit of the finest material available. It was all in white, from the top hat covering his auburn hair, to the cape that swirled around his broad shoulders in the brisk wind, down to his white shoes whose shine could blind a man at thirty paces. His left hand guarded a fashionable black walking stick with an ornate handle; his right hand remained casually at his side except for only one occasion when he took a gold watch on a chain from his waistcoat pocket and gave it a relaxed glance. "Industrious, aren't they...these English?" he remarked to his companion. The woman standing next to him wrinkled her nose in disdain. "If you say so. Personally, I'm tired of hearing all about how clever the British are and how well their Empire is doing." She brushed back her long blonde hair with her free hand, looking down on the peasants skittering around. Her other arm was presently the property of a fluffy white and tan cat wearing a diamond-studded collar, whose expression was even more uppity than that of it's owner. "Not to worry," the man reassured her, "a little patience and a lot of planning, and the Empire may soon realize it's best days are behind it." He leaned both hands on his walking stick and smiled, watching the porters running to and fro, oblivious of the treachery at work only a few feet away. "All it needs is a nudge in the right direction, and it will all come crashing down around them." After regarding the many porters for awhile, he noted that one of them wasn't running like the others, but taking his time as if the timetable of the wealthy made little difference to him. The porter was slight, but strong and purposeful, and cast a furtive glance at the man in the white suit when he was sure no-one was looking. The only other characteristic that marked him as being any different from the others was his olive-toned face bearing the wise dark eyes typical of the far east, and his shoulder-length black hair pulled into a tight ponytail under his hat. The man in the white suit tugged the glove off his right hand and snapped his fingers. "You there! Boy! No, not you...the short one..." The clearly asian porter was quickly separated from the rest of the group; he stood like a pillar holding up the roof of the station, staring boldly at the taller man. "Come here," the man ordered quietly. The porter obeyed, coming within a few feet of the one who beckoned him. "Sir?" he inquired bluntly. The voice was not meek and deferential as it should have been, but firm, and with a definite scornful edge to it's tone. Choosing not to notice, the man in the white suit plunged his gloved hand into his pocket and took out a half-crown. "See if you can find us a private car on the train, will you, boy?" He held out the coin, watching the smaller man carefully. The porter took the coin without looking at it, his eyes never leaving those of the giver. "Of course, sir." He turned and disappeared into the crowd with smooth, fluid movements. Once he was gone, the blonde woman turned to her companion with a befuddled, almost miffed expression. "What did you do that for? Private cars on English trains for foreigners like us? Are you mad? Even the station master couldn't arrange that much for us! Why bother with that whelp?" The auburn-haired man grinned at the dear, unobservant lady. "He's no porter, and he has absolutely nothing to do with the trains, that's why. If you hadn't noticed, he's been following us ever since Hamburg." The young lady bristled, and her cat seemed to do the same. "Then why waste your money on a potential spy?" "Because, my dear," the man said, adjusting his white top hat, "I wanted him to know that I'm aware of his presence. I wanted him to know he isn't as clever as he imagines himself to be. He'll keep his distance now." The conductor called for the remaining passengers to board the train, and the pair walked casually across the platform. The blonde woman stroked her content cat's head and back, giving brief thought to the situation. "Unless he doesn't care whether you're aware of him or not," she added. The corners of the man's lips twitched upwards, amused at her sense of strategy. "Quite." Content with their safety for now, they boarded the train with all decorum due to their social position. Outside on the platform, the busy day continued as people milled about on the ground, totally unaware, not bothering to look up and see the strange sight overhead. Seated cross-legged on top of the train, with his hands neatly folded and his hat tucked away somewhere, was the strange asian porter. He sat without flinching as the train pulled away from the station, and only had to duck a tiny amount to clear the first bridge. Whether the man in the white suit was aware of him or not truly didn't matter; he was fated to lead the porter directly to his assigned target. ********** "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir...it's an honour to meet you...it's a delight to make your acquaintance...it's an extreme delight to...no, that's too much." Relena paced up and down the foyer rehearsing her speech and practising her best curtsey. Less than an hour remained until the prearranged time of her uncle's arrival, and she couldn't help but feel a little queasy about the whole thing. Otto finally came up behind her to offer his few but well-appreciated words of compassion, as always. "Would you calm yourself, m'lady? If your uncle is the sort of family-oriented gentleman Lord Peacecraft always described him as, it won't matter to him if you happen to make some tiny error in your introduction." She turned around and clasped her hands together. "You're right, of course," she sighed, "but I just want to make a good impression. I don't want him to think I'm one of these silly girls who live off her family's riches without putting a foot outside into the world. I want to look and sound like I can stand on my own two feet." Otto chuckled. "I'm sure you're worrying yourself over nothing." "Oh, perhaps, but I don't care." She walked gracefully to the window next to the front door and peered out of it expectantly. "Maybe it's because I'm so afraid of being labelled as weak, and that no-one could ever take me seriously that I..." She trailed off, looking intensely out the window all of a sudden. Otto took her silence as something emotionally profound. "Miss Relena...you will be alright..." Relena didn't turn from the window, but her volume turned up several notches. "What is he doing out there?" "Miss?" Otto said with a confused blink. "Out there!" Relena gasped, stepping back from the window far enough to point. Otto joined her and squinted through the glare-filled pane of glass. Creeping along the property line, straight through the hedges as if not wanting to be seen, was Trowa, hunched over and trying to sneak around the back of the house carrying a large, lumpy sack. "He's supposed to be in the coachhouse re-polishing my carriage! What's he up to?" Relena hefted up her formal skirts with one hand and flung the door open with the other, dashing angrily out onto the front porch. "Trowa! Come here at once!" The cinnamon-haired boy froze, then winced. Caught! He knew her Ladyship would be none too pleased to hear that Duo had left preparations for the welcoming banquet until the last minute, and was sending anyone with free time out hunting for ingredients. His mind raced, trying to come up with a convincing story as he headed grimly for the front porch. Trowa wondered exactly how sheepish he looked as he climbed the steps. "I was just taking this out back to feed the horses, miss." Relena raised a suspicious eyebrow and tugged down the corner of the sack, exposing the contents. "And I was unaware that our horses preferred freshly caught salmon to a bag of oats!" She folded her arms as the pieces fell into place rather quickly. "If this is for dinner, it should have been here first thing this morning! What's going on in the kitchen!?" From the way Trowa fumbled for words and grew red in the face, it was obvious to her that something wasn't right. She had Otto steer the guilty lad down to the kitchen, determined to see for herself how the preparations were going. What she saw would have sent a weaker woman into a panic. The scene was absolute chaos; pots were boiling over on the stove, dark grey smoke was seeping out around the door of the oven, Frederick was barking his head off at the pile of potato peels he slipped on, and a fine cloud of flour hung in the air everywhere. In the middle of the mess was Duo, oblivious to the pandemonium and struggling to stir a bowl of pastry dough that was putting up an unusually strong fight. He had somehow conned all three housemaids into helping him, and they whisked around the kitchen trying to contain the disasters. Slowly they realized that Relena was watching and came to a nervous halt, all except Duo. Otto offerred the stunned girl an arm to keep from falling over, but she was too furious to notice. "No...no no no, tell me that on the day of the most important dinner I have ever hosted, for the man I most wanted to impress in all the world, that my kitchen is not in the state it appears to be!" "Your kitchen is not in the state it appears to be," Duo deadpanned, not looking up from his bowl. "Actually it's much worse, but I hide it well. Hey, Trowa! You made it back!" Relena was more shocked than upset that Duo looked up to acknowledge the silent stable lad instead of her angry shouting. The chef brushed flour off his hands and took the sack of food from his faithful helper. "Thanks, man!" Otto stormed over and threatened to singe Duo's head right off using only the heat of his eyes. Unseen by all, Heero tiptoed partway down the stairs, just enough to watch the execution, having been alerted by the shouting. He smirked to himself as Otto bellowed. "Is this how you repay her Ladyship after she graciously takes you into her home!? Look at this mess! Nothing will be ready on time now!" Duo had no qualms about standing toe-to-toe with the huge bear of a man and staring him in the face. "Look, I've got it covered, okay? Don't panic!" Heero watched from the shadows as they argued back and forth; this was precisely what he predicted would happen when it was discovered that the braided idiot wasn't up to the job. Otto had reached his boiling point, and Duo was about to be fired...so why wasn't Heero enjoying the display? I'll be vindicated, Duo will be out of the house, I'll have my peace and quiet back...that's what I wanted all along, right? He thought he had been quite sure that he wanted the meddlesome chef out of his room and his life ever since the boy arrived, but now the sudden, sharp pang in his chest told him otherwise. Heero frowned deeply, not knowing what the odd feeling was, only that it was unpleasant. What's wrong with me? If I wanted him gone, why have I been bothering with teaching him to read? Why didn't I just let him run away the other night instead of chasing after him and... A chunk of reality hit Heero between the eyes; he didn't really want the boy to go, nor did he understand why. He only knew that as Duo defiantly turned his back to the larger man in anger and his well-maintained facade of having it all together began crumbling to dust, he felt a part of him debating whether or not to leap out and come to his defence, say something, say anything... The stifling silence grew exponentially, between the stunned and frustrated staff scattered around the kitchen, and the butler stuck halfway down the opposite stairs, mired in indecision. Not a sound rang from any corner of the room for nearly a minute, until the back door flew open and Quatre came running in with a cheery smile on his face and a young girl's hand clutching his own. "Duo! I found her! She was selling flowers in Piccadilly...uh...Circus..." The gardener and the dark-haired girl behind him stopped in their tracks and looked nervously at the scene. "Is...everything alright?" The chef was the first to move, leaping clear over the table when he saw who Quatre had brought with him. "Hilde!" He swept the dark-haired girl, her poor clothes, and her tray of flowers into a massive hug and twirled her around the floor as she laughed. "Put me down, you goof!" Hilde yelped with glee. Duo immediately complied and pulled her over to stand in front of Relena, who was looking more dazed by the second. "This is the girl I was telling you about, your Ladyship," Duo said hurriedly, "and seeing as how you've got about twenty minutes left to make up your mind, wouldn't it be a heck of a lot easier if you just hired her now so you can get back upstairs and fix your face? Your nose is shiny, by the way..." Everyone started talking frantically at once. Otto was shouting at Duo and getting nowhere, Duo was flashing his big violet eyes at Relena to help make the decision for her, the housemaids began complaining about their workload again, and Hilde was practically on her knees begging to be given a chance. Relena clapped both hands over her ears, while Trowa and Quatre retreated to the far corner near the pantry, not wanting to get any more involved than they already were. Finally, her Ladyship couldn't take any more of it. "Alright! Alright! Enough!!" Silence fell once again upon the kitchen. Relena straightened her dress, took a deep breath, and counted quietly to ten. "Duo, I am extremely upset with you right now. Aggravation like this was the last thing I needed today...but you are right, I don't have long to think about this. You and your little friend have exactly until tomorrow morning to convince me I'm not making a huge mistake by letting you stay." Now the eyes of four official housemaids lit up, and Duo looked suitably, if falsely, humbled and indebted to his employer. "Thank you, Miss Relena! You won't regret this!" Relena touched a hand to her temple, fighting off a headache. "I already do." She beckoned Otto back to her side, looked around the kitchen despondently, and turned to flee. "Bethany, take her upstairs and get her cleaned up, the rest of you, back to work...and Duo..." She made a strange gurgling noise when she looked over at the cooker covered in overflowing saucepans. "Clean up this mess." As their superiors disappeared up one set of stairs, Heero crept further down the other, wanting to get a closer look at this friend of Duo's. The maids were all giggling and gabbing with the new arrival, and Duo threw a mock salute at the spot where Relena had once stood before going back to his pastry dough. Heero found something about Hilde unsettling, adding one more alien sensation to his already confused synapses. He'd felt decidedly strange for the last ten minutes since the fracas began, and when he saw Duo embrace this girl, he suddenly felt worse. Leaving the scene quietly and quickly, he dragged himself and his muddled brain all the way upstairs to his room, to the one thing that might make him 'feel' better. Tucked under the corner of his mattress was a folded slip of paper, a lifeline given to him when he left the watchful eye of Lord Jeffrhyss for the first time. It was part of Heero's default programming that if he should ever feel hopelessly lost because of circumstances or sensations he couldn't understand, that he should read the words of his master, and all would be well again. He rarely thought about it, and would never speak of it to anyone, but the little slip of paper had the power to keep him sane, or so he was told. He sat at the desk and unfolded the paper, desperately seeking the familiar words he had been entrusted with: 'Peace comes from harmony. Harmony comes from oneness. Oneness comes from obedience. Obedience brings about order. Order brings about peace.' Heero repeated the words in his mind until the uncomfortable feeling in his chest subsided. ********** At five minutes to two, Relena was a rapidly changed woman. She stood, proud and smiling, at the end of the front walk, seemingly unaffected by the possibility that dinner would be a disaster. Otto stood on her right hand, struck by how swiftly and completely she had recovered. Behind them were two rows of servants, lining either side of the walkway and facing each other, gentlemen on the left and ladies on the right. Relena wasn't sure which gneder should stand on which side, so she flipped a coin. As long as they looked balanced and fairly tidy, she reasoned, it probably wouldn't matter. The highest ranking servants stood closest to the street, moving back towards those of diminished social importance. From the road to the house, one line was made up of Heero, Duo, Trowa, Quatre and Arthur in that order, and the other line was Doris, Elsie, Bethany and Hilde. Relena had to admit, the new girl cleaned herself up rather well in the space of fifteen minutes, and the lineup would have looked more lopsided without her. Maybe this won't be a catastrophe after all, she thought. Zero hour approached and two very grand carriages became visible down the street. Relena took another calming breath as they rattled up the cobbled road to their destination. The first of the two carriages drew up and came to a halt at the end of the walk, and the footman hopped off the back to open the door for the passengers. The second carriage contained luggage...a mountain of luggage. The door opened, and out stepped a tall man in a white suit, with auburn hair, a charming smile, and rather peculiar eyebrows. He walked delicately up to the blonde girl he'd only seen once before, in an old photograph, and removed his white top hat gallantly. "Relena?" In a heartbeat, the girl forgot all the well-rehearsed phrases appropriate to the occasion and simply said the first thing that entered her mind. "Welcome to London, Uncle Treize. It's wonderful to finally meet you!" She smiled warmly, knowing that it wasn't the most high-class thing to say, but it was enough. "My dear Relena..." In a sweeping gesture, Treize opened his arms wide and embraced his darling niece, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. She brought her arms around his powerful frame, imagining for a moment that she was safe in her father's arms once again. Treize released her, pulled away a step, and tipped her petite face up to meet his. "How you've grown." Relena couldn't help but blush. "I'm glad you're here. This house has been a bit of a trial since father passed away." "Yes...I'm sorry I couldn't make the voyage in time for his funeral," Treize said, stepping back to the carriage, "but I hope I can partly make up for it with a bit of a gift." He gave her a sly smile and held a hand out to the carriage door; a shadow moved inside, and a slender arm snaked out to clasp his hand elegantly. The arm was followed by a young lady in a dusty rose dress, with long blonde hair, lighter than Relena's, and holding a beautiful white longhaired cat. She had the same peculiar eyebrows as Treize had. May I present the Baroness Dorothea Catalonia," Treize announced in a stately voice. "She has come all the way from Italy to make a very important request of you." The Baroness smiled sweetly, although to Heero's wandering eye, there was something oddly frightful about her face. Perhaps it was just the eyebrows... "It's a pleasure to meet you, your Ladyship," the girl said smoothly, fingering a gold necklace with seven pearls. "When I heard from your uncle about how difficult things must be for you, I simply insisted on joining him on his journey to see how you were." "Oh, how thoughtful!" Relena squealed. "And if there's no one presently occupying the position, I'd very much like to offer you my services as lady's maid." She scratched her cat affectionately under the chin. "That is, if you don't mind sharing me with Anna-Maria here..." Relena could barely contain her excitement. Having a proper lady's maid would bump her up several rungs on the social ladder. "I would be most honoured, Madam Baroness, thank you!" Another sweet smile graced the newcomer's features. "Please call me Dorothy, m'lady." Heero flinched mentally. An Italian noblewoman with obviously high connections and stature, lowering herself to being lady's maid to a spoiled brat English teenager? Something about that sounded very wrong, but by the perfectly calm looks on everyone else's faces, Heero could tell that only he found it strange. He mulled it over while more pleasantries were exchanged. As the servants were presented to the guests one by one, they each bowed or curtsied in turn. Duo was tempted to do both for a few laughs, but decided not to press his luck with the practical jokes until after dinner, at which time he knew his fate would be sealed anyway. Heero simply nodded politely to the Count with a very blank expression; the longer Treize went without knowing why Heero was there and who he worked for, the better. Confrontation was not an option, yet. Otto, Relena, Treize and Dorothy all went inside to start the grand tour of the mansion, leaving the mountain of luggage to be tended to by those remaining. Duo and Quatre excused themselves from the extra labour and jogged quickly back to the kitchen. The chef had a great deal of work ahead of him before dinner...and Quatre had his own reasons for wanting to be indoors. It took seven of them close to an hour to unload the carriages of the dozens of trunks and cases they held. As the reins cracked and the horses jostled back to life, pulling the carriages away, Heero was alone on the front lawn with Arthur and a few stray suitcases. He walked wearily up to the door, eager to get out of the midday sun, but had to stop when Arthur didn't automatically move out of the way. Heero looked up at him; the old man was staring across the street at something, and he did not look pleased. Heero turned his head and followed Arthur's gaze. Across the street stood a young man in a peculiar uniform decorated with brass buttons and imperial crests, about Heero's age and height. He was leaning casually against a high stone wall with his arms folded and his legs crossed at the ankles...and his slanted asian eyes were aimed directly at Heero. The butler was ready to set the suitcases down and answer this unspoken challenge, but Arthur stepped in between them before he got the chance, silently motioning for Heero to get back in the house. Both men sensed equally that the boy's presence across the street was not a friendly one, but only Arthur had the good sense to leave it alone for now. Keeping in mind that he had more important matters to attend to indoors, Heero was inclined to trust the older man's judgement. Locking eyes with the asian youth one last time, he went calmly through the front door with Arthur close behind. The strange boy in the porter's uniform walked away without any fuss. ********** After dinner, Heero staggered from the little room off the dining area down to the kitchen, convinced that, judging by what he had just heard from Relena and her guests, he must have had too much to drink and wasn't hearing properly. When he reached the kitchen, he decided he must have hit his head and given himself a concussion as well. The kitchen was spotless. All the other servants, minus Arthur who had gone back to his potting shed as usual, and minus Otto who was allowed to eat with the aristocrats, were seated lazily around the kitchen table in front of empty plates, showering the chef with praise. God only knew how, but dinner was a triumph. "I kept telling them not to panic, but did they listen to me? Nooooooo," Duo crooned with a crooked grin. "I still don't know how you did it," Quatre said in awe, "this place looked like a war zone a few hours ago!" "This 'ere's the best food we've ever 'ad at Bridlewood, and I've been 'ere nigh on twenty years!" Elsie added enthusiastically. "Oh, I agree, well done, m'boy," Doris chimed in. Duo flung his feet up on the table and laced his fingers together behind his head. "It was nothing, really. Just part of the magic that is me." He gave the maids a comic grin that sent them into another fit of laughter. Finally he turned his head away from the many admirers to look up at Heero, who had come to stand just off his right-hand side. "And what did the Count have to say for himself?" Heero gripped the back of an empty chair, as if the words would knock him off his feet the moment they left his lips. "He said...that it was the by far the finest meal he'd had since he attended the Masterchef competitions in France six years ago." He felt dizzy, but didn't fall over. News of the Count's approval sparked off a fresh round of compliments from the others, and Duo soaked them up like a sponge. Soon, however, it was time for everyone else to get back to work, and they all shuffled off to their own corners of the house, leaving the chef and the butler alone in the kitchen. Duo couldn't stop grinning. Heero pulled out the chair and fell into it, hands raised in defeat. "Very well...I give up. How did you do it?" Duo wouldn't have ordinarily revealed his culinary secrets to anyone, but for some inexplicable reason he felt driven to make Heero proud of him; that was his real motive for sitting through his nightly literacy lessons. "Well, I don't automatically trust recipes, y'see, there's too much room for stuff to go wrong by accident, I mean no set of ingredients is exactly alike, right? So I taste everything over and over while I'm working, that way I know it's turning out right." He folded his arms casually, waiting for a reaction. It wasn't until then that another sharp chunk of reality struck Heero; the chef was the only one without a plate. "Is that all you've had for dinner? A few bites here and there while you were cooking?" That would explain why Duo had been living in the lap of luxury all this time without gaining any weight. "Well, I've never had that much of an appetite, couldn't afford one where I grew up. 'Course everyone in the alleyways thought I was a bottomless pit, what with all the pies I stole...but at the most I'd have a slice for myself and leave the rest on the windowsill of the closest orphanage." Duo's eyes glazed over with a sad and faraway look, and the smile faded. "Guess it was my way of making up for the fact that I had to steal to survive. I didn't like it, but hey..." Heero looked over the sad, thin figure next to him. The boy had a self-sacrificial quality about him quite unlike anything he'd previously witnessed in a man, and he seemed to trust Heero instinctively, more than anyone else in the house. It made him think, and soon he decided. Without speaking, Heero rose and stood closer to the boy, who looked up at him questioningly. He reached down and shoved Duo's feet off the table, then walked over to the stove. Duo sat up straight and fiddled nervously with the end of his braid, wondering if he's said something to upset his teacher. Behind him, Heero took a clean plate out of the cupboard and dished out leftovers of the delicacies still sitting in various pots and casseroles on the stovetop. He set the full plate, with a knife and a fork, in front of Duo and sat back down again. "Eat." Duo blinked in surprise, so used to not enjoying the fruits of his labour that he thought himself completely unworthy of them. "Huh?" "I'm sure you remember that I have another job besides this one. It's dangerous, but very important work that requires a sharp mind, sound concentration, and the ability to keep it a secret, especially from those under this very roof." Heero thought it over again quickly, one last time, but he was sure it was the right choice. "I can't have an assistant who's falling down from hunger all the time." A bright smile appeared, and two amethyst eyes danced with excitement. "Assistant? ...me?" Heero nodded once and let the information sink in. It could work, and he might actually need the help now that there were two guests who seemed less than trustworthy. Jeffrhyss wouldn't approve, of course, but he didn't need to know about Duo any more than Duo needed to know about Jeffrhyss. Being a spy was all about keeping secrets. He stayed at the braided boy's side until he'd cleaned his plate, and made the usual arrangements for his reading lesson later that night. Between the late dinner and nightfall, Heero was watching Treize closely according to instructions, but part of his mind was always away, drifting back to his violet-eyed assistant and wondering how much to tell him about his true purpose at Bridlewood.

~~~~~~~~~~

Next, in Episode Eight: A chance article in the morning newspaper puts Quatre in grave distress, causing him to reveal his secret to his friends, but can the rest of the household be trusted to know about his past or his uncertain future?

...and if you think you know his secret, you're in for a shock, 'cuz I ain't lettin' him off as easy as just having a secret identity, OH no! =^_~= muahaha... Boy, some trip, huh? Duo doesn't eat enough?? =@_@= It could only happen here, folks! And that slip of paper with the five phrases on it...that won't become important until later, but remember where you saw it! =^_~= Now comes the hardest part, picking the date for the next episode...*looks at calendar* How about July 6th? Give everyone time to recover from late-night partying. *kusukusu* Oh, and the notes for Episode Six are up too! Baibai!