Disclaimer: My current defence against any corporate lawyers who might decide to beat down my door and present a "cease and desist" order from BanDai is that I've been working on this for a WHOLE YEAR now, and if they even tried to shut me down, they'd have hordes of angry fans swarming all over them and plucking out each and every one of their body hairs, one by one by one. Right guys? *looks expectantly at her readers* ... *crickets chirp* ... =o_o;= *gulp* Uh...right? =D
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Episode Fifty-Five: Changing of the Guard "Impossible is a word only to be found in the dictionary of fools." ~NapoleonJuly 31st, 1902 Over the last several days, an unusual trend was developing regarding the morning mail. The amount of it coming in through the front door had just about tripled, and the excess was all addressed to Duo. The chef was highly secretive about the unwavering stream of thin packages wrapped in brown paper, and always squirrelled them away in the bedroom where he could browse through it all in between mealtimes. That morning, Heero finally got a good look at the pile of paperwork, spread out all over the writing desk, as he changed into his best suit for the reading of Lord Peacecraft's will. As he tied a fresh stiff white collar around his neck, he glanced over Duo's shoulder, who sat shuffling through papers and gnawing on the end of his pencil. "Are you going to let me in on the big secret?" Heero asked. "Take a number," Duo said, flipping open one of many slim books and perusing page after page of black and white drawings. Heero squinted at the pages and failed to properly identify them. "What are those?" "Catalogues!" It sounded like a happy word, but Heero couldn't see what was so wonderful about it. He walked over to the bed, scooped up his waistcoat, and slipped it over his shirt. "What are they for?" "Lots of things!" Duo twisted around in the wooden chair, waggling the pencil around between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you know how much time I spend every day shopping for ingredients? Too much! All I ever see is the farmer's market, the fishmonger's, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, et cetera, et cetera...and if I ever want anything for myself, there's no chance to even look for it, see?" Heero buttoned his last button and shrugged in a noncommittal sort of way. "I suppose." "Well, a lot of other people have the same problem, as it happens. They either haven't got time to shop, or they're housebound and can't get out at all. So they invented mail-order! Anything I could possibly want, I can have delivered right to the front door! It's like a fairy-tale kingdom!" Mildly intrigued, Heero walked back over to the writing desk after picking up a red satin Ascot tie and slinging it around his neck. There was an impressive array of catalogues in front of Duo, many from fancy shops all over London, making him wonder if the chef wasn't overestimating his net worth. Then Heero noticed that several more were from outside England, even outside Europe. A slew of American addresses jumped off their printed pages, and as if disbelieving what he saw, Heero picked up one book at random and inspected it more closely--the Sears-Roebuck catalogue. "How did you get these?" Duo smirked. "You have your contacts, I have mine." "You're ordering things from the United States? How do you even know they'll deliver to other countries?" "Oh, you'd be surprised how nice people treat you when you tell them you're an orphaned foreign national that's been repeatedly abused by the legal system." "Isn't that a slight exaggeration?" "It's as much true as it's untrue, but I don't make those decisions," Duo said defensively. "I haven't lied to anybody, I mighta just...left out a few details. If anyone wants to infer something slightly askew from the truth, that's their problem." To illustrate, he handed over a personal letter from the head of one of the American companies who had offered him a catalogue, praising him for upholding the spirit of democracy and such-and-such. Heero sighed. Outside, the weather mirrored his sentiment as it started to rain a little harder. The higher echelons of the family were gathering downstairs to head out to Marlowe's office, and it had been drizzling since before dawn, casting a grim pallor over an already dismal occasion. "Want me to order you an umbrella?" Duo asked, reading his mind to a small degree. "It's only six to eight weeks delivery!" Heero smiled and shook his head involuntarily, donning his pure black jacket and choosing a pair of plain cufflinks from the basket on the dresser. "We'll all be back for lunch, most likely." "Sure thing," Duo acknowledged, stuffing some paperwork into an envelope. "What do you think's gonna happen if Relena loses the house?" Heero was silent for a bit. "Don't know." "Think we'll have to move?" "Depends." Before the mood in the room could get any more grim, Duo bounced out of his chair and showed Heero a nice crisp page in one of the local catalogues. "Well, I've got us covered if we do. See this? A brand new set of matching luggage, this month only, ten percent off." Heero smirked again, taking the book and flopping down on the bed with it. "What if you order this, and we don't have to move after all?" "Ah. See, I've got that covered too." Duo turned around and took two envelopes off the desk, then showed them to Heero. "There's two order forms right there. I'll only send one of them in, depending on what happens with the will. If we have to go, we get matching luggage. If we get to stay...then...I get a little unbirthday present to myself." He smiled at his own ingenuity. Heero looked at both envelopes, one marked 'M.L.' for 'matching luggage,' and one marked 'B.P.' for 'birthday present.' It was a sorely needed reminder for Heero that the temporary birth date he had chosen for Duo was fast approaching. "Let's not make any plans until we know whether we have a home or not." "Enough of that doomsday talk," Duo said, picking up another catalogue and flopping on the bed next to Heero. "Take a good look at all this! There's a world of opportunity out there, and it all comes with a money-back guarantee! Who needs security when you've got dreams like this?" They lolled around and laughed for a long time, long enough that the rest of the family left without Heero, though they didn't even know he was inviting himself along. Just then, finding out the fate of their home wasn't as fun as looking at all the pretty pictures and fantasizing about all the wonderful things they could treat themselves to if they were as rich as Relena, or as powerful as Treize. **********Though Heero would have been the last one to complain, frittering away those additional few minutes with Duo had made him slightly late getting to the offices of Mr. Marlowe's law firm, and he could hear the proceedings already in motion as he approached the door to the second-floor reception room. "...'being of sound and disposing mind and memory, and not being actuated by any duress, menace, fraud, mistake, or undue influence'..." Marlowe's voice droned pleasantly enough, but it was laced with an underlying tone of restless anxiety, and only Heero knew why. The butler quietly swung the door inwards, and one or two people near the back of the room turned their heads to look at the slightly soaked young man coming in out of the rain, but that was all the attention he got. It was a room at least three times the size of Marlowe's formal office, set up with two columns of chairs three chairs wide, about half of them full. The door was centred between the columns, and in front of the opposite wall was Marlowe himself, seated behind a large oak desk, surrounded by piles of paper and reading from a freshly-unsealed document. Without causing any interruption, Heero shut the door and took a seat in the last row. "...'do make, publish, and declare this to be my last Will, hereby expressly revoking all Wills and Codicils previously made by me.'" Heero noticed that Relena, Dorothy, and Quatre were all sitting together in the first row on the left hand side facing the desk, and each youngster on either side of the potential heiress grasped a different hand for moral support, which Relena squeezed tightly in nervous anticipation. Treize and Otto sat in the front row on the right hand side, and though Heero couldn't see it, he was sure there was a smug smile ready to pounce on the Count's features at the soonest opportunity. Treize knew something about the will that almost no other living person did, that much had been clear to Heero since he read the correspondence between the half-brothers a year ago. The Count's confidence was most unnerving. Hoping his own case of nerves was coming across as a simple dry throat, Marlowe took a sip of water before resuming. "'I direct my Executor, hereinafter named as Robert Marlowe, to proceed with the execution of this document only in the presence of my son, Milliardo, failing which, the Executor may only proceed after receiving proof of his death.'" Relena's gaze shifted down a few inches as Marlowe produced the infamous death certificate and held it up to the persons in attendance. "Sufficient documentation to that effect has been received from His Majesty's armed forces, and this office is satisfied that the requirement of proof has been met." In all honestly, he wasn't personally satisfied, especially in light of his past conversations with the young butler and chef, but legally, his hands were tied. "'If any beneficiary of this Will, including any beneficiary of any trust established in this Will, shall die within sixty days of my death or prior to the distribution of my estate, I hereby declare that I shall be deemed to have survived such person'..." While Marlowe continued speaking in legalese, Heero glanced around the room at the other possible beneficiaries. They were mostly middle-aged and above, all upper class, and generally didn't look as if they needed any further augmentation to their wealth. There were also two military men in bright red uniforms with gold braiding, both balding and with nearly identical waxy moustaches. A few people Heero recognized from the neighbourhood, but the rest drew definite blanks. "...'shall be authorized to carry out all provisions of this Will and pay my just debts, obligations and funeral expenses. I further provide my Executor shall not be required to post surety bond in this or any other jurisdiction, and direct that no expert appraisal be made of my estate unless required by law.'" After a long stretch of fiduciary jibber-jabber, Marlowe caught Treize looking at his wristwatch in boredom. As punishment, he deliberately slowed his speech a bit during the next section, which named Otto as Relena's legal guardian until she was either married off, or reached the age of twenty-one, whichever occurred first. Treize stifled a yawn. Relena saw it, and looked very perplexed. From his vantage point on her left, Quatre also saw it easily, and scowled. Otto didn't look pleased either. Marlowe gave Treize a piercing glare, and flipped over to the next page. "We now come to the disbursements... 'The following payments shall be made to the institutions named below: To St. Katherine's Hospital, ten guineas per annum...to The Salvation Army, five guineas per annum...to the Home for Deserted Mothers and Infants'..." Heero had never been to such a ceremony before, and had believed that it would be educational at the very least, but it seemed to take forever. Lord and Lady Peacecraft were patrons of a long, ponderous list of charitable societies, a credit to their civic-mindedness. It made him think about what sort of people they must have been, and what sort of people deserved to benefit from their good fortune. It made him think about what the costs would be if Treize got his hands on the estate, for even if the charitable gifts were guaranteed by law, Treize would almost certainly refuse to recognize that law, and every last penny would surely disappear before Marlowe could distribute the money rightfully. It also made him think, with a note of panic, that he had no plan of action whatsoever to stop it. "...'to be paid in a lump sum to the following: To the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society, twenty-five pounds...to St. Monica's Home for Children, thirty pounds...to the London Philanthropic Society, fifty pounds'..." Heero then wondered exactly what he was doing there at all. There's no solid evidence that Treize will collect anything, let alone the entire estate. Even if he attempts to take the house by force, the authorities wouldn't stand for it, and a handful of his foreign thugs wouldn't do him any good. And if it's just the gold he's after, there's no telling whether or not it's even listed in the disbursements. He could very well walk away with nothing...but he hasn't doubted himself for one instant. "...'to the Destitute Sailors Asylum, twenty pounds...to the East-End Juvenile Mission, twenty pounds...to the Nightingale Fund for Training Nurses, twenty-five pounds...to the Covent Garden Theatrical Fund'..." What if he does pull off some massive legal trickery right under our noses? Heero wondered. What am I supposed to do, threaten to shoot him in the head if he doesn't scratch his name off the list of beneficiaries? I was never trained to fight legal battles...if anyone could think of a way to stop whatever he's got planned, it would be Marlowe, not me. I could subdue him physically within five seconds of making any threatening moves, but how do I fight words and documents and official seals? How could I help? "...'to the Heatherington's Charity to Aged Blind, fifteen pounds...to the Times Crimean Fund, fifteen pounds...to the Westminster Jews' Free School'..." Heero looked over at Relena, who was as yet unaware of his presence, sitting quietly and patiently without fidgeting, like so many other girls her age would have behaved by then. She was so trusting of me when she gave me her father's correspondence. So many clues in those letters, so many hints that Treize has known the contents of his will all along, and not one scrap of concrete information to help her now. What if she loses everything? She could never support herself in the real world... "...'to the Society for Relief of Poor Pious Clergymen, ten guineas...to the Royal Humane Society, five guineas'..." We'd all be out in the street, Heero admitted to himself. The younger ones could probably find positions in other homes, but Doris and Arthur would have a terrible time finding work at their age. From what I've heard lately, we'd all be hard-pressed to find another household as lenient as the one we've got. That money from Lord Jeffrhyss was supposed to fund emergency escapes, but maybe we should make it available to everyone...it should stretch until they can all get back on their feet...Relena would have to learn some sort of useful trade, unless Marcus could be seriously persuaded to get married at his age... "...'to the Female Missionaries to the Fallen Women of London, ten pounds'..." Strange...when did she become my mission? "...'and lastly, to the Middlesex Society for the Reformation of Discharged Criminals, five pounds.'" Heero smirked. If he could have had his way, all Treize would have gotten would be that last five pounds, after serving a murder sentence. The charitable disbursements were concluded, and the personal gifts began. A watercolour painting went to a couple who lived next door, some sporting equipment went to an old friend from His Lordship's bowls club, and various other trinkets, knick-knacks and tokens of affection were bequeathed to nearly everyone in the room. Relena couldn't pay proper attention to that particular segment, for she was still mulling over the long dissertation on her father's generosity. I never knew he was so involved, so socially responsible...but I should have known, since I recognize almost every one of those names. I remember...he would take out the big book of accounts two weeks before Christmas every year, and write cheques for a whole hour. I was too young to understand...and now it's far too late to tell him how...how proud I should have... Relena lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut; she was fiercely determined not to cry, but it was difficult, especially after realizing that she never appreciated her father for the benevolent gentleman he was. Mr. Marlowe needed another sip of water for what was to come next, the fate of Bridlewood Manor itself. This was the meat and potatoes that everyone secretly wondered if they'd get a bite of. "Now we come to the final disbursement," he announced solemnly, "that of the remainder of Lord Peacecraft's estate, which includes the primary residence of Bridlewood Manor, its lands, goods, and personal effects, and the secondary residence of Sutherby House, its lands, goods, and pers'--" "If I might interject," Treize interrupted, "this includes everything physically located on said property as of today, does it not?" Marlowe paused, glaring suspiciously. "...yes...why?" Treize smiled and leaned back in his chair, waving it off with one hand. "Nothing, nothing, never mind, carry on." Marlowe repositioned himself in his own chair and cleared his throat. "...'lands, goods, and personal effects. The primary beneficiary is hereby named as Milliardo Peacecraft'...but for obvious reasons, we must proceed to the list of successors as enumerated by His Lordship." He took Milliardo's death certificate from a short stack of papers and set it down in an empty spot on the left-hand side of his desk, then turned over to the next page in the will. A list of names was there, and after reading them quietly to himself, he took a file folder out of the same stack of papers and laid it open for easy access. What followed was as bizarre a spectacle as anyone in the room had ever seen. One by one, Marlowe gave the name of the next person in line to inherit the estate, someone closely related to the family in one way or another, and for each name, he produced a matching death certificate from the file folder, which he stacked neatly on top of Milliardo's. Morbidly, Heero guessed that Treize had been very busy of late, systematically eliminating his competition. There were gasps and shocked looks all around the room, but no one was more devastated than Relena, for not only had her entire extended family dropped off the face of the Earth, but her own name still had not been mentioned once. After several minutes of puzzled faces and death certificates, Marlowe ran out of names, and read the next section to himself, folding his hands on the desk. With no warning, he turned to Treize. "Do you, sir, affirm your identity to be Count Treize Khushrenada of Schaffhausen?" Treize smiled smugly. "I do." Otto, Quatre, and Relena all looked at him very strangely. Dorothy looked straight ahead, and just kept patting Relena's hand with a blank expression. "Are there others present who can vouch for this gentleman's identity? If so, please indicate with a show of hands." Following Marlowe's odd instructions, a smattering of people raised their hands, including Dorothy. Otto had never actually seen the man before his London visit, so he abstained from the vote. Relena stared at the side of Treize's head with an intense and incredulous gaze. What's going on? Next, Marlowe turned to Relena. "Do you, miss, affirm your identity to be Relena Peacecraft, second-born and daughter of Lord Peacecraft?" "Of course!" she said quickly with surprise. "Are there others present who can vouch for this young lady's identity? If so, please indicate with a show of hands." Otto raised his hand, looking shell-shocked, along with ninety percent of the room behind the front row of chairs. Most of them could remember her birth quite clearly. "Thank you," said Marlowe, prompting the sea of hands to drop back down. He lifted up the last page of the will and read aloud from a complicated section. "'If no other beneficiary from the above list can be located, my estate shall be dispensed according to the following conditions: If, at the time of this reading, Count Khushrenada, my maternal half-brother, is proved to be deceased, then the remainder of my estate shall be passed down to Relena in its entirety, regardless of her age.'" "W-what does that mean?" Relena squeaked. "Why should it matter whether he's--" "Please, m'lady," Marlowe said with sympathy, "there's more...if you'll allow me to continue. 'However, if Count Khushrenada lives, then the remainder of my estate shall be passed down to him'..." Startled gasps flooded the room. This was unthinkable. "...'less the sum of one thousand pounds to be given to Relena. This may only occur under the strict condition that Count Khushrenada may not enter, approach, or reside in England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, or any colony or territory under rule of the British Empire for the rest of his days, or else forfeit his inheritance.'" Relena's eyes bulged as the flabbergasted guests behind her grew louder in their mumblings. She squeezed the hands in hers even tighter, and Quatre quickly put an arm around her shivering shoulders. "'The Count must also refrain from having any contact with Relena at any time or for any reason, whether by written word, telegram, telephone, messenger, third party, or any other means not expressly covered by this condition, or else forfeit his inheritance. Furthermore, if Relena should die or become sufficiently incapacitated as to be unable to manage her own affairs, regardless of her age, and if such incapacitation is judged to be caused by anything other than disease or accident during the course of the Count's natural life, he shall also forfeit his inheritance, and the lands, goods, and personal effects contained in my estate shall be turned over to the Anglican church.'" The meeting room erupted into angry shouts, but no one was quite certain to whom they should be directed. Several were arguing amongst themselves over what demon could have possessed His Lordship to put such an insane clause into his will. Others were irate that such a large chunk of British property was being gift-wrapped and handed to the foreign devil in the front row. Still others were shaking their fists at Marlowe, ready to shoot the messenger, and he calmly rubbed his eyes with one hand as they hurled their insults at him. Most passionate of all was Relena, who had let go of the hands offered at either side of her and scooted all the way forward to the edge of her chair so she could gesture wildly with open palms, insisting that there had to be some mistake. Otto and Quatre were equally vocal, and surprisingly, the gardener's normally soft voice was the sharpest sound in the room. Only three guests were silent. Treize, of course, was too busy patting himself on the back, and Dorothy just wanted it to be over with so she could collect her cut of the fortune and get on with other matters. The third quiet one was Heero, who only took a moment to understand exactly what was on Lord Peacecraft's mind. He made a mental note to discuss it with Duo and the others when he got home, while it still was his home. "Please, everyone, calm yourselves!" Marlowe said forcefully with his hands in the air. "If that's what it says, then there's nothing to be done about it!" The shouts and grumbles continued until Treize spoke up for the first time since the revelation, employing his most velvety, self-absorbed tone of voice. "Kindly excuse me, sir, but this bequest includes everything that sits within the property line of Bridlewood, both above and below ground?" Marlowe sighed. He could have sworn the Count had already asked that question. "Yes, as the property is legally described in Schedule C, so that the cellar may be counted as part of the residence." "Then I would like to confirm the inclusion of approximately one thousand bars of gold that are currently buried in the back garden next to the carpenter's cottage." The room responded in whispers. None had ever heard of such a quantity of gold being owned by the Peacecraft family, or any other family on their humble little street. Marlowe fiddled with his pen and wondered why he went into law instead of medicine. "Yes...yes, that would be included." Treize leaned back and looked very pleased with himself. By now, Relena was so stunned that she could barely draw breath, but Otto was in total control of his faculties, and the same possibility was on both their minds to varying degrees. "You planned this from the beginning...didn't you?" Treize slowly swivelled his head around to look at Otto and gave him a reptilian smile. "Modesty forbids me, my good man." "No..." Relena's tiny cry of anguish drew Treize's attention on a reflex. She looked just about ready to cry as her lower lip fluttered around each weak syllable she spoke. "It's not true...tell me this isn't what you really came for...tell me..." The Count paused to brush a piece of lint off the sleeve of his executive blue suit, taking an excess of time to answer. "Nothing personal, darling...it's just business." That was enough for Otto. With a mighty roar that sounded vaguely like 'You swine!', he grabbed Treize by the lapels, dragged him up out of his chair, turned him around and slammed him down backwards into the top of Marlowe's heavy oak desk, sending a cloud of scattered papers flying into the air and sending Marlowe himself rolling backwards where he and his chair crashed into a bookcase. Dorothy and Relena instinctively scrambled to the same corner and crouched next to him. Quatre grabbed Marlowe's umbrella, held it up with both hands like a fencing foil and stepped in front of the girls to shield them. The rest of the room all jumped to their feet, knocking over many of the clunky wooden chairs, and either backed away from the ruckus or tried to join it. The two military types in particular were foremost in trying to pry Otto off the Count as he shouted threats in his face and practically tried to rip his head off. The only one who didn't move was Heero. He wasn't sure why he was rather enjoying just sitting there being a spectator, nor was he sure why he was craving a big box of that picture show popcorn. It was a rarity to witness a violent brawl and have the option of simply not participating. Besides, they all looked like they were doing splendidly without him. There seemed to be no quick and easy end in sight for the riot, nor was it getting any quieter. The noise must have been leaking very readily into the hallway, for someone outside the room, someone who had been looking for a certain room with a certain Mr. Marlowe in it, found the right door with no trouble at all. Heero was the only one calm enough to notice that the door opened suddenly, and into the room, dressed nearly all in black with a cross around her neck, walked a nun. Heero raised both eyebrows at the nun's sudden appearance, and really didn't know what to think. The middle-aged woman's face poking out of a black wimple took one look at the chaos, extracted what looked like a little wooden pipe from somewhere in her dark robes, put it to her wrinkly lips, and blew on it sharply. There was shrill, high-pitched whistle that flooded not only that room, but all the rooms adjacent to it, whether their doors were open or closed. It made everyone stop what they were doing and clap their hands over their ears, rendering the muddled mess of people relatively harmless. It was a superbly efficient method of crowd control. The nun, who must have been partially deaf to begin with, drew her hands back inside her robes and addressed the gathering, once she felt the ringing in everyone's ears had probably stopped. "Who among you is Robert Marlowe?" she asked in an austere, dignified British voice. Marlowe slowly stood up and peeked out from behind Quatre and the umbrella, holding a nervous hand in the air. "Um...I am...Miss...um, sister..." "You may address me as 'Mother Superior'," the aging nun declared haughtily. "I oversee a small group of Benedictine sisters engaged in missionary work overseas. We have a delivery to make...a very precious piece of cargo...and we have been instructed to deliver it here." There were confused looks all around, and one look of relief from Treize as he picked himself up off the desk and put his feet back on the floor, smoothing his hair back into place and straightening his cranberry tie. The worst of his day was yet to come, however, and it began as the nuns prepared to make their delivery. The Mother Superior took out the whistle again, and everybody flinched, but she only gave it three quick, small tweets as a signal. Many footsteps approached, and a large gaggle of nuns shuffled in. They were short and tall, thin and pudgy, young and old. The older ones wore black, the younger ones wore white, and two who were no more than Relena's age wore half-wimples and simple dresses of gray. In their midst, towards the back of the pack and supported by two of the taller and stronger sisters, was a man...a man as tall as Treize with long, fair hair that partly obscured tired blue eyes that had seen enough of war...a man in a torn khaki uniform of the British army...a soldier. Relena heard gasps and whispers, and crawled out from the corner to see what was going on. When she finally set eyes on the weary soldier, she inhaled sharply through the numb fingers that quickly flew up to cover her mouth, and her eyes stuck wide open. The fair-haired soldier pulled himself away from the holy sisters who helped him up the stairs and managed to take a few steps forward, limping noticeably. Relena rushed to cover the distance between them and fell into the man's arms, letting everyone watch as they squeezed each other and lightly cried. Heero still hadn't moved. Death has been extraordinarily kind to Milliardo Peacecraft, he thought wryly. At the other end of the room, Treize's face, which had been infinitely smug only minutes earlier, contorted into a blood-boiling scowl as he saw all his hard work evaporate in a heartbeat. It was only then that he glanced to the back of the room and saw Heero lounging casually while the rest of the group was frozen in a dramatic tableau. He caught the boy's eye after a time and glared at him with fiery eyes. You did this to me, you...you... It was just as well that Heero couldn't hear the entire thought, because it couldn't have been repeated aloud in polite company, but he got the jist of the look on his face. He locked eyes with Treize, pointed to himself with an innocent look that seemed to say, 'Who, me?' and then shrugged broadly. In the middle of the room, the brief reunion between the Peacecraft siblings came to a convenient pause as Relena stepped to the side and clung to her brother's left arm, pressing her watery eyes into his sleeve. The two military men approached, and the one with slightly more hardware on his royal red uniform was the first to speak. "This is indeed an unexpected pleasure," he said. Milliardo saluted the man, who returned the gesture. "Brigadier Hamilton...I have a full report to make on my disappearance from the frontline." His voice was rich and smoky, but terribly tired. "It can wait," said the Brigadier gratefully. Now the young soldier walked past his superiors and stopped in front of the battered Count. Nobody knew exactly how much he knew about what Treize almost succeeded in doing, but he didn't look pleased. "And you were just leaving, were you not? Dear uncle?" The two men glared venomously at each other and simultaneously uttered a few bitter syllables that would have sparked another raucous argument, but Relena stepped between them. "No!" she shouted, putting a hand on her brother's chest. "Let me." She put on her serious face and turned around, fixing an icy stare on Treize. "Otto?" "Yes, m'lady?" "Telephone the house, and have the staff remove all of the Count's belongings and place them out in the street." Otto puffed up proudly. "At once, m'lady." "And you," the girl spat, this time at her uncle, "I'm going to give you an hour-long head start. I want you out of my house by the time we get there or I'll have you arrested for trespassing." Treize spun around and leaned on Marlowe's desk. "They can't do this to me!" he hissed at the stone-faced solicitor. "The reading was finished before he arrived! I have precedence!" Marlowe's only response was to pick up Milliardo's death certificate off the floor, hold it up, and tear it to pieces. He enjoyed it. Treize huffed in frustration and shoved himself off the desk and past the Peacecrafts, avoiding everyone's eyes. He stopped short of the imposing wall of nuns and noticed Heero a second time, now with both arms slung over the backs of the chairs on either side of him. The boy looked up, gave the count a mock salute with his near hand, and watched him leave. That was the first time that the entire room noticed Heero's presence at the reading, and Relena made particular note. Once Treize was gone, however, all that was forgotten. Relena hugged her brother again, and all the friends and acquaintances gathered around to hear the tale of Milliardo's miraculous reappearance. Forgetting protocol, he and Otto shared an impulsive bear hug, after which the tired young man was inundated with question after question from everyone in sight. Somehow, since it was still Marlowe's room, he managed to silence them all and ask all their questions at once. "Sir...how is this possible?" he said through a broad smile. "How did you make it back alive?" Milliardo looked back at the flock of nuns. "I have the Benedictine sisterhood to thank for that. There was an attempt on my life at Boschbult, and I was forced to abandon the ranks and flee north, up through the German colonies, hitching rides with merchants and nomadic tribes. The assassins nearly caught up with me there, and I turned west into Central Africa, far enough that I hoped I might make it back into British territory. That's when they found me." Relena turned to the Mother Superior with an infinitely grateful gleam in her eyes, replacing the tears. "I don't know how to thank you all! This is a miracle!" "It was the least anyone would have done in similar circumstances," said the Mother Superior. "Our order sent us to minister to various peoples of Africa, and our time there was already at an end. It was a simple matter to see your brother safely to the Mediterranean and then back to England." "But what a marvellous stroke of luck!" Marlowe commented. One of the youngest sisters perked up excitedly. "Oh, but it wasn't luck, it was Sister Mary He--" "It was the guidance of the Lord," the Mother Superior corrected sharply, giving a pointed glare to the young one, who cowered. "He heard the prayers of the faithful, and through us, those prayers were answered." Heero thought that exchange was particularly interesting, and wanted to hear what the young one in gray had to say. "Still, I insist you be our honoured guests for the evening," Relena said. "I won't take no for an answer! In fact, you're all invited! This calls for a celebration!" Cheers abounded among the guests, plus a few excited twitters from the nuns, and a cold, professional face on the Mother Superior. Heero slipped out while they were all making plans, intent on beating Treize back to the manor, just in case. **********By the time Heero got home, he guessed that Otto must have made that phone call pretty quickly. There was a growing pile of luggage accumulating on the front walk, empty luggage with all the clothes and shoes piled on top of it. The housemaids were carrying Treize's belongings out in shifts and dumping them wherever they felt like it, and the ultimate undeserved mercy towards the pile was that the rain had stopped. Trowa and Arthur emerged as well, each carrying one end of a steamer trunk, which was dumped with the rest. They all had a perfect rhythm and a clear grasp of what to do, so they didn't miss a beat when Hilde spotted Heero stepping out of a cab, and happily bounced over to him, babbling at top speed. "Heero, you should've been here! You won't believe what happened! Relena's brother showed up a little while ago with a bunch of nuns and they asked where she was and we told him she went to the see the lawyer and that's where they all went and we just got this phone call from Otto and he said to--" "I know, I was just there," Heero said calmly, patting her shoulders to slow her down. "I take it Treize hasn't arrived yet?" Hilde shook her head. "Uh-uh." Heero nodded, deciding that they had matters well in hand. Just then, Duo came jogging out the front door carrying Shadow in one arm and hanging a brown paper shopping bag from the other. "Heero, I swear, I don't know how it happened. She was only out of my sight for five seconds. An hour and a half, tops." Heero blinked. "How what happened?" Duo draped Shadow around the back of his neck and shoulders, then opened the paper bag and held it out. Heero leaned forward and looked inside the bag, then recoiled and looked back up at Duo. "What is it? ......or what was it?" "The Count's best dressing gown," Duo said. "When we got the phone call and started carting everything out, I found her with it in a closet down the hall. She must've...I dunno...gotten her claws into it...by accident, of course..." Duo tried to keep a straight face, but it was just too much. His sides started to shake, and fought heroically against a slowly creeping smile. "It's not funny," Heero said matter-of-factly. Duo stared at him, snickering. Gradually, Heero caught the infectious grin and started snickering too, though he tried very hard to suppress it. Before he could totally humiliate himself, he struggled one last time and successfully put his stoic face back on. "It's not funny!" Duo saluted. "Yes, sir! Not funny, sir!" That was pretty snickerworthy in itself, but before they could get started a second time, a carriage drew up with Treize inside. Duo quickly jabbed Hilde in the arm and pointed back at the house. "Run and get that plate out of the oven, would ya?" "Okay!" She went inside right away. Everyone stopped working and stared as Treize disembarked. He glared at them all, and gave instructions to the driver to start loading up. There was only one person he wanted to have a word with, and as he approached that person, the staff went back inside for the last of the unwanted goods. Treize walked up to Heero and stopped short of arms' length, for everyone's safety. He clenched and unclenched his jaw several times, lividly, until he was finally able to speak. "How.....did you do this?" Heero shook his head with that same innocent look. "I wish I could take the credit, honestly I do...but this had nothing to do with me." "Come off it! You've been watching out for something like this to happen for months!" "That's right, watching," Heero agreed. "Not doing. My mission said nothing about actively trying to stop you. I was sent to watch you, and that's exactly what I did. You self-destructed...and I watched." While Treize fumed, motionless except for his ever-clenching jaw, Hilde came back with the plate Duo requested. Duo beckoned her over to where Heero was standing, and stood in front of Treize to make a small presentation. He smiled. "I brought you your dressing gown in this bag so it wouldn't get dirty from being tossed on the ground," Duo said, handing him the paper bag by the twine handles. "Thank you," Treize growled in his lowest possible voice. "Unfortunately, it met with a little accident between your bedroom and the front door." Treize opened the bag, looked at the shredded corpse of gold satin and red velvet that lay inside, and ballooned his eyes to their full diameter with rage. He then looked directly at Shadow, who licked her chops. Duo snapped his fingers once, and the plate Hilde carried appeared in his hand. It was full of beef stew, mashed potatoes with gravy, coleslaw, and cherry cobbler, all together on the same bone china dish. Duo held it up with tremendous dignity. "And I took the liberty of keeping your lunch warm, because I thought you might want to take it with you and nibble on it on the way to wherever it is you're going." While Treize was still holding the shopping bag open, Duo reached out and tipped the whole plate of food down into it, scraping it down to the very last morsel with the solid silver fork. He exhaled deeply with a wide smile. "Bye." It was a very happy chef that sauntered back into the house. Treize looked down at the bag and lifted his head away with a nauseated sneer, swallowing uncomfortably in disgust. Nobody could have topped that performance, so Heero and Hilde went back inside, just as the other servants were stepping out with the final dregs of Treize's belongings. Not one of them could ever be sure, but it would be rumoured for a long time to come that the Count stood there holding the tattered remains of his finest dressing gown, drenched in miscellaneous foodstuffs, and whimpered, just a little. **********That evening, the ballroom at Bridlewood saw the strangest of impromptu parties that it was ever likely to see. On one end of the room were Relena, Milliardo, and all their father's friends from the neighbourhood, drinking and dancing to the tinny tunes of the phonograph, and at the other end was a group of nuns standing in a cluster, being constantly reminded of what they were and were not permitted to do. At first, there wasn't a great deal of interaction between the guests, but as the night wore on a bit, the Mother Superior lengthened the leashes of her girls and allowed them to socialize, provided that they work some religious content into as many conversations as possible. At one point, they even broke into song, regaling the family with lively African tunes in four-part harmony. The fair-haired siblings stuck to each other like glue, and Milliardo had just as many questions about the state of the manor as Relena did about Africa. "How have you managed all this time with a skeleton staff?" he asked her, freshly cleaned up and wearing a fern green jacket and tan trousers from his father's wardrobe. He'd gotten a little bit too tall for his own clothes while he was abroad. "Where did you find them so quickly? And where did the rest of them disappear to? I haven't seen Pegan yet either, did something happen to him?" "There were severe problems with the staff almost immediately after father died," Relena answered, her white beaded gown throwing sparkles of light from the chandeliers all over the room with every breath. "These replacements might have been hired in haste and desperation, but they've done their very best for us, and I couldn't have asked for a more loyal group of people." She fingered the rim of her sherry glass, thinking back on why she had been in such a hurry to hire replacement staff at all. "I remember how excited I was to learn that Uncle Treize was paying us a visit...I was frantic over making a good impression on him..." Milliardo coiled a comforting arm around his little sister's shoulders. "You mustn't think of him any more. He's gone now." "Yes, but he won't have gone far," Relena countered. "Lady Une will almost certainly give him a place to sleep until he figures out what to do next...which reminds me..." Her eyes flitted about the room and landed on Dorothy, who was sitting several yards away from the action, looking stiff and uncomfortable. "Would you excuse me a moment?" Relena broke away from her brother's side for the first time all day and was quickly replaced by a freshly-washed Arthur in his Sunday suit, who greeted Milliardo with his umpteenth bear hug of the night, which he warmly returned. When Dorothy saw Relena headed towards her, she stood up, wrapping the same lock of hair around her nervous, twitchy fingers over and over again. This is it, she thought, she'll have me packing my bags as well any minute...only I don't have any other house to run to. She's bound to suspect me by now, any sane person would. Treize and I arrived together. She could think just about anything by now. It's a wonder she didn't throw us both out at the same time. They stood face to face, and neither spoke. Relena regarded her friend very oddly, with an expression that seemed to be calculating and tallying something at a rapid pace. "Why don't you have a drink with the rest of us?" she asked finally. Dorothy was taken aback. "I...I don't understand...surely you must think--" "Dorothy, that uncle of mine has caused enough trouble in my house, and I'm not going to let him ruin a single moment more. Do you understand that?" Surprised, the Baroness looked to either side, then nodded. Relena smiled. "Good. Besides..." She took a step closer, gently removed the lock of platinum hair from the girl's worried fingers and smoothed it out with long, luxurious strokes. "...we don't need him anyway. We're still friends, aren't we?" Her voice took on a commanding tone, as if daring her to disagree. Dorothy shivered involuntarily at the deft, gentle handling of her hair. "...of course, m'lady." "Good." Relena walked away in total confidence, and Dorothy was actually a bit frightened by her for the first time ever. She could have demanded a recounting of her entire involvement with Treize right from his initial invitation to join him in England, but she didn't. It was almost as if she preferred not to ask the question. Dorothy pulled herself together at last and went off in search of a sherry. **********In the prep room near where Dorothy had been sitting, surrounded by champagne glasses and plates of nibbles waiting to be distributed, Heero was telling the other boys all the hideous and marvellous details of the morning meeting, with help from Quatre, affording the greatest attention to the wisdom and forethought of Lord Peacecraft's will. "He knew he was about to die, and he knew his brother would be the cause," the butler was saying. "He also knew that if Treize was successful in killing off the rest of the family, that would be evidence enough that Relena would be no safer, so the will stated that if Relena and Treize were the last survivors, it would be better to just give him the estate as a bribe to leave her alone. The restrictions were such that he couldn't have lived in either house afterwards, but I suspect that Lord Peacecraft was hoping he would sell up and disappear with the money, or simply take the gold and run, anything to keep his daughter safe." "I know just what he must have been feeling," Quatre observed. "Better that she live poor than die rich." Trowa nodded. "Makes sense. With her brother gone, Treize would've gotten what he wanted either way." "Geez...poor guy," Duo said. "A most honourable sacrifice," Wufei added. "Pity she might never know about it." "She smarter than you think," said Quatre. "She'll figure it out...just give her time." They all pondered it for a minute or two, after which Duo finished off assembling two trays of hors d'oeuvres and shoved them to the opposite side of the table. "Okay...these are ready to go, whoever wants to take 'em." "We'll go," Quatre said, and he and Trowa each picked up a tray and went back into the ballroom to hobnob. Wufei wasn't in the mood for a party, and hadn't been invited anyway, so he turned in early. That left Duo and Heero standing around, wondering what they could reasonable do with their small pocket of quiet time, remembering, of course, that there were guests in the next room. "Well...guess if we're staying...I won't be needing this." Duo took one of the envelopes out of his pocket, the one marked 'M.L.' for 'matched luggage.' Heero took it from him and regarded it wistfully. "Send it in anyway. You never know when we might want to take a vacation." Duo smiled and took the envelope back, then hugged Heero tightly but briefly. "Good to have a home to come back to, though, isn't it?" A sudden surge of laughter rolled in from the ballroom. "You'd better get back in there before they start rioting," he joked, handing him a tray with six glasses of bubbly. "Why don't you take a break?" Heero asked, nodding his head in the direction of the ballroom. "Nah, it's full of penguins in there. I got enough of them in the orphanage." Heero shrugged. He took the tray and returned to the ballroom where he found that the 'penguins' were getting ready to leave anyway, and he still hadn't found out what he wanted to know about them. He quickly passed around the drinks he carried and followed them at a discreet distance as Relena began showing them out. "I wish you could stay longer," she said. "We appreciate the offer, but the hour is late," said the Mother Superior as she led her troops out of the ballroom. "Please extend our farewells to your brother, whenever he re-emerges. We shall find our own way out." "Of course. I don't know where he's disappeared to now, but we're both very glad you stayed as long as you did. Thank you again." Relena parted with the group and went back inside where the action was, and the nuns continued on down the hall, the stairs, and out to the foyer. Heero followed stealthily and listened to their modestly growing volume of conversation. The young ones enjoyed chattering with each other, and said many peculiar things, things which stuck firmly in Heero's ears and echoed to infinity. He watched them file out the front door, waited, watched Otto stroll by a moment later and lock the door, and then he was alone. What did they say? I couldn't have heard them right... Heero sat on the grand staircase, facing the door, in almost total darkness except for the glint of the streetlights shining through the windows. There were three things about the nuns that captured his attention, three things that he couldn't get out of his mind. The first was that several of them spoke with very pronounced Irish accents. The second was that they all wore crosses that appeared identical to Duo's. The third, and most astonishing of all, was that when unrestricted by their Mother, a few of the sisters spoke of the one who told them who Milliardo Peacecraft was, and how to find him--a woman of the veil named Sister Mary Helen. Mary Helen. No...it's too outlandish to be real. It has to be a coincidence. If it were a coincidence, and if he were certain of it, Heero would have no qualms about telling Duo everything he had heard and seen, because it wouldn't matter if it weren't true. Nevertheless, he hesitated, and he didn't know why. It's just a coincidence..... He sat on the stairs for ages upon ages, wondering what to do, if anything. He was unable to come to a conclusion. **********The remaining guests were still having a grand time well into the night, looking at, of all things, Relena and Milliardo's baby pictures. Since the real Milliardo had wandered off again, presumably to be alone with his thoughts, nobody thought much of it, and they continued to drink and laugh in his absence. He was much less alone than anyone might have imagined. News of the Khushrenada scandal had spread widely throughout the city's gossip network, and had reached the ears of someone living under a borrowed roof and desperate for some good news. That person made their way to Bridlewood guided solely by starlight, and was the soldier's most anxiously awaited visitor. She was waiting for him in the gazebo out back, the same place where they had said their goodbyes so long ago, when he announced his desire to fight for his country and was whisked away into the military fold, not to be heard from for many moons. She wore the same blue dress, and picked the same yellow flower from the garden and placed it in her short, dark hair, and leaned back against the railing in the same way, watching her lover march steadfastly away from the lavish house to meet her. As he reached the wooden steps, he paused, and their eyes touched in mid-air. The woman smiled. Milliardo climbed up the steps, even with the scars of battle that made him limp, and felt stronger than ever as his arms closed around the one he still loved. Ignoring the few tears of joy that escaped her control, Lucrezia reached up and brushed a few silken strands of golden hair away from his face, and framed his chiselled features with a lingering hand. Milliardo's hands floated up to cradle her head, and she closed her eyes slowly, exhaling a long-held breath thickly laden with pain, ecstasy, and everything in between. The gossamer threads that bound them together even over thousands of miles tied themselves tight around the lithe lovers, and pulled them close together for a single, shivering, rapturous kiss. Now the homecoming was complete. |
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| Next, in Episode Fifty-Six: After a lengthy delay, the Coronation of King Edward can wait no longer, but the regal and opulent ceremony isn't the only exchange of power taking place, as the boys find out when they see familiar faces in the crowd. |
*does happy dance* Be honest, you knew some of that was coming eventually, deep-down, right? =^_~= History buffs already know the date of the next episode, but I don't mind telling the rest of you--it's August 9th, a date that shall live in infamy...or somesuch. *grin*