Chapter Seven: Remonstrances

Live in the moment, my child, hold on

Blink just but once and the world is gone

Teatime was the most uncomfortable half hour Carl had ever spent. He watched Hannah, still dressed in musty black satin, as she went about pouring the tea, scraping a very thin layer of butter onto a thick slice of bread, ignoring the cakes the butler had set out. He didn't blame her for this, the cakes looked rather desolate. But the sour face she turned on him, the stiff, stilted amnner in which she responded to his awkward chatter— these he took some slight offense at, and felt justified in doing so, for they seemed calculated to offend.

"The weather's been very unpredictable," he said angrily. As usual when he was around Hannah, his emotions were muffled by a healthy does of awe and exasperation, like a thick blanket of dust, and so instead of actually sounding angry he sounded as though the wather were an uncooperative child, a child who belonged to someone else so he didn't dare yell at it. "One would think we'd had quite enough rain, but no— "

His sister stared at him with obvious distaste. "I must say, I admire your coolness, Carl Edward Mayne Hampton."

"My—"

"Coolness. Yes. I'm amazed that you can sit there at my table calmly consuming everything in sight—"

Carl guiltily put the remaining half of a desolate cake back on his plate and swallowed.

"— and your behavior at Mother's funeral was absolutely disgraceful!"

"Why?" asked Carl, stung. "What did I do?"

"Everyone could tell you felt no real grief for the woman, your mind was wandering constantly throughout the service."

"Well, I—"

"And all the men and women who knew you as a small boy, who came to express their sorrow at your loss, you ignored them!"

"I didn't recognize most of them, Hannah."

"And poor Miss Hawkins! My best friend, comes to speak to you and gets soundly snubbed!"

"Well, I—" said Carl again, and paused. "Wait a moment. Hawkins, did you say? Penny Hawkins?"

"Yes!"

"The Penny Hawkins?"

"Yes?"

"And she wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes!"

"She used to pull my hair in school," said Carl dismissively, taking another bite of ecake.

"What— Carl, that was years ago!"

"It hurt," said Carl calmly.

"Surely you can't still hold a grudge over some childish fooling around."

"She even punched me once."

"Carl Hampton—" said Hannah warningly.

"Punched me. Right here." Carl patted his chin reflectively. "Took me four days to fully recover from t hat one."

"Carl Edward Mayne Hampton—"

"No, no, if ever a woman hated me, it was Penny Hawkins. I don't believe she'd ever want to exchange a civil word with me. Or I with her, for that matter."

His sister had gone dead silent, and he calmly observed the dislike in her eyes before saying, "May I have some more tea?"

She ignored this, too. "And what of your friend," she said slowly, every word dripping with acid. "The only one you did speak to and you— behaved yourself very improperly."

"Oh, that? Not to worry, sister, it was only Miss Gentle, and old friends are allowed to embrace one another in a friendly manner, are they not?"

She stood up slowly, her hand clenching on the handle of the ornate teapot.Carl watched it and knew somehow that if it hadn't been a family heirloom it'd be flying at his head right now. Thank heavens, he thought, for family heirlooms.

"You were disporting yourself in that ridiculous manner with Tamerlaine Gentle?"

Carl considered the pros and cons of lying at this point, along with the fact that he wasn't actually allowed to do that, and said, "No, I wasn't."

"You just said you were."

"Oh, that's right. Then yes, I was."

Sisterly strangulation would have been a certaintly if it weren't for the timely intervention of the butler, who arrived and said stiffly, "A gentleman to see you, ma'am."

Hannah paused, hand still on the teapot. She narrowed her eyes at Soapes and all three of her chins quivered. "A gentleman? Who?"

"He would not give his name, ma'am."

"Well, what does he look like?"

The butler, who appeared to be perfectly used to being asked this question, answered readily, "Oh, you won't mind the intrusion, ma'am."

"I won't?"

"No, not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, madam."

"Well then," she said warmly, stood and edged her way out of the chair. "Excuse me, brother."

Carl said, "Why, did you sneeze?" somewhat automatically. Hannah swept out the door and all was silence for a few minutes. Carl clinked his silverware rhythmically against his plate, then began to design Van Helsing's new weapon, using the pristine white tablecloth as a drawing board.

He'd gotten quickly immersed in it when the banging of doors sounded, causing his protuberant ears to perk up. He lifted his head and looked intently at the door.

A voice rang out, one familiar to him of old: "I asked for Mr. Hampton! I can understand you making a mistake, but the Mr. Hampton I'm looking for is about a hundred pounds lighter and slightly less obnoxious!"

Carl heard the fainter sounds of his sister's remonstrances, and grinned slightly to himself. No indeed, if the caller had been a gentleman, she wouldn't have minded. Gabriel Van Helsing was decidedly easy on the eyes.