Author's Note: This is my first Treasure Planet story, and since I had yet to write a romance fic, I've decided that that's what this is going to be. Why Sarah Hawkins? Because I felt like it, darn it! And anyway, I like writing. Guess who you'll see she gets paired up with, if it happens at all! laughs evilly Ah well... read it, and be gentle. My writing style has been affected greatly by the large amount of noise that has polluted my house. And I don't suppose I'm THAT witty, though I take claim to a small well of it... Ah well... It'll be... interesting, I assure you. Read and Review, if you are kind!
Disclaimer: Treasure Planet, and anybody connected to it (other than the characters I have created on my own) belong not to me, but to Disney. I am borrowing them for my simple amusement, and have no intent to gain any profit from this story.
"Mrs. Hawkins? Mrs. Hawkins, is something wrong?"
Anthony Bronson leaned his head in through the open door of Sarah Hawkins's room, a genuinely concerned look taking his Canid features. One large hand clutched the wooden jamb of the entryway, keeping his balance, the other's padded fingers wrapped about the curved handle of a sconce. His feet remained without the chamber; Anthony Bronson was not without manners and refused to enter his superior's room uninvited, especially not at night after closing.
Sarah stood motionless in the chamber, her back only visible to Anthony, stiff with a sort of frightened tension. She seemed to be staring at her window.
"Mrs. Hawkins?" Anthony repeated softly, his brow furrowing. "It's me, Anthony. Are you alright?"
"There's a letter," Sarah answered suddenly, not bothering to turn to the person she spoke to.
"Excuse me...?" The Canid asked himself the space to lean in a smidgeon more.
"There's a letter," Sarah said again, turning finally to face Anthony. There was a strange expression taking her fair face. "There's a letter sitting on my window sill." Sarah took a small step to the side, and gestured toward the casement, where Anthony noted a rectangle of white sitting innocently upon the polished brown of the ledge.
"A letter!" Anthony echoed, further entering her room without setting foot inside. "What kind of a letter?"
"I don't know," Sarah answered, glancing back at the envelope. "I haven't looked yet."
"Well, why not?" Anthony asked anxiously.
Sarah looked at Anthony silently, her brow arched in an expression unfamiliar to the woman's countenance. It was an unusual thing for Anthony to act in any way anxious.
Anthony did not seem to note the expression. "Don't you think that when you've gotten a letter it's a good idea to open it and see what's inside?" He leant in further, a vaguely leading expression on his face. "Come now, Mrs. Hawkins, why not take a peek?"
"Well, Anthony," Sarah began slowly, mulling the young waiter's suggestion over in her head, "I didn't look inside because it's suspicious..." A small grin twitched at the corners of her mouth. "And, don't you think that when something's suspicious it's a good idea to leave it alone?"
The Canid took a moment to think this over. "No, not really," he said at length. "If it's suspicious, I would actually examine it further... I don't think it would be a good thing to leave something distrustful to its own devices. Bad might come of it."
Sarah laughed. "Bad might come of leaving a letter alone?"
Anthony blushed in embarrassment. "Well, yes, you know, it could be possible; it really matters on what type of letter you get, though I... I did not really mean what I said in that way..." Anthony grimaced, obviously not too used to tripping over his own words. He looked to the side as he spoke, trying to avoid Sarah's strange look. "If you think about, taxes and such things can be quite dangerous if you leave them be, but...I meant...you understand what I meant, didn't you?" He looked at Sarah almost pleadingly. "Because, if you didn't, I'd be more than glad to explain it to you, though I doubt... AHHH!"
Here, Anthony quite lost his grip on the door post (what with his palms becoming quite sweaty and all) and near tumbled head over heels into the room. He fell forward suddenly, yelping all the while, and tripped onward, running for a few moments before his body nearly collided with the ground. He caught himself with his free hand before that could happen, though, and propelled his body upward with one foot, arching his mass over his head. Within seconds, his feet landed sharply before him. With a disconcerted oof his bottom greeted the floor, knocking the wind temporarily out of him. Despite the discomfort he felt, it was a lucky thing that he ended up sitting on his rump in relative shock, other than lying flat on his face in pain, though it was doubtful that he realized that at that moment.
Sarah stood before him, blinking down at him in surprise. Though Anthony was a very adept person, it was strange how acrobatic her waiter seemed at that single moment, flipping over himself. She perused that expression that his face held, a mixture of fright and the same "what-in-the-name-of-all-that-is-holy-was-that?" look that someone who had just seen a bullyadous flying by their window wearing a bowtie and a lady's hat would've had. Then, slowly, she let out a giggle that was either brought about by his unforgettable expression, or the bullyadous-based image that it evoked. Gradually that slight snicker evolved, loudening and intensifying, until it transformed flawlessly into a genuine laugh that sparkled amusement in Sarah's eyes. Anthony remained on the floor for a long moment, the hand holding the candle shaking quite badly. It took him a while, being too preoccupied with his throbbing buttocks, but he soon came to realize that his employer was laughing quite openly at him, and a crimson blush took his amazingly pale face.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hawkins," he apologized, his face slowly turning red. "I'm usually not so clumsy, but I guess I lost myself for a moment and... Oh dear, forgive me, Mrs. Hawkins, I've entered your room!" Anthony scrambled suddenly to his feet, nearly burning himself with the candle that he had almost forgotten, took a moment to brush himself off, and made a stiff, discomfited movement toward the door.
Oh dear, what a ruckus he was making! He hoped that she wouldn't take this too much into account, it was quite out of his character... he was usually quite adept at his movements (though the general awkwardness and social anxiety were a normal thing). And those who were lodging in the Benbow! He hoped he hadn't raised too many of them... the last thing he wanted was for Mrs. Sarah to be going through the trouble of bad business, and all on his account.
Sarah watched Anthony make his tense getaway, shaking her head, her laughter abating but her smile remaining, waiting until he was just before the door to make her approach.
"Don't worry, Anthony, don't worry!" Sarah said, following him and putting an unconcerned hand on his shoulder just before he exited the room. "It's nothing," she added smilingly. She lead the flustered Canid back into her room. "Why don't you stay for a moment? I think it would be a lot safer for me to look at the letter with someone around, what with the possible badness after all..." She giggled at the disconsolate look on Anthony's face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head.
"It's alright," Anthony said, regaining his regular composure. That ever-existing smile came upon his face, a familiar kindness softening his momentarily clumsy features. "I had made quite a fool of myself," he muttered, bowing his head for a moment, as if begging for clemency, and then tucked his hands behind his back politely.
Sarah gave Anthony a short smile, then led him back to the window which held on its ledge that letter of mysterious content. Anthony was always strange to her in that regard. He never seemed to lose that polite manner, never for a moment seemed to mislay his self-possession in such a fit of ineptitude as he had just an instant before. To be truthful, this was only the second example of any lost equanimity on his part that Mrs. Hawkins had witnessed of late. Anthony Bronson was a highly capable young Canid, probably due for much higher occupations than a mere waiter. But that was what he had applied for not more than a month ago, and that was the job that he was given, and the job that he held astoundingly for the past four weeks.
Sarah seated herself at the window, beside the place where the letter sat. Anthony took a silent post at the wall, standing beside the window and Sarah.
The young woman did not make any move to touch the envelope; instead, she took a few moments to further examine the suspicious packet that had found itself upon her ledge. It seemed a normal note, though the crisp, immaculate exterior was uncanny. Upon the point of its flap was a circle of red wax, into which an elaborate seal had been embossed. One of its corners was tucked beneath the window's wooden paneling.
Anthony watched as Sarah stared at the letter, and cleared his throat in gentle encouragement. Sarah glanced back at him with a questioning eyebrow lifted.
"Well, just a small peek, Mrs. Hawkins, if you're too anxious to look at the whole thing," he suggested lightly, rocking back and forth on the heels and balls of his feet.
"I've never seen you like this, Mr. Bronson," Sarah told him. "When have you acted so excited?"
Anthony's polite smile broadened minutely. "Well... it's an exciting manner."
"Opening a letter is exciting?" The innkeeper let out a somewhat sarcastic laugh.
Anthony pursed his lips at the reaction, and put a finger to his mouth, as if weighing what words he might use to rejoinder. "Opening a letter," he began pointedly, "that my superior is frightened of."
"Not frightened," Sarah corrected, shaking a finger.
"Oh?" Anthony muttered, giving her a strange look.
Sarah crossed her arms at the sardonic tone in her employee's utterance. "The word is suspicious, Anthony."
The Canid nodded in understanding, but put a large hand over his mouth as if to stifle something. Sarah did not miss this action, and inquired upon it, her tone somewhat annoyed.
"Well..." Anthony started, his tone apologetic, "I just don't understand what there is to suspect about it. It looks innocent enough from my viewpoint."
"The point is, Mr. Bronson," Sarah began, "that I keep my room locked at all times during the day, up until the time I come in to rest. I've got a few important documents that I'd like to keep safe."
"Mrs. Hawkins, I believe that a window has two sides," Anthony pointed out, gesturing toward the outside, where the roof and its metal shingles could be seen, sloping downward to the riveted walkway below.
"And, I believe that I sleep on the third floor," Sarah shot back. She returned her attention to the letter that remained upon her sill, its wax seal staring up at her almost seductively. "It's either got to be something very important or very dangerous for someone to risk a nasty fall to get up here and stick it under my window." She broke the glance, shaking her head. "You understand my thinking now, don't you, Anthony?"
Anthony nodded gently. "Yes, of course, I understand how this would be some cause for alarm..." He pushed himself off the wall that he had been leaning against and moved to stand in front of Sarah. He knelt before her, picking up the crisp white envelope, and, with the air of some gallant knight of old, presented it to her, bowing his head in respect. "I do believe, though, that it would be wise for you to open it."
Sarah once again assumed a surprised expression, though this seemed much more in-character than Anthony's earlier antics. She gingerly pulled the letter from his large paws, and sighed, once again confronting the letter face to face.
"I suppose you're right," she muttered. Anthony stood up, his polite smile still intact, and seated himself beside his employer, leaning over her shoulder as she began to unravel the note. Sarah ran one graceful finger beneath the flap, and then slowly broke the seal, flipping the envelope open. The top crease of a folded sheet of parchment presented itself, and Sarah took it softly and eased it out of its casing. She passed Anthony a glance, and the waiter nodded back at her, beckoning for her to continue. Sarah returned to the note and unfolded it slowly, as if supposing something would leap out once it was opened. But nothing came to greet her, nothing but a few words, written in looped, calligraphic writing.
"Well?" she heard Anthony ask as her eyes glanced over the cursive. "What does it say?"
Sarah squinted her eyes, the words a bit difficult to make out for its show. She began to read slowly.
Oh, how enamored can a man like me
Who holds such echelon that is my own,
Be for a woman beautiful as thee
Whose heart love can not easily be sown?
So hard fell you for one who came before,
And harder fell when left he for the wild.
But for your loving eyes may I implore?
My ardor their blue shine made as their child.
So here a poem I set on your sill,
Where polished wood a bed for letter's made,
That note that holds my feelings and my will,
Inscribed with words in ink my heart had laid.
And here you see affection written down,
That hopes your love it might wear as its crown.
"Ah!" Anthony said once she had finished. "I see!"
"See what?" Sarah asked, turning the paper over at arms length, signifying her confusion. "To be truthful, I can't make head or tails of this thing..."
"Oh, Mrs. Hawkins!" Anthony exclaimed, sounding a bit disappointed. "Can't you see? It's a love note!"
"A love note?" Sarah repeated in disbelief. She let out an incredulous laugh. "Why would I get a love note?"
"Apparently, Mrs. Hawkins, there is someone out there who..." Anthony took the letter from Sarah's hands and squinted at it, as if trying to read it with trouble. "...who... who loves your eyes and... and hopes that you might love them back..."
"You understand that gibberish?" Sarah inquired in amazement.
"Of course!" Anthony answered. "The structuring is a bit old fashioned, but it's easy enough. I was a librarian for three years beforehand, Mrs. Hawkins."
"And I thought that they just had a problem with syntax," she admitted laughingly. "Tell me, what does it mean?"
"Well... it seems to be a sonnet," Anthony started out, sounding a bit nervous. "It has fourteen lines, an alternating rhyme scheme, and an iambic pentameter... Hmm... The first four lines say something a bit like: How much can a man of my echelon... erm, rank, love someone who cannot love easily..." He ran a hand over his platinum hair. "The second bit is something along the lines of: You fell in love with someone, and you were devastated when he left you..." Anthony stopped for a moment and glanced at Sarah. She returned his gaze with a sad one, but urged him to continue. "Oh, ehm... he says that: can he ask you to love him despite that, because he... is in love with your blue eyes, or something of the like..." He coughed anxiously into his paw. "And the last bit says something like: So, I'm putting this poem on your window sill, with words that were written from my heart. And, that his affection hopes to be awarded with your love."
"How... interesting," Sarah ended vaguely, scratching the back of her head in uncertainty.
"I think it was a lovely poem," Anthony informed her. He handed her the parchment, and Sarah glanced over its writing for a second time. "Think about it Mrs. Hawkins," he said with a smile. "Someone out there admires you!"
"Yes," Sarah said, nodding. She folded the paper quietly, then walked over to her wastebasket and let it go, allowing it to float slowly into the bin.
Anthony jumped up. "Mrs. Hawkins!" he exclaimed. "Don't you think that's a bit harsh to your admirer?"
"Well, I apologize to my admirer, whoever he might be," she said coolly, not taking a second glance at the note before moving to the four poster bed that sat against the adjacent wall. "But, I'm just too busy to be dealing with something like this. It's romantic, I'll admit, but I don't have time for love notes given to me by people crazy enough to climb to the third floor just so I can see it." She smiled. "It's an interesting gesture, but I can just as easily get their little love note in the mail."
"I see your point," Anthony replied softly, standing from his seat, clutching tighter his candle.
"Why would he put it on my window sill anyway?" Sarah wondered aloud, taking a seat on her mattress.
"I don't know," her waiter admitted, making his slow way to the door. "Perhaps he was expecting it to gain more attention were it to be in some unusual place." Anthony passed her a grin. "And, in my opinion, Mrs. Hawkins, it seemed to have some effect, if I might say so."
Sarah nodded her head, acceding. "That's true," she agreed. She glanced at the wastebasket quietly. "Well... let's hope he doesn't try that stunt again. We wouldn't want some poor soul to break his neck from slipping on the roofing tiles."
Anthony laughed politely. "Yes, let's hope." The Canid continued out the door into the dark hallway, guarding his light with one paw. He took a final peek into the room. "Goodnight, Mrs. Hawkins," he said, bowing his head slightly, then making his way down the hall.
"Goodnight, Anthony," Sarah returned, and she shut the door after him.
A/N: Well, that's about it for the first chapter. Tell me what you think, alright, mes amis? Oh, and the poem... wrote that about a month ago while pondering over the story... I'm sorry if it isn't that good.