Gentlemen And Rakes
Chapter Three: Dressed For The Occasion (Andrew's PoV)
"I can't believe you're making me do this," I berated my companion as we huddled under the drooping tree, the rainwater slipping through the branches and drenching us both to the skin.
"A 'thank you' would suffice," he replied optimistically.
"Thank you? Raven, I am cold, and wet, and hungry—"
"Don't be such a woman," he snapped back at me, his jovial façade evanescing immediately. "It seemed like a good idea at the time…"
"We're caught in a bloody lightning storm," I hissed.
"Well how was I meant to know it was going to rain?" he defended.
"Overhanging storm clouds on the horizon and thunderclaps are the usual indications," I pointed out. "Use your head, man."
"My head is not my friend," he shot back, his look immediately turning into one of disgust. "Not whilst my hair remains like this." I stared at him in disbelief. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his hair…
"Besides," he continued with an air of flippancy not becoming upon the subject at hand, "are you really in the mood for playing the rape victim tonight?"
I fell silent at his comment, pulling the soaking coat closer. "You're right," I agreed, "but couldn't we have sent for a carriage?"
He snorted, his brown eyes turning to stare at me in disbelief. "Oh, come on," he rebuked, "where's your sense of adventure, man?"
"It's accompanying my dignity," I threw back icily.
"Come again?"
I clenched my teeth, shaking my head. "Never mind…"
"A carriage would be too easy to track," he listed, "and it's inconvenient as hell—we'll have to wait for it to come, and then we'll have to bribe the driver—need I continue?" He looked stonily into my eyes. "I think your dignity can suffer for want of a carriage for this one night, don't you?" he asked icily, condescendingly, as though I was an apprentice who should have known better than to question the orders and methods of his more experienced master.
But in this instance, I felt certain that not only was such questioning justified, but it was also necessary to the extremity.
"Ah, but that wasn't what I was referring to," I snapped impatiently, gesturing at my body. "John Raven, I am, at this very moment in time, seriously considering beating and robbing you as payback for this disgraceful degradation you have done unto me."
He cocked his head, looking at me in confusion. "Oh? And what, pray tell, is this great torturous indignity of mortification that I, of all people, have inflicted upon you?"
"I'm wearing a dress."
His coughing fit was conveniently timed.
"A dress, Raven. With corset and petticoats and stockings and—God forbid—pantaloons."
"Well, it's not like there's any other way you'll be able to get into a girl's drawers, is there?" he graciously called attention to, stifling his snicker.
I let out a crude remark which no proper gentleman would ever utter, and his response was to double up over, his shoulders shaking as he amused himself at my expense. Annoyed, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled, satisfied at the yelp that was emitted.
"What's the matter?" I asked of him mockingly. "I thought you despised your hair."
"That's—would be correct, yes," he admitted, clearly regretting the sharing of his random obsession, "but I detest pain even more, believe it or not—Wilson! You son of a—"
My fingers tightened ever so slightly, and he cursed me to the very depths of hell, amongst other things, sputtering out the rainwater he was unwittingly consuming. Satisfied with this guilty revenge, I slowly unclenched my fingers.
"Bastard," he hissed, immediately massaging his scalp.
I smiled, innocently batting my lashes in response, and John merely frowned at the sight. "What?" I asked, my smug grin dissipating at his look.
"Nothing," he said hurriedly, shaking his head and spraying me with more water. "It's just that…"
"What?"
"It's quite disturbing, really."
"What is?"
His brown eyes met mine in all solemnity, all traces of mirth completely evanesced. "It's just that I found myself very attracted to you for a moment there…"
He skilfully ducked my swinging fist, his laughter returning. "We should probably be continuing on our way now," he eventually rasped out, and I inclined my head in agreement; the English storm did not show any signs of ending soon.
We fought our way through the mud and trees of Winchester's wilderness, until finally, at long last, the glowing windows of the sleepy city came into full view. Beside me I heard John's lips break out into a sly grin as we drew closer. He moved hurriedly, clearly impatient to arrive at his destination, and I followed uncomfortably behind, the long skirts of a kitchen maid prohibiting my progress.
John continued his path, moving by memory towards a little filthy alley leading away from one of the main roads of the town towards the poorer underbelly of Winchester. We stalked past brothels, slums, and decaying taverns, John skilfully manoeuvring his way past petty thieves, unstable drunks, and repellent whores, whilst I had to stay close by in order to avoid any unsavoury propositions from any of the men we came across.
He led me into a large, seemingly unoccupied building, leading me up three flights of rotting stairs to a little garret with a broken and unstable door, evidently kept closed by an object from inside. "Catherine!" he summoned, graciously knocking his knuckles against the door, which evidently splintered further.
I could barely hear the hurried footsteps from within this discarded attic over the howl of the wind and the relentlessly pounding of the rain before the door swung open and the girl threw herself upon John. She was tall and slim, with a thick mane of red curls falling loosely about her shoulders. I knew immediately that this was the kitchen maid who had so graciously donated me her dress, as she wore my clothes in exchange, and had my coat wrapped tightly about herself.
Her pale green eyes drifted over my form, and her eyes widened in shock. She suddenly pulled back from John, her pretty face a mask of revulsion. "What's this here?" she asked of him, although her mind had clearly decided what 'this' was. "What are you playing at, John?"
"You still remember Andrew, don't you, Cathy?" he said, making to pull her back to him, but she flatly refused, shaking her head adamantly.
"You…" Words failed her; all she could do was look at us both in unveiled revulsion. "You're…"
"Catherine, what—"
"Oh, you know what, Raven!"
"No, actually, I can't say I do."
"Don't take me for a fool, John," she snapped icily. "I know sodomy when I sees it."
The look on John's face was priceless; I'm certain it greatly reflected my own stunned expression. "See?" I hissed at my friend. "I told you that the dress was a tad too much; next time why don't we have you as the parlour maid whilst I'm the enamoured schoolboy, eh?"
"Catherine," he said in a low, manipulative tone, "surely when we—" The sudden narrowing of green eyes forced him to swiftly change tactics. "Surely I'd proved to you that I lean towards girls?"
"It's so obvious, you know?" she continued, ignoring his hidden command. "Really, e'eryone hears about how students at schools try out everything at least once, but I though that you…"
"Catherine, neither of us are attracted to boys," I added.
She snorted. "Oh, so all upstanding men walk around in women's underwear, do they?"
"It wasn't my fault!" I defended, raising an accusing finger. Sensing my next words, he adamantly shook his head, silently warning me that they were not going to help his cause. "He made me do it!"
"Oh, so it's only you, then!" she rounded back on John.
"Catherine," he said, his voice oddly gentle and forced as he slipped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him. She struggled, yes… But that wasn't quite the same as resisting.
"You're right," he agreed, "most of our schoolmates tend to… experiment."
"I knew it!" she crooned, finger raised in triumph.
"And one of them tried it with Andrew here," he continued, jerking his head towards me. "Hence the theft of your dress, sweetheart."
Catherine's furious glare immediately evanesced to be replaced by a look of the greatest sympathy as she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. "Someone… tried to rape you?"
"That's one way of putting it," John agreed, letting his hand slip down her back.
Her head slowly turned away from me to meet John's gaze. "And you ripped my dress off, left me lying in your room with only a blanket to cover me, and forced him into it, did you? To keep 'im safe from the other bloke, right?" Before either of us could gauge exactly what was happening, she'd grabbed a fistful of his thick black hair and pulled his face down the better to give him a kiss that was anything but chaste. I averted my eyes, certain that it was best if I was to be taking my leave soon, unless I seriously wished to be scarred until the end of my days… Well, the dress was a good start in that field.
"Oh, John, why didn't you tell me—?"
"I was trying to!"
Catherine continued to hang off of him, looking desperately into his eyes with complete and utter devotion. "My God, you're such a wonderful person—a good friend, charming company—"
"That I am."
I snorted at this last remark. The sound caused Catherine's attentions to switch from John to me. "Oh, Andrew, I'm sorry something dreadful for what you've been through…"
I met John's gaze incredulously, uncertain as to what he saw in this seemingly dim-witted and easily manipulated girl. Yes, she was extremely attractive, but… Well, she just didn't interest me. As Catherine hurriedly got to work unlacing the distinctly feminine jacket upon my person, chatting all the while in a most irritating manner, my mind slowly began to recall all of the girls John had displayed a preference for in the past: Louisa, Margaret, Hannah, Mary, Janet, all five of the Fowler sisters…
In that one night, I learnt four things:
if an elder lad was particularly tall and strong and large and had a preference for the male sex, you never turn your back to him;
John had the ability to charm anyone to his will, including making me dress as a kitchen maid for "safety reasons";
I was actually willing to conform to his wishes (what you'd do for a friend, eh?).
But the fourth, and clearly the most important fact that struck me that night was the first real difference in John and I: whereas John was more than happy to have a two-week fling with a girl of no substance and lead her on to believe otherwise, I, on the other hand, would rather have all or nothing, even at that age. I was quick to give my heart away, and I got all the more wounded because of it, whereas John never actually allowed himself into such a vulnerable position to begin with.
That memory always stuck out particularly vividly in my mind: not only was it the first time I wore a woman's dress, but it was also the first time that I began to notice any differences between John and I. And this was the distinction: when it came to women, at least, John Raven not only excelled in charm… but his dealings with them were a great deal safer and cleverer than my own self-harming methods. See, he never allowed himself to fall in love with one of his many girls… Whilst all I ever did was give my heart away.
-x!x-
AN: Well, sorry for the wait there, got distracted by other fics… and real life. How I hate real life… Anyway, hope you didn't mind this chapter; it's slow, but it explains quite an important part of Andrew's character… eventually…
TigerTiger02: Oh man, I feel so sorry for you… Dredging up sad memories like that was seriously not my intention… The closest thing I could say I'd experienced to a bird dying was when one little bird (I think it was another sparrow, but I was too young to pay any attention to the breed) flew down our chimney. We got the electric fire removed straight away, but he was OK, and just flew away straight away, so that was lucky… But moving on to happier topics, I'm glad you liked the last chapter. That makes me so happy. I think I'll keep the next few chapters in flashbacks and then switch to the plot of this fic to prevent confusion.
Please review!