Chapter Twenty Four

"I know they have pits, Isabel."

"Then why do you still look startled whenever you bite into one?"

"No particular reason."

Isabel snorted, pausing to examine the paring knife she used to halve the cherries. The blade was too dull for this task: It kept slipping from her grip and nearly slicing her thumb in half. She waved it towards Daniel, ignoring the alarmed look on his face as his wife brandished a weapon at him. "Could you take care of this? The sharpening stone is in the drawer beside the basin. And stop eating the cherries; I barely have enough to can as it is."

Daniel grunted a reply and took the knife from her, walking rather languidly across the room.

"Mama, where's Nadir?"

Isabel flicked her eyes towards her son. He was sitting on the floor beneath the table, scraps of lead-smudged paper spread around him. He had taken to drawing again, such as it was. Unintelligible as his creations were, both Isabel and Daniel had been assured by the artist that they were, actually, portraits of his parents; nonetheless he was rather offended by their lack of recognition. Waiting for Daniel to finish sharpening her knife, Isabel picked up the picture of herself that Thomas had drawn and squinted, trying to see some sliver of her likeness in the mess of lines and curves. She turned the paper to the left, to the right, upside down. No, it was pointless. In no position did this drawing look anything akin to a human being. She laid it down where it was and turned back to Thomas.

"He and Mr. Bertrand went for a walk. I told you that this morning."

A pout formed on Thomas's mouth and he scribbled on the paper in front of him vigorously. "He hasn't read to me at all since Papa got here."

The sounds of metal scraping against stone ceased and Isabel shot Daniel a furtive glance. He had paused in his task and was gazing at Thomas with unconcealed hurt, his mouth turned down into a frown and his eyes wide and round – the very expression his son's face assumed every time his feelings were injured.

Suppressing a sigh, Isabel rose from her chair and moved to the back door. "I should go tend to Loki and Bell…Bell…"

"Bellerophon," Thomas quipped.

"Yes, Bellerophon. I am not certain if Mr. Bertrand saw to them this morning, and I would hate for them to be neglected." She untied her apron and hung it over the back of the chair. "They are not getting much use lately, I fear."

Daniel resumed his task, the scraping sounds the only noise in the room.

Focusing on her husband squarely, Isabel drew a breath, startled to feel it shaking in her chest. They had to talk now. She knew it, and he certainly must as well. And yet the idea of speaking frankly about their situation was so terrifying, she could feel the blood draining from her face at the mere thought of it.

"Daniel, could you come with me?"

He stopped his movements and raised his brow, looking suspicious. She jerked her head towards the door, indicating that he follow her.

Setting the stone and knife down, he nodded to Thomas and strode outside, Isabel firmly shutting the door behind them.

"Need some help with the horses, Bella?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I need to talk to you."

He tilted his head. "What about?"

Isabel stared at his questioning expression with utter disbelief. "About this very strange arrangement that we find ourselves in."

Daniel rolled his eyes and focused his just over Isabel's shoulder. "About me being here."

"Yes, of course about you being here!"

"I have to say, Bella, it's going much better than I thought it would." He gazed up at the sky, a lock of his hair falling in his eyes in an infuriatingly endearing way. "My God, how Tom has grown. And you've done an admirable job with him, as well. He's a smart one, all right. Always eager to learn, eyes always open. I'm proud." His smile never wavered.

Isabel felt her mouth twitch; he wasn't going to make this easy.

"Daniel, surely you know what I have to say." She waved a hand to assure his attention and when he finally turned his mournful gaze onto her, she felt guilt building inside her chest, threatening to wreck her resolve.

Daniel sighed and sat himself on a chopping block beside the house.

"No, I won't claim that I do know what you're going to say, Isabel." He rolled his eyes heavenwards. "Can't say that's a new occurrence."

Isabel set her hands firmly on her hips, pointedly ignoring his tone. "Daniel, even if it was just me and Thomas again, you know that this wouldn't work. We have an arrangement, and it can't be broken now. Especially now. This isn't even our home. You cannot just settle down at a gentleman's estate because the mood strikes you."

"I am not settling down," he snapped. "And even if I were, it would hardly be at random. My son happens to be here, as does my wife."

"Mr. Bertrand hardly puts up with Thomas, Daniel, I cannot possibly expect him to welcome you now! I receive a phenomenally generous salary from him and I cannot afford – no, we cannot afford – to put ourselves into the jeopardy that your staying would entail."

"So if I care for my family, I will leave you alone."

Isabel approached Daniel slowly, dropping to her knees and placing a hand on his leg gently. "In a manner of speaking. Please, Daniel, I don't want you to think that I am just desperate to be rid of you. Please tell me that you understand."

Daniel's gaze stood fixed on Isabel's hand upon his leg. "Bella, after we get a good amount saved, I think we should..." he glanced at her face, his expression quite blank.

Isabel felt a cold shiver run through her. "No, Daniel."

He rose from the stump and began pacing in front of her. "No, I suppose not. But I want you to think about it. Nothing too soon... maybe next year. I think that we deserve to try again. Thomas certainly deserves it."

"Yes, perhaps next year we can discuss it." She felt sick; she needed to stop this conversation.

Daniel stopped his pacing and turned to gaze at her. Isabel stared at the ground, still kneeling beside the stump, a hand on her stomach in a feeble attempt to ease the discomfort raging there.

"But we won't, will we? We will never discuss it, and if I ever show my face here again, you'll rush me out as soon as possible. You're not desperate to be rid of me, not yet. If you were, you wouldn't bother with this ridiculous game of making sure my feelings weren't injured." He sank to a squatting position, level with her. "I know you don't care for me anymore, Bella, but surely you can see how it would benefit all of us to live together again? I have selfish reasons for wanting it, of course. Now that Robert is gone, I know how lonely it will be in Liverpool."

Isabel rose from the ground and dusted off her apron. "No," she said firmly. "No. I am sorry, Daniel, but I cannot consider it. I do not like asking you this, but I have to." She shut her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. Opening her eyes again, she fixed her husband with a firm gaze. "Please return to Liverpool."

Daniel's entire body sagged at her words. He glanced at her sadly and gave a small nod, walking past her and entering the house. Isabel stood perfectly still until after she heard the door click shut.

After Daniel's footsteps faded off into the house, went to the side of the house and let her body rest against it, biting her lip so hard she could taste blood.


Erik sank onto the pile of hay inside the stable's door slowly, wincing at the dull pain in his back as he settled into the makeshift seat. Bellerophon stared at him with his large, mournful eyes, his head tilted to one side as if in sympathy. Erik smiled grimly at the creature, releasing a sigh. The air in the stable was cool and stale, tinged with the manure that desperately needed to be cleared from the stalls. His gaze rose to the ceiling and the spider and cobwebs covering it, the thread dewy and heavy from the moisture seeping into the building. His eyes narrowed in annoyance: he would have to hunt around the structure to find the leak. He briefly considered finding fault in Britain's lumber or metalworking before begrudgingly admitting to himself that he simply must have missed a spot.

"Oh, the palaces I built," he murmured, his eyes sliding shut again as a wave of fatigue swept through him. "Not palaces, kingdoms." He fixed Bellerophon a hard stare. "And now I cannot create a simple stable to protect animals."

Bellerophon shook his head out.

"I was once called Genius," Erik said softly. "A God-send with a demon's face and the voice of an angel." His lips parted in a small smile. "I half-wish my teachers could see me now. Giovanni would be beside himself with rage." He let out a laugh at the idea of his former tutor throwing a tantrum.

"You do not build from your mind, Erik, you build from your heart! You know this! You knew it before you came to me, so why do you act as if it is foreign to you? Do not look at the structure. Feel it."

"Feel it," Erik whispered.

Loki suddenly made a loud whinny and pawed the ground nervously. Erik glanced up as a crack of thundered exploded overhead; the dapple horse had been sensitive to storms ever since his escape. Erik considered it more than likely that lightning had struck near him, causing some sort of permanent psychological scar. Erik grinned now.

"We have something in common, Loki!"

The horse snorted.

The door beside Erik slid open, casting the room in a brief glow as a flash of lightning lit the sky outside. A figure stepped inside, shaking a few droplets of water out of their hair, and Erik assessed them as one of the men currently dwelling in his house. He groaned inwardly: Nadir was obviously trying to seek him out again in order to draw out Erik's innermost demons and thereby rescue him from the hapless damage he was inflicting onto himself. Really, tenacity was normally a trait to be admired, but the man really was pushing this one a bit too far.

The person didn't bother to observe his surroundings, merely sliding the door half-shut behind him and approaching the stalls quickly.

"You up for it?" he said quietly, patting Bellerophon on the neck. His voice was gruff, his accent Southern with just a touch of cockney. Erik narrowed his eyes again.

"A little rain won't bother you, will it? We'll be back before you can say... before you can say... well..."

"Anything, I would imagine," Erik said dryly, causing the man to jump and spin around, a guilty expression etched on his face. "Bellerophon is the silent type, I find."

"Mr. Bertrand!" Daniel exclaimed, trying for a winning smile. "What a surprise, sir!"

"Yes, this estate's full of them." Erik stood slowly, silently enjoying the intimidation crossing Daniel's face as he realized the masked man's full height. "I hope you will not think me overly inquisitive, Mr. Bauer, but may I ask exactly what you are planning to do with my horse this evening?"

Even in the darkness, Erik could sense Daniel's face flushing. "Oh, well... a bit silly, really..."

"I have little doubt."

"Haha... Bella told me you were very astute, sir. I can see that she wasn't lying."

"If you would be so kind as to answer the question, Mr. Bauer."

Erik heard a loud swallow come from the other man. "Oh, right. Well, you see, sir, I have a business appointment about two miles from here, and it simply cannot be broken, you see... and since there's this storm looks as if it's going to be quite unforgiving, so I thought that perhaps I would... take the... ah... the, ah..."

"Liberty?"

"Yes! The liberty of... well, borrowing this fine animal here. I didn't know that you would be here."

"Yes, your bumbled, stuttering excuses for coherent sentences have made that rather

obvious." Erik folded his arms, enjoying the look of increasing terror Daniel was adopting. "And what business appointment do you have in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm, which requires you to be in the middle of my stable?"

Daniel froze. A long silence fell; even the horses paused in their stalls.

"It's private," Daniel said at length, his voice surprisingly gruff. "Regarding my family."

Erik let another pause hang in the air. "Your family is meeting you in the midst of a rainstorm?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Daniel fidgeted, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt. "I, ah... well, frankly, sir, I... I am considering... I want to be closer to my wife and son, and I am considering perhaps... purchasing a..."

Erik let out a loud bark of laughter. "Mr. Bauer, am I to understand that you are going to attempt to come live here? Buy a cottage and have Isabel tend to a garden?" A crash of thunder broke overhead and Daniel jumped, banging his shoulder on the stall behind him.

"I don't see why it would seem funny, sir..."

"No, I do not suppose that you would." Erik sighed, suddenly weary. The stable was growing chilly from the storm and this idiot was beginning to bore him. "Your private affairs do not concern or interest me. Your wife, however, does. She is my employee, and, despite the fact that she is currently distracted by a plethora of uninvited guests, she has managed to do the work she has been hired to do, and I do not appreciate your ill-conceived plan to remove her from her post and plant her in the fertile ground that is your idea of marital bliss." He paused. Daniel's breath had become shallow and labored; in the dim light, Erik could see him begin to shrink into himself at the scolding.

"Since Isabel has the tendency to blurt out whatever is foremost in her mind, and this particular notion has never been ejaculated, I presume that you have not discussed it with her." Daniel opened his mouth, looking indignant, and Erik raised a hand to silence him. "That, however, is not my concern. My concern is that it is storming outside and you were prepared to take one of my horses out into it without bothering to request any sort of permission. That is correct, is it not?"

"Well, it... I don't really..."

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Daniel said meekly. "I suppose it is."

"Which is unacceptable," Erik concluded. "If you insist on making appointments in the dead of the night, you will have to get to them on foot, unless you had the good fortune to come across some other mode of transportation."

"But I had to make it in the middle of the night," Daniel protested. "I have spoken to Bella about it – er, briefly – and she didn't exactly warm to the idea, so if she knew that I was sneaking around behind her back, she'd be furious. I know you're not as familiar with her as I am, sir, but you must know that she can have a fiery temper when she wants."

"Mr. Bauer, get to your appointment, leave my animals alone and keep your marital woes to yourself."

The door slid closed behind Erik smoothly, and he smirked at the loud squeak Daniel emitted as he was shut into darkness.


It wasn't that the eggs and raw bacon before her were particularly intriguing, it was just that Isabel couldn't seem to take her eyes off of them. Her head ached dully from a sleepless night and her eyes felt dry and sore; she was sure they were red-rimmed and puffy, adding to the vague sense of despair she was feeling. She simply lacked the energy to begin her day; getting dressed that morning had been a challenge unlike any she had attempted recently.

The clock struck 7:00 and she started, snapping her head around to glance at it. "Dear Lord," she breathed, rubbing a temple gently. She had to get a hold of herself.

She eyed the eggs defiantly, grabbing one and breaking it over a bowl. The haze around her dissipated as she continued with her work steadily, humming a melody her mother had taught her as a child.

O can't you see yon little turtle dove

Sitting under the mulberry tree?

See how that she doth mourn for her true love:

And I shall mourn for thee, my dear,

And I shall mourn for thee

Heavy footsteps began thudding down the stairs as she was turning the bacon and she glanced up as Mr. Bertrand breezed through the kitchen, exiting the back door and heading towards the stables. Isabel took the pan off the stove and crossed the room, wiping her hands on her apron as she peered out the window. Mr. Bertrand disappeared into the stable, leaving the door open behind him. He walked back out it a moment later, dusting a sleeve off impatiently and walking quickly towards the kitchen door.

Isabel turned back to the stove as he entered.

"Mrs. Bauer."

Putting on her best quizzical expression, she turned her head to him, tilting it slightly in question. "Yes, Mr. Bertrand?"

"I need some things in town." He held up a hand to silence her as she released a weary sigh at the words. "I am planning on going myself, actually, but I would be much obliged if you would accompany me. I have something I wish to discuss with you."

Despite his mild tone and expression, Isabel felt her stomach turn.

The masked man rolled his eyes. "Do not look so worried, Mrs. Bauer. I feel quite certain that whatever I have to say will not surprise or particularly upset you." He glanced at the food she was preparing. "I would like to leave as soon as possible. Come to the library when you have finished with breakfast."

Isabel grunted in irritation as he left the kitchen silently, casting her an amused look before disappearing into the hall.

"'You take delight in vexing me,'" she muttered, turning back to the bacon.


I know, I know, it's been a while. I won't even try to excuse myself, because I know it's pointless.
Nawlin-sprinked Sherlock-lovin' to Chat for betaing while she's on freakin' vacation. She's far, far too good to me.
Readers, if there are any left (I stopped deserving you a while ago), you're the kindest, bestest, prettiest people who ever were. I will arrange for John Cusack to stand outside your window with a boombox blasting Peter Gabriel as soon as I have the means.
Last quote is Jane Austen and blah blah blah.