DISCLAIMER: Alas, I SHAN'T own anything related to Labyrinth, David Bowie or Jim Henson and Co.

CHAPTER THREE

A clock with too much time ticks away.
Snickering echoes in a darkened room.
The mismatched eyes laugh…

The two were insufferable. It was clear to her (though the others would hardly notice) that neither one of them were happy. To the untrained eye, the man sitting at the head of the table and the woman to his right were having a polite conversation. A spectator might assume that the two were recent acquaintances or even new found friends. They were cordial, their manner cool and collected, as they listened to the other guests drone on about this or that with polite interest. To all others in the room, there was nothing to draw pause or concern with Mr. Lefroy and his soon-to-be wife.

Mariah Bishop was not fooled. Their smiles had been enough to convince even their families and friends of their devotion— they were far too doltish to see the truth pulling at the fabric of the lie. But she saw what hid behind their eyes when others looked away. She knew the truth.

And how could they be happy? The drastic difference in their stations was an enormous barrier, to say the least. Sarah's family was reason enough to turn a sensible man away. Her father was a drunk, too often slumped over a table or unconscious in a whore's bed. What good can be said of a wealthy man that can't keep manage to keep a wife? Even if Linda Williams was not a lick better than her former husband, she at least had the decency to die and end her daughter's humiliation. One can always be forgiven if they suffered greatly in death.

The only reason Sarah even attended social affairs was the Tillens, and the overwhelming amount of pity too many bestowed on her. That, and the unanimous (if unspoken) understanding that Robert was to remain at home. His behavior was appalling in the best of circumstances, and no one was willing to risk their party to see him at his worst. Though the rumors whispered behind demure smiles and dainty hands did not help Sarah, it was her father's loathsome habits that sealed her fate. Once word spread, any and all the tart's suitors fled.

All except one.

Richard Lefroy had fallen under the spell of that poor, disgraced little slut despite her many malfeasances. Mariah couldn't fathom what was so appealing about such a girl. Though it was true— and she hated the concession as much as the subject— Sarah was not ill-mannered or unkempt at all. Though her clothes were at least three seasons out of fashion and faded from use, she was never quite homely, even when ink stained her never-manicured fingers. What kind of self-respecting woman couldn't keep her hands clean?

Mariah daintily wiped the corners of her mouth with pristine fingers, the growl hidden in her throat caught, as she let a gentle smile brighten her face. It was too easy feigning absorption in the conversations surrounding her, while her attention was focused solely on the source of her irritation. It was no small effort to hide her disdain, but her good breeding and expensive tutelage would not go to waste on the likes of Sarah Williams. The wretch was hardly worth all the trouble poor Richard was made to endure on her behalf.

"What a fine pair they make," the aged voice on her left remarked. Mariah's grip tightened painfully on her silverware. "I was skeptical when my nephew told me of his intentions, but it seems I may have been a bit presumptuous. The girl will make a fine wife— even without a penny to her name." The woman was Lefroy's aunt, a dour woman whose lips seemed forever fixed in a haughty purse. She was graceful and her presence commanding, while she may not have been a rare beauty in her first season, Alberta Rossen was certainly captivating.

Not another supporter! Mariah wanted to scream! How could she be the only one to see the truth? She couldn't possibly be the only person in the entire country with any sense— that would be ridiculous! Were the others so enraptured with the leeching trite that they could overlook the scandalous history surrounding her family? Mariah wouldn't stand for it; someone was bound to see reason— and it was up to her to show them.

"Oh yes, they make quite the pair." A grit marred her light tone, "but it is a shame about her family." Mariah eased a quiet tone of pity into her whisper; best to play to the old woman's sympathies for the couple.

"One would never guess that she was poor, at least from her manner. Style can be bought at any age, my dear, but refinement must be taught young or else it cannot stick." Alberta watched the other end of the table, approval written across her aged features.

"I am so glad you have not let her unfortunate circumstances hinder your good opinion. I am convinced that your acceptance will open a great many doors that would otherwise have remained closed. Rumors can do such horrible things to the best of people, don't you agree?" Her lie sounded genuine, even to her ears.

Alberta's brows rose, but Mariah knew better— the woman devoured gossip like a pig to slop. "There are rumors about Miss. Williams?" Richard's family lived near London, and as such were not privy to the tattle of her quaint town and surrounding hamlets. Mariah saw her window of opportunity, and she would be a fool not to leap through it.

"Well, they are not as much rumors as talk." With a repentant frown she purred, "The poor thing's mother abandoned her for her father's apprentice. Of course, her father didn't take it too well; one can almost sympathize with his taking to the bottle to drown his sorrows." Demurely her eyes swept beside her in mock hesitation as she leaned closer. "He managed, by throwing himself into his work, to hide his true nature for years. He even remarried and that same year welcomed a son, it seemed luck had finally caught up with them." Mariah paused as if the words both pained and relieved her.

"That is an interesting story, and one I am afraid I had not heard." The graying woman was serious and her eyes tight— livid. Mariah swallowed the smile that threatened— this was much easier than she hoped. The old fool had the power to stop this egregious marriage, all she needed was a little push.

"If only that were the end, but I fear there is more. I think Mr. Williams was always in love with his first wife— even after everything— because when word reached him of her death he became a different man." The blonde allowed a piteous frown to pull at her rosy, wine-tinted lips. "He began spending all his nights at the tables surrounded by women." Mariah whispered, a shy blush crept over her cheeks, as she feigned demure embarrassment. "Over the years he became— unmanageable— until one morning poor Sarah and her father awoke to an empty house."

"Both his wives left him." It was not a question. Mrs. Rossen fell mute, not even her breaths made a sound, but the look in her eyes told Mariah more than words ever could. "It seems my original apprehensions were well grounded, indeed."

A slight cough pulled their attention to the plump widow sitting just down the table. "I couldn't help but overhear," The woman's heavy frame shifted nearer in her velvet lined seat, a pudgy hand rising to touch the pearls at her throat. There was a delighted sparkle in her eyes as she spoke. "I am afraid Miss. Bishop omitted some rather pertinent details."

Acting abashed, Mariah's eyes fell to her empty plate, her cheeks tinged with heat. "Forgive me, Mrs. Rossen, it was only out of respect for Miss. Williams' reputation, of course. The poor girl has been through so much as it is."

Alberta's eyes widened, "Of course dear. By all means, Mrs. Garrow, continue." Her voice held a demanding edge that echoed across her face. "I find I am rather anxious to hear the rest."

"Robert lost everything, and amassed a small fortune in debt. His creditors threatened Irene— his second wife— and the babe. She was gone the very next day. Word is she fled to country where her parents have a small cottage, and there she remains. I don't believe she has any intentions to come back, but one can scarcely blame her." The widow shook her head in disbelief. "That poor girl was forced to find work to avoid the poorhouse, and were it not for the Tillens, I don't know what would have become of her."

Three pairs of eyes turned to the girl in question, each holding a different kind of disdain. One for the mother who had abandoned her, one for the reputation that soiled her, and one for the woman herself.

"Sarah and Blythe are practically brother and sister." Mrs. Garrow continued. "He and his family have watched over her from the beginning, before everything went wrong. When her situation changed they offered to take her in as their ward, and they did for a handful of months until her father demanded that she return home. He threatened to go before the courts and claim she was kidnapped."

Mariah was unaware of this detail and found herself leaned even closer to hear the sibilated tale. Sharing a shocked and horrified expression with Alberta, she found she could only stare as the tale reached its end.

"You see, as Robert Williams was alive and sound of mind, at least in the eyes of the courts, the Tillens charity was kidnapping! Legal documents are required when taking in a ward and well, without them— " Mrs. Garrow let her voice trail off, this was no longer a tale of gossip, but a tragedy of Shakespearian intrigue. The handful of woman listening with rapt attention, even the troublesome Miss. Bishop felt a pang of lenity.

Finally, with a softer, more sincere resonance the widow finished. "With no other alternative, the Tillens secured her a position as a scrivener their shop, The Quill. The girl has talent. She is, dare I say, the best scrivener within fifty miles." Speaking more to herself than the small group, Garrow added. "I often wonder if the late Henry Tillens had not already promised his son to another, would Miss. Williams have become Mrs. Tillens?"

"A scrivener?" Alberta said disdainfully, "Her tale is rather unfortunate, and for that she has my pity— but a scrivener?" Her nostrils flared, chest puffed as her jaw set. "Richard this is unacceptable!" Her voice roared to the end of the table. The room fell silent. Even Mariah's eyes widened in delighted shock. "Explain yourself." Alberta's eyes flew to her nephew pinning him to his seat.

"Aunt Alberta did you need something?" Richard asked, his brow arched. The matron's expression stone as she studied the green-eyed girl with what Mariah knew was newfound scruple.

Soft-wrinkled lips pursed, she breathed deep through her nostrils before speaking. Her tone calculated. "My dear boy, perhaps you would care to explain why you are engaged to the likes of her?"

When he did not respond the woman practically growled, her hand slamming crassly against the table, causing the glasses to tinker and clink from the force. "I will not be ignored, you were raised better than this!" Flinging her long finger, she pointed to the shocked brunette sitting ram-rod in her seat, a sickly expression on her face.

"Alberta!" The startled voice of her husband cut above the tension. His face red from both shock and embarrassment.

"Henry, your nephew has attached himself to a shop girl whose father continues to lose all their money gambling and in the beds of whores." Her voice was sharp, the words biting at the air around them. "And her mother a strumpet! Running off with an apprentice! Even her new mother couldn't handle such ruination!"

"Aunt Alberta, you must be mistaken," an all-too-relaxed man beside Mariah chimed. "Richard knows better than that." He was Richard's cousin and consequently, his closest friend; Francis Durrow, a wealthy second son with a reputation as devilish as his looks.

Mariah was certain he knew all about Sarah, but she was still unsure of his opinion of the woman standing in the way of her happiness. Francis' blue eyes smiled at Mariah knowingly; it seemed he had been eavesdropping with wicked intent n she now had an ally. "Wouldn't you agree Charles?" A dark grin spread on his lips as his tongue absentmindedly picked his teeth, his attention fixed on the horrified bachelor in front of him.

Charles coughed with a start. It was clear he wanted no part in this. "Well, um— she is a— lovely girl. She isn't at all like her father. His—er— reputation should not be held against her— don't you think?" His embarrassment reached his ears, flaming them red as he stuttered through his pathetic response. Charles Stobbs was far too meek and quiet, always endeavoring to be both fair and kind never speaking ill of anyone— even those who deserved it. He was utterly useless to Mariah's plight.

As more voices began to chide in their opinions (none of whom were Richard, Mariah noted with glee) she allowed herself to savor the look of horrified shame plastered to Sarah's overly pietistic face. The girl seemed to shrink within herself, her eyes sweeping to Richard, pleading for him to come to her aid, to defend her honor— or what little she had left of it. Anyone could see tears trapezing on the bottom of her eyes, dancing on that thin line waiting to tumble over. Mariah didn't bother hiding her look of satisfaction— she didn't care if someone took notice. They had all played quite spectacularly into her hand and she was determined to enjoy herself.

Feeling giddy— she took a long sip from her wine glass watching the awkward movements of the umber-haired pretender down the table. Sarah looked as though she would be sick. She seemed out of place in every way; her dress looked new (no doubt a gift from Richard) but the soft peach print made her look sickly and pale, and not chosen by the girl, herself. The fit was less than ideal, presumably a premade thing pulled from the rack only days prior, her hair was pulled into a plain chignon that was more fitting for a spinster than a bride; tied back with ugly faded ribbons.

Mariah couldn't have been happier if she had planned the disastrous enable herself. She was superior in every way. Where Sarah was pretty and small, with dark hair and soft eyes, Mariah was beautiful and tall: her neck swanlike and her eyes darker than a midnight sky framed by flaxen curls. Not a single hair was ever out of place, nor dress out of fashion. She was perfection personified.

The wealthiest and most respectable bachelor in the county deserved nothing less than perfection, a fiancé much better than the drab Sarah Williams. Mariah would have been an ideal match for Richard's hand, God knew how badly she wanted it. Yet for some inane reason, she had been found wanting.

"Richard!" Alberta snarled, leaping to her feet with such force her chair teetered on its back leg. "I demand an explanation!" Her voice was much higher now, almost comical in her distress. "I refuse to allow you to marry her."

Richard sat back in his chair even-tempered, arms resting coolly by his sides. He looked— bored. His eyes focused on everyone and no one. He said nothing, letting an uncomfortable silence wash over the party giving nothing away. His right hand drummed on the armrests the rhythmic tap, tap, tap, tap of his fingers dropping in quick succession of each other.

"Well, if you insist on this outrageous match I wash my hands of it." Clearing her throat she smoothed the front of her expensive silk gown before lifting her chin defiantly. "I refuse to dine with the likes of her." Aunt Alberta's voice had settled some as she made to move from the table, disgust pinching her face as though something foul poisoned the air. "I would suggest— especially you unmarried girls— to leave at once, lest you spoil your reputations too."

"My dear Aunt, their reputations were in danger long before my bride entered the room." All the brows in the room rose on cue, startled by his reply. He spoke so casually one might think he was talking of the weather, not defending his fiancé from a vicious attack. "It seems the sins of the father damn the child- but what about the sins of the child? Surely they are just as harmful to the family? What do you think Aunt- since you have such intimate experience with these things?"

His face turned from serious to light-hearted curiosity, adding. "Of course, I wouldn't know. Perhaps, your past experience can shed some light on the matter- since cousin Eliza managed impregnate herself with that bastard child her husband rightfully refuses to claim." His smile broadened to an unpleasant toothy sneer as he leaned comfortably into his chair.

"Or was your youngest daughter Henriette not done enough damage as Sir Bernst's mistress? How many basterds have slid from her womb, it is so very hard to keep track." His voice remained calm, level, his eyes never leaving hers. "Tell me, how many dinner invitations were revoked once word had spread of your daughters' libidinous behavior?"

The crone fell into her seat, stunned. Richard turned to his uncle and resumed their conversation with a long sip of wine. He made no notion or gesture to Sarah, effectively ignoring her presence altogether. He said nothing further to his aunt and likewise seemed intent on doing the same with his bride, proceeding as though nothing untoward had ever happened.

Sarah was quiet. Mariah fumed.

His formidable aunt was not, in fact, a threat to anyone now that her secrets had been exposed. The awkwardness that followed consumed every facet of the room, until Mariah was sure she could drown in it. He defended the little minx! Though she had expected some gallantry to be sure, she was otherwise unprepared for the savagery of his defense. Who could have predicted he would chastise a woman of Alberta's standing! I should have been better prepared.

She could see her error and was determined not to make it again. She would need something far more damning than rumor— she would need proof.

Only a few short hours remained…he knew— somehow— it would be tonight.

His anger had turned to a thrill of excitement. Eagerness had a taste, and the flavor lingered on his tongue. He felt the adrenaline of a hunt coursing through his veins. Predator vs. Prey. It had been years since he twisted a dream with such purpose; having done so at his leisure for nigh on a century, it was good to have a cause. Two days he had been planning, patiently waiting the moment she called to him. He dare not to go otherwise, refusing to be caught unawares again. If there was no call then the matter was settled and his fears would all be for not.

But she would call to him— he was certain. And when she did he would be ready. He would rule the world of her dreams, because he was meant to. The labyrinth was only part of his domain— the lesser part if he were honest, but his genius was the mind. No other before, and certainly not after, could boast of such greatness. For as pathetic as mortals were (and Gods knew they were ants) their minds held a power all their own. No other being could dream like the mortals; full of fear and promise, hope and desire, despair and hate. It had taken him centuries to become what he was, to master the art— for it was certainly that— of deception so proficient the mind couldn't tell the difference between magic and its own subconscious. It was easy, and rather amusing, to twist the mind and trick a dreamer. He could create dreams and nightmares from the barest memory, or pull them entirely from his own imagination. Though not with her. He was bound by rules, like all of his kind, and the price to be paid for such defiance— he dared not think on it.

But Sarah had called to him. She had done the impossible, albeit unknowingly, and now he was free to come and go as his mood suited. She was now at his mercy and he had plans. Call it revenge or threat (he didn't care which) that drove his curiosity to monstrous levels, he would go mad not knowing how or why. But he would learn— eventually.

If the Goblin King was anything he was patient, he could wait an eternity— she could not. The game was set— she would lose, devil take the hindmost. For when he learned what he must, and she served her purpose; Sarah Williams would never dream again.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I am excited about where the next chapter will go! I promise next chapter Sarah and Jareth will finally interact. (all good things to those who wait) Please feel free to message me questions, comments, concerns— a good joke. I won't hold chapters hostage for reviews— though they are VERY appreciated! I hope you all liked it and I have not let anyone down.