Hiiiii! Once again thanks so much for reading. I really miss libraries right now in quarantine...hopefully they safely reopen soon. But that's just a little hint of what's to come in this chapter. ;) As usual, there will be a few quotes from Cassandra Clare's books or the live-action version of Beauty and the Beast. Happy reading!
Shoutout again to everyone reading from US, China, Denmark, Italy, Netherlands, Belgium and India! LOVE YOU ALL.
REPEATED UPDATE: I'm thinking of writing an AU fanfic featuring most of the characters in the Shadowhunters novels (yes, that means Mortal Instruments, Infernal Devices, Dark Artifices) about their life stuck at home during Covid-19. If you think that would be fun to read, leave a comment and favorite!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in TID or Beauty and the Beast, nor their stories.
Tale as Old as Time...
CHAPTER 7: VOLUMES
1885, Goodramgate, England
"You are the wildest, most gorgeous thing I've ever seen," Mortmain breathed. "Nobody deserves you."
Mortmain straightened the lapels of his red coat, then craned his neck to unnecessarily dust off its pristine golden buttons. He flashed a toothy smile at the puddle by his feet, his own glinting smirk shining back at him.
With one last fleeting glance at his reflection, Mortmain nodded once, confidently, and sauntered up the steps to the front entrance of the York Institute.
His mundane touch unable to activate the locking mechanism designed only to respond to shadowhunter blood, Mortmain raised his fist and knocked curtly on the thick wood. He wondered briefly if Nathaniel would find some targets for him to shoot later, when the knob twisted, revealing a thin middle-aged man with a white beard and onyx eyes.
"Good afternoon, sir," he said, frowning. "How may I help you?"
Mortmain was hoping that a frail old woman would have answered the door; she would have been much easier to charm and woo than this man. He whipped out his charming grin nonetheless, and stuck his hand out. "Axel Mortmain. I am here to speak with Mr. Starkweather. Tell him it concerns his granddaughter."
"Let him in, Gottshall." A hoarse voice called from beyond the entrance.
Gottshall nodded and swung the door open, gesturing Mortmain inside. The interior was dark, and curtains covered the windows from letting in sunlight. He chuckled quietly to himself. This was going to be a lot easier than he had thought.
Mortmain approached the armchair where Aloysius sat by the fire, taking off his coat and setting it on the arm of the chair across from his. "Good day, Mr. Starkweather."
The elderly man grunted in response. He appeared much more haggard than when Mortmain had last seen him.
Mortmain folded his hands in his lap and straightened his broad shoulders. "Aloysius, if I may?" He didn't wait for a response, but ambled on in a strident tone.
"You see, Theresa...she is the most beautiful girl in the village. She needs a strong man to protect her."
Seeing that Aloysius did not move, simply continued to stare at Mortmain as if he was looking past him, Mortmain cleared his throat and continued.
"Theresa is not coming back, Mr. Starkweather. At least not today. You know how those Branwells are." He laughed, trying to get a response out of Aloysius. Nothing? He groaned inside.
"Nonetheless, I would like to help an old man and his granddaughter. As you most probably know, I am the strongest, most capable man in town," Mortmain commented, puffing out his chest slightly. He seemed to tower even more over the older man.
"Being a polite gentleman myself, I came to request Tessa's hand in marriage."
The steady hum of the roaring flames was the only sound in the room. Mortmain tried to hide his increasing anxiety as Aloysius finally snapped his gaze to his, faded dark eyes glaring.
"Strange men should not enter my home and call my granddaughter by her Christian name. That is my Tessa."
Mortmain's inner conscious chided him quickly, then urged him to counter. "Oh, of course, Mr. Starkweather. I meant to speak of her as Miss Gray." He broke Aloysius' gaze, rubbing his clammy hands together. He had hunted hundreds of deer, eaten four dozen eggs in one sitting, and saved maidens from a village fire, yet he couldn't face an eighty-nine year-old grandfather?
"No." Aloysius' voice was soft but lethal. "You stay away from my Tessa, boy." And, obviously dismissing him, Aloysius turned his gaze towards the window instead, looking in the opposite direction from where Mortmain stood.
Mortmain tried not to seethe through his teeth. He could knock this man out in one blow to the head. Calm down, Mortmain, he thought despairingly, you know that setting a hand on Aloysius will mean that you'll never get Tessa. And you need to marry Tessa.
Feeling invigorated by his mission, Mortmain shook his head slightly and bent down to retrieve his coat. "Of course, sir. I completely understand. But know that having me around would mean that Tessa- ahem, Miss Gray- would always be safe."
He slipped on his coat and bowed towards the old man, even though his gaze was averted. "You will change your mind, Mr. Starkweather." Mortmain's voiced was laced with an intense seriousness. "Until that day, I bid you adieu."
Mortmain spun on his heel, jamming his shoulder into Gottshall on his way out. The poor servant winced, watching helplessly as Mortmain slammed the door shut behind him.
-O-o-O-
1885, London, England
Will tried to conceal his large frame behind the wall in which the kitchen doorway swung open, revealing Tessa laughing as Bridget sung some terribly depressing ballad. His eyes softened watching Tessa cut out scones; he couldn't turn his gaze away from her lithe fingers as she placed the dough gingerly on a large baking sheet, twirling around Bridget as she did so.
She was a guest, not a servant, and yet she had the decency in her heart to help the Institute's cook. Will gulped, at last trudging towards the dining room.
Sophie and Gideon were busying themselves setting the table, while Jem, Gabriel, and Charlotte were gathered around a piece of parchment next to his seat. They were so engrossed in their work that they didn't notice his entrance.
"Morning," Will said, his voice sounding much grumpier and gruff than he intended.
Just then, Tessa and Bridget entered the room, the first holding a plate piled with steaming-hot blueberry scones and the latter balancing trays of lightly buttered toast.
Tessa's smile lit up her face as Gideon grabbed a scone and stuffed it into his mouth, despite her warnings that they had just come out of the oven, and Sophie slapped him playfully on the shoulder.
She greeted each of them, and when her gaze finally met Will's, her grin reached her eyes in a look that wasn't pity. In fact, Will might even bargain that she was happy to see him. Before he made a foolish mistake, Will quickly averted his eyes and reached for a piece of toast.
"Thank you Bridget, and thank you, Tessa!" Charlotte chirped gratefully as she bounced over to the girl to pour her a cup of chamomile. "How did you sleep?
Will tried not to make it too obvious that he was watching Tessa, who now tucked some of her loose tendrils of hair escaping her bun behind her ear. Her beauty captivated Will in a way he didn't understand.
"Very well, thank you," Tessa replied. She then let out a startled chuckle as Jem dropped a scone and piece of toast on her plate. "Much appreciated, Jem!"
Will sat furthest away from Tessa, but he was surprised when she turned to him, the corners of her mouth lifting upwards. "Will, how was your night?"
He blinked. Will was caught off guard, quickly turning away from her large, gray eyes. Why wasn't she afraid of him? "Fine," he mumbled, utterly confused. He had chased her off last evening, and she acted as if...as if he was human, and that nothing had happened the night before. Angel, what was wrong with her?
"Will, what is wrong with you?" A voice hissed in his ear, reversing his thoughts, and Will almost choked on his toast. Jessie floated behind his head, her feathers lightly brushing his fur. "Please at least try to act like a gentleman. This is the first girl you've talked to in years!"
"Jessie-"
"Will," she spat, "come on. If not for yourself, try for us." And with that, leaving him feeling guilty and terribly annoyed, Jessie flew off towards Jem and Gabriel.
Will let out a string of curses his mother would have beat him for under his breath, and reached for one of the scones Tessa had baked. Despite his massive size, Will humored Jessamine, and used his cutlery to place a small tidbit of scone into his mouth. It melted on his tongue, but he could barely taste it.
"Mmm, Miss Gray, these are delicious."
She turned to him, an expression of amusement lighting her features as Will gulped and tossed the rest of the scone into his mouth. Now that he was a beast, he ate a whole lot more; might as well be unashamed of it.
Tessa sipped her tea, and he could swear that she was trying to hide her grin.
Charlotte's rustling turned everyone's attention. "Now do tell us, Ms. Potts," Thomas addressed Charlotte by her endearing nickname as he settled down at the table, "what are you working on, with the urgency to do, so during breakfast?"
She chuckled in response, but her heart wasn't into it. "I am drafting a letter to the Consul. Trying to save Mr. Starkweather," she said, smiling warmly at Tessa who's eyes widened with gratitude.
"This means a lot to me, Charlotte." Her face suddenly paled, and she quickly stood up, dropping her napkin on the floor.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "You've just reminded me, my grandfather will be worried sick if I don't send him a letter, or a-a message. I am supposed to return this afternoon."
Tessa could only imagine how her grandfather would react when she didn't come home before dark. With a shudder, she quickly excused herself and dashed to her room.
-O-o-O-
Dear Grandfather,
I hope this letter finds you well. All is fine at the London Institute; Ms. Charlotte Branwell is kindly working her hardest to ensure your safety. She has truly embraced me with support, and I am only grateful for her actions. I am writing to tell you that I will not be coming home immediately. I have businesses to attend to here in London, but please do not fear for me, as all the shadowhunters here have been nothing but caring since I have arrived.
I hope you are eating, and not giving Cook and Gottshall a difficult time!
With love,
Tessa Gray
Tessa dipped the tip of her quill into the ink pot, signing her name with a flourish at the end of the short note. After several attempts, she had decided that a short and sweet message would be the most effective in reassuring her grandfather, and wouldn't give him too many clues to pick up on. He didn't need to know that the majority of the Institute's residents were talking household items, after all...
She folded up the letter and tucked it into the pocket of her dress, stowing it away until she could find someone to deliver it. Tessa spun around out of her chair, only to find a thin parcel slipped under the door.
Tessa frowned, but hurried over to pick up the package. It was neither signed nor addressed. She quickly untied the paper binding the gift, and squealed with delight as the wrapping fell to the ground.
She hugged the novel to her chest; it was a new copy of Vathek, written by William Beckford. Tessa cracked the book open to its title page, only to find a little note scrawled across the bottom in messy script.
For Tessa Gray, on the occasion of being given a copy of Vathek to read:
Caliph Vathek and his dark horde
Are bound for Hell, you won't be bored!
Your faith in me will be restored-
Unless this token you find untoward
And my poor gift you have ignored.
-Will
Tessa burst out laughing, clapping her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles. Oh, she had never read such horrendous poetry!
Once Tessa had contained her laughter, she flopped backwards onto her bed, a genuine smile stretched across her face. She had never been gifted a book before, let alone one by a stranger she hardly knew; nevertheless, Will's act of kindness just prompted her eagerness to discover what he was hiding.
When Tessa flipped to the first chapter, a tiny piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Another note? She wondered, squinting to read the nearly illegible cursive. But from what she could make out, it said, Meet me at stairwell tonight. 8 o' clock.
The rest of the day passed by in a blur; Tessa helped Sophie with some of Charlotte's correspondence by acting as a scribe, and later assisted Bridget with whipping up some tomato stew for dinner. Jem and Gabriel sequestered her and made her laugh, which was the most fun she had in ages.
By the time Tessa had helped clear the dinner table and bid the shadowhunters good night, it was almost eight. She stood in front of her dressing mirror and let her long, brown hair loose. The light waves settled along the back of the pretty, elegant cream-colored dress Sophie insisted Tessa change into. With one last glance at the clock, a few minutes before eight, she scurried to the stairwell.
She was surprised to see Will already waiting there, leaning against the banister, his vibrant eyes locked on something distant. At the slight sound of her impending footsteps, Will turned towards her.
His smile was gentle with a twinge of surprise. "I am glad you came, Tessa," Will said, his voice low yet soft.
Tessa beamed back at him. "Of course I did." The glint in his blue eyes was warm, and it sent a jolt of electricity through her. He seemed different from the previous night, more open and kind.
"Much obliged for the copy of Vathek- and that awful poem, Will!" She cracked a grin, and he let out a nervous laugh.
"Well, I wouldn't say awful..." Will muttered, but chuckled along with Tessa. "My pleasure, Tessa. It was no trouble; I have tons of books."
The way she looked at him, as if he was not a beast, made his heart stutter in a rhythm unbeknownst to his body.
For a moment, Will's eyes met hers, his own a very dark blue. Then his expression shifted, ever so slightly, although Tessa could not say what the change meant.
Will began to ascend the stairwell, and Tessa matched his pace as they climbed the marble steps together.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
After two flights of stairs, the two reached the level Will had planned to bring her to. Even though they had walked in silence, it was the companionable kind that Tessa did not mind. It was the type of silence that indicated that their presence together was enough.
Will paused in the middle of the torchlit corridor before a set of doors- big and made of dark oak, with thick brass hinges. Tessa raised her brow in anticipation.
"Here we are now," he said, the doors suddenly swinging open at his touch.
The room they entered was longer than it was wide, with rectangular oak tables set down the middle of it. Each table was illuminated by an ostensibly glowing white stone, while lit chandeliers hung from the tall ceilings. Rows upon rows of bookshelves towered above them, reaching spiral staircases that twined into darkness.
Tessa's jaw dropped at the sight of such splendor; this library looked like heaven to her. There were endless amounts of books, more than she could ever read in her lifetime.
"Will, it's wonderful," Tessa breathed.
His face softened as he watched Tessa, taking in her surroundings like she had just found a room filled with treasure.
"Well, if you like it so much," Will replied, "then it's yours."
She let out an excited squeal, too busy fawning over the library to care about Will's thoughts of her un-ladylike response.
"This is the Great Library," said Will. "Every institute has one, but this is the largest of them all- the largest in the West, at any rate." He leaned against the doors, arms crossed across his chest, as he watched Tessa spin with her arms wide open.
"Have you read all of the books here?"
Will scoffed. "Well, some of them are in Greek."
"Was that a joke? Are you making jokes now?" Tessa teased, slowing her gleeful turning.
"Maybe."
She laughed, running over to a nearby bookshelf. Will thought her laugh was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and that would outrank Jem's soulful violin playing.
Tessa startled as she approached the shelves, which were hidden behind screens of fretted metal. She turned back, her face a portrayal of confusion as she looked at Will. "Why are they all behind bars? As if this is a literary prison?"
Will grinned. "Some of these books are dangerous," Will murmured. "It's wise to be careful."
"Well, one must always be careful of books," said Tessa, "and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us."
"I'm not sure a book has ever changed me," Will replied. "Well, there is one volume that promises to teach one how to turn oneself into an entire flock of sheep-"
Tessa cut him off. "Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry," she replied, determined not to let him run off wildly with the conversation.
"Hmm," Will responded amusingly, unpeeling himself from the door and making his way towards Tessa where she stood enveloped in the bookshelves.
He watched as Tessa wrinkled her nose, searching for something among the myriad of titles dotting the shelves. "Do you have novels?" She asked, skimming her fingers along the screen. "Books are for reading, not for turning oneself into livestock."
Will stifled a chuckle, his eyes glittering. "Whatever you say, Miss Gray. I think we may have a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland roaming the shelves somewhere."
Tessa frowned, about to counter that she had already read that when she was a small child, when she spied a familiar volume perched on another shelf.
"Oliver Twist!" She cried excitedly. "Have you any other of Mr. Dickens's novels?" She clasped her hands together in anticipation. "Oh, it would be absolutely delightful if you had A Tale of Two Cities!"
Will raised his brow and followed Tessa as she shifted to peruse more titles. "That silly thing? Men going around getting their heads chopped off for love? Ridiculous." He made sure to watch her expression as he noted, "Perhaps not. Here you'll find all sorts of advice about how to chop someone else's head off if you need to- much more useful."
Tessa spun to glare at him, first for his critique of one of her favorite books and second for his dark humor, but he had already scrambled up a wooden ladder to reach a book from the upper shelves.
Will pulled one of his favorites from the shelf, hopped agilely off the top rung, and landed besides Tessa. "I prefer The Trail of the Serpent. More adventure, less domestic drama." He paused, thinking. "Not as good as The Moonstone, though. Have you read Collins?"
Tessa yelped enthusiastically. Will never ceased to surprise her. "I absolutely adore Wilkie Collins!" Tessa cried, her eyes shining with delight. "Oh-Armadale! And The Woman in White!"
She was about to go on, when she glanced up at Will, who was looking down at her with a paw over his mouth and his eyes lit in mirth. "Wait...are you laughing at me?"
"Not at you," Will replied Will, grinning, "more because of you. I've never seen anyone get so excited about books before. You'd think they were diamonds."
"Well, they are, aren't they?" Tessa asked, twirling a strand of her thick hair around her index finger. Will had the strange, sudden urge to reach out and do the same. "Isn't there anything you love like that? And don't say 'spats' or 'lawn tennis', or something silly."
"Good Lord," he said with mock horror, "it's like she knows me already."
Tessa huffed and swatted him, but Will smirked at her fake sense of annoyance as he watched the corners of her mouth quirk upwards.
Will's gaze passed over her face for a moment, his eyes delineating her face, then her throat, down to her waist, before rising up to her face again, where he lingered on her mouth.
There was a warmth in Tessa's eyes that he had never seen before in any girl.
"It's late," Will said abruptly, quickly looking away from her. "I should show you back to your room."
Tessa began to protest, but paused as she looked towards the wide windows lining the walls. She could glimpse the beautiful sparkle of stars, and felt the close presence of Will besides her.
She gulped, and nodded. It was rather late, the softness of Will's fur only illuminated by the nearby witchlight. Brushing the hair out of her face, Tessa gathered herself and followed Will out into the corridor.
They proceeded to walk softly down the stairs in the quiet Institute, the comfortable silence between them speaking volumes. When they reached Tessa's door, Will turned to her. He fidgeted with his hands.
"I really enjoyed spending time with you, Miss Gray." Will's eyes burned into hers, his blue gaze startling Tessa. He then cracked a smile. "Despite your terrible taste in literature-"
"Hey!" Tessa protested, raising her brow. "A Tale of Two Cities is incomparable to any other novel. I'll have you know, Mr. Herondale," she took a step closer to him and pressed her finger to his chest, "that it is a story of love and compassion. And you must be blind not to be affected by it."
Even though Tessa had approached him to joke, she suddenly realized how close she was standing to Will. He towered above her, yet this time, he wasn't intimidating.
She hastily stepped back, stumbling against the wall. She felt heat rise to her cheeks as she bit her lip. "Good night, Will," she said, hardly trusting her voice to come out at all.
Will watched as she slipped through the door, her gray eyes the last he saw before the door closed between them. "Good night, Tess," he whispered in reply.
Thank you SO MUCH for reading! I appreciate it a lot. If you're starting school soon, I wish you the best of luck!
Stay tuned next time for more! Favorite and leave a comment; in the words of the characters, that would be much obliged. ;)
xoxo