Chapter 11
And so Ceci and Lelouch, with their own kind of approaches, try to coax the restless hearts of the younger ones. Ceci with her gentle comforting words and stories of reconciliation and forgiveness told to Nunnally in the midst of the endless books in the library, and Lelouch with the sure and smooth strokes of his pencil, teaching the art of beauty and understanding to Rolo by the almost finished gazebo.
It took them a longer time, something that Ceci didn't expect, to finally convince the two to face each other. They met in the Sun Room where tears fell from the two pairs of soft purple eyes before hugs were shared and finally, smiles were exchanged. Nunnally gave Rolo the little story she wrote (or which she dictated and Ceci jotted down to be precise) and Rolo handed her the little portrait he did of his twin sister.
"This is amazing, Rolo," Ceci praises as she studies the boy's drawing.
"And this is quite creative, elf girl," says Lelouch while reading Nunnally's story.
"Oh, Mr. Lamperouge and I drew another one!"
Sitting in between the older man and Nunnally, Rolo turns the page of his sketchbook and Ceci, who is next to Nunnally, peers over his brown head to get a closer look of the picture.
"This is me pushing Nunnally on the swing while Miss Ceci and Mr. Lamperouge watch us underneath the apple tree."
"My hair is not that long," Nunnally observes.
"Well, Mr. Lamperouge said that with art, we can have our own interpretations of our subjects. And to me, your hair is so pretty and long."
Ceci looks intently at the drawing and notes the difference between the way the children and adults were drawn.
With Nunnally and Rolo, the strokes are more unsure and inconsistent yet still, the output is impressive for a seven-year old child. Meanwhile, Ceci and Lelouch are obviously done by someone with experience, someone who understands the language of lines and shadows, someone who can sketch beautifully regardless of the time limit.
The viscount is known for his exceptional talent in arts and at a young age, Rolo is showing potential in that field, too.
But, Mr. Lamperouge... Mr. Lamperouge is at the viscount's level of skills and if he is indeed telling the truth about being the latter's first borne then no wonder...
"What can you say, Miss Ceci?" Rolo's voice snaps her out of her thoughts and instantly, she tells him how well he did.
Nunnally adds as she points at the image of her governess, "Mr. Lamperouge did good, too. You look truly lovely here, Miss Ceci. Oh, is that how you see her, Mr. Lamperouge?"
"That's impossible," Rolo pouts, "He thinks she's a - " Quickly, he covers his mouth before he is able to spill their secret. Nervous, Rolo risks a glance at Mr. Lamperouge to check if the latter's angry but much to his confusion, he finds him looking seriously at the drawing, conveniently avoiding everyone's eyes. Rolo then transfers his gaze to his governess only to find her with a light blush peppering her cheeks.
"Mr. Lamperouge is just admirably talented in drawing," she silently answers.
Ignorant of the building tension, Nunnally giddily inquires, "Miss Ceci, can we put this on the wall of our room? So that we can see it when we wake up and before we go to sleep?"
Grateful for the distraction, Ceci nods and indulges the girl's request, intentionally ignoring the burning gaze at the side of her face. But much to her disappointment, the twins immediately run out of the room in order to post the drawing on their wall. Ceci stares longingly at the vacant space they left beside her, feeling anxious and deflated.
"So you think that I am admirably talented in drawing?"
She sighs then turns to the owner of the smug voice. "It is quite obvious, isn't it? Even the viscount was impressed by your skills."
With a permanent smile on his face, Mr. Lamperouge leans forward. With Rolo now gone to separate them, the man feels suddenly too close, too intimidating for Ceci's convenience. Why she feels intimidated, she does not understand. She was never wary of the man's presence around her before. Only when the children were with them. Yet, she doesn't back away from him.
"But it is a different kind of flattering when the praise came from you, Miss Corabelle."
"And why is that?"
Mr. Lamperouge shakes his head as if the answer is too obvious. "I don't know. Perhaps, because you've been hostile against me since I came here."
"I was not!" she gasps.
He raises a skeptical eyebrow. "All you did was threaten me if I do something harmful to the twins.""
"You gave me reasons to."
"You even slapped me," he points at his cheek.
"I – " "
"Which I indeed deserved." All of a sudden, the atmosphere turns serious. Gone is the playful teasing on Mr. Lamperouge's eyes, gone are the retorts on Ceci's lips. For a moment, they stare at each other for what seems like uncountable years, eyes connected with an invisible thread not allowing anyone to look away for a second. For Ceci, it is rather a hypnotic experience. Exhilarating even. Never in her life does she stare this long at a man. Never had she allowed herself to indulge on such acts of encompassing emotions that would distract her from taking care of the twins and outsmarting the viscount. But today, she did just that twice. Twice with the same man! A younger man at that, though this time is notably longer.
"I truly am remorseful for what I've carelessly said. I hope that you accept my wholehearted apology, ma'am."
"You are already forgiven. I told you that it doesn't really matter to me so long as you treat the children kindly. And you've been proving yourself for days now. I just hope that this isn't short-lived and just for show."
"It isn't. I promise you. I've learned to appreciate the elves presence and," his smile returns, "Surprisingly, they're tolerable."
"And adorable," she adds.
"And adorable."
"Precious."
"Precious."
"Smart."
"Smart."
"And cute."
Mr. Lamperouge clears his throat. "And… cute?"
This time, Ceci grins in satisfaction. "Pleasant." She sticks a hand out between them which Mr. Lamperouge instantly accepts. "This is a truce."
"A truce? See, you were harboring ill-feelings towards me," the man says good-naturedly while shaking her hand.
"As you were with me."
"Perhaps, I was but not all the time. I mean..." Ceci waits for him to continue but Mr. Lamperouge only shakes his head and finally leans away. He rests his head against the back of the couch and sighs deeply. "You're right, Miss Corabelle. They are smart." He turns to her with a serious look on his face. "They remember and learn to apply teachings to their daily lives swiftly."
She mulls over his statement, thinks of how true it is based on her experiences. There is no doubt that Nunnally and Rolo, despite being young, have memory and understanding that surpass children of their age. Both of them are logically, emotionally, and morally intellectual which are a big factor why Ceci's job as their governess is easier and much more enjoyable than the others.
Happy to hear such compliment from someone who was formerly mean to her wards, it is only when Mr. Lamperouge had left the room does Ceci remember a couple of statement's earlier.
"Well, Mr. Lamperouge said that with art, we can have our own interpretations of our subjects. And to me, your hair is so pretty and long."
"Mr. Lamperouge did good, too. You look truly lovely here, Miss Ceci. Oh, is that how you see her, Mr. Lamperouge?"
No.
Of course not.
Impossible.
That isn't what he meant.
The thought is delusional.
And why would she assume such thing?
He was speaking in general terms when he praised the twins. There's no way that he implied something else. And why would he even mean that? For all she knows, Mr. Lamperouge might have a lovely lover left in his hometown.
Right, it's too assuming of her to even connect the twins' statements to his words. Good grief, Ceci, get a hold of yourself!
Rising from her seat, Ceci fixes her skirt before stomping her way out of the room. As if to stomp her ridiculous thoughts out of her mind.
And as if it's a key that opens the door of a lengthy, continuous passage, that day serves as an opening for Ceci and Mr. Lamperouge to spend more time with each other - of course, always with the presence of the twins and Milly - without any incident of scornful exchange between them.
In fact, for the lack of a better word, Ceci is enjoying the group that they somehow created right now. Mr. Lamperouge is surprisingly good with children despite how he tries so hard to mask his enjoyment through sneaky statements that would confuse the young ones, and sometimes, Ceci herself.
She observes that when he begins to fall into Nunnally and Rolo's charms, Mr. Lamperouge would pitch in some riddles or puzzling thoughts throwing them off guard.
Mr. Lamperouge is a man of implications, she understands that now. And of endless sly ideas.
One Monday, they were having a picnic under the shade of an apple tree in the garden when he decided to climb the tree to pick some apples. Ceci's protests fell into deaf ears and were drowned by the children's cheers.
In the end, Mr. Lamperouge did pick an apple but not without falling on his back after the branch he was clinging to break.
Torn between being startled and worried, Ceci reluctantly looked down at him, the question of his condition at the tip of her tongue when all of a sudden a hand yanked her down and she landed on a rather soft surface.
Her head laid on Mr. Lamperouge's stomach as she figured out how she ended up in that position.
"My dress is soiled," she had uttered after wits returned to her.
Mr. Lamperouge had laughed and she felt the rumble of his chest underneath her head. "Sometimes, you have to let yourself get dirty to experience fun. Haven't you climbed a tree before?"
She shook her head while staring up at the leaves above her. "I haven't. There was no reason to."
Suddenly, two brown heads blocked her view and Nunnally had asked, "Are you fine, Miss Ceci, Mr. Lamperouge?"
She hesitated - her waist still tingling by the sudden fall. She watched the leaves sway with the wind and realized that she hadn't looked at them the way she was looking at them that moment. Always, she was sitting properly, gazing ahead and around the garden, watching the children play and run, but never up - never flat on her back, with the scent of grass surrounding her.
She felt fingers playing with her hair. She answered with a smile, "We're fine."
Sometimes, she even found herself consulting the man regarding his talent to improve her technique and knowledge of the skill. Ceci is still the one who mainly teaches the twins about art but Mr. Lamperouge had taken a big role in exploring and providing expert opinions about the subject.
And he was more than just helpful.
He surprised her in one of her music lessons. Notes and melodies naturally came out of his fingers filling the room with melancholic tunes that moved his audience. In fact, Milly had her handkerchief on her face after his performance.
"You played impressively. Did you have a proper piano lesson?" she had asked him as she sat beside Mr. Lamperouge while studying the position of his fingers over the keys.
"I did, but it was brief. It was one of my mother's dreams she imposed on me."
At the mention of his parent, Ceci remembered the viscount's words about the other woman being incredibly ill.
"If it isn't a bother, may I ask how she is doing?"
He gave her a surprised look. "My mother?"
She nodded. "Yes. The viscount told me about her condition. Is she getting better?"
He looked away then cleared his throat. "She's holding on."
The trouble on his face was evident eliciting pity from the governess. How long had he been staying in the mansion? A month? Two months? She had lost count. And that's also how long he had been away from his ailing mother. She couldn't help but remember the time when her parents fell ill and she was away in both circumstances, taking care of other people. Guilt and despair ate her everyday as she read Shirley's letters reporting their worsening condition, wishing that she was there with them, personally attending to their needs. She could only imagine that Mr. Lamperouge was feeling the same.
"You can ask permission from the viscount so that you can pay her a visit," she solemnly suggested. "It is a difficult situation for a son to be separated with his sick mother for a long time. I believe the viscount will understand. And maybe, her health will improve when she sees her only son again."
Mr. Lamperouge was silent for a minute before muttering. "I'll keep that in mind."
Sometimes, during their free time, the twins will encourage Ceci to stay by the unfinished gazebo where they'll play 'Tag' while Mr. Lamperouge works with the builders nearby. Ceci, together with Milly, will sit by the bench as the latter inspects each man so as to dream and search for a potential love interest.
"I am a woman who prefers a man of action over a man who shuts himself in the office all day," the nanny gushes with eyes sparkling with romance. "Look at those biceps, Ceci! They could carry me up to our room where we would talk about our day and plans for tomorrow until we fall asleep."
The man who previously attacked Ceci was long gone, but still she keeps her senses alert, her mind present whenever she is near the gazebo.
"You prefer a man of activity over a man of intellect?"
Milly crosses her arms and huffs. "Who says that those who do physical labor can't be smart and that those stuck in their office are often intelligent? Say, Ceci, which do you prefer?"
"I don't think about those things."
"Oh, come now, dear! You don't let yourself be an ordinary maiden who thinks about men..."
"Because I don't."
"... you're twenty-six, Ceci, you should be looking for a husband and planning for your future family." Milly rolls her eyes. "I feel like we always have this conversation."
"Because you still insist and you do know how it is like for governesses like me," she shrugs, "Having a family... Just finding a husband is a farfetched dream for a woman of undefined status as I. Who would want to marry someone who stays in another house more than she lives on her own? Who will want someone as a wife who takes care of other children more than her own? No one, thus thinking about which type of man I prefer is useless."
"But Mrs. Corabelle had your father and she had you. Ceci, stop pitying yourself." She glares at Milly who only smiles at her coyly. "When true love strikes your heart, not even social status or your wards can stop you from listening and following your heart. You'll be rendered into an utter fool but a fool of the most amazing feeling on earth. Come now, entertain my silly question, will you?"
Ceci watches Rolo catch Nunnally. They're already gasping for air, their laughter turning into coughs. They've been playing for a while and summer cough is something that Ceci wants to badly avoid. She should call it a day but a little later - when their energy died down and their happiness has reached its climax.
Giving in, the governess sighs. "Both."
"Pardon?"
"I would like someone with both intellect and physical strength." She returns her eyes back to the nanny but as she does so, they catch a figure over the blonde lady's head. Mr. Lamperouge had abandoned his saw and is now guiding a sculptor as the latter sculpts Mr. Lamperouge's design on one of the pillars. Momentarily captured, Ceci watches as he meticulously inspects the stonework, caresses the marble and feels the carvings on it. She glances at Milly. "Well, it is alright if he isn't as strong as Goliath just as long as he is capable of doing the important tasks, but he must possess wit, practicality and of course, kindness."
"Hmm?" Milly hums while tapping her cheek. "I can only think of one person who fits your description. Mr. Kururugi."
It's Ceci's turn to roll her eyes, though she does it so mildly. "Now you are being completely delusional, Milly. Have you hit your head?"
"But he fancies you! And he is a wealthy businessman who has a good relationship with the viscount. He is of foreign blood, but he easily got the Master's trust."
Decided that she had filled Milly's fantasies, Ceci rises from her seat and begins approaching her wards.
"He is dreamy, too. You didn't see how he looked at you during the last party. He couldn't take her eyes off you. If I remember it correctly, he specifically asked for your presence, correct?"
Ceci doesn't spare the nanny an answer or even a simple glance. She continues to walk forward with cheeks as red as tomatoes. For indeed she knew what Milly was talking about. She had encountered the businessman herself, even shared a couple of conversations with him that night. To top it all off, Mr. Kururugi asked her for a dance and tried to talk to her in the balcony where only a few people stayed. Both offers she politely declined in the guise of prioritizing the twins.
But she had felt his gaze burning her skin throughout the whole night.
"Are you alright, Miss Corabelle?"
She jumps at the sudden interruption of her thoughts. "Oh, my heart!" she exclaims, her hand clutching her chest.
"Is perfectly in your chest. Sorry to startle you but it looks like something's troubling that pretty head of yours."
Finding her footing, Ceci glances up at Mr. Lamperouge who begins walking alongside her.
"I'm alright, Mr. Lamperouge. Thank you for asking."
"Say, I am a bit curious about what you said before."
The twins have seen them and are now waving exaggeratedly with their arms almost falling off their shoulders.
"What I said before?"
"About you carrying a knife. Do you have one now?"
She doesn't miss a beat. "I do."
"Why?"
Throwing him a quick glance, Ceci doesn't see the uneven rock her foot is going to land on. Losing her balance, she anticipated the soft ground when a large hand encircles her upper arm and she finds the back of her head colliding against a hard chest.
"Careful now, Miss Governess. I can't have you hurt under my watch."
His low whisper tickles her left ear. The moment she looks up, her eyes meet lazy violet ones paired with an equally lazy lopsided smile. His ebony fringe creates a black curtain around their faces, shrouding their expressions from their busy surroundings.
Her heartbeat races, her breath caught. Too close. She was never been this close to a man before. And his scent, he smells of wood and grass and afternoon hardwork. Two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, his collarbones peeking below his neck.
Another hand snakes around her waist then gently guides her to the flat ground. When a decent distance finally separates them from each other, Ceci quickly resumes her steps all the while with her head bowed down concealing her pink blush from Mr. Lamperouge. He lets her go ahead of him but she cannot deny the searing gaze digging her back.
"Because of situations like before," she hastily answers, hoping that resuming their earlier conversation would distract her from the embarrassment she feels.
"Does it happen often?"
She shakes her head. "Not really. Yet it is better to come prepared instead of becoming a victim without putting up a fight."
"'Not really' doesn't necessarily mean that it didn't happen before the latest attack."
The silence in his voice calls for her to turn around and face the man again. "What is it that you wish to accomplish with this conversation, Mr. Lamperouge?"
Casually inserting his hands in his pockets, Mr. Lamperouge flashes him an easy grin completely contrasting the tone of his voice before. "I'm fascinated with knives, too. I actually have one which I carried everywhere with me, though unfortunately, I don't have it now for it is under repair and redecoration. How about we exchange knowledge and techniques on wielding our little silvers?"
"Well – "– "
"Miss Ceci! Mr. Lamperouge!"
All of a sudden, Nunnally and Rolo are on her sides, sweaty and sunkissed, panting loudly like wild gazelles that just ran up and down the hills. "You've been taking too long to get to us so we decided to have a race to get to you," Nunnally cheerfully greets, beads of sweat peppering her forehead.
"Did you see how fast we run?" Rolo asks.
Ceci didn't. "Yes, I did. You're as fast as an arrow shooting in the air."
Gathering their hands, the governess sends an apologetic smile towards Mr. Lamperouge. "Can we talk about it later?"
Mr. Lamperouge renders a bow. "As you wish, my lady. I'll be around."
Nevertheless, another day has come when the viscount asks Ceci of his so-called first borne's behavior and attitude in his estate. Considering the unexpected turn of events, the governess ponders over how she would be reporting almost all good things about their guest when she decided he was bad news during his first weeks in the mansion.
"The children are fond of him?" inquires the viscount with amusement and surprise coloring his voice.
"Yes, they are."
"And how about you, Miss Corabelle?"
"I can say that Mr. Lamperouge has been kind to them. And he is a great help in teaching art to the little masters."
The viscount hums in what Ceci, based on her experience, could only conclude as amusement. He neither believes her nor not. In the end, his judgment of Mr. Lamperouge will solely rely on how he feels about him no matter what she reported to him. He taps the wooden surface of his office table, effectively diverting her attention to his fingers.
"Don't you think that it is his way to easily gain our trust and all of these niceties he has been showing us are nothing but masks to cover his real intentions?"
Ceci lifts her chin up though her throat feels like it's closing. "I haven't discounted that possibility, sir."
"Really now?" The tapping stops. "Because from what I've been hearing around, it seems like not only my children are fond of Mr. Lamperouge."
She gulps but maintains her composure. "I assure you that my judgment will remain objective and I shall always put the twins as my first priority. The truth is what I shall only relay."
For a moment, she is subjected to a silent scrutiny where the viscount's sharp violet eyes look for broken crevices of her resolute armor, but Ceci is used to this act of his. Ever since she was young, her expressions, her manners were watched by the viscount's parents (God bless their souls) as she underwent rigorous lessons until she was deserving to be her mother's successor.
Ever since she was in her teens, when the truth of her situation became clear and inevitable, the viscount had pinned a critical eye on her to assure that Ceci wouldn't cause disgrace to his beloved name.
And since then, Ceci had learned to conceal her emotions, to bury her desires underneath proper etiquette and courtesy until they got completely forgotten.
What she had told Milly earlier was wrong. It's not that she doesn't think about things like infatuation and love at all. It's not that she sees being distracted by men is a nuisance. It's that she doesn't know anymore how to feel such emotions while considering them as something harmless and as a source of happiness.
Years of training had made her a canvas of pure black and white. Gray was never an option.
"Well then," the viscount shrugs. "On other matters, two weeks from now, a party will be held to celebrate the gazebo's finished construction. I want you and the children to go to the tailor for their attires this week. Bring Mr. Lamperouge with you. He will be coming to the party, too."
"Will his clothes be charged on him?"
"No. It will be under my name. Including yours."
Taken aback, Ceci furrows her eyebrows in confusion. "Mine?"
The viscount nods. "Someone will be glad to see you again."
Ceci stops herself from biting her lips as a face immediately appears in her mind.
"That would be all. You're dismissed."
It's past dinnertime.
Even past their bedtime.
But here they are in the confines of the second kitchen where he first saw her eat alone, juggling and throwing knives at each other like professional acts in a circus.
This is past his logical reasoning.
No amount of drafts and scratches of love letters to his lover could stop Lelouch from desiring to spend more and more time with the governess of the house.
The truce was a bad idea. Oh, it was the devil itself. The peace between them only unraveled Miss Corabelle's sides and quirks unknown to him and it's like discovering the most enchanting waterfalls sitting in the depths of the forest.
Nowadays, he constantly berates himself. For wanting to touch her. For wanting those sunlight eyes to gaze up at him. For wanting to remove all of her hairpins so he can run his fingers through her long emerald hair.
For wanting to accompany her during dinner while he listens to her stories and stiff outlooks in life until time is but a concept and they would only stop when the sun starts peeking in the horizon and they have to go back to mere house acquaintances. For being the reason of her smile.
To make her laugh.
Damn, he would want to make her laugh. To hear her bell-like laughter which was how the twins described it.
Oh, he is in danger. In total, absolute, inevitable danger.
"Where did you learn that trick?" Miss Corabelle asks after he threw a kitchen knife in the air and caught it with its handle after he spun on his place.
"From the streets. The streets taught me a lot." He bestows her a long stare - meaningful enough to convey how brutally the streets had taught him tricks at such a young age.
"That was dangerous," she quietly comments.
Lelouch shrugs as he begins to juggle two knives. "Danger can teach us so many lessons that one cannot acquire in the safety of their homes." He catches one knife and throws it at Miss Corabelle's direction which the latter flawlessly captured by its handle. Lelouch, impressed, adds that skill of hers to his box of things he finds attractive but he shouldn't get attracted to. "One and most important example is survival. But what we should be discussing here is where and why you learn to play with sharp objects."
He hears it first before he realizes what passed by his right ear. The blow of air tickles his eardrum as the sound of silver landing on wood resonates behind him. Turning around, he finds the knife she caught earlier perfectly stuck in the middle of the hanging chopping board.
"It was a family tradition. Father taught my sister and me of the sacredness and craftsmanship of silverwares especially knives. Knives were his favorite."
"Why? Do you have a family business related to it?"
When he receives no answer, he gazes back to his companion. Miss Corabelle is already glaring at the clock sitting by the corner of the kitchen.
"It's this late, already?" she mutters worriedly. "My apologies, but I have to excuse myself for the evening. Have a good night, Mr. Lamperouge."
"Wait!" He's an idiot, that's what he is. A fool, a stupid man who has his lover back in his hometown yet entertains the idea of walking another woman to her room in the middle of night. "Why don't we go together? After all, our rooms are just next to each other."
Miss Corabelle hesitates. The struggle between considering what's proper and acceptable is reflected in her eyes. And as she continues to remain conflicted, Lelouch begins regretting spouting such self-assured words.
"I mean, if it's alright with - "
"Alright."
For the first time since he came to the mansion, the journey along the dark corridors feels suffocating. Anytime now, the walls will collapse and bury them under its rubbles. The portraits will come to life, their ghosts will fly restlessly around them blubbering tragic life stories and curses. And the floor will open beneath them, large cracks will snake in between their feet until fall into the hole, eating them alive by soil and lava.
It is chaotic, the apocalypse happening right before their eyes and they will be the first casualties.
But in reality, it is only Lelouch's heart thumping wildly in his chest as he walks beside the governess. He is breathless. His lungs are failing to function properly. Is he sick? Is he dying?
No.
Not at all.
He knows the reason why but this time, he decides to deny himself of the explanation. For he had never felt this way before whenever he was with Kallen. And this, relating this elation to something unpleasant is his way to at least consider his lover.
Oh, Lelouch you are in big trouble. A trouble you have to escape as soon as he can. In fact, right now.
"Here we are. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Lamperouge."
When did they reach their rooms? It's a miracle he didn't collide with anything and caused disturbance in the solemnity of the estate. It's a miracle he didn't embarrass himself infront of Miss Corabelle.
"I look forward to it, my lady. Good night."
It's past dinnertime.
Even past their bedtime.
This is past his logical reasoning.
But Lelouch Lamperouge stays up all night drafting love letters and what not's for Kallen Stadfeldt. Yet nothing he had written seemed enough, no words seemed to equal the redhead's adoration for him. For each stroke of his pen, a different face haunts his mind until he gives up and irritably throws his pen across the room.
As a habit, he grabs his pencil and sketchbook and begins doing the only thing that could keep him sane tonight. And as the night progresses, he lets his hand follow its inaudible beat, his mind blank, his eyes dazed, until a face so delicate and lovely transpires on the paper.