Notes: Before I start this latest installment, I feel that I should thank LackOfName, whose actual name I don't know (I think that was kind of the point,) for his or her extremely thoughtful and well-written review. You practically wrote a book report! And that's okay, because at this point the word count for this story is over 100,000 and I kind of feel like I'm writing a book. Anyway, LackOfName, thank you very much for being so attentive and thoughtful! I enjoyed reading your review very much. It actually gave me some new ideas for where to take this story and which characters to introduce to make it happen. So thanks again for giving me the creative impetus needed to keep this story going!
Also, if anyone is wondering what I am doing with my life as of late, I am now in graduate school. Woot woot! Enjoy the story! :)
The forested landscape around Phantomhive manor seemed to be swimming in a gauzy bowl of mist as its inhabitants set out the next morning for London. Sebastian had packed all of their essentials and secured the manor the night before, and now they set off for Lydia's native city in two carriages, one driven by Sebastian, holding herself and her brother, and the other driven by Bard, carrying Tanaka and Finnian. Aberlaine was riding between the two carriages on a horse. As soon as they arrived in London, they were going to split up- her father would travel directly to Scotland Yard headquarters to report the incident from the previous day, the Phantomhive siblings and Sebastian would continue on to the townhouse, and the servants would travel to the Royal Hospital to visit Meirin. Ciel and Lydia had decided to hold off on visiting until she regained consciousness, as Madame Red had advised against overcrowding her quarters while she recovered. Aside from allowing them to accomplish many things at once, this strategy meant it would be that much harder for them to be followed. Sebastian wore a hood as he drove their carriage, and the siblings kept its windows tightly covered. Once again they had pried the Phantomhive crest off the front of its door, keen to arrive in London as anonymously as possible.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," Lydia told her brother, adjusting the skirts of her dress as the carriage rolled over a bump. Ciel focused his visible eye on her expectantly.
"I am aware that your father accepted certain….duties to the queen which he took upon his marriage to our mother. Before that, those duties had been performed by our grandfather and by his father before him. The fact that our grandfather did not produce a male heir meant that the duties were passed to Vincent through marriage, as he wed the eldest daughter of the line. However, since Vincent and Rachel once again added a viable male heir to the Phantomhive line, that would mean-"
Ciel did not bat an eye. "Indeed," he stated, leaning back against his seat and squeezing his fingers slightly around the head of his cane. "I have inherited my father's position as the Queen's guard dog."
"Have inherited? As in already?" Lydia inquired, raising her eyebrow. She had suspected this truth for a while now. While in her brother's office she had observed a plethora of correspondence from the royal palace, more than would have been usual even for a noble. However, she found it significantly strange that the Queen would see fit to thrust Ciel into this role well before he was of age. Of course, he wasn't exactly alone….
Ciel dipped his head in a nod. "To tell the truth, I have long suspected that the royal family is aware of the true nature of our butler, and has been perhaps for several generations. It is a taboo topic which never surfaces during my meetings with the Queen. However, I have always found it quite notable that she never asks about my methods and never seems to question how a thirteen-year-old boy manages to solve crimes which leave Scotland Yard stumped, and emerge unharmed from even the most dangerous situations."
Lydia frowned as she took this information in. So the queen knew about Sebastian, and had known all along. That would explain more thoroughly the order she had given to her mother back then, Lydia mused. It had been a play for the Crown's own interests, a gamble that Rachel's second and only legitimate child would be a male, an inheritor. And it had paid off- for Her Majesty. Lydia thought briefly of the letter from her grandmother which now lay in ashes in the manor's hearth, and bunched the fabric of her dress in her fist.
Ciel watched her hardening expression with puzzlement. "I assure you, Sebastian has been at my side at all times while I conduct investigations based on Her Majesty's orders. The sudden death of my father left a void which could not long go unfilled."
Lydia took a breath and forced a patient smile over her face. "Is that so? If Sebastian is with you, that significantly lessens my worry. Even so…."
"The one thing I am worried about, though, is the possibility that I might soon be called away to attend to a case which Her Majesty wishes for me to resolve. It has been some time since I had my last one, and if there's one thing I know about the underground, it never sleeps. My information network has been quieter than usual lately. Though that may seem like a good sign, I have learned with experience that it really isn't. It means something is brewing. However, to be tasked with a case for the Crown at this time would be most inconvenient. I am already devoting my full attention to the identification and apprehension of those who attacked our manor yesterday. And aside from that, there is the unsolved matter of the gunmen at grandfather's funeral, and that of grandmother's will, and the possibility that all of these things are interconnected. I am hoping whatever is brewing out there will stay under the surface for a while longer so we can sort all this out."
Lydia nodded in agreement, wondering what she ought to do if Ciel was given a case. She wanted to help him, of course, in whatever way possible, but she had no idea what that would entail.
At that moment, a soft tap on the outer wall of the carriage reminded them of Sebastian's presence. "Pardon me, masters, but we have reached the outskirts of London and will be dispersing to our separate destinations. I will take the least conspicuous route to the townhouse."
"Very good, Sebastian," Ciel replied. Out of habit, Lydia reached for the window's curtain to take a glimpse of London, but stopped as her brother shook his head. "Don't risk it," he advised, staring at the door with a determined expression. "We'll be there soon."
/
Lydia had never been to her family's extensive London property, at least not that she could remember. Despite the circumstances, it was almost a relief to take up residence in a place with no creeping memories or sinister shadows attached. Sebastian showed her to her room, a lovely flower-wallpapered abode with a curtained bed and a generous alcove facing east, toward the Thames River. Ciel was staying down the hall in what she assumed was his regular bedroom. They had eaten their lunches in the carriage while travelling, and Sebastian set to work making dinner in the kitchen while Lydia wandered the halls, observing. Signs of Madame Red's personal flair were everywhere, and Lydia guessed that the London socialite used this residence far more often than Ciel himself did. Finally she found the library, and settled in there to wait for dinner. She was tired from a day of travelling, and her wounded shoulder was stiff and sore. The fear still running thick in her bloodstream had exhausted her mind as well, and she tried not to beat her head against the tangle of obligations she must face now that she was back in London. She had to go to the post office and send her schoolwork to the appropriate departments at her university. She also had to stop by her office and see if any new work orders had come in during her absence. If so, she was going to have to take Sebastian with her. With a team of murderers out for her blood, it simply wasn't practical to be running about the woods on her own. She wondered what the demon would think of her ongoing projects. He was still a bit hacked off at her, she knew, due to her recent orders, but she also knew he would feel better if he was allowed to act as her protector again.
Dinner was a rowdy affair, seeing that the servants and her father returned from their outings halfway through and proceeded to give their reports on the state of things. According to Aberlaine, Scotland Yard had taken his information and opened a case on the matter at hand. (Lydia pretended not to notice Ciel roll his eyes and mutter 'See how far it gets them,' to Sebastian.) Bard and Finnian relayed that Meirin had not regained consciousness, but was receiving the best of care and was expected to return home in a week or so. The hospital had agreed to alert them as soon as she woke up from the sleep induced by the ether used to anesthetize her. Halfway through this, Madame Red arrived unexpectedly and insisted on hugging everyone, even the servants, even Sebastian, and Lydia was truly glad she had not died yesterday, if only for the chance to see the expression of highly controlled alarm upon the demon's face. Their aunt fussed especially over Ciel's and Lydia's injuries, and, though exhausted, Lydia was touched by the worry in her eyes. So it was that with newly applied bandages and travel cramps in their legs, the weary Phantomhive siblings practically had to lean on each other while trudging up the stairs to retire for the night. Lydia noted with a kind of sleepy satisfaction that Ciel no longer seemed so averse to touching her, although she knew far better than to mention it.
Despite her exhaustion, sleep eluded her as she tossed and turned in her unfamiliar bed, unable to silence her analytical mind that insisted on perusing all the odd details of the various mishaps they had encountered so far. Eventually she dragged herself, a book, and a blanket over to the fog-blurred alcove and curled up in the padded chair, reading by the light of the moon. She awoke in the early morning to find herself tucked back into bed, a warm ball of black fur snuggled beside her, delicate paws resting on her fingers. She smiled in amusement and slipped back into her dream.
/
The next day, the residents of the London townhouse began their work in earnest. Sebastian served breakfast, secured the grounds, and then embarked with Ciel and the carriage into town to conduct their affairs at the House of Lords and the Royal Archives. Bard began accustoming himself to the new kitchen, Finnian to the grounds and gardens around the residence. Tanaka sipped tea in the parlor, and Aberlaine returned to Scotland Yard to request his assignment as an investigator to the Phantomhive case. They had decided over breakfast to refrain from allowing any unnecessary persons onto the grounds until they could secure them more fully, thus, Madame Red was obliged to go to the front gates to field her many callers. Not very discreet, Ciel had huffed before he'd left, and Lydia had to agree. Her aunt seemed to be quite popular. Fortunately, while all the ruckus was going on at the front gate, she was able to seize the opportunity to slip out the back and make her way to the nearest post office to send her completed classwork. That done, she proceeded to walk the five miles from the upper crust mansions and seasonal houses of Britain's wealthiest to her regular haunt down in Camden Town. Crossing the familiar streets, Lydia waved and inventively fielded questions about where she'd been to her neighbors and acquaintances. She was headed to the urban base of her workplace, after which she thought to stop in and see Thoms Weatherstaff and family, if she had the time. The grizzled carriage driver was the only one of her Camden Town circle who knew where she had actually been. The streets seemed different cloaked in fog, dimming the gas-lit lamps and obscuring the sun. People just down the block looked like shadowy specters drifting in between this world and the next.
She began to feel a nervous prickle down her spine as she walked through the ground floor entrance of her office building. Shivering, she jogged lightly up the stairs, tipped her hat to the almond peddler on his way down, and stopped off by the bulletin board to look for any folders with her name on them. Sure enough, there were two heavy yellow parchments tacked across the top, which she pulled down and tucked into her cloak. Her field assignments secured, Lydia ventured further down the hall, intending to check in with the manager and speak with her fellow employees, whom she had not seen in several weeks. She hoped they would not ask her too many questions about the phone call which Ciel had made from the manor to secure her an extended leave of absence. Her fellow workers were no more or less prone to gossip than most other folk, but she knew even they would find it hard to resist such an intriguing topic as their unassuming forestry girl's mysterious connection to British nobility.
Lydia never made it into the office. She reached the end of the hallway and drew up across from the desk where Irena Nelson, the office manager, conducted her affairs. Irena was not alone at the desk, however. There was a person standing in front of it, leaning halfway across the wooden partition, who seemed to be speaking very intensely. Irena looked a bit cowed, but Lydia noticed only the height of the person's body and the thick hood covering their head. In the time it took her heart to freeze, Irena peered behind her insistent visitor and smiled a hopeful smile. "Oh!" she called innocently. "Lydia!"
The person turned around, and in the shadow of the hood Lydia saw the ears full of piercings, the bright and cunning eyes, the deep blue teardrop tattoo. She threw the door closed and ran.
She heard Irena call her name again in puzzlement, and then in alarm as the assassins' leader quit her desk and came dashing down the hall after his quarry. Lydia nearly flattened several people on her way down the stairs, blurting out mindless apologies as she made it through the door and back onto the street. She started running in the first direction she faced, her mind a hailstorm of panic. They knew where she lived! They had found where she worked! Now they were coming after her, right in the middle of the bloody London! Lydia turned her head frantically as she raced through the crowds. Where was a constable when you needed one?! She heard cries behind her, and whirled to see the tall man tearing his way through milling pedestrians in pursuit of her. She continued running, her heart screaming every time she rounded a corner, expecting to be hit from the side by one of his accomplices. However, the further she fled, the more she deduced that he seemed to be alone this time. Quite possibly his group had spilt up and gone to separate places to gather information, not expecting to actually run into her. Lydia cursed her terrible timing as she hurled an umbrella stand behind her, momentarily knocking the leader's legs out from under him. She glanced desperately up the hill toward her neighborhood, then purposely turned and dashed in the other direction. That place was not safe anymore. Her assailant was dangerous and quite possibly armed. She could not in good conscience lead him to the Weatherstaff's home, or back to the townhouse where her aunt was staying.
As Lydia stumbled across the edge of Camden Town, she glanced to her right and saw the Royal Treasury looming over the block. Not only that, her eyes widened as she took in the line of royal guards stationed outside its gates. If she could reach them and make them aware of her distressing situation, her pursuer would have no choice but to flee. He could not possibly face so many armed men alone. Lydia raced in that direction, but as she did the sound of the footfalls behind her increased, and she knew the man had guessed her plan. A hand grazed her left elbow and she slapped it away with her right, eliciting a gasp of pain as her rock-hard limb bruised his flesh. Suddenly, the man was jerked to a stop just inches from Lydia's back, his own arm caught in the grip of a muscular fishmonger. "I say, lad, wot's this 'ere? That young girl don't look like she's a mind to be chased so!"
Lydia made it to the curb, thanking God for kind strangers. She skidded to a halt and frantically looked for a safe way through the tangled lanes of horses and buggies. A shout behind her caused her to snap her head around, and she gasped in horror as she saw the hooded man broken free, careening toward her with a look in his eyes that let her know, louder than any cry, that this was his final charge.
Lydia dropped all usual social graces right there on the curb. Dashing out into the street, she grasped hold of the front of a low-covered wagon and wrenched herself into the driver's seat, boldly seizing the reins from the hands of a gentleman dressed in black. "I apologize sincerely, sir!" she shouted as she gave the reins a heavy slap and the wagon jerked forward. She turned her head just enough to see a fraction of her pursuer's furious face before he vanished from sight in a blur of hoofs and movement. The haggard girl braced her feet against the curve of the seat-box as she hauled on the reins, not used to steering a team on such a narrow lane. Lydia and the unfortunate man she had abducted flew up the street amid shouts of alarm, nearly colliding with several carriages and a donkey, before finally making the turn onto a wider and more streamlined road. Lydia slowed the horses to a safer pace and leaned her head around the side of the wagon, searching the roads behind them for any sign of the assassins' leader. She saw nothing but regular people calmly going about their day. It would be lovely to be just a regular person going about my day, she pondered wistfully. Then, coming back to herself, she whirled to face the man still beside her in the seat. "I am so, so sorry for my abrupt conduct back there, sir. Truly, if it hadn't been a life or death situation, I would never have-"
Lydia cut off as the unexpected sound of deep, smooth laughter burst suddenly from the shadowed face below the man's hat. She stared in absolute bafflement as it continued, becoming louder, higher, more uncontrolled. The man suddenly threw back his head, and Lydia found herself looking into a deathly white face framed by gray hair with a small, dark trail of stitches just below the right eye. The Undertaker grinned madly down at her, his voice rolling out between bursts of shaking laughter. "Oh hoh hoh, that was just too good! Too good, I tell you! You Phantomhives are something- he he he!- something else! That was simply the most diviiiiiine laugh I've had in ages!"
