~Chapter 2: An Innocent Demon, A Rich Beggar, and a Man Refusing Money~
The next morning for Alfred had started off slightly dull. Luckily, there were no clashes and clangs of metal suits of armor cascading down in the hallway of the manor at an ungodly hour. However, there was an aura of extreme depression when the Viscount opened his eyes the next day, fluttering against the harsh morning light that forced its way past the thin layer of curtains that were hanging in front of the closed windows. The room was silent and everything was still, save for the rising and falling of his chest and the soft sounds of air that escaped his lips when he breathed. He stayed in that position for a few minutes, breathing soundly as his eyes were trained up on the ceiling. It was his day-after-a-ball routine, to reflect on the night before.
As usual, the ball started off the same as always. The Viscount remembered when he had first stepped into the familiar Manor and he was warmly greeted by his good friend, the Duke. From then on, he was immediately swamped by many other people. There were nobles he had met before at previous parties and even some more closer friends were there. He never refused a dance, and when given the opportunity, he would ask for one himself, sending a flutter to arise in amongst the girls. Lily, the main attraction of the night, had even been asked by the Viscount to have her first dance, much to the delight of her parents. Of course, the Duke wasn't expecting for his Viscount friend to immediately seek after her hand. She was a mere sixteen and the Viscount was already twenty-four. The dance was out of mere courtesy for the sake of their family friendship.
But Lily had been sweet, and they had even conversed on her opinion on being introduced to society. The ball was lovely yet intimidating, but she proved to be having plenty of fun. The girl herself seemed to be whisked away by many younger men who fancied her attention, whereas the Viscount himself always seemed to be busy. He had met up with his best friend, Sir Antonio Carriedo, who was part of the Queen's guard. Together with either him or the Duke, they would introduce him as well as converse with many new faces and old faces, bringing up past times and old topics.
Of course, due to being constantly talked to most of the night, Alfred's attention was always wavering, never staying on one person for too long. He'd meet a face and remember their name and title, storing it in his memory for future references. There were the Lucases, and the Carletons, and the Findlers and the large family clan of Beesingtons. Most of their names were large and stored down deep, deep into history. But he also had met a few minor people, to which he greeted just as kindly. Madame Chesley was a sweetheart, and Arthur Kirkland was awkward…
Right, speaking of the Kirklands…
Sitting up in bed, the Viscount rubbed his eyes, clearing away what was left of his sleep-ridden mind as he immediately remembered the meeting with the shorter man. He frowned to himself just a bit, for in all honesty, he wasn't paying much attention to when he was introduced to the blonde man. He didn't believe that Arthur held a big name, and judging by how he held his own posture – as was said, awkwardly, - Alfred didn't think that he was anything…well, special. In fact, the whole incident was simply a vague memory in the back of his mind now. All he could fathom to remember were a pair of distinct, bushy eye brows and a mop of blonde hair. Other than that, the dim night and the roving lights made it hard to commit Arthur's face into his memory. However, he believed it wouldn't be so much of a big deal if he had forgotten it for the fact that he was soon to be introduced to his wife, where he would surely met the man again.
Slipping out of the bed, he took his time to slide his feet into his slippers, and make his way to the large closet on the side of the room. For a tired man, there were enough thoughts running through his mind as he tried to plan out the rest of this week's events – many of them centering around Governess Kirkland herself.
Pulling on a dress coat, he licked his lips in thought, his brows furrowed slightly. He looked at himself in the mirror and started to adjust the gold vest that was pressing against his chest. Governess Kirkland, whatever her name may be, was married to Arthur Kirkland. That particular piece of information was a bit worrisome to him already. Not only did he also forget what Arthur's title was, but it was the fact that the Governess he was hiring was married. Usually, most Governesses were single women, allowing themselves to travel with their jobs. Their homes were their hosts' homes, and they would stay in a room designated for them. It allowed them full time to be around the child, as well as being available if there was an incident in the night, and she was needed. But the only problem was that the Governess was married to Arthur. Were they only recently married, and the woman was still working in that occupation? Alfred shook his head absently. No, that kind of situation usually did not happen. Was Arthur really okay with allowing his wife to be living in other people's homes, looking after other families' children? That was probably it, then. The Kirklands had no children. And it was reasonable since what Alfred remembered of Arthur was that he looked young, almost younger than him, if not the same age.
The only feasible explanation to why Governess Kirkland was a married Governess was that maybe it was a job that she took from time to time, depending on her salary. And perhaps her skills and work ethics were so efficient and productive that the woman fixed up the child in just a few days, allowing herself to return home to Arthur. Yes, of course, that had to be it. There was simply no other reason. However, he desperately hoped that the Governess was a strong type of person who would be able to deal with Franklin's ridiculousness. But that was her job, and he hoped that she would do the best she could. She would be the first Governess he would have ever hired, and he hoped that it would be for the best.
Ringing a bell that he had on the corner of the desk, he waited patiently for Percy to make his appearance in his room as usual. The man looked at him with gentle eyes and Alfred couldn't help but to smile gratefully at the butler. Percy was there for him always, never backing down from an order, and was probably the closest family friend that the Jones' had. The Viscount treasured this man. "Percy, can you please prepare a room for a guest? Also, start to clean up the house just a bit…" He asked him and the butler merely bowed, murmuring that he shall do so. He straightened up, curiosity twinkling in his eyes. He was aware of how often his master went off to balls, but over the course of all of them, he had never brought someone home other than Antonio, and Antonio already had a room here, requiring no preparation. Also, any important guests that would've come to visit the Jones' would have been brought up to Percy at least a few days before hand. Or perhaps this was the 'few days'?
"Sir?" Percy inquired, watching Alfred's eyebrow rise up curiously. "If I may, who will be our guest?" he asked simply and he watched as Alfred's mouth turned up into a small smile.
"Hmm…I don't believe they will be considered a 'guest', judging by their length of stay…" he murmured, but grinned nonetheless. "However, our upcoming guest will be arriving tomorrow." He told the butler. 'Hopefully.´ He also thought, vaguely wondering how Antonio had done on his recruitment. "And tomorrow will be the start of a new employee in this house, for I have hired Franklin a Governess."
"Franklin, by tomorrow, you will have your new Governess." He had told his son with his arms clasped behind him, his long legs holding him up in the middle of the parlor. Franklin himself was dressed smartly in his own little blue suit and a mini cravat stuffed into the shirt between his neck and the stiff collar. He fidgeted awkwardly on the large, plush couch as he tried to stay silent and not say anything that could get him into any more trouble. The boy himself had gone to sleep restlessly, tossing and turning in his bed, unable to will himself to close his eyes for longer than a few minutes. The words he had shouted at his father were harsh, and he was aware of the impact it had on both of their thoughts. To Franklin, he simply felt more depressed at the remembrance of his mother leaving him and his father behind, and his father growing stricter. He reprimanded Franklin almost every day, but he was never able to inflict any damage, nor leave a lesson that the child would take heed. But now, his words have gone too far, and he had spoken way out of turn. Now his father was not simply scolding him, but now he had resorted to hiring a fake mother.
There was only so much 'fakeness' that Franklin could take on, and the Viscount himself was aware of that. He knew that his son had changed because his mother had left. He had known how Franklin was like before the change and he was completely aware of what the boy could really be. It was all due to the want of attention… Alfred wasn't an idiot, so that fact had come to mind almost immediately. Franklin was deserted by someone who had showered so much love and care onto him and now he was alone. The mother and father that had once watched his every move with admiration filling their eyes were gone, and all he had left was a father who could barely stand to even look at him only because he looked so much like his mother. There were no more caring words, only the harsh reprimands that left Alfred's lips. No more did the Viscount look out for the things Franklin did right, but instead pursed his lips and shook his head whenever the boy did something wrong.
Perhaps it was due to the fact that after Charlotte had left, Alfred was looking out for every flaw in a person, finding the things that brought them down, rather than the things that made them shine in his eyes.
"A Governess, papa…?" Franklin had asked hesitantly, staring at his father with shocked, dark brown orbs. "What is…" he started but then trailed off, figuring that by the look of his father's expression, he was about to launch into full detail on what exactly it was. Not that he didn't know… He knew fully well. In fact, he was quite knowledgeable for a six year old…But he knew that how his father would say it was how it was to be. So he might as well listen to it.
With a short clearing of his throat, the tall blonde turned around quickly to face Franklin with a small, reassuring smile. However, it didn't reach his eyes whatsoever. Instead of being one of his genuine ones that stretched the corners of his eyes, this smile was the smallest of a lip tug. "A Governess…" he started off, stretching his arms behind his back. "Is someone who will take care of you for the moment." Franklin could feel his brows start to furrow at his father's words, and Alfred immediately noticed it. He knelt down in front of his boy and outstretched one hand to clasp it on top of Franklin's tightly, squeezing it with a faint, affectionate smile. "And when I say 'for the moment,' I mean 'for the moment.'" He clarified and then chuckled when Franklin's confused expression deepened further.
"I don't – " Franklin began and was immediately cut off by his father who had released his hand and stood up.
"And by 'for the moment,' I will now tell you the reason to why I have been going off most nights to these balls and…well, why I have not had the time to play with you." He said with an apologetic smile as he watched Franklin's expression grow a bit stormy. He cleared his throat once more, rubbing the back of his neck momentarily as he tried to find the best way to explain to his son that he was doing this for his own good. "For the past…ah, year, I should say, I've decided to start socializing with the crowds again." He said and as he glanced at Franklin, the child was quiet. However, he could see the though process run through his head. The young boy was probably muttering to himself that Alfred had never really stopped being social. He just amped up his ball-attending this year. "And the reason to that is so that I can find a woman." He stated with a hint of pride in his voice.
At that, the boy jumped out of his seat, one of his hands still clutching at the arm rest tightly. His eyes were wide and his expression was one of ultimate shock. In fact, not even of ultimate shock. It was a look of utter betrayal and absolute hopelessness. His father had finally given up and was actually searching for a woman to replace his mother. Yes, he knew that his mother had committed a very bad deed, and that there was no hope for her coming back, and their family fixing themselves together. Yes, that was impossible. However, to hear that the great Viscount was actually stooping as low as to searchingfor a new woman was disgraceful – even to a child at Franklin's age. Of course, it was only natural to be betrothed to someone. Marriage between noble families kept the bloodlines strong. But regardless, a man who had just lost a very close woman did not immediately go out looking for a new one simply one year out of his past marriage. In fact, they were married for seven beautiful years until the incident. Was all that so easy to throw away at the chance of finding a new wife?
"Papa," Franklin interjected. "Why?!" He cried out, immediately shrinking back when Alfred shot a glare at him for his outburst. Yet he continued on. "Why are you looking for a woman? Why are you replacing… Why?!" He pleaded, desperate for an answer. He got one quickly enough when Alfred turned to face him with a deep set frown.
"It's not simply just for my pleasure and our name, Frankie." He said, a bit perturbed at being interrupted right when he was about to explain what good it did for the boy.
"Then what? I don't understand why!" the younger male had said.
The Viscount had to restrain himself from shouting at the smaller boy for interrupting his explanation and instead motioned down forcefully for him to sit down, to which Franklin grudgingly did. "You truly have no manners, boy." He said with an irked tone and prevented another outburst by holding up his hand to stop him. "Listen to me, and then figure out your feelings afterwards." He commanded. "As I said, I am not after a woman for merely my sake." He said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I am also looking for a woman who will do you well as a mother." He said with a sigh, moving back to behind his desk, sitting down on his chair and clasping his hands together. He made sure to continue talking before Franklin could, already noting how he had risen up from his chair and was staying standing, hands clenched at his side as he could sense the anger boiling in him. "Your actions have turned for the worse, Frankie, and I believe it's because you are at loss of a mother." He tried to explain to him.
"Papa! What are you-"
"So due to that, I have taken the initiative to find someone suitable in raising you up alongside with me. No, this woman won't be replacing…Charlotte…" he said stiffly, the name coming to his lips like a toxic substance. It surprised him when the name was found to be too hard to say. After quickly thinking about it, he had come to realize that it had been far too long since he had uttered the name last. "However, she will try her best to be a good mother for you, as well as a wife to me." He said seriously, and looked at his son's face, trying to see if his reasoning was able to calm the fire that was alight in dark blue orbs. Apparently they had not.
Finally able to speak, the words that were threatening to burst forth from Franklin's mouth did and in a very impolite manner. "No!" He cried out, trembling just a bit. "I don't want another mother! I don't care if she isn't replacing momma, I don't want another one!" He said distressfully and Alfred grew irritated once more. Was there ever a time that Franklin would just sit down and accept things the way they were?
He rose from his seat. "Then how are we going to fix you!?" he very nearly shouted. His hand gestured aggressively at the boy before him. "You're turning into a menace and the rumors have been flying around that you're a disgrace for a son." He ran his fingers through his crisp, blonde hair, successfully tousling it in an action of irritation. "I can do nothing more for you, Franklin, because you simply refuse to listen to all reason! You talk back, and you're still at such a young age! You wreak havoc in the house and the servants can barely keep up with you, running to me for help as you simply run off to destroy yet another thing!" Now, the Viscount had slightly lost it, his thoughts spilling out from his mouth, cascading without a filter. "What do you want me to do!? What can I do if you refuse to listen?! You're already aware of how different we are since we aren't natively British, but are you simply going to add more flames to their rumors, and have their nasty words taint our country? Then it'll be your fault, Franklin. Your downfall will come from your own actions." He hissed in conclusion.
However, there was merely silence when he finished his rant. He was turned towards the window, having moved from his desk during the heat of his yelling. His hand clutched at one of the blinds tightly as his burning eyes stared out onto the front lawn. He waited for the expected outburst to happen. Franklin was not a boy to let something like that go down so easily, and he was always ready with another snappy response back.
But no response was given, and Alfred turned his head slightly to see what he was up to. Was Franklin crying? He hadn't done that in front of his father ever since his mother had left. Alfred wasn't even sure if Franklin cried anymore. But he heard no sound, and when he caught sight of an empty chair, he completely whirled around to see that the presence of his son was no longer. The door across from his desk was swinging open, showing that he had recently just left. In fact, the Viscount could still hear the pounding of feet running down the hallway outside of his office – a sign of Franklin running away. Running from him, running from his new mother, running from the only thing that could help him.
Where did Alfred go wrong? The tall man let out a deep sigh as he dropped back onto his chair, his face in one of his hands that was propped up by the elbow on the desk. Thick blonde locks fell messily around his fingers as he rubbed his chin, staring out the door. This was all for Franklin. All of it, and he was sure that one of his reasoning was wrong. Then why wasn't Franklin reciprocating?
"I'm too young for this…" the Viscount moaned to himself, debating whether or not he should childishly drop his forehead onto the desk. At a mere twenty-four, the Viscount had already encountered fame, a scandal, and now a stubborn son. For the first time in quite a while, he mentally cursed society's rule for urging young marriage between nobles.
Instead of the desk, he resorted to tilting his head back to rest against the large back of his chair, clasping his hands in his lap. He willed sleep to come and succumb over him, for he was now mentally exhausted, and he was in absolutely no mood for any sort of important matters. Eventually, sleep did overtake his mind and Percy found him an hour later, half-curled up in his chair, breathing evenly. The Butler smiled, retreating only so that he could fetch a blanket. His master was a good one, he was sure. A bit insensitive, but a good one, nonetheless.
The Spaniard dropped onto a sofa in the Pinkerton's parlor that afternoon, a look of utter distress written across his flawless tan face, causing his light green eyes to contrast against the expression. He was immediately treated to by Elizabeth who had entered the room with a tray of hot tea and a few biscuits. She set it down on the small table before him and he immediately grabbed for the cup, sipping dejectedly. It had become routine, this entering and serving, sipping and sighing.
Why? Because it was the fourth time Governess Arthur Kirkland had rejected him today.
"How did it go this time, dear…?" Elizabeth had asked softly, sitting next to him on the sofa, her day skirt flowing to the floor, as she was turned to face him. Her face was set on an expression of concern as she reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder gently. "Did he accept…?" she asked, but the moment she had walked in and noticed his expression, she knew that the stubborn Governess had not.
"NO!" The Spaniard wailed in despair, setting the cup down so that he could wring his hands in the air and fall backwards onto the soft back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling with misery-stricken eyes. "For the fourth time, he's said no!" he said in a groan before dropping his head into his hands. "What am I going to dooo….?" He moaned. "Alfred needs him by tomorrow…"
Elizabeth merely sat at his side, regarding him with a sympathetic expression. She noticed her husband by the door and when she looked up, she read his eyes and the question within. "Another refusal?" He had mentally asked and the woman merely sighed and nodded, turning back to look at Antonio. It was scarily surprising how they had already grown fond of the young man, whom they had simply met that morning, just past the crack of dawn. His bright personality seemed to charm everyone in the house…except for Arthur. At the start, the Pinkertons were very wary on letting Arthur go due to the fact that they had all grown quite close, and Martin was fond of the blonde Briton himself. The first and second times Antonio was rejected, they felt a bit relieved, and only treated the Spaniard sympathetically out of the pity they felt. However, when Antonio jumped from his seat, intent on a third try, they were surprised. He was rejected, and they were left in a state of question. Should they let Arthur go? Martin had already turned into a wonderful child, and perhaps they were keeping the Governess back from great opportunities. They were aware of the Jones' situation, having a wild child. Perhaps they could finally let Arthur find a new family?
Even before Antonio decided to try for the fourth time, the Pinkertons – as well as a very reluctant Martin – had agreed that Antonio's determination could not go unnoticed, and that he should recruit Arthur for the job. The only problem was that Arthur seemed to grow even colder the more times Antonio asked, and the host family was sure that there would be a point that the Briton would burst. Staying quiet in order to brood properly, the Spaniard vaguely thought back to this very morning, to where it had all started.
The door was being knocked on incessantly, the caller being very determined to enter. Whoever it was was also quite lucky that the man of the house was already awake and about with his work, for James was quite the morning person. However, just because he was already awake didn't mean that he was exactly eager to open the door at six in the morning.
"Who are you?" was the first thing that came from the older man's mouth as Sir James stared at a Spaniard dressed nobly that was on their door step. There was a horse, tethered to a pole behind him and James figured that that was how this man had come. The man himself was a shock. He wasn't English whatsoever – or even Caucasian for that matter. He had the tan, smooth skin of a Spaniard and his hair was dark, with dark lashes framing a pair of pretty green eyes. He wore a bright smile on his face which left James to wondering how on earth this man was able to get up early in the morning. He didn't seem to be any older than twenty-four! "And what brings you to my home?" He asked a little less warily, for the man's bright smile was truly calming him down, and making him look a lot less suspicious.
The Spaniard gave a small wave, a tiny salute with two fingers. It surprised the other man, he could tell, for that usually wasn't what he was expecting as a greeting. "Good morning, sir!" He chirped. "I am Knight Carriedo of the Queen's Guard. I hope I haven't called at such an unpredictable, early time." He told him and almost immediately, James broke out into a small splutter, stumbling to the side and pulling the door open. It was obvious that there was fear in his eyes, wondering why someone like him was here. What had he done wrong?
"Ah, yes, yes, pardon me. Do come in!" the man had said hastily, ushering in Antonio without a second's hesitation. "It's truly not a problem." He said quickly, showing the man to the parlor. "I have already been awake and attending to my duties, so your arrival is simply on time." He assured him, fretting a bit over the situation, unsure of what to do or say. He didn't want to straight out ask him what the Queen wanted with him. In fact, James himself was quite at loss of comprehension. He didn't own that great of companies, and was only rich due to family inheritance. What did he do?
Antonio had already noticed the panic in James' eyes, and being the mischievous person he was, allowed the nobleman to wallow and sink in more panicked anxiety before telling him his actual intentions. It wasn't until Sir James had run out of things to fake-ly fret over and given up, resorting in sitting down on a chair across from him, did Antonio finally decide to speak.
"I am not here for governmental purposes," he started and James did nothing to hide his very obvious, relieved sigh. Antonio grinned. "Instead, I am here at the request of a friend." He told him and he saw James' look confused. Who was he friends with that James knew…? Well…technically, no one. "I'm sure you're familiar with the Jones' family?" He had asked, and he was expecting a confirming answer. Almost everyone knew Jones' family.
"Yes, I believe I do." James replied seriously, starting to get more into the conversation. He didn't know the Viscount on a face-to-face basis, but he did know who the man was, and his family situation. His wife left, his son was now wild. That was the simple gist. "Is something the matter? Does the Viscount need something?"
Antonio simply smiled at the words. "Yes, in fact, he does. He would like to hire your Governess, Arthur Kirkland, in hopes that he will help Franklin Jones back into the way he once was."
"Who the bloody hell are you?" The blonde-haired, bushy-browed, green-eyed Briton had asked the Spaniard when he had walked into the middle of one of Martin's lessons, being held in the drawing room. He didn't remember Antonio from the night of the ball at all – but then again, Arthur had tried to forget that entire night in general.
They were learning Italian, a language that Martin used to despise, but now loved due to Arthur's fantastic way of teaching him. "We're currently in the middle of something." He said with a small indignant sniff that simply made Antonio snicker mentally. The Brit didn't remember him, huh? This Governess sure had a bite. Believing that it would be the only effective way, he rummaged around his pockets for the piece of official paper that the knights were required to bring everywhere. He unfolded it, letting Arthur see it, before pulling on an official expression. "My name is Knight Antonio Carriedo of the Queen's Guard, and Governess Kirkland, I'd like to speak with you."
That surely got the Governess to drop everything that he was doing, muttering softly to the brunette boy that he'd be back soon, before following Antonio out into the hallway, then into the dining room where he could sit at the chairs at listen intently, anxiety arising in his chest. Was it because of his title? Were they not okay with him going by the name Governess? He hadn't had any trouble for it over the past three years! Was it because they figured out he was a homosexual and wanted to send him to an institute? The Pinkertons didn't mind at all, and were simply ignorant of it, allowing him to live as he pleased. What could the Queen want?!
Out in the hallway, Antonio stood nearer to the wall with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for the other man to slowly make his way out of the room, and come towards him. The Spaniard watched as Arthur walked forward, looking almost as nervous as James was. However, he could tell that where Sir James was lacking in caution, Arthur would make up with guarded words and a careful tongue. In fact, the burning, emerald eyes that made their appearance under large brows were enough to make Antonio smirk. He hadn't even spoken to the man yet but he was sure that it would most definitely be an interesting experience. Perhaps this man would even be a good addition to the Jones' household. Assuming that his prediction was correct and that Arthur was a very sassy person, he could talk back to Franklin with ease, and it would be socially acceptable.
"Governess Arthur Kirkland?" The tan man started off as a greeting, watching as Arthur paused just a few feet in front of him, his hands limp at his sides. He wore a simple attire, it being a thin-ish white button down shirt which had the sleeves rolled up to just before his elbows. His trousers were a light brown, his plain dress shoes showing from underneath the bottom. Antonio forced himself not to raise an eyebrow at his very…lax, attire. Was that how normal Governesses dressed? He was certain that they tried to look presentable almost always, wearing dresses and…Ah. Well. Perhaps Arthur made up his own dress code, then. "I believe we met at the Whitefields' ball, yesterday night." He said with a cheerful smile, watching the surprise flicker in deep green eyes.
Last night? The ball? This man and he….Oh. Oh, yes they had. The Governess immediately looked slightly apologetic, a frown gracing his face. "Ah? Did we? My deepest apologies, for greeting you as such…" he mumbled quickly, giving the knight a quick bow.
However, Antonio merely looked at him with an amused smile, waving his hand dismissively as he shifted the weight of his body on another foot. "Ah, please don't worry about it that much, I understand how much of an importance it is for the child you are governing to be given the best treatment there is possible, in able to ensure their proper upbringing and education." The Knight spoke smartly, bringing up the general gist of what he knew a Governess was supposed to do. He figured that if he sucked up a bit, then he'd get Arthur to agree quicker. "Isn't that correct, Governess?"
"A-Ah?" Arthur replied, thoroughly surprised. "Yes, you're correct." He agreed uneasily, already feeling a sketchy vibe emanating from the knight. What, did this man have a Governess before? He didn't look like the type to have kids…much less get married. Were members of the guard even allowed to have families? "That's indeed what we do." The blonde man went on, regaining his confidence. "Making sure that the sons and daughters of our noble families grow into the delightful children that their parents envision them to be. Regardless how much work is needed to be put in, we will put it in." He concluded with an affirming nod. He watched the Spaniard for any sign of any reaction expressions.
"And as expected," said Antonio, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You have placed the idea in such a beautiful way, that I don't doubt your skill at all." He said, and he watched Arthur blink in surprise.
The Briton himself was a bit shocked at the words. "Beautiful…?" He ended up repeating in confusion, his brows knitting together. "What do you mean, 'doubt'?" He then demanded in question, feeling a bit miffed that he was being so highly complimented at his occupation, yet he didn't know the reason why.
"Yes, beautiful." Antonio said again. "And that brings me to why I have come to give you and your host family a call." He said and grinned a bit. "I am quite sure that you have heard the rumors, but the Viscount Alfred F. Jones has quite the wild son…" he said, inwardly grimacing at the understatement. Oh if only there was a word that correctly described the boy.
On the other hand, Arthur Kirkland was listening intently to the entire explanation, anxiously waiting for this 'reason' as to why the knight was here. However, when the Spaniard mentioned the Viscount's son, his blood ran cold. 'No…no, no, no, not Franklin Jones…' he thought weakly, already growing a bit pale. Of course he had heard the rumors. The company in which he was employed under heard ALL the gossip among the nobles. All the other women at the company, as well as Arthur, knew the stories and tales of the ever infamous Viscount's son. They were also pleasantly surprised whe,n over the course of two years, the Viscount hadn't filed in for hiring a Governess. But that didn't depress them, oh no. They were quite content with staying far away from 'the child', as he was dubbed in the company, as possible. But no, GOD no, was the Viscount finally settling for his last resort? He felt himself grow extremely nervous at the thought. "Oh…?" he ended up replying weakly. "Yes…I believe I've heard some things here and there…" he mumbled and watched as Antonio's eyes widened in happiness.
"That's perfect, mi amigo! Because the Viscount would like to personally hire you as his son's Governess, beginning tomorrow!" The Spaniard chirped. So Arthur knew of the Jones, and that was a good thing on his own. Wasn't it the entire Governesses' natures to gravitate towards the hardest cases of children? The harder the child was to break, the better the pay was. Arthur couldn't refuse!
The only thing was, Arthur could refuse. And the Briton's eyes widened to the size of small saucers when he heard the proposition. His knees wobbled a bit when the starting date was next mentioned. Govern Franklin Charles Jones? The menace of noble children? The Child-That-Could-Not-Be-Contained? The Wild one? The Viscount's curse? Why on earth would he allow himself to involve with that…child?
"No." he blurted out with hard eyes, watching the knight's expression of happiness fall into one of confusion. "No. I refuse. You can't make me."
It had continued that way for the next few morning hours, branching into the early hours of the afternoon, just before tea time. The attempt early that morning had backfired horribly, leaving Antonio in a miserable mood. But it had only lasted for a couple of minutes before he made up his mind to try once more. Of course he had to try once more…Alfred would skin him if he came back empty handed.
He tried again during Martin's free time, when he was in the backyard playing near the pond. Arthur was sitting on one of the garden chairs that were planted around a small sitting table, a book open in his hand as he kept a watchful eye on Martin at the same time. He had looked up in surprise when Antonio came to bother him once more, giving him a look of utter disappointment. What, wasn't one 'no' enough? "Sir Carriedo." He said stiffly, closing the book. He was about to rise when the brunette merely put out a hand, halting his actions, and leaving him in his seat.
"I am aware of your reasons as to why you wouldn't want to govern the child…" he started off and began another sincere, longer explanation as to why Arthur should come work under the roof of the Viscount.
Needless to say, Martin's recess had ended with a very moody Governess nearly dragging him into the house and the image of a moping Spanish knight, trudging back into the house through a different door, a look of hopelessness upon his face.
The third time was no better, and instead was much worse on a series of levels. The Pinkertons had considerably warmed up to the Spaniard, (probably due to some bullshitted reasoning that the knight had given them in hopes to gain their favor…Really, Franklin was THAT bad!) and were subtly trying to drop him hints on accepting the job. In fact, he wasn't even given a day or two to consider taking it! It was if the job was set in stone, and he was required to take it…no matter what.
Closer to lunchtime, Antonio had pulled him aside and tried to talk to him again, this time looking a bit more harried and was rushed with his words.
"Arthur, please." He said, maintaining a calm composure. "We would really like your services, and I believe that you, being…as…well, you being you, the Viscount and I both believe that you would do well, being Franklin's Governess." He had said, causing Arthur to nearly snort. Well, those were the wrong words to say. Him being him? What was that to say, poking fun at his occupation preference? Antonio was going to get nowhere if he continued to beg and plead like this, the Pinkertons be damned. Also, it wasn't as if he was staying with James, Elizabeth and Martin forever. He was nearing the end of his time at the house and Martin was such a nice boy. But that didn't mean he had nowhere to go. He didn't depend on the homes of his hosts, for he had a nice apartment himself, deep in the city. It wasn't glamorous, but it worked, since most of the time he lived in the host family's house anyways. He was well of on his own, and Antonio would have to try a lot harder than that if he wanted to get Arthur to Govern at the Jones' household.
"No, Antonio." He said with a sense of finality in his voice. "I have already told you numerous times, I refuse to take on that job."
By the time the fourth asking came around, Arthur was ready to blow a fuse. He had very violently shouted at the Spaniard, causing the man to back down immediately, knowing that it was probably best he didn't ask once more. He watched him retreat into a different room, Elizabeth quickly coming to his aid. With a roll of his eyes, the Briton turned away to brood in his room. It was barely the afternoon, and already he was on an extremely short temper. Why…why the BLOODY HELL did the Viscount want him so much? Arthur could remember him…semi-clearly. Very attractive, tall, and always looking out on the dance floor. However…that was it. There was nothing else about the Viscount that he was able to perceive from that short meeting, and in all honesty, he didn't want to learn anything more. How bad of a father was he to be, if his son had turned out this way in a course of two years?
Regardless of those facts, however, he desperately hoped that Antonio wouldn't ask him again. All the constant pleading and begging had started to wear him down, and he was worried that this was the man's tactic. To continue asking until Arthur was too tired to say no. And that was the thing – what if the next time, he ended up saying yes?
"Arthur?" came the voice, just behind the Governess' door, where the man himself was sitting at his desk, looking over the lesson plans for Martin that was happening tomorrow. Yes, there'd still be a tomorrow…and there'd still be lessons. Viscount and son be damned. He stood up at the call obediently, though he took his time walking to the door. He was almost positive that the only reason James was calling upon his room was to try and convince him to take the job opportunity. But Arthur had already stated his opinion…four times. It was a strong and resounding no.
He opened the door, looking up at the taller man who was peering down at him in concern. His betrayed nothing through his facial expressions, instead giving the man a small smile. "Good afternoon, sir." He said with a small bob of his head. "How may I help you? Is there something in need for Martin?" he asked, as was his usual question whenever he was called upon. He had come to learn that sometimes, the parents simply wanted to talk over some wine or biscuits, to which Arthur would gladly accept. However, today was a very strange day, so Arthur resorted to his ways as a complete Governess, and not the Pinkertons' family friend.
"Ah, no…" James had started off, shaking his head. "Martin is fine, and he has decided to take a nap." He mused faintly and Arthur chuckled, nodding. The constant shouting in the house was enough to make anyone mentally tired – and he praised the Lord that the Pinkertons' were not a family that got easily aggravated by the loudness. "I simply just wanted to talk to you about…well." He said, trailing off awkwardly with a sheepish smile, waving his hand behind him in a gesture to say 'your Spanish friend.' In which Arthur replied with a steady gaze of green that said 'he's not my friend.'
"Antonio?" he said bluntly, as to which James nodded with a small sigh. Everyone in the house had taken to calling each other by first name now, regardless of the fact that they barely knew each other. Antonio would beg to Arthur using 'Arthur', and Arthur would reject the man with 'Antonio.' It was just how things worked. "What about him?" he asked feigning ignorance.
Both James and Arthur knew exactly what the other was talking about, and by the looks of their faces, neither were amused. "Yes…" James said with a frown. "Antonio…" He said slowly and Arthur sighed, causing James to finally break the awkward silence. "Arthur, both Elizabeth and I truly believe you should take up this job." He ended up saying, Arthur's expression of disgust spurring him forward. "It'll truly be a new experience, and we also believe that you can learn so much more from it." He said, forcing himself into the room to walk to the middle, turning to face Arthur, who was still by the door. "Now, I now that you refuse to take on this job because of these…these 'rumors' that are floating around the Viscount's son." He continued and Arthur nearly scoffed. Rumors? They were facts. "But either way, look at it as the ultimate challenge. If you can successfully govern a boy like Franklin successfully, then you can govern any other boy or girl in the whole world." He said sincerely, stressing out his point.
Arthur grew a bit silent at that, contemplating the idea. He had actually never bothered to look at it that way, and now that he thought about it, it made clearer sense. If he could tame Franklin, he could tame anyone… But he still didn't want to. "James…" he tried to start off but was interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand.
"No, I refuse to hear it." The man had said briskly, looking at Arthur would a deep frown. "Who knows, Arthur? Maybe you'll go into this with your kind of viewpoint, but in a just a few days, you'll see that it truly is a learning experience." He said, and he didn't even bother waiting to hear of Arthur had a contradiction for it, for he continued to speak. "Also, Antonio is working his utter hardest in order to get you to change his mind." He said, gesturing brusquely to the door. "After rejecting him four times in just one morning, he is still over there muttering about how he'll ask you again before dinner comes around!" he cried, threatening to wring his hands in the air. "Don't you think it's about time to relieve the man of his pain, and accept the proposal?" he emphasized, seeing Arthur look extremely uneasy by the door. The Governess was fully aware of the Spaniard's stubbornness…however, he was stubborn himself, and he didn't want to do it…that was it. Selfishly, he didn't want to do it.
However, Sir James Pinkerton was having none of it. The silence he received from the Governess was enough to cause more irritation to brew in him, and he held up a stern finger at the younger boy, as if he were a son himself. "This here is an order, Arthur Kirkland." He started off.
Arthur's eyes grew wide and for the second time that day, he grew pale. 'No…no, no, no, James PLEASE.' He mentally begged, unable to find the words to actually stop the older man who obviously had more authority over him.
"After this here conversation, I order that you march yourself back into that room and tell Knight Carriedo that you're going to accept his job offer. You start packing tonight!"
'NO!'
There should be a limit as to just how happy a man can be when someone accepts a job proposal. There should be rules that mature men should not jump when the words 'I accept' are to be said. There should also be extents of physical contact that are allowed to be displayed when Arthur Kirkland accepted the job.
Yet there he was. Smothered into the chest of an overly-happy Spanish man who was also currently jumping just a bit in utter excitement. Arthur merely stood there, trying his best to not let his feet lift off of the ground.
"Oh! Dios mio!" Antonio had yelled, launching himself at Arthur and grabbing him into a hug, swinging him in a large, affectionate circle. It shocked the Governess so badly that he was speechless, face red and looking indignant. "Thank the Lord, the God, the Queen, the Pinkertons! Oh, bless you all!" the knight simply sang out in the large room, much to the amusement of James and Elizabeth. What the knight was doing now was close to being labelled 'indecent'. However, due to his current state of constant rejection, they couldn't possibly correct his actions when Arthur had finally accepted, walking into the room as slow as possible, sullen and miserable, muttering 'I am Governess Kirkland, and Knight Carriedo, I accept your offer.'
But after the accepting of jobs and the one-sided celebration of the knight, Arthur had quickly fled the room. He didn't really want to see James and Elizabeth, even though the woman had rested a hand on his shoulder before he left, murmuring, "We're not kicking you out, love…we just want you to explore…" But he did have someone he wanted to say good bye to, as well as pack his belongings.
The Governess stayed in his room, slowly moving from his cabinets to his bags, taking his time in his packing. He knew that due to his small amount of possessions, he didn't have to worry about taking too long to pack his things, or his amount of luggage. But what he did do was take as much time as possible in order to let the small boy of the house make his way to his room, knocking on the door quietly.
"Arthur…?" came the small voice of the six year old as he stood outside of the door, his fingers tangled deeply with the edge of his night gown, his ever-alert eyes darting back and forth down the hall, hoping his parents wouldn't come across him. Martin had woken up from his nap in the middle of the Spaniard's happy shouts, and due to his tone, the boy knew exactly what had happened… and he was devastated. "Arthur, can I come in…?" He asked quietly and almost immediately, the door swung open to reveal a grief-stricken Governess who looked tired and wary.
"Come in, Martin, quickly now…" Arthur murmured, looking down the hall as well as he ushered the boy into his room. It was still noon, yet it already felt like midnight was creeping upon him, bringing him closer to the day he'd have to meet his new family. As he turned away from the door, he watched as the child ran up to the bed and jumped on top of it, crawling to the middle of the bed. He then plopped down and turned around to face the Governess who was smiling faintly at him. Pulling his knees up, Martin hugged his legs and rested his chin on his knees, looking at the man with a small smile of his own. Arthur made his way to the bed and sat on the edge, one leg on the sheets, the other holding his weight on the floor. He turned his torso to face Martin who was looking at him with critical eyes. They were a soft brown colored, ones that he was able to mix and turn soft. They used to be a hard brown, filled with mischief and deceit, but out of Arthur's hard work, Martin had calmed down wonderfully.
"Arthur?" said the small boy softly, as Arthur replied with a quiet 'hmm?' "Are you leaving?" came the question and the blonde bit his lower lip, trying his best to figure out just how to answer the curious question.
Clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing softly. He shifted all the way onto the bed so that he was sitting cross legged on the sheets, across from Martin. "Yes…" he uttered softly and he heard the sharp intake of breath come from the small boy. The Governess quickly looked up to give him a reassuring smile. "Don't gasp like that now," he said with a teasing chuckle. "And close your mouth before you catch flies!" he said and Martin quickly clamped his mouth shut, in fear of actually catching the small insects.
"B-But, why?" The brunette had asked with a pout on his angelic face. Arthur could only sigh and run his lithe fingers through his hair.
"Because out there, there is another little boy who is in desperate need of my help." He responded with, speaking in a sullen, melancholy voice. He wasn't sure if Martin would understand, but he sure hoped so.
Fidgeting a bit, the small boy nodded slowly, trying to figure out just who exactly would want to take his Governess away from him. "Does that little boy…" He frowned a bit, staring at the sheets, trying to put his thoughts into words. "Does he really need your help?" He asked quietly, and Arthur hesitated for a second, before nodding. "Oh…" Martin said with a sigh, hugging his own shoulders, still not looking up. "Was he like me? Does he get in trouble a lot?" the little boy asked and Arthur nearly blanched as he thought up the answer. No, Franklin was probably not as good as Martin when he had started governing him, and yes, that child got in trouble a lot.
"To some extent…" he ended up murmuring instead, pursing his lips as he watched Martin raise his head, staring at the blonde with shining, brown eyes. Arthur was quick to act, surprised himself. "Oh you sweetheart…" he muttered before quickly reaching out to grab at Martin, gathering him into his lap, and pressing the child's face into his chest. Martin immediately latched on, his small little body shaking as he tried to hold back the tears. Arthur tried his best to keep back his emotions, since he wasn't allowed to grow super attached to his clients. However, with Martin, he had stayed with the family for so long that the small boy might as well have been his own son. He rocked them back and forth on the bed soothingly, rubbing his head and holding him tight in order to reassure him that as of right now, Arthur was still there. "It's okay, it's okay…" he whispered quietly, trying to not let his own voice betray the strong emotions that were stirring inside of him. He hated to admit it, but he himself wanted to cry. He wanted to fall at James' feet and beg not to go to the Jones'. He had come to the realization that not only did he not want to work with Franklin, but that he loved the Pinkertons too much to part with them, Martin definitely included.
"B-but…but you'll n-never…come back!" came the soft wailing of words that were slightly muffled into his shirt, as Martin freely cried into his chest. Arthur swallowed, making sure that he wouldn't speak and his voice would crack.
"Of course I'll come back, silly…" he said with a halfhearted laugh that only ended in some sort of strangled choking sound. He bit his lip, for this really wasn't going well. He could feel the front of his shirt grow a bit damp due to Martin's tears and that made him feel even more regretful for accepting the offer. At the thought of that, he his bitter resentment grew even more towards the Spaniard who was just a few doors down, for he was to be spending the night. "I'll come visit you whenever I have the time." He promised the boy, but both of them were quite aware of how impossible that was going to be. Martin knew that Arthur spent every waking moment around him when he could, and if Franklin was worse, the Governess would have absolutely no free time to even get away from the new boy.
The boy didn't respond, for he was too busy crying, but after a few minutes, the sobs turned into soft whimpers and sniffles, allowing him to raise his head. It revealed a pair of dark, brown eyes, surrounded with red. "Okay…" Martin ended up saying, trying his best to put on a brave front for the man. "Try and visit me…" he pleaded, gripping Arthur's shirt as best as he could. "I want you to visit, so that we can play together again…" he asked and Arthur could do nothing more but weakly smile and nod.
"Of course, love…" he said, wiping away the small child's tears with soft and gentle thumbs, thumbs that have wiped away the tears of many, many children beforehand. "I'll visit you all the time." He said, lying through his promises – and they both knew it. However, they refused to acknowledge it, for they had become best friends.
"Alright…" Martin said, swallowing. He pulled away from the Brit, staring up at him with a small smile. Arthur sighed and smiled in return, patting his head affectionately. Had any of Martin's parents walked in, they would have been horrified by how familiar they were acting with each other, and how Arthur was acting like Martin's parent, and holding him in his lap. "Do you promise?" Asked the small boy again, holding out his fist with his pinky finger extended. Arthur stared at it, knowing that it was an actual promise. There were no guarantees that Arthur would ever have the time to see his ex-host family again, and yet here Martin was, naïve and pleading for a promise. Arthur never broke promises.
Hooking the two pinkies together, the two males smiled at each other, yet there was sorrow at the corners of their eyes and lips. "I promise."
The next morning was a flurry of activities. Apparently it was a lot harder than expected to just hire a Governess and go. Since Arthur wasn't being properly released back to the company he worked at, and was instead being 'handed over', so to speak, Sir James had to find various amounts of documents that entitled the job over to the Jones. The Governess himself was suspicious, for the actual Jones family had no appearance in this whatsoever. Of course, Antonio was to be trusted since he was of the Queen's guard…but did his friendship with the Viscount mean that this was the Viscount's business, or the Queen's business?
There were simply too many questions, and Arthur was leaving in an hour.
"Good bye, good bye!" came the chorus of voices from atop of the steps of the Pinkerton's house. Arthur himself was too busy trying to fight back insults aimed at the Spaniard's head for the fact that they were still in the presence of his host family, and their precious son. Arthur turned, his hand already gripping the outside railing of the carriage, one foot propped on to the step, and before he could say his own good bye, a small body barreled right into his stomach, causing him to cough and nearly choke.
"B-Bloody hell!" he cried out, only to have Antonio whack him upside the head from inside the carriage.
"Watch your language, mi amigo, you have a child in your hands." He scolded. Oh, was that man dead.
But Martin merely grinned and looked up with his ever-smiling face, hugging Arthur tightly around his small waist. "I'm going to miss you." He chirped enthusiastically, and Arthur chuckled, reaching down to ruffle his head affectionately.
"Are you now?" He teased, watching surprise flicker on Martin's face as he countered his words. "Are you really going to miss me? Are you quite sure you and your family won't throw a splendid ball just in honor of my presence being cleansed from your house?" He said with amusement dancing in his eyes, ever growing due to the fact that Martin looked even more distressed.
"W-What?!" the young boy cried, hugging him tighter to try and prove his point that he wasn't like that. "Of course not! We'll hold a memorial! Just for you Arthur, so that we never forget you!" he stressed and the Governess couldn't help but to laugh a bit more, nodding and ruffling his hair gently.
"And I believe you. Take care of the house now, and be a good boy for your mum and dad, alright?" He asked him and although Martin quieted down, he had looked sullen again. Nevertheless, he had nodded. Now satisfied, he turned to the heads of the house who had given him all he could ever need. "Thank you." He said sincerely, and their faces were soft as they spoke with warm words.
James spoke first, reaching out to clasp the Brit's hand in a warm handshake. "No," he said. "Thank you. For everything that you've done. Thank you for helping us with Martin, and becoming a friend of the family that we can simply not replace." He said and Arthur merely relished in the words of praise. He uttered a soft 'thank you' before turning to Elizabeth.
The woman herself and moved forward, pulling Arthur into a warm, motherly hug that he could do nothing to except accept it. He hugged her back, less tightly, and she pulled away with a bright, yet warm smile. "Oh Arthur…" she breathed, holding him by his arms, squeezing them for a moment before releasing. "What are we to do without you?" She said and Arthur wanted to laugh, but instead stayed silent. "You must come visit again one day, do you hear me?" She asked sternly, and Arthur merely nodded. "We'll invite you to events. You and the Jones. So you must come." She said with a tone of finality, before taking him by the shoulders and turning him around, pushing him gently towards the carriage. "Off you go, then. I pray you find happiness in your new job." She said and Arthur could do nothing but swallow stiffly and nod, climbing into the carriage. Happiness? Maybe. Perhaps. Highly unlikely…But who knew?
The carriage ride was completely silent, save for the sound of the hooves of the horses pounding into the ground. Antonio had tried once to strike up a conversation with the Briton, wanting to tell him how it would be like at the Viscount's home, but Arthur irritatingly said 'I do not wish to talk to you. Leave me be.' And that was the end of any possible friendship that could bloom. Needless to say, when they arrived at the manor, Arthur made sure to grab all of his things as quick as possible, heading towards the front door… without Antonio.
When Percy walked into the Viscount's bedroom, Alfred was busy re-fixing his hair. He was half-dreading, half-anticipating the arrival of this new Governess. What would she be like? Was she going to be nice? Strict? Would she be old? Young? It had truly been a rushed decision, as long as a short time limit, so there were many questions that crowded around the mind of the Viscount, and many of them were not going to be able to be answered by 'client reviews' that he could have so easily accessed. Instead, he would just meet the Governess herself, and see just how good of a woman this would be for Martin. He didn't not trust Antonio. In fact, he trusted the Spaniard very well. That was one of the reasons why he agreed to having a Governess so frivolously. Antonio wouldn't let him down, especially on a topic that had to deal with Franklin. Both of them were trying very hard to help the child…but apparently it wouldn't work. So when Antonio suggested hiring a Governess, Alfred was all for it.
The butler had politely informed the Viscount that the Governess had arrived, along with Antonio. They were apparently in the parlor, waiting, and Alfred gave him a polite smile, bobbing his head in thanks. He glanced back at the large mirror and fixed the small slick of hair, letting it continue to stick upright. It was his trademark…his sign. His…his thing, to be put in lesser words.
Stepping out of the room, he made his way to the parlor, with Percy behind him. As they stepped inside, he saw two different pairs of two different types of green look up to him. One was light and somewhat mellow, shaded by a lovely tan face. The second were burning and were filled with many different emotions – his eyes were as open as a book. Alfred was a bit shocked, did Arthur really have that green of eyes? The Spaniard stood up quickly, most likely about to introduce the man, but Alfred stepped in and interjected, for he already knew this man. It was just…where was his wife?
"Ah, Sir Kirkland!" He greeted enthusiastically, watching as confusion flickered once more through the eyes of Arthur, as he stood up, looking a bit dazed. They shook hands and the Viscount shook the other's strongly, causing the other man to look a bit more shaken. "How nice of it to meet you again, especially with my friend here, Knight Carriedo." He said warmly.
Arthur was a bit peeved, for he had no idea why the Viscount had called him 'sir' once more. Didn't he know he was a Governess? Isn't that why he was hired? To Govern? And yet here the man was, not using the right title. Antonio was the Sir. Not him. "Ah, yes, yes indeed…" he muttered a bit, trying not to let his arm dislocate itself due to Alfred's insanely strong grip. "How fantastic, yes." He glanced a bit at the knight that stood off to the side, giving him a look that read 'I don't understand. For some reason this feels off.' Yet to his surprise, the look that Antonio gave said the exact same thing.
Alfred had immediately launched into more words despite the two's quick glance. "My god, has it only been a day or two since the ball? It must seem horrible to mention but I hardly recognize you!" he said with his famous Viscount grin. He could immediately see the red that appeared just above Arthur's suit collar. Was he truly surprised? "But regardless, it truly is such an honor to be in your presence again, and I hope the sentiments go the same way." He mused lightly turning to Antonio when Arthur was too speechless to even reply. "And you, friend, thank you for bringing the Kirklands all this way in order for me to organize this job." Antonio simply nodded, although his brows were knitted tightly together, as he was already guessing what was wrong in this room.
Turning back to Arthur, the Viscount reached out to clasp one of his shoulders in a friendly manner, thoroughly startling the Governess. "W-Wha…?" he ended up spluttering in an undignified manner and Alfred laughed.
"You know, I was actually expecting you to come here for this as well." He said and at his side, Arthur was ridiculously confused. Yet the Viscount went on. "However, I'd like to keep it away for no longer. Where might be your wife?" He inquired, curiously. He looked around the room for any sign of a woman, the woman that would be taking care of his son. He had released the Brit's shoulder in order to take a better look around, spinning on his heel. "Has she gone to the lavatory?" he asked and he turned back to Arthur, only to see an expression of extreme shock. "What…" he started off, brows furrowing together, and he was about to go on when Antonio quickly jumped in.
"Alfred?" He said, concern written on his face.
"What is wrong… why does he look surprised?" Alfred had demanded, feeling immediately uneasy by the entire situation.
"Alfred." Antonio repeated again, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, which wasn't removed. "I thought you had met him already." He said, and the Viscount nodded his head vigorously, still confused. "But don't you know who this is?" the Spaniard asked and Alfred was growing irritated.
"What? Sir Arthur Kirkland? His wife is who I'm to be hiring, correct?" He asked, and both the men in front of him blanched.
Antonio rubbed the back of his neck, sighing deeply. "No…" he said, shaking a still-speechless Arthur. "We're not waiting for his wife. This is Arthur Kirkland…Governess Arthur Kirkland." He finally clarified.
The American Viscount was extremely stunned, just by those few words. He was suddenly speechless himself, staring at wide green eyes that stared right back at him. Governess? This man? He was a GOVERNESS?
"But…" he trailed off in confusion. "He's a man?"