When Masks Fall Off

Chapter 5.44: When Arguments Form Doubts

It was Francis. It was Francis. Sure, she had been delighted to see him before, and every encounter with him and Keith as of late had been extremely emotional. But this was very different; she was not feeling emotional because of her conflicting feelings for the brothers; this time it was because she had spent so long alone, among strangers and practically strangers like John and Raphael, and now here was Francis, someone whom she actually felt like she really knew and trusted like family.

The thought made her pause a moment. Like family? Was that what she had just thought? No; that couldn't be right; she was in love with Francis! Not...

The thought brought to mind the memory of the back of Keith's blood-stained shirt, for some reason, and Nadja shoved the thought from her mind with an internal shudder.

"Nadja," said Francis, approaching through the crowd.

"Francis," Nadja replied.

"Oh, you two know each other?" said John. "He's the friend from school I told you about, Nadja; the one who made me tea?"

But it was no longer particularly important what John had to say, or how he and Francis knew each other, because Francis was there. A tear slipped from Nadja's eyes as she thought of everything that she had gone through between now and the last time she had seen Francis. Her brooch robbed, then Kei- Then Rosemary pretending to be her, and her mother taken from her, being chased by the police, going off on her own, learning the trials that came with living in this world on one's own...

"Lots has happened since then," Nadja said quietly. "A friend is impersonating me...I had to leave the Troupe..."

Francis pulled Nadja into a soft embrace. Nadja felt the tears leak from her eyes more rapidly than ever. Francis was so like Keith, she couldn't help thinking, and yet so different. Francis's embrace was soft; comforting. Keith's was...stronger, both rougher and securer at the same time. Nadja gently pulled herself from Francis's embrace, and smiled up at him.

Apparently, Francis didn't miss the sadness in her smile, because he bid John a quick goodbye, heading off with an arm around Nadja's shoulders to exit to call over his carriage. In the carriage, on the way back to the Harcourt Manor, Nadja explained to Francis everything that had happened as of late. It was a relief to get all her pain off her chest—yet she couldn't bring herself to say a word of Keith, though being around Francis brought Keith further forward in her mind than he had been in weeks.

Was he all right? Was he even alive? Why wasn't he coming to see her? Why had he even gone that far, just for her? Because he loved her, he had said? Well, was love even that important? More important than his life?

"Don't worry," said Francis. Nadja looked up; he was smiling at her. Her heart caught in her throat: he knew what she'd been thinking. But how? "We'll get your family to see that you're the real Nadja. I'll go with you to the House of Preminger to help you prove that you're really who you say you are."

Nadja gave a start; yes, they'd been talking about that, hadn't they? Somehow, her own problems seemed to pale to insignificance beside the issue of Keith. She tried not to wonder why: the mere thought of the answer to that question was strangely frightening.

When they reached the Harcourt Manor, the pair was unaware of Maryann watching them walk up to the manor. "The manor seems to be bustling today," Nadja commented as they made their way through the hallways of the estate.

"There's a party tonight," Francis explained. "Everyone's in a hurry to prepare for that."

They said no more until they reached a door where Francis stopped. "Just let me get ready first," Francis said, turning the knob. "Then we'll head off to Vienna immediately."

But when he opened the door, there was another man already standing in the room; and Nadja knew who it was at once.

"Brother," said Francis, sounding rather surprised. But Keith paid him no heed.

"Nadja, I've come for you." Nadja just continued to stare. "We're heading for Vienna immediately. I've tracked down your mother: she's remarried, and is now the Countess Waltmular. Let's go!" And he took her by the hand and began dragging him towards the window. Is he always this reckless? wondered some distant part of Nadja's mind. And with that thought came back the stickiness and the warmth of Keith's blood that had seeped heavily through his shirt and stained her fingers red; the way he had been barely able to stand, and yet insisted on pretending that he was fine; all the worry that he had put her through, and then he just had the nerve to show up like he was fine?

Nadja snatched her wrist back from Keith's hand, ready to start a tirade...when Francis grabbed Keith by the wrist. "Stop that!" The brothers glared at one another.

"Keith, I'm taking Nadja to Vienna. We're going to meet Duke Preminger and explain everything. If I offer myself as a witness as to the fact that Nadja's always been in possession of that brooch-"

"What a round-about way of getting to your goal," snapped Keith. He slapped Francis's hand from his wrist. "Nadja just wants to meet her mother; the Duke's got nothing to do with this. I'm going to take Nadja and sneak into the Waltmular Manor. That's the fastest way to let Nadja meet her mother."

"And that won't solve anything!" Francis snapped back. "If the Duke doesn't accept Nadja as his granddaughter, Nadja won't be able to live with her mother!"

"If the Duke accepts Nadja as his granddaughter," said Keith, "Nadja will become the Preminger heir." He turned to Nadja, who still stood slightly dazed by everything that was happening around her. Something hot and boiling was rising in her belly, and it was all she could do to shove it down. "Do you want to live the boring life of a noble?"

"Don't make up her mind for her," Francis replied before Nadja had the chance to say a word. "Sure, the life of a noble didn't suit you, but-"

"It doesn't suit Nadja either! I can tell—Nadja, you're meant to be a bird flying free through the sky. Don't enter that cage called nobility!" Nadja struggled to bite her tongue; apparently, Francis saw this as Nadja fretting over what Keith had said to her, for he turned to her gently.

"Don't worry, Nadja. My mother was a noble, but she lived happily, following the path she wanted to live as a person; not as a noble."

"And we're back to your noblesse oblige," spat Keith. "That's just satisfies your own hypocritical satisfaction. Don't make me laugh!" Nadja would have loved to start yelling at Keith then, but the thing that was hot and ugly in her stomach was rising with her anger, and she thought she would explode if she said a word.

"It's better than what you do, at any rate," whispered a furious Francis. "Better than putting on a mask and playing the Hero of Righteousness." For a moment, just for a moment, Nadja forgot the fury building up in her and looked at Francis in surprise. Francis looked back at her, and she knew that he understood in that moment that she'd known who Keith was all along.

"So you knew," said Keith quietly.

"And so did Nadja, apparently," said Francis. "About you being the Black Rose." Outside, amongst the thunder and lightning, it started to rain. "Black Rose the Phantom Thief... Brother, I suppose you do what you do under the impression that you're the champion of the poor, but what you're doing is just plain simple and reckless."

Simple and reckless. Even as Nadja saw Keith's hands ball into fists, saw him take a step that was doubtlessly the beginning of a charge at Francis, the words rang true in the fury in her gut, and something inside her that had been holding that fury in check snapped. She took a step forward, and before Keith could realize what she was doing, she slapped him with all her might.

"Nadja?" That was Francis, but his voice seemed somewhere faraway. There was a ringing in her ears, and she glared furiously at the man who stood before her, looking utterly bewildered and shocked.

"Simple and reckless," Nadja growled. I growled, some distant part of her mind registered. I never thought I'd do that. "I suppose that hurts your pride, does it? But that, to be perfectly honest, is just about the best description of you I've ever heard!"

Keith's eyes darkened. "And there you go again," he spat, "Siding with your precious Francis. Well then, I'll just leave! I know where I'm not wanted!" He spun around, but Nadja had been ready for that. Silently thanking her foresight to keep the new design of the dress much less movement-restrictive, she did what she had been dying to do the first time she'd met the Black Rose in the alleyway in London.

She kicked him, the sharp high heel of her boot landing perfectly at the center of his back.

Keith gave a choke and fell to the ground. Nadja's eyes narrowed.

"I thought so. Still think you're not reckless? Because that was just ridiculous! Especially the running away! Honestly, do you have any idea what you do to a person when you run away even though they know perfectly well that you're wounded?"

"I wasn't," snapped Keith.

"Oh, and I suppose that you'll tell me that my fingers weren't sticky and red after I touched the back of your shirt."

"No one told you to do that!"

"Didn't they? And what did you expect me to do?"

"Go away and leave me alone, that's what!" Keith snapped. "You know, you can have your precious Francis for all I care—in fact, I never expected you to leave Francis for me at all!"

"Except just now, when you came storming in, ordering me to come with you!"

"That was different!"

The pair was far too engrossed in their argument to notice that Francis was staring at them, quite baffled by the conversation and Nadja's anger. Much as he wanted to cut in, he got the feeling that this Nadja was not to be trifled with, and so kept to his side of the room, watching Keith dig his own grave deeper and deeper. When the door opened, Francis simply gave Maryann a light, "Hi, come in if you want to, but just close the door, would you? This'll get even uglier if Aunt Emma or Father get wind of this."

"My my," Maryann replied, watching Nadja and Keith. "They certainly make quite the couple, don't they?" Francis's heart dropped to his stomach at that comment.

"Different? Different how?" Nadja was currently demanding. "Different from what? You go around kissing me, and then tell me that I'm free to choose Francis! You risk your life for me and come back all bloody and pretending you're fine, and tell you you love me, then tell me to go back to Francis. You come here trying to drag me with you, only to end up telling me that I should just follow my precious Francis. You know what, Keith? I think you haven't made up your mind at all! You just pretend you have, for who knows what reason, and I am just plain sick of trying to deal with you!"

"My apologies," said Keith with a mocking bow. Francis would have interjected something, but Nadja's following comment threw him too far, unfortunately: "Shirt. Off. Now."

"My, my," smirked Keith. "Someone's-"

"And if you start mocking me again now, I will personally see to it that something very painful happens to you, because you know full well that I'm only concerned with the state of your back, and if you don't want to show it to me, then fine! But if you ever pull something like that again, I will never, ever, ever forgive you! I don't need you to help me find my mother, so stay out of this!" Nadja spun around to face Francis. "Francis, we're going to Vienna. Let's go."

That said, Nadja grabbed Francis by the hand and dragged the unprotesting, befuddled young man out of the room. Maryann and Keith stared at the door: Maryann in amusement, Keith in half regret, and half frustration.

"Well," commented Maryann lightly. "I was afraid that that girl would take Francis from me, but it would appear that I have nothing to worry about."

Keith stared at the young woman whom he had last seen six years ago. "You're still after Francis?"

Maryann smiled. "But of course."

"Then I should think you have a lot to worry about. She just dragged your Prince Charming out the door!"

Maryann just kept smiling her demure smile, enjoying the first total, complete loss of composure in Keith that she had ever seen. "That's where you went wrong with Nadja. You don't have the slightest idea how a woman's mind works, and you keep infuriating her. Keep this up, and I'm sure you'll successfully get her to kill you out of her love for you."

Keith stared. "Are you suggesting that she did what she just did out of love? Because that would be the most absurd suggestion I've received in years."

"Oh no, Keith," said Maryann, walking up to him with a dangerous smile. "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm stating."

"Well, you're wrong," said Keith, standing his ground and glaring at the slowly approaching dangerously demonic female. "You're just trying to convince me to keep pursuing Nadja so you can have Francis."

Maryann chuckled, spreading her feathered fan gracefully to conceal her mouth and nose. "You have so much to learn, Keith. She doesn't need any further persuasion. Have you ever seen her snap at Francis like that?"

"Why would she? She loves him!"

Maryann's eyes went hard, and her fan closed with a sharp snap. "The absence of argument isn't love, and you'd do well not to think so. Do you even have any idea why she went berserk on you like she did?"

Keith blinked.

"From what I gather, you hurt yourself quite seriously in trying to help her. You didn't mean for her to find out, but she did."

"So?"

"So you worried her," said Maryann, sounding dangerously on edge. "I swear, why she would choose you over Francis is inconceivable! In fact, I'll bet she even thinks she loves Francis more than you! The innocent, righteous girl would never choose a thief, after all!" Keith remained silent, thinking of all Nadja had ever said to him about hating thievery. "It probably doesn't help that you put your life on the line all the time," Maryann added. "No girl wants her lover dead, after all. She may be a simpleton-"

"You're free to lecture me as you will," snapped Keith, "But leave Nadja alone!"

Maryann stared a moment, then smiled and spread her fan again. "My, this is amusing." Before Keith could ask what she meant by that, she was back on track again. "You worried the poor girl. She already knew that your line of work is dangerous, and you drove that home for her by nearly getting yourself killed for her!"

Keith glared. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I? Perhaps not. You should stay away from Nadja for another week; maybe two, even. She looked quite ready to kill you just now. You weren't much better either, once she started stabbing you in the core of your pride."

Maryann left the room in that suave, elegant sweeping way of hers, and Keith blinked at the door. Had Maryann just been...nice to him? Well, it had been quite a while since the last time that had happened.

"So, Nadja," Francis was saying tentatively. "I think we should talk."

Nadja sighed, releasing his arm. "I'm sorry, Francis. I didn't mean to..."

Francis waved a hand. "Don't worry about the kicking. I was about to land a punch on him myself, but I must say, you did quite well with that." He offered Nadja a small smile, which she hesitantly returned. "Nadja...if I'm not mistaken...you love him, don't you?"

Nadja's eyes wavered. "Francis, I-"

"Please don't talk around the question Nadja. You're in love with him, aren't you?"

With a sigh, Nadja slid to the floor along the wall. "Yes."

"I see," said Francis quietly, sounding rather choked. "Then...I- I'll just go then."

"No, wait, Francis!" Nadja scrambled to her feet.

"Why, Nadja?" sighed Francis. "You love Keith, and that's all there is to it. This whole thing with me was just a case of...of mistaken identity."

"No, it wasn't!" Nadja protested so vehemently that Francis couldn't help staring. "I love you too, Francis, it's just...not the same kind of love!" Nadja had had plenty of time to think about it, yet she had never understood the situation with as much clarity as she did now. "I love you no less deeply than I love Keith! It's just that...Keith's the one who makes me feel...alive, the one who I want to kiss, who brings out things in me I didn't even know I had in me... You—you're dearer to me than I could explain! You're there for me when I need a helping hand, you're fun to talk with, and we've got so much in common, and I just love spending time with you..."

"Like me and Keith were to each other when we were young," Francis replied with a little smile. "Like brothers—or like a sister and brother, in our case."

Nadja looked up at him with a troubled smile. "Yes, that's exactly what... I'm so sorry, Francis. I guess I was so used to having no family but the people from the orphanage that I just...mistook my feelings for you for something else."

"It probably didn't help that you seem to have had me confused with Keith at the beginning."

Nadja chuckled at that. "That's true enough." Then she sobered. "I'm sorry—so, so sorry, Francis..."

"Don't apologize," Francis said with a slow smile. "Because I think I was suffering from the same problem also. The only women in my life apart from my mother and aunt have been you and Maryann, and since I love the two of you equally but in such different ways, I suppose I just figured that since I loved Maryann...like a...sister....then my love...for you was...the other..." Francis trailed off. He stared blankly into thin air, and suddenly collapsed against the wall behind him.

"Francis?" called Nadja worriedly. "Francis? Are you all right?"

"Nadja," said a very dazed Francis, "I think I love Maryann."

"Of course you do," said Nadja. "You've been friends since you were children, haven't you?"

"Yes, but I always thought I loved her like a sister, but in light of our recent revelation—Nadja, I think I love Maryann. The same way you love Keith!"

Nadja blinked, then smiled. "That's good, though! This is great!"

Francis looked at Nadja wryly. "No, it isn't." When Nadja opened her mouth to ask why on earth he would think that, he was already rambling on. "I mean, we've spent our entire lives together! She's always been there, coming along with me on expeditions for charity, always around me and supporting me, joking with me about the old days—just like a sister! I've blown it. If I'd realized a few years ago, maybe I could have fixed...but I can't..."

Nadja stared blankly at Francis. She longed to tell Francis that his worries were unfounded—but couldn't. It wasn't her place, a part of her mind was whispering, and she had to reluctantly agree that it was right. "Well..." Then she gave a hundred watt grin. "Don't give up!" Francis looked up at her. "You're still sixteen—it's not like either of you is due to be married off at any given time yet! Besides, if she's going to love you, she'll love you for being you. So just be yourself—you might be surprised, you know."

A slow smile crossed her new-found brother's face. "Thanks. So, shall we go back to the room, then?"

Nadja's eyes darkened. "No." Francis stared at her vehemence. "I wasn't faking my anger! And I wasn't joking when I said that we're heading to Vienna either!"

Francis stared a little longer, then chuckled. "Shall we head off to Vienna then, my love?"

Laughing at his joke, Nadja replied with a delighted, "Naturally, darling!" and took his arm.

Neither noticed Maryann standing just around the corner of the hallway, having only just left the room where they had previously been. The young woman stood frozen, and for the first time, found herself heavily doubting her instincts. Her eyes narrowed: well then, she'd just put up a fight to get Francis back. Spinning around, Maryann hastened to find Emma: she hadn't intended to accept the offer, let alone have it announced so soon, but if this was the only way she could win Francis back, then she wouldn't hesitate to use her trump card.