Part 20
Serena learned of the departure the morning after. She had spent the night with her mother in the duke's townhouse, as she soon always stood now that Blair and Chuck were married and there was no need to keep up the pretenses of Cece as the chaperone. When she and her grandmother made their way back to Chuck's house to oversee the movement of Serena's wardrobe, Serena found her stepbrother inside the salon, running his hands the keys of a grand piano.
"Lord Charles, that is a beautiful instrument," commented Cece Rhodes.
Chuck nodded. "It took a long time to transport from Paris."
Serena made her way to the piano and reached out a hand. Chuck caught her wrist, then shook his head. "The piano is Blair's."
Cece smiled. "Surely she would not mind your sister—"
"No, grandma," Serena interrupted gently. "It would be best if Blair were the first one to play it here."
Chuck gave her a tight smile, then placed the lid down over the keys. Serena walked over to the settee and took a seat. Lady Rhodes nodded and did the same. The marquis requested for some tea to be brought in for his guests.
"That is rather fine work, my lord," Cece said of the piano. "How long did it take for you to have it imported?"
The loud banging on the door startled those gathered in the salon. It was Chuck who first stood and strode towards the door. Lady Rhodes, Serena's grandmother, placed a hand on Serena's arm when the young woman rose as well.
"Let your stepbrother see to it, my dear."
Serena frowned and shook her head, then followed after Chuck. She arrived at the foyer at the same time as the butler pulled the door open to a blast of rain. She gasped when she saw the man huddled against the doorframe.
"Daniel!"
Daniel Humphrey tumbled onto the floor in a mass of drenched clothing. Chuck immediately knelt beside the secretary. With his face grim, he pulled the hand that Daniel used to clutch his thigh. Chuck touched the matted cloth, then looked up. "It's blood. Call the doctor."
"Oh God," Serena choked out. In a flurry of hair and billowing cloth, she sat beside her fallen lover. "Daniel, please open your eyes."
When he did, it was not to her that he turned to but to the marquis. "My lord, I apologize," he whispered. He blinked, trying to focus. Ultimately, his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious.
Serena gathered his head on her lap. Chuck placed both hands on the man's shoulders and shook. "Humphrey, where is my wife?" he demanded. When Daniel did not respond, he shook harder. "Humphrey!" he called. "Where is Blair?"
Serena faintly pushed Chuck's hands away. "Stop," she pleaded.
Chuck scowled, then slapped Daniel's cheeks. "Wake up, Humphrey. What happened? Damn you, where is my wife?"
"Stop it!" Serena screamed, then pushed at Chuck's chest with all her might. "Leave him be."
She called to the servants to help her take Daniel up the stairs. Chuck gathered himself up and stood, glaring after her. Serena took her skirts in hand and followed up the stairs. She turned to give her stepbrother one last glance. At the sight of his anger, she set her jaw and turned up her chin. "You may speak with him when he wakes," she told him.
Chuck turned to the remaining servant. "Bring me my horse." He took his coat from the hanger and pulled it on, then ran out into the street in the rain. When the stallion was brought around, he placed a foot onto the stirrup and pulled himself up.
Intent on his mission and unwilling to wait, he kicked the horse's side and blazed his way out of London, towards the very road that the carriage had taken.
Remember this, she had whispered to him. It had only been mere hours since she left him, hours since they had taken these very roads. Remember this. The rain blinded his eyes, not tears, he told himself. There was no reason for tears. At the end of this road, she would be warm and safe in front of the roaring fire in his grand country home.
You will never escape me, she had told him.
He did not sail across the channel, almost lose his life, and completely give his entire heart only to close the book like this.
This was not how it was going to end.
"You will never escape me, Blair," he vowed, as he rode hard into the night.
Five hours out of London, it was the same words he chanted over and over in his head. The refrain was tiresome, but he held on so fast and so tightly, because letting go, missing a beat, would be a concession. Even as he stood at the edge of the cliff, where the carriage tracks ended, the words were an unending chorus.
He stared down the rocky edge, into the white foamy water that crashed and slammed and exploded against the rocks. Chuck swallowed. With his limbs heavy, he tossed his leg over the saddle and cantered back towards from where he came.
~o~o~o~o~o~
He opened the door to Daniel's room. The moment he stepped inside, his senses reeled at the odor of medicines and disinfectant. The secretary lay pale in the center of the bed. Chuck removed his gloves and walked over to stand beside Daniel's form.
"Wake up," he commanded curtly, grateful that his stepsister was not there to police him.
Daniel's face was still damp, his hands clammy when he opened his eyes to see the hazy figure of the marquis looming over him. "My lord," he whispered.
Chuck set his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. "It's been two weeks, Mr Humphrey. You have had enough rest. What has happened to my wife?"
At that, the secretary struggled to sit up, then hissed at the pain and fell back against the pillows. "Two weeks?" he gasped. "My lord, she has been abducted by her stepbrother."
Chuck bared his teeth. "Aaron Rose?"
Daniel nodded. "Five hundred thousand."
Chuck took a deep breath, then walked over to the armchair to the side of the bed. He was certain that Aaron Rose did not need five hundred thousand, and the abduction was nothing but revenge. He settled into the seat and stared at the far off wall. "You must recover, Humphrey. We will search for her."
A soft knock, and Serena stepped into the room. She was surprised to see Chuck sitting there. Her eyes immediately flew to Daniel, who nodded and waved her inside.
"How are you?" she asked softly.
Daniel gave her a tight smile. "I will be up and about very soon, to assist the marquis in the search for his wife."
Serena frowned. "Search? But the carriage—"
"Search," Chuck interrupted.
The blonde placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Her grace would like your presence at dinner tonight, Chuck. It would be good for you to come."
Chuck turned cold eyes at her. "To dine with my father?" he spat.
"Yes!" Serena exclaimed. "To dine with your father, and my mother, and me. We care about you, Chuck. You have to realize there are people other than you who are affected by all this," Serena cried out. And then she knelt in front of him and took his hand in hers. "Please, Chuck. Please come. I cannot watch you vanish into thin air, all alone."
Chuck gave a small nod. "Go."
He almost did not come. When he thought of it, the more reason there was for him to stay within his own four walls. But the silence was deafening in its utter loudness. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and could almost imagine what his thick dark hair would look like with silver streaking through. When he was old and graying, would he still be in this position, dressing up in his fine clothes and getting ready for a night in another man's family home?
Slowly, he descended the steps. He noticed his butler standing at the bottom step with his coat and his hat.
"Is the carriage ready?" Chuck's voice rumbled.
"Yes, my lord," replied the man, handing the items to his employer.
And then he heard the haunting music from the salon. Chuck's heart caught in his throat. He glowered at the butler, because everyone in the house knew never to touch the piano. The butler appeared unfazed, as if he heard nothing. Chuck shook his head, then strode towards the salon. He pushed the doors open.
And there she sat, with her back to him, her fingers flowing over the keys as the chords rose from her hands as if visible, tangible. He wanted to say her name, but he did not, so afraid was he to disturb the tentative peace. He walked over to the piano and laid his palm flat on top of it, and he felt the vibrations of the song to his core.
"Where have you been?" he finally sighed.
The fingers stopped. She looked up. And then, she reached up a hand towards him. As if she had cast a spell, he leaned forward and laid his cheek against her hand. "How could I leave?" she responded with her own question and a smile.
And it was all he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in relief. And then he opened his eyes, and the light vanished. He stood inside the dim room, holding on to the piano. The keys were still covered, and the seat was tucked underneath the instrument, unused, untouched.
The doors of the salon opened. "My lord?"
"I will be right there," Chuck said.
He slid on his coat and strode quickly towards the exit.
~o~o~o~o~o
Walking into the duke's townhouse was eerily unsettling. His memories of the place were discomforting at best. It was in those halls that he had carried his wife through when his father revealed his role in Harold Waldorf's death. It was also in those rooms that Blair had overheard the fact, and ran into the arms of the man Chuck had always feared could break their bond.
Yet it was not Nathaniel who finally severed his relationship with Blair. It was not his father who sent her away. In a move filled with panic and fear, Chuck had sent her to his faraway country home in hopes that she would not decide to leave.
He had done what he had told Nathaniel to do a long time ago, when he first learned that his best friend was about to marry his ten-year fiancé. Send her to the country and live your life as a bachelor, he had advised.
"Your grace," he greeted Lilly.
The older woman gave him a sad smile and a warm embrace. When she pulled away, Lilly reached down to smoothen her skirt. His gaze fell on the cloth, because it was the first that he had felt on his mother the same coarse material. The gown was dark brown, almost black. Lilly avoided the color at all costs, and so the image of the duchess in the drab garment was particularly noticeable.
He nodded at his father when the duke entered the dining area. "Why is it so dark?" he asked the duke.
Bartholomew shook his head, then gestured at one of the maids to draw back a curtain. When she did, Chuck saw the black ribbon hanging from the window. He gritted his teeth.
"Chuck, it is good that you came."
Serena van der Woodsen entered the room in her dark blue gown. He gave her a tight smile, and brought her hand up to kiss. Until he saw the black satin ribbon wrapped around her wrist. He dropped her hand as if burned.
"You are all in mourning," he said finally.
"Darling, it must be done. We need to show some respect. She was a part of the family," Lilly told him.
"She is alive," Chuck insisted. "I can pay the ransom ten times over."
Serena, in tears, told him, "It was weeks ago, and we have not heard a word since. You said it yourself, Chuck. The carriage had fallen into the water."
"No," Chuck said. "Until I see a body, she is alive."
The butler entered the room, then leaned towards the duke with a whisper. The duke nodded, then walked over to his son. With a hand on Chuck's arm, the duke led the way to the receiving area. Chuck hesitated at the sight of the constable.
"What have you found?" the duke asked.
The constable bowed to the duke, then extended a closed fist. "I reckon this be yers." He opened the gloved hand and revealed a muddy ring. "We've expanded the search area as requested, yer grace," the constable shared. "Found this on a body washed ashore. Wer mighty sorry."
With trembling fingers, Chuck reached for the ring and took it in his hands. Behind him, Serena choked out, "Is it hers?"
Chuck rubbed the ring against his pristine cravat, marring the cloth with the dark stain. He read the inscription, then clutched it against his chest.
Promise me it will be like this forever, he heard in his ear.
Chuck stumbled out of the duke's townhouse and collapsed into his carriage. He closed his eyes, then leaned his forehead on the window. "Stop," he pleaded softly into the empty vehicle.
But phantom hands touched him, phantom lips brushed butterfly kisses on his nape. He closed his eyes and struggled to contain the tears. And then, phantom fingers wiped them away. He finally leaned back against the seat, then opened his eyes.
And there she was in front of him, smiling. He said, "You are driving me mad, my love."
She sighed, then pulled her hair over her shoulder. She then looked down at her stomach and placed a hand over the swell. With a trembling hand, he covered hers. He felt the fluttering wings inside and knew it was his child. She then released his hand and asked, "Do you wish for me to leave you alone then?"
And it would have been best to say yes, to let go, to mourn the way his parents urged. "Never leave me," he told her.
When the carriage stopped in front of his own townhouse, Chuck jumped off the carriage and turned back to help her. He found the carriage empty. And then, his butler opened the door. Music wafted to his ears, coming from the dark, empty salon. Exhausted, he climbed the stairs and walked into his room.
And there she was, sleeping in his bed. He took a deep breath, discarding his clothes on his way. He settled into the bed, under the covers. And then he felt her curl against his body for warmth. He saw his reflection in the mirror, all alone, huddled in the bed with red-rimmed eyes. He turned his head to see her brown one pillowed on his arm. He placed a kiss into her hair.
"You have to keep your promise," he told her. "Forever. I will never let go."
If this were illusion, he would never want to wake.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Her fingers flew over the keys, producing a haunting melody that even she could not recognize. Beside her sat her young charge, watching in awe.
The young girl clapped her hands at the end, then turned. "What is that song?"
Lord Marcus Beaton chuckled. "Forgive her. I fear she has not had much education in English literature or the arts. Emma, do you not think it is time we sent your teacher for some rest?"
Emma sighed, then smiled. "Of course, uncle." She stood, then gave her teacher a hug. "Goodnight." And the girl reached down to place a hand over stomach. "Be good, baby."
They watched as Emma left the room, and smiled when they heard the scampering footsteps as the fifteen year old ran to her room. "So what do you think?" he said softly, his eyes shining at her.
"She is a beautiful child."
"But completely unruly. We only have a couple of years to turn her into a debutante," Marcus told her.
She shook her head. "Why would you even want me? You can take your pick from many governesses eager to work for an earl's household."
He walked over to her, then sat beside her. He placed his fingers on the keys and played the last notes of the song she had played for Emma. "It is a song written by a poet laureate. It's called Song to Celia," he offered. And then he glanced at her with a smile on his face. "Titles and names such as those may have been forgotten, but the music cannot," he told her. "If you can play it, you can feel it. That is all that matters, Beatrice."
tbc
AN: Let me know what you think. Everyone else already has a plot, but I am delayed by Vanessa. It seems I have written her out. Never fear, I shall go and find something for her. Lol.