The plot thickens, but hopefully not too fast.
Any opinions on this story would be great! I'm going to slow the pace down for the next chapter. This one just needed to get the ball rolling. Hope you enjoy it and leave me some nice reviews and whatnot. You're all absolute darlings...
Three weeks into college and Gwen was actually starting to enjoy it. The gang (who referred to themselves as the Losties) was a living map of London, and they exposed her to all the best cultural norms and the worst faux pas. She and Peter spent hour upon hour practicing violin and learning to play off each other and improvise, which impressed Mr. Painter. Gwen and Britney often went out on the town together for girl's night. Lady Guinevere, as she was called by the Losties, had become a true Londoner, and even picked up some of the accent.
In general, life was pretty grand for Guinevere Bellamy.
Until her Genealogy 101 teacher went on maternity leave. The substitute professor was an almost scary man, a professor from Eton who had taken a year-long sabbatical but couldn't help teaching even on his vacation. Professor Roger was an extremely intelligent and witty man. Gwen loved to listen to him teach, even if it got a little intense sometimes (who knew people could be so passionate about family lines?), his lectures were never boring. His bright blue eyes would roam the room, locking on one student or another and almost hypnotizing them like a snake set on prey. Gwen enjoyed Genealogy, even if Professor Roger was slightly odd. The big change came on a Tuesday in early October, when Professor Roger entered the classroom carrying a large cardboard box.
"What I have in this box is very special," he began. "There is one of them for each of you. It is your duty to use them to your advantage as you begin your final project, which is due the week before the end of term. Understood?"
"Yes, Professor," the class intoned.
"Good. I want you to make a family tree. Not just any family tree, though. I want you to find artifacts from your ancestors and put them into a display worthy of a museum. This must be beautiful and intricate and entertaining! I want stories, pictures, various items of clothing, old hairbrushes with initials carved into the silver, family instruments! If you can manage to find them, carvings from tree bark that your great-grandfather left before going off to war. Your grandmother's first sampler, your great-grandmother's nightgown! These are the little things that make your history interesting!"
"Wow," Gwen breathed to herself, already picturing what an amazing display she could make. She knew that her great-great-grandfather had been part of the Irish Mob.
"Here in these boxes I have documents gathered by the beautifully helpful History majors, by the way, high five a history major this week and thank them for their effort. Each box belongs to a student and contains the basic documents of their family's history. Names, dates, places, occupations, etcetera," Professor Roger continued. "I'll pass them out by the seating chart, so you just sit tight and wait for me to come around. You may open your box and begin your project as soon as you receive it."
Gwen practically buzzed in her seat two rows back. The closer the Professor got, the more excited she became. He handed her a blue wooden box covered in paintings of clouds and vines (each student's box had been personalized) and winked, his eyes sparkling. "You're a lucky one, Bellamy, you already have an artifact."
"No fair," the boy sitting next to her joked. "You've got a head start."
"Lucky me," Gwen returned with a smile. Professor Roger flicked his black ponytail over his shoulder before continuing down the line of students, handing out boxes. A lucky boy in the front row exclaimed in joy about the fact that his first document was a circus poster for a side-show freak. Nervously, Guinevere lifted the lid of her box and peeked inside. A smaller box sat in one corner, and the rest of the space was stuffed with papers, mostly crisp white copies of older documents.
She reached for the smaller box, opening it gingerly and peeking inside. Sitting against a blue-velvet backdrop was a small silver thimble; a children's thimble. Stamped into the silver at the very top were the letters W.D. surrounded by a heart. With suddenly shaky hands, Gwen closed the case and returned it to her box, choosing instead to rifle through the papers. Why was that so shocking? It's just a thimble. I shouldn't feel any sense of foreboding over a child's thimble. But that was exactly what she felt: dread and foreboding. The second she'd set eyes on it, her heart had sped up and something had nagged at the corner of her mind. "Keep looking," a voice said, "Keep looking and you might find more than you were looking for."
Gwen ignored it, brushing the feeling up to nerves about this being the final and her constant need to be creative with such projects (which usually led to stress). She turned to the first document, which was her grandfather's marriage certificate to one Jane Calahan in the year 1958 in a nondescript church somewhere in the northern part of London, England. Grandfather and Grandmother O'Rourke had died when Gwen was quite young, but she'd heard that they were eccentric and kind people with vivid imaginations. Her grandfather had been involved in the Irish Mob, according to the paper clipping hidden behind the marriage certificate, and had fled Ireland to the United States with his bride in the 70's.
She read through a real estate advertisement for the Darling Family Estate, which had been heavily vandalized by a group of street urchins. Pictures of the interior were littered with odd symbols and scary looking warnings such as The Fairies Die Here and one which had dried dripping and looked more terrifying than any of the others and read: Neverland is waiting.
These kids needed serious mental help, she decided, reading other reports of family businesses and her great-uncles various careers. Great-Uncle Michael had become a train engineer, and Great-Uncle John had married, become a banker like his father, and had three children. Two of them died in the Second World War, but the daughter grew up to be an actress.
Guinevere was so absorbed in her note-taking and reading that Professor Roger sitting on her desk and tapping her on the top of the head was what it took for her to realize that the classroom was totally empty. "Didn't you hear them leaving?" he chuckled, watching her flush an embarrassed pink.
"No, not really," she stuttered, tossing her papers back into the box and shoving her notebook back into her bag.
"Want me to write you a Professor's pass to your next class?" the teacher asked, tightening his ponytail and cocking his head to the side. Guinevere observed him as she packed up. He wore a navy blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and khakis, the shirt showing more than enough evidence that he was muscular and fit. His hair was curly, ebony black, and always tied into a ponytail. Gwen wondered how such a young man already had a teaching position at Eton; he couldn't be more than thirty years old.
"No, thank you. I don't have a class next period," Guinevere inwardly sighed with relief, pulling herself from her thoughts. She was embarrassed enough for one day, being late to class wouldn't help improve it much.
"Lucky you, eh?" Professor Roger joked, standing and meandering down to his desk. "I'm excited to see your project, Bellamy. You have an intriguing English family history. I would suggest taking a historic tour of Kensington Gardens. Ask the Gardner boy along, he knows the area pretty well from what I hear."
"Thanks," Gwen said, uncertain. "I'll ask him."
"Good day, Miss Guinevere."
"Good day, Professor," Gwen replied, dashing out the door and into the empty hallway. How long had she been reading? She headed for the green, tugging her jacket closer around her to fight the initial autumn chill. Only Bryce and Kevin could be found in the usual spot, stretched out on blankets with heavy textbooks, Kevin's titled The World of Birds and Bryce's European History – The Renaissance.
"Hey! What's up Lady Guinevere?" Bryce asked, having picked up Peter's nickname for her. Gwen shook her head and smiled at her friend.
"I'm alright. I ended up reading through the end of class. By the time I looked up, everyone in my class was gone and the hallways were empty," she said. Bryce and Kevin snorted simultaneously, adding to Peter's theory that they were somehow brothers.
"It's been at least fifteen minutes since class ended," Kevin chuckled, "You must really like to read."
"I find my family history fascinating," Gwen admitted. She held out the box, "I mean, check it out. This is some cool stuff."
"Hey! We made those!" Kevin exclaimed, reaching for the box. He took it gingerly and opened the lid, digging through the contents and occasionally reading one. He handed a paper to Bryce, who scanned it with wide eyes.
"Dude, no way! You have some cool grandparents and great-grandparents," Bryce decided. "The Darlings are pretty famous."
"Yeah…I didn't even know we were related. My grandparents died just after I was born and my great-grandparents aren't a popular topic of conversation at my house. I guess great-grandfather's involvement in the Irish Mob had something to do with that," Gwen surmised. "Whatever the reason, I didn't even know their names until today."
"Well you're a bona fide Londoner, now," Kevin remarked. "Your history proves it."
"Well, I'm going to continue my notes," Gwen asserted. "And you guys should probably get back to your reading, yeah?"
"Yup," they said in unison.
The three of them spent the free period doing various assignments, comparing notes, and Kevin and Bryce practiced their percussion parts for the big orchestra concert (Kevin, Bryce, and Stephanie were percussionists for the orchestra) by slapping each other upside the head to the beat of the music. Gwen got a text message from her next period professor, apologizing for the late notice but due to a burst pipe in her classroom, class was canceled for the day and read chapter fifteen of her textbook for tomorrow.
"Sweet, I'm free for the rest of the day," Gwen declared. Kevin and Bryce shot her jealous looks.
"Well, I'd best be off to Medieval Literature," Kevin sighed, gathering his books and notes into his bag and shouldering it. "Where are you headed, Bryce?"
"Biology," he grimaced.
"Freshmen," Kevin laughed to himself, giving the two of them a pitying look.
"Sophomores," Gwen chuckled, rolling her eyes at Kevin. "They think they're so hot."
"I know who you think is hot," Kevin intoned, watching Guinevere trip over a tree root.
"What? Who?" Bryce turned, his big blue eyes full of excitement. "Who does Lady Guinevere like?"
"He's the closest to King Arthur our group will ever find," Kevin winked. Bryce's wide smile grew a little (if possible) and he gave Gwen an understanding nod.
"Peter is pretty attractive. Plus you get to spend all that extra time with him, practicing beautiful music together and being really close," Bryce mused, "'If music be the food of love, play on.' Shakespeare was right!"
"He's cute, okay?" Gwen huffed. "There's nothing wrong with thinking someone is cute."
"You should go on a date," Kevin suggested.
"Tell him that!" Guinevere said, not even bothering to argue that a date with Peter Gardner would be absolutely lovely. "Though I'm not sure I want to ruin our friendship. We get along really well."
"Oh don't give me any of that absolute bollocks," Kevin snapped. "It'll happen, just give it time."
"Whatever you say," Gwen conceded. "Well, I'm going to hit the library. See you boys after class!"
"Yeah," Kevin waved. Bryce and Kevin headed off, and Gwen went for the library. It was a vast room full of books, a few computer stations, and other students, all poring over various texts (some looking hopelessly lost and sad and confused). Gwen spotted a familiar tuft of brown hair, and plopped down in the seat across from her best friend.
"Hey lovely," Gwen whispered. "Whatcha reading?"
"Romeo and Juliet," Britney replied. "I have to finish it for class tomorrow. We're doing a unit on sex jokes in Shakespeare."
"Coolest unit ever," Gwen smiled.
"Yeah, it could be worse," Britney smirked, looking up from her book.
"Want to see something cool?" Gwen asked, reaching for her blue box of family treasures.
"Yeah!"
"Check this out," Guinevere held the box open, reaching for the thimble box. She felt dread flood her stomach as soon as she touched it, but she pushed the feeling aside again. Maybe she needed more sleep or something. "It belonged to my great-grandmother, Wendy Darling."
"You're a Darling?" Britney asked, eyes wide and disbelieving. "They have an old family curse, you know."
"No, I don't," Gwen stated. Britney's eyes began scanning the library.
"Come with me, I'll show you," she demanded. Gwen stood, following Britney to a section marked Historical Newspapers. "Your family has the worst luck…"