Author's Note: I've written a haiku. It describes my thought process when I'm uploading new chapters of this story:
My beta, Kim, rocks.
My readers are awesome, too.
Procrastination.
Admit it. You totally counted the syllables out in your head.
Anyway, it looks like the story is slowly, but surely, coming to an end. It is NOT over yet, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Still a few loose ends to tie up, and some happy endings to finagle. God, I'm going to be so depressed when I finish this story.
MARGOT
"Gogo, please don't feed Zeus any more kippers. His breath is bad enough as it is."
Margot glanced up from Zeus's big, pleading brown eyes and met her sister's gaze. "But he likes them so very much," she said, sticking out her bottom lip in a pitiful pout.
Lena rolled her eyes and grinned. Beside her, Samson smiled. His reaction to Lena's joy was so instinctive, so unplanned, that Margot felt sudden tears burning at the back of her eyes, surprising her with the power of her emotions.
It was just that… after all this time of hiding in the shadows… it must have been so very nice, and yet also very frightening, for Samson to be so suddenly thrust into the light. Margot wanted to comfort him, but Samson did not need comforting. He needed to grow accustomed to the light; he would be living in it for the rest of his life.
"Samson, who are those boys in the green bedroom?" Margot asked, using the distraction to slip one last fish down to Zeus. "Are they your sons?"
Samson's eyes narrowed; he was not fooled by her ploy. "Of course not," he said gently. "They are orphans. Their father died last night."
Margot felt guilt nipping at her heels, and her smile faded. "Oh," she said, her voice soft. "That must have been terrible."
"It was," Samson agreed, his voice soft.
A heavy, solemn silence settled between the three of them, broken only by the steady thumping of Zeus's big tail on the carpeted floor.
"If I were a little boy," Margot said thoughtfully, "and I had just lost someone very close to me, I think I would very much like to have a friend." A warm, wet nose bumped against her hand, snuffling happily. "And perhaps a dog."
Lena smiled, and Samson nodded. "I think you are right."
Margot stood, and gestured for Zeus to follow her to the door. She paused there, and turned back to look at Lena and Samson.
Sitting there, together, doing nothing more than holding hands and smiling, they looked so achingly beautiful, so… so very whole.
Both of them. They just looked whole. Lena was no longer quite so pale, and she did not have that haunted, hollow look in her eyes. And Samson did not flinch at every noise. His back did not bow like the weight of the world and all its darkness sat heavily on his shoulders.
Margot took a moment to memorize them. To memorize how the hazy morning light streamed through gauzy curtains and picked out the golden blonde highlights in Lena's hair. To memorize how Samson's scars seemed to shine with a dull light with every movement he made. To memorize the looks of absolute and complete happiness on their faces.
To memorize this moment, so that she would always be able to look back and know what true, soul-deep love looked like.
And, for the first time in her life, Margot felt a very small twinge of jealousy, followed by a whisper of concern that snaked through her mind.
What if I never know this kind of love?
As if in response to her question, Samson nodded, just once. It could just as easily have been a gesture of farewell, or of friendship, or just a simple, meaningless nod.
But it wasn't.
She saw it in his eyes. That question, and its answer. She saw the echo of that fear, and she knew that he had wondered that. For a very long time, Samson had wondered if he would ever find this kind of love.
He had.
And so will you.
Margot nodded back. And she smiled.
And then she turned and started towards the green bedroom to make some new friends.
Zeus fell into step beside her, his tongue lolling out happily as they made their way up the main staircase and towards the wing of the house where the family slept. Samson's room was at the far end, in the corner; Margot had heard her mother mention to Eleanor that she thought he might be more comfortable if he were not surrounded on all sides by other people.
Very perceptive, her mother.
She knocked loudly on the door to the green bedroom, and when she didn't hear any sounds in response, she slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.
The three boys stood in the very middle of the room, huddled tightly together, with the oldest standing in front, guarding his two younger siblings.
Margot stepped into the room, and Zeus padded around and sat down in front of her. Her big, gangly, adorable guard dog.
"Hello," she said to the boys politely. It was odd, seeing them standing there like that; it was almost as if they were afraid to touch anything.
The oldest boy, the guardian, he lifted his chin defiantly and frowned at her.
"What d'you want?" he demanded. Margot winced. His accent was atrocious.
"Oh, I don't know," she said. "Your names, perhaps?"
"An' what's it to you?" he replied immediately.
"There's no need to be so rude," Margot snapped, placing her hands on her hips like Cook did when she yelled at the scullery maids. "I'm just trying to be polite."
"Well, you can just shove it, then."
She was momentarily baffled. "Shove it? Shove… shove what? Where?"
Despite himself, the boy snorted in sudden, surprised laughter. But then he immediately sobered and frowned at her again. "Go away."
"I'll stay right where I am, thank you," Margot replied haughtily. "You cannot order me about in my own house; only my parents can do that. And my governess, Miss Buckham, I suppose. Though I don't usually listen to her."
The boy blinked. "This is… this is your house?"
"Of course it is," Margot snapped. "I wouldn't very well be here if it wasn't, now would I?"
The boy looked somewhat baffled. "No," he said with a slow nod, "no, I don't suppose you would."
And that was that.
After a moment of odd silence between them, Margot sighed impatiently. "Well?"
"What?" He replied, genuinely curious this time. Despite the layer of grime and soot that covered every inch of exposed skin, the boy's eyes were bright and quick. And pale, pale blue.
A smile tugged at her lips. "What is your name?" she asked gently.
He blinked, and cleared his throat. "Me name's Samuel Taylor Coleridge, but all abouts call me Sam." He gestured with his chin towards the boy huddled behind him to his right. "This is Gabriel Jonathan, but we call 'im Jack." He nodded at the youngest, and a brief smile lit his face. "And this is Michael Benjamin, but 'e's just Mickey."
"It is a pleasure to meet you," Margot said with a polite curtsey.
The boys stared at her like they'd seen a ghost. She didn't quite understand why. Didn't anyone curtsey where they were from?
"What's your name, then?" Sam asked casually.
"My full name is Margot Gabriella Regina Elizabeth Dubois," she said. She wondered why she felt the sudden urge to allow her French lilt to leak into her proper Engish accent. Strange. She'd never before felt tempted to flaunt her native language.
"Well, that is a bloody mouthful, then, innit?" Sam replied in a quiet voice.
"Indeed," Margot replied. "You may call me Gogo."
"That one's even stranger," Sam noted.
Margot just shrugged. "How old are you?"
At that question, Samuel sobered quickly, and stared down his nose at her, answering in a curt voice. "I'm firteen, I am."
Margot frowned. "Fur-teen… Oh. Thirteen." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't look thirteen."
"Says you!" Sam snapped, taking one threatening step towards her.
From Margot's side, Zeus let out a very soft growl. A gentle warning.
The boy froze in his tracks, and his eyes widened. Margot did not mock his fear, she merely leveled a steady, expectant frown at him and waited.
For a few moments, Sam glared angrily at her.
And then, quite suddenly, he dropped his gaze to the floor and cleared his throat.
"Maybe… Maybe I'm eleven," he mumbled at the carpet.
Margot nodded. "As am I," she said simply. She tilted her head at him. "Why on Earth would you lie about your age like that?"
Sam lifted his gaze. There was something about his eyes, at that moment. Something old and weary. Sadness ached within her heart, seeing that look on his face.
"If they think I'm old enough to take care of me brovers by meself, they won't take 'em away, right?" It wasn't so much a questions as it was a statement of fact. He truly believed that his brothers might be taken from him at any moment.
How terrible!
Margot's gaze fell to Mickey and Jack, still standing behind their brother, arms wrapped about themselves as if they were afraid any part of them sticking out might be used to yank them apart from each other.
"Who is going to take them away?" Margot demanded, suddenly angry at these nameless, faceless entities that threatened such innocent little boys.
Sam blinked at her. "The big man. Samson," he said slowly. "And… and the lady. 'Elena."
A sudden, surprised laugh escaped her. "They would never try to separate you, silly boy," she said with a disbelieving shake of her head. "And her name is Helena, with an 'H,' if you please. She is my sister."
"The nice lady?" the youngest chirped, peeking his head around Sam's elbow with wide, bright blue eyes. "She's what?"
"Hush, Mickey," Sam snapped.
Margot smiled. "She's my big sister. Like Sam is your big brother."
"Not all that big," Mickey mumbled, eyeing Sam defiantly.
Sam lifted his hand up and brandished it at Mickey, a silent threat. But also an empty one; Mickey didn't even flinch.
Margot smiled again; it was obvious that Sam had not, and would never, hit his brothers, even if they were being mutinous.
"Quiet, you," Sam said. Then he directed his attention back to Margot. "You sayin' they ain't takin' us away?"
Margot sighed. She would have to work on that horrendous accent of theirs.
"From each other? No, they would never." She frowned for a moment. "Away from… from England? Well, I'm not quite sure. We usually return to France after the Season. Perhaps you'll join us?"
"Go to… to France?" Sam demanded, his voice cracking with disbelief.
"Yes, of course. That's where we live." Margot felt her voice lifting as she considered the prospect of returning home. "It is lovely there. No fog, no smoke, no dirty rivers that smell of unmentionable things. Just the endless blue sky and the countryside, rolling hills and old forests that go on forever and ever. The air smells like sunbeams and pine trees, and everywhere you go you can hear birds singing and crickets chirping." She glanced back over at the boys, and found them watching her with wide, quiet eyes. They appeared almost… entranced. Bewitched by the picture she had painted for them.
Mickey, the youngest boy, had tears glittering in his bright blue eyes. Margot stepped around Zeus and moved forward, skirting Sam so that she could kneel before Mickey.
"What's wrong, darling?" she asked gently, holding out her hands on instinct.
Instantly, Mickey came forward and latched on to her neck, sniffling quietly. "So pretty, lady," he whispered against her shoulder. "Sound so pretty."
Sam winced. "'E means what you said about… about France. He thinks it sounds… nice." Sam moved forward to take Mickey, but Margot shot him a quelling frown and picked up the little one, setting him on her hip just like Lena had always done when she carried Margot about the house as a child.
"Careful, Mickey," Sam said nervously. "You'll muss up 'er fine dress, you will."
"Stuff and nonsense," Margot replied. "It's just a dress."
"Yer daft, lady," Sam muttered.
Margot grinned. "Probably."
Something changed, at that moment. Sam's shoulders dropped, and that wary frown faded from his lips. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Bright blue eyes glittered from his soot-stained face.
And he smiled.