"How did it go?" Arthur asked, ushering Jet into the drawing room where Elizabeth sat stitching a blanket, feigning disinterest.
"It went well, Frederick is expected to recover soon." Arthur shot him a glare that perfectly conveyed this was not the information he was looking for. Jet stifled a smile.
"And was Miss Mason there?"
"She was."
"So, are congratulations in order?" Arthur continued his extraction.
"Not, not for myself, anyway. Though I do suspect they will be for Miss Mason in the near future."
"Brother, you are talking in riddles." Elizabeth protested, turning from her work. "Whatever can you mean?"
"Miss Mason and I have dissolved our courtship."
"What?!" Arthur's eyes widened with shock, he held Jet by his upper arms. "Whatever could have possessed you to do such a damnably foolhardy thing!?"
"Dear!" Elizabeth exclaimed. Arthur took a few breathes to calm himself.
"I'm sorry Darling, I didn't mean to use such language in front of you. But Jet, you can't be serious."
"I am serious." Jet answered.
"Did she do something to cause you to hate her?" Arthur asked.
"No, nothing of the sort."
"Did you do something?" the young Duke furthered.
"Not as far as she is concerned."
"Than why?"
"She loved another, he loved her, and simply - I didn't. Her rank and fortune are simply not enough for that to be an obstacle worth attempting to surmount when I, myself, am indifferent. Though you need not worry about losing your companion, Elizabeth, for we parted on the most amiable terms and intend to continue our friendship." Jet could tell this news was a relief to Elizabeth who would have felt Ingrid's loss most acutely.
"Well, I think you made a very idiotic decision in surrendering her so easily. She was easily the most desirable woman in the county in all aspects, save for my own Elizabeth, and you let her slip through your grasp."
"I will not argue on her merits for she is easily worthy of such praise. But it is done and cannot nor will not be undone." Jet was firm in his words.
"I suppose so." Arthur answered. "Then that is that. But don't for a moment think I will give up the subject."
"I don't expect you would - at least not until it has been exploited to the fullest." Jet allowed for a half smile.
"Of course." and there was that dashing grin.
Jet stayed the night at Arthur and Elizabeth's house, followed by another and another until a full fortnight had passed in such a pleasant environment with such genial company as to make him forget the days. Arthur and Elizabeth were pleased to have his company as they prepared the nursery for the new arrival - every piece of miniature furniture, every frilly bonnet seemed to only further their joy. A large bassinet was purchased and placed in the master bedroom. Elizabeth spent many of her nights stitching embroidery on the baby's blanket. Ingrid often came to join her. Arthur was true to his word, ribbing his friend at every turn for the first week - particularly after Ingrid's engagement to Lord Danvers had been revealed. The young lady had seemed to bloom overnight - she had already been beautiful but now she seemed positively radiant - so much as to almost make Jet regret his decision. But then, that bloom should never have been so bright under his care. It seemed so very easy to get drawn into this life of leisure - the days seemed to fly by in a flurry of activity yet when he looked back on them at evening's end he was almost surprised to find he had done little at all. It was on one of these days, following a late winter snowfall, that Jet found himself reading in the drawing room while Elizabeth and Ingrid played a game of cards. Arthur sat across from his friend perusing the newspaper.
"Hmmm, it seems Clayton Hall has finally been let." Arthur commented, turning the page.
"By who, I wonder?" Elizabeth interjected.
"By the name I would guess some German family; I can't imagine any English family taking it." Arthur answered.
"Why not? I'd always understood Clayton was a highly desirable property." Jet inquired, looking up from his reading. Arthur fixed him with dubious look.
"You really don't know? For a man who has lived his entire life in the county you allow yourself to be far too ignorant of the business of its neighbors. I suppose you had other matters on your mind," Arthur nodded towards Ingrid. "but that is really no excuse, it was a quite a scandal."
"Dear, you know how I don't like gossip." Elizabeth interrupted her husband.
"Now, now, Darling, don't be a scold." Arthur chided his wife.
"So what happened?" Jet whispered.
"Well," Arthur drew closer so the women would not overhear. "It seems that the master of the house, Lord Foxham (I don't recall if you ever met him but I think introduced you to his daughter, Geraldine, once - though I can't say for sure), anyhow the old chap lost his entire fortune in a bad investment, gambled away the rest, and then offed himself in the study. They say his wife couldn't bear the shame and hung herself in the parlor. Now there's been news that the daughter drowned in an accident in London but, given the family history, I find that doubtful. I even heard rumors that she'd turned to whoring herself for liquor and opium. Knowing her, it is within the realm of possibilities, she was of the type to sell her virtue for the promise of comfort. Oh yes, now I recall - you did meet her at that ball in June! Yes, she tried to sell you some scandal with that bitter little tongue. Good thing you didn't fall in with her mate, she was of a bad lot, makes me regret I ever did."
"Pity." Jet replied after a pause, returning to his book. Arthur turned to address the women.
"Ladies, how does your game go?"
"We are just now finishing." Elizabeth replied. "It seems Ingrid has beaten me rather soundly."
"Ah, she is a formidable opponent - did I not tell you so on our travels?"
"You did warn me, Dear." Elizabeth acknowledged with a smile. "Dear, Ingrid and I were just discussing that we should like to take a sleigh ride this evening, before it becomes too dark."
"That sounds like a fine idea, Darling. I'll have Marcus ready the horses."
"We had better ready ourselves." Elizabeth giggled to her friend. "Thank you, Darling." Elizabeth bestowed a kiss on her beloved's cheek before leading Ingrid from the parlor. Arthur watched after them,
"You know you could still win her if you wished."
"I believe Lord Danvers would be quite put out were I to try and, I suspect, my efforts would come to naught." Jet returned, not even glancing up from the page. Arthur stood, with his fingers hooked on his pockets, watching out the window for a time until the bells of the sleigh could no longer be heard. He turned to face his friend.
"Where did you get that book anyway? Certainly not from our Library - it's filthy!" Arthur remarked. Jet turned the book to look at the cover. He had never particularly attended to it before; in its original surroundings it had not seemed remotely out of place and after it had been gifted to him he had trouble seeing it as anything other than a valued treasure. But looking at it as it was he had to agree it was quite shabby in appearance. The pages were yellowed edged in brown; the fabric cover worn and threadbare around the edges revealing the splitting cardboard underneath. There was a water line on the back and darkened spots on both sides indicated where fingers had frequently held it.
"A friend lent it to me." Jet replied.
"I wasn't aware you had any friends who would own anything so ragged." Arthur answered. "Might it have anything to do with those letters that have been coming and going from my house? Or had you thought I hadn't noticed?" He fixed his friend with an accusatory glare.
"It may be related." Jet allowed.
"Well, what is the book then?"
"The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I'd never heard of it before but the little I have read so far has not been particularly objectionable." Arthur walked over and plucked the book from his friend's hands and tossed it on the end table as though it were burning to the touch.
"Then there is no need to for you to read further of that particular piece of scandal."
"Why do you say that? Are you familiar with it?"
"I've never read it, mother made a point not to include such "literature" in my education, but I do know of it. It is a scathing screed against gentlemen such as ourselves; advocating that women should leave their husbands and steal their children away from their fathers and support themselves instead."
"That seems an odd thing for a man to write about - the author and narrator are both male."
"Aye, that's the trick of it! The author is actually a woman! You recall the infamous Bronte sisters?"
"I do, mother felt their work far too superstitious and that it overtly advocated an incorrect view of the role of women. Wasn't there that one novel that had a woman running her own company?"
"Yes, "Shirley" I believe. I only recall because it perverted the name from a perfectly acceptable men's name into a name given women to their daughters." Arthur replied with disgust.
"I cannot begin to express how strange I find it when I meet a woman by that name. So you are saying Acton Bell is a woman then?"
"I am saying she is one of those Bronte sisters." Jet let out a grunt of disgust. Arthur picked up the book and took it to the fireplace, dangling it tantalizingly over the hungry flames. "Shall we have done with it then?" he suggested. Before he knew what he was doing Jet reached out for it.
"No!" Jet cried. Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"No?" Jet collected himself.
"No. It's not my book to dispose of; but I believe I shall return it to my friend in the next post." Arthur shrugged and tossed it onto the seat next to Jet. He stood in front of the fire eyeing his friend.
"Come now, what is all this really about?" he entreated Jet. "You've been strange since the hotel. It's like some part of you has been lost and try as I might I can't seem to find it - as though you left it behind in London."
"I'm not especially at liberty to say." Jet attempted to deflect Arthur's concern with these words but only served, instead to fan the flames. Arthur took his place in the seat opposite Jet and fixed him with a very serious look.
"Jet, I want you to tell me truthfully: who gave you that book? Who have you been writing to?"
"You don't already know?"
"God man!" Arthur cursed. "You know me better than to think I would read another's mail! But I do have my suspicions." Jet looked into his friend's face, creased with concern, his resolve to secrecy dissolved as a snowflake on the skin.
"Her name's Bertie." he relented.
"So it is a woman. But why did you endeavor to hide her from us?"
"For two reasons, really. The first, for the sake of Miss Mason so that she would not feel she had been ill-used."
"That is understandable, I take it this has been going on for a while then?"
"A few months."
"And what is the second reason. Is she so far below your station?"
"No, she is the daughter of a Curate." Arthur burst out laughing.
"The daughter of a Curate!" Arthur exclaimed laughing. "Now how did you manage that match? Lord Chester Jenkins Moore III, the great skeptic! The consummate Atheist! To be paired with the daughter of a Curate. So tell me then: is she a convert to your cause or are you a pretender to piety?"
"Neither." Jet was somewhat incensed. "She is as devout in her beliefs as I and neither of us have made any attempt to hide our feelings on that subject." Arthur stopped laughing very suddenly.
"Neither of you has made any attempt to hide your feelings on the matter?" Arthur repeated for clarification.
"No." Jet answered sternly. Arthur rubbed his hands together, cracking his knuckles with some small exerted pressure.
"I believe I am beginning to see the issue quite clearly."
"I suspected you would."
"Her rank is less the trouble than her behavior." Arthur ventured. Jet nodded in confirmation. Arthur sighed as though steeling himself for the worst, "Tell me all." Jet took a deep, bracing breath.
"She and her father, and all her relatives, are members of the Salvation Army."
"Gah!" Arthur exclaimed. "A Salvationist! I can see why you chose to hide her."
"It gets worse." Jet continued shaking his head. "She is not only a member, as one would hope - merely associated through the pull of family - she holds rank, and a high one at that. She is a champion in the cause of reforming prostitutes and in securing the rights of men for women as well. She is willful and easily the most opinionated woman I have ever met." Arthur was incredulous.
"You can't be serious. Surely you can't be serious." Arthur implored his friend shaking his head.
"I know, and yet I am."
"Is there, at least, anything to recommend her?"
"Oh yes, she is charitable and diligent. She is kind, never base or vulgar, and morally unimpeachable. She is not especially accomplished, but she is well read with a quick mind. These traits may not wholly mitigate those habits that are distasteful; but I believe, with time and proper social encouragement, those habits may be encouraged to subside for more acceptable ones. And I love her; that alone must count for a great deal."
"I am beginning to understand your father's diatribe about the passions of youth leading to disaster." Arthur suggested. Jet could not help but smile at that remark.
"Yes, I agree he may have had a point in that matter."
"So where did you meet this fine specimen of femininity?"
"You recall that woman I assisted some months back?"
"Ah so it is her!" Arthur declared the revelation. "I knew there was something there!"
"Well, that makes one of us. For my part I truly never considered her an option. I suppose there was some... attachment - the same as one would feel for any wounded creature."
"Ah yes, but pity can grow into something much like love, when given the chance. It's a very dangerous thing to entangle yourself in. But you swore you had done with her?"
"I thought I had!" Jet protested. "But we had chance to meet again during my travels in town and when I was ill she and her family cared for me until I was well enough to leave for the Hotel - I suppose it was their way of repaying the debt. I cannot say I would have ever expected such a match for myself but I do hope you will support me in this endeavor." Arthur leveled his eyes to Jet's, when he spoke it was in solemn tones:
"There is a sizable distance between love and engagement and an even further one to marriage. I have not met the woman so I cannot speculate for certain; but given the circumstances you describe any man might be enticed to fall in love with a woman and certainly a gentleman such as yourself would be quite a fine insect to catch in that web. I don't say this to be ungenerous to you or the lady but because I am your friend and concerned for your welfare. I can only ask that you diligently check your feelings and question them frequently for authenticity. It would be a travesty if you were to marry a woman only to find your love was only a mutated form of pity and gratitude. Further, I know in your current state you will take offense to what I am about to suggest - recall, it is only out of love that I dare to venture it - but be wary for her feelings of love may be centered more around your money and position than your bodily form." Jet made to protest but Arthur raised his hand to stop his friend. "I know. I don't know her. And it is an insult to you that I should suggest your judgement be so clouded. I am perfectly willing to submit that you may be entirely correct in your assertion that both of you share genuine love for each other - but even the most genuine love may not be lasting. I cannot yet say that I will support you in this madness - I will need to become more familiar with the situation and the parties involved - but no matter what course you choose I will be your most stalwart friend and brother."
"So you choose to reserve your judgement?" Jet remarked.
"At least until after I have met the woman." Arthur answered. "Then you can count on being advised of it."
"I would expect nothing less."
Arthur reached into his coat pocket and procured that old, familiar flask. He took a swig.
"Fancy a nip?" Arthur offered shaking the bottle. Jet could hear the long missed sound of its contents swishing.
"No, thank you." he replied, raising his hand dismissively.
"Now I know there's something dreadfully amiss." Arthur eyed his friend suspiciously. "You've never, in you entire life, turned down a drop before. Is this the influence of your little lady? Has she ruined you to the point that I can scarcely recognize my own brother?"
"No. It's far worse than teetotling I'm afraid. Doctor's orders: he says my heart was damaged in the accident and forbade my continued indulgence."
"A Doctor ordered you to avoid taking medicine? That smacks of quackery." Arthur countered, incredulous.
"I do not deny the strangeness of it; all the same it is true and I can vouch that the man is well versed in his science."
"He could not have meant it as a permanent alteration of habit - merely just until you had recovered your strength - surely a few sips now and again could only be beneficial." Arthur argued.
"He seemed entirely adamant that I forever abstain..." Jet could feel his resolve wavering. He longed to taste that strange mix of sweetness that could never wholly conceal the bitter, to feel the calming sense of wellbeing once again.
"Come on, just a sip." Arthur dangled the flask tantalizingly in front of Jet, the liquid lapping noisily against the polished metal sides.
"Fine, just a sip to shut you up." he grabbed the flask from Arthur's grasp and took a quick swig. All at once that lovely liquid flavor filled his senses. His muscles, so tight from their unaided combat with the shadows of the past, began to release. He had dearly missed this!
"Better?" Arthur asked, reclaiming his property.
"Yes, thank you, Artie. I can always count on you."
The two men watched the fire burn in the hearth for some minutes before Arthur finally rose from his seat, stretched his arms behind his back, and walked over to the large window overlooking the yard. He stood, his weight shifted onto his left leg, his hands resting on his hips - against the darkening window he was a striking figure.
"The snow is beginning to pick up; I wonder that the ladies shouldn't be back by now - it's beginning to get dark."
"They must have decided to take the long way around the lake." Jet offered. Arthur turned his head to face his compatriot.
"Of course you are probably correct. Ah! I hear the bells now!" Arthur's brow furrowed as though he were trying to see something more clearly in the dying light. Without warning he suddenly rushed from the room. Jet was momentarily stunned by his friend's abrupt departure.
"Artie!" he called after him. "Artie what is it?" Jet sprang from his chair to the window and, squinting, suddenly saw with preternatural clarity a ghastly sight. The sleigh seemed badly bent, the splintering wood and leather of the harness hanging like strips of flesh on a skeletal arm. One of the runners was missing its front section. And there, trailing behind the sleigh body cutting a deep gash in the snow in its wake, was an oblong leathery form - the driver! The sleighbells hung limply from the horses, still jingling in the frigid wind. Jet recoiled from the window in horror. He flew from the room to the icy chill of the yard where he joined Arthur who was just standing up from next to the form of the driver.
"Artie?" he panted.
"Stay back, Jet." Arthur commanded, grabbing his friend. "The driver's dead - dragged - it's best if you don't see." Jet caught a glimpse of the man's grisly corpse over Arthur's shoulder. The man's dark suit and coat were torn to shreds, his limbs were oddly displayed and no longer holding to their proper proportions or shapes. An seemed to end in a point rather than a spatulate hand. But it was the face that was far too terrible to behold. The lips were gone leaving a skeleton grin in their stead, the nose pushed far above its place, flesh and mats of hair hung off the skull in patches. The head lay flat, far too close to the ground to hold its proper shape - without needing to lift it, Jet knew the back was missing. He felt a sudden thrill of terror down his spine. Where were Elizabeth and Ingrid? Already Arthur was a move ahead of him: "Hamish! Ready Dover and Bells!"
Jet and Arthur raced along the trail left by the sleigh. Jet gripped tightly to the great chestnut's neck as he plunged through a deep drift of snow behind the brilliantly white Dover which Arthur feverishly goaded forward into the forest. The horses took ground quickly with little regard for the snow. Suddenly Dover reared on his hind legs, Jet watched as Arthur dismounted the wayward animal in a single swift motion, deftly landing on the snowy ground. Jet pulled Bells back watching as Arthur raised a hand to signal Jet to dismount. Jet followed his friend slowly over a small bluff into a shallow basin spotted with trees. There he saw what had spooked the horse. Lying in the snow impaled upon a bright red metal skid part, its thick fur coated in ice, was a massive hound. Nearby, Jet could see where the sleigh had been dashed against a large ash tree. Pieces of brightly painted metal and wood littered the ground where it appeared the sleigh had overturned and been dragged. Still, he could see no sign of the ladies. Jet knelt to examine the dog.
"Don't!" Arthur ejaculated, reflexively reaching a hand out to stop Jet from the opposite side of the clearing. "Don't touch it!" he hissed. "It's mad." Sure enough, Jet looked to see a thick frozen foam encrusted around the cur's gaping maw. There was something else-
"Here!" Jet yelled, summoning Arthur to his side. "Footprints!"
"Good eye!" Arthur exclaimed. The two followed the tracks a short distance. "Look here!" Arthur called pointing to a deep depression in the snow. "It appears something was dragged away from here." The pair followed the path of the depression with their eyes to a small light upon a nearby hill. "Come on!" Arthur cried plunging ahead. The pair had not yet lost sight of the clearing when a Jet noticed small red droplets marking the path. The droplets grew into small streaks and then streams as they raced up the path. Jet could not speak it, he could not even allow himself to think it. They had traveled halfway up the hill to the light when the path stopped at a frozen crimson pool. Jet could see where the other person fell, the depression cut deep in the snow. And from it scrambling hand and footprints leading to what was revealed to be a small house. Other, larger footprints surrounded the pool and led up to the house. Arthur had plunged up the snow covered slope and to the door before Jet could will himself to move from that terrible spot. It was as if any further motion would reveal such horrible secrets as he could not begin to bear. He vaguely heard Arthur talking excitedly to the large, heavily bearded man at the door. It seemed the following hour passed in a haze, that he acted but had no recollection of that action: the horses, the snow, and finally the arrival at the nearby hospital were lost in the blackness of his mind. Arthur was behind the curtain, in an isolated makeshift room wherein Elizabeth lay. Not far, another curtained room held Ingrid. Lord Danvers stood beside Jet, unsuccessfully fighting the tears that rolled down his round cheeks and caught in his mustache. He lay his arm heavy across Jet's shoulders as the two men waited for the Doctor to emerge. Pulling back the curtain an aged man in a white coat appeared.
"The lady is able to see you now." he said. Lord Danvers almost knocked the physician over in his eagerness to enter; Jet offered a brief pardon for his friend while slipping in behind. There, sitting on the bed in her torn blue dress, alert and smiling brightly, was Ingrid - a thick bandage wrapped around her forearm and a few blooming bruises but otherwise not especially worse for the incident.
"Oh my dear Ingrid! I was afraid I had lost you!" Danvers cried rushing to embrace her, but the doctor halted him.
"Lord Danvers I would ask that you quell your enthusiasm for the moment. Her injuries, while not life threatening, are quite serious; she will need to be treated very gently until her ribs heal." The large man reconciled himself to hold her hand, stroking it tenderly.
"Ingrid, what happened out there?" Jet asked anxiously.
"Oh Chester, it was quite terrible!" she answered. "We were riding in the sleigh as merry as you please when the horses suddenly started. I saw, from the woods, came a large dog shambling down the slope. It was so big I took it for a bear initially! It walked in such a singular way: now shifting in one direction and then another and shaking its head and making the most unearthly throaty sounds. Then it saw us! Edgar, I have never been more frightened in my life!" She grasped Lord Danvers large hand in both of her tiny blue-tinted ones. "It growled very low and I saw foam dripping from its jowls. It ran towards us barking viciously - the horses reared and bolted. We slammed into a tree and the sleigh turned over. Elizabeth and I were thrown from it but the driver... I think he got caught by his leg and he went with it." Jet remembered vividly the blackened corpse of the man that trailed the sleigh. "Was he alright?" she asked. Jet cast his eyes downward, slowly shaking his head. "Oh."
"Please continue." Jet gently encouraged Ingrid.
"Yes. The horses dragged what was left of the sleigh away with the hound chasing close behind. I was very shaken from the fall but I knew I needed to find Elizabeth. I called for her as loudly as I dared for fear of attracting the attention of the cur and she answered me so very quietly I could scarcely hear. I was able to crawl over to her, she was so very pale and cold! I started to wrap my cloak around her when I heard that low menacing growl. Looking back the dog stood staring at us teeth bared. I suppose the horses outran him and he doubled back. He ran toward us barking. I saw a piece of the sled rail lying on the ground near us and grabbed it. I swung it at the beast but he only growled and lunged at us. I hit him with it as hard as I could and he was knocked down, but he arose and attacked again. I fought back as hard as I could and finally he jumped at me, I braced myself with the rail held out as a sword and the creature impaled himself upon it. I will remember its final whines in my nightmares forever, I believe."
"So how did you arrive at the house?"
"I returned to Elizabeth's side, she was whimpering in pain, there was blood spreading on her dress. I knew I needed to get help for her but I was too afraid to leave her alone with that... that thing, even if it was dead. Looking about I saw a light not too far off and a spire of smoke. I lay my cloak on the snow and pulled her onto it. I drug her up the hill. It was very arduous; she was crying so much! I looked at the path behind us and saw the bleeding had gotten far worse. I tried to console her, I could see the front door of the house from where we stood. Oh Chester - I cannot tell the rest of our journey, let it haunt only me until my dying day! When I got to the cabin the men came out to help: they carried Elizabeth to a coach to bring her to the hospital. I know nothing further than that. How is she?"
"She will recover in time. Arthur is with her now."
"And the baby?" Jet lowered his eyes.
"Oh Chester, I'm so very sorry." Ingrid said, her large blue eyes filling with tears.
"Ingrid, she is alive because of you."
"Gentlemen, I believe it would be best to allow the lady to rest for a while." the doctor corralled the men, expelling them from the curtained room. Once outside the curtain Lord Danvers addressed the doctor:
"How long before I can bring her home?"
"Lord Danvers, I did not want to upset you before you saw the Lady, but now I must inform you her situation is extremely grave." the physician answered somberly.
"What? How can this be? She appeared to be in quite good health considering her ordeal!" Danvers sputtered.
"And for the moment she is, but..." the man trailed off. Jet's heart sank, he knew the next words the man would say.
"The dog bit her, didn't it?" Jet asked. "That's what the bandage is for." The Doctor nodded in assent.
"Is there nothing we can do?" the large man pleaded, his eyes brimming.
"There is a treatment from France, it is still very new but it has proven to be effective." The Doctor continued. "I know of a Doctor in London who has the vaccine would be able to administer the dose but you must leave for London with all due haste."
"We'll travel through the night if we must." Lord Danvers answered.
"I will wire my friend to tell him of your coming." The doctor walked off in the opposite direction.
"I'm sorry, my lad, I hate to leave you at such a time..." Lord Danvers spoke with a worried quaver in his voice.
"It is alright Lord Danvers, please take good care of Miss Mason. I will never forgive you if I do not have the chance to dance with her at your wedding."
"You are a true friend, Lord Moore." Lord Danvers gratefully gripped Jet's hand so tightly as to bring water to the smaller man's eyes and left the room to make the necessary preparations. Jet sat himself in an uncomfortable wooden chair and waited, staring at the blank curtain that veiled Elizabeth from his sight. After what seemed an interminable length of time the curtain was pulled back and Arthur emerged; his face ashen, his hands shaking. Jet stood. His friend spoke not a word but walked straight to the door; Jet followed closely behind. The two men did not speak a word on the slow ride back to the Estate. When they arrived Arthur shut himself in the master bedroom. Jet took to the parlor, staring blankly out the window. It seemed he was watching his sister's entire life pass by him: that tiny soft little baby, the fluffy-headed blonde duckling that followed he and Arthur around the grounds, that moment when she came down the stairs in her first true gown and he was stunned to see a lovely young woman where she had only hours before been a child, watching as she and Arthur grew ever closer - that day six years past (had it truly been so long!) that he caught Arthur talking to Elizabeth under the elm tree by the lake; he the dashing rake and she the blushing innocent - his baby sister resplendent in her wedding dress, shedding tears of joy as she walked towards her captivated groom. Now she lay alone in that hospital; pale and broken. All that joy, that happiness of only a few hours ago, gone and in its place sorrow and anxiety. Jet spent most of the following day in the solitude of the once cheery parlor. He seemed to move without intention of action: one moment walking to the fireplace, abstractly prodding at it, walking away; picking up his book, staring blankly at the pages, and finally placing it back on the table. He took tea in the afternoon; by evening half the cup still remained as well as the majority of a sampled biscuit. He spent most of the time staring into empty space failing to hold captive a single fully formed thought. Dusk had settled before the door to the parlor clicked open. Jet turned from the window-
"Arthur!" he exclaimed. But the blackness of the man's physiognomy gave him to know further address would not be necessary. Arthur sat himself in the white and gold wingback chair next to Jet. The two men spoke no words. Jet watched as the reflection from the fire seemed to mingle the Arthur's, dancing in his intent eyes. A knock on the door broke the silence.
"Come." Arthur answered. The steward nervously opened the door.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Marshall?" Arthur replied never taking his eyes from the blackness of the ever encroaching night.
"What would you have us do with the sleigh? The damage is not so extensive. We could have it repaired if you wish."
"Burn it." Arthur ordered his eyes locked on the reflected flames. "Burn everything." With that he arose and strode from the room.