"Oh, I say!"
"Wow! Yeah, I'll say it, too," Tim agreed with Alfred's assessment.
"Hm," Bruce pursed his lips. He thought now they probably should have waited inside for Dick and Elle. Not that he was displeased by the show of affection; after all, the two of them likely thought they still had some modicum of privacy.
Alfred glanced at his elder charge. "I suppose that this is a promising sign."
Bruce's lips twitched at his butler's mastery of the sarcastic understatement. "Perhaps we should go back inside so as not to embarrass them."
Tim snorted. "I think we might have time to eat lunch considering that they have yet to come up for air."
"Master Timothy."
"What? It's true!" Tim shrugged. "If we're going to have to hold lunch for them, then I'm all for getting this party started right now."
Tim was moving before he finished speaking, bounding down the steps to the car. "Hey! Welcome home, big brother! C'mon, let the girl breathe, why don't you?" He smacked the top of the roof with the flat of his hand.
The two practically leapedt apart, startled by Tim's appearance. One could even detect the blush on Elle's face through the tinted windshield. She covered her face briefly with her hand, obviously mortified. Dick was frowning with rare displeasure at his brother.
"Tim," Bruce called, wanting to mitigate the damage. He didn't want this girl to feel uncomfortable here before she could walk through the front door. He was sort of hoping that she would become a regular fixture in his eldest son's life. "Leave them be."
Tim just smirked, and opened Elle's door. He offered his hand to her, gallantly. "My name is Tim, pretty lady. I'm the handsome one."
Bubbling laughter floated out of the car, and everyone present smiled in response to the infectious sound. It followed closely by Elle herself as she allowed Tim to hand her out. Her face was bright pink, but she didn't appear put out by their prying eyes. "I'm pleased to meet you," Elle smiled, gracious even to the source of her embarrassment.
Tim suddenly looked as though someone had struck him in the head with a two-by-four. He lost his tongue, and stood gaping at the young woman in front of him; his hand still holding hers.
Dick hopped out of the other side of the car with alacrity. He might be annoyed, but Elle's easy manner had gone a long way to dispelling it. He bumped his brother out of the way comically, and took Elle's arm in his as Tim nearly went sprawling.
"Hey," he yelped. Turning around, he glared at his brother. "I tell you what, Dick, I am sick of you having all the luck! I don't understand how you do it."
Dick smirked, and tucked Elle a little closer to his side. "That's just one of my pesky, little brothers," he teased.
"He doesn't look all that little to me," she commented. Tim was the same height as Dick. He looked to be in his mid to late teens, so he still had growing to do. 'Little' was obviously nothing but an honorary term.
"I was talking about his brain," Dick winked, to ease the sting of his joke.
Tim snorted. "Ha-ha," he said, sarcastically.
"Be a good little brother and fetch our bags out of the car, if you please," Dick told him.
Tim made a face, but turned to do what his brother had asked.
Dick led Elle toward the steps, and towards Bruce and Alfred. "Here is the most important person you are going to meet today," he said, stopping in front of the butler. "Elle, this is Alfred. He's Bruce's butler, chauffeur, maid, chef, nurse, etcetera, etcetera . . . And on top of all of that, he is a friend and a confidant, not to mention, family. Oh, and here's an important little hint: Alfred knows everything about anything in this house! Alfred, this is Miss Arabella Hamilton."
Alfred gave a short bow in greeting. "Miss Hamilton, it is a great pleasure. If you have a need while staying in this house, please do not hesitate to call upon me."
"Thank you, Alfred. Please, though, Miss Hamilton is too formal. You may call me Elle," she told him.
"Perhaps we might compromise. Would you mind if I called you Miss Arabella?"
Elle nodded. "Okay. Yes, that would be acceptable."
"And, of course, you remember this guy," Dick motioned in Bruce's direction.
Elle grinned. "Mr. Wayne . . . Oh, I mean, Bruce. Yes, of course. Thank you for opening your home to me. It is beautiful estate; what I have seen of it."
Bruce bowed gallantly over her hand, then stole Dick's place by her side; tucking her hand into his arm and leading her inside. "You are welcome, of course. Please, come inside. Alfred has a luncheon prepared for us. You both must be famished."
As Bruce led Elle into the manor, Dick helped Tim with the bags. Alfred paused by the door as the boys moved to pass him. He stopped them.
"An uncomfortable topic, perhaps," he began. Especially after what they had just witnessed, he thought. "But I was unsure as to where to put the young Miss. I prepared the room next to yours, however, just in case."
Dick felt his face heat. "The room next to mine is great, Alfred. Thanks."
Their relationship hadn't progressed that far. Elle was still an innocent, he was positive, despite the passion in their kisses and embraces. He hadn't really planned that far in advance, and thought it would be best to take it slow and easy. He would let Elle call the shots in this area. Besides, Dick didn't really want their first time, whenever it came, to be at the manor. Talk about awkward . . .
Alfred looked pleased with that information, causing Dick another blush. "Very good, sir. Don't linger, for I will be serving lunch momentarily."
Come on, Timmy," Dick carried Elle's two bags, and Tim carried Dick's one small bag. He didn't really need much since he kept clothes here, and Alfred always made sure his bathroom had all the toiletries stocked.
Lunch was a festive affair despite the initial awkwardness. While Elle didn't volunteer much in the way of information, she would answer questions. Only once did Dick catch her smoothly changing the subject when the topic became one she didn't want to talk about. If he hadn't been watching for it, he might not have noticed it, so expertly did she do it. Conversation flowed like the lemonade that Alfred served with their meal.
"You said that you were from Chicago," Bruce began.
Elle was already ahead of him. "Yes, I am related to Cedric and Aidan Hamilton of Hamilton Industries out of Chicago; my father and my brother, respectively."
Bruce smiled. "You must get asked that a lot, I take it?
Elle shrugged delicately. "Occasionally."
"I don't believe I've had the opportunity to meet either man," Bruce commented. "Amazingly enough, our business interests have never managed to align as yet."
"Poppa has said much the same thing," Elle agreed. "I believe he would love to work with Wayne Enterprises on a project, but nothing has ever come up. Whatever business interests you might have in common, you have both been going in different directions at any given time."
"Are you very involved in the family business," he asked.
Elle shook her head, her cheeks pinking slightly. "No, my talents and interests do not lie in the family business."
"Speaking of talents," Bruce said, "yours is amazing! I am surprised that no recording company has snatched you up."
Elle's eyes met Dick's. Smiling, she admitted, "The Halloween party tonight is hosted by Starburst Recording Studios here in Gotham. Promising local talent as well as big name celebrities will be there by invitation only. They will provide all the entertainment tonight; performing alone and together in impromptu jam sessions for the record producers and the other guests."
"Jam sessions," Tim asked, curious. "What are jam sessions?"
"Are you kidding me? You've never heard of the term, Tim," Dick asked, surprised.
He shrugged. "My interests aren't musical in nature. I like good music, sure," he added, not wanting to offend his brother's new girlfriend. He kind of liked her. "But, it isn't the most important thing in my life. I guess I just never paid that much attention."
Elle explained. "Jam sessions are when a group of musicians get together to play or sing. There is little to no practice involved. There are always a few that have never worked together at all, so there is opportunity for magic to happen. While it is a lot of fun, it's also a way of networking within the business."
"And you've received an invitation after only a few months? That's quite an accomplishment and a testament to your talent. I'm certain that you will blow them all away," Bruce assured her.
Elle beamed at him. "Why thank you, Bruce. That is a lovely compliment."
Bruce blinked a few times, and then ducked his head pretending to concentrate on finishing his dessert for a moment. The girl simply shone at times, and in a way that was reminiscent of the way Dick could; the way Bruce had observed him doing when Elle was around. He had noticed and worried about the way the darkness had seemed to be creeping up on his eldest child, partly because of his line of work, and partly because, Bruce thought, of his unhappiness in his personal life. But Elle, he noted, was capable of pushing back his son's darkness. Something for which he was most grateful.
Dick tilted his head at her. "But you are going to perform in costume? How will those producers know who you are?"
"We have been assigned numbers with our invitations. If the producers like you, they will mark your number, and you will be contacted later by the studio for a private demo," Elle told him.
"It's almost time for Damian to come home," Dick announced, earning a groan from Tim. They had been talking for over an hour.
"Damian is your youngest brother," Elle asked, for clarity.
"Yes. But . . . Um, he's not your typical eleven year old," Dick felt the need to give her a warning.
"Dick Grayson: Master of the Understatement," Tim crowed.
"Tim," Bruce warned.
Tim scoffed. "Whatever, Bruce. It isn't like she's not going to find out within the first two minutes that he walks through the front door."
Elle glanced at the three men, uncertain. Her curiosity was sparked. It was only then that she noticed that Alfred had been missing for the last hour that the four of them lingered through dessert and coffee. He must have gone to pick up Damian from school. She peeked at her watch, as unobtrusively as possible; ten minutes until two o'clock.
Damian dragged his feet. Normally, he was anxious to see Grayson; excited that he was planning to spend the weekend at the house. But this time, his time wouldn't be for his little brother. This time, it would be for some girl!
Not that Damian needed Grayson's attention! Damian didn't need anyone, but it was less than terrible when the two of them could spar together. Grayson's acrobatics made him a decent opponent, challenging Damian's reflexes and speed in order to land a blow. And having him on patrol always seemed to make the night more interesting . . . Except that this time, Grayson wouldn't be sparring or going on patrol with them because of her!
"Come along, Master Damian," Pennyworth attempted to spur his youngest charge to move faster. "Master Richard has someone he wants you to meet."
"Maybe I don't want to meet anyone," Damian mumbled, under his breath.
"What was that," Pennyworth looked back at him from the top step.
"Nothing," he muttered.
"I don't think I need to remind you that mumbling is considered to be rude, young sir," Pennyworth advised him. "The young woman is waiting. Polishing up your best manners would be appreciated."
Damian kept his mouth shut. What was that saying that Pennyworth had told him not long after he came to stay with Father? If you haven't anything good to say, don't say anything at all?
What was wrong with these people? Hadn't Grayson learned his lesson with Gordon? Father had seen the results of that when Gordon had foolishly turned her back on Grayson. Damian had overheard his quiet conversation with Pennyworth on the matter. Why would Father be encouraging this behavior? It would only be a matter of time before this girl dumped his brother, too! Then maybe he would learn his lesson and stop wasting his time with silly females, and start spending it with the people who actually matter . . . Like him!
"I think I should go straight to my room, Pennyworth," he said. "I-I have lots of homework this weekend to attend to. I have to write a report on the . . . uh, the mating rituals of . . ." Damian's eyes darted around for inspiration. There! A rodent was sitting on the stone railing nibbling on some seed he had found. "The North American ground squirrel," he finished triumphant.
He raised his eyes to find Pennyworth staring at him with one quirked eyebrow. Damian huffed in frustration. The butler seemed hardly impressed, and not entirely convinced. He readjusted his backpack over his shoulder and trudged to the door.
He hadn't stepped more than a few feet into the foyer than he was converged on. Apparently the lot of his family had been in the process of making their way into the living room when he had entered. There would be no escaping to his room unannounced now.
"Dami!" Grayson walked over to him, grinning from ear to ear; a bounce in his step that hadn't been there just a month ago.
When Grayson didn't stop at a reasonable distance, Damian realized that he was in danger of receiving a hug. He backpedaled until he bumped into Pennyworth who had entered right behind him.
"Stop," Damian yelled, holding up his hand and causing Grayson to skid to a halt just a foot in front of him. "Grayson, must you insist upon these ridiculous displays of physical affection whenever you come to visit?"
The flash of hurt in those bright, blue eyes made Damian stomach clench in shame. His mouth tightened. He glanced over Grayson's shoulder to avoid the pain he had evoked, and found himself looking directly at the cause of his bad behavior. She was looking at him with a slight smile and a curious expression. It was clear that she was hopeful of getting the opportunity to know him. Well, it was never going to happen!
He scowled at her, in warning; to let her know that he wasn't fooled by her act. She was here to create a rift in his world; to destroy the fragile place he had found for himself. She was going to take Grayson away from him, and nothing would ever be the same again!
"That was your fault," he snarled at her.
She looked a little startled by his words. Good! Maybe she would go home now! B-but she would likely take Grayson with her when she went . . .
"Damian!" Father barked.
"Master Damian!" Pennyworth exclaimed.
To make matters worse, Drake stood behind her, his expression unsurprised. He shook his head sadly.
It was already starting! She hadn't said a word yet, and already his place in the world was crumbling around him. "This is all your fault! Why did you have to ruin everything," he yelled at her.
Damian darted around everyone, dodging hands. Father caught his backpack as he went by, but Damian shrugged it off and took the stairs at a run.
Dick turned to Elle, certain he would have to ease hurt feelings, but she was watching Damian's retreat with an unreadable expression on her face. Sympathetic, maybe, but something else . . . The wheels were turning, and he found himself wondering what it was she was thinking about.
"I apologize for the boy," Bruce was saying. "I'm not sure what came over him." He looked at Alfred. "Did something happen at school?"
Alfred raised a shoulder, baffled. "Not to my knowledge, sir. He seemed to become more and more withdrawn the closer we got to home."
"It's all right," Elle interrupted. "He didn't hurt my feelings. Just leave him be. He'll calm down, and we'll be best friends before you know it." At their incredulous expressions, she smiled. "Well, maybe not on this visit . . ." she admitted, sheepishly.
Bruce was shaking his head. "His behavior was inexcusable."
"Perhaps, but it was understandable," Elle shrugged. At the circle of startled expressions, she explained. "I'm the interloper. He sees me as a threat to his perfectly structured world. Forcing him to be nice to me will likely embed those feelings more deeply. Just let him be. We'll either work things out ourselves in our own time, or his world will eventually right itself on its own."
"You've taken psychology?" It was a question and yet it wasn't.
"Well, yes," Elle's lips quirked. "But I was going more on instinct. It's amazing what kids will see as a threat to their world, and an impediment to their happiness. Either way, it's okay. I'm not so fragile that the anger management issues of an eleven year old will break me."
The four men exchanged looks. They hoped that the anger management issues of this particular eleven year old wouldn't break her.
"Maybe I should go talk to him," Dick suggested.
Elle smiled. "That would be a great idea. I got the impression that he was worried about you not having time for him anymore. I would never want to get between you and your family. He should know that."
At that moment, Dick thought that he might have fallen even farther into love than he already had with this woman. His head was still telling him that it was too soon; but his heart . . . His heart knew the first time she had walked out on stage to sing.
He didn't know if she felt the same way or not . . . not for certain, anyway. But there was this something that he saw in her eyes when she looked at him that made him feel on top of the world, and he knew he would always feel this way for as long as she continued to look at him in just that way.
Elle watched Dick follow the path of his youngest brother, and allowed herself to feel hopeful. She knew that accepting Dick meant accepting his family and all of their quirks and skeletons. Her grandmother told her this. What is important to him must become important to you, she said . . . and vice-versa. If that doesn't work, then nothing else will.
There will be another chapter posted before one on Saturday afternoon (12/13/2014). Are you curious as to what costume Elle brought for Dick to wear for the party?