Chapter Twelve:
The Lady, Bonding
"On that certain day in August, everything changed."
Countryside, England, United Kingdom ‒ August 1840
I woke up with a start, my lungs burning horribly. Uncontrollably, silent tears were rolling down my cheeks and my body felt numb ‒ it was like I was slowly dying inside.
I didn't notice the maids and butlers and other servants going in and out of my room ‒ panicking, and alarming everyone. Someone touched me, but I barely felt it. Someone spoke to me, but I couldn't make out the words. Like I wasn't actually part of this world anymore.
I spent some awful days ‒ I did not know how many exactly – in bed, seeing the same scene over and over again in front of my inner eyes without actually capturing it. I was there, but I had no clue what it was about. I was suffering because of it although I actually knew nothing about it.
I saw it and didn't really see it at once.
I was trapped inside something I had forgotten, but not entirely.
And then, after some days, I woke up and could see.
The sun was shining through my curtains, the ceiling was dark, and I could finally see again.
It took me a while until I noticed Barrington sitting on a chair next to my bed. But when I did, I weakly raised an arm and waved at him. "Hi, Barrington, I'm back again."
Sir Barrington Weaselton's eyes widened when he saw Cloudia Phantomhive waving at him. "Dia!" he yelled, standing up so suddenly that his chair fell down.
Cloudia grimaced. "Ow. That hurt in my ears. Can't you be quieter?"
With a smile, the first one to find its way on his lips in days, and tears glittering in his eyes, Barrington carefully sat her up in her bed, so he could give her a bone-crushing hug.
"Goddammit, Cloudia. You could have warned me," he mumbled inside her hair. "Can you even imagine the pain I had been going through during the last days?"
A sudden wave of guilt swept over her. "Sorry, Barrington," she murmured.
He pulled her even closer to him, although she had thought that wouldn't be possible. "It's okay, Dia. It's okay."
Barrington stopped hugging her, and instead started holding her at arm's length to examine her. "It's okay, Little One. All that matters now is that you're alright again." He smiled again and lovingly patted her head. "But you could still have told me though. It was quite a mess when Old Ted had to tell me it after I woke up. I had no clue." He gently pinched her cheek. "Hid some secrets from me, didn't you, Dee?"
Cloudia involuntarily chuckled. "Well... my attacks stopped being regular or frequent years ago now. They never truly vanished, but they just became rarer and rarer with every passing year. I had some little attacks in the past years though ‒ after you started being my teacher. But you have never been around when I had them, so I had no reason to tell you." She shrugged.
He shook his head. "Just like your dear papa." Barrington patted her again. "You didn't eat or drink properly in what felt like ages now, Dia! I'll go and make you a cup of your beloved hot milk with honey."
Cloudia frowned. "You'll go and make it? You're sure that you don't want to ask Clifford or the cook or anybody else to make it?"
"I'm absolutely certain," he replied. "I'm 100 % serious. I will go and make you this cup of milk and honey all on my own! Even if this means that I will have to burn half of the kitchen away!"
She sighed. "I will only allow it if you're also 100 % serious about not destroying any part of my manor."
"It's still not your manor, Little One."
"But it will be in a few years, and I want to make sure that I will be able to claim it in one piece."
Barrington laughed loudly. "I will try, my little lady." He stood up and left Cloudia's bedroom.
As soon as he was gone, she let herself fall onto her pillows again. Her head and body still hurt even though she was back in this world. Technically, she had never left ‒ but it had felt like she had.
Just a bit of sunlight from outside found its way through the thick curtains which hung in front of her bedroom's windows. Just now, Cloudia realised that she hadn't seen the sunlight for what felt like days. How long had she been gone anyway? She didn't know.
She crawled out from underneath her blankets and walked towards a window. Her feet were bare and if there wasn't a carpet all over the floor, she would have surely frozen.
Cloudia pulled back the curtains and let sunlight flow through her room and shine onto her face. It was a sunny day and the sky was clear. Judging from the level of the sun, it was around midday now. The moment, she opened the windows to get some fresh air, a falcon flew through her window, surprising her.
The falcon landed on the windowsill and looked at her with his dark eyes. He clearly wasn't an ordinary falcon as he had something attached on his back. She had heard of messenger pigeons, and the Phantomhive family itself had a messenger owl, but she hadn't known of messenger falcons.
Apparently, I needed to read even more books.
Fairly, it would cause a vein of Agatha's to explode. What a mess it could cause! But for books, I would do everything.
Cloudia opened the little bag on the back of the falcon and took out an elegant envelope. She had seen the seal on it before, so she immediately knew that this letter was of great importance. Another indicator that it was was the fact that it had been sent to her by a falcon ‒ and not per a servant or per post.
Or was it just because no one but her should see the letter?
She opened the envelope and started reading the letter inside.
Dear Lady Cloudia Phantomhive,
it may be late and hurried ‒ pardon me, my child! –, but due to the unfortunate and soon ending of our last meeting, I would like to invite you to a tea party, so we can talk about everything we could not speak of at my wedding.
The tea party will be held on August 23 at two o'clock in the afternoon at Buckingham Palace. Formal attire will not be necessary as it will be just the two us attending. However, it is advised to come in your Sunday best.
I greatly hope that even though the rushed circumstances, you will find time to arrange everything and meet me on August 23. I will look forward to it.
Her Majesty, Queen Victoria
PS: I advise you against telling Sir Barrington or anyone else about our upcoming meeting to avoid another "undesirable factor" if it can be called as such.
Heat rose in her face, especially her cheeks, and she must have looked like an overripe tomato when she had finished reading the letter.
I had been invited by the Queen for tea!
Hastily, Cloudia fetched a piece of her stationery and started writing an answer to the Queen.
Your Majesty,
it is more than just a simple honour to be invited by you to a tea party, and I will hereby gratefully accept.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Cloudia Phantomhive
When she was done writing and properly sealing the envelope with her signet ring, Cloudia put her answer into the falcon's bag. "You can go now, little falcon," she said, closing the bag. "Fly to your owner and deliver my message." As if he had understood her, he slightly tilted his head and flew out of the window. The instance the falcon was gone, Barrington returned and Cloudia quickly hid the Queen's letter in one of the pockets of her nightgown.
"Oh, what are you doing there by the window, Dia?" he asked her, putting the cup with hot milk on Cloudia's bedside cabinet.
"Just getting a bit of fresh air," she answered him quickly but not too quickly. Otherwise, he could suspect anything. And surely, she didn't want him to find out about the Queen's surprise letter. It was her little secret after all.
"I didn't get much of it in the last couple of days after all."
Barrington nodded. "I see." A bright smile appeared on his lips. "Want to try out the hot milk I made you?"
Cloudia chuckled. "Be honest ‒ does the kitchen need a renovation?"
He put his hands in the air. "Honestly, Dia, the cook may have made a fuss, but otherwise nothing happened down there."
"You really didn't blow anything up?"
"Don't you trust me, Little Phantomhive girl?" He sat down on her bed.
She giggled and he grinned. "Okay, okay, Barrington, I will try the milk. But if I fall down dead, you know that you will have to go the Queen and explain why she needs to find a brand-new family to make them the Royal family's personal murderers."
Barrington's gaze darkened as he watched Cloudia head towards the cup, lift it and take a sip of the milk; she ignored it.
"Ugh," she said, putting the cup down. "It's lukewarm. How did that happen?"
"Well... I was afraid that I could trip and spill the milk all over the floor, so I was super careful while carrying the cup upstairs. And perhaps I was a bit slow because of it."
She sighed. "That's not even the only flaw. The milk's not only lukewarm, but you also put far too much honey in it. I think I will get cavities just from this tiny sip I took. Are you sure you weren't late because you had to raid a sugar factory and steal a billion pounds of sugar to pour into the milk first?"
Barrington shrugged. "I didn't know how much honey I had to put in. But at least I didn't blow anything up. Isn't that great, Deedee?"
Cloudia giggled again and went to hug him. "Only if you promise me to never call me 'Deedee' again."
He laughed and hugged her back. "I promise."
"Even though the milk was terrible...," she mumbled sheepishly against his chest. "... thanks for making it."
Barrington's grin widened as he pulled her closer. "You're welcome, Dia."
Marvelous!
A carriage will be waiting to escort you to Buckingham Palace at the Government School of Design at half past one.
Queen Victoria
A day after the falcon had come through a window of Cloudia's bedroom, he came again ‒ this time with a small note from the Queen. Excited, Cloudia had written a note stating that she had understood and would stand accurately in front of the Government School of Design at 13:30.
As soon as the falcon was gone and on his way back to Buckingham Palace, Cloudia's brain worked on an excuse for her going to Somerset House on Sunday, August 23. She had never visited Somerset House before and without a reasonable excuse, Barrington would get suspicious ‒ and this potential suspicion may or may not make him think that Queen Victoria had something to do with Cloudia's strange behaviour.
But what if she just picked a place somewhere close to Somerset House, and not Somerset House itself? If it were a place she had already gone to and had liked, it wouldn't seem suspicious if she decided to go there again.
Hm... Somerset House was located in Central London... and Central London was the core of Inner London...
Westminster, where Buckingham Palace was, was in Inner London, so was...
Kensington.
A bright smile formed on Cloudia's lips when epiphany kissed her. There was one place in Kensington, North Kensington to be exact, where she liked to go, and which she visited as often as she could. She could go and ask Barrington if she could go there. But what made this place absolutely perfect for her purpose was the fact that she could even ask Barrington if she could go there on her own without raising any suspicions.
This place was perhaps the only place in the entire world I had free access to.
And Barrington never denied me my wish to go there.
I could dance around in utter joy!
As it took a few hours to get to London from the Phantomhive Manor, I said goodbye to Barrington at eight o'clock. He hugged me and told me to be careful before he let me go to London all on my own ‒ only accompanied by the coachman and a footman. They were just my escorts: They would bring me there and pick me up at eight o'clock in the evening. While I was busy with my little visit ‒ and my secret, bigger visit with the Queen, although I wouldn't say that me visiting him was of no importance to me –, they would go and walk around the town, making a few errands for the household here and there.
Today, I wore a simple light brown dress, white knee-high stockings and dull black shoes. Also, I had thrown on a dark brown cloak. Of course, I wouldn't face the Queen in this more or less shabby outfit, but it wouldn't be good if anyone recognised me as a daughter of the upper class while being in North Kensington. I always dressed up like that when I visited him. But then it only helped a bit as I was too pale and delicate to fully melt into the crowd of poorer people. However, he also was quite delicate and pale, and he lived there all on his own.
I was driven in the simplest and most unremarkable carriage of the Phantomhive family to London, and after half an hour, I cursed myself because I completely forgot to bring a book with me. Poor, poor Nicholas Nickleby was laying on my bedside cabinet all alone now. I would have to comfort him in the evening.
Sighing, I leaned back and nearly bored myself to death until we finally arrived.
Dear, dear, Cloudia Phantomhive. You really had to rethink your plans more often.
Around two awful hours later, we finally arrived. I hopped out of the carriage, taking my valise with me, and not waiting until the footman opened the door for me. I waved them goodbye and wished them a happy shopping day. I stood by the street until they were gone, then I turned around on my heels and flounced through the door of the Sainteclare Bookstore.
It was Sunday, and even though the bookstore was closed, its owner was still as busy and diligent as always. Two days ago, Cloudia had sent him a letter in which she had announced her visit, and still he hadn't been able to stop himself from sorting new books, putting old ones to their right places and calculating this week's earnings.
Surely, Kamden Sainteclare would never change.
He looked up when she entered the bookstore, and he stopped putting back books. Instead, he walked towards her, his big blue eyes shining faintly in his pale face which was framed with wild raven locks. "Go-good mor... morning, Clou-Cloudia."
Cloudia smiled at him.
"He looked like me."
That had been my very first thought when I had met Kamden. We both had thick black hair, big blue eyes, ivory skin and high cheekbones. It had highly irritated me when I had stepped into the Sainteclare Bookstore for the first time and saw him ‒ Kamden Sainteclare, my male mirror.
My mother and her three sisters had vowed as young girls to give their children all names beginning with a "C." I mostly had female cousins, but I had only one male one whose name started with a "K" ‒ the letter closest to a "C."
This had been the first thing what had come to my mind, when I had first heard Kamden's name and asked him about the spelling of it. And the second thing had been that the spelling of his name was as weird as mine. My name was spelled "Cloudia" rather than "Claudia," and his name was written as "Kamden" rather than "Camden."
We were both born on April 5, 1830, but he was a few minutes my senior. He was an orphan ‒ found as an infant in St. Lacey, the little village closest to Phantomhive Manor, by the Sainteclares.
Kamden was tall and slim ‒ just like me. He loved books ‒ just like me. He didn't like crowds ‒ just like me. We had so much in common, and still there were a few things which made us different. For example, while being well-mannered, highly intelligent and having an extraordinarily far-fetching vocabulary from reading dictionaries all the time, Kamden had a terrible stutter. I, however, had never once tripped over my own words.
Also, Kamden was shy and insecure ‒ both things I was not.
But he understood things far quicker than I did, and he had read much more books than I had from growing up in a bookstore, while my Watchdog training swallowed up a lot of time I could have spent reading. Thus, his knowledge of the world and everything existing was far greater than mine.
We were the same, and at the same time, we were not.
Encountering such a person, had taken my interest. How in the world could such a person exist without me knowing about it? Without him knowing about me?
And when Barrington had innocently remarked that Kamden's messy hair reminded him of the messy hair of my father's, and even his character reminded him of his late best friend, I had almost been about to bet my entire future fortune on the assumption that Kamden was no one else but my long-lost twin.
Good that I hadn't done it, because we weren't twins.
Kamden was not my friend ‒ he was so much more than that. He may not be my real twin, but he surely was my mirror.
He was my Almost Twin.
And I loved him endlessly because of it.
"Good morning, Kamden." Cloudia walked towards him and gave him a small hug. Kamden did not like being touched by others, but while he was fine being touched by Cloudia, she still refrained from giving him bone-crushing hugs.
"I am happy to see you again, Kammie," she said after stepping away from him.
"Me... me too, Clou-Cloudie," Kamden returned and took one of her hands.
People kept saying that meeting your doppelgänger meant bad luck, in Breton as well as in Cornish and Norman French folklore doppelgängers were even versions of Ankou, one of many personifications of death ‒ but to me, meeting Kamden was one of the best things which ever happened to me.
Cloudia smiled and dragged him towards the pile of books he had been sorting right before she had entered the store. Silently, she started putting the books to their right places and although Kamden promptly protested, saying that she shouldn't do that, they were soon sorting books together without a little word escaping their mouths.
Kamden was braver than he thought he was ‒ after all, he lived in North Kensington all by his own. And he was only a few minutes older than me. Several times, I had invited him to live with me at the manor, but he had always refused.
As I had been anxious about his well-being in North Kensington and because Barrington had also grown to like Kamden a lot, he had promptly taken him as his ward. However, as Kamden was just as stubborn as I was, he just kept refusing to leave the bookstore, even though Barrington had told him that it wouldn't just vanish if he stopped living there. At least, as Kamden was Barrington's ward now, nobody would ever dare laying a finger on him. Barrington may not be the Head of the British Knights anymore, but he had been it for a very long time and he was still feared. His connection to the previous Watchdog was just a bonus.
Also, I was still there. And I was ready to chomp off the heads of everyone who dared hurting my Almost Twin.
But him living in North Kensington all on his own was not the sole reason why I thought he was braver than I would ever be. With his terrible stutter he had to struggle talking to vendors or even saying a simple "hello." He had to worry about all these little things most people did without batting an eye. Still, Kamden faced every day anew ‒ trying to prove that he was more than his stutter. That he was brave enough to continue to face the world of speak even with his stutter. That stuttering didn't make him less amazing than he was.
When they finished sorting the new and old books, Kamden boiled up water and made them a can of tea. And while they were sitting at the small table in Kamden's little kitchen, Cloudia took a deep breath.
He's my Almost Twin. He would definitely help me.
Or not?
"Kamden," she started and he looked up from his cup, his big blue eyes shining darkly in the dim light.
I wondered if my eyes looked just the same right now.
"Can you do me a favour?"
He cleared his throat. "Whaaaat ki-ki... kind of fa-favour?"
Now or never, Cloudia!
"I got an invitation from the Queen," Cloudia told him and Kamden's eyes widened. "The-the Queen?"
She nodded. "She invited me to come to Buckingham Palace for tea, but nobody should know. Neither Barrington nor anyone else except me. But I told you because I need you as my alibi.
"Because Barrington should not know about this meeting, I had to find a way to get to London without him becoming suspicious. And because a carriage will await me at Somerset House to pick me up and escort me to Buckingham Palace, I said to him that I would visit you as you live only one hour and around fifty minutes away from Somerset House. Sorry for using you like this, Kam. I swear that I will never do this again.
"The tea party starts at two o'clock, and the carriage will be awaiting me at half past one, so I need to head to Somerset House around two hours earlier. But because nobody can know that I'm actually there and not here, I need you. You need to promise me that you will never tell anyone about my meeting with the Queen today. Never in your entire life."
Cloudia looked at him, and Kamden kept staring at her before he hesitantly extended his arm and took her hand. He usually didn't touch her, so this was quite odd for him.
"Whe-When wiiill you be... be ba-back?" he asked to Cloudia's surprise.
"I am not sure," she answered him honestly. "But I guess I wouldn't return later than five o'clock."
Kamden nodded and took a deep breath. "Wi-Will you... Will you be al... alright aaaalone?"
Her gaze softened.
Oh, Kamden.
Cloudia squeezed his hand. "I will. I promise you that I will be alright, Kammie. You don't need to worry about me. Nobody will hurt me there."
He nodded again. "Can... can you... Dooo you fe-feel li-like wan-wanting to go to Som-Somerset Hou... House alone?"
She smiled at him. "It's okay, Kam. You don't need to accompany me. I will be alright."
In the valise, I had taken with me, were spare clothes and a few little daggers I had secretly snatched from the weapon's room when nobody was around. I guess, I would be fine.
They didn't say anything for a while ‒ just sat in silence by the table, holding each others hands.
We may not be real twins, we weren't even blood-related at all, but somehow, we still worked like we were.
At eleven o'clock, I took my valise and vanished into Kamden's bathroom ‒ after asking him of course ‒ to get changed.
I switched the light brown dress with a light summer dress in the colour of the sky with lace on the rims, around my waist and the neckline, which I had chosen for the Queen's little tea party.
This morning I had ordered Jonalyn to make me a simple ponytail ‒ not only because it was part of my disguise, but also because asking Jonalyn for things which required flair was like asking a dog to wash the dishes: They just weren't suitable for these kind of tasks.
Good thing, I knew how to get dressed and do my hair all by myself.
I braided a few forget-me-nots into my hair and pinned it up a bit before I hid the daggers underneath and in my clothing. I hoped that my elegant but simple outfit and hair-do would be appropriate for the Queen's exclusive tea party. She had told me to come in my "Sunday's best" after all, but who could know what exactly she meant by that?
I just hoped that I neither under-dressed nor overdressed myself on accident. That would be fatal.
I was to be Her Majesty's Watchdog in six years ‒ I simply couldn't allow me a modish faux pas.
Before I put my disguise clothes in the valise and left the bathroom to return to Kamden, I looked into the tiny mirror which hung at one wall in the bathroom.
I took a deep breath and told myself in my mind: "You are Lady Cloudia Phantomhive, the future Countess of Phantomhive and Watchdog of the Queen. You will be the first female to hold the title in your own right, and the first one to ever become the Watchdog.
"Only the Queen is more powerful than you.
"You will not fail. You will not be a disgrace. Neither to the Phantomhive name nor to all the previous Watchdogs. You can do this."
I took another deep breath and locked my gaze with the me in the mirror.
"I can do this."
After Cloudia had put her valise in a corner, so it wouldn't bother anyone, she went back to the area of the actual bookstore. And, of course, Kamden had resumed working although she hadn't been gone for long.
"Kamden," she said and he looked up from his paper work immediately. She walked towards him and took his hand. "I have to go now." She squeezed it gently. "I will be back at approximately five o'clock, perhaps even earlier. Don't worry about me, I will be fine. I promise."
She smiled at him and let go of his hand.
"Ta-Take ca... care, Clou-Cloudie," Kamden told her when she grabbed her cloak and put it on, so it would cover her "upper class gown."
Cloudia presented him another bright and loving smile. "I will. Make sure that the door's locked while I'm gone." She waved him goodbye and left the bookstore.
I had never walked alone through the town before.
I had always been with Barrington, or one of my cousins with their maids or parents. And if I traveled to London on my own, just like today, I would only drive in the carriage and spend the rest of the time by the person I was visiting. So, I had never really been alone in London before.
But now I was ‒ and it was amazing.
There were so many people around! I even walked past some market stalls selling wonderful things, and I had to fight the urge to stop and examine every single thing they offered. To buy something for my cousins, for Barrington, for Kamden, my aunts, my uncles and me. For my mother. And when I saw a stall selling enormously beautiful flowers, the kind you could see as little paintings in books, the thought of buying a few of these beauties and putting them on my late father's grave crossed my mind.
The moment this thought came to my mind, I was suddenly reminded that I hadn't visited him in what felt like ages. The last time had been roughly a year ago after I had won a tournament. In the finale, I had to face a fairly strong opponent, so I had been even happier when I had won. Barrington had accompanied me, but had stayed in the background while I had told Father everything about it.
When I was back home after the Queen's tea party, I had to go and report it to Father.
After all, I may not be allowed to tell anyone about it, but dead men renownedly told no tales.
I continued walking, fighting not to get distracted by the beauty of London, and arrived at Somerset House a few minutes before half past one. I greeted the coachman who had been sent to pick me up before he helped me climb into the carriage which was made of polished dark wood with fine engravings ‒ beautiful, but not extravagant or sensational.
As soon as I was seated inside the carriage, the coachman started driving towards Buckingham Palace. I took off my brown cloak, hoping that I could leave it in the carriage or that a footman would come and take it from me before I met the Queen. My cloak was the only thing which fairly wasn't appropriate for a tea party with the Queen. I simply hoped that she wouldn't see me in it.
I had seen Buckingham Palace before, but I was still amazed by its beauty when we finally arrived and drove through the gates. The coachman helped me out of the carriage like a true gentleman and I smiled at him warmly. The Queen's butlers, a maid and a footman arrived and greeted me, telling the coachman that he was dismissed now. Then, to my relief, the footman took my cloak and vanished. I couldn't ask the butlers where he had run off with my cloak as they had already started to lead me to the drawing room.
I caught my heart beating a little bit faster with every step which brought me closer to the parlour.
Guards stood right and left to the huge door to the parlour and opened it when we approached. And as we were let into the drawing room, my eyes widened.
It was incredibly beautiful.
On the ground laid a large red carpet with wonderful flower patterns on it. Four large glass chandeliers hung from the adorned golden ceiling. Golden-coloured columns nestled against the walls and rose up to the ceiling. There was a white chimney in the room with two candle-holders and a clock on top of it. Above the chimney was a large mirror which reflected the window opposite from it ‒ and the brilliant light which shone through it. Beautiful seatings and tables which had been lovingly decorated with engravings stood by the walls. On top of some tables, I spotted the dark blue Sèvres Vases which had been acquired by King George IV in the second half of the last century.
The curtains and the upholstery of the chairs, armchairs and sofas were of pastel blue and azul, and the instance I realised this I knew exactly where I was: This was the Blue Drawing Room. The room which was originally meant to be a ballroom.
I had heard that it was beautiful, but I had never imagined it to be so stunning.
And I was a little bit sad that I couldn't marvel at the room's beauty any longer as a round table full of cakes and sweets had been placed in the middle of the parlour with two chairs around it ‒ and someone was sitting on one of them.
"Lady Cloudia Phantomhive has arrived," one of the Queen's butlers announced, bowing in front of his Queen and mistress. Then, they stepped away, allowing Queen Victoria to look at Cloudia as they had been blocking her sight to her first.
The Queen was looking extraordinarily lovely in her off-white dress with the blue sash over her chest and the amazing pattern on the lower part of the dress' skirt. The colour of the dress stood in contrast to her dark hair colour, and the blue of the sash made her pale blue eyes shine. The flower crown on top of her head gave Victoria something majestic and friendly ‒ simple ‒ at once. However, the thing what was making the Queen so lovely right now was the fact that her belly now had a respectable size and was clearly visible underneath her gowns.
Etiquette actually said that pregnant women should not get visitors or go out in public, but I guessed this could be overlooked by the Queen and when something important had to be discussed.
Cloudia curtsied in front of the young queen. "Your Majesty."
Queen Victoria smiled at her and waved away her servants. As soon as the door was closed again, the Queen raised her voice. "You may sit with me, Lady Cloudia."
You could do that, Cloudia.
"You can do that."
Cloudia walked as elegantly as possible without looking silly or like a little girl who was trying to imitate an adult towards the second chair and seated herself on it.
Queen Victoria smiled warmly at her. "You look beautiful today, Lady Cloudia," she complimented her. "Did you pick your clothes by yourself?"
Was that a test?
Cloudia sat up straighter on her chair. "I did, Your Majesty. I prefer picking my clothes by myself."
"I am happy for you that you can. I may be the Queen, but I am also restricted in some points."
Cloudia smiled at Victoria's words.
"And your hair! Did you braid the forget-me-nots into your hair by yourself?" the Queen asked her friendly.
Cloudia was beaming when she answered. "Yes, I did braid them into my hair all by myself, Your Majesty."
"This hairstyle definitely suits you very well," Victoria meant. "When I come to think of it, did you not wear flowers in your hair at my wedding too?"
"Yes, I did, Your Majesty."
Victoria smiled. Her smile made Cloudia feel warm and comfortable ‒ and she wondered why exactly her mother and Barrington did not seem to like her. Her father, Simon Phantomhive, had been the Watchdog of Charles IV and William IV, not of Victoria. They assumed that Simon had died because he had been given a task far too dangerous to handle ‒ but not Victoria had given it to him, but her uncle, the former king. She had nothing to do with it, so there was no reason to hate her because of it.
"I remember that the flowers you wore on the day of my wedding were pink, and that I did not know what their name was. Could you be so kind and tell me?"
"These were gladioli, Your Majesty," Cloudia answered happily. "The flower crown which you are wearing today is also very lovely, Your Majesty. Dahlias in cream and pale red."
The Queen laughed. "You are very knowledgeable in this field, Lady Cloudia." She pointed at the wonderful cakes and biscuits. "Feel free to take some. I am sorry that I forgot offering you anything earlier."
"It is alright, Your Majesty," Cloudia said, before she took a little piece of sponge cake.
"I am glad that it is." Then, the Queen suddenly went silent, leaned back and put one hand over her growing belly. "I am sorry to change the topic so suddenly and perhaps even ruin the room's atmosphere, but there is something I really need to talk with you about."
And when Victoria's gaze turned serious, Cloudia prepared herself for the worst.
What if she had just invited me for tea, so she could tell me the news that I was not going to be her Watchdog as another family had been found to follow into the Phantomhives' footsteps?
"I am sorry that you have to go through so much because of me," Victoria said in the end, surprising Cloudia.
She blinked. "Pardon, but I do not know what you mean, Your Majesty."
The Queen's eyes were full of sorrow when she looked at Cloudia. "I mean the Phantomhive System," she said with an incredibly soft voice.
"The Phantomhive System?" Cloudia asked.
"Did you never hear the term? It is the system in which you have been put by my uncle's advisers after your father passed away."
Something inside me froze.
It had a name.
My suffering had a name.
And the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland felt sorry for me because of it. Because of this "Phantomhive System."
But why?
"No words in the world will be able to express how sorry I am for you that you have to endure such a terrible thing," Victoria continued. "And I do not know if you know ‒ but you are not alone."
Cloudia allowed herself to stare a little bit at the Queen who put her hand over Cloudia's.
"When I was five years old, the Kensington System which my mother, the Duchess of Kent, and Sir John Conroy brought to live, started. I had to endure a strict daily schedule and was kept isolated from other children. I was only allowed to leave the palace a few times and always had to be at my mother's side ‒ or at the side of my governesses.
"But unlike you, I was at least able to play with my older half-sister and Sir Conroy's daughter. And while the Phantomhive System is only there to prepare you for your future duty as my Watchdog and make you stronger, the Kensington System's goal was to make me weak and dependent, so I wouldn't turn against my mother and Sir Conroy with my paternal family. So Mama could have her regency."
Victoria took Cloudia's hand and squeezed it like she had done it with Kamden's hand earlier today.
"The only thing which is better about the Phantomhive System is the fact that Penelope Phantomhive never created it. That she never supported it. You do not know how terrible it is to know that your own mother made you endure something so dreadful, and I am happy that, while the Phantomhive System is otherwise far more horrible than the Kensington System ever was, you were spared of this feeling."
I did not know what do say. For the first time in my life, I did not know what to say.
"And I am sorry," the Queen spoke further, taking away the obligation to reply something. "that I am not able to free you from it. Like I said before, I may be Queen, but that doesn't mean that I am not restricted.
"However, while I cannot free you from the Phantomhive System and give you the freedom you deserve and which was never given to me, I can give you something else to ease your suffering.
"I can shorten its duration."
I couldn't believe her words. Had she really said them or had it been all a dream? Was I still lying in my bed, there and not there, screaming in my mind but not in reality? Had I been tricked by my own mind?
Secretly, I pinched myself under the table, and the moment I felt the pain, I knew that I wasn't dreaming or imagining.
The Queen's words had been as real as it was possible.
And I nearly burst into tears at this realisation.
Cloudia cleared her throat, finally finding the strength to say something. "What exactly do you mean with 'shorten its duration,' Your Majesty?"
"I hope that you are aware of the fact that the Phantomhive System is over when you become my Watchdog," the Queen explained patiently. "Like I already said, I cannot abolish the system. I argued with my advisers over it after I became queen, but they have the opinion that the system is a blessing for you, not a torture. And while I grew up in a similar system and know how you feel like ‒ isolated, oppressed, alone – I also think that the system will benefit you in some way. I may not have liked the strictness and the isolation, but I am grateful for the wonderful education I have received. If I had never learned how to speak German, for example, which I did in the Kensington System, I would not have been able to speak with my darling Albert.
"Still, the Phantomhive System is terrible due to many aspects like the Kensington System was. I do not want to euphemize the dreadfulness to grow up without freedom. Therefore, I have decided to help you in the only way I can: To shorten the system's duration in making you my Watchdog sooner than planned."
Cloudia froze at Victoria's words, although she was filled with excitement. "You want to make me your Watchdog before I turn sixteen?" she asked further. "Before the arranged time, Your Majesty?"
Victoria smiled. "That is right, Lady Cloudia."
Hadn't it been inappropriate, I would have stood up and hugged her as tightly as I could in sheer happiness.
"When do you intend to make me your Watchdog then, Your Majesty?" Cloudia wanted to know.
"I have thought not to do it immediately as too much of your education would get lost otherwise," the Queen said. "And I also cannot do it in a few months. Surely, I do not want to make you suffer any longer, but I cannot appoint you as my Watchdog so soon due to the reason I have already given to you. But I thought about it for a very long time now and calculated everything by myself, even asked my Albert about his opinion, and I came to the conclusion that you could be ready when you turn twelve – also in approximately two years rather than six."
Cloudia's eyes widened and she had to fight the urge not to start crying. "I am forever grateful for your consideration, for the fact that you've spent so much time trying to find a way to help me, Your Majesty."
Victoria smiled beautifully. "I did it gladly, Lady Cloudia. Never in my life, I could stand by and watch someone suffer from such a system like I had. I am confident that you can learn all the things you were supposed to learn in the next six years in just two. From all I have heard of you, and from the conversation we are having now, I know that you are certainly intelligent and strong enough to accomplish this hard task."
"I will not disappoint you, Your Majesty!" Cloudia exclaimed determinedly. "I will accomplish this task without much effort."
The Queen's smile grew. "I know you will. And I know that you will do it wonderfully, Lady Cloudia."
I beamed with joy.
All my suffering, all my restrictions ‒ they would be gone in less than two years.
Fairly, this was the happiest day in my entire life.
The Queen was so friendly, big-hearted and noble ‒ she was a wonderful person and absolutely suited as queen. When she had ascended the throne with eighteen, Victoria had immediately been loved by her subjects ‒ with only last year's court intrigue about a possible affair between Sir John Conroy and Lady Flora Hastings, one of the ladies-in-waiting of the Duchess of Kent, tainting her reputation.
She was so considerate to find a way to help me out of the Phantomhive System, and she was so nice to invite me for tea even though she was pregnant, just because she wanted to get to know me and apologise to me for suffering under the Phantomhive System.
Of course, the Queen had made mistakes in the past, but she was still very inexperienced when it came to being a queen, so it was fine and it did not make her a less good person.
When I came to think of it... she did not seem to be the kind of person who hated people without a reason ‒ but why did she despise Barrington so much?
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Cloudia replied before she looked down on her lap.
Could I really ask her?, I thought before scolding myself. After all, how could I be the next Watchdog when I could not do something as simple as asking a question?
Cloudia looked up and directly into Victoria's eyes. "Excuse me, Your Majesty, may I ask you a question?"
The Queen smiled sweetly. "Of course, you may, Lady Cloudia."
"I was wondering why you do not seem to be fond of my fencing teacher and my father's best friend, Sir Barrington Weaselton, and wanted to ask you if you could tell me the reason of your apparent hatred."
All of a sudden, Victoria's blue eyes darkened. "I knew that you would ask this question one day. I just didn't think it would come so soon, but never-mind. I will tell you," she said, her voice not sounding as sweet and nice as before anymore. "I have various reasons for not liking Sir Barrington. One is the fact that he hurt the fragile heart of one of my friends. After your father's death ‒ may the Earl rest in peace in Heaven – Sir Barrington started to behave... inappropriately. Society was talking about his bad behaviour, even his own family turned its back against him. Only his wife, my friend he hurt, supported him with all her love. Sir Barrington may have become a disgrace to the knights and the upper class, but she still stayed by his side. He, however, did not seem to share this love and divorced her shamelessly, throwing her away of his house without any reason. Now, everyone was talking about her and speculating what she had done to make him file for divorce. They badmouthed her and made her even more miserable than she already was by continuing to stomp on her broken heart."
Cloudia's head had started to hurt while Victoria had spoken. "I do not understand," she slowly said. "Who is the friend you are talking about?"
The Queen frowned at her, and in her eyes laid concern and puzzlement. "I am speaking of Samantha Capper – Sir Barrington's former wife."
And then, my headache suddenly became worse before it almost disappeared in the next moment – only to leave a faint pain –, and I remembered. I couldn't believe that I didn't remember it the instance she had spoken about Barrington's wife.
From a place in the far back of my mind, I was able to reach out to an old and blurry memory of mine: I remembered laughter, sunshine, the smell of grass and flowers – and bright red hair like fire and eyes like emeralds. I remembered being picked up and being told a funny tale – and the laughter which had filled the two of us.
So many memories like these were slowly coming back to me – still blurry, but there – and I felt guilty for forgetting about these times, forgetting about this person.
"Barrington divorced Aunt Sam?" Cloudia blurted out, feeling embarrassed right away after the words had left her mouth for addressing Samantha Weaselton in such a familiar and intimate way.
According to my blurry memory full of holes, Barrington and Samantha had always been very "lovely-dovey." It was unimaginable that they were now divorced.
"He has never told you about it?" the Queen asked, surprised. "I believed he would have told you about that at least, even if he had not told you the entire story."
Cloudia shook her head. "He never mentioned Samantha to me, although we are seeing us almost every day for four years now."
"I cannot believe it! Trampling on a delicate girl's heart like that and then pretending as if anything like that never happened. I was never very fond of Sir Barrington for breaking Lady Samantha's heart like this after everything she had done for him, but now I have one more reason not to like him."
Victoria leaned back on her chair. "Like I have said, this is not the only reason why I do not like Barrington Weaselton. Also, you have to know, Lady Cloudia, that I simply do not only dislike him, but I am suspicious of him to the degree that I am worrying if it was a good decision to let him teach you. I know your father stated in the extract of his will I got to read that Sir Barrington should become your fencing teacher, and his wish was gladly fulfilled but I still have my doubts about it."
Cloudia's eyes widened. "I can see why you do not like Barrington ‒ but I cannot understand how you can be suspicious of him, Your Majesty. No matter what he has done to Samantha, he is still a good person. He was the best friend of my father who trusted him so much that he has even given his will to him to keep it safe."
"I know that, my dear," the Queen replied, her face full of sadness. "And while I do not intend to badmouth Sir Barrington, I cannot disregard one thing which is the reason of my suspicion towards him.
"Lady Cloudia ‒ did Sir Barrington ever tell you where he was on the day your father died?"
I stared at the Queen for the second time today.
Where Barrington had been when Father died? My headaches came back with this question.
A few years ago on Christmas, when Aunt Eleanor had hosted the festivities, I had accidentally overheard her scolding Constantia for bringing up the topic of Father's death. Apparently, she was afraid that I could freak out, become sad or have an attack if someone started talking about Father's day of death or asking me about it. Therefore, she was making sure that conversations about this topic would never go as far as "Simon Phantomhive died in 1834 and his wife locked herself up afterwards." At least, when I was around.
When I came to think of it, Barrington didn't talk about it either. Also, every time I asked him a question about my father, he either changed the topic or answered it without really answering it ‒ like when I had once asked "What was my father's routine when he had a new case to handle?" and he had answered "Well, you see, Dia, Si was a really good Watchdog ‒ always solving his cases." Of course, Barrington sometimes spoke about Father, but then he either mumbled something around "Why didn't she turn out more like her father?" or "Exactly like her father" or he said something general like "Si was the best person I knew." He never said "Si was the best person I knew because he single-handedly built an orphanage and knit socks for the poor" or anything like that.
I didn't know if Aunt Eleanor had forced him to avoid speaking about Father very much and in detail or if he did that on his own initiative.
Cloudia slowly shook her head. "No. He barely ever speaks about my father."
"I guessed so," Victoria replied with a sigh. "You need to know, Lady Cloudia, that Sir Barrington was aiding your father in his last case. Simon Phantomhive went to London to investigate it ‒ and Barrington Weaselton accompanied him. However, when you and your mother visited Simon later, which happened to be the day the Earl was murdered, Sir Barrington was nowhere to be seen in the Phantomhive townhouse according to some testimonies. Sir Barrington stayed at the Phantomhive townhouse with your father during their investigations which were not completed at that time, and they still are not. Still, neither his possessions nor himself were there when you arrived with your mother. Also, your father was aware of the fact that his wife and daughter would come to see him on that day ‒ so why would he send his best friend away who happened to like both? I know that because my uncle told me that the Earl entrusted him about your visit and that he was looking forward to it.
"I know that this is not enough to blame Sir Barrington for the Earl's death ‒ something I surely do not want to do –, but his absence on that day still sounds very fishy to me. Besides, there is another thing which is making me suspicious.
"Watchdogs have Aristocrats of Evil who help them during their investigations for the crown. The number of Aristocrats a Watchdog has varies from Watchdog to Watchdog. For example, your father had two ‒ Sir Barrington and Mrs Theresa Dale, the rich widow of an entrepreneur. Not only wasn't Sir Barrington at the Phantomhive townhouse for some reason when your father died, Mrs Dale moved to the States shortly after the Earl's death ‒ a circumstance I think is fairly odd.
"But these are all speculations ‒ and not even me can take someone to court without proof."
I couldn't believe her words. As much I wanted to think that Barrington of all people simply could not be involved in Father's death, the Queen's words let my, in fact, blind trust to Barrington waver.
Again, Victoria put her hand over Cloudia's. "I know that you are confused now and don't know what to believe and what not, but I want you to know that I did not say all these things to villainise Sir Barrington ‒ I said all these things for your own sake, Lady Cloudia.
"The life of the Watchdog is not an easy one. Of course, I did not experience and will never experience it first-handled, but as the Watchdog's employer, I am aware of the dangers coming with this occupation. And as it is commonly known, dangers walk hand in hand with enemies.
"There are different kinds of enemies: Enemies who show their true faces openly to you. Enemies who disguise themselves as friends you have spent many years with, or even as family members who would eventually backstab you. Therefore, I want you to know that, as Watchdog, you should not trust anyone blindly ‒ no matter if you have known this person all your life. You need to be careful and always be alarmed ‒ only giving out as little information about yourself as possible to someone else. You can be friendly and be friends with others, of course you can and I would never interfere with this kind of affair, but you always need to keep in mind not to trust people easily and to keep a certain distance between yourself and them, no matter how close you are actually to each other. After all, as Watchdog, you can never be absolutely certain that they will not eventually betray you.
"The life of a queen is a similar one: You always have to be careful around others. You always need to present yourself as best as you can. The moment you make a mistake, the moment you show weakness, society will never let go of it and haunt you with it forever. Humans like gossiping and badmouthing others. And they like using other persons' weaknesses against them to feel superior. To have something to use against them. To have something they can use to let them fall down as terribly as possible.
"I am only telling you all this, Lady Cloudia, because I do not want you to get hurt. The less you open yourself up to others, the more likely it is that you will not get hurt. I hope you understand that."
It was scary to think that Barrington or anyone else I engaged with could eventually be part of my downfall. But the Queen was right: This had happened in the past and it could definitely happen to me too if I weren't careful enough. Gaius Julius Caesar had been stabbed by his close friend Marcus Brutus, Jesus Christ had been betrayed by his apostle Judas for nothing more than 30 silver coins, and Doña Marina or La Malinche had turned back against her own people and helped the Spanish conquer the Aztec Empire. History had proven that people could turn against their friends and family all the time, so it wasn't very unlikely that it could also happen to me.
It was still terrible to think of Barrington, my cousins, my aunts and my uncles as possible traitors. Also, I doubted that Constantia was capable of betraying me or selling me to my enemies. She was too much of a ditz to do something like that. Ceara, however, was more likely to do anything like that as she was very observant and witty, even though she was just nine years old. She was loud and slightly annoying, but it was hard to make out what she was actually thinking. Clarissa was a very strict person and held great value of rules. If she was ever to get the hint ‒ which would definitely be a false one – that I had done something against the crown, she would betray me faster than the fastest horse on the planet could gallop. Cathleen and Celeste were both too frail and fragile to be able to betray anyone. Also, they were too good by heart and couldn't even hurt a fly. And Keegan – Keegan was in many ways like his sister: observant and inscrutable. The fact that he was tall with broad shoulders and always had a scowl on his face was a bonus.
But, of course, I could be wrong about them. Just because Clarissa was rules-bound, and Keegan and Ceara were odd didn't mean that they would betray me. And just because Cathleen and Celeste were fragile and kind, and Constantia was a cloudcuckoolander didn't mean that they would not.
I took a deep mental breath. The Queen was right. Trusting people too easily could murder me sooner or later. No matter if they were family or if I had known them all my life.
I had to be careful. From now on, I had to be less open and more cautious.
"Lady Cloudia, dear, you are looking pale," Victoria suddenly said, bringing Cloudia back to reality. "Is everything fine?"
"Everything is fine, I am fine, Your Majesty," Cloudia answered and took a sip of her tea. It had gone cold.
"I am terribly sorry for pushing so many disturbing things at you at once, Lady Cloudia. You are still very young. I should not have done this."
"It is fine, Your Majesty. I can handle it," she said with absolute determination. "It was better that you have told me all these things now and not later. The sooner I start being more careful, the better it will be."
The Queen smiled brightly. "That is wonderful to hear, Lady Cloudia."
"I just want to make everything right," Cloudia replied. "I do not wish to disappoint anyone."
All of a sudden, the Queen grimaced for the briefest of seconds, but Cloudia had still caught sight of it. "Your Majesty," she carefully and slowly said after a moment, her heart racing in her chest as she knew that something was wrong. "Is there still anything you want to tell me?"
Victoria sighed. "I am sorry to tell you this, dear, but while I think that you will be a great Watchdog and will never disappoint me, my advisers think otherwise." With a serious gaze, the Queen looked directly into Cloudia's eyes. "For a very short time, they warmed up with the thought of a girl becoming the next Watchdog. It was after you showed exceptional talent in fencing. However, this phase only held for a very short time as they were not fond of the way your mother was shadowing you at my wedding. They said that it seemed like you were still a little child despite your talent, and thus stayed with your mother most of the time as you were still dependent on her. Furthermore, they thought that you were dressed very childishly. While they approved of your dress, they greatly disapproved of your hair-do. The Royal advisers are of the opinion that putting flowers all over someone's hair is just something a child would do. I love it how your hair looks like with these flowers as it truly suits you, but for them, this is just something very childish. Grown-up women do not decorate their hair as excessively with flowers like you do. 'Perhaps one or two flowers, but they do not put an entire garden in their hair' like the advisers phrased it. Even my guests talked about how 'cute' and 'adorable' you looked. 'Like a little girl.' The advisers want someone mature and not someone who appears to be childish.
"It is breaking my heart to tell you all these things in a single day, Lady Cloudia, it truly does, but if you do not match with the standards of the Royal advisers until your twelfth birthday, I will not be able to make you my Watchdog earlier than planned. This means that you would have to live under the Phantomhive System until you turn sixteen ‒ just like it was originally decided by my uncle."
I closed my eyes even though I knew very well how inappropriate it was.
I slowly counted from ten downwards.
Ten.
I wished Clifford was here to go and get me a cup of hot milk with honey. He would know that I needed it right now.
Nine.
All my efforts to be considered mature had been meaningless. They had been a sheer waste of time.
Eight.
First the thing about Barrington, and now that.
Seven.
I had done everything wrongly.
Six.
I was a failure.
Five.
First I could not even do... I could not even...
Four.
And now I was failing again.
Three.
What would all the previous Watchdogs think of me?
Two.
Not even my fencing helped.
One.
I needed Kamden.
Zero.
I opened my eyes.
There was pure sadness lying in the Queen's eyes and when she reached out to inappropriately hold Cloudia's hand, Cloudia nearly burst into tears.
She would indeed go down in history as a wonderful queen, and her children would definitely adore their kind mother.
"I... I..." She wanted to say something, but for the first time in her entire life, she stuttered and the words slipped from her grip.
"It is fine, Lady Cloudia," Victoria whispered, her voice gentle and warm. "I am sorry for pushing so many things at you at once."
"It... It is okay," Cloudia said, her voice low and without strength. "I can handle this."
"I wished I could do anything against it."
Cloudia shook her head. "No. You... You have done enough already, Your Majesty. It was me who was not doing anything." She shook her head again and a bitter chuckle escaped her lips.
I really wasted my time with pointless stuff. It was like I had never really done anything at all.
I really was a failure, wasn't I?
It was silent for a brief moment in the Blue Drawing Room before Victoria spoke up again. "Very well," she said. "Now, let us talk about lighter topics.
"I have thought about it and came to the conclusion that it would be better if we did not meet each other so formally. As we are going to work together for a very long time, I allow you to call me by my first name only, Cloudia."
Wait ‒ didn't offering someone to call you solely by your given name mean that you were...
... that you were friends?
No. This was a childish thought. She would never be a friend. She was my superior, my queen.
"I am honoured, Victoria," Cloudia replied, her face like a stiff mask when she sat up straight and her eyes shone with seriousness.
After a few more hours, I said goodbye to Victoria in a proper manner before leaving Buckingham Palace. I was driven back in a different carriage with a different coachman. But instead of being dropped out at Somerset House, I asked the coachman to let me out when we were driving past St. James's Park Lake. He was so friendly to grant me my wish. When he returned to the palace, I did not look after him.
"My name is Cloudia Phantomhive ‒ and I am a failure. A disgrace. A disaster."
I walked towards the lake and gazed down into the dark water. The reflection of my pale, pale face in the water was blurred.
"My name is Cloudia Phantomhive ‒ and I have wasted my life up until now."
I saw myself in the water, the sun was shining next to me but I did not care.
"My name is Cloudia Phantomhive ‒ and I am childish and unsuitable to be the next Watchdog."
I put down my hood and saw my dark, dark hair with the light, light flowers.
"My name is Cloudia Phantomhive ‒ and someone I trust with my life since forever is a suspect in killing my father. Or being accessory to the murder."
I ran my fingers through my hair and opened the braids. The forget-me-nots fell into my hands ‒ and I let them fall into the lake.
"My name is Cloudia Phantomhive ‒ and from now on, I will work to become someone different."
I looked after the forget-me-nots which were floating away in the lake. My hair was now braided into a wreath at the back of my head.
No more flowers in my hair, no more childish outbursts, no more blind trusting. No more games, no more nicknames, no more fooling around.
"My name is Cloudia Phantomhive ‒ future Countess of Phantomhive and Watchdog of the Queen. I will be the first female to hold the title in my own right, and the first one to ever become the Watchdog.
"Only the Queen is more powerful than me.
"I will not fail again. I will not be a disgrace. Neither to the Phantomhive name nor to all the previous Watchdogs. I can do this.
"I will prove it to everyone until nobody is doubting my competence anymore."
It took me a very long time to return to the Sainteclare Bookstore. I did not know what time it was, but I was certain that it was already past five o'clock. Way past five o'clock.
Kamden's reaction when I walked through the door of the bookstore proved that I was right.
Kamden Sainteclare never dropped a book. He dropped many things, but never a book. And if he ever carried me, he would not drop me too.
But when I stepped through the door, the book Kamden had been holding fell down to the carpet faster than Areion travelled three kilometres. The next moment – again, faster than Areion would ever be ‒ Kamden was hugging me tightly.
He usually never did anything like this. He never dropped books. He rarely hugged me of his own accord.
"Cloudie," Kamden whispered, his voice faint and shaky. "Cloudie, Cloudie, Cloudie..."
He did not stutter once when he spoke her name. He usually did, but right now he was saying it as fluently as everyone else. Only now, Cloudia realised that he was wearing a coat ‒ and something told her that the book he had been holding and had let fallen down was not a novel nor a textbook but a map.
Kamden had been about to leave his beloved bookstore alone to search for her all on his own.
"I am sorry," Cloudia replied, knowing that saying these words alone would never be enough, and he held her even tighter. "I am sorry for being late. I am sorry for worrying you."
I sometimes caught myself imagining that, in a different world, Kamden and I truly were twins. That we would see each other and laugh and talk every single day. That we would run the bookstore with our parents and possible other siblings. That, in a different world, we would live happily and freely together.
But this world did not exist. And the one we lived in was not a fairy tale.
In this world, there was not something like a "happily ever after."
There only was the cold and harsh truth, reality.
In this world, I was the Watchdog to be and Kamden was a bookseller from the lower class. And someday, one of us would die, leaving the other all alone in this world.
All alone, all empty, all uncompleted.
Because the concept of a "happily ever after" simply did not exist in this world, and I would die and leave Kamden all by himself – without his Almost Twin, without his other piece.
And I wished that I had never met him, so my passing would not hurt him.
And I wished that we had been born into the other world.
The world with the concept of a "happily ever after."
I should not be doing this. I had promised not to be childish anymore. But Kamden... he was the only person in the entire universe I knew I could trust forever. We were bond by something similar to the red thread. He would definitely never betray me ‒ and I would never ever betray him in my life.
He was my brother, my twin, he was my other half. My better half.
And no matter how much I needed to change to be accepted, to be seen as an adult, to be respected, to be worthy of the title of the Watchdog and Countess, I would always be the same old Cloudia to him. To him and only to him.
I hugged him back and buried my face in his chest.
He was my safe haven, my sanctum sanctorum. And I would never allow him to get hurt or corrupted. He was the exception to my promise ‒ just like I was the exception to the rule of Watchdogs only being males.
I would never allow to mix my Watchdog life with my life with Kamden. When I was with him I would not be the Lady, the Countess, the Watchdog ‒ I would be Cloudia. Only Cloudia. For him, I would do this exception.
For him and only for him.
We stood hugging each other for a while before we finally separated. Then, we helped us to get out of our cloak and coat, and when we were done Kamden took my hand led me up to his flat where we spent the rest of my stay in London on his bed, reading.
At eight o'clock the coachman and the footman came back and Kamden was especially reluctant to let me leave. In the end, I somehow managed to convince him to stop hugging my arm ‒ he had clung onto it and refused to let go which was very unlike him – and something I could not really classify was reflected in his eyes when I said goodbye to him and left the bookstore.
The way back to the Phantomhive Manor was long and tiring and when we were finally back, it was quite late.
"Dia!" Barrington cried when Cloudia stepped through the entrance. His face was shining with happiness when he saw her. She managed to reach the stairs before he could reach and hug her. Quickly, she climbed up the stairs.
I did not know if he had really been involved in Father's murder, but I still did not feel like seeing him. After all, he had certainly kept a few pieces of information away from me: Who was Theresa Dale? Why did he not tell me that something had happened between him and Samantha? And what exactly had happened between them?
I could understand why he did not speak about the day my father died, but why did he not talk about the other things?
"Dee, did you have a nice day?" Barrington asked from the landing.
"Barrington, be honest with me – where have you been when Father died?"
Cloudia bit her lip and stopped walking. "Yes," she answered. "Yes, I had. Thanks for asking."
"What happened to you after Father died? You were thrown out of the British Knights, you got divorced from Aunt Sam..."
"How is he?" he kept on asking. As Cloudia wanted as few persons as possible to know about Kamden's relationship to her, Barrington could not just yell his name through the hallway. "Cute as always?"
I wanted to ask him what felt like a million questions, but I could not ask one.
If he had really taken part in Father's murder, asking him these questions without a context could make him suspicious. If he actually was my enemy, I did not want to know what he would do if he got suspicious that I was beginning to suspect something. Especially when I considered that Barrington knew Kamden.
Kamden was his ward, and when Barrington wasn't around me he was around him ‒ much to Kamden's annoyance as Barrington constantly tried to hug him or ruffle through his hair or anything like that. Barrington's behaviour always resulted in him either writing me or telling me in person about his misery that Kamden did not like him, and simultaneously Kamden did the same about his annoyance.
If Barrington really was my enemy, the probability that he would hurt me through doing anything to Kamden was quite high. After all, his affection towards Kamden could also be as much of a lie as his affection towards me then.
Starting tomorrow, I would have to thoroughly check everything Victoria had told me in all secrecy. I needed to know if Barrington and Samantha were really divorced and that he had truly hurt her. I needed to find out who Theresa Dale was and if possible why she had moved to the USA after Father's death. I needed to find out everything I could about my father's final case and Barrington's involvement ‒ and where he had been on the day Father had died. If Barrington had really helped my father in this case, there had to be a reason why he had not been at the townhouse when Mother and I had come for a visit.
"Dee? Is everything alright? You're strangely silent," Barrington said and interrupted her thoughts. "Are you still feeling unwell, Dia?"
"No," Cloudia answered, not turning towards him. "I just... feel a bit tired. That's all."
And with these words, she climbed up the rest of the stairs and walked to her chambers.