I am terribly sorry for my long absence! I was not feeling very well, and when I did, I had a lot of other things to do. And then, of all things, school started again…
Due to the length of the thirteenth chapter, I decided to split it into two. In the first part, Cloudia and Kamden celebrate their 12th birthday. In the second, there will be the actual, titular decoration(s). Actually, I wanted to keep the birthday part as short as possible, but, then, I had more and more ideas, and it somehow turned quite long (over 10,000 words). I don't know when the second part will come, but I am working on it. Just like I am working on the third chapter of Miss Peregrine's School for Fine Ladies.
More at the end of the chapter. But right now: Hope you'll enjoy the very late half update!
Chapter Thirteen:
The Lady, Best and Worst
"Her magical birthday was not her thirteenth or sixteenth but her twelfth."
Countryside, England, United Kingdom – April 1842
As soon as I opened my eyes this morning, I knew that today was my big day.
Many important and interesting historical things had happened on April 5. For example:
On April 5, 1614, the famous chief's daughter Pocahontas – also known as Matoaka and Amonute as well as Rebecca Rolfe after her conversion to Christianity and her wedding – married the tobacco planter John Rolfe at the age of seventeen or eighteen. Seven years later, the famous ship Mayflower, which had transported the first Pilgrims to the States in 1620, returned from Plymouth, Massachusetts to England.
On April 5, 1722, Jacob Roggeveen, a Dutch explorer who had lived from 1659 to 1729, discovered the Easter Island, a Chilean island and home to the 887 moai.
On April 5, 1804, the High Possil meteorite fell in a quarry near High Possil which was located in Milton, a district of Glasgow.
Also, I shared my birthday with Japanese Emperor Go-Fushimi, born 1288 as Tanehito; English philosopher Thomas Hobbes, born 1588; Italian mathematician and scientist Vincenzo Viviani, born 1622; and heroine of the American Revolutionary War Sybil Ludington, born 1761.
And, of course, the best person in the entire universe and my Almost Twin, Kamden Sainteclare, born 1830.
Today, Kamden and I would turn twelve years old. For other people, the twelfth birthday was an ordinary birthday, but for me, it was a very important one.
Because from today on I would finally be free.
After my father's death, I had been harshly thrown in the so-called Phantomhive System. Under the guidance of the Royal advisers and a terrible governess, I had lived like a prisoner in my own home for the last eight years. But after Queen Victoria had decided to make me her Watchdog when I turned twelve and not sixteen like it had been originally planned, the Phantomhive System would come to its early end today.
From today on, I would be free of the Phantomhive System – free of Agatha, free of the horrible lessons. Finally, I did not have to ask someone if I wanted to go outside. Neither the advisers nor Barrington. Today was the best day in my entire life – together with my decoration in a month which would officially make me the Queen's Watchdog.
I couldn't be happier. Oh, well – yes, I could. After all, while all these things were great and wonderful and made my heart skip, I was simply overflowed with joy when I thought that Kamden would come in a few hours so that we could celebrate our birthday together.
Jacob Roggeveen had definitely not been as happy and excited as I was right now when he had discovered the Easter Island. Not even when he had first seen the moai.
Kamden Sainteclare was my most precious person in all of the possible universes. Therefore, I would protect him until the very, very end. Hence, I always sent away all my servants except Clifford for a short holiday when I invited Kamden over, so nobody would see him and thus would know about his existence.
Unfortunately, this meant that I had to get into a corset all by myself. It was a loose and light corset, but it was still quite hard to put it on all by myself. After an hour of almost breaking my arms and memorising to send away one of the maids later than the others, I had finally managed to get in. I quickly put on a dress – pale honey yellow with dark red ribbons and lace – and walked down to have breakfast.
Usually, I would have run downstairs, but after a very opening talk to the Queen two years ago I had stopped behaving like a child – or at least I had slowly and subtly stopped acting like a child so Barrington would not get suspicious. Now, for example, I stepped down the stairs in absolute grace and did not slide over the bannister.
"Good morning, Young Mistress," Clifford greeted Cloudia with a small bow after she had entered the dining hall. "I wish you a happy birthday."
"Good morning to you too, Clifford," she replied with a delicate smile while she sat down on her chair, and he gently pushed it a bit towards the table. "And thanks."
Before they could continue their conversation and talk about things beyond simple small talk, Barrington rushed into the dining hall. The two big doors were slammed against the walls, and his jacket fluttered because of the wind gust. His brown hair was slightly messy, and so was his moustache.
"Dia!" he cried and ran towards her, a gigantic smile on his lips and his cheeks rosy from excitement. The second he arrived by her side, Barrington hugged Cloudia as tightly as he could. "I was especially quickly, so I could tell you 'happy birthday' before anyone else could. Happy birthday, Dia! I cannot believe that you are already twelve years old. It's like it was yesterday that Si got all nervous while Penelope was in the middle of the process of pressing you out of her body."
"Barrington," Cloudia struggled to say. "I cannot breathe."
"Oh, right. Sorry, Dee," he said and loosened the hug.
"Also, while I do not want to destroy all your dreams and hopes, unfortunately, I have to: Clifford was faster."
Barrington held her at arm's length and stared at her before he turned his head and stared at the butler. "Old Ted?! How could you! I trusted you! I have known you longer than you have known her, and still, you did this terrible thing to me! I thought we were friends!"
Cloudia sighed. "Ignore him, Clifford. I guess our early retired knight took too many of his Ridiculousness Pills today. We have to find and destroy them before he gets addicted to them."
Barrington pouted at her. "You are so mean, Dia! Just like your mother. She was also mean to me most of the time. Always making fun of me."
"Well, if you were not the personification of a failed joke, it would be significantly harder to make fun of you, Barrington."
"Why are you so harsh today?" he asked, his shoulders hanging down.
"I was just about to eat before you rushed in and hindered me to have breakfast. Kamden will be here in a couple of hours, and I still need to prepare a few things after breakfast. And when you continue to hinder me doing so, I cannot do the preparations. By the way – were you not supposed to pick up Kamden? Kamden who lives in London, a city approximately two hours away from Phantomhive Manor?"
"Oh. Right." Barrington scratched his head, abashed. "I nearly forgot about that."
Cloudia sighed again. "He is your ward, Barrington, and he would definitely never forget to pick you up. So, I guess you should hurry up, or he will miss his own birthday party."
Barrington made a long face. "You're especially mean today, Dia."
"I am mean because I am hungry. You have just forced a lady to admit her hunger, so I guess you know that I am currently starving because you are preventing me from eating.
"I do not want to be mean to you, but if you continue to stand around and waste my precious breakfast time, I will have to eat my hair or the chair on which I am sitting. So, now please go and get Kamden, Barrington, okay?"
A part of me did not like saying all these things to Barrington in such a harsh tone, but, first of all, I was honestly hungry and annoyed that he had forgotten to get Kamden. Second, after the Queen had told me that Barrington was a suspect in the murder of my father I was not able to see him with the same eyes as before.
I had spent the last two years secretly finding out if what the Queen had told me was really true. Not that I did not trust the ruler of my homeland. I simply could not believe that Barrington, of all people, could have helped to murder my father – or could have done this crime by himself.
To my horror, everything the Queen had said to me was true: Simon Phantomhive had only had two Aristocrats of Evil – Barrington and a woman called Theresa Dale.
Theresa Light had married a rich entrepreneur named William Dale when she had been in her early twenties. They had had a calm marriage free of any scandals which had abruptly ended in 1829 when William Dale had suddenly died. Five years prior to William's death, his wife had become an Evil Noblewoman.
Shortly after the Earl's death, Theresa had moved to the USA. My father had only been dead for a couple of days when Theresa Dale had left the kingdom in what seemed to have been in a hurry as she had only taken a few things with her. Her leaving the country so quickly after Simon had died was certainly fishy – just like Victoria had said.
Also, after a lot of research I had found out that Barrington had stayed with my father at the townhouse during their final investigation, and had known about my mother's and mine visit. However, I could not find out if my father had given him some task or something like that which would explain Barrington not having been at the townhouse at the time of the murder. I had subtly asked Clifford who had also been at the townhouse on that day if he knew where Barrington had been. Clifford had frowned and asked me why I wanted to know such a thing, and I had answered that it had slipped out of Constantia that Barrington had not been there even though he should have been. Constantia let often slip out information about my father's death and was always scolded by Eleanor because of that so Clifford would not become suspicious when I told him that.
As long as Barrington really hadn't been at the townhouse at that time, of course. Then, I would have had to act all surprised and just say that Constantia must have been mistaken.
Unfortunately, Clifford had entrusted me that Barrington had not been there when Mother and I had arrived. He had not even been present when Father's body had been found or when the townhouse had been filled with police officers. Barrington had only returned two days later.
Oh, and when I had said "a couple of days" earlier I had meant "two days."
The day Barrington had returned to the townhouse was the day Theresa Dale had vanished to the States.
After finishing breakfast, Cloudia headed down to the kitchen. Kamden did not like it when she got him presents, but as she did not want to give him nothing on his birthday she had decided to give him something which was not exactly a present. So it came that ever since they had celebrated their ninth birthday together all those years ago that Cloudia would annexe the kitchen to prepare her little gift without any help for a few days.
In around three hours, Kamden would arrive. This was plenty of time to finish everything.
Three hours later, I stood with Clifford in the entrance hall with a wide smile on my face. Kamden could arrive any minute, and I was excited to the bones. I had not seen him for weeks now, and I simply could not await to be reunited with him.
Then, the door was opened, and Kamden entered the entrance hall. He was wearing black trousers with braces and dark shoes, a white shirt and a black jacket over it. He had brushed his hair, but it was still a bit messy, and his blue eyes were wide and anxious. In his hands, he held a little packet which had been gift-wrapped and decorated with an elegant bow. The instance Kamden's gaze came across mine his pale face lit up, and I hurried towards him to embrace him in a hug.
"Kammie!" Cloudia exclaimed and hugged him tightly, but without damaging the packet in his hands.
Kamden leaned his head against her shoulder, unable to hug her back. "Clou-Cloudie."
She stepped back and looked at him. One year ago, they still had been about the same height, but now, he was one head taller than her. "He... he tri-tried to hug me," blurted it out of Kamden who nervously toyed with the bow.
Cloudia turned her head and glared at Barrington who had also entered the entrance hall. "First you forget to pick him up," she began, and Kamden added in a whisper: "He waaas for-forty-nine minutes laaate."
"You let Kamden wait for forty-nine minutes although you know fairly well how fast he starts to panic – he probably thought I died, and you were busy burying my corpse."
"I-I did," Kamden mumbled and buried his face in the collar of his jacket. Cloudia nodded. "See? You let Kamden wait, and he started to panic – on his birthday. And then you even tried to hug him even though you are very well aware of the fact that he does not like to be hugged by anyone else than Blodwen or me on occasions." She blinked at Barrington. "Is everything okay with you, Barrington?"
Barrington took a deep breath and ran one hand through his brown hair. He was in his late thirties, but sometimes he looked way older – like now. His face was grey, his moustache slightly messy and his eyes were sunken. He did not look like thirty-eight but like fifty-eight.
Why did I not notice this at breakfast? I thought, and a nasty voice at the back of my head answered: Because you are slowly starting not to care about him anymore. Who would care about the potential murderer of your father?
I felt something tearing at my heart.
"I am, Dia," Barrington answered with a hoarse voice.
"I don't believe you," Cloudia firmly said. "Kam does not either." Kamden, who had positioned himself next to his Almost Twin, nodded.
"Is it about my father?" Cloudia asked, and Barrington flinched a bit. "I know that he will be eight years dead soon, but you have never behaved like that before. So there has to be something else bothering you too, right?"
All of a sudden, Barrington stepped towards Cloudia and hugged her tightly. She could feel him taking a deep breath and his body shaking a bit, his heart beating a bit too fast.
"I am fine," he said with a firm voice. "You don't need to worry about me, Dee." He stepped back from her and smiled, putting his hand on her head. "You and Kamden are the stars of today, so you don't need to think about me. I am fine after all."
Then, Barrington was suddenly back to being the noisy and always joking person he usually was. He clapped his hands and grinned. "It is your birthday! Dia, Kamden – sorry that I tried to hug you, but you are just too cute – everyone wants to hug you! Let the birthday banquet begin! And the gift exchange! I got you two absolutely stunning gifts – but I won't tell you what they are now! It's a secret. S-E-C-R-E-T. But I will tell you that there is a 100% guarantee that my presents will make you happier than some drug – please promise me that you kids will never do drugs, they are bad stuff, opium's the worst."
He turned to Clifford. "Old Ted, would you be so kind to take Kamden's jacket and the present in his hands? He will only destroy it if he keeps toying with it." Clifford bowed and wordlessly headed to Kamden to take his coat and present. In the meantime, Barrington turned to Cloudia. "Please take Kamden's hand." She frowned, but still did it. Kamden threw an anxious glance at her, silently asking if Barrington had been the one doing drugs lately. Cloudia smirked a bit and shook her head although she was not certain about it. Perhaps he was indeed taking Ridiculousness Pills? Then, Barrington took Cloudia's hand and dragged her after him – and she dragged Kamden after herself.
"Up to the dining room!" Barrington yelled and pointed in the direction of the dining room, leading Kamden and Cloudia there while giggling like a little child.
Sometimes I wondered why my father had befriended Barrington of all people.
Shortly afterwards, Barrington, Kamden and I sat at the large table in the dining room. Kamden sat next to me, and Barrington opposite from us.
Clifford and the cook had prepared quite a lot of desserts yesterday: There was sponge cake, squash, apple pie with ice cream or custard, gooseberry and cherry fool, bread and butter pudding, treacle tart, Queen of Puddings and lemon meringue pie. Kamden's eyes widened when he saw all these sweets. My Almost Twin had a very sweet tooth and, while he always seemed calm and collected, he was internally dying of waiting for it being time for dessert whenever we ate together.
I stood up and excused myself, hurrying to the kitchen where I carefully grabbed my present and carried it back to the dining room. Clifford, Barrington, and Kamden followed me with their eyes when I put down my present in the middle of the table and theatrically lifted the bowl with which I had covered it.
Kamden's eyes shone like two gigantic sapphires in the sunlight when he saw what had been hiding underneath the bowl: A big chocolate and pear charlotte with currants and strawberries on top.
Charlotte russe was a dessert which had been invented by Marie-Antoine Carême, a French chef. The cake had been named after the late Princess Charlotte, the Princess of Wales, and Czar Alexander of Russia.
It had taken a very long time to make the charlotte as I had to struggle with quite a lot of problems. For example, the ladyfingers had kept falling down during the early stages. But, in the end, everything had turned out well.
I always baked Kamden a cake for our birthday – he did not want me to spend money for him as he wanted to stand on his own feet so that I had decided to learn how to make cakes and pies, so I could give them to him. At first, my cakes had been clumsily made – cooking having never been part of my curriculum –, but Kamden had still liked them. In the last couple of years, I had practised and practised and improved so much that I didn't have to fear to accidentally poison Kamden anymore at least.
Kamden stood up and tightly hugged his Almost Twin, and Cloudia happily returned it. He did not have to say anything; his action said more than a million words. Kamden rarely hugged or simply touched others, not even Cloudia. It was her who initiated hugs and hands-holding.
They parted, and Kamden pulled out her chair and slowly pushed it back when she sat on it. Then, he returned to his own seat and Clifford appeared to cut the cake.
Usually, you mixed a coin and a thimble into the batter of the birthday cake. Finding the coin in your piece of cake meant that you would become a wealthy person, finding the thimble would leave you single forever.
I had not put any of these things, coin and thimble, into the charlotte because neither Kamden nor I could understand the sense behind such traditions. There was another birthday tradition we were not very fond of, but because we had already decided not to do the coin-and-thimble-thing, Barrington had forced us to keep at least the other tradition.
The other tradition was the "bumps." The "bumps" was some kind of terrible game in which your friends lift you up in the air – some held your hands, some your feet – and raised you up and down for each year you had already spent on earth, then "one for luck, two for luck and three for the old man's coconut." It was absolutely horrifying, and the "old man's coconut" part was one of the most puzzling things on the entire planet, no, in the entire universe. Why should you get lifted three extra times for some coconut belonging to an old man? Was this coconut, perhaps, a particularly sadistic coconut? Or could it be that the coconut and, or the old man had invented this terrible thing called "bumps"?
When I had turned seven, Barrington did it the first time to me, and I, the Watchdog-to-be, had been terrified. Ten times of getting lifted up and down had completely horrified me to the point that I had wished not to get even more lifts in the following years. Kamden hated the "bumps" even more than I did if this was even possible, and I was quite certain that he was secretly trying to hunt down the coconut and the old man in his free time.
The "bumps" was the only thing in the entire world which could turn me into a little, screaming girl. And no matter how often Barrington told us that he only insisted on it "because we needed to do things normal children did from time to time," I did not believe him as I was certain that he actually insisted on it because he wanted to see something funny. He had been an Evil Nobleman once after all.
Clifford finished to cut the cake and gave everyone a slice of it. When he was done, he put the knife down and positioned himself again in the shadows.
"Come eat with us, Clifford," Cloudia invited him with a smile. "You're basically a family member after all."
Clifford bowed. "Thank you for the invitation, Young Lady."
He had called me that ever since I had asked him never to call me "Young Mistress" again.
The old butler seated himself next to Barrington who smiled broadly. "Now, only Penelope and Grace have to come down, and we're complete."
Grace Nullings was my mother's maid and the only person who got to see her daily. I sometimes caught myself envying her.
Actually, I had caught myself envying her all day long today as my mother did not come out of her room like she had done it when I had been invited to Victoria's wedding, although it was one of my most important birthdays today.
Or perhaps even the most important one.
Suddenly, Kamden uncharacteristically glared at Barrington which resulted in every present person becoming utterly shocked. They all stared at him, even Cloudia who could not believe what her twin had just done.
"L... Let us start eat-eating," Kamden said and even though he had stuttered, his voice had been so icy nobody dared to say anything against it. After a brief second in which they were still completely bewildered, Barrington, Clifford, and Cloudia wordlessly returned to normal and started to eat their slices of charlotte – a circumstance which seemed to please Kamden.
After everything had been eaten, and everyone was full and not able to move properly anymore, Barrington clapped his hands together and smiled.
"It's time for the presents!" he exclaimed happily as if it was his birthday or Christmas. He quickly stood up and ran out of the room.
"Do you have a clue what Barrington will give us, Kam?" Cloudia asked her twin who shook his head.
Barrington was someone who gave people absurdly terrible gifts. Sometimes, I wondered if he did it on purpose to tease us, or if he was dead serious with his presents.
Last year, Barrington had got Kam a weirdly shaped mug – we were both sure that Barrington had made it himself – and me the ugliest scarf in the entire universe. The colours of the scarf did not match very well, tiny dancing unicorns were on it, and it itched quite badly when you wore it. Kamden only struggled to drink from the mug when Barrington was visiting him, and I had sacrificed the well-being of my neck last winter for making Barrington happy by wearing this abomination.
I turned the Phantomhive ring on my finger like I always did when I was thinking, nervous, excited or upset. Actually, I was not allowed to wear it, but the ring made me feel more secure. Thus I wore it despite the prohibition.
"Happy birthday, ward kiddo!" Barrington screamed when he re-entered the dining room with a brilliant grin and a clumsily wrapped present in his hands which he gave to Kamden while happily singing: "Happy birthday, little ward, you may not be a lord, but you are still adored. Happy birthday, little ward, you may have never won an award, but you will never be ignored. Happy birthday, little ward, I like it that you have never snored. Happy birthday, little ward, should I take you to a fjord so it can be explored? Ha-"
"We have already understood that you know an awful lot of words rhyming with 'ward,'" Cloudia interrupted him.
He smiled at her. "I spent exactly five minutes making a list of rhyme words to 'ward,'" Barrington proudly told Cloudia and the others. "Then, I went to spend another glorious five minutes to find rhyme words to 'Cloudia,' but, unfortunately, there aren't many, so there's no song for you, Dee. Sorry."
"I can live with that."
"Are you sure? I can still write you one after you've changed your name to something which is more... 'rhymeable.' Like 'Stella' or 'Mary.'"
"Like I've said – I can absolutely live without it."
"Absolutely?"
He was sillier than usual, but he was not feeling very well today for some reason, so I decided just to play along.
"Absolutely."
"Totally and really absolutely, Cloudia?"
"Totally and really absolutely, Barrington."
He grinned at her before he turned his attention back to Kamden again. "Come, ward kiddo, open your present."
Cloudia could see the subtle uneasiness in her twin's face when he slowly and carefully unwrapped his present. Behind the orange wrapping paper with the silly bunny faces printed on it appeared a packet from a bakery which Kamden opened and revealed a big loaf of bara brith.
Bara brith was a sweet bread made with either yeast or self-raising flour and contained dried fruits and mixed spices. Traditionally, it was flavoured with tea and was also perfect to eat during tea time. The bread's name, bara brith, was Welsh and simply meant "speckled bread." Kamden had fallen in love with bara brith the first time a crumb of it had touched his lips – an event which had happened around four years ago – and, of course, his eyes widened upon seeing the loaf.
Barrington grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I am glad that you like it, Kamden," he said happily. "And, by the way, I've sent twenty loaves to your bookstore earlier. Or did you assume that I would only get you one single loaf?"
For the second time today, Kamden Sainteclare behaved completely different than he usually did. He put down his present, stood up and went to Barrington to hug him. It nearly drove Barrington to tears.
After Kamden had hugged Barrington for exactly one minute, he stepped back and returned to his seat.
I still could not believe that Barrington had managed to give Kamden a present which was not a total disaster. Or that Kamden had hugged him in return. Had the world gone insane? Apparently.
Perhaps, Barrington would give me something absolutely dreadful like socks, which had once belonged to his sister and which he had found in some dirty, dark corner of his house some days ago, to bring back the world's order. However, he did not show the slightest inclination to give me anything. Instead, Barrington's grin grew even wider – it surprised me that it did not cut his head into two unsymmetrical halves – and he asked Clifford to get a carriage ready and Kamden and me to grab our coats.
Fifteen minutes later, Barrington, Kamden and me were sitting in a carriage and were travelling towards St. Lacey. Neither Kamden nor I knew why Barrington would want to take us to St. Lacey. Sure, St. Lacey was a nice little village with approximately two hundred inhabitants, but I could still see no reason why Barrington would put Kamden's and my birthday party on hold to get there.
Barrington stopped the carriage in front of a small café called "Santagracia," and we got out.
"What are we doing here?" Cloudia asked Barrington when they had entered the café and greeted the owner, Mateo. While they walked through Santagracia, the café's guests greeted Cloudia and happily waved at her, and she responded to it. St. Lacey had been under the protection of the Phantomhive family for centuries, and thus the villagers were always very friendly to Cloudia when they met. They had been devastated when Simon had died, and Penelope had locked herself up. That their "princess" had also been imprisoned in Phantomhive Manor had not pleased the villagers. But now, Cloudia was sometimes able to go to St. Lacey which made the villagers extremely happy, although they were still sad about the fate of their patron and his wife.
"I reserved a table here," Barrington answered Cloudia while he kept on grinning.
"But we have just eaten at the manor," Cloudia stated, confused. "We could have had the birthday banquet here if you had told us about the reservation beforehand..." She lowered her voice and whispered: "Or are you the witch from Hansel and Gretel?"
He chuckled and continued to walk towards a table at the very back of the café. The instance they arrived there, Cloudia noticed that two partly disguised persons, a man, and a woman, were already sitting at the table which Barrington had seemingly reserved for them. Cloudia frowned, but when she realised who these persons actually were, she had to put her hands over her mouth to suppress a scream.
Amused by her and Kamden's reaction – his eyes had slightly widened when he had realised it too –, Barrington smiled at them before he put his attention towards the man and the woman who had stopped their conversation and were now looking at them.
"Thank you very much again for coming," Barrington said before he lowered his voice. "Mr and Mrs Dickens."
I loved Charles Dickens' works. I had loved them ever since I had first read Sketches of London No. 14, now The Four Sisters, which was one of the Sketches by Boz. My love for his works would never fade away, not even if the world crumbled away; and nothing would ever replace his works as my favourites.
Of course, I did not tell anyone, not even Kamden, about my absolute and eternal love for Dickens and his works. If he had not been eighteen years my senior and I the Watchdog, I would have tried to get him to marry me. Kamden, Barrington and everyone else thought that I just really liked his books, not that I was insanely in love with them.
Kam, who owned a bookstore, had read thousands of books and Dickens was still one of his favourite authors. He had more favourites, and more who came in his personal ranking list before Dickens, and he might not be as passionate as I was when it came to Dickens, but Kam was still very excited to meet him. Albeit it was hard to make out.
I had actually thought that Charles Dickens and his wife Catherine were still in America as they had gone there in January and had planned to return to England in June. But, apparently, Barrington had used some of the influence he had left as the former Head of the British Knights to contact Dickens and ask him to end his journey in Baltimore and come back to England for the birthday of Kamden and me.
I would have turned into a hyperactive rabbit if I had not been a Phantomhive, the next Watchdog, and if Barrington had not been on the list of suspects who could have murdered my father.
I wished that he would make it easier for me to hate him.
"You're welcome, Sir Barrington," Charles Dickens, a young man with dark hair which had been pinned up a bit and hid underneath a large hat, and dark, friendly eyes, said. "A friend of my father-in-law is a friend of mine after all." He grinned. "Besides, the trip was fairly exhausting with people turning on the streets every time I passed by. Overall, I was more disappointed in the country than amazed. Thus, I am quite glad to be finally back in England."
Wait – Barrington knew George Hogarth?!
Charles Dickens turned to Cloudia and Kamden and smiled at them. "You must be Lady Cloudia Phantomhive and Mr Kamden Sainteclare. My wife and I are very pleased to meet you." To confirm her husband's words, Catherine Dickens gave them a radiant smile.
Kamden glanced briefly at his Almost Twins, but it was enough for her to understand what he wanted to tell her. Cloudia took his hand and pulled herself together in order not to start screaming or, worse, squeaking.
"The pleasure is all ours," Cloudia firmly said, and Kamden nodded.
I was talking to Charles Dickens! I could not believe it!
Barrington, Cloudia and Kamden sat down at the table and ordered something to drink from Mateo. Charles and Catherine had already ordered some things while they had waited for them to arrive.
"Sir Barrington let us know that today was your birthday," Catherine said to Kamden and Cloudia. "Congratulations."
"Thank you, Mrs Dickens," Cloudia replied politely and Kamden nodded.
"Just call me 'Kate.' If you keep calling me like that, people could take notice of it."
"And be free to call me 'Charles' then," Charles Dickens said before he eyed Kamden and Cloudia. "You look a lot alike," he remarked. "Are you related to each other?"
"No, we are not," Cloudia answered him. "Due to some odd cosmic force, Kam and I were born with the exact same colours on the exact same day of the exact same year. We are only a couple of minutes apart. It all happened by one of the biggest chances I know. Another one is that our two little worlds managed to collide somehow, bringing us together."
Charles laughed, and Cloudia really had to struggle not to grin like an idiot.
"Oh, and before I forget to say it: You can call us just by our first names too. You can even drop the 'Sir' in front of Barrington's name." Cloudia said.
"And what if I want them to use my title when addressing me?" Barrington protested.
"Do you really want that, Barrington?"
"No," he admitted. "But I would like to know what would happen if I really did insist on it."
"Well then, Barrington," Cloudia told him, "we would have to ignore you all day long."
"You're mean, Dia," he said, and she simply shrugged, making the Dickens' chuckle softly.
"I really do not regret ending our trip in Baltimore," Charles stated. "Do you, Kate?"
She smiled and shook her head. Her curls were flung through the air. "Not at all, dear."
Charles turned his attention to Kamden. "Are you not feeling well, my boy, or why have you not said a word ever since you arrived?"
With wide eyes, Kamden looked at Cloudia who grabbed his hand again and silently asked him if it was okay to say what she wanted to say. He nodded slowly. "He is a bit embarrassed to speak," she answered Charles' question, "because he has a stutter."
Charles smiled warmly at Kamden. "But that is nothing to be ashamed of, boy," he meant. "Do you know my friend Charles West? He is a physician specialised in paediatrics and obstetrics. I am not certain if he is able to help you, but if you ever feel like your stutter is only causing you problems, and you want to make it come to an end, I could contact him for you. He is currently working at the Universal Dispensary for Children in London, so it is not that far away from St. Lacey."
Kamden's eyes widened a tiny little bit. "Tha-thank you, sir," he said which made Charles' smile grow wider. "This... this is veeery ben-benevolent of you."
"And Kamden is even living in London," Cloudia added and tightened her grip on Kamden's hand under the table.
"Oh, really? Where exactly do you live, Kamden?"
"Sou-South Ken-Kensington."
"The hospital is located in Waterloo. It is not that far away. You have to cross the Thames though. So if you want to make an appointment with West, just contact me. Your guardian knows how."
"Oh, right," Cloudia said and looked at Barrington. "How do you know George Hogarth, Barrington?"
"Mr Hogarth is amongst others a music critic. When he still worked for The Harmonicon, he often went to the Royal Opera House to see the operas and the plays." Barrington grinned. "You know, Dee, the same Royal Opera House your father frequently visited ever since 1826 because of..."
"Mother!" exclaimed Cloudia and turned the ring on her finger. "So, George Hogarth also knows my parents?"
He nodded. "Yes, he does."
"Right," Catherine Dickens said. "Your mother is Penelope Phantomhive, right?"
"Yes, she is," Cloudia answered.
"I remember accompanying my father to one of her shows," Catherine continued. "I think it was in 1827 when I was twelve? I am not sure. I only know that her performance was flawless even though I cannot remember who she even played."
"Was your... your jour-journey to Am-America truuuly as aw-awful as you have sta-stated?" Kamden wanted to know, changing the topic.
"It was indeed, boy," Charles responded. "For example, slavery still exists there which is very, very horrible. Kate and I went to Richmond to see it at first-hand; and as if the fact that slavery is still existing is not bad enough, the slaves' conditions are awful as they are treated terribly by their masters. The attitude of these people towards slavery is horrifying, and there are newspaper accounts everywhere about runaway slaves who were disfigured by their masters. But the Americans do not only attack their slaves, but they also attack everything and everyone with guns and knives. The USA is a country of violence, and if you ever decided to go there, children, I advise you to stick to cities like Boston. Boston was one of the American cities we actually enjoyed.
"I took a lot of notes during our trip and plan to turn them into a book. If everything goes well, it could even come out later this year. Ah, come to think of it," Charles gazed at Kamden, "there is a bookstore in South Kensington called Sainteclare – is it just coincidence or does the store belong to your family?"
"It beeelongs to my fam-family," Kamden replied.
"Good to know. I have come across it a few times but never entered it – if I had, we would have met way earlier. I think I should definitely go there someday."
"Yes, you should," Cloudia said while nodding. "Kam's bookstore is very beautiful and charming as it is so small. You will love it."
Charles laughed. "I'm sure you are right, Cloudia."
She smiled and asked: "So the next book you will publish will be a travelogue. Do you already have plans for other future books of yours?"
"Oh, of course." He chuckled. "My brain is full of ideas, and there is one particular idea which I think is one of my greatest, perhaps even the greatest of them all. I cannot wait to put it to paper. Speaking of books..." Charles turned around and grabbed a paper bag. He put it on the table and got out a copy of Oliver Twist. Then, he searched for something in his pockets.
"Kate?" Charles asked. "Do you happen to have a pen with you?"
Catherine shook her head. "I am sorry, Darling, I don't."
"Can I help?" Barrington said and handed Charles a pen, grinning.
"Thank you," Charles replied while taking it, and he opened the copy of Oliver Twist.
"You're welcome." Barrington leaned back, still grinning broadly.
"Cloudia," Charles said with a smile on his lips. "Barrington told me you are fond of my books?"
"Fond? Fond? I am absolutely and insanely in love with them. The stars may fade away one day, but your books will always have a special place in my heart," I wanted to say, but decided against it.
"I am," Cloudia said instead, turning the blue ring.
"So, does it mean that I am right in the assumption that you are already in possession of a copy of Oliver Twist?"
She nodded. "I bought it on the release day."
"And that this exact copy is not signed and that you would like it to be?" Charles wrote something inside the book and handed it to her. Cloudia's eyes widened. "I am sorry, Cloudia, but as I guess that you do not have your copy with you, can I simply give you a new, signed one instead of signing the copy you already have?"
"Yes, of course," she almost screamed and took the book, holding it tightly against her chest. "Thank you, thank you very much. I cannot thank you enough. Thank you, thank you..."
Charles laughed. "No need to thank me, Cloudia."
I had not only met Charles Dickens – he had even given me a signed book!
Was I dreaming? If yes, I would like to stay in this dream forever.
But you can't, the nasty little voice in my head said. You can't run away from the reality where your father was most likely murdered by his best friend who is sitting right next to you.
Cloudia, you are sitting next to a potential murderer. To the man who could have taken everything away from you. To the man responsible for your mother's state, for your misery.
Imagine. If he had not taken your father away from you, the manor would still be filled with joy. You would have never met Agatha and had to say goodbye to Mabel, Nelson and the others. You would possibly have little siblings, and your parents would have taken in Kamden. And there would be no void in your head which could suck you inside of it.
But this man has made it impossible for you to be happy again. This is the reality, and you should never run away from it.
Because you would only run in vain.
Charles turned to Kamden, while Cloudia was pushing away the words of the nasty voice but it still spoke silently to her at the back of her head. Cloudia, Cloudia, Cloudia, you cannot run away from the demons of reality...
"Of course, Kate and I did not forget you, Kamden." Charles reached into the paper bag again and got out a bag which he gave to Kamden who took it and bowed his head in gratitude. "Barrington told us that you prefer getting sweets," Charles continued. "Therefore, we got you some American sweets. I hope you like them."
"Thaaaank you ve-very much," Kamden said politely.
We talked with Mr and Mrs Dickens about everything we could think of in the following hours. They told us more about America, and Barrington also told us a few stories about this place. Apparently, he had made a journey around the world in 1825.
Kamden told Mr and Mrs Dickens about his bookstore and about Wales, and I told them about fencing after Barrington had addressed it. It was fun, and we wished that we could have talked even more, but the time eventually came for us to go. Kamden, Barrington and I had to return to the manor, and the Dickens' had to return to their little children who were awaiting them in London.
We said goodbye and went our own ways.
I held Oliver Twist tightly against my body when we drove back to Phantomhive Manor. My heart beat fast against the hard paper.
Cloudia started to laugh uncontrollably as soon as they stepped out of the carriage. The sky above them was dark, and here and there stars shone faintly when Cloudia's laughter echoed through the cold night's air and through the forest of darkness surrounding them.
Kamden watched his twin with wide eyes until Cloudia suddenly embraced him in a tight hug, still laughing, still holding Oliver Twist. With warmth running through his body and a smile appearing on his lips, Kamden hugged her back. The Almost Twins held onto each other while they walked towards the manor's entrance, Cloudia still radiating with happiness like Barrington and Kamden had not seen it for a very long time.
The instance they stepped over the doorsill of Phantomhive Manor, Cloudia's angelic laugh ebbed away as if it had never been there in the first place.
They had a very light dinner, considering that they had eaten so much in the past hours. Cloudia had put her new copy of Oliver Twist in a safe right after they had come back. It was only temporary, of course. Such beauty should not be locked away in a dark place after all.
Now, she was sitting with the others in the dining hall again, eating soup. The day had been great, the day had been fun, but now in the evening, the dark thoughts Cloudia had pushed back when they had been Santagracia had returned. This time, intenser than ever. The nasty voice hammered against her head and wanted attention, causing Cloudia's head to start hurting badly. Ask him, the voice demanded indispensably. Ask him about everything. You have every right in the world to know. Cloudia fought against it, but, eventually, she could not stand it anymore and put down her spoon.
"Barrington?" she said, and he looked up. "What is the matter, Dee?"
"Why were you travelling around the world in 1825? Were you not already an Aristocrat of Evil at that time?"
"Why were you not there on the day Father died? Were you not supposed to be by his side?"
Barrington's eyes widened for a split second. "Yes, I was already an Evil Nobleman at that time, but I had still left Simon alone for over half a year because I wanted to learn martial arts in the countries they originated from."
"And which martial art did you learn in the east coast of the USA?"
"Why did you come back two days later? And why did Theresa Dale disappear to America on the same day?"
"None," Barrington answered, frowning. "I went there to visit one of my cousins. Why do you want to know all these things anyway, Dee?"
"Because I have to make sure that you are not the murderer of my father."
"Because you never mentioned this trip to me before," Cloudia replied.
Barrington laughed. "You sound like a jealous fiancée or wife, Dee."
"Speaking of wife – what happened to Samantha and you?"
"Actually," Cloudia added bitterly, "you never tell me anything. For example, you never tell me anything about my father."
His eyes widened. "De-"
She glared at him. "Every time I ask you of him, you only tell me general things which could apply to anyone like 'He was really nice' or 'He was a good man,' or you avoid my question. You never tell me anything specific. No matter how often I ask you."
"Dee – what got into you?"
"What got into me?" Cloudia stood up. Her legs were shaking, but nobody could see it because of the table. Good, good, go on, said the nasty, stupid, annoying voice. Cloudia did not want to obey the voice – today was Kamden's and her birthday, and Barrington was not feeling very well because of some reason –, but she still did. "Soon, Father will be dead for eight years. Almost eight years have passed, and still, nobody knows who murdered him. I am just saying that we would have found out who the culprit has been if you had told me more about my father. Or are you hiding anything from me?"
I couldn't cry. I couldn't cry. I couldn't cry. Not right now. Not in front of them.
"Cloudia, you know wh...," Barrington started, but she interrupted him again.
"Because Aunt Eleanor said so? Because some stupid Zounderkite of a physician said so?" Cloudia clenched her fists. "Neither Eleanor nor some doctor, especially not you, have the right to decide this. It is my right. Mine and mine alone. I am twelve years old now. I am old enough to make decisions. Goddammit, I will be the Watchdog soon, Barrington. I am not the helpless, little child which I had been on that day anymore. I have grown up. I am strong enough to know the truth."
Barrington rose up from his chair too, letting it fall over and startling Kamden who had already begun to feel very, very uncomfortable.
"You do not know what you are saying," Barrington replied. "I saw you back then. At Simon's funeral. I've heard about everything from Eleanor. I don't want to see you like that ever again, Dia. Nobody wants to. Please understand that."
"I can handle it," Cloudia meant, clenching her fists tighter.
He shook his head. "No, you can't. You are still not old, still not strong enough. You still have the a..."
"I DO NOT CARE," she yelled, and Kamden covered his ears. "I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THAT. I DON'T CARE IF I'M TRAPPED FOR WEEKS OR EVEN MONTHS AND YEARS."
Barrington started to walk around the table. "Cloudia, please understand it, we only want the best for you. Because we love you."
Cloudia jerked back. "No," she replied, her voice full of bitterness. "No, you don't. If you would, you would not keep any secrets from me." Then, she turned around and ran out of the dining hall.
If the Royal adviser had seen me, the girl who would become the Watchdog some time in the next few months, behaving like an emotionally unstable brat, they would have given up everything they possessed to make sure that my decoration would never happen.
I ran through the manor until I found an entrance to the secret passages which ran through the entire building. Blindly, I walked through the secret passages and left them randomly. Then, I kept hurrying through the mansion until I somehow arrived in the gallery.
The gallery was a place in the back area where paintings of every Phantomhive decorated the walls. Cloudia lit up the huge room, and golden light illuminated every nook and cranny. The walls had been painted with a pale golden tone, and faint white patterns trailed over the walls. The paintings, however, were mostly of a darker colour and the frames were always made of dark wood, wherefore the walls and the paintings contrasted intensely with one another.
Cloudia walked through the hall and noticed that while nobody usually entered the gallery, everything was free of dust. She crossed a picture of Bartholomew Phantomhive whose blue eyes, which were even darker than hers, stared right at her. He had had blond hair, and Cloudia had always been fascinated by the fact that Phantomhives had had blond hair until Octavius Phantomhive had married black-haired Florence Kingston. She had always associated her family with darker colours – perhaps this was also connected to the circumstance that her grandfather, her father and she herself had pitch black hair.
She continued to walk through the gallery and saw portraits of Ellis, Caterina and Aurelia Phantomhive and many others among the traditional paintings of the family head, his wife and the head butler. For example, there was a picture of her grandparents, Percival and Genevieve, together with Percival's butler Waylon Poole. Eventually, Cloudia stopped in front of a painting which she knew very well.
It was one of her father, Simon Phantomhive.
In the years after Penelope had locked herself up shortly after the funeral, Cloudia had come here as often as she could. She had stood in front of the painting for hours and had done nothing else but to stare at it.
She could not remember her father's face; and even when she looked at a picture of him and knew that the man in the picture was her father, his face did not reappear in her memories. Cloudia had made a mental note of Simon's face on the painting, of every feature of his which had been immortalised in paint, but the huge grey area in her memories still wouldn't get filled. It was as if her father had never really existed at all.
The last time, Cloudia had been here she had not even been six years old. She had often had little attacks while staring at the picture for too long, but it had never stopped her to go there. But when Cloudia had gone to the gallery a few weeks before turning six, the attack she had experienced had been one of her worst. Nothing had happened in months, and everyone had thought that she had finally got well again, but then she had had this relapse...
Ever since that day, Cloudia had not been allowed to enter the gallery.
Now, she was gazing up again at the picture of Simon Phantomhive, and it was as it had always been. Her father was sitting in a simple chair in the middle of a strange, round room with many high windows. The light was coming through the windows and shone right at Simon. He wore dark clothes, and his black hair was messy. And while he was looking to the front, Simon's eyes were unfocused. Also, even though the light was illuminated him, his green eyes were blank. Besides him and the chair, there was nothing else in the room.
Cloudia had always wondered who had drawn this picture, but the painter's signature was so messy that she could only make out the initials: H.P.
For a few seconds, Cloudia looked at the painting before taking a deep breath, her heart racing in her chest, and speaking up: "Hello, Father."
This was incredibly childish of me, and thus it was another reason why the Royal advisers would simply shake their heads at me if they had seen me right now. After all, I was talking to an image of all things.
"Long time no see," Cloudia said, clutching her shaking hands together and not taking off her gaze once from her father's face. "Father, I turned twelve years old today. Mother is still locked up in her chambers. She did not even come out to congratulate me." She paused. Her headache from earlier had slowly got stronger. "A letter from the royal house is expected to be sent to us in the next few days. It will contain the fixed date for my decoration. In about a month, I will officially succeed you as the Head of the Phantomhive family and as the Watchdog."
She slowly breathed in and out, but her chest started to hurt with every breath and her heart beat faster. "I am celebrating my birthday with Clifford, Kamden and Barrington. Barrington took Kamden and me to meet Charles Dickens and his wife. It was amazing."
Cloudia held her head while trying to catch her breath. She felt dizzy from the headache. "But... But I cannot ignore the fact that Barrington was not at the townhouse on the day you were killed even though he should have been. And this fact won't let me forget it. All I can think of is that he could have murdered you. Or that he could have been involved at least. Barrington was your best friend, and he helped me so much in the last six years, but I still cannot let go of this thought and trust him unconditionally." Cloudia ran a hand over her face. Now, she could barely see the painting, only Simon's green eyes were clear to her. "Or Theresa Dale. She had gone to America on the same day Barrington had come to the townhouse – two days after your death." She put one hand on her chest. It hurt so much now. Blurry pictures started to fill Cloudia's head. Pictures which had appeared to her so often, but which she still could not see clearly.
"How terrible it would be if two persons you have trusted so much had helped to plot or execute your death.
"My aunts, my uncles, Barrington... They do not want to tell me anything about you or about that day. I wish so desperately that they would be honest to me, so we would finally know who the culprit was," Cloudia managed to say before she collapsed. However, she did not fall to the ground but right into two arms.
I was locked up again. The same place, the same time. I looked around, but I could see nothing. Everything was too blurry to make out. Only a green light was clear to me.
When Cloudia woke up, she still could not see very clearly, and she was still feeling like being on fire.
Where am I? I thought.
"Gla-Gladdy?" Cloudia heard someone call her. There was only one person in the entire world who called her that and it was...
Kamden. Kamden was sitting on the ground of the gallery – I could now remember that I had gone to the gallery earlier –, and I was lying in his arms. His hair was even more dishevelled than usual, and his skin looked paler. Worry laid heavily like a dark cloud in Kamden's eyes.
"Kammie?" Cloudia struggled to say, her voice rough. Kamden buried his face in her hair and held her tighter. "Gla-Gladdy, Gla-Gladdy...," he repeated like a mantra to stay sane. "You aare all ri-right..."
She wanted to say something, but no words left her mouth.
"It... it is all ri-right," Kamden said as if he had read her mind and held her a bit away from him. "You need to, to re-rest." He leaned her against a wall and took off his jacket which he put around her body.
"I am sorry, Kamden," it finally blurted out of Cloudia. Every word still hurt, but she had to say all these things now. "I am sorry for yelling at dinner although I know very well that you hate it when it's loud. I am sorry for attacking Barrington today of all days. I am sorry for you having seen me like this today. I am sorry for ruining your birthday..." For the first time in forever, tears glittered in Cloudia's eyes before they silently ran down her cheeks.
I could not remember the last time I had cried. I only knew that I had never cried after meeting Kamden. And it did not matter if I had started to cry because of my physical and emotional condition right now. Tears were still running uncontrollably down my cheeks.
Without a word, Kamden brushed away her tears even though he must have been shaken by the sight of his strong sister crying. Then, he took her hand and squeezed it.
"Can... can I lea-leave you for a wh... while?" Kamden asked her. That the thought of having to leave for even a second while Cloudia was in this state did not please him was obvious.
She nodded weakly and Kamden leaned forward to kiss her forehead. He quickly squeezed her hand once again before standing up and hurrying out of the gallery.
A few minutes later, Kamden came back with a cup of hot milk and honey, and to Cloudia's relief, he was alone. She did not want Clifford or Barrington to see her right now too. Especially not Barrington.
He sat down next to Cloudia and gave her the cup, but when Kamden saw her shaking hands, he held the cup against her mouth so she could drink. When she was done, he put the cup on the ground, leaned against the wall and hugged her from the side. Then, Kamden put his head on her shoulder.
"You di-did nooot ru... ruin any-anything. I... I am hap-happy that we cou-could spend the daay to-together." He dug his fingers in her clothes and pulled her closer, not caring that her body was still hot and shaking. Cloudia leaned her head against his while her tears kept ruining quietly.
On the next day, the Queen's letter arrived.
I planned a lot for this story, and I try to work as often as possible on it, so you don't have to wait for an update so long. I am in my last year of school and have to hand in a very big essay in December, working on original stories and I am currently getting treatment for my disorder, but I will always try to find time to write Watchdog of the Queen, because I really, really like working on it.
Also, I've thought about renaming Miss Peregrine's School for Fine Ladies here and on AO3 to just Untold Stories, so I don't overflow the sites with thousands of separate stories. In-between the updates of the main story, I could upload little extras to the Untold Stories to make the wait more pleasant or something like that. Such like The Amazing Grim Reaper, some shorts called "The Lady, Childhood," and some funny little AUs (for example a "Modern AU"). Miss Peregrine's School for Fine Ladies and all the side stories would also be uploaded to the comprehensive Untold Stories. But I am not really sure about that… Please tell me what you think about it.
Furthermore, I am currently revising the first arc. Correcting mistakes (I made some horrible, HORRIBLE mistakes sometimes), rewriting some parts a bit and adding some new lines. I am doing it because I want to turn it into a nice pdf for everyone to download. (And because I want to replace the old chapter with the updated ones.)
So there's a lot to look forward. There are "only" two and a half chapters to go until the second arc is finished and the third (where Cedric/Undertaker finally appears again, I miss him so much) can begin.
I hope you are patient with me and my really slow updates. ^^' (I am so sorry about that…) And that you are fine with just getting half a chapter after such a long time. (I thought that one half is better than no chapter.)
The next chapter of Miss Peregrine's School for Fine Ladies will also be a split chapter, but the first part is not ready right now because there were a few discrepancies with it.
I hope you liked the update, and see you next time! (Until then, I will upload some "background" things on my tumblr "tothelasthoursofmylife" and, perhaps, some things to the Untold Stories.)