Long time no see, huh?
I will talk about various things in the endnotes (for example why this chapter isn't called "The Lady, Decorated - Part 2" anymore!), so I don't start talking and talking before you could enjoy this chapter. And I hope you do after the overly long wait which I am sorry for.
Chapter Fourteen:
The Lady, Thirteen Days
"The time had come – in a few days it would be done."
London, England, United Kingdom – April 1842
When I thought of London, not the many beautiful and historical buildings, the crowds of people, the cultural diversity, or the city's liveliness came to my mind, but the smell.
The smell of London was a very terrible one. It was even more awful than the worst smell you could imagine. It was the kind of smell which did not only make you want to throw up or wish to have been born without a nose but which was also capable of making you ill. The smell coming from the Thames had turned the air of London into miasma which brought horrible diseases with it.
A long time ago, the Thames had been clean, but now it was filled with human excrement, corpses of animals, horse and cattle manure, and rotten food which had been washed into the Thames by the rain. Especially, after more and more people had come to London, the state of the Thames gradually became worse and worse. The 200 000 cesspits were overflowing, and so were the sewers which had not been built for such an exorbitant amount of waste.
It was a miracle that some organisms could still live in it.
For someone who had grown up in the countryside, in a mansion surrounded by trees, it was always a shock to enter London after being able to breathe fresh, clean air permanently.
Even now when I was sitting in a carriage which was bringing me to the Phantomhive townhouse, I was not safe from the Thames' smell. In almost two weeks, I would be decorated as the Queen's Watchdog. The ceremony would be held at Buckingham Palace. Therefore, I had to move to the townhouse for a couple of days. I was very excited and tense, not only because of the decoration, but also because this was the second time after my father's death that I would enter the townhouse, and the first time since...
And, perhaps, I was also a bit tense because I was driving to the townhouse with Barrington.
It was unheard of that a girl inherited a title. If a nobleman only had a daughter, his title would be passed down to either his younger brother or his eldest nephew who would not inherit a title from his father.
But the Phantomhives held a special position in society, and this special position had allowed me to break the rules and inherit the title of the Countess of Phantomhive. However, the public was not aware of the duty the Phantomhive family held to the crown and the United Kingdom, and thus, to the public, it would be a shock and a scandal if they found out that I, as a girl, was to inherit a title.
Well, but they would not find out about it.
Ever since my conversation with Her Majesty the Queen a few years ago, I had pondered over a solution for this problem: How could I be Countess without society finding out about the Phantomhives' position as the Watchdog?
Easy. I would just have to become the Countess of Phantomhive without anyone knowing about it. But how could I officially become it someday and save my family's title from becoming extinct? The solution to this problem was also quite easy: I simply needed to fake a relative who would "inherit" the title from my father. And, one day, when I had encountered the perfect husband for me I would have to convince him to leave his identity behind and become said false relative of mine.
With this in mind, I had worked on a suitable, plausible story to explain the sudden appearance of a "secret male relative."
My grandmother, Genevieve Phantomhive, had adored my father and grandfather. But my grandfather, Percival Phantomhive, had been known to leave his wife and son behind, travel around the world, and drown himself in work. Spreading the lie that my grandparents had secretly divorced and that my grandfather had, also secretly, married anew and said second marriage had resulted in another son, was therefore as easy as solving the Sphinx' riddle. According to this lie, Percival Phantomhive had had two legitimate sons – both in the position to inherit. And before dying due to an illness his younger son had had a son – my "cousin," the next Earl of Phantomhive, and my "fiancé."
If I had found a husband who was willing to accept my requirements, I would automatically become the Countess of Phantomhive – again. After all, at that time I would have already held this title for a fairly long time.
To complete my plan and to show the aristocrats that I had a paternal cousin, I would be decorated twice – first as the Countess, then as the Earl in the disguise of a boy.
Phantomhive Manor was a huge Elizabethan building – rising from a glade in a forest like a majestic castle of shadows. To the people in St. Lacey, the manor was a castle as it was the residence of their patron.
The townhouse was remarkably different to the manor. It was small and did not possess any of the distinct features Phantomhive Manor had. While the manor stood out in the forest, the townhouse was plain and hid itself between the other villas in the road. Still, Cloudia was amazed by it when they drove through the narrow black portal. Then the carriage came to a halt, and Clifford helped her to exit.
While the servants were busy unloading their luggage, Cloudia could not help running up the stairs to the entrance door. But the instance she opened it, the small smile which had sneaked on her lips faded.
"There you are, Cloudia," Penelope Phantomhive said from the doorsill.
This was the second time after Father's death that she had left her chambers. The last time had already felt surreal to me as I could not comprehend that she, my mother, was finally standing in front of me again, but this time, it felt even more like a distant dream.
"Well..." Cloudia started. "What brings you here, Mother?"
After the initial shock of Penelope's presence in the townhouse, Clifford had hurried to prepare the drawing room for them to sit and talk. Now, Barrington, Cloudia, and Penelope were gathered around a large round table while Clifford and Grace Nullings, Penelope's maid, were silently standing in the background.
"I am not the kind of mother who misses her only daughter's decoration," Penelope answered, raising a cup to her lips.
Cloudia nearly laughed at her mother's words. "But why did you not inform Clifford or me?"
Penelope set down her cup, looking straight into her daughter's eyes through her mourning veil. "In two weeks I will cease to be it, but right now, I am still the Countess of Phantomhive," she said, "and I do not need permission to go anywhere from anyone."
"It would have still been great if you had told me anything," Cloudia replied. "I am certain that you would not be very fond of it if I was to take Clifford and leave without telling anyone beforehand."
"Do not be silly, Cloudia. I would have never let you leave without permission in the first place."
"And how will you do it if I am to leave in secret as you did? If I secretly run away at night without anyone knowing about it?"
"Cloudia, dear – I am the Interim Head of the Phantomhive family, I know very well what is going on in the manor. I have my eyes everywhere."
What about the countless times Agatha tormented me? What about my screams? My breakdown in the gallery? The Queen's falcon bringing me a letter and me leaving to meet her? Did you see and hear all these things too, Mother?
And if yes, why did you do nothing?
"How long were you here?" Cloudia wanted to know, changing the topic.
"Two days, and this was not the most formidable way of changing the topic of our conversation, my dear." Penelope rose from her chair and headed towards the door. "Grace? It is time to go."
Grace briefly bowed before following her mistress out of the parlour. As soon as they were gone, Cloudia breathed out. "I did not imagine that she would come here," she stated, leaning against the chair's backrest.
"She is even more problematic than before," Barrington pointed out, shaking his head. "I wanted to hop into the conversation, but I was afraid that she would devour me without blinking even once if I did."
"What if she messes up everything again?" Cloudia asked. "The last time, she came out, she ruined my chance to introduce myself properly to the Queen and talk to her. She dragged me out of the palace in front of a hundred people for damn's sake. What if she does something like that again? Only very few, selected individuals will be at my rightful decoration, but many will come to 'Lord Phantomhive's' decoration. I cannot allow her to taint my reputation any further – no matter if she is my mother or not."
"Oh the matter of the false fiancé," Barrington said, grinding his teeth. "I am still not very pleased about the fact that the Queen fabricated such a story to distract others from you. I did not know Percival Phantomhive very well, but Genevieve was like a second mother to me. I do not care what others might have thought about their relationship, but Percival would have never done something like this to his wife and son. In his odd, aloof way, he loved them both."
They knew about the lie, but I had never told them that it had been my idea and not the Queen's.
I wondered what they would think and say if, one day, they found out.
"And what this means to you, Dia!" Barrington continued, enraged. "Nobody will ever ask for your hand in marriage because everyone will think that you are already promised. You will never be able to love someone freely because you can only marry someone who is completely content with eradicating his own existence and putting on the hollow mask of the 'Earl of Phantomhive.' But who would ever agree to something like that? Who will love you for countless years, knowing that you have destroyed his own life? There are not a lot of people who would give up their existence – not even for someone they love." He ran a hand through his hair. "And Si would have never engaged you to someone when you were still a child, Dee. He would have never shackled you to someone whom you may never love. I know that very well."
Clifford clapped his hands together and emerged from the shadows. "Sir Barrington, the Young Lady and you have a long journey behind you. Instead of getting agitated and clouding your minds with such dark thoughts, you should rest. The next days until the Young Lady's decorations will be filled with work. It is best to get some rest when you still have the opportunity to do it." He walked to Cloudia and offered her an arm to help her stand up. "I do not want to give you a lecture, but please keep in mind, Young Lady, that your mother has lost someone she loved to the duty you will inherit in a few weeks. You should always consider every side of a coin before judging a situation or person, Young Lady."
Cloudia smiled faintly at him and took his arm.
I knew that Clifford was right. Of course, I did. But part of me still loathed my mother for abandoning me.
"Lulu!" Constantia cried out and ran towards Cloudia, embracing her. "We haven't seen each other in ages!" She stepped back and held her cousin at arm's length. "You have grown so much! And you are so much prettier than the last time I have seen you!"
Four days after arriving in London with Barrington and Clifford, it was time for the rest of my family to come. Aunt Eleanor and her family were the first. They used to be the ones I had been able to see more or less regularly while being part of the Phantomhive System. Still, the last time I had seen them had been three years ago.
"You have also grown a lot," Cloudia remarked, freeing herself from Constantia's arms.
She was still as loud as ever. And she was still using this ridiculous nickname for me. Had time stood still for her over all these years?
"I have missed you so much," Constantia continued, beaming. "I have so many things to tell you!" She linked arms with Cloudia and walked into the entrance hall of the townhouse. "But first of all – did you like the present I have sent to you for your birthday? I have waited for you to write a letter, telling me how you liked you, but it never came, and I wondered if you simply forgot it because you are always so incredibly busy. I am not angry at you if you did."
I froze. Present? Which present? I thought until my busy mind came to only one logical conclusion: Agatha. How could this hag dare to withhold something which was addressed to me?
I could not await it to go back to the manor.
"I am sorry, Constantia," Cloudia replied, "but, just like you have assumed, I have been too busy to write to you. But I have really liked your present."
She smiled at her. "I am glad to hear that."
"By the way, where is Celeste? I haven't seen her coming out of the carriage."
"She is sick," Constantia told her, her eyes sad. "We could not take her with us, but she will come as soon as she is feeling better. Lessie would never forgive herself if she did not come for your special day." She took Cloudia's hand and dragged her upstairs. "But now, let us talk about everything!"
Cloudia pulled herself away from Constantia. "I am sorry, Constantia," she said, going downstairs again, "but I cannot chat with you right now. The others will come soon, and I have to greet them. Also, there are many preparations to be made – I do not have the time to hide under blankets and talk and giggle through the entire rest of day and night."
Not now and not in the future.
"Is it because of what happened the last time we were here?" Constantia called after her, and Cloudia stopped in the middle of the stairs. "If yes, I will apologise again. I still regret what I did to you, Clou, I really do. We were children, and I did not know what consequences my actions would have. I am sorry, Clou. If I could turn back time, I would undo it. But I cannot. I cannot undo what has already happened; I can only apologise for doing it in the first place."
Cloudia turned back to her cousin, glaring at her. "Could you please stop overly interpreting everything, Constantia? I have told you the reason why we cannot sit down and talk. Why do you have to bring back this topic again? Why do you have to bring back this topic out of the blue like that? Does that make you happy in some cruel, twisted way, Constantia Matthews?"
I took a deep breath. Calm down, Cloudia, I told myself. Do not get agitated about that. It is not worth it.
Without saying anything more, Cloudia walked down the rest of the stairs and greeted the newly arrived Morrows.
I wanted Kamden with me.
I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I had let dinner be brought to my room because I did not want to get a headache from my family. Especially, I did not want to see Constantia. Or sit at the table, wondering when my aunts would find out that their dear, fourth sister was with us but in another room.
The townhouse was filled with people, but the only one who I really wanted to be here could not come.
"You are so pathetic, Cloudia," she told herself and rolled herself off from the bed.
I would be the Watchdog in less than two weeks. I should not want to have anybody with me. I should not need anybody to comfort me.
There was a knock on the door. "You may enter," Cloudia called and sat down on a chair. Clifford entered and bowed before closing the door.
"Young Lady, how are you feeling?" he asked.
"I do not have a headache, Clifford," she said, smiling. "Do not worry; I am fine. I simply feared that I would get a headache if I dined with my family."
"For once, I am not meaning that, Young Lady," Clifford replied, surprising her. "I mean how you are feeling about becoming Her Majesty the Queen's Watchdog in ten days. I hope, Mylady, that I am not offending you with my question, stepping over boundaries servants should never cross, but it occurred to me that you may want to talk about it."
"How often do I have to tell you, Clifford, that you are not simply a servant? I consider you more my family than my actual relatives.
"And I am fine. You really do not have to worry about me, Clifford."
Clifford lowered his head. "I know that you are not comfortable to speak to anyone about your thoughts and feelings, that you prefer to keep them to yourself. But I want you to know that I am certain that you will be a wonderful Watchdog, that you have been worthy all along to be it – and to be called 'Mistress.'"
I flinched. How did he know? I had never told anyone that me thinking that "mistress" was a word too strong to describe me was the reason why I insisted that nobody called me that.
"I know that you are thinking differently," Clifford continued, taking the empty tray, "but we all have faith in you – you are stronger than you believe you are." He bowed again. "I wish you a refreshing sleep, Young Mistress," he said before leaving the room.
"I am certain that you will be a wonderful Watchdog, that you have been worthy all along to be it – and to be called 'Mistress.'"
Clifford's words simply would not leave me. Days had passed since he had spoken them, and I still could not stop thinking about what he had said.
In seven days was my decoration and in eight the "Earl's." And with every passing day, with every day which brought us closer to the decoration, things became more and more hectic.
"I think a dress made of the green velvet you have shown us earlier would suit her very well," Felicity Morrow who stood against a wall with crossed arms meant.
"This one, Viscountess?" a young tailor assistant named Natalie asked, holding up a piece of fabric against Cloudia.
Today, the palace had sent someone to take my measures and make first drafts of my two decoration clothes – and my aunts were being overly excited about it.
"No, the green is a little bit too light and would definitely look strange on Dia as she rarely wears green," Barrington disagreed. "Furthermore, the colour is too incompatible with her skin- and eye-colour – it could make her look sickly."
And somehow, Barrington had managed to sneak into the dressing room.
"Then, how about this one?" Natalie suggested, putting away the green fabric and holding a lavender-coloured material with a faint, white pattern against Cloudia.
"Cloudia would look like a princess in a dress with this colour," Joanna Woodward meant from the chair she was sitting on. "I think we should take it."
Eleanor Matthews shook her head. "We cannot let her look like a princess, Jo," she replied, "it would be inappropriate for this occasion. Personally, I think we should take a blue dress because blue fits very well with her eyes and it is basically the family colour of the Phantomhives."
"But then we have to choose the blue tone very wisely, Ellie," Joanna said. "It has to be a nuance which supports the colour of her eyes and does not weaken it. And as her eyes are already so dark, her dress should be lighter, but if the blue is too light it will not look good against her pale skin..."
"No, not a pale colour, Jo," Felicity cut in. "She should wear a simple dress in a more vibrant colour. She is going to be the Watchdog and not the Queen of the Seelie Court after all."
"Excuse me?" Cloudia raised her voice, but her aunts and Barrington kept arguing with one another. "Excuse me," she repeated, this time with a louder voice, and they collectively turned their gazes to her.
"You keep forgetting about me," Cloudia said. "I am not a dress-up doll. It would be wonderful if you listened to my opinion too. I think your suggestions are all lovely and well-thought, but I had already made my decision twenty minutes ago when you argued about if or if not my dress should have stripes."
Eleanor frowned. "You have already chosen?"
Cloudia nodded. "Yes, I have. I was thinking about a cream-coloured dress."
"But your skin, it is–"
"I know; it is too pale. Therefore, I was thinking about the fabric being partially decorated with rose prints, and the bodice being covered in black lace."
"A dress resembling the dress of a debutante," Joanna said with shining grey eyes and gleefully clapped her hands together, "with a touch of fairy tale magic – 'for she was even now as white as snow, and as red as blood, and as black as ebony.' I think this is a lovely idea, Cloudia! And how about you, Ella? Fely? Sir Barrington?"
"I still believe that a simple, one-coloured dress would be better," Felicity meant, "but just like she has said, in the end, it is Cloudia's decision to make."
Eleanor sighed. "Of course, it is. But this is a very formal and very important event, and choosing a gown with elements of a debutante and fairy tale dress does not seem appropriate enough. A simple but beautiful dress like Fely suggested would be fitting, and it being in her family colours would a good choice because of the alliance which will be made on that day – the renewed alliance between the Royal and the Phantomhive family."
"Ella, it is not right to say that it is indeed Cloudia's decision when you still step over her wishes," Joanna replied.
"I am not stepping over Cloudia, Joanna, I only want the best for her." Eleanor pinched her nose. "This day has to be flawless in every point for Cloudia's sake after all."
Joanna stood up, walked to her sister and took her hands. "Ella, we know that, of course, we do, but just like we cannot, we will not ignore your wishes, we cannot close our ears to Cloudia's. We need to find a compromise."
"How about Dia wearing the dress she wants, and 'the Lord' wearing simple clothes in blue and black?" Barrington suggested. "Dia's proposal was, in my opinion, appropriate enough for the decoration. More or less officially, it will be her debut at court after all, and with the Snow White theme, the dress will be all her own too. Also, there will be significantly more people at 'the Lord's' decoration. Choosing clothes with a slightly stronger symbolic meaning would be better for this occasion. Furthermore, Dee cannot wear basically the same things on both days – it would look cheap and would not separate her from the fictional 'Lord of Phantomhive.' The alliance is an essential aspect of the decoration but is even more important to underline Dia's individuality – that she is, despite the alliance, an independent person and not the Queen's marionette."
Felicity nodded. "Sir Barrington is absolutely right. I agree with him on all his terms."
"Thanks, Felcy," Barrington said, smiling. "I am glad that someone appreciates my thoughts."
"I do not appreciate all of them," Felicity replied, glaring at him. "And do not call me 'Felcy.'"
"You, your sister – I mean Penelope, of course –, and Dia are sometimes scarily alike, Viscountess of Wellington," he mumbled.
"This is what you call 'family resemblance,' Barrington," Cloudia told him. "Besides, I congratulate you on making the first useful suggestion in your entire life."
"I still cannot understand how you could turn out so much like your mother when you rarely got to see her." Barrington shook his head.
"Oh god, we still have to sort out everything concerning 'the Lord,'" Eleanor said, sighing and pinching her nose again. "What should we do about him? Cast a boy around Cloudia's age to play the role?"
"I know someone we could use as the fake Lord," Barrington whispered, and no one but Cloudia understood the meaning of his words. Her eyes widened.
Kamden. He meant Kamden.
Anger took over her body in the same overwhelming manner than it had a month ago. Immediately, Cloudia grabbed her skirts and rushed towards Barrington, not caring about Natalie who had got startled by her sudden movement.
"Do not dare to pull him into this!" Cloudia yelled at him, pointing her index finger at him, her body working all on its own. Of course, she knew where she was, and that almost her entire family was inside this room, but... but do you really want to stop yourself by the etiquette when it is about this matter? When it concerns the only person you can even partially entrust your heart with? When it concerns the person you love the most? the voice in her head interrupted Cloudia's other thoughts. Sometimes, it is worth it to ignore manners and etiquette for once.
"We have talked about this!" blurted the words out of her. "And if you even waste a single thought of pulling him into this matter, I will..."
Cloudia stopped, pressing her lips together. Instead of continuing to talk, she looked at Barrington with an ice-cold gaze even though she was bristling with anger.
Barrington stared at her, his pale green eyes widened. "Were you just about to threaten me?" he whispered, disbelief in his voice which was so low that only Cloudia could hear him.
"And you were just about to drag an innocent civilian into Watchdog affairs, Sir Barrington Weaselton," she harshly replied, her gaze becoming even colder.
He stared at her for one more second until he clenched his fists. "I was simply making a recommendation, Dia," he said, his voice void of vigour. Now, there wasn't disbelief in Barrington's eyes anymore – now, they only reflected an odd mixture of anger and hurt.
"Well, I advise you to think before you actually speak," Cloudia retorted before turning to her aunts and Natalie. "I guess we all need a break. We will resume in an hour. And Aunt Eleanor – it will be me who will play the role of the false Lord of Phantomhive and no one else. Nevertheless, I wish you all a refreshing hour." With these words, Cloudia walked out of the dressing room with a straight back and her head raised high.
She stomped through the corridors and towards the townhouse's small library. Cloudia passed irritated servants and a puzzled Keegan and Ceara, but she ignored them and entered the library, closing and locking the door behind her.
As soon as the door had closed, Cloudia leaned against it and slid down to the ground. Frantically, she fumbled on her ring, the anger which she had felt moments ago slowly leaving her body.
Oh god. How could I have said all these things? How could I threaten Barrington? Was my brain so overworked and overexcited due to the upcoming decoration that I seriously threatened Barrington in front of my aunts and a tailor assistant?
I held my head. This was the second time that I had not been able to control myself and yelled at Barrington, exaggerating the situation. He had whispered – he had only talked to me, had known that only I would hear and understand his words. He had never truly considered using Kamden. He was Barrington's ward after all, and Barrington cared about him.
Dammit, dammit, dammit – how could this have happened? How? And why?
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, taking in the comforting smell of books.
I had to fix this. I had to fix this immediately.
Cloudia stood up and unlocked the door, noticing with surprise that her curious cousins had not gathered at its other side. She went back to the dressing room but did not enter it when she heard Felicity's voice. Instead, she pressed herself against the wall next to the door.
She could hear her aunt snorting very unladylike. "That girl has the same temperament as her mother," she stated, making Eleanor sigh.
"Well... you should not be the one saying that, Fely," the oldest of the four Houghton sisters remarked.
"Ella, Fely, please do not start a fight," Joanna begged with a low voice. "Cloudia's decoration is coming closer and closer, and we all may be nervous and tense, but we need to stay calm. We cannot ruin this for her."
"You are right, Jo. I am sorry," Felicity admitted.
"I am sorry too, Joannie." Eleanor sighed again. "I am supposed to be the calm one. And now, I have actually started to sound like Penny."
Cloudia could hear Joanna patting her sister's arm and replying in a whisper: "It is fine, Ella. After all, you took most of the responsibility to look after Cloudia after Simon's funeral. Like Sir Barrington. But you never had to. Fely and I are also there to help you and steady your back, so relax for a while and take a walk for the next hour."
"You are an angel, Joannie," Eleanor said, and Cloudia knew that she was smiling and that Joanna returned her smile with a shy one of her own.
Then, the other door to the dressing room opened, and someone stepped inside. Cloudia flinched and pressed herself farther against the wall.
"Nobody asked you to do it, Eleanor," Penelope Phantomhive said with an icy voice.
What was Mother doing here?
"Oh, Jo, Fely, Sir Barrington – look who graces us with her presence! We almost thought they were lying when Mr Clifford and Sir Barrington informed us that our fourth sister was here at the townhouse." Eleanor said as bitterly as Cloudia had never heard her aunt before. "And you apparently do not realise it, but we wouldn't have to take care of your daughter, Penelope, if you had not abandoned her in the first place.
"We all know how much Simon meant to you and how much you have suffered and still suffer because of his untimely death, but your grief, no matter how big it may be, is no reason to forsake your only daughter. And do you really think that we would have done the same to Cloudia after you locked yourself up? That we would have turned our backs on her too, leaving her to the teachers and servants the Royal family employed? Leaving her only to Mr Clifford – poor Mr Clifford who mourns the loss of his master as much as you do? Cloudia may not be Fely's or Joanna's or my daughter, but she is our niece, and we would have never abandoned her like you did. Even Sir Barrington who is not even related to Cloudia cared more for her over the past years than you did. Over the past eight years in which we have tried our best to make Cloudia feel that she is not all alone in the world despite the strict rules of the crown."
"Like have I said: Nobody asked you to do it."
Eleanor chuckled bitterly. "And what would have happened if I had not decided to do it? Your daughter would be as locked up as you were in the last years. At least, we did not want to give up on Cloudia like you did."
I closed my eyes and imagined the scene inside the room: Mother and Eleanor coldly glaring at each other. Felicity, silently watching her sisters. Joanna nervously trying to find the right words to ease the situation. Barrington scowling at the two fighting women with lips pressed tightly together, dying to say something but knowing that it was better not to. Natalie uneasily looking around, feeling terribly out of place.
"If you say so," Penelope ultimately said, leaving the room.
Cloudia could feel her body tremble.
"You should always consider every side of a coin before judging a situation or person, Young Lady."
And what should I do when every side of the coin was as dark as night?
I need fresh air, I thought, running down the stairs and to the courtyard in front of the townhouse.
I had managed to calm myself down, pushing the conversation into a box in the far back of my mind and closing it with numerous ropes. I could not think about Penelope Phantomhive right now. Not now when the biggest day in my life was more or less right around the corner. Not now when my mind was already strained enough with the preparations for the decoration.
I stepped out of my hideout between some trees and started to head back inside – the hour was either already over or almost reaching its end – when I saw Celeste strolling through the courtyard all on her own. The Matthews Butler had brought her here yesterday afternoon. For a split second, I wondered what she was doing out here all on her own in the cold, but then, I remembered that I had no interest in what or what not Celeste Triton did. But seeing her gave me an idea.
"Celeste!" Cloudia called her, and her step-cousin flinched before she stopped in her movement and turned around at the sound of her name.
"Uh... yes, Cloudia?" she asked, nervously stepping from one foot to the other.
Cloudia approached her in a few quick steps, and a smile was plastered all over her face. "I need you to do me a favour."
Celeste's brown eyes widened nervously. Cloudia was afraid that she could break into a sweat every moment. "Wh-What kind of favour, Cloudia, would that be?"
"Do not be afraid. It is nothing dangerous."
Despite her words, Celeste didn't look less tense and scared.
"Really, Celeste. You will be fine," Cloudia assured her with a nod. "All you have to do is sit and pretend to be me."
Cloudia wondered if it was possible for Celeste's eyeballs to pop out of her head would she keep widening her eyes even further. "P-Pretend being you?"
Cloudia nodded again. "Yes. You know about there being two decorations, right? One for me and one for my fictional, paternal cousin with no name. Yes, you do? Fantastic. Well, you see, Celeste, that people would get suspicious if I was not among the guests of the second decoration as I am 'the Lord's' fiancée, but I cannot be in two places at once as I will be impersonating the 'Lord of Phantomhive' at that time. Therefore, I need you to pretend to be me."
"But how should that work? We do not look very much alike," Celeste meant, fumbling on a streak of her curly light brown hair which had somehow freed herself from her hair-do.
"I have already thought about it," Cloudia replied. "We will get you a wig and tell everyone that you, Celeste, got sick again and, unfortunately, has to stay in bed. However, you as me will also pretend to be ill, but not as sick as you couldn't go outside. Aunt Eleanor, Constantia, and the others will play along. We almost have the same height and skin tone, and to cover up your eyes, you will wear a dark veil. The others will say that you as me do not want to show your face while being ill, but you simply could not miss the ceremony, so you went although you are not feeling well. This will also be the reason why you will not be talking very much. It is waterproof, Celeste. My plan will not fail."
Cloudia smiled one of her most beautiful smiles. "So… will you help me?"
The last seven days had passed in the blink of an eye.
I looked at the me in the mirror while the maids prepared me for my decoration.
Every girl in Britain was raised to be a wife and a mother – a girl of nursery rhymes, a girl of elegance, and every man's dreams. But to me, this world was none I could enter.
No flowers in my hair, no carefree chatting with friends on every day of the week, no parties for fun.
Today was the day on which I would completely turn my back on the life which would have awaited me if I had been deemed unworthy and too weak to become the Watchdog. Today was the day on which I would say goodbye to a life I could not even dream of having anymore. Today was the day on which I turned my face towards the darkness.
For me there wouldn't be a "happily ever after" waiting at the end – there would only be blood, murder, and nightmares. And I was ready for it. Because I was never meant to be on the side of light.
"Is she done?"
Barrington's voice from behind the folding screen interrupted Cloudia's stream of thoughts.
"Almost, Sir Barrington," one of the maids said, quickly taking last hands to Cloudia's hair and dress with the others helping her.
"Very well. If you are done, could you please leave us alone for a moment?"
"Of course, Sir Barrington," another maid said, and when she and her colleagues were finished, they hurried to step out from behind the screen, politely bowed to Barrington, and left the room without another word.
As soon as they were gone, Cloudia came out from behind the folding screen, and Barrington's eyes widened at her sight. "I have seen you in a lot of pretty dresses during the past six years," he said, breathlessly, "but you had never looked so beautiful in any of them as you do right now – not even when you wore that white dress to the Queen's wedding."
Cloudia glimpsed at herself in the big mirror behind her. The dress was cream-coloured like she had wished it to be. The bodice and the short sleeves were covered in black lace, and small roses danced over the skirt. Her hair was up in a simple braided hair-do and vacant of any flowers, and her lips had been faintly painted red.
"Tell me, glass, tell me true!
"Of all the ladies in the land,
"Who is fairest, tell me, who?"
― Not you, not you. For creatures of the darkness are void of beauty. And no dress so beautiful it may be can cover a shadow's emptiness.
"The Royal advisers always call you that – the Phantomhive Demon. I have once listened to their mumble. And do you know why they call you that?
"Because someone in your family did something terrible and cursed his blood – and this cursed blood also flows in your veins.
"So stop trying to be a hero – because you will never be one."
Cloudia turned away from the mirror. "If you say so," she said, not allowing her voice to shake.
Barrington warmly smiled at her, not having noticed her slight fall into distress. "You know how I think of all of this. You know how I wish to see you like that on a day happier than this one. But I know how important this day is for you, how long you have waited for today – and I do not want to ruin your mood with my negativity." He reached inside his suit jacket and retrieved a box. "I thought about giving it to you on your birthday, but I did not want to overwhelm you after the meeting with Mr and Mrs Dickens." He handed her the box, and she took it, briefly blinking at it in curiosity before lifting the lit.
"It belonged to you father," Barrington whispered as Cloudia took the item out of the box – a dagger, as long as her upper arm with a clean, shimmering blade and a black grip.
"Eleanor does not allow it that we talk about Simon in front of you, or that we give you anything which belonged to him, but I thought that, maybe, you would like to have his dagger. Si was a good Watchdog – and I want you not to see the dagger as a gift from me to you, but from Watchdog to Watchdog because no matter how things would have turned out, he would have always wanted you to have it."
Cloudia tightened her grip around the dagger.
"From Watchdog to Watchdog."
"I will let you alone now. You seem to want to think calmly about a few things. We will see each other in a few minutes, Dia." Barrington was about to head out when Cloudia walked towards him, putting the box on a table but not letting go of the dagger. "No, stay for a minute."
She twisted the Phantomhive ring on her finger, heaviness cradling her heart. Barrington stopped in his movement and turned back to her.
"I am sorry for what I said a month ago, for what I said seven days ago. I am sorry for having treated you like so badly. I wanted to apologise earlier but never had the opportunity to. I am sorry, Barrington," Cloudia said, nearly suffocating on the heaviness suddenly filling her entire body but, this time, she gathered all her strength to fight it back.
Barrington smiled and wrapped his arms around her.
When had been the last time we had hugged?
"You do not have to apologise, Dia," he whispered. "It is all right. I have never been angry at you. It is all right." His embrace tightened. "You can do this, Cloudia Phantomhive, and I am glad that you will go out as yourself. I missed you."
Cloudia's eyes widened, and Barrington let her go. With one last smile – a smile made of sadness and happiness – he opened the door and left her alone in the dressing room.
I used to dream of my perfect wedding. I used to dream about finding someone whom I could love and who could love me.
I used to dream of a world with a "happily ever after" – a world in which I was not free from society and rules but free to laugh and live like everyone else. A world in which I saw Kamden every day; a world in which my parents were by my side; a world in which I laughed and played with my cousins – a world in which the Phantomhives had never been chosen to serve the Royal family as Watchdogs.
I did not dream of this world anymore.
I walked to the throne, the Queen.
I did not have a sceptre, did not have a royal orb, did not have a crown. But I had a dagger touched by blood, a ring haunted by souls, and a dark crown waiting for me.
I was no girl of nursery rhymes, of elegance, and every man's dreams. I was the Phantomhive Demon. I was the Watchdog of the Queen. I was Countess Cloudia Phantomhive.
I curtsied in front of Victoria.
I was the Queen's shadow from now until my last breath.
I had no idea how hard this arc would be to write.
When I outlined WotQ, I suddenly thought "Hey! Wouldn't it be fun to give inside to little Cloudia's life?" and added the Rise of the Watchdog Arc.
Well... it wasn't fun.
I don't regret writing it, though - it let me introduce Barrington, Penelope, Clifford, Thomas, Ilex, Wilbur (briefly), Celeste, and Kamden who will come back later in the story, and it let me further develop Cloudia's character and give her even more backstory. After all, WotQ is already her backstory, so this was the backstory to a backstory. It was just that in every chapter, Cloudia was a different person - when she was a different person when she met Barrington, she had changed until the Queen's wedding and the wedding changed her. In the 3rd chapter of this arc which was set only a few months after the 2nd, Cloudia went through another change.
The first arc had been set in the course of a year; the second arc was set in the course of six years. And a lot can happen in six years. And a lot did happen to little Cloudia.
While writing this arc, not only Cloudia changed but the story too. Kamden wasn't planned from the start, for example. I also wanted to focus "The Lady, Decorated" more on, well, Cloudia's decoration, but in the end, it split into two independent chapters - that's why their names were changed. (Part 1 is now "The Lady, Best and Worst" and Part 2 is "The Lady, Thirteen Days")
Another thing is that I wanted to do a 2nd part of "The Lady, Childhood" and upload it before uploading this chapter, but the shorts turned out badly and I thought - can't I just address these things in later chapters? And, well, I can. So, you have to wait longer to find out why Cloudia does not like Constantia and Celeste, or why Kamden called her "Gladdy" in chapter 13, for example.
One more thing changed: This arc originally had two more chapters. They were supposed to be about Cloudia's first case, featuring the reason why she does not use her sword anymore and a proper introduction to Wilbur.
But why did I scrap these chapters? Because I am lazy? Because I did not want to go through the same hell as with the other 5 chapters? Because I missed writing Undertaker? And teen Cloudia?
Yes, partly - Yes, I admit it. But that's only part of the reason: I pondered if or if not to scrap these chapters after finishing this one. And why? Well, because I wrote most of this chapter very fast - I needed ages to finish the beginning and needed only a few days for the rest - and am proud of it, especially of the end because it was, to me, the perfect end to this arc.
This arc is called "Rise of the Watchdog Arc" - she has become the Watchdog now, and after the end of this chapter, it would have seemed silly to add two more. They didn't fit together anymore. That's why these two chapters were deleted.
But what does that mean?
That the next update will be the first chapter of the third arc.
Guys, we have made it out of this arc! :D I am so happy!
I want to thank you all who stuck to this story until now - you are awesome! So much has happened in the past one and a half year. How often could I not write because school kept me busy? How often could I not write because my disorder drained me? How often did I think about dropping this FF?
Still, you are here - I hope! And I thank you. ^^ I thank you for all your views, follows, favourites, and especially reviews. They always make me go on when I don't think I can anymore.
And now, this journey has taken us to the third arc!
An arc full of Undertaker and Cloudia. An arc introducing Cloudia's Aristocrats of Evil. An arc telling you about Simon Phantomhive.
And I hope you will continue this journey with me in the third arc:
Hunter's Prey.