Jessamine sat in front of her dollhouse, poised elegantly, gently placing Baby Jessie in her crib for the night. She hummed contentedly and rearranged her skirts around her.
A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," said Jessamine a little huffily, annoyed at being interrupted. Sophie poked her head around the door.
"Mrs Branwell is calling for a meeting in the library, and you're to come immediately." Sophie instructed in a bored tone. Talking to Jessamine was hardly her favourite activity. When dressing her in the morning or fixing her hair, Sophie mostly remained silent whilst Jessamine griped about being forced into being a Shadowhunter, or generally complained about how she wasn't a 'lady of high society'.
"Of course she is." Jessamine retorted. "Just because she doesn't care about behaving like a proper lady, she thinks I couldn't give a fig. It's disgusting."
Sophie rolled her eyes. "Come along, I haven't got all day."
Gathering up her skirts with a sour look, Jessamine flounced out of the door.
Jessamine made sure she took her time getting to the library, taking the long route. This included taking several wrong turnings, using the wrong staircase, and ending up in the parlour twice. A little under half an hour later, Jessamine finally made her way to the library, from which she could hear Will having a polite argument with Jem.
"...she's probably being eaten by ducks. They have the uncanny ability to smell treachery and insolence," mused Will.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Jem. "She's obviously out having tea with a warlock. Or possibly a vampire."
"She could always be consorting with a duck-faced warlock. The possibilities are endless. Yet-"
Jessamine chose this moment to interrupt. "-yet the possibilities of you behaving like anything but a village idiot are infinitesimal." Jessamine snapped, taking a seat at the far end of the library, which, incidentally, was also the seat that was the furthest away from Will.
Will looked up in surprise, with a look of amusement. "I suppose the ducks in Hyde Park have a little more taste than I anticipated. What will the bloodthirsty beast's next victim be?"
"Do be quiet, Will." Charlotte said. "Jessie, don't be late again. Now, let's start with everyone's stations, shall we? Henry and I will be patrolling Limehouse. Will, Jem, you'll be patrolling Mile End. Oh and Jessie, you'll be with Will and Jem." At this, Jessamine gave an indignant squawk.
"Charlotte, I'm not being paired with them, and I'm most certainly not going on patrol! It's not proper!" Jessamine protested desperately. "And I'm not trained yet! What if I'm injured? How would you forgive yourself?"
"I'll cope very well. We have an Infirmary, and you'll be with trained Shadowhunters. You'll be perfectly safe-"
"Safe?! This is patrol, not afternoon tea at Fortnum & Masons! I'm not going anywhere! You'll have to drag me out by my eyebrows if you want me going on patrol," said Jessamine stubbornly.
"I'm sure that can be arranged," said Will. "My ability to drag people by their eyebrows is a little rusty, but I'll give it my best shot."
"Will." Charlotte looked as if she was having great trouble stopping herself from rolling her eyes.
"Fine," she decided. "You can go to the weapons room and sort the daggers. They're an absolute state. They should keep you busy whilst we're gone. If anything should happen, you're to send Thomas straight to Limehouse. Understood?"
"I don't want to sort the daggers!" squealed Jessie. "I'm not a man! I shouldn't even know what daggers are, let alone be sorting them. Don't make me, Charlotte, you can't make me."
"Is that understood?" repeated Charlotte. Today was becoming rather tiresome indeed.
Jessamine looked fit to burst with indignation. "Fine. But you'll pay for this," she spat, and stalked from the room in a riot of righteous anger.
This time, Charlotte did roll her eyes. "I'm sure I will," said Charlotte drily.
"Now, Jessie, we should be back in about two hours," said Charlotte, as she, Henry, Will and Jem assembled in the foyer in their gear. "Make sure the daggers are sorted; I'll be checking. Alright?"
But Jessamine only answered with a mutinous glare. "Jessie, I will drag you by the eyebrows if I must. I'll have Sophie check on you every half hour. We must be going now. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," said Jessie. But she was already hatching a plan.
"Come along, then," said Sophie, herding her to the weapons room.
"I know where the weapons room is, thank you very much." And she marched ahead, with Sophie at her heels.
They arrived in the weapons room, where the high ceilings and tall windows were throwing shards of light across the pine floors, electrifying the wood. An assortment of lethal looking weapons hung on the walls, with an array of ropes and beams crisscrossing the room at different heights. Sophie took a key from her apron and unlocked a side door, in which there lay a mound of dirtied blades, with differently jewelled handles, some blades bronze, some silver.
"Here we are. Mrs Branwell said you're to put the dirty blades in piles over there," she pointed to a table in the corner. "And the clean ones can go in the armoire." And she left the room.
But a strange calm had come over Jessamine, the calm that only came when a clear plan was devised. She made some noise by chucking a few daggers onto the table, so Sophie would think she was actually doing her job. What a joke. She listened at the door until she was definitely sure Sophie was gone and crept out of the weapons room.
She came downstairs quiet as a mouse, and tiptoed to the linen cupboard, and emptied the linens into a basket. Click clack click- Jessamine hurried back to the weapons room, and resumed her chucking daggers onto the table. She made sure to tuck the basket out of sight, and when Sophie came to check on her, she left shortly after.
Now Jessamine could get to work. Using the especially ichor-covered daggers she began cutting up the sheets and linens. For half an hour, there was only the sound of tearing fabric and ripping seams, and how satisfying the sound was to Jessamine's ears.
After carefully replacing the linens, Jessamine made her way downstairs, where she could hear voices in the entrance hall.
"There was something sinister about that demon, definitely something strange about that one," said Will in a serious tone. "Something almost-"
"-ducklike?" said Jem. "Really, William. Just because you attacked a regular demon, and it attacked you back, it doesn't mean it's a duck."
"You'd be surprised, Jem. They're a sinister bunch."
There was a commotion of removing gear and weapons, whilst Charlotte and Henry discussed their patrol.
"Ah, Jessamine," greeted Will, spotting her from the bottom of the stairs, "how you have been missed. Do bestow us with your demonic presence."
Jessamine gave Will a look of deepest loathing, one that suggested if he were to be hit by an oncoming train, she'd likely be the one driving it. "Your manners are just as appalling as always, Will. Though what is to be expected when one is reared on a mud farm in the middle of nowhere?" Jessamine sniffed. "Individuals of more refined background are always brought up in high society, and don't mix with such riff raff."
"Dear me, it sounds like you'll have to go on the streets if you don't want to mix with the likes of us," said Will in a matter-of-fact tone. "I happen to know a chap in Whitechapel who-"
"The streets?! You absolute-!"
"Jessamine, I think I'll see to those daggers I told you to sort. Do come along," said Charlotte.
Suddenly, Jessamine looked a little flustered. "But Charlotte, I think I'm coming down with something. I think it was all the sorting of the daggers that's done it. I just need to lie down, and I'll feel much better." And without waiting to excuse herself, Jessamine flew up the stairs to her room, and barricaded herself in.