~O~

Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.

-George R. R. Martin-

~O~

A New Identity

In two weeks the protagonist will receive a letter urging him onto his next task. It will be one fraught with familiar misadventures, and one the young master will tackle efficiently in his customary cunning style.

Still, that is for the future. At the moment the young master Phantomhive was preoccupied with something else. Ciel eyed the letter lying unassumingly on his desk. The red wax seal keeping it closed was unbroken, baring the clear imprint of the emblem used to seal it. Ciel had a passable knowledge of all the English nobility, enough to recognize their logos on sight, enough to know that this invitation was foreign.

His speculation was proven true when Sebastian returned with a thick book. He hadn't had to search far to find a match. "It appears to be the emblem of the House Soyeux," the demon reported dutifully. On the page a black spider spun lines of web around three blooming yellow roses.

Ciel pulled a face as he waited for Sebastian to set down the book and retrieve the letter opener. The name sounded familiar to him and he recalled reading an article about the man quite recently. "Isn't that the family known for their investments in the silk trade and fashion?" He wondered aloud. "Talk about on the nose."

"They were involved in a minor scandal several years ago," Sebastian reported. "Supposedly the late master of the house married into the family, choosing to adopt his wife's family name in an attempt to gain the prestige that came with it."

"Hmph, that's not much of a scandal. I don't recall having any dealings with them though." The Phantomhive Company dealt in toys and sweets, items that could be marketed towards children.

On the other hand, the boy tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, he had been thinking about dipping his fingers into perfumes and cosmetic products. This could be a chance to see how the market for such products functioned though he would have preferred for this learning opportunity to come from an English prospector.

Of course this all depended on what the letter actually said. With a sigh Ciel stored those thoughts away and turned to Sebastian. To his surprise, the normally unflappable butler was staring at the paper with wide eyes as if he couldn't quite believe what it said.

"What is taking so long?" Ciel snapped. "Did you suddenly forget how to read in the scant minutes it took to open the envelope?"

Sebastian blinked once and then rearranged his expression to one of cordial deference though he couldn't quite hide the amusement brimming in his eyes. "My apologies young master. It seems you've been invited to a soirée being held by the young lady of the Soyeux family."

"A party?" Ciel frowned. "So soon after the master's passing?"

"According to the invitation it's supposedly a simple get-together for those who couldn't attend the funeral in Versailles. All black clothing is specified," Sebastian passed the letter to him and stood back. Ciel eyed him warily. The things Sebastian found funny were almost always things he considered nuisances.

On first sight the letter read like any other invitation. The handwriting curved neatly upon the expensive paper. He could see the translucent ribbons decorating the borders, a sign of just how expensive the stationery must have been, and there was another stamp near the bottom of the family emblem. Ciel scanned the paper again, searching for what the demon had found so funny. Then his eyes alighted on the name.

We hope to see you there.

Yours sincerely,

Charlotte E. M. Soyeux

Absolutely fucking not.

"Young master?" Sebastian called out, struggling to make his voice sound sincere despite the snickers building in his chest. "Shall I make preparations for the day?" He quickly dodged the crumpled up projectile and burst into laughter. "Young master is everything alright?"

"You're getting on my last nerve," Ciel hissed. "How the hell is this even possible?! Did they even have a daughter?"

Sebastian coughed to mask his laughter. "They did," he replied, "but she was apparently grievously injured and taken abroad for treatment. Most people assumed that she was dead but the late master never formally claimed so."

A vein pulsed in Ciel's forehead and he massaged his temples. He was much too young for stress headaches. "How exactly does the daughter of an upper class French family become a walking doll in an English circus?"

"I couldn't begin to make a guess. But," Sebastian smirked and pushed the creased but straightened letter towards him, "you could always ask the lady herself."

oOo

It was common for nobles to have homes within the countryside. London was large and bustling and it was all too easy to feel confined by the press of humanity and the constant movement, so those who could afford it would spend months relaxing in the relatively clean country atmosphere. Ciel watched the hills roll by through the window of the carriage. The grassy green was dotted with thick trees and flowering bushes. A farmer rode ahead of a flock of white sheep, all fat with wool and meat. Somewhere within the flock a dog barked, forcing them to clump together more tightly.

It was picturesque, the perfect image of English country life. Ciel scowled and looked away.

"Be careful that the wind doesn't change," Sebastian informed him as he carefully poured a cup freshly brewed tea. It was a little late for snacks, especially so close to a party where there would undoubtedly be hors d'oeuvres, but Ciel was stressed and not desperate enough to drink coffee.

"That is the least of my concerns," Ciel replied. His curiousity hadn't stopped burning from the moment he'd read that letter. How exactly had Charlotte Soyeux become the Charlotte he knew? Was she even Charlotte Soyeux to begin with and, if she wasn't, how had she fooled everyone into believing so?

He hated not knowing. To think that he'd had that woman under his roof for weeks! Who did she think she was, swanning across the channel in the dead of night without so much as a by your leave! Manners transcended status. Ciel scowled to himself and drained the tea as though he couldn't feel the searing temperature.

Sebastian's brows rose higher and he let a flicker of amusement colour his next words. "Young master, I have never seen you so put out by one lady. Should Miss Midford be concerned by your attentions?"

"Don't make me throw up," Ciel scoffed. "I simply dislike being duped. In addition to that," he thought of the string of lockets hidden back at the manor, "she is involved with the Undertaker and he is involved in something big. I can't simply let her disappear without knowing her intentions."

"Then you may get your answers quite soon," Sebastian hummed. The Soyeux Manor rose in the distance, standing tall against the sunset. Thick tendrils of ivy climbed over cream coloured walls, giving it an air of old mystery that was offset by the more modern architecture. A fountain stood in the centre of the courtyard, sending multiple streams of clear water arcing through the air and into the stone basin below.

There were other carriages parked within the courtyard. Ciel watched the passengers step out, some he recognized and others Sebastian whispered the names of. When their carriage finally reached the entrance, Ciel saw the doorman's eyes widen minutely before he quickly composed himself and held out his hand for the invitation.

He looked it over but the action seemed perfunctory as he quickly bowed. "The Earl Phantomhive," he introduced. "The Lady was looking forward to your attendance. She hopes you have an interesting evening."

Ciel swallowed his grimace. Interesting, that sounded like Charlotte alright. Pasting on a courteous smile, he let himself be ushered into the manor.

Ciel hadn't had the chance to attend many funerals. Of course this would usually be a cause for joy but this achievement wasn't because the people he knew didn't die. In reality the chances of death seemed to increase dramatically for those who were close to him. That was a depressing thought. Pushing it away, the boy chose to survey the setting.

The curtains had been replaced with black velvet though they were still pulled open as there was still a little sunlight left. Against the edge of the room were tables laden with platters of cakes and finger foods. Bouquets of snow-white lilies sat in every single vase, a bunch of them surrounding a raised dais where a quartet played suitably solemn music. A servant glided elegantly between guests, a tray of wine balanced on his fingertips. On all the walls, paintings and pictures of the deceased had been hung up. The largest of them sat in the centre of the room surrounded by tiny white candles.

The image depicted a family; a man standing next to his wife who was sitting with a baby perched in her lap. The man was stout, almost portly, with thick brown hair that appeared artfully combed to cover any bald spots. He wore a dark red brocade vest with black embellishments. Dangling from his breast-pocket was the chain of a pocket-watch, part of which was being chewed on by the baby.

The woman was what drew his attention. She looked very similar to Charlotte. More than that, the two of them could have been sisters given a few years! Was this conclusion for real or simply a remarkable coincidence? Ciel couldn't be sure. A blood test could give some hint but the two parents were dead and he wasn't 100% certain that Charlotte actually had any blood.

The conversation behind him drew him out of his musings and he pretended to be engrossed in the picture while the group behind him murmured amongst themselves in quiet French. Well, it wasn't so much a conversation as it was two of them gasping and making sounds at the appropriate time while the orator basked in the attention.

"...isn't it? The timing of her arrival just seems a little convenient. I mean, he's right on his deathbed and suddenly his long-lost daughter comes barrelling through the doors demanding an inheritance!"

"You don't think she's-"

"I wouldn't dare jump to conclusions!" There was a round of sarcastic chuckles from the group. "I am simply saying what we're all thinking! There are so many blondes in England, let alone France. Not to speak ill of the dead, but the man was probably desperate to feel that he hadn't failed his family that he handed the coffers off to a charlatan!"

Ciel narrowed his eyes at the portrait, taking in the man's gentle expression as he looked down at his wife and child. Maybe he hadn't married into the family as a way to selfishly use their prestige. Perhaps he just loved his wife enough to give up everything for her. It was a nice thought. Sweet. Ciel resisted the urge to scowl. At this rate he was going to sprain a muscle.

"...might be. After all, he never formally filed for a death certificate." Someone pointed out.

The self-imposed leader sniffed. "Like I said: desperation. What parent wants to die after their child?"

Almost as soon as the words were spoken, the music rose in crescendo and then died away. The guests applauded politely and soon the atmosphere changed from relaxed but enquiring, to anticipatory. A maidservant whispered something to the manservant at the top of the stairs and he nodded. "Introducing the Lady Charlotte of the House Soyeux."

A polite applause rang out, tinged with greater expectations. Most of them hadn't seen the lady before so they were quite curious to know what she looked like. The late Master's wife had been a beauty, suitably pale and dainty with the requisite colouring. Rumours claimed that she was very rarely seen out of doors and when she was, it was only to attend operas and the requisite dinner parties.

The woman coming down the stairs resembled a healthy version of the lady in the picture. Despite the sombreness of her black dress, her blue eyes gleamed with colour and confidence. Thick, long golden hair had been curled into ringlets and pinned back beneath a black headpiece. Her dress had puffy sleeves and a high neck which she used to hide the telltale scar around her throat, and her arms were clothed in black kid gloves.

Every conceivable part of her body was covered up or obscured and while it made the attendees coo in sympathy – oh poor dear, she must be so distraught – Ciel had to restrain himself from crushing his wineglass.

The whispers ceased when she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Good evening all," Charlotte spoke cordially, calmly, if Ciel hadn't personally seen the woman crawling through his vents and cackling like a demented monkey he might have been impressed. "Thank you for attending this soirée in honour of my father's passing. It has been a thorn in my heart, the fact that I was unable to spend much time with him before he was taken away. If I cannot celebrate his life, then I will at least mourn his death, and I would do it with all of you who knew him and whom he knew in return. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening!"

"Hear, hear!" A chorus of cheers rose up, mostly from the artistic side of the room. Impatient though he was, Ciel waited for her to make the rounds. When her eyes landed on him and she broke into a wide, familiar grin, he finally let himself snarl the way he'd wanted to all evening.

"That's an interesting identity you've acquired for yourself," he muttered over the rim of his glass.

"Oh my, what a harsh tone!" She giggled behind a gloved hand. "Yes it is, isn't it? Though I didn't have to 'acquire' it since it was mine all along."

"You expect me to believe that the daughter of a French businessman and noble was just running around England masquerading as a circus puppet?" Ciel scoffed. "What do you take me for?"

She laughed again though this time it sounded a bit more genuine. "I took you for someone who enjoyed stories as much as I do. It does sound farfetched, doesn't it? Wouldn't you like to hear about it?"

"I think I can guess the plot though I do have one question," he eyed the collar of her dress. "How did Charlotte Soyeux die?"

The woman winced dramatically. "Ouch, straight for the jugular. Pun absolutely intended," she smirked and took a sip of her wine. "Construction accident. A piano fell on me if you can believe it. Crushed my spine and ribs, I would have certainly died if Pa–" she stopped herself and shook her head. "If Undertaker hadn't been at the manor already. The late Master had ferried him to Versailles for a house call."

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "What was he doing in Versailles?"

"If I had to guess, I would say that the late Master wanted him to bring my mother back to life," Charlotte shrugged. "I don't know whether he could have but when I was hurt maybe that was the wakeup call he needed. I always knew the late Master loved my mother far more than he loved me. I was a girl and, after she died, I was a reminder that she was permanently gone. Now everyone's gone and I'm still here."

That said, she drained her wineglass in a two gulps and stared thoughtfully at Ciel's. He sighed and handed it to her. "You don't call him father," he noted.

Charlotte gave a wry smile. "Why should I? Does fucking the right woman at the right time make you worthy of the title? Does lying and keeping secrets? I'll give my mother the respect due because she at least carried and pushed me into this world, but until proven otherwise I have no father."

She drained the glass again and seemed to perk up as if the alcohol had given her a sudden burst of energy. "Which reminds me, I wanted to ask you for some advice."

Ciel was immediately wary. "Advice?" He echoed dubiously. "About what?"

"How exactly does one run a company?"

I'm late, so late, so very very late! I'm so sorry you guys! I have no excuse so I'm just gonna keep writing and updating. I'm gonna keep to a weekly schedule partly for your sake and partly for my own motivation!