Disclaimer: This fanfic is rated 'M' for adult themes. I do not own any of the characters of The Hunger Games or Pride and Prejudice, although I wish I did.
Chapter 13:
"Our scars make us know that our past was for real."
- Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
With a critical eye, Katniss stared down at the selection of dresses spread across the bed. Mrs. Heavensbee had been by twice already to remind her that dinner was fast approaching, and she would have to hurry if she did not want to keep their generous host and hostess waiting.
Mr. Cinna's creation was out of the question, too formal for an intimate dinner. Her favorite green dress was starting to look a little too tired along the hem and did not have the same luster it once did. The remaining two options were a violet muslin dress passed down from Annie and a simple yet elegant deep blue velvet dress with an empire silhouette. Ordinarily, the velvet was too warm for the summer months, but with the recent cooler nights, perhaps this evening would be the perfect occasion.
The blue velvet it was, then.
The afternoon had passed in a blur. It had been but a few hours prior when Katniss had, once again, found herself cursing Aunt Effie under her breath as she hauled the last of her bags down the narrow stairwell of the inn. Stubborn as ever, she had refused any help from the driver—a quiet yet kind, young man who went by the name of Mr. Thresh—who had insisted that Mrs. Paylor would "have his hide" if she found out their guest was handling her own luggage.
The man had entertained her act of independence for the first four bags, which she proved to manage with no issue despite the light sheen of perspiration that dotted her forehead. However, the moment she attempted to lift the largest of her trunks, Mr. Thresh shooed her away as though she was a naughty child, muttering an admonishment under his breath. She had nothing to prove to the man, but it was the sheer volume of luggage that was an embarrassment. Would her hosts think her vain?
Katniss recalled Mr. Thresh biting back his amusement when she clutched her traveling valise tight to her chest, refusing to relinquish it to his outstretched hand. Patting the front pocket to where her letters were safely stowed away, she had blatantly ignored the impatient looks from a famished Mr. Heavensbee. She remained tight-lipped throughout the carriage ride back to Spring Haven despite the barrage of questions from the curious gentleman concerning her connections to Mr. Mellark. Thankfully, Mrs. Heavensbee thwarted his inquires, and instead, they had to sit through the man's musings on whether a gentleman of leisure such as Mr. Mellark preferred hunting or fishing.
Mrs. Paylor had greeted them and they were promptly ushered to the dining room for a late yet lavish luncheon. Fortunately, the delighted sound of appreciation from Mr. Heavensbee muffled the grumbling of her empty belly, for it had been ages since breakfast. A hardy pheasant casserole drenched in a thick port gravy with creamed potatoes and roasted leeks was served, in addition to a selection of cold meats, cheeses, rolls, and fruits artfully arranged in an elegant pyramid at the center of the table.
After being shown to their rooms, Katniss had considered a quick nap to refresh herself but instead spent what was left of the afternoon exploring every inch of her extravagant suite. Her accommodations boasted not only a private dressing room but also a personal sitting area and water closet! With running water! It was a marvel of modern ingenuity, and not at all a surprise for a man like Mr. Mellark.
A third knock came just as she was struggling to fasten a bracelet about her wrist. "Just a moment!" Katniss called out. Too much time had been wasted fussing over how to finish off her outfit, whether to leave her hair down or in a braid, whether to dab on a hint of the rose lip salve that Aunt Effie insisted she wear but never was bothered to do. She eyed the perfume bottle on the dressing table; would a spritz of night jasmine be too much?
Failing to catch the clasp of her bracelet once more, Katniss huffed out a breath and then caught one of the dangling ends between her lips. Missing the clasp yet again but still determined, she shuffled over to the door and managed a garbled "come in" through her clenched teeth.
Just one more moment and she…almost had it…ugh!
A masculine clearing of a throat had Katniss whirling towards the door and the bracelet swung from her grasp. "Oh! Mr. Mellark…I did not…I thought you were…where is Mrs. Heavensbee?"
It was becoming an unfortunate habit, him finding her in these awkward moments. The burning of her cheeks was becoming all too familiar a feeling, it was a wonder she did not burst into flames whenever in his presence.
True to form, Mr. Mellark cut a fine figure dressed in a dark charcoal coat of fine wool and, as coincidence would have it, a navy blue waistcoat. Katniss narrowed her eyes. She was beginning to suspect all these coincidences were not at all such. The man had to have eyes everywhere, how else could she explain it?
"The Heavensbees are awaiting us in the drawing room," he answered before kneeling to retrieve her bracelet. Upon straightening, he beckoned her closer and smiled down at her. "Perhaps I may be of service instead?"
"My apologies, I must have lost track of time." Katniss held out her wrist. "I did not mean to keep you all waiting."
"It is quite alright, my sister is with them." He took hold of her hand and turned it palm up.
It seemed they were past toeing the line of propriety with their lingering glances and discrete yet indulgent touches as of late. The liberties he had taken at almost every opportunity made it seem as though he was making up for lost time. But were they inadvertently rushing? Given the pace at which their rekindled friendship was progressing, she had to be certain they were on the same page.
"Mr. Mellark," she whispered as her heartbeat quickened.
"Hmm," he replied, his attention leaving her face to take in the rest of her.
"We seem to have found ourselves alone…again." She paused, waiting to capture his attention. Once she had it, she raised an eyebrow. "And I am unsure if it is an innocent coincidence or intentional."
"I believe I have made it quite clear, in both my letters and through action, that I cannot further conceal my intentions, nor do I wish to do so. Do you need more convincing of what they are?" He suddenly paused to study her face. "That is unless my attentions have made you uncomfortable? If that is the case then I apologize for my forwardness, if you would prefer Mrs. Heavenbee be here as a chaperone—"
"No! No, that is not it. I am not uncomfortable per se, I am just…new to all of this. When we ladies are taught all our lives to be the ones pursued, the uncertainty in our own experience and waiting can be unnerving. And given our past misunderstandings, I feel as though I would find comfort in hearing it said out loud. It would make it all the more…real."
Mr. Mellark exhaled a heavy breath. "I must admit, when it comes to you as of late, I find my actions appear to do most of the talking. But just so we are clear, Miss Katniss Everdeen, it is you who wields all the power between us, for I am the one at your mercy. But to avoid our previous misfortunes, let us promise to each other that if we are unsure of the other's intention, then we simply ask."
"How pragmatic of you."
"Then you agree?"
"Yes, of course." Katniss released an exasperated laugh. "So tell me then, are your intentions towards me beyond those of mere friendship?"
"Yes," he answered firmly, but it was the sincerity in his gaze that spoke volumes more than his verbal confirmation.
"This is a courtship then," she mused, then chuckled at his exasperated features for being intentionally obtuse. "Well, quite an unconventional one at that, if I do say so myself."
"Quite," he agreed, mirth in his eyes as he regarded her with a smirk.
"Now help me with my bracelet," she admonished with a shake of her head. "Or else someone will come looking for us. Imagine then what everyone would think, finding us alone up here as such."
"I could only wish," he murmured, and then focused his attention back down to her outstretched hand.
When he traced the faint, delicate veins along the inside of her wrist, her pulse jumped. She watched with rapt fascination as he brought the ends of the bracelet together and fastened the clasp. After taking a moment to straighten it, he then lifted her wrist to his lips and brushed a feather-light kiss along the braided strands of gold.
Straightening to his full height, Mr. Mellark offered her his arm. "Now then, shall we?"
Katniss took his arm and let him escort her to the drawing room in comfortable silence, but inside she was anything but silent. Her heart was still aflutter at the confirmation of his intentions to court her, but thinking back on their past, was it not obvious that was what he had been doing all along? But before he had never publically admitted it, or approached her uncle for his approval. Would he do so now? Although his confirmation filled her heart with joy, it also filled her mind with more questions.
Despite them, she could not help stealing admiring glances at his profile along the way. With his strong jawline and refined features, he was achingly handsome. Unable to resist herself, Katniss pressed close to his side, reveling in his incredible warmth. As they approached the drawing room, however, apprehension began to seep in and once outside the doorway, Katniss inhaled a deep breath. The time had come to meet the infamous Miss Adelaide.
"You have nothing to fear," Mr. Mellark assured her, patting her hand that was clutching tight to the crook of his elbow. His lips curled into a smile, faint but brief yet it put some of her nerves at ease. "My sister will adore you."
Laughter spilled out from the drawing room and Katniss released a steadying breath. "Should I be worried about what you have already said to her about me?"
"Perhaps," he said with a glint in his eye and then led her into the room.
Seated across from the Heavensbees was a charming and graceful girl of no more than eighteen, smiling brightly as she listened to a story the couple were regaling. With her fair coloring and golden blonde curls, Miss Adelaide was indeed a Mellark. Katniss was not prepared, however, for the pang of longing that filled her when she met the young lady's eyes. Oh, how she missed her dear Primrose.
"Miss Everdeen, what a pleasure to finally meet you!" Miss Adelaide exclaimed, rising to her feet and dipping into a curtsey that Katniss mirrored in kind. She then stepped forward and took hold of Katniss's free hand and squeezed it tight. "My brother has told me so much about you!"
"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Adelaide."
"Oh, do call me Delly," she insisted. "Now come, allow me to steal you away from my brother and sit beside me."
Katniss caught the ever-watchful eye of Mrs. Heavensbee who by now had no doubt caught on to Mr. Mellark's intentions towards her. Katniss responded to her friend's curious look with a reassuring smile. With an approving nod, Mrs. Heavenbee turned to her husband to share a hushed conversation.
"Only if you behave," Mr. Mellark said to his sister, lifting a brow. When she responded with an overtly saccharine grin, Katniss chuckled. The way the siblings interacted made her heart clench, a fondness for each other that was still present beneath their playful admonishments.
With a heavy sigh, Mr. Mellark released her but held her hand until Katniss was seated next to Miss Adelaide. "I leave you in my sister's capable hands." Turning his attention to Mr. Heavensbee, he clasped his hands behind his back as he engaged him in conversation about the estate.
Katniss admired the way Mr. Mellark held himself when he was in his natural surroundings. Less stiff and free with his smiles. When he gave his full attention to someone, it was no wonder they were captivated by his very being. It was most distracting.
"I must say," Miss Adelaide mused, garnering Katniss's attention. "You are far more beautiful in person than my brother had let on."
"Oh?" was all she could manage.
"Yes, he shared with me his portraits of you."
"Portraits?" A flush bloomed over her cheeks. She cut a glance to Mr. Mellark. Besides the sketch she had burnt to a crisp in the fire, she still had the first one he had shared with her. In her favorite green dress.
"When I asked him to describe you," Miss Adelaide continued, "he could not find the words, so he defaulted to showing me instead."
"I was under the impression your brother has quite a way with words."
"I was too, but not when it comes to you." Miss Adelaide's cheeky smile had Katniss mirroring her own in return. Then she leaned in and mock whispered, "But do you know what else he said?"
With wide eyes, Katniss shook her head.
"That when you sing, even the birds stop to listen."
Katniss blushed and caught Mr. Mellark looking her way, a soft smile upon his handsome face. "I am afraid your brother may have exaggerated."
"Oh no, my brother never exaggerates. Which is why I must ask, would you do me a kindness and join me for a duet? My brother has brought back for me a most wonderful gift, a splendid new pianoforte!" With eager eyes, Miss Adelaide awaited her answer.
Unable to deny the charming girl's request, Katniss dipped her chin. "I would be delighted, but perhaps after dinner if that is all right with you?"
"Yes, of course! We shall savor our anticipation until then." Miss Adelaide took hold of Katniss's hand and squeezed it gently. "I can tell already that we will be very good friends."
Dinner was an elegant affair with all too many dishes that Katniss had never before heard of that piqued her interest, but it was the pineapple displayed within the centerpiece that was the crowning jewel of the table. One would have thought the most famous Capitol families would be dining with them based on her perusal of the menu: venison wellington with caramelized onions and port au jus, pan fried duck smothered in apple and calvados sauce, and a colorful salad with asparagus, goat cheese, and pickled figs. But it was the pineapple ice cream that concluded the meal that did her in. Mrs. Heavensbee's account of the exotic fruit had been an understatement for it was unlike anything she had ever tasted, and a delicacy she would never forget.
Katniss had been rather quiet throughout most of the dinner, more than content to sit back and listen to the stories Miss Adelaide shared of her summer travels, and of course witness the interactions between the siblings. Gone was the indifferent façade that Mr. Mellark donned for the rest of the world to see. With his carefree manner and easy smiles that reached his eyes, it was plain to see that this was indeed his true self. And she quite admired it.
However, towards the end of the meal, Miss Adelaide seemed to direct more and more of her questions towards Katniss, inquiring about her favorite pastimes, where her recent travels had taken her, about Seamfirth, and of course, about her family. The moment their conversation moved to the topic of her sister specifically, a pang of longing clenched her chest.
"My sister and I have never before been apart this long," Katniss admitted. "I miss her dearly, and do long to see her."
"I have the most marvelous idea," Miss Adelaide said with a gleam in her eyes. "Write to your dear sister and have her join us! We would be delighted for you to extend your stay as well, for there is much I would love to show you here at Spring Haven. That is if it would be of interest to you?"
Shocked by the suggestion, Katniss gently bit the corner of her lip. "Are you certain? I would not wish to outstay my welcome and intrude on your hospitality any further."
"Nonsense," Mr. Mellark interjected and then turned to the Heavensbees. "You are more than welcome to extend your stay as well, I insist."
The excitement in Mr. Heavensbee's eyes was clear as day. "That is a very generous offer, and we would be honored!"
"Splendid! Now with that settled, do tell me, Miss Everdeen," Miss Adelaide said, mischief tugging at her features. "I have questioned my brother time and time again about how you two came to meet. But he has been rather tight-lipped about it and so I was hoping you could shed some light on the matter?"
"Is that so?" Katniss glanced over to Mr. Mellark. "There is good reason I am sure for his secrecy."
Mr. Mellark cleared his throat and then turned to Mr. Heavensbee. "Would you care to join me tomorrow to tour the conservatories? Mrs. Paylor informed me that the mechanics intrigued you."
"Oh no, no, no," Miss Adelaide cut in. "You will not change the subject, dear brother! Now, Miss Everdeen—"
"Please, call me Katniss."
"Oh of course," Miss Adelaide said with a nod. "Do tell me then Katniss, how was it?"
"Now let me see," Katniss mused, tapping a finger to her lips. "If I recall correctly, we were at a country ball and your brother looked to be having the most dreadful time. Keeping to the corners of the room to avoid any new introductions and heaven forbid, conversation with anyone other than the Odairs. Not once did I witness from him a smile or a laugh.
"So you see, Mr. Odair was attempting to persuade your brother to ask me to dance, but he wanted naught to do with me. And do you know what he said?" Katniss glanced over to Mr. Mellark. With a mischievous grin, she carried on despite the tight purse of his mouth. "I believe his exact words were 'She is barely tolerable'".
"Oh no, he did not!" Miss Adelaide balked and then turned to her brother. "Tell me that is not so."
"Those were not my exact words," Mr. Mellark muttered before taking a sip from his glass. "And I was not myself that evening."
"I dare say you were not!" Miss Adelaide admonished, furrowing her brow at her brother.
Following a heavy sigh, he took another long drink of his wine. "Well, I will have you know, dear sister, that Miss Everdeen did not hesitate to put me in my place for my behavior."
"She did?" With mirth in her eyes, Miss Adelaide looked between them before turning her attention to her brother.
"Indeed. But I believe my exact words were actually 'She is tolerable I suppose, but not enough to tempt me'. To which her exact response to Mrs. Crane was 'if he had asked me to dance then I would have to converse with him'."
The room filled with the laughter of Miss Adelaide and the Heavensbees, but Katniss only stared back at him in wonder. That he remembered anything from their exchange that evening, let alone their exact conversation, caused her cheeks to warm. "You have a remarkable memory."
"I remember everything about you," he said, just loud enough for her ears only. Then he cleared his throat and shrugged offhandedly. "You are the one who must not have been paying attention."
"Well, I am glad to hear your memories are well and intact, brother," Miss Adelaide said, garnering his attention. "But honestly, what were you thinking?"
Amused by the banter between the two, Katniss could not help but laugh when Miss Adelaide tossed her napkin at his face.
"Regardless, I am glad you eventually came to your senses," Miss Adelaide chided.
"As am I." The soft smile that Mr. Mellark sent her way had her heart clenching.
Cutting a glance to Mr. and Mrs. Heavensbee who were watching their interactions intently, Katniss's cheeks heated. One would not struggle to speculate what was transpiring between her and Mr. Mellark, and the Heavensbees were not easily fooled. But it was the happy smiles on their faces that put her apprehensions at ease. Later she would speak with Mrs. Heavensbee, to reassure her of their mutual intentions and ask if she would hold off on mentioning anything to Aunt Effie until Katniss was ready.
After retiring to the drawing room, Katniss was pleasantly surprised that the gentleman followed suit straight away instead of remaining back for a beverage at the table. However, Miss Adelaide wasted no time in leading Katniss to the pianoforte that was showcased next to the grand fireplace.
"Now for our duet!"
"What shall we do?" Katniss asked as she thumbed through the sheets of music atop the pianoforte.
"My favorite is the Meadow Song, do you know it?"
Her fingers slipped and a few loose papers fluttered to the floor. Katniss stared at Miss Adelaide for a moment and then inclined her head in acknowledgment. "I believe so, but would you mind playing a few notes just to be sure?"
The familiar melody sent a shiver coursing up her spine, causing her to inhale unsteadily. Katniss closed her eyes to steady herself. But how was it possible? It was not a well-known arrangement and Katniss had never before heard it played outside of their family. Her brows drew together as she attempted to make sense of it, and then cast an uncertain look towards Mr. Mellark who was seated front row and center to them.
"What a pleasant coincidence," Katniss admitted, despite her confusion, "I know it."
Miss Adelaide had better positioned herself on the bench, paused for but a moment, and then the room filled with the haunting melody of her father's lullaby. She was playing by heart, as though she had known this song her entire life. But how was that so? There were a few improvised chords here and there, but otherwise, it might as well have been Prim accompanying Katniss in the duet.
The emotions that filled her every time she sang the familiar words threatened to overtake her. Desperate for something to ground her, her eyes found the calming blue of Mr. Mellark's. Not once did his gaze stray from her the entire time and she drew from them the strength to keep her voice from wavering.
When the last verse left her lips, Katniss released a shuddering breath, feeling suddenly out of sorts. She dipped into a shallow curtsey when the room filled with the Heavensbee's enthusiastic applause, then reached out and squeezed Miss Adelaide's hand.
"You played beautifully," Katniss whispered. The thick knot lodged in her chest however did not lessen, and Katniss wrapped her arms around herself. "I apologize, but please excuse me."
To keep from fleeing the drawing room, she forced her feet to slow. But once in the hallway, she took off in a run, unsure of where she was headed. After her initial burst of acceleration, her feet began to slow and a few twists and turns later down the lantern-lit hallways, she had somehow found her way back to the cavernous gallery filled with portraits.
She paced in a tight circle as she attempted to sort through the tangle of her thoughts. Her visit to Spring Haven thus far had her filled with mixed emotions, and she was beginning to suspect that many secrets lay hidden amongst these walls. How was it possible for Miss Adelaide to know her father's lullaby? And why was her mother's portrait displayed here at Spring Haven? Her attention flicked to the corner of the gallery and she frowned.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway as someone approached, growing louder and louder until suddenly all was quiet.
"I apologize," Mr. Mellark said, his voice almost a whisper. "If I had known my sister would select that particular piece—"
"No, please, she is not at fault," Katniss interrupted, then looked away and forced a smile before turning back to Mr. Mellark.
"Something is troubling you." As if sensing the apprehension within her, he reached out and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. "Tell me, how can I help?"
The warmth that radiated from his touch was a wonderful place to start. Katniss shut her eyes and allowed herself a moment, breathing in deep the scent of cinnamon and citrus that clung to him that night. Her eyes opened when his other hand gently squeezed her fingers.
Unsure of where to start, Katniss found herself guiding him to the mysterious portrait and paused in front of it. "This portrait here." She watched his face from the corner of her eye and noticed a slight twitch of his lips. "I cannot help but feel a familiarity when I see it."
"As you should, for it is your mother."
Katniss stared at him, unmoving. "But…how?"
"I am not sure exactly where to begin." He ran a shaky hand through his hair as though he was desperately trying to collect his thoughts. "How much do you know of your mother's life before your father?"
Katniss furrowed her brow at the odd question but then realized that she indeed did not know much, save for what her aunt and uncle had shared with her over the years. She finally shrugged. "Not much, I am afraid to admit."
"There was a time when your mother and my father were secretly engaged."
Turning her narrowed eyes upon him, she retorted, "Engaged?" The disbelief in Katniss's tone was obvious. The notion of her mother loving anyone other than her father was absurd!
"Yes, they were sweethearts for a time, that is until your father came along." As if sensing her skepticism, he offered her his hand. "Come, I have something to show you."
Still unconvinced of the revelation, yet eager to learn more about this secret life of her mother, Katniss took hold of his hand and followed him. He led her down hallways she did not recognize until they reached…a second library? No, the grand desk in front of the window and the more intimate setting had her wondering if this was his private study.
He led her to the desk and then pulled out a chair for her. "Please, have a seat."
She sat and then watched him move to the other side of the desk where he pulled out a small wooden box from one of the drawers. When he rounded the corner of the desk again, he perched atop it and then beckoned her closer.
"It was not until the last few days of my father's life that I learned of his shared past with your mother," he said, placing a hand over the lid of the box. "You see, my father was destined to marry my mother, whose family was known for advantageous business relations that my grandfather hoped to exploit to expand his empire. A great match in the eyes of their parents and society. But my father, the romantic that he was, wished for more. It was prudent he did not acknowledge any understanding my grandfather had insinuated, for he wished to marry for love.
"His relationship with your mother was unexpected—the product of an accidental interaction at an apothecary of all places—and one that he knew my grandfather would never approve of. But that did not discourage him—if anything, he said it only fueled his desire to form an attachment to your mother. It was only months later that they were secretly engaged with plans to elope, but shortly after they were discovered by my mother who made it quite clear that she would stop at nothing to ruin your mother's reputation. Lucky for her though, before she could break the news of the scandal to both families, your mother met Sir Jonathan Everdeen."
Mr. Mellark glanced up at her with a timid smile. "Despite the engagement being broken off, my mother still revealed their secret to her elder brother, Sir Snow, which is the reason why he disliked my father from the beginning. My mother never quite forgave my father, even though he had never acknowledged any prior attachment to her. For no matter what, my mother would always be his second choice."
He paused for a moment, staring down at the box with his brow furrowed. Katniss was at a loss for words, still attempting to take it all in but also unable to reflect on the uncanny parallel between father and son. Both were burdened with expectations of marriage that neither acknowledged nor wished to see through. Did he fear history repeating itself?
"Mr. Mellark?" she whispered, but was met with silence. Katniss reached out and her fingers softly threaded through the golden locks of hair that had tumbled onto his forehead. Finally, he looked up at her.
"Apologies for my distraction." He took a moment to clear his throat and then placed a hand on top of the box. "So it was upon his deathbed that my father made me swear to find you and your sister, and to give you this."
Gingerly, he pulled back the lid of the box and turned it toward her. Still somewhat overwhelmed, Katniss forced herself forward and peered down to survey the contents of the box. With a gasp, Katniss moved in closer still. There sat two folded handkerchiefs, but it was the familiar songbird embroidered on them that had her plucking one from the box, her fingers smoothing over the silky threads.
It was a mockingjay, the very same bird that Primrose had stitched upon one of her handkerchiefs. There was no doubt, it was her mother's. Peering back into the box, to one side Katniss noticed a stack of letters with the name "Lily" scrawled in beautiful penmanship across the top one. On the other side—an iridescent contrast against the red velvet lining of the box—was a pair of drop pearl earrings and a hair comb. Tears began to well up in her eyes but she shook her head to fight them back.
"My father admitted he wanted to keep all of your mother's letters, but it was too great a risk if he wished to make the most of his marriage to my mother. Instead, he only kept the ones that were returned to him after she and your father began courting. Neither could her bring himself to part with the few of her possessions he still had. But after hearing of her death, he felt it was only right for her possessions to be with her daughters."
Katniss reached in and carefully picked up one of the pearl earrings, studying it in her palm. It was cool against her skin.
"You do not know how much it means to have a part of her with me. You have my deepest thanks, for we lost everything in the fire. We were left with…nothing but our memories."
"Then I know you will cherish these."
Katniss startled and the earring almost dropped from her hand when the chimes from a grandfather clock in the corner filled the room. Taking note of the hour, Katniss gasped. How did time seem to get away from her whenever she was with him? Tucking the earring safety back into the box, Katniss shut the lid and sighed.
"I know I have shared much to take in, but I hope the news has not caused you more grief."
Katniss shook her head. "No, I thank you for sharing this with me."
He carefully set the box down on the desk and rose to his feet. "Do you wish to return to the drawing room?"
Swallowing against a dry throat, Katniss frowned. "No, thank you. I would prefer to retire early if that is alright with you?"
"Of course, whatever you wish. I will give your regrets to my sister and the Heavensbees."
After tucking her hand around his arm, he carefully retrieved the wooden box from the desk and led her through the halls and up the grand staircase to her room. It seemed as though there was more he wished to say, but he remained quiet, a pensive look about him. But the more she thought on it, she had questions for him as well, but they would have to wait as tonight was best left to get her thoughts in order.
"Thank you," she said once they reached her room and he transferred the box into her possession. "And good night."
"Katniss," he said just as she was about to shut the door. "I do not wish for there to be secrets between us. There is much I wish to discuss with you, and more I would like to share, but you must understand that it is difficult for me. There may be times when I may seem closed off, but please, it is merely habit. Over the years, circumstance has led me to don this façade…for me to appear as though I am unfeeling or cold, but…" He trailed off into silence, as though the right words eluded him.
"But that is not you," she offered, acknowledging the meaning he was trying to convey. "And one can only where such a mask for so long. It is tiring, is it not?"
His response was a single nod, his gaze not moving from her face.
"With me, you need not a mask."
He lingered but a moment longer before he dipped his head. Then turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Dark clouds consumed the night sky, and there was a noticeable chill in the air, enough that each puff of breath was visible before her. In nothing but a thin nightdress, goosebumps broke out across her skin as she made her way through the familiar grove of thick trees. With each step, every stone and twig threatened to pierce the bare soles of her feet but she could not stop or turn back.
They were waiting for her.
Deeper and deeper into the woods she went, the shadows creeping in close until she struggled to see more than a few hand-spans before her. But these were not her woods, and she did not belong here. It would not be long before the trees consumed her, body and soul. She had to escape. She had to run.
Branches tore at her arms and face as she kicked up her feet, faster and faster until her muscles ached and her body was streaked with red. Almost there. Almost. When she finally broke free of their wooden grasp and into a clearing, she fell onto her hands and knees, panting to catch her breath. But her first deep inhale burned her nostrils and scorched her lungs. She clutched at her throat, gasping for fresh air.
That was when she looked up. But she should not have. Smoldering ashes and rubble were all she could see. Someone was screaming, was it her? Was it her mother? Where was Prim? She called out for them, for anyone, but was only met with silence.
Forcing herself to her feet, her steps were heavy as she made her way towards the front of the house. Glancing up at the stairway, she hesitated as a moment of clarity coursed through her mind.
This was not real.
She was no stranger to this childhood nightmare, and her body shivered knowing all too well what awaited her. It was no mystery what she would find at the top of the steps, but despite her hesitation, there would be no turning back. Her subconscious was playing an evil trick, not allowing her to wake up until she opened the door. She was trapped.
Her only option would be to ascend the stony stairs and with each step, the bottoms of her feet would burn with fury. The smell of ash and burnt flesh would permeate her skin and tears would begin to streak her cheeks. Only when the bottoms of her feet were almost melted off would she find the remains of the ornate archway that once made up the entryway to Huntingford. The door however would be intact and pristine as always, not singed or touched by the fire that had engulfed the rest of the house.
Unable to stop herself, she would inhale a deep breath, the acrid smoke filling her lungs like blackened roots reaching deep into her chest. The metal latch of the door would burn into her skin, and as she pushed it open, her attempts to shut her eyes to block out the horrors that lay hidden inside would be futile. The tears would flow down her face by then.
The scene awaiting her would be two lifeless bodies, each with an outstretched hand as if reaching out for each other during their final moments. Only then would she be freed from her nightmare. Only then would she awake, her pillow damp with sweat and a scream caught in her throat.
But this time…something was different.
There was a strange scent that mingled in the air, one that did not belong with that of the smoke and ash and burnt flesh. It was sweet and pleasant, but subtle.
Curious, she followed the scent upon the wind as she arose and ascended the steps, but her feet did not burn. When she reached the door and grabbed ahold of the handle, it was cold metal in her palm. When she pushed the door open, she held her breath, unsure of what she would find, but her eyes widened in surprise. There were no lifeless bodies to greet her, but instead in their place was a dandelion, growing between the cracks of the stone floor. Its bright yellow petals were a stark contrast to its drab and dark surroundings.
This time, when a tear began to collect at the corner of her eye, it was not born out of fear or anger or a sense of loss, but rather something she had not felt in years.
Hope. The promise of a new beginning.
Katniss awoke, startled and unsure of her surroundings at first, her skin slick with sweat and her pulse raced dizzily. Once she had managed to control her breathing, she stared up at the ceiling, confused by what she had seen in her dream. After a few moments, the chill of the room settled beneath her skin and so she slid from the bed, needing to escape. Donning her house coat, she padded across the room and unlatched the door as quietly as she could.
The floor was cold beneath her feet as Katniss crept down the dimly-lit hallway. She paused for but a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then she carefully descended the grand staircase in search of the only place she knew would ease her mind.
The hallway on the main floor was thankfully lined with lanterns and so it was with little effort that Katniss eventually located the large kitchen of Spring Haven. The embers in the large stone fireplace were still ablaze, bathing the room in a pleasant orange glow and comforting warmth.
After locating a pitcher and pouring herself a glass of water, she took a moment to explore the kitchen as the cool liquid relieved her parched throat. With a family whose fortune was built on the success of their milling company, Katniss was curious yet impressed when she came across a hutch filled with an array of earthen pots and glass bottles.
Exotic luxuries, she thought, frivolous yet intriguing all the same, like silk and spices. Taking a step closer, she studied the collection. Jars filled to the brim with nutmeg, cloves, red peppercorns, and cardamom. Dried herbs and spices she had never before heard of, and both dried and preserved fruits. She plucked one from off the shelf and inspected the contents…dried plums.
At that exact moment, her stomach grumbled despite the exquisite meal she had indulged in only hours ago. Embarrassed, she could not help but glance about the room.
Thankfully, a linen-covered tray caught her attention and when she lifted the fabric, she was delighted to find a few leftover hunks of cheese and fruit. Perhaps a late-night snack would help for she was far too awake now to return to her room. She would only twist and turn in the sheets, replaying her mysterious dream over and over in hopes of making sense of what it meant.
Nibbling on a handful of grapes, she once again looked to the pantry stocked full of jars of flour and a memory flashed through her head from her early days at Seamforth, sparking an idea in her mind. After finishing off the grapes, she carefully lifted a sack labeled "flour" into her arms.
On a harvest table by the fireplace, she spied various porcelain bowls that must have been set out that evening by the cook before she retired for the night. She lifted the linen cloth that covered one of the bowls and inhaled deeply, relishing in the scent of the slightly sweet and yeasty smell of old dough at the bottom of the bowl. It had been years since Katniss had helped Mrs. Sae prepare the daily loaves back at Seamfirth, but during the first few years, she had completed the task so many times that it had become ingrained as second nature to her.
A moment of apprehension caused her to pause, and she looked about the room to ensure that she was indeed alone, for would it not be improper for a houseguest to be caught in the kitchen covered in flour and her arms deep in dough? They would surely think her mad!
Her fingers itched in anticipation before she gave in to the urge and loosened the string around the burlap sack. After a quick scrub of her hands at the sink, Katniss scooped a handful of flour and tossed it onto the table.
The texture was smooth in her hand as she rolled a pinch of it between her thumb and forefinger; it felt nothing like the flour they used at Seamfirth. Until just recently, to aid with the finances Mrs. Sae had insisted to Mrs. Abernathy that they use the cheaper and therefore more course spelt flour that was more commonly available rather than the more expensive stone-rolled wheat flour sold in the Capitol. Even after their recent windfall, the bread at Seamfirth was hearty and dark in color, yet still pleasing in taste. The bread she had tasted at dinner at Spring Haven had been white with a light and airy texture that melted in her mouth.
Remembering her intent, Katniss returned to the pantry where she spotted what she was in search of. Procuring two large bowls from the wooden hutch, she set them down gingerly on the lightly floured tabletop.
After removing her house coat, she pushed the sleeves of her nightdress up past her elbows to prevent from soiling them but she knew it would be a vain attempt for flour was destined to cover almost every inch of her by the time she was finished. Her hands moved on their own accord as she measured out the flour, fresh yeast, and salt by the feel of the weight in her hand before adding each ingredient to one of the bowls. Slowly, she poured cool water into the bowl and mixed the ingredients with two fingers until a rough dough formed. Once satisfied with the texture, she added in a portion of the old dough from the day before and then began to work it with both hands.
Her mind had been pleasantly free from thought thus far as she busied herself with the dough, turning it out onto the table and scraping out the bowl completely before setting it off to the side. Kneading had become Katniss' favorite part of the process, the rhythm soothing as she pressed the heel of her palm into the dough down and away in one swift motion to spread it in a thin streak the full length of her arm before scraping it back onto itself in front of her. She repeated the motion over and over, humming to herself. With each passing moment, the tension in her shoulders released little by little.
She wasn't sure how long she stood at the table in the glow of the fire taming the dough, adding extra flour when needed and scrapping away at her fingers until it slowly formed into a smooth round. Katniss could not resist a smile upon assessing her work for she was quite pleased with how it had turned out. She placed it carefully into the second bowl and sprinkled a light dusting of flour over the top before she covered it with a damp linen cloth and placed it on the warm stone hearth of the fireplace to rise.
The moment she settled herself back at the table after washing the dough from her hands, movement from the corner caught her eye. "Oh!" she gasped as she jumped up from the stool, almost knocking it to the ground in her haste. "I did not think anyone was…" She trailed off as her initial shock subsided. Her face fell into an uneasy frown. "Mr. Mellark?"
"My apologies, but I could not help myself." His voice was low and unusually soft as he stepped out from the doorway. To hear him speak with such gentleness warmed her cheeks, his voice soothing and pleasant. She wanted to hear more of it.
As he approached from the shadows, his steps were slow and measured, allowing her to take him in fully. She had never beheld a young man in his night clothes before and was surprised at how…curious and excited it made her feel. The fabric of his robe hung loose around his body, and the absence of a cravat left his neck and chest bare beneath his shirt. He paused at the opposite end of the table from her, his dark gaze heavy on hers.
Alone together yet again, in a dimly lit kitchen with only the sound of their breathing and the occasional crackle from the fireplace. It was laughable now, how many rules of etiquette they were defying as they stood silent, studying each other.
Mr. Mellark lifted a hand and ran it through his unruly curls before he rested it atop the flour-covered table. His fingers lightly grazed the smooth surface before he turned to look at the glowing embers and broke their silence.
"I do not think I could ever tire of listening to you." He turned his head away from the fireplace and caught her gaze once again before he continued. "I have never in all my life heard a more beautiful voice than yours."
Had she been singing? She had been so engrossed in the motions that she could not remember. A new rush of heat rushed to her cheeks and with nowhere to hide in the man's kitchen, she retreated to the fireplace to check on the rising dough. The combination of her nerves and a crackle from the fire caused Katniss to startle as she leaned in a little too close, and the underside of her forearm brushed against the hot metal of the pot crane.
Katniss hissed, jerking her arm away and clutching it to her chest.
Mr. Mellark was at her side in an instant, grasping her hand in his own. "Let me see."
He gingerly pulled her arm out to assess the damage, but before she could answer, he bent closer as he blew lightly across her skin. The fine hairs on her arm rose and she stood frozen in place as with each pass, he hovered closer and closer. Her breath caught in her throat the moment his soft lips made contact, the gentle pressure causing her heart to flutter wildly beneath her breast. For there was nothing quite as heavenly as the feel of his lips upon her skin.
The fire snapped and popped and his head lifted. As if coming to his senses, he released his hold on her. "I fear it may leave a scar," he said as he took a step back.
The burn was long forgotten and in the place of the initial pain was a tingling that matched the brush of his lips. Katniss was tempted to feign ignorance and request he kiss away more of the pain, but he was already across the room, rummaging amongst the contents of a drawer.
He did not meet her eyes when he returned with a damp cloth in his hand and pressed it lightly against the burn. "Come," he said, leading her back to the table. She could not take her eyes off him as he stood next to her, still holding the cool cloth against her arm as he brushed the thumb of his free hand over her knuckles. When he finally ventured a glance at her, the rosiness of his cheeks was unmistakable in the firelight.
Silently, he stared down at her, his throat working as though a lump of emotion was lodged there. Without his cravat about his neck, she could make out every muscle as he did so. "Does it pain you still?" he eventually asked.
Katniss shook her head. "You have a knack for healing."
The corners of his mouth twitched as he lifted the cloth to inspect her arm. "I have dealt with my fair share of burns over the years, but I can assure you, Miss Everdeen, you will survive."
"What burns?" Unable to hold back her curiosity, she looked down and turned his free hand over to inspect the back of it. "Do you speak physically or metaphorically? For I do not see a single blemish on your gentlemanly hands."
The other hand in question tossed the cloth to the table before settling close to her side and gripping the edge of the table behind her. "Be warned," he spoke, closing the space between them. "I may be a gentleman, but when I am around you, my hands seem to have a mind of their own."
He cupped her cheek, his expression hard and the intensity of it pinning her in place. Not that she had any desire to be any place but exactly where she was. The brush of his fingertips sent ripples of liquid fire along the intimate pathways of her body.
He was so close, yet too far away all at once. A pleasant masculine scent teased her senses, soap and skin salt and an exotic spice that she could not quite place. Dropping her gaze to his lips, she licked her own. She frequently found herself fascinated with his mouth, so flawless and firm, and she was eager to know how his tasted. Before rationality could get the better of her, she leaned in to close the scant distance between them, but he pressed his forehead against hers and his eyes fell shut.
"I must confess if you continue to look at me in such a manner, I will have no choice but to claim your lips."
"My apologies, I did not mean to tempt you."
"Miss Everdeen," he murmured with an edge of warning in his voice as he pulled back slightly to look at her.
"Katniss," she corrected, her voice thin and breathless.
The corner of his mouth lifted and he made a quiet sound of amusement. "Katniss, the mere act of breath on your account is temptation enough for me."
A breathy chuckle escaped her lips. Oh, how things had changed from that first evening they met when he had claimed she was not tolerable enough to tempt him. But the hungry look in his eyes now spoke volumes of how far from the truth his initial words were, and when his hand at her side spread wide to cover her hip, she sucked in a breath.
"And if the press of your lips to mine is what I desire?" she confessed.
He shuddered and then his eyes shut for a brief moment. When they opened again, a hint of hesitation was still present as he searched her face.
"Peeta," she whispered in a tone she hoped would convey how much she yearned for his touch. Taking hold of his forearm, she squeezed it lightly, pleading for him to give her what she wanted.
"When you say my name thus, how can I deny you anything?"
His piercing stare burned through her as he leaned in, tilting his head ever so slightly, but then he paused and his exhale fanned her face. As if reading the protest in her eyes, he finally gave in and pressed his lips to hers with gentle pressure, the brushing of his lips repeatedly over hers a question awaiting an answer.
Warmth spread through her, spiraling up from her stomach to the tips of her fingers and tips of her toes. Katniss inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of him, which only further fueled her desire to truly taste him. She craved more, ached for it.
No longer satisfied with his gentle exploring, she strained upwards upon her toes. Although she did not know what she was doing, it felt right when she succumbed to instinct and sank into the feelings that overtook her. Leaning forward, she was rewarded with more of that sweet friction against his lips. The hard muscle beneath her fingers seemed to tremble as though her touch could send him tumbling.
His hand slid about her waist to gather her closer, but when his lips left hers, she almost squeaked in protest. But the squeeze at her side told her he was not yet finished with her. Then his fingers were in her hair as he cupped the back of her head, and she caught a glimpse of the wild look in his eyes. A sense of vital energy clung to him, awakening within her one that sought to match his just before his face descended towards hers once again.
This time, his mouth was more demanding, the silken brush of his tongue seeking entrance between her parted lips almost maddening. The sweet sensation as he explored the intimate confines of her mouth, coaxing her tongue to join, had her quivering against him. Her knees buckled and her legs went limp and it took all that she had to cling to him, but he did not let her go. Something deep inside her stirred, telling her this was a man who had no intention of ever letting her go.
A helpless moan slipped from her throat when his feet pushed between hers and something long and hard pressed against the intimate spot between her legs.
"Oh!" A high-pitched voice echoed throughout the kitchen. "My apologies, my lord."
Gasping, Katniss ducked her head to hide, burying her face against the solid breadth of his chest. One of his hands came up behind her, curving over the back of her head protectively. This close, she could feel the rapid beating of his heart against her cheek, and with it, a new flush of eagerness fluttered through her.
"Rue, it is alright." Laugher threaded through his voice and Katniss could feel his chest rumble with it.
What humor could the man possibly find in a situation such as this? With burning cheeks, Katniss tried to quiet her thumping heart, but to no avail. She peeked out and contemplated the girl, who looked to be no more than twelve.
"I—I was just fetching Miss Delly a pitcher of water and…I did not mean to interrupt." Rue quickly refilled the pitcher she had in her hand and then fled the kitchen.
Mr. Mellark let out a shuddering sigh. "Do not fret," he eventually murmured as he stroked the back of her head to settle her. "Rue is my sister's lady's maid, and very loyal to the family. She is not one to propagate gossip and will keep the utmost discretion."
"But what if it had been someone else?" Katniss muttered, her mind leaping from one scenario to the next.
What if it had been Mrs. Paylor or the Heavensbees? Anyone in their right mind would assume her reputation had been compromised with the way she was wrapped in his embrace. Mr. Mellark would no doubt bear the consequence of their actions, but what would he think of her then? Was she no different than his uncle? Forcing him yet again into a situation where his freedom of choice in marriage was taken from him? Her head had taken to spinning and Katniss could feel the warmth drain from her face.
"Even if it had, there is nothing to be ashamed of," he replied. "I regret nothing."
His words brought some comfort to an otherwise particularly uncomfortable situation. Although the initial shock had worn off, she was still too stunned to move. Admittedly, even if she could, she was not yet ready to leave the steady shield of his embrace for never before had she felt as safe as she did in his arms.
He continued to hold her until her breathing returned to normal. "Come," he spoke softly against her hair, and then a gentle finger lifted her chin. "I will see you back to your room."
After helping her back into her house coat, he tucked her against his side as he led her back to her room yet again. This time, she would stay put. Both were silent, but it was most likely for the best. To draw any more attention at such a late hour would be more than she could take for one evening.
Once at her door, Mr. Mellark studied her face in the dim light. "How was it you found yourself in the kitchens this evening?"
"It was a nightmare," she said, "or rather, what started as one."
Reaching out, he tucked a few strands of hair back behind her ear and then traced his thumb across her cheek. "Will you be able to sleep?"
It was then Katniss realized how truly tired she was and there was no doubt that sleep would find her swiftly the moment her head the pillow. So she responded with a languid nod.
And with a whispered 'good night' and a reassuring smile, Mr. Mellark disappeared into the shadows of the darkened hall once again.
Author's Note: So, the slow burn has finally paid off with Everlark's first kiss, and I'm eager to hear your thoughts! There are still more Everlark moments to come in the next chapter, but I can't promise we're in the clear yet. I also wanted to welcome new readers and thank those who have stuck with this story, all your lovely comments are the motivation I need to keep at it and see this story through and I love hearing your thoughts on how it's progressing.
My continued gratitude to both Louezem and deinde-prandium for their pre-reading and beta services, any mistakes you come across are all on me, whoops!
Fun Facts from Jane Austen's Time:
So I think the elephant in the room here (and previous chapters) are how Everlark are navigating their relationship and have pretty much thrown out the book on Regency Era courtship :D Normally, after a gentleman and lady had been introduced (for they could not converse with each other until introduced), the gentleman would have to seek permission to formally court a lady. Women had the power of refusal, so if a gentleman showed interest but it wasn't reciprocated, the lady could refuse his attentions and he'd be out of luck. If she accepted his attentions, then the couple could begin courting, but it was a public affair as an unmarried lady was most definitely not supposed to be alone in the presence of a gentleman.
I'm waiting for someone to say, but where are the chaperones! In this story, Peeta hasn't publically said he was courting Katniss (yet) and so he's been skirting countless rules of decorum for sure. Case and point: they've been finding themselves alone quite a bit lately, they are already using each other's first names which was seen as a very intimate thing and have been exchanging letters and gifts from the beginning. So Peeta has unofficially been courting Katniss from the beginning, he just never told her or her family, so confusing indeed for her! But he's made his intensions quite clear now and they have only really been in the presence of his family and the Heavensbee's, so we'll see how it goes from here!
A common plot device in historical romances is the "oh no someone found us in a compromising position, now we have to wed!" scenario. But in this case, yes, Rue caught them what would definitely be a compromising positon, but the last thing Katniss wants is for Peeta to feel that he's being forced to marry her…little does she know or acknowledge that he wouldn't mind at all if that was the case :D They still have a few things to clear up between them before they are both completely on the same page!
Why all the pineapple references? Well, it was a true sign of wealth during the regency for it was an exotic fruit. Some people who were lucky enough to have them only used them as a display on their dining tables and never actually at them (hence they would go to rot on the inside, ew). The fact that Mr. Mellark grows them in his special greenhouse and both displays and includes them in their meals (yes they had ice cream back then) is a true sign of ingenuity on his part and of course, wealth.
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