Chapter 2

Exposed Emotion

Jeffrey's Aunt Beatrice had yet to make it down for breakfast. It was evident that her days of hosting card parties that went a little longer than quite necessary, were coming to a close. Thus, when Gold went down he found only Jeffrey there and his nose deep in the paper. He caught Gold out of the corner of his eye, set down the paper, and brightened.

"There you are, man! One would think you had been made to stay up until all the merry guests had been persuaded to take their leave, and not gone to bed early like an old man."

"I feel old, Jeffrey, I feel old." And to prove his point, he sat down with a groan, his leg letting him know it was bound to rain at some point during the day. It had been the wettest October in remembrance, and November seemed to crave competition.

"P'shaw, you are but five years my senior and I refuse to be anything but a young man for a good ten years at least!" Jeffrey laughed.

Gold decided to refrain from saying that his friend would most likely be young in mind for the rest of his life, if his current trajectory was to be carried on, but he did not. He grunted instead and began to eat his breakfast.

"You have not asked how the party went, after you left, nor about the pretty little trespasser that you nearly scared to death. Are you not curious at all?"

"No." This was only half a lie, and ate at Gold a little, but it was enough of the truth for him not to amend his answer. He had no curiosity over the party, and he would not be telling his friend that the blue eyes of the trespasser had caused him to find little interest in his book.

"You are simply no fun at all." Jeffrey huffed and pretended to regain interest in his newspaper, but Gold could interpret his mannerisms to mean he was nearly bursting to tell all he knew.

"Out with it. I'll have no peace until you do." Gold said it as gruffly as he could, but his friend translated, rightly, his underlying curiosity. The newspaper was thrown aside and nearly took out the cream–by sheer luck it managed to stay inside its bowl.

"The girl's father, Mr. Ashe, is a gentleman, as far as these things go, though that is almost the only positive thing I can think of to say about him. Poor Miss Ashe, I can imagine why she would run away to other people's libraries." And at this Jeffrey gave a small shudder. Gold would not have admitted it, but this caused him some pause, and his curiosity to increase. Jeffrey went on. "It seems that his vice has always been the drink, cards and wagers, but his dear wife helped smooth things over with her own small share of funds, until her death. Apparently the house is crumbling around them. It did not look so very bad when I was there, everything was done properly–their refreshments were quite good–perhaps the gossips exaggerate a little on that account."

Gold looked over at his friend. "She is poor. This is not a reason to be creeping down halls in other people's houses and raiding their libraries!"

"Now that is rather an exaggeration, don't you think? You are right in one respect, if she was merely poor, I would wonder at her leaving the party, but it is the actions of her father of which I speak."

Gold gave him a glance that merely meant, "go on".

"He was one of the ones that drank in excess and poor Miss Ashe had to finally take him by the hand, and request a servant help her escort them to their carriage, for he could not walk a step and Miss Ashe is rather small. Before he got so incapacitated, that was the worst of it."

Gold knew too well the embarrassment of having a father who drank more than he ought. These things were common enough, he thought. His own circumstances had the great luck to change by late Mr. Campbell's son having found him an acceptable playmate. When his father-by-birth drank himself to death, Mr. Campbell adopted him, little knowing that his own son would die shortly thereafter. Being the kind and generous man he was, he left all his worldly goods to him, Rupert Gold, and quitted the world only a year or two after that. Gold shook off his dwellings on the past, for he did not like thinking of his birth father, and made himself focus on Jeffrey's words.

"He, Mr. Ashe, had me play Whist with him, and spent the entire time croaking on about how beautiful his daughter was, and basically trying to convince me that I was such a man who would be pleased to have her as a wife! The looks from our guests told me that this was not the first time her merits had been paraded out as a temptation for a young man. More than one young man laughed knowingly to another, and too many pointy nosed ladies turned a sneering glance Miss Ashe's way. She is a small creature, already, but she had folded in on herself so, and stood in the shadows with more success than you can, that I almost implored her to run back to the library while she could–though you would have put up a fuss over that."

"And it would not have been proper." Gold added.

"Oh, not at all–I would have sent someone to keep you both company. But no, I played the hand, nodded my head when possible, and was grateful that he was too unsteady in limb and brain to notice when I walked off. By this time, Miss Ashe had found someone to speak to–I can't remember whom. I think they must pity her–poor girl."

"You've said that often enough. Many a person has had stupid parents, I can safely vouch for that." Gold was glad to be done with breakfast and hopefully done with the conversation. He would not feel sorry for a Miss Ashe, no matter how dislikable her father, nor how pitiful her circumstances. If anything, this would be what he could tell himself any time he began thinking about her blue eyes. She would be just such a person as Coraline, hungrily searching for any man who might raise her out of poverty. Her father would be right behind her, with his grubby hands, grabbing at any money Miss Ashe would then come in contact with. Not that he had thought about the possibilities of Miss Ashe–no indeed.

"You have no heart, Gold." Jeffrey laughed, giving Gold a pointed look.

"I am well aware."

Jeffrey shook his head and got up as well. They spent the morning riding, Gold could not do it for very long, nor very hard, as the slightest movement sent waves of pain to his leg. He would not give it up, however, so he took his hour ride in the mornings for he refused to lose that bit of independence he had. He might now have enough money to drive about in whatever he chose, but he still preferred the quickness of a saddled horse. Jeffrey never complained about the speed, nor about the company. Gold would forever be surprised by his friend's determination to stand by him and it had bought him Gold's own offering of loyalty to him, regardless of how the man might irk him at times.

The rain that Gold's leg had promised, did descend right as they made their way inside the house. A solid week of steady rain prevented much exercise and Gold found himself sighing at Jeffrey's eagerness to get out of the house when it came time for another dinner party.

"Don't sigh like that. You had more cause than I to accept. Take our host and hostess, for example. They have one son to inherit their little bit of property and four lovely daughters who are not without charms and enough money so as to not make it too imprudent. I am sure any one of them would do. These country women are just the thing, you know."

"No, I do not know." Gold spat, though Jeffrey would know his tone was not one of anger towards his friend, but at a memory. "Coraline was from the country–small town,not a great amount of money to speak of. If anything, lack of funds would be a great prompt for a country girl to set her sights on my estate…But a girl of consequence would not be able to look past my past nor reputation." Gold sighed as he pursued his thoughts aloud. Jeffrey would neither agree nor disagree. His silence was enough to confirm such things, it was, after all, the very reason they were there.

He would go to this dinner party, and he would endeavor to set aside his cowardice for once, and try to interact. And that was that.

Determination is all well and good before an event, but when it is time for such things to take place, resolve can falter. So Gold found it to be that when the decently situated country home was visited and dinner was over and entertainment began, that the shadows beckoned him with such force, the temptation was too great to deny.

Someone else had found the shadows.

"Miss Ashe."

The too distant candle, just brought out the faintest blue in her eyes. He wished it were a little brighter, but then again, that would have defeated the purpose of a darker corner.

"Mr. Gold." She tilted her chin to a nearby chair, and motioned towards it though her invitation was nothing but polite duty. He was curious. Curious to see just what she would do if he were to show some interest. Would she bat her eyelashes and lean forward in pretense of enjoying his words? Would she make some insincere complement in an attempt to ensnare him? She would not be the first–even with his wish to keep from the crowd, a brave lady or two had tried to bluster their way through an introduction and ensure a connection. He could see through them, and he would see right through this girl, too.

So, he sat.

"Is there no library for you to run to tonight?" He even tried smiling. The small smile he received in return held both some surprise (most likely at his smile) and something pleasant that seemed almost genuine.

"None, sir, for Mr. Grayson keeps only a few shelves of religious books in his study. There are no great readers in this house–the Miss Graysons' talents lie in the pianoforte, of which I am sure you'll hear tonight. And I apologize, again. I truly did not mean to disturb you that night. I–I had no right to do it."

Gold's eyebrows rose. He could have foreseen the apology,despite the way she bathed it in what seemed like genuine humility, the attempt to try to reconcile so she could then build on that to weasel herself into his good graces. Yes, he could see right through her.

"You are correct, you did not." There, he would see how she would fidget and flirt her way out of that!

Something like anger and guilt warred in the bit of light he could catch in her eyes. She said nothing. The pianoforte began, and while it was not the most expertly played piece he had ever heard, it was acceptable. Miss Ashe, at this point, leaned in, as if by doing so, she could catch the notes as they drifted in the air.

"Do you play?" He found himself asking. He could have kicked himself for it. He wanted to see her performance towards him, her desperation for his attention, and here he was giving it without prompting!

"Not as well as I would like. Not as well as Miss Grayson or Miss Ruby." It was Miss Ruby Grayson who was now taking her turn, Miss Ashe's father sat with only a small group of people around him, though his words almost overpowered the performance when it began. He could see the change in Miss Ashe's face as the mortification swept over her. He heard words like, "Oh, she'll do her duty like a good girl. Always has done…like her mother that way. You'll see, she's the ticket, now why are we still sitting idle, did you not tell me a venture you knew of or not!"

Gold would not catch Miss Ashe's eyes after this. The little light there seemed to have caught the beginnings of tears, though once he had turned his head he never heard the slightest whimper. The man was an embarrassment to his sex, that was certain. Perhaps no more so than his own father had been, but he had not been a young lady to be spoken of, as if she were only part of a business scheme. The whole thing made him feel rather sick inside, despite his determination against feelings of the kind.

Miss Ruby had finished with her performance, and Miss Ashe clapped and smiled at its end, as if she had not just been nearly brought to tears. Her smile faded as the performer came over where she sat.

"There you are Belle! Will you not perform? You know how we all dearly love to hear you play and sing. Come, let me persuade you." She began to take Miss Ashe's arm in a smiling, playful manner that meant to urge her friend forward.

"Nay, Ruby, do not make me make a spectacle of myself." And she added in a smaller voice, most likely meant for him not to hear, but his ears just caught the words. "Papa has done that enough for one evening, thank you."

Miss Ruby shook her head and pulled all the harder, though still not strong enough to really be pulling in earnest. "You are being ridiculous, Belle. Come, I insist. You can't help what your father does, but you mustn't hide away in the shadows. Mrs. Ashe could not have meant this. "

Miss Ashe's face went white, though this time with pain. Miss Ruby had a blunt way of speaking that held no malice, so these words quietly spoken, only heard by the three of them were unconsciously giving fresh pain to an already strained listener (he was feeling uncomfortable, but black soul that he had, he kept his seat, telling himself that it might cause more harm to move and draw attention to his presence–though he could tell the way Miss Ashe would glance his way and not look him in the eyes that she knew he heard, though he might feign being interested in the opposite part of the room).

Despite Miss Ashe's obvious distress, her chin rose, whispered something that must have been a hesitant agreement and followed her friend to the piano and Gold placed his hands on the tip of his cane and leaned forward ever so slightly, curious to see what playing not nearly as well as she would like would produce.

He was unprepared for the melancholy sounds that issued forth. It was an older Irish tune, with words that bespoke of two people being separated and the emotions that came out of such a separation. Miss Ashe was singing it, her voice soft, not loud or commanding, but relishing in the minor notes and hitting them all with perfect grace. The tune was simple, her skill might be wanting, but her performance held every listener captive. Gold could feel his loss, fresh and new again–his heart ached as the song touched all the parts of him that he tried so desperately to suppress.

This was a wretched state of affairs. He would be reminded of it as soon as she finished and her father said something foolish in his drunken state and he would just as quickly throw out any tender emotions that had risen to the surface, however, for the remainder of the song he was thoroughly enchanted.

Author's Notes:

A few historical notes here:
Mr. Ashe speaking over a performance would have been very impolite to begin of Mrs. Bennet speaking over the performance at Netherfield, to everyone's embarrassment.

Adoption wasn't the same as it is now, but it was not completely unheard of for a ward or son-like figure to inherit when there are no others. Think of all that Mr. Wickham was supposed to inherit (despite denying it and trying again and again to get things out of him, what a mess and a villain! Lol) and the late Mr. Darcy had two children already inheriting much!

Dinner invitations were given 2-4 weeks in advance, and responses were sent back immediately. However, for the story's sake, it may seem a bit more sudden at times.

Story Notes:
Belle might seem a little quieter and meeker for the first part of this story. I promise this is intentional, the reasons will be explained and I hope you'll like the little arc she takes.

It's obvious by his speeches, that Belle's father believes he has Belle in his pocket and believes that just like the wagers he makes, that she will bring him money in marriage. This would have been difficult, as we will see later (I'm not saying anything more) but he has some crazy thought that Belle will just give up any money she receives, perhaps like her mother did before.

Ruby's last name is changed here...There's a specific reason. I've kind of shuffled a few characters around, so they aren't always with their usual families. The character should be similar enough, though :)

I am a mediocre pianist, so I made the Irish tune in a minor key, as I thought that would make it more melancholy and emotional.

I do not own any characters or story line from Once Upon a Time...just the original plot points!