The weekend of the Oxford trip commenced with entirely less drama. The sky seemed to wake up from its spring dream, and the clouds cracked open with April showers. The Midfords chose to stay indoors and have a relaxing Saturday, reading before the main room's fireplace and enjoying appetizers throughout the day. Sebastian had been to the market again that morning, and had Paula make simple cucumber bites with lox and finger sandwiches and bruschetta for snacking, while he prepared a marinade for tomorrow's lamb supper. Before that, though, he mixed yellow and blue dye in a vase of water and speared a fresh white carnation into the liquid. Throughout the day, the flower would dye to a nice seafoam color to match Ciel's ribbon for tomorrow's Easter outfit.
In the kitchen, Sebastian prepared his ingredients: a jar of local honey, another of Dijon mustard, a long sprig of rosemary, and three gibbous moons of garlic to mash into brown paste. He was in the middle of separating rosemary leaves from their stem when the kitchen received unexpected guests.
"Sebastian!" Lizzie called, hurrying up to him in that same tea gown she'd worn the day they arrived, a clear favorite. "I saw the flower you're dyeing on the window sill, and I thought perhaps you had more dye for making Easter eggs! Do you?"
Indeed he did, and plenty of eggs too, which he promised to begin hard-boiling at once. Lizzie darted back over to Ciel to give him the news. He was standing in the kitchen entrance, leaning his shoulder on the frame. Having now been embarrassed by both aunt and uncle, Ciel had at last recognized in his fiancée the one companion who wouldn't mar his pride. Lizzie babbled at him excitedly and swung one of his hands in hers. Ciel listened in the way only a boy his age listened to kind girls: with a look that said he was softly perplexed by this enchanted and enchanting person, even as long as he'd known her. Sebastian left them to their innocence as he cleared away an old wooden table in the far corner of the room which had been used for keeping the largest cook pots and roasting pans. There he laid out a number of ramekins and the synthesized dyes in their eye dropper bottles.
Sebastian boiled water in a tea kettle at the same time he boiled the eggs. When the kettle whistled, he removed it from the flame and poured equal amounts of hot water into each ramekin. Ciel and Lizzie sat on stools before the table while Sebastian instructed them in how much dye to add to the water in order to reach a desired color, and what amounts of each to mix if they wanted a more yellow green or a more delicate purple. Lizzie was enthusiastic about making the colors just right, and Sebastian heard Ciel reminding her not to put too much dye in or the pink eggs would turn out red as blood. While the two of them discussed pigments like a pair of budding art students, Sebastian removed the finished eggs from their bath, dried them, and began to draw across one's surface with a waxy white chinagraph pencil.
Ten minutes later, Sebastian brought over the eggs to see the dye mixes Ciel and Lizzie had concocted. The first ramekin contained a muddy color, a failed attempt at something, while the rest were emerald, orange, rose, yellow, and amethyst. Ciel was just finishing using a dropper to stir up a splendid indigo that Lizzie crooned was the same color as his ring. Ciel's responding expression said this was unintentional but perhaps not undesired. Then Sebastian handed each of them a pair of tongs to submerge the eggs in the hot dyed water — the longer they did so, the richer the color would turn out. Finally, at the part of the table that faced the wall, Sebastian laid out wax paper for them to allow the eggs to dry on.
Minutes later, Lizzie gave a cry of discovery. "Oh my goodness, Ciel! Look at what appeared on my egg! It's Bitter Rabbit!"
Sebastian turned to see Lizzie holding an egg aloft in her tongs. Ciel was blinking at the face of Funtom's mascot Sebastian had drawn, a white wax outline on purple that had rejected the dye. He narrowed his eyes over at Sebastian next. "You and your parlor tricks…"
"It looks just like him!" Elizabeth was bouncing on her stool. "How are you so talented, Sebastian? This is the cutest Easter egg in the whole wide world!"
"Your compliments are, as always, graciously gifted, my lady." Sebastian brought the white crayon over to her, bowing as he placed it in her palm. "You'll find that most of the eggs come without art — I would be happy to make more, if you wish, or you can design your own."
Lizzie was thrilled. "Ciel, let's design our own!"
"You go ahead," Ciel drawled, leaning on one elbow and removing an egg from the orange dye with his other hand. He gazed passively at the tiny ribbons and flowers Sebastian had etched onto the shell. "How does someone like you even think this up…" he muttered under his breath, knowing full well Sebastian could hear him.
"It's like invisible ink," Lizzie said, pressing the tip of the wax pencil to the eggshell. "I won't even know exactly what I've drawn until I dye the egg. How exciting!"
A plethora of star-studded and polka-dotted eggs were placed on the wax paper like a festive army. Ciel continued to hold his plain eggs underwater, lift them out to check the color, and then submerge them again, as if administering a trial by water. Lizzie, noticing their lack of decorations, declared that this simply wouldn't do.
"You have to put drawings on them!" she cried, holding out an unsullied egg and the crayon.
Ciel wrinkled up his nose. "I don't want to draw anything."
"Why not?"
"I never draw anything period. I see no reason to start now."
"I never draw either. It's just for fun," Lizzie insisted, puffing out her cheeks. "Please, won't you do just one? Please, please, please?"
Ciel huffed. "Fine, just one. But don't expect to see the next William Blake…" He placed the tip of the crayon to the shell and paused. "Don't watch me either. I can't focus if you do."
There being only one crayon between the two of them and no more decorated eggs to dye, Lizzie went to watch Sebastian prepare the marinade instead. She was intrigued with the way he zested a lemon, scraping only at the bright yellow layer and avoiding the white pith beneath. Then Lizzie looked on as Paula toasted little slices of bread for the bruschetta. Sebastian did admit, Elizabeth's genuine curiosity about what the staff did was highly unusual — she had certainly not been taught to treat the hired hands so obligingly. Of course the future Lady Phantomhive would be remarkable in her own way…
When Elizabeth noticed Ciel dunking his finished egg in the dye, she hurried back over to his side. "What did you make, what did you make?" she asked, peering over his shoulder into the blue water.
Ciel flinched at her unexpected closeness. He snorted. "I don't know…"
"I can't wait to see it," Lizzie said. She plucked one of her own eggs off the wax paper, admiring the small mismatched hearts freckling the pink surface. Then she gasped. "After we finish dyeing them, let's make egg hunts for each other around the house!"
"Fine. Sure." Minutes later, Ciel took his egg out of the water. Sebastian, who was drenching the iced lamb shanks in honey-mustard at the kitchen's center table, glanced over to see his master's work. It was nothing terribly imaginative — an attempt at a checkerboard pattern, the squares in varying sizes. In some spots Ciel had forgotten which squares he'd colored in and which he hadn't, so it wasn't a consistent look either. Ciel was, naturally, not impressed with his own handiwork, but Lizzie bounced on her toes in excitement.
"What a great idea!" she chirped. "It's so pretty! It's just like you!"
"How is it anything like me…?" Ciel muttered, and placed it on the wax paper beside Lizzie's many creations. "All right, I did it. You can dye the rest of the eggs, I'm tired of it already."
"Aw, but Ciel! We have eight more eggs left, and we can't let them stay white! It wouldn't be any fun!"
"Fine. You can draw on them and I'll dye them. I just won't make any more pictures."
Lizzie hummed happily in her throat. "What a nice surprise this will be for Mother and Father, when they see all our hard work!"
"A surprise?" Ciel was puzzled. "And what hard work? We're just playing around."
"But the eggs look so lovely! So of course Mother and Father will want to see them!"
Ciel looked absurdly confused. "They'd be interested in this? Why?"
Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. "Why wouldn't they be?"
"Well it's not as though this was very difficult to do," Ciel rebuffed. "I mean, especially for me. At least you put effort into yours, I just did a stupid design that I didn't really even care about. Otherwise I just held eggs in dye."
"Well, we dyed them ourselves," Lizzie reminded. "That's what makes them special!"
Ciel's face said he thought Elizabeth was over-embellishing in her usual way, but he was careful not to say anything that might insult her artwork. Paula brought over a basket, lined with hay, that she'd found in the stable, and Lizzie arranged the eggs within it to her liking. Then, one hand on the basket's handle and another clutching Ciel's, she darted out of the kitchen to the main room. Their conversation emanated merrily from around the corner.
"Look at what Ciel and I made!" the girl cheered. "Aren't they lovely? Sebastian showed us how to make patterns on them using a crayon! See, look, he drew Bitter Rabbit!"
"Wow… that's very good." It was the marquis that was speaking. "Look at all these fantastic eggs! I like this one the most. What pretty little constellations — is that Orion?"
"I made that one," Lizzie beamed. "Mother, which one is your favorite?"
"Aside from the one with the rabbit?" There was a brief silence. "This checkered one is all right. It has an orderliness to it that the others don't."
"That's the one that Ciel did!" Lizzie exclaimed.
"It looks terrible," Ciel said, and, as if Lizzie had frowned at him, tacked on, "What? I'm only being honest about it."
"Be careful with that honesty. You don't want to insult someone's opinion," Francis scolded.
The marquis spoke next. "I don't think I could have done so well at your age. To me it looks very nice."
Ciel seemed desperate to prove it wasn't. "I missed filling in some of the squares. And drawing on an oblong surface made it impossible to keep everything evenly-sized."
"Well then, that makes it even more impressive," Alexis encouraged. "Good work, children, these are delightful. Let's make them a centerpiece for Easter dinner."
Easter dinner itself went off without a hitch. Sebastian spent all day preparing it while the Midfords and the rest of the staff were at church. They attended a morning service at the Parish Church of Saint Mary and Saint John, which was just down the road from the house, and then an afternoon service at St. Mary Magdalen's, located in the Oxford city proper and promising a concert from their ten-bell arrangement. By the time the family came home at four o'clock, both Ciel and his mint flower looked wilted. Everyone was ready to eat, and Sebastian was ready to serve. The lamb was juicy and flavorful, or so the humans said, and the potatoes grand-mère was rich, and the asparagus was crisp, and the manchets were like the softest pillows. Anticipating overindulgence, Sebastian had made a lighter dessert, a Bakewell tart, but the only one with room for a slice was Ciel.
"My goodness. Don't stuff yourself so," Aunt Francis admonished. Sebastian took her empty dish away wordlessly. Though he would never voice his acknowledgment, a clean plate from the marchioness was a compliment of the highest order.
Ciel seemed to feel awkward having dessert while everyone else at the table watched. "I didn't think I'd be the only one eating it," he muttered.
"Well no law in the world says you have to finish all that is on your plate."
Alexis laughed. "Eating a holiday feast and following it up with dessert is no great feat for someone Ciel's age. I imagine you must be feeling hungry all the time now!"
Ciel did not respond, silently putting a forkful of tart into his mouth. He was still wary of his uncle and didn't want another conversation about the fundamentals of adulthood sprung on him. And heaven forbid at the dining table in front of everyone else.
"Now I feel dozy," Edward said, having joined the family at the second service, leaning down a bit in his chair. "Is it really only six o'clock? I'm practically ready to go to sleep."
"You have been keeping busy this weekend," Alexis said, taking a sip of water from a wine glass, politely declining to drink on the Holy Day. "The cricket game on Friday, and the Easter program today, and I'm sure you were busy on Saturday celebrating your victory."
"Yeah, we had a small sort of parade along the Thames, but it was cut short when it started to rain. Weston made us all an extra-nice dinner to thank us for the money we raised instead." Edward leaned forward, thinking of something. "Some of the younger boys that played were telling me that a gentleman approached them after the parade to commend them on their fielding. Said he was looking to build some sort of professional team, wanted to start training young… It made the boys very excited, but I told them to keep their feet on the ground. I don't think any Weston parents would want them to pursue such a lifestyle."
"Good." Aunt Francis was ever in-favor of demolishing castles in the air. "Besides, if anyone was playing well on Friday, it was you and the other senior boys. Why no one came up to you is what I find more curious."
"Really, Mother? You think I could play cricket professionally?"
"Now I didn't say that, Edward."
After dinner, Lizzie proposed a competitive egg hunt to her brother and fiancé, in which she would hide the eggs and they would both have to look for as many as possible, with the winner being whomever found the most. Edward's fighting spirit wouldn't let Ciel refuse the challenge; Ciel merely said he preferred this to forfeits[※], which was Lizzie's original choice of parlor game. The boys were instructed to wait in the dining room while she prepared the scavenger hunt. Sebastian watched her bounce around the main room while he poured coffee for the marquis and marchioness by their place in front of the fire. There were sixteen eggs in all scattered throughout the room.
"All right, you two!" Lizzie called, after placing the last egg in the log holder by the fireplace. "You can start searching now!"
Ten of the eggs were found within the first two minutes, six by Ciel and four by Edward. During the next five minutes, all but one was found, and Edward was behind by one.
"The last egg counts for double!" he gambled.
"Does winning matter that much to you…?" Ciel said slyly, clearly trying to goad him on. "Tying with me isn't good enough, hm?"
But apparently tying with his cousin wasn't good enough for Ciel either, because when the two of them simultaneously sighted the final egg, laying just visible between the wooden slats in the upstairs banister, they both shot each other a wild look before making a dash for the stairwell. Losing themselves in the moment, there was a little bit of pushing and general roughhousing that the marchioness was not going to have.
"Stop. Stop, stop, stop," she snipped, repeating herself thrice, as it took Ciel a little bit longer to register her command. "What are you, water buffalo? There's no need to stampede like that. You're making the whole house shake. If you're going to be raucous, then the game is over. You've both won. Now go play something quieter in the library."
"Sorry, Mother," Edward sighed, sheepish.
Lizzie hopped up from her chair in the corner. "Sorry, Mother! Well, let's go play lookabouts※※ upstairs until Edward has to go back to school!"
Ciel said nothing at the moment. But later, when it was time to get ready for bed, he declared to Sebastian fussily, "I am out of practice with parents."
Monday morning was a drizzly one, and the family seemed reluctant to leave the warmth of their house for the cold and dripping cave of a world outside. All holidays had to come to an end sooner or later, though, and by ten o'clock everyone was in their travel clothes to depart. Sebastian, Paula, Broglie, and Hammond had stayed up late cleaning the kitchen and arisen early to cover the furniture and pack their masters' belongings, so they could change the bed sheets while the Midfords ate breakfast.
Sebastian returned the horses to the stable they had been rented from and arranged for two covered hansoms to deliver everyone to the train station. Upon their arrival, each servant was equipped with an umbrella to shield the lords and ladies as they made their way inside. Tickets for a first-class compartment had been bought in advance, which was good, because much of the visiting gentry appeared to be traveling home today as well. Sebastian usually rode in the same compartment as Ciel, but of course he would not while his family was there, and so he sat in a middle-class cabin with the other servants, who, fortunately, were happy to sleep the whole three-hour trip away, leaving Sebastian to quietly contemplate.
Ciel had allowed neither aunt nor uncle to take him under their wing. As well, the vacation had not entirely seemed to relax him, as Sebastian had hoped it would. It made the demon wonder how Ciel would then respond to being the master of his own manor again: would he have a fresh sense of responsibility or would he want to slack off more than ever, delighted to be left alone, at least until the social season reached its peak? Would he want to spoil his health with more tarts and chocolate? Would he stay up into the wee hours of the morning, pushing work aside? And would Sebastian himself be forced to talk Ciel through the emotional moments when they arose?
Upcoming events would not go in this direction at all, Sebastian would eventually find out, and duty was the reason. But that discovery was yet another fortnight away. For now he could only ponder his fate, as the dull English countryside passed beyond the cabin's rain-struck windows.
The Midfords and Ciel parted ways at the South Western Railway. Lizzie gave him a tight hug and made Ciel promise they'd meet with Nina before mid-May to start planning outfits for the Royal Ascot. Alexis shook the boy's hand and covertly reminded him that they could "talk whenever," losing Ciel's eye contact completely. Lastly, Francis put her hands on her nephew's shoulders and told him that he must get his hair cut and at least consider slicking it back. Ciel sighed the affirmative, a bit sarcastically. Instead of wagging her finger, his aunt seemed to realize the impression she was giving off, and told him more familiarly that they should do this again next Easter. Then, with some awkwardness, she cupped her gloved fingers just under his jaw and looked at him as if she wanted to say more, but did not, other than a farewell. Then the Midfords went over to where a hansom that Broglie had hailed was waiting.
Nearby was a man with a capuchin monkey on a lead that Lizzie stopped to watch from afar. He had a hat on the ground with coins in it, donations from those who had seen the monkey perform. As the rain suddenly picked up, the monkey took the hat in both hands, spilled the coins onto the ground, and began using the bowler as an umbrella, chattering its sharp little teeth. Lizzie and her father began to laugh, a noise as clear and crisp as sunshine through the storm, their mirth following after Ciel and Sebastian into their own cab home.
It was still raining a week later when Soma and Agni came to the manor for a surprise visit.
Sebastian blinked at the sight of them: Soma baring a close-lipped smile, eyes sparkling, excited as a child, and Agni behind him with a black umbrella, wearing a rather apologetic grin, as if to say, "Sorry for showing up unannounced." The second thing Sebastian noticed was the carriage behind them, and how a small, tarp-covered cart had been lashed on to the back.
"Oh my." Sebastian smiled back pleasantly. "Prince Soma and Agni. To what do we owe this visit?"
Soma took a breath in and chanted in reply, "Gulab jamun! Shahi tukda! Vermicelli shrikhand! And of course — jalebi! " Then he raced past Sebastian into the manor, shouting for Ciel and taking the steps two at a time.
"The prince is as enthusiastic as ever," Sebastian mused.
Agni had the weary, adoring expression of a mother who'd been held captive by her young child and was ready to hand him off to the nursemaids. "Yes… Beg pardon. I hope that Lord Ciel is not too busy today. My prince was insistent that he could not wait any longer to visit… I suppose you heard we came to the manor on Easter to discover that Lord Ciel was away. I told him we must wait for an invitation before coming back, but—"
There was a sudden cry of distressed annoyance from the upstairs hallway, followed by a deeper one of anguish, which was swiftly abided by the two butlers.
In the study, Sebastian was faced with quite a scene: the open door showed Ciel standing up at his desk with an expression of ghastly disapproval and Soma on the floor, mourning the loss of what looked like globs of bright white porridge. Some of it was on Ciel and some of it was on Soma, but most of it was on the carpet.
Sebastian was completely clueless about what was happening, but Agni seemed to know at once. "Oh, my prince! The curd!" he gasped.
"I forgot I left it in my sash!" Soma sobbed. "And when I gave Ciel a hug, the cloth burst and now it's all over the place! Waah!"
"What the devil was this disgusting stuff doing in your sash?!" Ciel snapped, wiping at himself with a handkerchief, though it was proving futile. "And what are you even doing here?! Did you show up just to give me a hard time while I'm trying to work? You're succeeding!"
Soma sprung to his feet and clenched his fists, all traces of his sadness disappearing. "I came here," the prince declared, "because we are business partners!"
Ciel lowered his eyebrows. "We are no such thing."
"Well, I did not come here to make your job harder! I have come to help you with your work." Soma plopped his hands on his hips, closing his eyes with a look of triumph.
"I can scarcely believe that's possible," Ciel snarled. He twisted his body to allow Sebastian to tend more efficiently to the bits of curd on his jacket and vest front. "So far all you've done is cover me in this… whatever this is, and— look! It splashed on my letter to Mr. Fairclough! I've been penning that for the past twenty minutes, damn it!"
Sebastian paused his hand. "You're writing to Mr. Fairclough, my lord?"
Ciel raised his eyes at him with mild affront. "Is that a problem, butler?"
"Never, sir. Excuse my question." He finished wiping off the curd, sighing to himself with the realization that only a thorough washing could take care of this, if even. At least the young master would soon be fitted for a whole host of new clothing…
"Listen, listen!" the prince cried, tugging Ciel away by his arm once the clean-up was complete (earning Soma the rebuke, "At least warn me before you're going to fling me about like a ragdoll!"). "I have been very, very patient all of this week for you to come back from Oxford! I even waited longer than usual, so you would get a chance to catch up with your work! But then I had the most perfect idea, because I know you are looking to sell Indian sweets here in England! Why don't the two of us eat four of my favorite desserts together today and you can see which ones you like the best? Sebastian can help Agni to make them, so he will know if the process is difficult to replicate on a larger scale. What do you say, Ciel? It is a good idea, isn't it?"
Sebastian could see in the boy's relaxing posture that he was in-favor of this almost immediately, but Ciel didn't let Soma have that victory, however small. Instead he pretended to mull it over before grumbling, "All right, all right, fine. I needed a break anyway." Soma whooped with joy and threw his hands up in the air while Ciel merely stretched. "Sebastian, I want to change out of this stained thing, and then you and Agni can get to work. I don't know if we'll have all the ingredients to accommodate this undertaking, but perhaps it'll be some approximation, at least."
"Don't worry about that!" Soma announced. "Agni and I were sure to bring all the ingredients we'd need. Your markets tend not to have any saffron or cardamom seeds, after all." A teary look came back over his eyes. "Oh, right. Except… I ruined the curd we'd been hanging overnight… So I don't know how we'll make the shrikhand now…"
"Ah! Do not fret, my prince! It was only a mistake! You did not mean to do it!" Agni attempted to encourage, reaching out before him.
"Indeed. And perhaps we can still find some sort of substitute for the curd," Sebastian said, putting a hand to his chin in gentle thought. "Well then, young master, let's take care of your wardrobe, shall we?"
Once in the bedroom, Ciel sighed, holding out his arms like a scarecrow to allow his jacket to be removed. "I should have expected that nuisance would come calling on me sooner rather than later. I suppose it can't be helped. I may as well get it over with."
"A wise mindset. And I know the young master can become quite patient when there are sweets involved," Sebastian said with a grin in his voice as he buttoned on the new vest.
Ciel tugged a clean jacket back across his body. "Quiet, you. I'm still annoyed about having to entertain that spoiled princeling for the next few hours. See to it that those desserts are made in good time."
"Yes, my lord." Sebastian bowed dutifully, and the two went in their opposite ways.
The little cart Soma and Agni had brought was loaded with all sorts of things that the Phantomhive pantry was not armed with, so much so that Finny was requested to help unload. The gardener marveled at the satchel of bright orange saffron, cardamom the color of cinnamon, and, heaviest of all, a paper sack of powdered milk and another of flour. There were also pomegranates, unshelled pistachios, almonds, clarified butter, and yogurt like snow in a metal bowl.
Agni carried the yogurt in both hands into the kitchen. "I am sorry about the mess the curd made before in Lord Ciel's study," he said, placing the bowl on a countertop and smearing away rain from his forehead. "Prince Soma had been handling it in the carriage to see if he could squeeze out some of the moisture left over through the cheesecloth… He becomes quite fidgety without something to do with his hands on long rides, you see. I should have reminded him that he put it in his sash before he went running off throughout the manor."
"Not to worry," Sebastian assuaged. "It's nothing Mey-Rin can't take care of with a little soda water. Besides, this manor has suffered far worse. Isn't that right, Finny?"
"Huh?" the gardener blinked, white powder still freckling his cheeks as he set down a sack of semolina beside the rest of the ingredients.
"Never you mind. Now, off to the greenhouse," Sebastian shooed him, then removed his tailcoat and rolled up his sleeves smartly to his elbows. "All right, then, Agni. How shall we begin?"
They started with the vermicelli, cooking the short, thin noodles on the stovetop in butter until they were a golden brown. Condensed milk glued the slender pasta together, and Agni showed Sebastian how to shape the mixture with his thumb to make eighteen small nests (of course, Sebastian mastered the technique on his first try). These were brought to the dry-larder to solidify. Once that was done, the prep work towards the rest of the meals could begin.
Agni spilled the pistachios before him on a chopping block and began to butcher at them with a large knife. "Though coming to the Phantomhive manor today was my prince's idea, I must admit, I am quite glad that our sudden arrival was accepted. I feel that I learn something new each time that I talk with you, about what it means to be a butler… and lately, there is so much newness to learn."
"I wouldn't disagree with you there," Sebastian sighed, mincing almonds into impossibly even slivers. "My young lord strives to remind me of this fact on the daily."
"Your wording is all too accurate, Sebastian," Agni enthused. "Without a doubt, our masters are our greatest teachers. And it is our job to be the greatest pupils."
"… In a sense, yes," Sebastian began. "I would not say I consider myself a 'pupil' under my lord anymore. Merely that he, so I've learned, is at an age where he is very liable to change his mind quickly and to have constantly evolving expectations."
"Ah, I see." Agni's expression became troubled as he sliced open a pomegranate and began to remove the hot red seeds. "Your master is, of course, of a much nobler countenance than I was, in my previous life as a Brahmin. But I do recall being so young, and being very particular, and taking out my feelings on our family's servants when they did not do exactly as I wanted, or even if they did but I was feeling cruel. I would never insinuate that Lord Ciel would have such awful designs, but… I imagine, for him, that he is just as lost and just as wanting to be understood."
"That is how it is has been summarized to me on a number of occasions, yes," Sebastian nodded. "I recognize my young master's need for guidance, but a source is not easily found. Indeed, I was hoping over his Easter holiday that his aunt or uncle might become a designated teacher in the ways of the world, but their certain… singularities appeared to frighten my lord off." Sebastian poured cream into a bowl and began to mix it with some of the powdered milk. Then a thought occurred to him. "Considering the way you just spoke of your youth, even you could prove a knowledgeable resource to him, should he need it. Of course, I don't expect you to be constantly at his disposal, but… your influence could prove substantial."
"Me?" Agni was utterly taken-aback. He paused his hand. "Sebastian… it is a great compliment for you to consider me more experienced in certain territories than yourself… But I must ask: why wouldn't you become Ciel's mentor?"
Sebastian began to boil the mixture he'd prepared on the stovetop. "I don't believe it would be appropriate, for a butler to fulfill such a crucial role or speak so frankly with his lord."
"I must disagree with you there," Agni said, as he measured out clarified butter, sugar, and milk powder. "Prince Soma has turned to me for advice in a great number of areas, about all things that trouble him. Anything from choosing what to study that day, to what love should mean to him… and each time, these conversations have only strengthened our bond as butler and master. I wouldn't trade those talks we have for anything in the world. So, no doubt if you had such a conversation with Lord Ciel, it would be a moment of great bonding for you too!"
Sebastian wasn't sure how to tell Agni that he and his young lord had had such talks, but that any 'bonding' that came from them left a bitter taste in his mouth and a dread in his core. He shook his head. "My young master does not see me as Prince Soma sees you. It is not a boundary I wish to impede upon."
"But," Agni proposed, "what if Lord Ciel would like to see you that way? Have you asked him? Since he is changing, why should your relationship not change as well?"
"I have not asked him, no. And I shall wait for him to broach such a topic, as opposed to the other way around." Sebastian squeezed lemon juice into the milk mixture and whisked away. "Your prince does well to have your guidance. But my lord has not directly asked me to lead him, and so I will not. Now then." Sebastian poured the white broth into a bowl and moved in the direction of the dry-larder again. "Let us put all our focus into preparing the desserts, shall we?"
The stove was at its maximum capacity, each burner covered: one by a pot with hot oil, another with a syrup made from sugar, the third containing milk, and the last burner claimed by a kettle for an accompanying Nilgiri tea. Agni began to make a sort of dough out of powdered milk, oil, baking powder, and cardamom, adding water as needed. He didn't measure any of the ingredients this time, seeming to know instinctively how to make the texture just right. Meanwhile Sebastian worked on the sauce for the shahi tukda, which turned out to be an Indian version of bread pudding. The base for it consisted of boiled milk, condensed milk, and powdered milk — he hoped the excessive dairy wouldn't give his master a stomachache. Sugar, saffron, and the two types of nuts were used to flavor the sweet gravy.
Agni finished rolling the dough into spheres, the size of small apricots. He gently placed them into the oil, and they began to turn a beautiful golden brown. Then he took the syrup off the flame, and used a frying pan to lightly toast four slices of white bread. Under Agni's instruction, Sebastian made batter for the jalebi from flour, yogurt, cardamom powder, and clarified butter. He filled a piping bag with the mixture while Agni fished the balls of gulab jamun out of the oil with a slotted spoon and into the sugar syrup to soak. Once the bread was toasted and the hot oil available, Sebastian poured some of it into the empty pan and began to fry the jalebi, squeezing it out of the tube into tight spirals.
Agni chuckled a bit. "The shape is so perfect. That does not look like any jalebi I have ever seen."
In short order, the spirals went into their own bath of sugar syrup. "This isn't terribly difficult to make," Sebastian noted. "If my young master enjoys this, I shall fix it for him more often."
"Oh! I hope that he does!" Agni beamed. "I know he is probably not used to many of these flavors, but you should have seen how delighted my prince was when he found out Lord Ciel wanted to sell Indian desserts. Prince Soma has very much enjoyed learning about English culture. I know that sharing his heritage in return has been very rewarding for him." Agni clasped his hands together, suddenly tearing up with joy. "My prince has made his first diplomatic relationship! What a beautiful adult he is becoming!"
Suddenly there was the sound of fast feet and laughter crashing down the hall off the kitchen. Agni and Sebastian turned around to see Soma race in. Above his huge grin, he was wearing an eye patch. Sebastian stiffened; had he actually taken Ciel's eye patch away from him? But the prince was only playful, not mean. Ciel stormed in a moment later, his own patch still adorned.
"Agni, protect me!" Soma shouted with glee, dashing behind his butler with arms outstretched. "I've made Ciel mad!"
"Ah! Prince Soma, please be careful! There is hot oil here!"
"You'd know if I was mad. I just want you to take it off already," Ciel huffed, folding his arms and tapping his foot, like a tiger with its tail aflick. "That touches my face, you know. It feels weird to have you wearing it."
"So this is what it's like to be Ciel Phantomhive," Soma giggled. "Though I suppose I should bend down a bit more if I'm really going to be you… There we go! Now I can see what you can see!"
Ciel was annoyed. "Oh, what a hilarious little game. And don't I wish I had the luxury of pretending I only had one eye."
Sebastian knew that his master felt relatively indifferent (he was, of course, not actually lacking the eye), but Soma was immediately apologetic. "Ah! I'm sorry, Ciel! I wasn't trying to be heartless! I just wanted to understand what it is like to be my very best friend in all of England!" Soma jogged out from behind Agni and accidentally hit the kitchen table with his knee. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow!"
"Ah, Prince, you must be careful!" Agni repeated.
Ciel held out his hand. "Serves you right. Now take that thing off already and give it back."
Soma rubbed his knee while Agni worked at the patch's tight knot. "It is so much harder to tell where things are with only half of my vision! How do you do it, Ciel? I have never seen you walk into anything at all."
"It isn't hard once you get used to it," the earl snorted. "You just have to be more aware of your surroundings if you're in a new place."
Sebastian smiled to himself. He remembered the early days, before Ciel had become adept at navigating with monocular vision. The boy had already been so fragile then, too. He'd had to learn a whole new set of visual cues so he could sit down without stubbing his toe on the leg of a chair or table, turn a corner without his shoulder clipping it. It was far from the hardest task Ciel had faced when practicing to become Earl Phantomhive. It still didn't help that during his first week back in the manor, he was adding new bruises on top of his old ones.
"Are you almost done with the desserts already?" Ciel turned to Sebastian to ask.
"Indeed, sir." Sebastian bowed a fraction. "A quarter of an hour more and it will be ready to serve."
Agni finished untying the knot and immediately gasped. "Oh! Sebastian! I completely forgot to make a replacement for the curd! What are we going to do about the shrikhand?"
"Don't worry." Sebastian pointed to the door of the dry-larder. "The mascarpone I prepared while we were talking earlier should have drained enough to suffice."
"I'm so full, I can't move," Ciel said (a statement he hadn't made in ages), leaning back in his armchair with a hand over his stomach. "I didn't expect to fill up so fast…"
Soma selected another orange curl of jalebi and snapped it up. "Yes, it is very filling, all milk and bread and sugar! And that is why it is so delicious!"
"I don't even want to think about food anymore." Ciel closed his eyes. "Sebastian, remind me to ask you about how the preparation went later. I can't do it right now."
"Aww! I cannot even ask you about which one your favorite was?" Soma whined.
Ciel conceded that much. "I liked the ones that looked like little nests. If it's not chocolate, my next favorite dessert will always be fruit."
"The vermicelli shrikhand was good, but it would have tasted better with curd instead of mascarpone," Soma said. "I wish I hadn't dropped it! Shrikhand made authentically is the best!"
"That is the only dessert I feel would be difficult to mass-produce," Sebastian interjected. "The other three should be possible to replicate en masse… though the expense of saffron might add up."
Ciel waved his hand. "No more talking about food from here out. I mean it."
Soma changed the subject with ease. "Oh, that's right, Ciel! I needed to tell you that I received an invitation to the Royal Ascot from the Queen a few days ago! This will be my first year attending, and I am so excited to go! You received one too, yes?"
"First of all, it's pronounced 'Asket,'" Ciel grumbled drowsily, "and yes, of course I did. The Phantomhives have been in attendance long before I was born."
"Horses are far less interesting and less beautiful than elephants," Soma said, "but they can go faster than elephants. I'll give you Englanders that much."
"It isn't as if India doesn't use horses too."
"And camels," Soma nodded, "but the elephants are my favorite. If only we had an Ascot for elephants, but I think that would be far too dangerous. But it sure would be funny!"
"I told you already, it's pronounced 'Asket.'"
"Oh, Askaht, Asket, does it really matter as long as you know what I am saying?"
"Well if you misname it on race day, no one is going to be able to take you seriously."
"All that matters is that Ciel takes me seriously!"
"I take you less seriously than anyone else on the whole bloody planet!"
After another half hour of this banter, the sky began to darken, and Soma and Agni said their goodbyes. Finny was tasked again to help them pack up their ingredients. While the servants loaded the cart, Soma made Ciel similarly promise to see him again before April was over, perhaps once the weather improved, if it improved. Then the carriage went off into the spring dusk and the house was quiet again.
"Hopefully that should satisfy him for the next few weeks," Ciel sighed, pacing back up the front steps with Sebastian behind him. "What a disruptive afternoon… and I still feel stuffed."
"Perhaps a light dinner, later in the evening, will suffice tonight?" Sebastian offered.
"Yes. That'll do." Ciel walked back in the direction of his office, Sebastian joining him momentarily to clear away the dessert platters. The boy plopped down at his desk, made a small noise of disappointment when he remembered Soma had ruined his letter, and set down a new piece of parchment to copy it over.
Sebastian knew the contents of the letter were none of his business. But a sort of curiosity came over him when he remembered how well the boy had gotten along with Fairclough. Perhaps it had all been a show to get away from his uncle but… Ciel had had a long conversation with Fairclough at the cricket match. The boy rarely subjected himself to long conversations, unless propriety demanded it, sometimes not even then. Ciel had also felt comfortable enough to tell Fairclough about the incident at the Goode's party, too, despite having met in-person for the first time that very night. A certain level of trust had already been built, even after only two meetings. Perhaps… Perhaps the very mentor that Sebastian sought out for Ciel could be found in this mysterious, wealthy gentleman?
If Ciel invited Fairclough to the manor, Sebastian would see how the two interacted further. With guaranteed visits from Soma and Nina again, as well, it was certain to be a very busy month. The social season was upon them. Invitations from dukes and marquesses, viscounts and barons, would start pouring in, as they always did. During the height of the season, one day might include a recital in the morning, a tea in the afternoon, and a banquet at night. Ciel had a rule that he would only attend one masquerade per season (at Lizzie's prodding), and tended to go to as many private concerts and poetry readings as he was invited to — not because he liked them, but because it meant he didn't have to talk very much yet could still keep up appearances. Of course, there would be balls and dances too… and those were Ciel's least favorite of all.
Sebastian, though more tolerant, didn't much like this time of year either, unless he was in charge of planning the event himself. And who knew how moody Ciel would become with such a full schedule? As his little lord became a less-little lord, so he too became less predictable. Sebastian did not want to endure another candid conversation with his master. The 'beast of sympathy' inside the demon had finally quieted, and he had no plans to wake it from its slumber.
One week later, Sebastian's prayers, if one could call them that, were answered. Another letter imbued with the royal seal came in the post. Sebastian knew by the stateliness of the deliveryman that this was no mere invitation to the grandest horse race in Europe. The wax was stickily soft; the address was a terse scrawl. A hasty hand had prepared this letter and hastier traffic had brought it to their doorstep.
Sebastian's mouth curved up in a wicked little grin. Ciel's social calendar would be wiped clean at once. This was no time for play. The Queen's watchdog had been summoned to the hunt.
※: Forfeits is kind of like truth or dare, but there's only dares. Everyone gives up an item of moderate importance to the "judge." The judge then decides what task the player must perform in order to win their item back. Usually the things you have to do to get your item back are somewhat embarrassing (dancing or imitating an animal or doing a tongue twister), so Ciel was really not interested in playing.
※※: Similarly to the egg hunt, with lookabouts, one person hides a small object in a room while the others search. But instead of taking it when it's found, the players sit down until the others see it. Probably not very much fun with only three people!