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chierafied · 4 years ago

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Affection and Admiration (SKW2020D6)

For SessKag Week 2020, Day 6 - Historical Romance.

A Victorian AU for @sayuri-watanabe, because I owed her one and because her Victorian SessKag fan art gives me life, go check it out!!

Also posted on AO3, Dokuga and FFnet!

Sesshoumaru stood in the corner of the ballroom, sipping his third glass of wine.

He had not wished to attend Lady Sutton’s ball and would have remained home, hiding in the library of Westerley Hall as he had every night the past month if not for the insistence of her grace the Duchess of Westcliff – his mother.

She had written him a stern letter demanding him to stop “moping around” or else she would have no choice but to come to pay him a visit to help cheer him up.

Her horrid threat had worked, so here he was, gracing Lady Sutton’s ballroom with his presence, and hoping that the rumours that were bound to start circulating about his appearance would reach his mother’s ears so that she might stay back in the Westcliff House in Cornwall – and as far from Sesshoumaru's estate in Somerset as possible.

His mother’s visit would do nothing to improve his abysmal moods of late. If anything, she would only grate on his nerves further.

Still, Sesshoumaru was not enjoying his time at the ball.

He was too aware of the stir he was making; the not-so-subtle glances sent his way. The whispers slithering in the air around him had his hackles standing up.

Knowing he was the cause for gossip among the ton was infuriating.

But still, much as he loathed his current predicament, Sesshoumaru had to concede that it could have been much worse.

For one thing, the gossip would be much more abundant were he in London.

And at least his new appearance and the dark glower he had adopted was making everyone give him a wide berth.

There were no eager young misses coming to flirt with him in the hopes of acquiring the attention of the heir to a dukedom. No curious men or women wishing he’d regal them with heroic stories of the war.

No, he was left quite alone, and that was how Sesshoumaru was most content; in the sole company of his wine glass.

And then, just as that thought had flitted through his head, someone did approach.

Sesshoumaru gripped the stem of his glass so tightly it bit into his skin.

Lady Bentham stopped in front of him and dipped into a curtsey.

“Sesshoumaru, how are you? It has been so long since I last saw you.”

The words were polite enough, but they set Sesshoumaru’s teeth on edge.

What was she doing here? How dare this woman address him with such familiarity?

Bad enough that she was speaking to him out in public.

“I am as well as can be expected,” he replied stiffly. And in deliberate slight, did not enquire after Lady Bentham’s wellbeing.

But she did not take the hint, merely smiled at him.

“I am glad you have come back to England unharmed. Your father was quite beside himself when you bought your commission.”

Sesshoumaru bristled at the mention of his father.

It was true that the duke had been furious when Sesshoumaru had decided to purchase a commission. He had not wanted his only heir to go off fighting in the war, risking both his life and the continuity of their esteemed line.

And if truth be told, Sesshoumaru’s main motivation behind his decision had been to spite his father. After the scandal the duke had wreaked in the London society, Sesshoumaru had little respect left for him.

He wanted to lay the blame at Lady Bentham’s door.

Everyone in town – in much of the country – was aware of the affair.

But no matter how convenient assigning the blame would have been, Sesshoumaru could not find fault in Lady Bentham. It had always been clear to him that Lady Bentham’s affection towards his father was genuine. And truthfully she was the more innocent party – Lady Bentham had been, and still remained, a widow. Unlike his father, she was not beholden to any marriage vows that their liaison might violate.

“Unharmed?” Sesshoumaru scoffed, all too aware of the half-empty sleeve of his dress-coat, carefully pinned to place earlier by his valet. “Hardly.”

“Unlike so many soldiers, you have come back and that is all that matters,” Lady Bentham insisted.

Sesshoumaru might have taken comfort from those words, had it been anyone other than Izayoi who had offered them.

“And why are you in Bath?” he asked instead, unable to withhold his curiosity.

As far as he knew, Lady Bentham preferred to stay in London, in the expensive apartments Sesshoumaru’s father provided for. And Somerset, after all, was much too close to Cornwall.

“A dear friend who’s taking the waters here invited me to come and visit. And the Duchess was curious to know how you have been faring,” Izayoi replied.

Sesshoumaru turned to stare at her.

“The – my mother has been corresponding with you?” he asked, scarcely believing the insinuation.

Lady Bentham shrugged delicately. “We came to an understanding long ago.”

Discomfited by this new information, Sesshoumaru turned away from Izayoi.

Wishing for a distraction, he let his gaze wander around the ballroom.

And that was when Sesshoumaru’s world came to a stop.

The eyes that met his held his gaze for a lingering second. Then, there was a smile – soft, a little shy, but most importantly, honest.

Sesshoumaru was struck by it, and he turned back to Lady Bentham.

“That young miss across the room in the yellow dress – do you know her?”

Lady Bentham peered across the room and frowned.

“I’m afraid I’ve never seen her before… But the lady she’s with… I believe I might be acquainted with her.”

“Excellent.” Sesshoumaru drank his remaining wine and set the empty glass aside.

Then, he offered his arm to Lady Bentham, who was eyeing him curiously. “You can introduce us.”

“Gladly,” Lady Bentham said, offering him a smile before lightly placing her hand on his arm.

It was a curious set of circumstances, Sesshoumaru reflected, to be escorting his father’s mistress across a ballroom. He’d always contrived to keep as much distance from the woman as he could – especially in public. But now it appeared Izayoi’s presence would help him gain something very valuable indeed.

They stopped at a short distance from the pair of women. Izayoi took a step toward them, while Sesshoumaru stayed still, studying the young lady who’d caught his attention.

“Lillian? Is that you?”

The older of the two women smiled and stepped forward to meet Lady Bentham.

“Izayoi! What a lovely surprise, seeing you again.”

“Indeed it is. I must apologise that I never did write to you. Many times I intended to pick up the pen but that never bore any fruit.”

“There is no need to apologise, dear Izayoi. That is long past, and life has conspired to bring us together again.”

“To our luck and my delight,” Izayoi agreed.

“Lady Bentham and I used to be dear friends in our youth; we debuted the same year, you see,” Izayoi’s friend explained to the young woman Sesshoumaru was still intent upon. “This is my daughter, Kagome.”

The young woman in a yellow dress – Kagome – bobbed into a curtsey.

“Ah yes, where are my manners tonight. Lillian, please allow me to introduce the Earl of Westerley. My lord, this is my dear old friend, Miss – oh, wait, you are married now, aren’t you, Lillian?”

“I was, yes. I’m pleased to meet you, my lord.” The woman curtseyed. “I’m Mrs Highbridge. And this is my daughter, Kagome.”

At last.

Sesshoumaru bowed; the soul of courtesy. Most of the time, he did not care one whit about the impression he might make, as he cared very little about the opinions of other people.

But this time he was fully invested and wished the young Miss Highbridge to regard him well.

“Mrs Highbridge, Miss Highbridge, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Once again, he met Miss Highbridge’s eyes – and now, being at much closer a distance, he saw they were a vibrant, cerulean blue.

So thoroughly enchanted Sesshoumaru was by this woman, that when the first strings sounded the beginning of a waltz, he almost asked her to dance.

The words were already waiting on his tongue when he remembered.

He was unfit to hold a woman in his arms, disfigured as he was.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his knuckles whitened as his only remaining hand balled into a fist.

She was smiling at him.

Sesshoumaru stared at the sweet, kind girl and wondered why he had crossed the room to her in such a haste, why he had wrangled an introduction out of Izayoi.

His station might have been the higher one, but it was suddenly so clear that a girl like her deserved so much better than a deformed and embittered earl like him.

And then Sesshoumaru was jolted out of his dark thoughts when help arrived from an unlikely source.

“Now that I do have a chance, I would very much like to catch up with you, Lillian,” Izayoi said, clasping her hands.

“I feel the same,” Mrs Highbridge replied with a smile, “but I’m afraid such accounts would bore our young companions.”

“Perhaps Westerley might take Miss Highbridge to view the gardens? Lady Sutton’s gardens have such glowing repute.”

“I would be delighted,” Miss Highbridge spoke, “but I would not wish to impose.”

Blast it all, even her voice was sweet.

“I would be honoured,” Sesshoumaru replied – which, after all, was the truth.

The smile Miss Highbridge gifted him with was both shy and hopeful, and Sesshoumaru had no choice but to offer her his arm.

She laid her hand on it, the light yellow kid glove matching her ball gown bright against the grey sleeve of his coat.

Sesshoumaru escorted Miss Highbridge to the other side of the ballroom, where the doors leading out to the lantern-lit garden outside stood open.

Stepping out into the cool evening air was a relief even as Sesshoumaru’s shoulders remained tense.

Much as he had desired to be in Miss Highbridge’s company he found himself unnerved by the current situation. She was sweet enough a creature, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t sure he was much of an escort.

After the past two years spent on various battlefields, could he still play the part of a gentleman, and escort a young lady in the appropriate courtly manner? Or had the scars from the war rendered him a right boor?

There was only one thing of which Sesshoumaru was certain: soon enough, Miss Highbridge would tire of his dour disposition.

“It is so much nicer out here, don’t you think, Lord Westerley?” she said into the reigning silence.

“It is, yes. Such a relief to get away from the crowd,” Sesshoumaru replied truthfully.

“Truly! I couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable,” Miss Highbridge confessed. “I’m not used to such high society.”

“You did not look at all discomfited to me,” Sesshoumaru said, a little taken aback by Miss Highbridge’s admission. “Your mother said she had her season with Lady Bentham?”

“Yes. My mother is a daughter of a peer; my grandfather is Baron Lymington,” Miss Highbridge said. “But most of my life I did not know my grandfather at all. He wished her to marry well and that is why he wanted her to have a season. Instead, my mother fell in love with a clergyman.”

Sesshoumaru nodded, understanding too well that an ambitious baron would not have approved of a marriage to a clergyman, likely the second son of some landed gentry. The match had been below Mrs Highbridge and would have brought no prestige to her father.

But, he supposed, it could be forgiven if it had truly been a love match.

“And now it’s my turn,” Miss Highbridge said.

It was the slight tremor that caught his attention, the way her fingers clenched on his arm that belied her distress.

“Your turn, Miss Highbridge?” he asked, gentling his tone.

“My father passed away last year,” Miss Highbridge said.

“My condolences,” Sesshoumaru said, belatedly realising he should have guessed from the manner of Mrs Highbridge’s dress that she was still in half-mourning and understood the implications of what that would mean for Miss Highbridge.

Just one more indication of how unfit he was for society in his current state.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice soft. After a moment of silence heavy with sorrow, Miss Highbridge drew a trembling breath to continue. “Since then, my grandfather has reconciled with my family. I suspect the fact that my younger brother stands to inherit his title probably spurred this change of heart.”

“Most likely,” Sesshoumaru agreed, pleased by Miss Highbridge’s perception.

“I’m no longer a clergyman’s daughter but the sister of a future baron. As such, my grandfather has decided that I, too, should have a season.”

“I see. That does seem like a logical suggestion,” Sesshoumaru said.

“I suppose,” Miss Highbridge sighed. “But I am not looking forward to it. If just this one ball in Bath plays on my nerves this much, I can only imagine how out of place I will feel in London. What if I make a fool of myself in front of the Queen?”

“Your mother should be able to prepare you well enough as she was presented herself. Is your family staying in Bath?”

“Yes, my grandfather has been coming here several years now for his health. We are returning to Hampshire in October.”

Sesshoumaru inclined his head. “Although I have been away from civilisation the past few years and as such am not the best person to offer any kind of guidance to you, I still wish to make the offer to you, Miss Highbridge. Should you require any assistance navigating the society during your stay here in Bath, I would be honoured to offer you my services.”

Her fingers squeezed his arm and a brilliant smile lit up her features as she turned towards him.

“Oh, I would like that very much,” she told him. “I’m sure it would be most helpful.”

“I’m glad,” Sesshoumaru said, the corners of his own lips quirking up. “Now, let us return to the ball before the tongues begin to wag in our absence.”

“If we must,” was Miss Highbridge’s resigned reply.

As they walked back to the ballroom, the scent of roses heavy in the evening air, Sesshoumaru’s heart felt lighter than it had in years.

After two weeks in Bath, Kagome still felt very much like a fish out of water.

She was not made for a life in the city and missed Hampshire with her whole heart.

Closing her eyes, she could see the vicarage she’d grown up in, with its back garden.

The winding country lanes she had so often walked along with. The stretching green grass bowing to the summer wind, rich with the scent of wildflowers from the meadows. The canopy through which the sunlight streamed, as the branches of the trees lining the road reached across it overhead. The cattle peacefully grazing out in the pasture.

In the city, there didn’t seem to be all so much do to help fill her days.

The social events were the highlight of the city life, and in the past two weeks, Kagome had only been to a handful of those, even though her grandfather left the house nearly daily to see his friends at the famed Assembly rooms.

Kagome was only glad he had thought it best for Kagome and her mother to stay behind. She’d heard the balls and other evening activities were popular enough to veritably crowd the rooms.

Because her mother was still in mourning, and because Kagome still hadn’t had her season and made her debut, it had been agreed to limit the social engagements they took part in.

Kagome was glad for the excuse, even if she did not fully agree with it.

She was a couple of years older than most young women making their debut were, and had been of a marriageable age for a while now.

More importantly, she had not grown up in a world where a London season would be expected of her.

In fact, had she chosen differently, she might already be married now – maybe even a mother in her own right!

But she had turned down the proposal from the young, local man who had been paying suit to her a few years earlier and because of that decision, was now facing the dreaded marriage mart.

Now, by nature, Kagome was a social person. She certainly preferred to keep company to being alone.

But she was painfully aware that even with the upbringing her mother had given her, even though she had lived comfortably as a daughter of the gentry, she did not possess the peerage of the people her grandfather, as a peer himself, associated with.

Suddenly thrust among folk much finer than herself, she was deathly afraid of making a mistake, making a fool of herself, unwittingly insulting someone or causing some sort of a scandal.

And while it would be embarrassing to be the talk of the town, she was more concerned as to how her behaviour would reflect on her family.

Her mother had certainly suffered enough.

And her grandfather… Well, they had mended the fences and he did mean well, Kagome was certain… but their entire arrangement was still new and thus vulnerable to any possible blows it might suffer.

Honestly, without the kindness of Lord Westerley, Kagome would be totally lost.

Since Lady Sutton’s ball, he had been at every social engagement Kagome had attended – which was no surprise, as surely no one would deny him entrance, even if he hadn’t received an invitation.

On their second meeting, Kagome had been rather shy at first.

After getting home from Lady Sutton’s ball, her mother had informed her that Earl of Westerley was merely the young man’s courtesy title and that he was, in fact, the heir to a dukedom!

Knowing that her companion was in possession of such high prestige and status, she had been veritably tongue-tied.

He had coaxed her into a conversation, though, and soon enough she had completely forgotten herself. And then apologised, her cheeks flaming, because she’d suddenly realised she’d been prattling and recalled how her grandfather said that she talked too much.

But Lord Westerley had brushed her apology aside and said that he enjoyed her conversation.

There was just something about him that set Kagome at ease – which, given their vastly different social backgrounds was odd.

Still, by Lord Westerley’s side, Kagome felt self-assured. He helped her feel like she actually belonged.

The drawing room door opened, snapping Kagome out of her thoughts.

Guiltily, she glanced down to her lap, at the embroidering she’d been neglecting, being too busy daydreaming about Hampshire and pondering the enigma of Lord Westerley.

Her mother, sitting on the settee by the window, offered her a smile.

Then, they both looked up, as Baron Lymington, Kagome’s grandfather, entered the room, leaning on his cane.

There was an unusual spring to his step, and Kagome wondered at what had put him in such a good mood. Had the waters today been particularly helpful with his pained joints?

She soon discovered the reason behind his cheer, as after her grandfather had taken his seat, she found herself the sole holder of his attention.

“My friend today told me the most remarkable thing,” he said, his shrewd eyes steady on Kagome. “He said that you, my dear girl, had been seen several times in the company of the Earl of Westerley. Is that true?”

Kagome blinked, then blushed. She had not been aware that people had paid attention to the fact that they had been keeping each other company.

“It is,” she admitted, fighting not to fidget under her grandfather’s scrutiny.

“They were introduced at Lady Sutton’s ball,” her mother added.

“Were they indeed?” her grandfather chuckled. “Excellent! Perhaps if we are lucky, there will not be a need for you to have a season, after all, Kagome.”

This time, Kagome could not help squirming in her seat. Her cheeks warmed, and deep dismay plunged into the pit of her stomach like a heavy stone.

Lord Westerley had offered her his company and help out of kindness and gentlemanly virtue. To suggest any ulterior motives – even of the romantic persuasion, which was a preposterous notion in itself – was absolutely slanderous and Kagome felt insulted on Lord Westerley’s behalf.

And to suggest that she and Lord Westerley might marry – Well!

She knew her grandfather was wishing for an advantageous match, but someone of the likes of Lord Westerley was well above Kagome’s station.

Perhaps Kagome’s mother sensed her unease, for she spoke into the stretching silence.

“I do not think Lord Westerley’s conduct so far is enough to hold on to hope that he might intend to pay court to Kagome,” she said.

Baron Lymington harrumphed. “He has never shown much interest in any young lady, yet he has sought out Kagome’s company on several occasions. That is indication enough, I should think!”

“But only at social events,” Kagome’s mother pointed out, slanting Kagome a quick, reassuring glance. “He has not come to call to us here, nor ventured to seek Kagome’s company outside the social engagements we’ve attended.”

“A matter that will be remedied,” Kagome’s grandfather said with a decisive nod. “We shall host a dinner party and extend him an invitation.”

Kagome bit her lip to hold in the string of objections teeming in her throat.

“Father, I really do not think –” her mother tried, in vain.

“Enough. You will see it done, won’t you, Lillian?”

Kagome’s mother sighed. The quick glance at Kagome was apologetic.

“Yes, father. I’ll see to it.”

Kagome stared down at her forgotten embroidery, her heart heavy in her chest. The cold trickle of fear slid down to her stomach and she fervently hoped that her grandfather’s lofty aspirations would not spoil the tentative friendship building between her and Lord Westerley.

The invitation to dine with the Highbridges and Baron Lymington, when it arrived, was a surprise. Not only because it was something Sesshoumaru had not been expecting, but because instead of his usual ire, he found himself smiling down at the card.

Of course, he knew that it was very unlikely that Miss Highbridge herself was behind the invitation, but the promise of being able to see her was enough reason for Sesshoumaru to accept and so he had.

At the dinner party, to which Lord and Lady Sutton and their daughter had also been invited, it swiftly became evident that Baron Lymington was most keen to enhance his granddaughter’s prospects and to encourage Sesshoumaru to pay court to her.

It was equally obvious to Sesshoumaru that Miss Highbridge herself was utterly mortified by this idea.

In fact, while Sesshoumaru had been escorting her to the dining room, she had profusely apologised for her grandfather’s assumptions in a hurried whisper. In a low voice, Sesshoumaru had reassured that he did not feel insulted.

And that was true enough. Usually, such obvious attempts from his fellow peers to throw their daughters and granddaughters at him in hopes that one of them might drag him to the altar were met by sneers.

But this time, the familiar irritation was curiously absent.

Sesshoumaru pondered on this abnormality throughout all the three courses served. At dessert, he had reached the conclusion that, short as their acquaintance had been, he did harbour some affection for Miss Highbridge.

The world seemed brighter when he was in her presence, which was something he could confidently say no other young woman before her had accomplished.

He had not been considering marriage, to anyone – especially since after coming back from war disfigured and embittered. As the heir to his father’s title, he knew that marriage and, following it, continuing his esteemed line was a duty he would be eventually expected to perform. But all that was something Sesshoumaru had always thought of in the abstract; a faraway thing he would not need to worry about for several more years.

But, perhaps, should his prospective bride be Miss Highbridge…

He met her eyes briefly, warmed by the small smile she offered him.

Yes, perhaps with the right choice of bride he might be persuaded to contemplate the merits a matrimony would bring.

Later, sitting in his carriage on his way back from the city to his estate, with the cold and rainy summer evening causing a dull ache to creep up where his left arm had once been, Sesshoumaru’s glum mood returned.

He would be disappointing Lord Lymington and his high expectations.

It would be best, for everyone involved that he only admire Miss Highbridge from afar. Even should he develop any intentions towards her, he certainly should not divulge them and burden her with them.

He respected Miss Highbridge enough to admit that she deserved much better a husband than Sesshoumaru could offer her.

She deserved someone whole, someone who could give her the kindness and care she needed. Someone who not only could enjoy the light and the sweetness she exuded but to give fertile ground for them both to grow.

Sesshoumaru could provide her with none of that.

The admission stung and Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, leaning against the wall of his carriage and willing his emotions away.

To Kagome’s relief, her friendship to Lord Westerley remained intact despite of her grandfather’s antics.

He treated her with his usual courtesy after the dinner party, seemingly not offended at Kagome’s grandfather’s blatant engineering towards a potential match.

Of course, just like Kagome had known, the invitation had not encouraged him, either.

His behaviour had stayed perfectly gentlemanly after the dinner party. They’d continued spending time together at the social engagements they were both attending, but they had not seen one another outside of them. Not once had Sesshoumaru come to call in the townhouse Kagome’s family has leasing.

And while Kagome was glad of it, since something like that would only spur her grandfather on, a part of her also wished she could see Lord Westerley more often.

It wasn’t just because of his silent support or the way he made her feel.

Their conversations were always fascinating, and though he did not always say much, the words he did offer stayed with her even days after.

A couple of times, Kagome had even caught herself composing a letter to Lord Westerley in her head, just detailing her day’s events or to discuss with him a topic that just occurred to her.

But of course, no correspondence between could ever take place.

She would not bring shame to her family in the form of a scandal.

That day was like many others, and once again Kagome was missing her old home in Hampshire most keenly.

She was bored and the walls of the townhouse were starting to close in. She needed to get out.

Kagome informed her mother that she would go visit the shops and promised to take Rin, the serving girl, with her. In short order, she had donned her jacket, bonnet and gloves.

When she did step out onto the street a moment later, Rin following after her, Kagome was already breathing a little easier.

Once she reached the book store and walked in through the door, she was smiling.

Kagome soaked in the peaceful atmosphere of the book store, observed the customers in the store, and lost herself browsing the poetry books.

She ended up buying two books and decided that she would spend a while just walking around before returning to the townhouse her family currently resided in.

Kagome walked along the streets of Bath, looking at the stone facades of the buildings lining it. After a little bit of coaxing, she managed to get a nice conversation going with Rin.

It was a pleasant day, and Kagome’s mood had been greatly lifted. The sun was warm but not too hot, she had two new books to entertain herself with, and the serving girl was chatting happily as she trailed after Kagome’s steps.

The smile playing on her lips, however, pulled into a frown when there was a commotion from behind them, yells and the hooves of a horse clattering on the cobblestone street.

Kagome glanced behind them and with a gasp grabbed a hold of the serving girl’s arm. She dashed to the side of the street, dragging the poor, stumbling Rin along.

Kagome’s heart was beating wildly and her breath was still lodged in her throat as a phaeton driven by a young man and pulled by two horses sped past them with a clatter.

For a moment, the two young women just stood there and trembled, catching their breaths.

Then, Kagome turned to Rin.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, miss,” she replied, her eyes still round. “That really scared me!”

“Me too,” Kagome said. “What an irresponsible driver. I suppose we had better head back home then.”

“As you say, miss,” Rin agreed.

They came to a halt soon enough, when it became obvious something was awry.

“Miss?” Rin called out hesitantly, then winced. “I think I’m not all right after all.”

“What is it?” Kagome asked, immediately concerned.

“I must have twisted my ankle, miss. It hurts when I walk.”

“Oh, how terrible! Come, Rin, lean on me and we’ll make haste back home. Can you hold out until we can send for a doctor?”

“Oh, miss, it isn’t as bad as that, I’m sure I can walk –”

“Nonsense, just lean on me now,” Kagome encouraged, wrapping her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “It’s my fault from pulling you like that without warning.”

“Not at all, miss,” Rin replied, appalled. “There was no fault, I –”

“Miss Highbridge?”

The familiar deep voice had Kagome’s shoulders slumping in instant relief.

She looked up, a smile already returning to her face.

“Lord Westerley! Good day to you.”

He inclined his head, and sitting atop a horse looked even more gallant than usual; every inch the earl he was.

“Good day, Miss Highbridge,” he replied. “Is something amiss?”

“Oh, well, I –” Kagome stammered, flushing.

And before she managed to give any proper answer, he was already sliding down from his saddle and striding towards them.

Somehow, Kagome found her tongue.

“A young gentleman was driving his phaeton rather recklessly so we had to make way to be safe,” she explained. “In our haste, Rin’s ankle was injured.”

Lord Westerley shook his head, scowling.

“Reckless drivers have no business being a menace on the city streets,” he opined. Then, gentling his tone, he said: “Please, allow me to be of assistance.”

“You are most kind to offer, my lord,” Kagome said, a small quiver to her voice. “But we don’t wish to impose.”

“It is no imposition, Miss Highbridge, to render aid to those who are in need,” Lord Westerley replied warmly.

“In that case, we would be most grateful,” Kagome said, overwhelmed by his kindness and generosity.

And the concern he showed towards an injured serving girl was a most welcome surprise.

Warmth swelled in her chest, seeing this wholly new side of her friend.

And something small and tentative sent tickling tremors all the way through to the pit of her stomach.

It was most inconvenient of him, Sesshoumaru lamented glumly, but it had become evident that his feelings towards Miss Highbridge had grown beyond admiration.

The chance encounter on the street, finding her alone with only an injured fourteen-year-old serving girl in tow had sent such surge of protectiveness through him that he had not had any choice but to make sure she would get back home safely with her servant.

And after that, of course, he had been obliged to stay and let Miss Highbridge serve him tea to show her gratitude.

The whole ordeal had only made it painfully clear of how high regard he had for the young woman.

Weeks had passed since then and the memory still warmed him.

He had been of help to the two women. He had been needed.

It was a feeling which Sesshoumaru had not experienced too often after the war had ended.

But that day, at least for Miss Highbridge’s flustered serving girl, he had made a difference.

Of course, he was now more adamant than ever not to let his feelings show in full. Miss Highbridge did not deserve to be burdened with them.

She would go to London and have all the young men there eat out of her hand, of that Sesshoumaru had no doubt. And not because of any intentional use of feminine wiles, since that wasn’t at all in Miss Highbridge’s nature.

It would be her innate brightness that would draw the young men to her like honey did flies. She would be able to have her pick among all the suitors she was sure to attract.

He knew she would pick well. She would end her season engaged to a suitable, respectable man.

And though it made Sesshoumaru’s blood boil, to imagine Miss Highbridge wedded to another, he knew he had to conquer those irrational feelings.

Miss Highbridge wasn’t his to have.

But some days, it was hard to remember that.

The day both Sesshoumaru and Miss Highbridge attended Viscountess Greenwood’s ball was one of those days.

As they’d so often done, they had been standing to the side of the ballroom, engaged in an animated discussion under Mrs Highbridge’s watchful eye.

Eventually, however, Miss Highbridge had expressed an interest to go for a walk in the gardens. They had not done that since the night they’d met at Lady Sutton’s ball, but the Greenwood estate was at enough of a distance from the city to allow more generous grounds. And the rose garden, especially, was Viscountess Greenwood’s pride and joy.

Sesshoumaru had looked to Mrs Highbridge to see if she might object to such an excursion, but after she’d given them her blessing, he’d been willing to oblige Miss Highbridge.

The dusk was sweeping across the land as they walked across the lawn.

The roses were of various colours and they were well-tended, the scent of them heavy in the air around them.

At the back of the garden there was even an arbour built, the roses climbing, twining and blooming across the white lattice arch, forming a living canopy.

It was beautiful, though the beauty of the plethora of blooming roses could not hold the candle to the brilliance that was Miss Highbridge, wearing another pale yellow gown.

She was like sunlight made life.

It was no wonder he was completely helpless before her.

Smiling, she turned to him.

“Do you dislike dancing, Lord Westerley?” she asked.

“I do not,” Sesshoumaru replied, instinctively. “I mean, I do not have great fondness towards it, but I don’t dislike it, either. I did not used to, in any case.”

He saw Miss Highbridge’s gaze flick to his left arm, but she did not stare at it or offer any kind of comment about it, simply shrugged her shoulders.

“I was just curious. Because I realised that in all of these balls we’ve attended, I’ve never seen you dance.”

“You haven’t danced that often yourself, Miss Highbridge,” Sesshoumaru pointed out.

“That is true,” Miss Highbridge said. “Perhaps we ought to rectify that.”

Sesshoumaru started and turned to stare at her. Humour sparked in her eyes but together with it there was a small glimmer of something more.

Hope.

“While we still can,” Miss Highbridge added, with a whisper.

“What do you mean while we still can?” he asked, his voice sounding a little hoarse to his ears.

“My grandfather told us this morning that we’re going back to Hampshire in a fortnight.”

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes as a tangle of emotions washed over him. His heart was in conflict, but one thing he knew for certain.

Sesshoumaru couldn't deny her.

He couldn’t deny himself.

So with a bow, he offered his gloved hand to Miss Highbridge.

Surprised, and just a little hesitant, she took it.

She stepped into him, tentatively setting her hand on his left shoulder.

For a moment, he simply looked at her, able to forget about the arm that wasn’t there to wrap around her slender back.

She left him breathless. His heart was full of yearning. He would have loved nothing better than to lean in close and taste her lips.

After a brief struggle he won against that impulse. And then, starting to move to the rhythm of a waltz only he could hear, swept Miss Highbridge into a dance.

It was the day before they’d leave Bath, and Kagome wasn’t sure how to feel.

She would be glad to leave the city, but though they would return to Hampshire, they wouldn’t be returning to the vicarage that had been her home for all her life.

Instead, they’d take residence on her grandfather’s estate.

It would probably suit her personality better than the city life did, Kagome suspected.

But still, she was heartsick.

She missed her childhood home. She missed her father.

And now, she was going to miss Lord Westerley.

A poetry book sat in her lap, forgotten, as Kagome was composing yet another letter in her head. She didn’t want to leave before bidding him goodbye and thanking him for his friendship.

And a letter would be a much safer option than offering those sentiments to him in person. She wasn’t sure her poor heart had yet recovered from that waltz in Viscountess Greenwood’s rose garden.

The drawing room door opened, and Kagome started, trying not to look guilty.

The butler stood in the doorway and cleared his throat.

“Lord Westerley is enquiring if you are at home, miss,” he said.

Kagome’s heart jumped into her throat and she hid the trembling of her fingers by clutching her book.

“Show him in, please,” she told the butler. “And please send for tea.”

He nodded, and left.

Kagome smoothed the front of her gown, in a vain attempt to soothe her nerves.

All too soon, Lord Westerley strode into the room.

He came to a quick stop, obviously taken aback.

“Miss Highbridge,” he greeted her, inclining his head. “I did not expect to see you alone.”

“My mother has gone to do some last-minute shopping and has taken my brother along. My grandfather is taking in the waters. Please, take a seat.”

He did so, and a silence fell.

They had always found it very easy to hold a conversation, so it was most unusual that now they were both simply sitting there, at a loss for words.

His eyes also kept tracking the room, carefully avoiding her.

Understanding that Lord Westerley was just as nervous as she was, hope sprang to life in Kagome’s chest.

Could it be that his reason of being here was…?

The hope was now a keen ache, accompanied by giddy excitement.

Kagome couldn’t hold back her smile.

“I understand you’re leaving tomorrow,” Lord Westerley said, breaking the silence at last.

“Yes, we will return to my grandfather’s estate,” Kagome replied.

“I wish you have a safe trip.”

“Thank you.”

“I…” Lord Westerley hesitated. “I wished to see you, before you left. Miss Highbridge, I wish to tell you –”

Whatever Lord Westerley wished to tell her was interrupted, when Rin arrived with the tea tray.

Somehow, even though Kagome was close to quivering, she managed to pour and serve the tea.

Once Rin had offered smiled and curtseys and left Kagome alone once again with Lord Westerley, she tried to steer the discussion back to its previous track.

“What did you wish to tell me, Lord Westerley?”

Their gazes met and held. In those eyes, so light brown they were almost golden, the words lived unspoken; words Kagome could almost make sense of.

Then, something shifted and his face changed, the emotion draining out, leaving only politeness behind.

“I just wished to reassure you, Miss Highbridge, that you have no cause to be nervous about your season. I am certain you will find both success and a husband in London,” he said, his tone bland.

For a moment, Kagome couldn’t draw a breath. Her stomach felt heavy and cold, and the hurt of the implications of Lord Westerley’s words squeezed her heart.

“What?” she asked dumbly.

“Your charm will no doubt attract a number of suitors, and I am certain you will be able to pick wisely from among them,” Lord Westerley said.

He was trying to sound reassuring, Kagome was sure, but each word was a barb that only burrowed in deeper.

And where the hurt was spreading, anger now sparked.

“Is that all you wish to tell me?” she asked, her voice trembling, setting her tea down on a side table forcefully enough that the cup and saucer clattered against one another.

Something flashed in Lord Westerley’s eyes, but when he spoke, his voice was carefully even.

“What more is there to tell?”

Unable to contain herself, Kagome lunged up from her seat and paced for a few steps before whirling around to face him again.

“I may be young,” she began, her words now spurred by the anger throbbing within, “but I am not wholly ignorant, my lord. I may also be prone to the same malady most young women as susceptible to, but I refuse to believe that everything has merely been fanciful notions crafted from my own imagination.” She paused, her chest heaving. “Tell me truly, Lord Westerley, that I am not mistaken, that there is at least some regard you have for me.”

Lord Westerly’s expression now looked pinched, almost as if he was in pain.

That was good. Kagome much preferred it to the mask he had attempted to wear before.

“I regard you most highly, Miss Highbridge,” he replied in a quiet voice.

“And yet you sit there, telling me I will be able to find myself a husband in London! I have to say I’m most disappointed, my lord, for I never took you for someone who would place so much value on class,” Kagome spat.

“I beg your pardon?” Lord Westerley said, sounding more perplexed than annoyed.

“I know I would not make a good match, I know well how much you are above my station,” Kagome said, her cheeks reddened both from her anger and her embarrassment. “Why should the heir of a dukedom stoop so low as to marry a clergyman’s daughter?”

“Your peerage or the lack thereof has never been a concern of mine, Miss Highbridge, that I can assure you. Neither do I care of what the ton might think,” Lord Westerly replied. “You have it all rather backwards.”

“Backwards? How come?” Kagome asked.

“It is I who would not make a good match for you,” Lord Westerley said, meeting her eyes.

The familiar longing was there, as well as pain that echoed Kagome’s own.

And beyond them, eclipsing both, a dark gleam of bitterness.

Speechless, Kagome stared at him for a moment, before shaking her head. “That is the most absurd thing I have heard you say so far, my lord. Why on Earth would you think that?”

“You need just look at me, Miss Highbridge. My inadequacies are on a constant display,” Lord Westerly said, his tone weary.

Kagome blinked. Of all the objections, this one she had not expected.

“You can’t mean…? Do you think me so vain I would refuse a man because he has been injured in a war?”

“You would not, with such a kind heart as yours. I think you are the best of women, which is precisely why you deserve a better man,” Lord Westerly said. “A whole man. A man that –“

“I deserve a man I love,” Kagome said, silencing him. “And who will love me in return.”

She glared at him, trying to gather her courage.

The foolish man! The foolish, impossible man!

“You tell me you have high regard for me, and that I will be able to pick my husband wisely. Does that not imply that you trust my judgement, Lord Westerley?”

“I trust it and respect it, Miss Highbridge.”

“Do you?” Kagome asked, her hands on her hips. “For I think there is no need at all to go seek a husband in London. My choice is already made. What is yours?”

Lord Westerley set aside his tea with a clatter. He stood up and in the next moment had knelt down before her and taken her hand in his.

“I had convinced myself you were not mine to have, but I cannot – indeed I wish not – convince you of the same, Miss Highbridge. If you will have me, I shall not deny you. And if you do me the honour of becoming my wife, I will promise to cherish you for the rest of my days.” Then, he quirked his eyebrow. “Does that satisfy your demand, Kagome?”

“It does,” she replied, a smile blooming on her lips.

“Good. Then we are engaged, for the better or worse,” he said, standing up.

“For the better, surely,” Kagome admonished him.

He cupped her cheek, his fingers warm and gentle against her skin. Then he leaned in, drawing Kagome into a kiss that was so tender and sweet that for a moment Kagome feared her heart might burst.

“You are correct, my love,” he whispered as he pulled away. “It is certainly for the better.”

And as Sesshoumaru gave her a warm smile, his thumb moving across her cheek in a slow caress, Kagome knew for certain that she had chosen well for the both of them.

#sesskag #sesskag fic #sesskagweek2020 #skw2020 #skw2020d6 #victorian au #chie writes #fic: sk

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thecloserkin · 5 years ago

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book review: Carolyn Slaughter, Relations (1976)

Genre: Gothic psychological suspense

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: yes

Is it endgame: no

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: I read this concurrently with Wuthering Heights and allow me to play sommelier—10/10 recommend this wine pairing for maximum gothic extraness. tw: suicide

There’s boatloads of sex but this is not a horny story. It’s a lyrical story—in the sense of expressing direct, spontaneous feeling. Not that a story couldn’t be both (Wuthering Heights is both horny and lyrical) but I actually want to spend a minute defending this book to my past self. The first time I read it, I was unimpressed because Relations wasn’t much of a Love Story. You know the kind I’m talking about, you know the beats you’d expect it to hit: here is a pair of siblings tOrMeNtEd by their iLLiCiT pAsSiOn!!! I mean, the mode isn’t always tragic or dark but even the cream-puff versions of this arc entail some sort of line being crossed or feelings being caught. We are used to characters who begin in initial-state, a journey brings them to end-state and a clear delta separates the two conditions. This book says: fuck that. Fuck change. Fuck growth. My best days are behind me and I’m ok with that because now my brother is lost to me and I give zero fucks about anything else. We have a novel steeped in the symbolism of winter (the season of loss & deadness that is impermeable to change). Our pregnant heroine dreads her impending due date, in part because the child is not her beloved brother’s; but mostly because having a baby is just about the biggest change a body can be subjected to, and she’s actively averse to change. All she wants is her brother back. If you’re looking for characters to fall in love, as in transition from feeling one way to feeling another way, this is most likely not the book for you. But I enjoyed it a whole helluva lot and let me tell you why.

The predominant note of this story is MELANCHOLY. It’s backwards-looking rather than forward-looking, things just keep getting worse and worse for our protagonist and yet she’s unapologetic about what she did: she loved her brother, loves him still and always will. What I admire is that she is steadfast in the face of remorseless despair. Compare these quotes, this one from near the beginning: “I feel listless, often close to tears. I am beset by fiendish pangs.” This is from near the end: “I am hollow, clanging with emptiness; there is no solution.” Do you see what I mean by no delta between initial-state and end-state? I think there is an important distinction between this book and Forbidden, which holds out the promise of a happy ending only to snatch it away at the last minute, in that Relations puts its cards on the table & promises no such thing. It’s melancholy all the way down (well, three-quarters of the way down it transpires this book is in fact a high-concept Folgercest prequel I SHIT YOU NOT friends read it yourself).

In the novel’s present, our girl Catherine is entombed in a emotionally sterile marriage; in the past she grows up warmed by the sun of her brother Christopher’s regard & affection. Slaughter chooses to locate these strands at two crucial points in Cathy’s development—age ten (prepubescent) and age thirty (the age at which women’s “biological clocks” start ticking—this is relevant because Slaughter is writing in the 1970s even if Cathy is living in the late Victorian Era). We should note here that Christopher is older than Catherine by two years, aka the universally acknowledged INCEST SWEET SPOT (I know some of you favor twincest but you are WRONG and I will prove it in my forthcoming monograph on the topic). At age ten, Cathy and Christopher have intercourse for the first time after stumbling on their father’s secret porn stash. The sex is more mechanical than enjoyable, and that’s the point: they start banging out of curiosity, keep banging out of habit, and only later do hormones and feelings kick in. Ten- and twelve-year-olds just don’t get horny the way older kids do, and that is, again, the entire point. Slaughter structures it so the sex happens first (in the very first flashback chapter). The feelings don’t follow, the feelings don’t emerge, the feelings were there all along. What the sex does is seal a secret between the two of them, the secret of their father’s porn stash (hidden in an abandoned wing of the house).

If we turn back to the present, we find Catherine yoked to a man who excites zero feelings in her. By her own admission she married him because “I found him pleasant to listen to and he never made any demands upon me.”These are the qualities that recommend a husband to her—that he impose no psychic demands whatsoever! All her energies are already absorbed in reminiscence lol. We find out he proposed to her with a speech worthy of Pride & Prejudice’s Mr. Collins, and that he possesses not a particle of passion. Which is exactly how Cathy wanted it:

I entered the marriage in a state of apathy; simply undergoing it because of Mamma’s pressure, and because there seemed no other real alternative apart from marriage open to me.

We were married in the winter of my thirtieth year.

I walked down the aisle in a state of complete inertia, my sense muffled by the laudanum … I wished with all my heart he could have been my brother.

File away that glancing reference to winter; more on that later. For now please focus on how numb she is—not discontent, just apathetic. Cathy insists the present brings her nothing but pain and insists she doesn’t regret the choices that brought her here. She’s unrepentant about loving Chris, and explicitly rejects the conventional moral framing that would view her past self as “sinning” and her present self as “redeemed”:

I could not rid myself of the old and over-riding passion of my childhood. I decided eventually that no one would ever, could ever, be what my brother had been to me.

If I could have felt then, and now, that there was some evil in what we did, then I could have borne it. But I could find no evil in it.

I would not be so oppressed if I could but feel my past was wicked and scandalous. If I believed that, i could gladly submit to the institution or the grave. But some buoyant spirit within me keeps insisting that what I had was fine, and contained elements of true beauty.

“The institution or the grave,” she says. Those are the choices. If you want to have Thoughts and Feelings and not just a Body, then your lot as a woman is to end up either in a sanitarium or dead in childbed. Only when she looks back at her childhood does Cathy perceive a time when it was different, when Christopher, at least, saw her as a whole-ass person. Yes, this is another entry in dr. thecloserkin’s ongoing “Incest vs. the Patriarchy” series; if you guys thought I was going to stay off my bullshit for more than ten minutes then joke’s on you hahaha. Here are some quotes that show she was getting her emotional needs met as a child (she’s borderline suicidal as an adult):

leaves me with only the memory of such complete intimacy. It is beyond my reach now, and perhaps I shall never agin recapture it though I live to be ninety.

there was no discord in our interests and desires.

We talked all the time. We never ran out of conversation; I never grew tired of his speech.

It never occurred to me…that we would not always be together. There seemed no need for anyone else—he filled out my present and my past.

Ok so if everything was so idyllic back then what the heck happened? How did it all fall apart? Slaughter withholds the crucial revelatory scene until close to the end, but the story up till then is permeated by a very Gothic sense of creeping dread. The elephant on the horizon is change. Cathy and Chris are on the precipice of puberty, which portends seismic changes in their bodies, and the accompanying changes in their roles as they inch toward adulthood. Cathy doesn’t handle it well:

the old fear. A fear of things changing; of his face looking at me in an unfamiliar way; of our world altering and growing cold about me.

There seemed no question why it should not always continue in this way, and no reason why our bodies or our minds should change or suddenly not fit.

Our life became a little cloister: and I never wanted to leave it. The idea of change haunted me.

I was insisting, always, like a child, the nothing must change; nothing must happen to destroy our life together.

And here is where I connect her fear of change with her favorite season, winter:

I was afraid of change. It seemed menacing. I realized the sadness and bleakness of the winter really suited my nature best. It made me feel more real; sadness now seemed more real than happiness; more permanent, and therefore easier to bear.

the seasons change and find me the same. Nothing touches me, nothing makes me laugh or weep. I have no real substance.

OMG SHE’S A FUCKING REVENANT

”You are so thin. Your limbs are slim as these winter branches.”

I have touched my roots, my beginnings, the things that have formed me.

This book is an anti-change pro-winter manifesto. Winter is the season of desolation, where nothing grows, and if there is one change she adjures above all others it’s the life presently taking root within her womb:

If I am a seed about to burst, if I am to flower, the old seed, my Self, must die. Some new thing will grow out of me; but I must perish. I cannot have it; I cannot allow it to happen. I must protect myself from this that would devour me.

My body continued to change according to its own will, nothing could shift the determined embryo within me … I cannot bear the thought of this thing growing within me, living off my blood … I feel nothing but doom, and a great fear if this shall finally come to pass.

The progress of her pregnancy is literally making her mentally ill. I want to link this horror imagery to child!Cathy’s musings on the decomposition of her father’s corpse:

I wondered if all the flesh had fallen off by this time. I imagined his bones growing into the wood of the coffin, and the trees growing into his skull, the roots twisting around his rotting limbs.

People who read this passage and think “this is a really tight horror aesthetic but what is it doing in the middle of my luscious love story” are missing the point. This is a horror story. But instead of framing the incest as the impure act that violates and threatens our accepted categories, we are invited to view the pregnancy as a gross & unnatural hijacking of Cathy’s body. Her body’s fecundity defeats and puzzles her. She actually tells us about her nightmare wedding before she tells us about her real wedding; in her nightmare she looks at her bridegroom and:

transfixed with horror because he is without the male member — all that resides in the space between his thighs is a burnt-out stub—like the hacked branch of a tree deadened and blacked by many winters.

So far we’ve had body horror associated with (1) her father (2) her husband (3) her unborn baby. Notice who’s not on this list? Notice who she always thinks of with tenderness? Notice who doesn’t ever evoke an iota of fear or horror in Cathy? That’s right! Her brother. The whole incestuous affair is really an own-goal on patriarchy’s part, because the same doctor who warns Cathy’s mother against Cathy’s “wild and unnatural attachment to her brother” goes on to say:

Little girls, Madam, are the scourge of the earth. They have no future, but to grow into that unhealthy state of womanhood, with its unclean festerings and grotesque swellings of the abdomen. I would that little girls could always stay the pure young things they are before the age of eight.

This is some next-level IT WAS EVE’S FAULT SHE ATE THE APPLE spin. Can you blame Cathy for taking this venerable authority figure at his word, and staying “pure” by staying a child, by warding off womanhood and childbearing altogether? goodforher.jpg

Real quick here are some lighthearted episodes from their childhood since it’s not all doom and gloom: Christopher marches next door to confront the Frenchman who is maybe sleeping with their mom and is definitely perving on Cathy. Christopher returns the Frenchman’s gift of silk stockings with a grand declaration of “My sister Catherine has no need for these.” That’s right shut him down Chris!!! Also: Cathy falls into a frozen pond and Christopher rescues her. Their negligent mother blames Christopher. Cathy is shaking with pneumonia and all she wants to do is “make the sad look leave my brother’s sweet face.” Christopher refuses to leave her side until she rallies from the fever. He is thirteen:

I think that Christopher and I half-died together in that terrible week, and afterward, when the terror had passed, we were never quite the children we had been before.

Congrats kids you have undertaken a symbolic journey to the underworld!!!! Good job.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

It wouldn’t be a real incest story without a third sibling, an odd-man-out who helps us triangulate our main pairing’s relationship. Edward is a sociopath and a bully. Parents playing favorites always wreaks havoc with children’s sense of self-worth, but I think in this case it’s 90% down to Edward just being a bad egg (fwiw their father, when he was alive, did favor Christopher). Edward is a peripheral figure for most of their childhood; he appears only to “bang on our door to tell us to be silent for our giggling kept him awake.” That’s right, our door—teenage Catherine and Christopher share not just a room but a bed (!). Edward resurfaces as an adult to beg for Catherine’s intercession with his wife. He married an heiress, and now he seems to have soured on her. He talks about her “malady” and her “hysterical nonsense.” She has “phantom confinements.” They are “phantom” because she is barren. Sir you are literally a Victorian dude named Edward who keeps his mad wife locked up in the attic, you can sit allllll the way down. A heavily pregnant Catherine rolls up to Edward’s house just in time to witness his wife’s suicide: ”I had to make sure there was nothing inside me,” explains the poor woman, lying in a pool of blood after cutting her abdomen open with a knife. This seems fine. This whole society seems fine, right? Catherine reflects: “Ill-health or madness was her only solution, married as she was to a man who so complacently felt himself her superior” and “We are sepulchered alive in this close world, and want more room.” If this applies to her sister-in-law’s tragic fate it applies with equal force to her own situation. Cathy may not be physically barren but her inner life is empty af.

I’m going to talk about the breakup now. The climax of this book is the last time Cathy and Chris have sex. Contrast the arc of many slow-burn stories where the climax is the first time the main pairing has sex. Cathy’s menses doesn’t even arrive until after the incestuous affair is over! And what precipitates the breakup? Well, their mother decides to take the family on a seaside vacation. This is the summer when everything changes (Cathy’s favorite season is winter, and she abhors change). As for what changes, exactly, it’s kind of unclear? Wasn’t like they got caught having beach sex (which they had a ton of). The forces of change are wholly internal. They’re growing up. They’re waking up to the existence of social taboos that will brand their love “unnatural” & worse. As readers we can see that Catherine and Christopher’s attachment is as natural as breathing, and it’s actually the Incest Is Icky crowd that’s drawing harmful artificial boundaries. What happens is there’s a local girl who has obvious designs on Chris. She’s a nonentity but the mere existence of someone outside of Catherine and Christopher, someone who views one of them as an object of sexual desire, sort of punctures the bubble they’ve hitherto been living in. They can’t pretend society doesn’t exist or that what they’re doing isn’t immoral by its lights:

”We have never felt bad before. It just happened and there was no harm in it. I see no harm in it now—I cannot feel suddenly that it is wrong … but even if it is, why does it signify? Nobody knows.” ”Yes, but why does nobody know? It must be because we have deliberately tried to hide it?”

Christopher is the one who unilaterally decides that incest is wrongdirtybad and it has to end. Christopher is the one who seeks out Rando Local Girl and fucks her just to prove how serious he is about ending it with Cathy, which imo was inflicting a pointlessly cruel injury for no reason?? Wtf Chris I thought you were one of the good ones. What I love about Cathy is the steadfastness of her conviction—she accepts Christopher’s decision but she is far from convinced by his reasoning, his deference to social norms. Here’s Cathy’s take: “it seems to me that to live in a way that is contrary to one’s own nature, to live in a way that is false, that is the evil. The discontent grows like a cancer.” Authenticity ought to count for something, no? But these kids and their beautiful love are ultimately outmatched by, and broken by, the weight of social mores:

I could not bear to think of anything changing. I wanted it to stay the same dear way it had always been; ever since I could remember … but the spell was broken; we could not pretend any more. We had to stop being children. “Please. Once more.”

And that’s the breakup scene. It’s devastating. Cathy keeps staring at this one beauty mark on Christopher’s familiar well-loved face and she’s crying and I’m crying too. Recall that they’re still sharing a room/a bed up to this point? “The first night alone was the worst,” says Cathy. Imagine losing the person who is your whole world….overnight. Oof. There’s a time-jump of a few years, and Chris announces he’s off to—I think South Africa? I think this is around the time of the Boer War? I didn’t make any detailed notes and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fish for my copy of the book just to confirm what we already know, that it’s the 1800’s and the sun never set on the British Empire:

”I must get away from here and see something different; begin again…I cannot imagine a day without your face, or your sweet companionship. I do love you. But this must be for the best.”

Christopher goes off to doing colonial-settler stuff, initially. Here’s his first letter home:

I want you to be happy and grow up straight without me.

As opposed to growing up crooked, or growing up gay?? Here are subsequent letters where he seems to have done a complete 180:

thought it would be simpler to be away from you, from the constant temptation. It is not. My nightmares terrify me, they are eating my brain. I don’t know how long this can last.

AND THEN he writes he’ll be coming home for Christmas! I must’ve missed the memo where this story turns into a straight-up Folgers fic but that’s about where we are. It’s literally Folgercest. He goes to Africa explicitly to get away from her. Time and distance cannot suppress their feelings. He comes home to find her still waiting for him:

”Why have you clung to me, or rather the memory of me. For surely the memory is better than this twisted, pathetic creature before you?” “I have found no one better,” I said simply.

Asdfdfkdfjd this reunion scene is heartbreaking bc Christopher and Catherine are barely five minutes in each other’s company before Edward intrudes, claims to have found them in a compromising position, claims to have suspected all along about the incest, almost comes to blows with Christopher, tells him to get out. And Chris does. Cathy doesn’t even get to say goodbye. Edward’s presence is so clearly a case of entrapment—he was expecting Chris to come to her, he was expecting to catch them doing something “inappropriate” even though it sounds like they were only embracing—that there is no doubt in my mind Edward’s intent was to hurt Cathy and Chris, rather than to protect Cathy’s reputation or whatever bullshit he was spouting. We have seen from Edward’s abuse of his wife that he is no kind of moral authority. He does, however, succeed in “making me feel unclean, and dirt was attaching itself to me with every foul word he said.” In this scene Edward is handy synecdoche for patriarchy, which berates Cathy with accusations of sinfulness while actively stifling her every creative impulse and intellectual endeavor. If this book has a villain (and I don’t think it does; it’s not that kind of book) Edward is it. I find that edifying. It’s not Cathy’s husband who’s the primary antagonist standing in the way of her self-actualization—the husband is no more than an empty suit—it’s her other brother. One brother saves her and the other damns her.

After Edward runs Chris off and Chris goes back to Africa there are a few more letters, including this one: “that nothing has changed in my heart. That I love you with the passion of our youth, with the strength of all these long, long years.” Thank you for the affirmation Chris! I needed it even if Cathy didn’t. But the war is ramping up and Chris is headed into a combat zone and the odds of his survival do not look good. Cathy is already preparing to grieve him. She’s also preparing to go into labor any day now. These two threads, her brother’s impending death and her child’s impending birth, merge in the final pages of the book where Cathy is just clearly SO OVER IT:

I have nothing to fight, yet the waiting is most terrible … I have nothing to do but wait. I have nothing to leave.

It is hard to go on. How can I escape this life, this round of boredom and other births? O, that I could be ten and happy!

That’s the end but come on. Raise your hand if you don’t think this girl will 100% yeet herself into the sea and they’ll rule it “postpartum depression”? Anybody? No?

#book review #carolyn slaughter

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theladyactress · 5 years ago

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Anna Cora Mowatt and the Watts Scandal -- We Begin

Twenty-five years ago I knew that Anna Cora Mowatt was obsessed with maintaining her reputation. A few months ago, I suddenly realized why.

Mowatt was a Victorian rarity – an actress and a “lady.” She was born into the upper-class of New York’s Knickerbockerocracy. Despite the fact that she made the unusual choice for someone of her class and gender to make her living as an actress/novelist/playwright, she argued forcefully in her autobiography that she should still be regarded with the respect normally accorded to someone of her social standing and that, by extension, all actors who stayed within the bounds of culturally sanctioned behavior should not be despised for their choice of profession. She made this argument so strongly that I had ample material to do an entire dissertation on the subject (which I eventually turned into a book, which you can purchase here: The Lady Actress

What I did not grasp when I wrote my book was that Mowatt had composed her autobiography as she bounced back from her entanglement in a major scandal that had rocked the London financial and theatrical worlds of the mid-1840’s. Long before the people who thought up the title for Mary Pickford were born, Anna Cora Mowatt was an American Sweetheart. Young and pretty, she charmed audiences on both sides of the Atlantic. Even the notoriously blunt and jaded Edgar Allan Poe was a fan. On her London tour, she caught the eye of Walter Watts, manager of the Olympic and Marylebone Theaters. He made her his special star, showered her publicly with expensive gifts, signed her to an un-heard-of long-term contract, designed a whole season around her, commissioned the writing of new plays to feature her, and mounted no-expense spared productions of her original works. The champagne dinners he hosted in her lavishly furnished dressing room were the talk of London. It was like a dream come true.

On March 6, 1848, the dream turned into a nightmare. Walter Watts was arrested for embezzlement. It was revealed that he was a clerk for the Globe Insurance Company who was funding a double life as a theatre impresario by systematically falsifying accounts in his day-job. Little by little, he had stolen what in today’s money would amount to well over a million dollars.

Watts hung himself in Newgate prison on July 13, 1848.

A lot of people lost a great deal of money. Careers were stalled or de-railed. Many were angered that they had been so completely duped.

Although Mowatt was not part of the embezzlement scheme, she bore the brunt of some of the shock and outrage that spilled over from the revelation of Watts’ crime. In England, as much as fifty years later, descriptions of Mowatt’s fancy dressing room and the silver urn Watts presented her with were still being mentioned as bullet points in re-tellings of his misdeeds included in the annals of notable criminals of that century. Unsubstantiated rumors about the identity of the woman in the portrait in the locket Watts was wearing when he hung himself and the owner of a scarf he had with him are sometimes allowed to waft in Mowatt’s direction by some writers.

To be completely frank with you, as a young scholar, one of the things I found most attractive about Mowatt as a subject was that she was a very obscure persona in my field (Performance Studies). In the 1990’s, only a handful of articles had been written about her career as a Public Reader. That covered less than a year of her life. This left me very free to forge my own way as I wrote without having to devote substantial portions of my work to rehashing old arguments or getting cornered into taking stands on issues I didn’t care about. This is rare and wonderful freedom for a scholar. The downside, I discovered some twenty-five years later, was that none of my professors knew enough about this woman to say, “Hey, you’re ignoring a biographical detail that has a profound impact on every word you’re writing!”

To be fair, much of the point of Mowatt’s autobiography is to get the reader to ignore that incident. Her biographers weren’t a great deal of help in this area either. Barnes, Blessi, and Butler all give brief accounts sympathetic to Mowatt and short on details about Watts. Most encyclopedic-style profiles of Mowatt leave out the scandal altogether. I am personally responsible for a good deal of misinformation circling the globe at the moment. For years, I was under the mistaken impression that Watts was not the manager of a theater, but a theatrical agent who embezzled from Mowatt’s personal accounts. The biographical sketch I had posted of her on my website phrased it that way. If you see an account that states something to that effect, it has been copied and pasted from me. Consider it my watermark of error.

Now the time has come to correct that error. I am starting work on a new book, “Touch of Scandal: The Un-making of Anna Cora Mowatt” that will come to grips with the Walter Watts scandal and the impact it had on her life, career, and writing. I want to use this blog will be a clearinghouse for my research. I invite you to come with me over the next year or so as I sort through all the rumors, innuendo, charges, counter-charges, stories, lies, and evasions that make up this frequently confusing, dramatic, and sometimes tragic chapter in the life of an American original.

#theater history #victorian times #victoriantheater

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cinephiled-com · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on Cinephiled

New Post has been published on http://www.cinephiled.com/interview-costume-designer-anna-robbins-returns-us-sumptuous-downton-abbey/

Interview: Costume Designer Anna Robbins Returns Us to Sumptuous ‘Downton Abbey’

Like many diehard fans, I was beyond excited when I heard that Julian Fellowes’ popular British TV series Downton Abbey was following its six-season run with a full-length feature film. Taking place between 1912 and 1925, the television series had introduced us to the aristocratic Crawley family and their domestic servants who lived together in an incredibly grand Yorkshire home called Downton Abbey. Throughout the series, the Crawleys and their servants snaked their way through many of the big historical events of the early 20th century. As the film picks up the story in 1927, the Crawleys and their intrepid staff are preparing for one of the most important experiences of their lives: a royal visit from the King and Queen of England. This exciting experience will ultimately unleash scandal, romance, and intrigue that will leave the future of Downton hanging in the balance.

Among the joys in revisiting these beloved characters is seeing the amazing work of costume designer Anna Robbins (Emmy-nominated for her work on the series) which is even more spectacular on the big screen. This is a time just beyond the Gilded Age, entering the modern one, which is reflected in great detail in the costumes from Dowager Countess of Grantham Violet Crawley’s (Maggie Smith) pastel, formal Edwardian garb to the more flapper-friendly styles favored by Lady Mary and Lady Edith (Michelle Dockery and Laura Carmichael). For the latter pair, the silhouettes and color schemes reflect their outlook – Lady Mary in more angular blacks and whites for instance, and a beautiful gold flowing 1920s gown for Lady Edith, a gorgeous use of fabric and pattern and color where you can really see the texture and detail. I loved sitting down for a chat with the talented Anna Robbins about her work on the film, even if I did feel painfully underdressed.

Danny Miller: I so loved being with these characters again. And as far as I’m concerned, your work is one of the most important stars of the film. It was already so gorgeous on the TV series but am I correct in noticing that it all seems ramped up a bit for the movie?

Anna Robbins

Anna Robbins: Oh, yes, it is definitely ratcheted up a notch! We set a high bar for the show, with all the departments really pushing to elevate everything, but I think watching it on television we all thought it could be even bigger. And then along comes the opportunity to make it literally bigger which was so much fun to do.

I know, I just wanted to stare at the threads on the fabric seeing all those beautiful clothes on the big screen.

Yes, which is exactly what made it so challenging since I people would be able to see the threads and the quality of the craftsmanship in such detail. I like to use as many originals as possible and those had to be of a very high quality to withstand that scrutiny.

Wow, how on earth do you find 90-year-old dresses that are in good enough shape to look new?

For women’s wear I’d say it’s about half and half. I use more originals in evening wear because those dresses were often carefully preserved and they weren’t the kind of things to be worn every day so they haven’t worn out. Some pieces do require restoration, of course, and if it can be done to a very high standard, we do it but sometimes the fabric is simply too fragile so I might be able to re-imagine it as something else or take the fabric and rework it somehow. It’s a combination of a lot of things, but yes, I really had to raise the bar for the film and make everything even more sumptuous.

And, of course, this film includes the royal visit, so I’m sure that storyline also ramped things up.

Yes, that definitely upped the ante but it also meant you weren’t going to be exploring the most up-to-the-minute risky trends in women’s wear because there’s a very specific elegance and classicism to how you would dress to meet a royal.

I would imagine that you get to know these characters better than almost anyone. Do you have to think beyond the script to the whole of their personal histories? For example, Cora (Elizabeth McGovern) having been raised in America, do you think that influences her clothes?

Oh yes, where they came from is very important. The wardrobe’s got to say as much about the past as it does about the present day. It’s a very intimate process as well, working with an actor to find that characterization and it becomes a very important tool for them. But I have gotten to know the characters really well which meant I had a shorthand when I went onto the film that allowed me to work at pace right from the beginning without needing to do the huge amount of research that I did when I first came on board.

Shorthand like you could see something and think, “Oh, Lady Mary would never wear that.”

Yes. At this point I can walk into a vintage shop and see a Lady Edith dress across the shop and know it’s going to work.

Lady Edith is someone who really interested me in this film because, as we know, she had a big change at the end of the series. It did seem like her new status was reflected in her clothes.

I think Edith had one of the biggest journeys of anyone throughout the series. I remember in Series 5 her wardrobe was very restrictive and pared back, very autumnal colors during the period when she was estranged from her daughter and just very low emotionally. Then in Series 6 she literally blossoms as a human and finds her identity and she’s suddenly in this literary world so I created this London working woman’s wardrobe which was very different from her estate wardrobe. It still felt like the same person but she was far more adventurous and bold in her choice of prints and color.

You can literally see her self-confidence change over the course of the series and it was amazing to watch how her physical appearance reflected that.

Yes, I loved dressing her. And now in the film it was important that we didn’t lose that sense of style she had found even though now she’s no longer a magazine editor in London, she’s the Marchioness of Hexham and outranks all of them. So we took everything that she’s learned about herself including her self-assuredness and sense of style and moved it up into the position that she’s in now. But still always focusing on the level of craftsmanship in the textiles, it might be embroidery, it might be devoré, it might be printed silk. There’s always some sort of interesting surface to the fabrics that I use for Edith.

Was there at all a touch of rubbing her new status in Mary’s face with her clothes at all? A bit of showing off?

I don’t think so because I don’t think Edith has an ego like that. And she and her husband are very modern in their approach to their high positions. Remember — they arrive at Downton without a nanny. They call themselves “modern folk.”

I guess just the fact that she’s happy now is enough for her to stick it to Mary.

(Laughs.) Yes, exactly. I love dressing the two of them in their scenes together. Even when they weren’t at each other’s throats, there’s always a contrast, I always look to create some kind of dichotomy between them. Their dresses should always work with each other but create a nice contrast. And, of course, as individuals they’re very different.

I know the film takes place in 1927, which is a few years after the series ended, but do you have to think about certain characters like Violet (Maggie Smith) who may hold on to past styles in some way?

Well, Violet is a Victorian/Edwardian lady and that will never change. But the fabric choices may change. Where she once wore a fabric with an Edwardian pattern, that may become more art deco. You’re always looking for different micro trends that affected clothing manufacture, the way they were put together. And her jewelry might go from being more square cuts to show more modernity. I like to find ways to show that sense of modernity without changing her very recognizable silhouette.

Dame Maggie Smith

Did you know that there was a movie coming as the series was ending? Were things saved in a different way than they might have been otherwise?

No, we didn’t know. We hoped, but nothing was certain back then. Luckily, the main jeweler I worked with wasn’t organized enough to disband the collection and use it in other things so it was mostly intact.

Plus, the series was so popular, you could take the whole collection on the road!

Yes, we did work on a touring Downton Exhibition over the years so we’ve always been aware that there’s a life for the costumes after filming whether or not they ended up in a new film. But really getting to create new costumes for these wonderful characters was just a hypothetical dream that has thankfully now come true.

We’re talking so much about the women and my first instinct is to assume that costuming the men isn’t as interesting, but then I see their gorgeous clothes on the big screen and I’m totally fascinated.

Oh God, I love working with the men, I love tailoring. If you get that right, everything just looks so good. And the fabrics are fantastic. I was talking about using original pieces with the women, but it’s very rare that you’ll find any originals that you can use with the men.

Because men back then wore their clothes so much more often and they just wore out?

Yes, exactly, they just haven’t lasted. But the bits we do find are wonderful references for the cut and shape and how the pieces are constructed. I also work to make sure the men’s clothes complement the women’s and that all the scenes work together in composition. But the detailing in the menswear is just wonderful. And if you look closely in the film, the men change as often as the women do. I think Robert changes four times on the day that the Kind and Queen come to Downton. I was even able to design new dress uniforms for the livery staff with the Crawley insignia in the fabric, it was wonderful, those beautiful green tailcoats with silver frogging and lacing with the white breaches and stockings. Just brilliant.

Matthew Goode, Michelle Dockery, Allen Leech

So incredible. And then you leave work and go out into London and see people dressed like I am right now — it must be so depressing!

(Laughs.) I mean, I’m sure it was very hot and uncomfortable at times, so it’s good that we’ve moved forward, but those clothes do look so fabulous and I’m glad I get to spend such a huge proportion of my life with them!

Is designing for the servants more of a case of strict research on what the staffs of big houses would be wearing in 1927?

Well, there is lots of research and looking at what would have been worn but then you design touches for each character. For example, there is always a sort of very subtle floral pattern within the silk for Anna. And it may be more geometric for Baxter, with a more complicated cutting technique since Baxter is a dressmaker.

Is the implication that the servants would be mending their own clothes?

Yes, to some extent, so you’re going to see differences. They’re all designed to the character and to make them identifiable even if there’s a common look.

Lesley Nicol and Sophie McShera

I imagine at the first fittings for the film it must have been heavenly for the actors to slip back into these costumes to get back into character.

It was wonderful seeing them literally step back into their characters’ shoes. And it’s always been a very collaborative process working with them. It’s a joint effort to find the right looks. I lead it, for sure, since I have an overview of how the whole thing has to look and I know what’s going to work together in each scene such as they’ve got to start off in this setting which may be against red and then move into this room which might be green.

Oy, that seems like so much to keep track of. And it’s not like in real life we ever know the colors of every room we’re going to walk into!

Exactly, but I have to create these huge charts that allows me to painstakingly keep track of all those different elements. I work very closely with the director, production designer, the DP, and the actors. I have to think about lighting and how the colors are going to behave on camera.

I remember reading about the making of Gone With the Wind and how Selznick and costume designer Walter Plunkett tortured the actors with real corsets and other undergarments from the period even though they would never be seen. Are you a stickler period detail as well?

I am all about what makes the right silhouette but I might make the garments worn under the costumes more comfortable than the originals might have been. Remember, they didn’t have the luxury of stretch materials! Unless you actually see the underwear, as you do in some scenes in the film, then I absolutely insist on the real thing, of course.

Of course, the 1920s were more kind to women than previous eras in terms of undergarments.

Absolutely. You had underwear then that created a more boyish silhouette which could still be confining for some. But I also find that actors are quite keen to use whatever underwear creates the foundation that makes the clothing look more authentic and therefore more believable. And sometimes the underclothes affect posture and even the way you speak. I think it’s worth noting that while the girls lost the corsets, the gents were still wearing stiff-collared shirts full of starch with starch-fronted shirts. These are very uncomfortable, and you shouldn’t even be able to get a finger down the collar. So, rest assured, I still put the actors through the ringer.

I used to love the original Upstairs, Downstairs before Downton Abbey and I remember the actors talking about how they tended to be treated differently on set depending on what class they were playing. I remember Jean Marsh, who played the parlourmaid Rose, once said to the people on set, “Hey, I created this series, why is everyone treating me like I’m not as good as Lady Marjorie?” Did you ever notice anything like that on your set?

Oh, that’s funny. No, I wouldn’t say so. We were really like one big family and very equal. I think something the downstairs characters might get a bit of envy in terms of all the beautiful fabrics and costumes that the upstairs characters got to wear, but by the same token the upstairs characters had to do fittings week upon week upon week. The downstairs characters had a much easier time of it pre- and post-filming where they could just get into their cars and leave whereas I had to drag Lady Mary to do the fifth fitting that week for a new dress that she was wearing the following week.

I do feel inspired by your magnificent clothes in this film. As God is my witness, I want to start dressing better!

Go for it! The thing is, a bespoke suit can be very comfortable because it’s been made specifically for you. It molds to your body.

Thanks so much for chatting with me. I’m excited about all the Downton Abbey frenzy I’m seeing. This is definitely the movie that we need right now in this country, if you know what I mean.

Oh, trust me, we need it right now in the UK, too!

youtube

#Anna Robbins #Costumes #Downton Abbey #Elizabeth McGovern #Laura Carmichael #Maggie Smith #Michelle Dockery #Penelope Wilton #Interviews #What's Hot

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kurtty-drabbles · 5 years ago

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Vampire au

N/A: An sort of mix of Dracula and Hellsing here. Kurt D is too cool to not be both. Also, this is an AU so mutants are here walking and talking and still going on the same social norms as the humans, now, I´d not know all the details on the Victorians social cues...so, I´ll make things up, but, hey, those are fucked up times so...yeah.

@djinmer4 @bamfoftheundead @dannybagpipesarecalling @sailorstar9 @discordsworld @look-ma-no-hands336

Victorian England is a period that is inspiring many writers to write romance, even though, ironically, most of the romances about ladies seeking marriages comes from nobles men.

Romance is a mechanism and hardly is a matter of the heart. Kitty "Ariel" Pryde can testify how Victorian England can be devoid of colour and full of rules.

In fact, the only excitement is when a new neighbour moves to the two storey house in front of Kitty Pryde, the house is pretty old, always give a haunting impression and many jokes the ghost of the past live there waiting for the master to return. Of course, is just a silly legend.

But, someone living in this old house is enough to make many people gossip. Rumour has it and is a very reliable source, a count of Bavaria is coming to stay the season in England and many women are interested in this aspect.

Yet, Ariel(as many like to call her) likes to point out no one knows anything about this man or if he´s really going to live here, and she has to admit is really boring have to gossip about a possible non-existent person.

"Better stick with my books then, at least, I´d know there´s a character there" Ariel is on the balcony of her house, the young woman is blessed to be born in a good and open mind family(many wanted Kitty to marry when she hit 14 but her family manages to dodge this situation until she´s older enough) a long-suffering sigh escape her lips "alas, I know, soon enough, I´ll have to marry, I wish something more exciting would happen, more exciting then a new neighbour"

Absently her eyes travel to the old house and watch a pair of scarlet eyes in the window. A man with azure fur and a grimace as visiting card caught her doe eyes and the woman suddenly forget her old book, who is now laying on the ground, the old house has really a master after all.

The scarlet eyes have no pupil or iris and Ariel didn´t feel time pass down, until, her mother put her hand on her shoulder telling is dinner time, and when Ariel looks back, the scarlet eyes are gone.

__________________________________________________

Jean Grey is the daughter of a wealthy family, in fact, is safe to say the Grey are so wealth to the point only the Royal family can rival, so, this makes Jean a very suitable wife to be and many, many men try to gain her affections.

Warren Warrington is the chosen one. A young bachelor who is following the decor of the engagement with all the letters, to the point, Jean and Waren, can´t see each other alone.

The Greys once hearing that the Count is in town and living so close of them, decide to throw a party in his honour, as the costume goes, of course, and Kitty Pryde has to admit, she´s too curious to see the Count.

("No one ever saw him, said he´s too ugly" "I heard he´s too handsome" "Too old, bet he has no hair in his head and wears one of those wigs" )

The man arrives, much later, when the full moon is shining in the sky without any cloud, wearing fine clothes, a smirk on his face and his eyes, still scarlet as she remembers. No pupil, no iris, and wearing a new type of glasses, one called googles, that give an orange mix with his scarlet eyes.

The man is terribly late, and the Greys show displeasure in this fact, even if he´s a noble, however, his snarl like a smile is enough to prevent the count to be scowled.

"Guten Nicht, Am I late for the party?" the count looks with a bit of mock to the surroundings. Women were separated in one corner and men in another and all are wearing far too many clothes.

Kitty, in her own little space, saw how the count´s mouth twitch upward in a mock fashion, but, maybe the others didn´t saw or care, and many mothers went to the Count to introduce him to their daughters, and, without any regards to proper education or social norms, the count just refutes saying he´s not feeling well.

"I´m a bit hungry" Kitty heard him speak with his Bavarian accent, the south Bavarian tone, and notices how the man´s teeth seem too sharp, but, her muses aren´t that important. "I´m afraid, I need to drink something, is there´s any good Bloody Mary?"

"Bloody Mary?" Kitty asked now gaining his attention and the fury of many mothers wanting to marry their daughters. Is a bit uncommon to drink Bloody Mary at this hour? And, the guests already dinner, so, why the count is hungry? Didn´t he eat? "I´m afraid Lord Williams already drink all the Bloody Mary" Kitty speaks in a light tone and she is not lying here "but, I think there´s wine here..."

"Wine?" the count is pondering for a moment "yes, that would be gut" and then he introduces himself amused by everyone´s reaction, if the foreign man wants to be the eccentric one, Kitty can join in the harmless prank. The man kissed her hand and this didn´t go unnoticed.

"Ladies, we´ll be the scandalous thing to drink wine, fret not, I´ll return the good count Darkholme in one piece" Kitty promised to the old ladies and Kurt Darkholme is far too amused.

"You shouldn´t kiss woman´s hands like that" Kitty lightly chastised as they are drinking good wine. "be prepared for tomorrow thousands of old ladies suddenly visit your house to talk about their daughter, oh, what surprised they are single" Kitty jokes and knows very well she´s breaking a protocol here, yet, she´s not caring. Later, her mother and father may chastise more seriously(but, this has to be the only time something fun happens in the Grey´s parties)

"You, English folks, are very funny to me, I´m here to have a nice vacation and I think I've got a nice place" Kurt speaks smirking and showing his teeth, they are really sharp. Kitty shakes her head. "by the way, can you tell me more about the fine people in this party? You seem to be a very reasonable person"

"Thank you, Is a cross I have to carry." she jokes and gives a small sum up of who is who. "And look, I must warn you right away, Jean Grey is engaged to Lord Warrington and this is their celebration party" she explained in the best she could, but, she must have failed as Kurt starts laughing pretty hard, almost dropping his goblet.

Kitty, not wanting to be too defiant or gain attention, put her finger on his lips, this makes the laughter ceased, while, his scarlet eyes are amused. Kitty´s finger has no glove, nothing and is touching his cold lips.

"Oh, this is a party? Oh, I´ve much to learn" Kurt Darkholme states once Kitty takes her finger from his lips.

"Yes, you´d! And, why are you here? count Darkholme?" Kitty asked the man, still gazing at his scarlet eyes.

"I´m here to have fun, Katzchen, and please, don´t call me Count Darkholme, I´m not that old" there´s a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth again. "Can I ask a question?" the woman nods "are you here with somebody?"

"A husband?" Kitty asked again and shakes her head. Piotr is giving strong hints to want to be her husband and Kitty is giving strong replies of how she feels about that. A big NO. _______________________________________________________________

The men in the corner have enough of their private conversation and take Kurt Darkholme to their side to enjoy a nice chat as a man do. Cigars were distributed and talk about God were offered and Kurt gives a smile for all of them.

Bobby Drake or as he prefers to be called, Lord Williams(Is a name his father gave to him as he inherited the big house of the family), seems very upset the good wine is over and makes some comments about the person who steals it. "Count Darkholme, that woman has no right, I tell you, no right to take my wine" and the man is getting mad and madder. "I´ll teach that woman a lesson"

Count Darkholme only smiles. "Is life worth losing for wine?"

And Lord Williams, not minding the smiles of Count Darkholme nor the other men rolling their eyes at this childish act, replied. "Of course, is worth even die for good wine"

The party is over and people are going home, no one saw Count Darkholme´s carriage, yet, the man is no longer in the house. No one saw Lord Williams either, but, the man must be drinking with colleagues or with one of his girlfriends.

Next morning, one of the maids of the Grey household, spit Lord Williams dead in the wine cellar, attacked as an animal would and left to rotten in next to the finest wine. This news is a hot topic in the city. Along with Count Darkholme.

_______________________________________________________________

Rebellion comes in many forms, and, clearly Ariel most be the most rebel person in London as she often is reading even though, according to the social norms, is not respectable for a woman to read.

In fact, Kitty Pryde often is seen in the library with a good book in her hand and a hairpin in the other, you see, men think a woman should have the basic education, but, shouldn´t be here in the library. This is a place for men.

Kitty notices she´s going to be late, again, thanks to a good book. So, she is walking calmly with her pin in hand as men don´t always are that respectful to a woman who reads.

"Miss Pryde?" the male voice of the Count jolts the woman, but, she feels at ease, Kurt Darkholme never seems to mind how "rebel" Ariel is. "Strolling under the moonlight?" Darkholme asked showing his teeth and makes quips how the night is beautiful.

"Oh, no, not really, I was lost to time thanks to this book" she points the green cover book with a smile" and you?"

"The night is too beautiful to stay inside" and his smile seems far too feral to be humane, but, Kitty is fascinated by his scarlet eyes, it may be her silly impression, but, her eyes seem to get an even deeper shade of red. "But, I´d think I owe you an apology" Kitty is confused and Kurt continues, "you told me thousands of mothers would come to my house to make me meet their daughters...I didn´t believe in you. I´m sorry"

Kitty laughs amused. She remembers faintly, how a woman of her position isn´t allowed to laugh like that in front of a man, yet, Kitty is not caring at all.

"Don´t think too poorly of those mothers, Kurt" she speaks once she got her laughter over. And now, a sad smile creeps on her face "we, woman, live in a very cruel world, this is what we have been taught to do and is hard to think outside the proverbial box."

"Well, you seem to think outside the box, Katzchen" the man replied amused and offers to escort her home. The conversation about gender continues and Kitty notices how Kurt seems to enjoy making fun of the situation.

"In Bavaria is different?" she asked already seeing her house from the distance.

"You can say that," Kurt replied amused. Once, Kitty is greeted by her maid save and sound, Kurt adds swiftly "Save and sound, Katzchen, now, be careful next time, there are many strange things happening in this city and I don´t want nothing bad to happen to you" and with that the man politely retrieves himself.

The maid guides Kitty to the dining room, where Cameron Pryde, is talking in a hushed tone with his wife and now with his only daughter. "Normally, I would share this information with you, as is very delicate, but, I believe you two must know" and Cameron takes no time in giving the bad news "Fred Dukes is murder"

"Well, I hardly think anyone will miss him, the man was creepy and eat anything that he could take his hands on" Terry Pryde replied and Kitty knows stories of cannibalism involving Fred aka Blop.

"Yes, but...the curious part is that a shark eats the flesh of the already dead Fred, after an investigation, turns out someone drink the blood of the man and then feed to the shark, the one Dr Loius is studying, if the poor man wasn´t in another state people would suspect him"

"Well, I never like this Dr...bring a shark here? Is a silly notion" Terry replied again and Kitty mentions, once her mother stops ranting about how Dr Louis is a bad man, how many there are many stories of people with less blood than they should be.

"I´m afraid, Kitten, this is also real, the police has no idea on what to do, several women have been found drained of their own blood" and Cameron comment on the first case and Ariel somehow remembers the first day Kurt Darkholme arrives a woman lost her blood.

_______________________________________________________

Jean Grey is now anaemic. Is news that many, many people are talking about with a genuine obsession. Her fiance is trying to find a cure, and no one seems to understand how a healthy woman is almost on the verge of death, well, they don´t seem to care for that aspect very much.

"A party?" Kurt Darkholme asked as once again they are walking together, more to gossip about, and more to talk about among them. A secret jokes among friends. "Oh, like that joyful party?" the snide is visible on his face and Kitty cracks a smile.

"No, think something extravagant, now add more 10x the extravagance, those are the engagement parties, the one you went to was a mere meeting, you see, the Grey´s parties are so amazing that even the royals show up and people even make their appointment with the seamstress to get something to upper hold the party" Kitty explained with a dull expression, even her dear mother is in this fever, having the seamstress stress out for a perfect dress to Kitty. Something pink is quickly charted away and is promptly refused by Kitty. She prefers blue over pink.

"Oh, another dull party then" Kurt´s own dull face mirrors Kitty and it makes his red scar even more visible. "And how is this Jean Grey?"

"Oh" Kitty rolls her eyes "she´s the perfect example of woman, in fact, she´s not scandalous as me, her fashion is on point and never would wear something so forbidden" she jokes earning a chuckle from Kurt Darkholme. "See, Jean Grey would never show her neck as I do. What a virtuous woman"

"In comparison, your neck is much more lovely than hers"

"Thank you, my good Count, at least, you have good taste"

_______________________________________________________________

Jean Grey´s health is restored thanks to the miracle of blood donation, however, Jean Grey is a bit different and has been seen with many men and woman in her chambers. Has been using different outfits, far too revealing and has acting strange.

Before Jean Grey would blush and smile at the mention of motherhood for her, now, she recoils in horror and there´s a witness that saw a woman too similar to Jean murdering a baby.

Warren is gathering a group to help to unravel what´s happening, and to everyone´s shock, he asked Kitty Pryde for help too. Jean and Kitty aren´t closet friends in the slightest, but, in Warren´s mind, Kitty´s is discreet and good with people, and maybe, Jean could have confided something with the brunette.

They meet Jean Grey, she was in a crypt of her family, drinking the blood of a child and being half naked, not an appealing image to anyone. Especially as her teeth are now fangs and her eyes are dark as her soul.

"A vampire?!" Warren speaks in fear and tries to fight the woman he once loved, but, Jean replied sweetly. "Warren, my sweet angel boy, I´ve never loved you. And now, I´m free" and Jean Grey drains his blood.

Guns were shot as Jean Grey and no success, however, the sun is setting and the first rays of the sun are enough to make Jean Grey hurls in pain and slowly turns into dust.

No party at the Greys ever again.

"At least, the vampire is dead," one of them said, but, Kitty knows the history is not over.

______________________________________________________________

Kitty arrives in the old house, the residence of Kurt Darkholme, and is greeted by the man drinking sangria aka Bloody Mary. A smile plays on his face and Kitty is gazing at his scarlet eyes again, not as red as they were in the past.

"Jean Grey is a vampire" she speaks not minding the protocols and never will.

"I know" is his reply.

"Many people have been killed and had their blood drained"

"I know" again, is his only reply.

"And...are you a vampire too?"

"Yes," Kurt Darkholme does not deny.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"No" he replied again.

"Why are you here?"

"Honestly? To have laughter at people, your social norms are a joke for me, but, meeting you makes the experience better, Katzchen, I want to ask something and only you can answer that" Kurt Darkholme then replied in a soft tone with a Bavarian accent far too strong to be ignored "do you want to come with me? I can´t force you"

"Didn´t you ask this for Jean as well?" there´s a hint of jealousy in her tone.

"No, Jean was an accident, I drink her blood, but, she didn´t drink mine, so, she was never a real vampire, in fact, the whole experience only wake what she repressed for so long. To turn someone into a vampire the first vampire needs to share the blood, is almost like a marriage, but, with blood"

Kitty closes her eyes and asked. "It will hurt?" and this is a question that answers almost everything.

The Prydes are surprised and happy when Kitty reveals to engage with Kurt Darkholme. Even if the engagement was too soon, it does not bother them, a year from now, Kitty Pryde will be Mrs Darkholme and the Prydes are so happy that their daughter will be a countess. No questions will be made.

#aoa!Kurtty #Kurt Darkholme #vampire au #the writer regrets nothing #aoa kitty pryde #I dont know much about accuracy on the social norms on victorian era but there´s a blood man with red eyes I can make things up here #Jean went cray cray #I used Warren and Jean cause I didn´t want Scott to suffer #Why the sun killed her? Well #maybe it didn´t killed her and she can show up later as a sort of hybrid of half vampire as her mind truly think she is one #and she is jean grey

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catsdaydreams · 7 years ago

Text

King

Chapter 7 of When the Crown Calls. Check out the other chapters here.

Maxwell x mc x Liam

Rated Mature. Like the unsolicited Dick pick my ex just sent me.

I keep trying to make this whole scene quick, I wanted to end “while you were sleeping” with the end of this event. But the story decided that it wanted more details and kept pushing it out further..

Requested Tags: @decisso @marcela13mars @viktoriapetit

I shook my head and looked him in the eyes, “I don’t back down.” I said, forcing steel into my vice. “No one is going to scare me away from court.” I stated icily.

We looked on as the estate grew ever larger in our vision. The limo pulled around the back of the estate as help came out to grab our bags. “Oh,” said a redheaded servant, noticing me as I stepped out of the limo. She fumbled on her words, “L-Lady Kendra. We weren’t aware of your arrival, we only have one room prepared for Lord Maxwell.”

I smiled politely, “No matter, I supposed Lord Maxwell will have to share.” I said, helping unload the bags. “T-There’s only one bed, M’Lady.” She said, looking appalled. My smile continued, “I’m sure there is an entertaining couch in the suite that he can sleep on, at very worst I’m sure Drake wouldn’t mind a bunk mate.” I said casually, ignoring Maxwell’s protests.

The servant smiled and nodded as she turned to lead us up to our room. She lead us to an extravagant Victorian themed suite, I noted that the room spared no amenities as the bar was extra stocked. “They sure do know how to make a guest feel welcome.” I chuckled and Maxwell. “Ah yes, this is our best suite, Duchess Adeline insisted that we let Maxwell have this room instead of King Liam.” The servant gushed looking around the room.

I stifled a laugh, and noticed Maxwell’s face paling. “And where is Drakes suite so I know where to crash tonight?” He asked fearfully, making it harder for me not to laugh. The servant lead Maxwell down the hall as I looked through the outfits Bertrand had sent in my suitcase. A form fit wrapped pink dress was folded on top with a note on the top. Maxwell insisted that we do our part to help you. This is designer, and will ensure that your return is all the statement you hope it will be.

I started for the bathroom when Maxwell re-entered, servant trailing not far behind with a dress bag in tow. “Hey, I brought something for today. Eyes are going to be on you and-” He stopped noticing the pink dress in my hands. “Where did that come from? It’s beautiful. Not exactly what I would wear to make an ‘I’m back bitches’, but still beautiful.” he said, splaying his arms out for effect on his statement.

“Bertrand said it was from you?” I questioned. Maxwell smiled and shook his head, “Good old Bertrand. He wanted to help.” He stated ushering for the dress bag, “however, I think you should save that, and wear this instead.” He pulled out a gorgeous floor length deep blue dress. The top was an embroidered design, and the satin bottom pooled perfectly.

“Maxwell, where on earth did you get your fashion sense?” I gaped at the gorgeous dress in front of me. Maxwell nodded his head in thanks as the servant slipped out quietly. “I always kind of hoped that the noble girls would take me shopping with them and let me watch them change.” Maxwell admitted. I turned and swatted his arm, “Maxwell Beaumont!” I gasped, giggling. “Hey!” He complained. “I didn’t say it worked,” he muttered.

Maxwell grabbed his suit and entered the bathroom once I had the gown on. I was applying make up as he slipped into his blouse and trousers. “You know you don’t need that.” He mused, as he tied his bow tie. “Somehow, you make that gown impossibly more beautiful.” He said, as I finished applying the final touch of mascara to my blue eyelids.

I started putting on the diamond necklace and earrings, as Maxwell started fiddling with my hair. I watched as he quickly braided it into a perfectly messy crown braid. I smiled at him, “Let me guess? Another sex tactic?” I said playfully.

He gave me a sad smile, “No. my mom. She always told me that it would be important to be able to connect with the love of my life on a more intimate level than the average man. She always said that I would have a happier life if I could help my wife with her hair now and then, or cook for her instead of trusting her or servants to do it all the time. She taught me that being together was a partnership and that being able to cross traditional lines might help me have a deeper connection.”

The melancholy laced in his voice pulled on my heart as he pinned in a loose strand of braid. He met my eyes in the large mirror in front of us, and smiled as he placed a kiss on my shoulder. He took a step back as he lifted his elbow to me. “Are you ready Lady Kendra?”

“I am, Lord Maxwell.”

We made our way to the ballroom and Maxwell stopped me before we entered the doors, “Kendra, a quick word of warning. They have a sunken ballroom, forcing both of the entrances to lead to grand stairs. So, it’s going to be an even more dramatic entrance than you might be thinking.”

I smiled, “How perfect. Honestly with how extra Madeline and her family are, I bet in another life we’d be friends.” I said, squaring my shoulders and raising my chin, nodding to the servants on either side of the door. Maxwell, shook his head and led me in using his usual jovial demeanor.

Maxwell wasn’t kidding, the over sized doors opened to a beautiful marble grand stairwell. The flashes instantly started, as did the whispers, as we made our way down the steps. At the base of the steps I heard Maxwell whisper some encouragement to me over the barrage of press questions in cordonian. I tried to make out what they were saying.

Being semi-fluent in Greek only gave me a slight advantage, as Cordonian was an older variation of common Greek. I smiled at a blonde lady waiting patiently at the front of the press for her turn to speak, I motioned to her as the rest of the group lowered there questions to a bearable buzz.

“Lady Kendra,-” She begins but is cut off by a beautiful woman in her thirties pushing her way through the crowd with authority. I notice Maxwell shuffling his feet next to me uncomfortably. “Lord Maxwell,” she begins coyly, “I see you’ve brought a most interesting plus one.” She says looking me from head to toe. Her eyes narrow at our arms linked together. She smiles warmly at me, “It would be a rather boring party without at least a little scandal, hmm Lady Kendra? Welcome to Fydelia.” She says offering up her hand.

“You must be Duchess Adeline.” I smile back,taking her hand suddenly understanding Maxwell’s discomfort. Internally I bristled with jealousy. I spot Penelope and Kiara whispering to each other, eyes wide, over her shoulder. She followed my gaze and gives an amused smile.

“My daughter will want to greet you personally. You should go and speak to her, I can keep Maxwell entertained in your absence. We have something to discuss anyway.” She said, added an edge to her voice at the end, and staring daggers at Maxwell.

“I, uh, need to talk to Drake about something.” He says, darting off. I decided to follow suit and make my way around the frowning duchess. I spotted a walking server in the crowd and chased down the flute of champagne I had been eyeing.

Madeline greeted me as I lifted the glass to my lips. “Lady Kendra! I am so glad to see that you are awake, and even discharged!” She feigned joy, “Are you sure that you shouldn’t be home resting.” She said pointedly. I gave her a charming smile, “I couldn’t miss the engagement tour of not only my king, but a close friend.”

She kept her face neutral, sidling up to me and dropping her breath so that no one could hear but us, “he’s hardly your friend, and Americans don’t have kings. They have presidents.” She seethed. I frowned at her, my volume matching hers, “Cordonia is my home now, and he is very much my friend. I have no intention of attempting to break up your engagement. Congratulations by the way.” I said, taking another sip of champagne.

Madeline took a moment to study my expression. “Well, I-” she stuttered. “Thank you. Welcome back to court.”

“You know, it was a stupid decision to show up here. It makes the target on your back larger, I’m sure it will make whoever initially set you up more desperate to force you to leave.” She said, matter-of-factly.

I tried to hide my surprise, “You knew I was set up?” She scoffed. “Of course I did. Anyone on the inside track knows that you were too focused on Liam to bother with a side piece. Never-minding the fact that you aren’t exactly Tariq’s type if you know what I mean.”

I gasped, “Tariq’s gay?!” She side eyed me, sipping her champagne. “What, you think all those late night smoke runs with Drake were actually smoke runs?” I frowned further. “Wait, Drake’s gay too?”

She shook her head, “God, you are so clueless. Drake doesn’t discriminate against either gender, and Tariq is practically on fire. He is the fashion coordinator for 95% of the court. Including the royal family.”

I paused for a moment and thought back on my time at court. “That explains why Drake never smelled like smoke when he came back.” I frowned, kicking myself internally for not noticing it sooner.

Liam appeared at Madeline’s side, slipping a kiss on to her cheek, causing both of to jump. “Darling you scared me,” she gushed. She motioned to me, “look who managed to make it.” Liam met my eyes, concern instantly filling his face.

“Kendra! What are you doing here? You should be at the Beaumont estate, resting. Not to mention all the press here.” He said irritation on his face, scanning the crowd for what I presumed was Maxwell. “Liam, I’m fine.” Madeline bristled at his almost over concern for my well being. “King Liam.” She corrected me, glaring as she looped her arm through his. “We need to make our rounds, being the couple of the hour is a demanding position.” She said sweetly, continuing her glare.

I nodded politely and brushed past them, lowering my voice for Madeline as I passed. “Claws down kitty cat.” I whispered. Turning my attention to the rest of the room. I noted Maxwell, Drake, and Hana standing with Penelope and Kiara.

Kiara stuck her nose up as I approached, attempting to discreetly pull Penelope away. I rolled my eyes as Penelope gave me a sad wave and walked off with Kiara. I shot her a grateful smile as my friends turned to greet me. “Kendra, you’re awake!” Hana said, pulling me into a deep hug. I relaxed, finally amongst friends. “I thought your parents pulled you out of Court?” I asked.

She smiled sheepishly, “one of my best friends was in a coma. There was no one that could pull me out of here.” Drake simply took a long sip of his whiskey. “Well you know me, Hernandez. Wherever King Ken-doll goes so do I.” He says, swirling the ice in his glass, bitterness in his voice.

I caught his eye and cocked my head questioningly. He shook his head in response. I suppose I would try to catch him alone later to figure out what was wrong. I turned back to the rest of my friends. “Okay scooby gang, what clues do we have as to who set up Tariq and I?”

Hana gave me a look of surprise, “aren’t you a little more concerned with the person that put you in a coma?” She asked incredulously. I shook my head, “No, Liam has Bastien on it.”

“King Liam.” Maxwell and Drake corrected simultaneously. I frowned at the two of them. “What is wrong with everyone today. I obviously know he’s the king, but were all on first name bases here. None of us ever use our titles.”

“It doesn’t matter Kendra. Things are different now that King Liam has been crowned. Even we need to use his title in public. The only person awarded the luxury of a public first name basis is Madeline.” Drake stated.

“To call him Liam in front of anyone at an event like this, is a blatant disrespect to Madeline.” Maxwell shrugged. I nodded in understanding, “that explains the daggers she was staring at me earlier.”

Drake smiled into his glass as he took another swig. “Classic Hernandez.”

“Has anyone seen Tariq?” I asked, attempting not to directly ask Drake. His statement was the best way to discredit the rumors that the photos had started.

“He left court after that night. He didn’t even make it to the coronation.” Drake mumbled. I frowned, realizing that Drake may have wanted to escort him.

The music signaling the arranged dances began, as per usual I grabbed Maxwell’s hand and led him on the floor. We danced our turn and it was close to switching time, Maxwell leaned into my ear. “Stay with me?” He whispered huskily.

I pulled back to look at his face. “That is incredibly bold, Lord Maxwell.” I giggled. He smiled, “Maybe its all this time hanging around an american.” I leaned into his shoulder, allowing him to pull me a little closer than necessary. It was only then that I realized his next dance partner was supposed to be Adeline. I smirked, putting the appropriate distance between us, as Maxwell frowned.

“Sorry, M’Lord. But this American has enough scandal under her belt.” I said, as we bowed to each other, prepping to switch partners. “Kenze, please. Stay with me.” He pleaded urgently, using the nickname he only used privately. I stifled a laugh. “Have fun with the Duchess.” I whispered, half laughing as I spun to my next partner.

Over the next 3 partners I heard about my own scandal non stop, Two inquires on how I had been so bold as to return to court, and one improper proposition. I sighed, moving onto the next partner not paying attention.

“Well hey there,” familiar arms wrapped around me. I looked up to see Drake smiling down at me. I breathed in relief, “Thank God. Someone who wont ask me about Tariq.” Drake frowned, “Actually,” He started. I shook my head.

“I should have known, Drake Walker doesn’t dance.” I said, annoyed. He glanced around the room. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. A lot has happened in the last year.” He said giving me a twirl. “I could ask the same thing. I know about you and Tariq.” I said quietly. Drake chuckled, “Don’t worry about that. Tariq knew how to have fun, but that’s all it was.”

Drake was surprisingly well versed at these dances for someone who refused to do so. He led me around the floor with ease. “You’re much better at this than Maxwell or King Liam.” I mused. Drake blushed, “yeah, well someone had to teach the two of them.” He muttered. His eyes met mine, searching for something as we bowed to switch. I spun to meet my next dance partner.

I blushed as I met Liam’s gaze. We didn’t speak as we continued the waltz, simply enjoying dancing together. My eyes met Maxwell’s over Liam’s shoulder, his expression hooded.

I frowned as Liam let me into the dip and pulled me flush up against him. “Oh.” I said, breaking the silence between us. “This seems a little close for the dance floor.” I whispered, swaying with the music. I felt his smile, “don’t worry. At this point I think the only one sober enough to notice is Madeline, and she doesn’t mind.” I pulled back, keeping rhythm with the song. “She is your fiancee. Of course she cares.”

Liam let a short breath out of his nose, “This is Cordonia, mi amor.” He said silkily. I was startled at his use of Spanish, his greek accent curling around the words. He noticed my confusion, “You know my native language, I figured the least I could do was learn a few phrases in yours. As I was saying.” He continued.

“Madeline and I have a deal. In the public, we maintain our appearance. But privately, we don’t owe each other anything.” He said, the end of the dance rapidly approaching. “Meet me on the balcony at 12?” He said, bowing his head to me.

“Ill be sure to leave my glass slippers in my room.” I quipped back. He smiled and kissed my hand politely, as I swung into the arms of Maxwell bringing the dance to a full circle. Signifying the end of the dance.

Oh look, a representation for my life. I thought as Maxwell shot a look of jealousy at Liam.

I wasn’t going to be able to keep this dance up for very long. I was going to have to end it somewhere.

Shit.

Next chapter

#maxwell beaumont #maxwell x mc #mc x liam #liam rys #trr #fanfic #au #trr book 2 #choices #play choices #choices fandom #when the crown calls #the angst is about to be real #hope yall are ready because the next chapter is LIT #sorry that the details made it so long

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carmillatranscripts · 7 years ago

Text

The Carmilla Movie

Air date: October 25, 2017

Length: 1:34:27

We open with static, which disappears to be replaced by Laura against a plain white background.

Laura: Okay! Don’t know how many of you are new, and how many of you have been with us from the start, but I am Laura Hollis. Yes, the Laura Hollis, who recently got famous, or “internet famous”, because my university pals and I vlogged ourselves saving the world.

Brief footage from 3x33, of Dean!Perry opening the Gates of Hell

Laura: See, back in my freshman year, we discovered that our Austrian university was actually being run by an evil dean and her vampire cult. Naturally. They’d been sacrificing girls to this monstrous creature under the campus, and I was next. Really should’ve gone to that safety school. Anyway, the Dean sent ... Carmilla,

Footage from 1x2

Carmilla: I’m your new roommate, sweetheart.

Back to Laura

Laura: A 300-year-old vampire with a checkered past and centuries worth of victims to kidnap me.

We see Laura and Carmilla kissing from season 3

Laura: There was just one small snag with that plan. (back to Laura) Carm and I fell in love. Carm turned her back on the evil dean, and with a little help from our friends: LaF, Perry, Kirsch, Mel, and Danny, we saved the school! And the world. For stopping the apocalypse, Carm earned herself a magical human life. A vampire no more.

Footage of Laura discovering Carmilla’s heartbeat at the end of 3x36

Laura: A chance to start again, and leave the crimes of her past behind. And for us to figure out ... whatever happens next.

New scene. Exterior: An old manor, on a stormy day.

We see Laura, waking up inside the manor, dressed in 19th century clothes, lying on a couch. She gets up.

Laura: Okay ... weird. (looks at her clothing) Old-timey and weird.

Laura notices a mirror and looks into it. She does not see her own reflection, instead, she sees another woman, dressed as she is, copying her moves. A door creaks open, and Laura turns towards it

Laura: Hello? Ghost-lady?

Suddenly, a woman dressed all in black, with a veil over her face, appears behind Laura, and taps her shoulder. Laura runs in fear out the room and down some stairs, looking behind her. At the foot of the stairs, she runs into the same mysterious woman. The woman lifts her veil, reveiling herself to be Carmilla.

Carmilla: You’re wearing my broach.

Laura: Carm!

Carmilla: Did I scare you, my pet?

Laura: You think? Sneaking around, dressed like Lizzie Borden? Wait, why are you dressed like Lizzie Borden?

Carmilla: You mustn’t be afraid

Laura: Why would I be afraid?

Carmilla: We shall die, as lovers may ... (Carmilla kisses Laura) Die together, so that we may live together.

Carmilla’s fangs appear, and she bites Laura, drinking from her, Laura looking terrified

Suddenly the scene changes, and we see Laura waking up from a nightmare, her head on Carmilla’s lap.

Carmilla: Welcome back, creampuff.

Laura (moving up from Carmilla’s lap to lay her head on Carmilla’s hsoulder, we hear screams and chainsaw sounds from a TV offscreen) I think your horror movies are giving me nightmares

Carmilla: Oh, well, life’s rough like that sometimes.

The camera zooms out, giving us a broader view of the living room

Carmilla: Come on! How long does it take to kill one limping teenager? Is this guy on a coffee break? (to Laura) So, what happened? Did you get scooped up by that talking goat again?

Laura: No, I dreamed you were a vampire. (Sitting up) It was very ... blast-from-your-gothic-horror-past. There was this old house, and then you ... well, you were actually kinda scary

Carmilla (concerned): Did I hurt you?

Laura: In a dream. Come on, it was probably a ... subconscious fascination with Victorian murders. Or, uh ... corests.

Carmilla: Mmm! Well, no need to go digging around in the past. We have it much better now.

Laura: No arguments here. (looks at TV) So long, hammer horror! (to Carmilla) Hello, rom-com

They start to kiss, when suddenly a loud scream and chainsaw sounds come from the TV. Carmilla turns off the TV, and they begin kissing, and we fade out to the opening credits

New scene: Another dream sequence, Laura’s running in fear through the same mansion as before. She opens a door and sees Carmilla being placed in the coffin of blood, she closes it and keeps running, opening another door where we see Carmilla covered in blood

Laura wakes up, breathing hard. She’s in bed next to Carm. She kisses Carm’s forehead and gets up. We see her making coffee and pouring it into her Tardis mug. She snaps her fingers to wake herself up and sits down in front of her laptop.

Laura (with exaggerated enunciation): How now, brown cow? How now, brown cow?

She turns on the laptop, and we see her from the POV of her laptop, with a “Laura Hollis” logo in the lower left corner.

Laura: Happy anniversary, faithful viewers! I know! Iknowiknowiknow I’m behind in my posts, but, I would never miss this! Because 5 years ago, today, (copy of the Voice of Silas on screen with headlines “Students Save Austria From Apocalypse” and “Girls Sacrificed to Giant Anglerfish!”) a ragtag bunch of undergraduates stopped the dean of their evil university from unleashing Hell on Earth! Or, mostly stopped. You can’t really blame us for Antarctica. And where are they now, you might ask? Well, let’s check in with a very special 5-year retrospective.

Laura looks off to the side with a dramatic gesture. And then her face turns neutral

Laura (mumbling): And then we will cut to ...

Super cheesy graphics with phrases like “tiny, gay and mighty” and “Hollis Five Year Retrospective”

Back to Laura narrating

Laura: First up is LaFontaine and Perry who, as you’ll recall, transferred to Occult Studies at Berkley and then started LaFerry Industries, where they’ve been revolutionizing life for the supernatural with products such as their Hemo-Soy vegan vampire sumplements ever since. They’ve got this huge meeting with a megacoporation that wants to buy their start-up. I’m so proud! Speaking of super-successful people, you guys remember Danny? My Lit TA, turned stalwart ally, turned repentant vampire? Has turned into ... a vampire rights advocate. And, what retrospective would be complete without a look at how Mel and Kirsch and I leveraged our coverage of the almost-apocalypse into a career in local news? And, if you’re morbidly curious, here are some clilps!

Clip 1, Laura in front of a flower shop, with “Luane Horlis Reporting Live” at the bottom fo the screen

Laura: Today, we explore the fast-paced world of floral arrangements.

Clip 2, Laura on another street, in front of a bakery, with the name “Lauren Horley”

Laura: Cranberry bannock

Clip 3, another street, name displayed as “Laura “The Puff” Hollis”

Laura: Ceramic cephalopod

Back to Laura’s narration

Laura: So, yeah. Not quite achieved Lois Lane-dom. But never fear!

Laura runs off screen, and comes back with a big board with various goals on it

Laura: It is all part of my 5-year plan!

Some of the goals are marked with stars, and others with X’s. Some are sensible goals like “Meet Christiane Amanpour” or “200 hours volunteering in the library”, while others are nerdy, like “Buffy marathon with Carmilla”. Laura looks wistfully at he board for a moment and then pulls herself away

Laura: Yeah, um, after Carm and I took our glorious gap year, it was time to start real life. We moved town to TO, I finished my degree, stuck my foot in the door, now I’m just waiting for my big break! Busting open some huge Woodward-and-Bernstein-style scandal and being moved up to the city desk. Admittedly, I have been waiting a while for that one. But, uh, you know ,that’s what you do in life. You pay your dues. Unless you’re a former vampire with 300 years of sunshine and culinary history to catch up on. So, what has our Carm been up to as a living, breathing, human?

[Scene of Carmilla walking around in broad daylight]

Laura: She’s definitely taking advantage of ye old vampire trust fund.

[Carmilla walking out of a bakery with a pastry]

Laura: Bakery-based gluttony, check.

[Carmilla lying out in a bikini on a patio in the sun]

Laura: Sun-tanning sloth, check.

[Laura in front of a computer, eating a strawberry, Carmilla comes by and takes a bit of the strawberry with a seductive look at Laura]

Laura: I-have-a-pulse-now lust ... well ... actually I can’t complain about that last one [Laura and Carmilla exit scene]

Back to Laura narrating

Laura: Yeah. Unless you count starring in my spooky dreams, it’s been a bit more pastry than purpose lately. But! Today’s retrospective is all about perspective. We are going to get our heroine back on track. But, where to start such a conversation? Where else? [Laura pulls a cake into camera view] With desert!

Carmilla walks in

Carmilla: Mmm ... have you been baking?

Laura: Happy rebirthday! [kisses carmilla several times] It’s, um ... like a ... like a birthday, but for your rebirth. Because, five years ago, you got a life. Not like 90s ‘get a life’, but you know, um, literally.

Carmilla: Hmm, how very Lewis Carol.

[Carmilla turns the webacm off and closes the laptop]

Laura: So ... speaking of five years, I was thinking that we could talk about five years in the other direction. [Carmilla looks faintly exasperated] Cause you’ve been through a lot. Not just Silas, but death. And the French Revolution. So, it’s completely understandable that you’re feeling a little lost

Carmilla: Lost?

Laura: Okay, maybe not lost, but maybe a little ... aimless?

Carmilla: Laura, are you staging an intervention because you think I’m wasting my life?

Laura: No! [Carmilla gives her a look like “really?”] Maybe. It’s just ... you aren’t immortal anymore. And I know that you want to make the most of our lives together, but -

Carmilla: Is there something wrong with those lives being fun?

Laura: No! But I think it’s possible to have fun and ...

Carmilla: And did I go to that supernatural therapist?

Laura: One time. You siad you couldn’t take advice from someone born after the moon landing.

Carmilla: Mm-hmm, and do I pester you because you’d rather spend your days in a news cubicle instead of on a beach in the South of France?

Laura: No, you don’t. It’s just ...

Carmilla: It’s just, you like making plans. And I love that about you. But, I don’t know, it’s my rebirthday, so ... I want to spend it enjoying our lives. Preferably [wipes a bit of chocolate icing on Laura’s lip] somewhere with a patio and an extensive wine selection? [they kiss] And chocolates

They wander off-screen together, tightly embracing, the camera zooms in on the cake; Carmilla runs back on camera to blow out the candles, and then they both leave the scene again.

Several city scenes, a sunset, night time, then back to their home. Carmilla’s in bed already, and Laura puts some moisturizer on her hands. They snuggle together on the bed. Laura falls asleep, and it’s another dream sequence. She’s in bed, and she sees Carmilla crouched at the foot of the bed. In the background is a painting of Carmilla.

Laura: Carm?

Carmilla: Shhh. You’re dreaming.

Laura turns on a lamp, and Carmilla winces, covering her eyes

Laura: Oh. Right.

Carmilla crawls onto the bed towards Laura, in a scene shot to resemble a famous illustration from the original publication of Carmilla

Carmilla: You are mine. You shall be mine. You and I are one, forever.

Laura: Something tells me I’m gonna like this dream.

Carmilla strokes Laura’s face, and then her fangs appear, and she bites Laura. Laura’s eyes snap wide open. She’s back in the real world now, and the real Carmilla is biting her neck.

Laura: Carm! What are you doing?! [pushes Carmilla off her, Carmilla hisses, her fangs exposed] Carm! Hey! Hey! It’s me! It’s me! [snaps her fingers]

Carmilla comes to, and looks horrified

Carmilla: Laura, your neck! Oh, God! [she moves towards Laura, and Laura backs up, still afraid; Carmilla pulls back, looking completely horrified]

Laura: What is going on?

New scene: Back in the living room. Carmilla’s sitting in a chair with some kind of electrodes on her forhead. LaF and Perry are there. LaF is holding some kind of electronic tablet, while Perry has some notes in front of her. Laura is standing watching, with bandaids on Carmilla’s bite mark

Perry: Have you been in close proximity to any vampires or vampire by-products in the past two or three months?

Carmilla: Oh, you mean when a Sumerian goddess turned me again last week? Must’ve slipped my mind.

Perry: I see that sarcasm hasn’t suffered.

Laura: Thanks for taking some time out of your meeting prep to help us.

LaF: For you guys? Anything.

Perry: Of course! We’re probably over-prepared.

LaF: Something’s definitely off with Carm.

LaF’s scanning her with their robot eye, we see various graphs and the like, a light glowing above Carmilla’s chest, and the words “lifeforce: flickering”, among others

Laura: For those of us without a fancy cyborg eye?

LaF: Right. Um, this is Carm [LaF turns their pad around for Laura and Perry to see; it shows an abstract form of a female body, with a glow in the chest] And she’s, well, dead, except ...

Perry: Except, the resurrection spell is still running inside her, making her a living human

LaF: It makes her heart beat, hair grow, and all the other things a regular human body does

Laura: Yeah, like a magic battery

Carmilla: I thought we agreed we wouldn’t call it that.

LaF: My vote’s still with life-force

Carmilla: No, that’s even worse!

Perry: Oh! What about her, um, what about your spark?

LaF: Hmm, it does work pretty much like an ignition

Perry: Spark it is! Spark, spark, spark!

Carmilla: I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.

LaF: Uh ... Carmilla’s spark is ... going out.

Laura: What’s wrong with it?

LaF: It’s producing a sort of electrical discharge that’s making it flicker, and, since it’s what’s keeping her human, when it flickers, she ...

Laura: Vamps out.

Laura sighs and sits down

Carmilla: Okay, so ... how do we get my .... spark to stop flickering?

LaF: We’ll have to run some more tests.

Laura: And in the meantime, Carm just keeps randomly vamping out? What are we supposed to do about that?

Perry pulls out a bunch of garlic. Carmilla sighs.

Montage of scenes, mimicking the ones earlier where Laura was talking about Carmilla’s “aimlessness”, but twisted. First we see Carmilla lying out on the patio, but instead of enjoying the sun, she’s trying to cover up, with a bottle of hemo-soy beside her, then we see her biting a strawberry that Laura was eating, but accidentally biting her hand, then we see her drinking a squirrel’s blood at the same place we saw her getting a pastry before

Then we see their bedroom again. Cloves of garlic in the foreground. Carmilla’s lying on the bed, looking sad.

Laura (applying moisturizer): [Unclear dialogue, something about Mel?] ... Kirsch, of course, is jazzed, like ‘Oh, there’ll be blueberry pie, right? I’m into the bluebs”, and then to top it all off, I get to the fridge, and it’s just ... Carm? You okay?

Carmilla: Sure. Just grappling with an aversion to daylight and cravings for blood.

Laura: Hey, LaF is going to figure something out.

Carmilla: I know. It’s just ... this was supposed to be done. You know? The bloodlust, the self-loathing. The sleeping tied to a chair in my own bedroom.

Laura: That one might be overkill. You’ve never had a problem controlling yourself before. [Carmilla nods] Unless you count dream-Carm chasing me through discount Transylvania all “you are mine, you shall be mine”

Carmilla: Wait ... what did you just say?

Laura: “You are mine, you shall be mine, you and I are one forever”

Carmilla gets up and runs into the living room, searching through the bookshelves

Laura: Carm, what is going on? It was just some silly Dracu-poetry my brain coughed up for atmosphere [Carmilla opens up a chest] What are you looking for? [Carmilla takes out a book from the chest, looking through it, and finding a photograph, which she shows Laura. It’s the mansion from her dreams] That house!

Carmilla: This is where Elle and I lived. Is this the manor in your dreams?

New scene; Laura, Carmilla, Mel, Kirsch, LaF, and Perry are all in a park

Perry: So, this place Laura’s been dreaming about, the manor, it’s real?

Carmilla: Not just the manor.

Laura: Carm thinks that, from what I’m describing, the house, the clothes, what she says, that I’m dreaming things that really happened. [Perry and LaF look thoughtful] .... A hundred and fifty years ago [Mel and Kirsch look thoughtful] ... to Elle.

Perry, LaF, and Mel all look at Laura shocked; Kirsch has no reaction, he notices everyone else’s reaction

Kirsch: Am I supposed to know who Elle is?

LaF: Elle? The girl Carm turned on her mother and stopped being evil for?

Kirsch: That wasn’t Laura?

Perry: Carmilla’s epic first love?

Kirsch: Also not Laura?

Laura: Remember first year at Silas, those weird dreams I was having?

Kirsch: Only those weren’t dreams! They were warnings from Carm’s ... [look of realization]

Mel: So, you think the dreams are from Elle? Didn’t she, like, sparkle off into floaty white nothingness after Carmilla killed the giant anglerfish god? ... How is that a sentence I ended up saying?

Laura: Only one way to find out. We go back to the scene of the crime.

LaF: If it’s ghosts, we can test out the new spectrometer.

The conversation fades out, as Carmilla starts staring at Laura’s neck, the sound of pumping blood; Laura turns to Carmilla

Laura: Carm?

Carmilla shakes her attention off Laura’s neck.

Carmilla: Yeah ... I’m gonna go crack another bottle of hemo-soy

Carmilla gets up. Laura, Mel, and Kirsch look at each other. Laura gets up and follows Carmilla

Laura: Hey. Sorry about the whole “scene of the crime” thing. I know what happened between you and Elle was complicated, and I shouldn’t’ve said that.

Carmilla: No. Scene of the crime is exactly what it is. You saw those dreams. You know I ... hurt her. Hurt you.

Laura: You didn’t mean to. Maybe there’s a silver lining in all this. If this is Elle trying to warn us about something, maybe you can ... help her?

Carmilla: I’m done being a vampire. I’m done dredging up the past. I’m done with ... well-meaning therapists saying “close your eyes and think of those you’ve wronged, while I light up this funky incense”, and ...

Laura: That’s right. We have plans. And goals. And a color-coated chart [Carmilla smiles, laughing softly] None of which features some mystery from your past stealing the life that you earned. So, we are going to figure out who or what is doing this, and then we are going to -

Carmilla (looking way too cheerful): Gruesomely murder them?

Laura: Stop them. (Carm rolls her eyes) We’re going back to Styria!

Transition scene; cheesy image of a world map, showing their flight, with voiceovers

Kirsch: Where are we going?!

Laura: Styria!

Kirsch: Why are we going?

Laura: To stop Carm from re-vamping!

Kirsch: Okay, but really, why go back to the bad place with the monsters?

Laura: Because of Elle’s manor? It’s in my dream, it’s all connected? And it’s our only lead!

Montage of various foods

Kirsch: Oooh, schnitzel ...

New scene; all six walking dramatically along a path, looking determined, then the music stops, and they’re all looking exhausted

Kirsch: How much further till we get to this place?

Carmilla: It’s just ...

Laura (dropping her bag): Right around the corner

Laura and Carmilla walk towards the manor, ahead of the rest

Kirsch: Oh, yeah, it’s cool, Laura! I got your bag! Yeah.

Laura: You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. You can just stay here if it’s too much.

Carmilla: Hmm. And leave you alone to explore the mystery mansion? Hard pass.

Laura and Carmilla walk up to the entrance. We see a brief glimpse of someone in an upstairs window

Laura and Carmilla enter the manor; we see them entering from inside the building; on the wall in the foreground is a portrait of the same woman Laura saw in the mirror in her dream

Laura (entering the manor with Carmilla): Hello?

They look at each other, and continue in. Carmilla’s attention is drawn to the portrait for a long moment.

Kirsch: Hello? Knock-knock? Elle’s manor’s pretty cool!

Mel: I guess. If you dig the Harenhal vibe. Hello? Anybody?

LaF: I’m calling it. This place is totally haunted.

Perry: You don’t know that. Maybe it’s just ... creaky. It’s a lovely example of a 19th century schloss.

Kirsch: Heh, schloss.

Laura: This is exactly like my dream. Beautiful. I mean, abandoned and dusty, but beautiful.

Perry (putting rubber gloves on): Well, we can deal with the dust.

Mel: Tell me you did not bring an entire bag of cleaning supplies?

Perry: Of course I did! Do you know what dust does to expensive equipment?

LaF: We have EMF detectors, geiger counters, various spectrometers

Mel: You didn’t think maybe we’d need some actual weapons?

LaF: Well, knowledge is really the best -

Mel (pulling out a crossbow): I’m pretty sure weapons are the best weapon. Look at this princess. Carbon-fiber lens, 80-pound drawweight, capable of shooting 160 feet per second. I call her, Gertrude.

Perry: How excessive

Mel: Excessive? Do you remember senior year? You were possessed by Carmilla’s mom, the evil god who forced the entire student body, including me, to dig a pit to the literal gates of hell, or how about that time LaFontaine got brain-sucked by the giant anglerfish monster? Or how about that time that the evil baron tried to execute Carmilla? Or that time that Laura sorta, kinda, I don’t know, died?

Kirsch: We do have a lot of back-story.

Sounds of thunder and strange crashing noises, spooking everyone

Perry: Fine, fine, haunted.

Mel (to Laura and Carmilla): Tell me at least you two packed some heat?

Carmilla heads over to look at the portrait in the hall

Laura: Uh, I know krav maga. I am a weapon. I brought walkie-talkies and flashlights for everyone. There’s no cell service out here, they’re gonna come in handy!

Carmilla’s approaching the portrait slowly

Mel (off screen): How ‘bout you, Jughead? [sound of a beer can opening] Oh, Vincent van Bro brought beer.

Mel looks over at Carmilla and turns to Laura

Mel: Is that her?

Laura: Yeah. [long pause] Let’s search this place!

Mel: For a ... girl who died 150 years ago?

LaF: Better not keep her waiting.

We see a sequence of search scenes, first Mel and Kirsch looking in a room with flashlights, then Perry and LaF with flashlights and EMF detectors, then we see Laura and Carmilla entering a room. Laura sees the portrait of Carmilla that was in the background of one of her dreams. The portrait is lying on the floor, slashed. Laura picks it up.

Laura: Is that you?

Carmilla: It was.

We switch to LaF and Perry

Perry: We should be safe to push the meeting to next week, don’t you think?

LaF: Do we have to talk about this right now?

Perry: Single most important meeting of our professional careers?

LaF: Perr, we are searching a haunted castle for ghosts. This is literally the reason we started the company.

Perry: But if we had more resources, then -

LaF: Hold on, I think I’ve got a hit! Nah, it’s gone now.

Perry: Well, now, see, as part of Intrigue, we’d have all the equipment, we could scan the house in like two seconds.

LaF: Yeah, I get it. But we’re not selling out right this second, so can we focus on the task at hand? Let’s check out the next room.

They leave the room. The door closes, revealing a ghost in 19th century clothing.

We’re back to Laura and Carmilla

Laura: Looking forward to seeing her? Elle, I mean? Wouldn’t blame you if you were

Carmilla: Honestly, I’d rather not. I mean, what am I supposed to say? “Sorry I lied to you and sacrificed you to a giant fish-monster”? I doubt there’s a hallmark card.

Laura (walks over to Carm, and strokes her hair): It wasn’t all your fault.

We switch back to Mel and Kirsch. Something moves in the foreground, and Kirsch spins around to look at it, but it’s gone before a clear sight can be made. Mel raises her crossbow as they both back up. Kirsch backs up into another ghost, and starts screaming.

We get back to Laura and Carmilla. Laura’s walkie-talkie beeps.

Laura: Told her these were gonna come in handy

Kirsch (over walkie-talkie): Ghosts! The schloss is full of ghosts!

Laura and Carmilla look at each other. And suddenly another ghost shows up. They start running.

Laura: Ghosts! Ghosts! Everyone, come on!

LaF: Haunted house! Totally called it!

Perry: Run, weirdo!

Everyone’s running towards the front door. Laura and Carmilla reach it first, but the door won’t open. It’s completely stuck.

Laura: It’s stuck!

The ghosts continue to approach them. They run to another room, running into another locked door, the ghosts surrounding them. They turn to face the ghosts, who’ve stopped right in front of them.

Laura: Um ... hi. I’m Laura. These are my friends. And we’d be thrilled if you’d abandon your plans to gruesomely murder us.

One of the ghosts, Emily, speaks

Emily: Hello, Miss Karnstein.

Carmilla (confused): Hello? Wait ... I know you. How do I know you?

Emily (turning to another ghost, Charlotte): Oh, dear. Well, this is awkward. We imagined you’d recall ...

Charlotte: Killing us. I’m Charlotte. This is my sister Emily.

Laura: Carmilla killed you?

Emily: Oh, no, not quite, exactly. Her mother did the actual deed.

Laura: You’re the girls who were sacrificed to the Deep One.

Lightning. We pan over the various ghosts.

Charlotte; Yes. We are the victims of Carmilla Karnstein.

Emily: And we’d like to invite you to a dinner.

New scene. Dinner table, a roast pig in the center of the table. Emily and Charlotte are at the ends of the table. One side are Carmilla, Laura, and Kirsch, with Perry, LaF, and Mel on the other. Kirsch is eagerly digging in, while the others seem more suspicious

Emily: It’s wonderful that you’ve all been able to join us. And, naturally, we’re so glad you’ve arrived in time.

Charlotte: We’ve been waiting for weeks.

Laura: For us?

Emily: For Miss Karnstein. We hoped once she realized what had happened she’d return

Mel: Hold up. Did you just confess to flipping the vampire switch on our girl Carm here?

Emily: Oh! Goodness, no, we couldn’t have. What little research we have been able to perform suggests it was Miss Karnstein’s life-force that pulled us into the physical world. Until a few weeks ago, we were trapped in a nightmare land, doomed to endlessly repeat our greatest regrets.

LaF: This nightmare afterlife, is it more of a Jungian unconscious, or a “Through the Looking Glass” style situation?

Perry: Stop that! It’s not polite to pry into other people’s unspeakable suffering.

Laura: Why would you be connected to Carmilla’s human life?

Emily: Ah, w-we think it ... might be ... because ... it was Miss Karnstein who ...

Charlotte: She’s the reason we died

Carmilla looks uncomfortable.

Emily: Yes. The family here offered my sister and I a place to lodge

Charlotte: They neglected to mention the vampire cult

Mel: Same thing happened with my college acceptance letter

Laura: Y-you said you knew the family. Does that mean you knew Elle?

Both Emily and Charlotte look confused

Carmilla: Miss Sheridan.

Emily: Ah, yes. We knew her.

Laura: But she isn’t here with you?

Charlotte: No. She isn’t with us.

Emily: But, we’re thrilled that you are!

Carmilla (sighs and puts down her wine glass): Okay, that’s it. What’s with the Stepford act? I got you and your sister killed

Emily: Yes, but you’re here now. And according to this spell book, we need you, Carmilla, here to perform the ritual that will let us move on.

Perry: I don’t ... suppose I could take a crack at deciphering the book?

Emily: Oh, please, do. I’ve deciphered what I can, but I’m hardly an adept. Ah, from what I can tell, if we move on, your vampire symptoms will go away. I assume that’s why you’ve come? Haven’t you? Because otherwise you’d be trapped here with us forever?

New scene: The gang is in a bedroom, talking and getting ready for bed.

Mel: So ... they’re obviously evil.

Kirsch: Nah, I though they were kinda nice

Carmilla: More importantly, is this ritual of theirs even gonna fix me?

Perry (reading the spellbook): Well, it looks promising.

Carmilla: Promising? Are you telling me you were possessed by an evil goddess for, like, six months -

Perry: Eight. It was eight months.

Carmilla: And you can’t get more specific than that?

Perry: The whole book is written in code. But, if the family’s notes are correct, it seems as though it’s two birds, one stone. The ghosts move on, Carmilla stays human.

LaFontaine: That makes sense. When I scanned them, the energy from your spark was flowing straight to them.

Mel: Look, for all we know, they lured us in and trapped us here. Are we seriously gonna trust them?

Laura: What happened to them wasn’t their fault. They were girls just like you or me with their whole lives ahead of them. If this ritual helps them and keeps Carm human, we have to try it.

Later that night. Laura and Carmilla are lying in bed. Perry’s working on a laptop, sitting on the floor by the couch LaF is scanning the room with an EMF detector

Kirsch: Sweet! Is that a Gameboy?

LaF: Even better. It’s an EMF alarm. It might be nice to get a heads-up if any ghosts come calling.

LaF puts the EMF detector up on a mantle and sits down on the couch.

LaF: Psst, Perr, about before ...

Perry: Oh, I’m glad we postponed the meeting.

LaF: You are?

Perry: With all the data we’ve collected here? We’re in a much stronger bargaining position.

LaF: Really, Perr? I know this is the big leagues, but why are you so pumped to sell our company?

Perry: Do you even know what I do all day, while you’re off playing in your little lab? [LaF looks upset] I balance our budgets. Get our products approved. Handle the reckless endangerment lawsuits. I mean, at Intrigue there’d be a legal ... [Carmilla clears her throat, Perry reduces her volume] ... there’d be a legal department, LaF

LaF: I see. And, uh, by “playing” you mean the research that makes our company possible?

Perry: Oh, that is not fair, you -

LaF: You know what? I am too tired to deal with this right now. [LaF lies down on the couch, pulling a blanket overthemself. Perry goes back to her computer]

New scene. Kirsch is making a sandwich, and Mel approaches him, startling him, causing him to drop his sandwich.

Kirsch: On, man, we killed my sandwich. [Kirsch picks up the sandwich] Tutti abal tutti. [to Mel] Five-second rule. [bites into sandwich]

Mel: Have we, or have we not, had multiple conversations about not wandering away in the haunted house?

Kirsch: I know. It’s just the ghost ladies are so nice. And you know how I feel about leftovers.

Mel: Kirsch, if your stomach gets me dragged into some kind of black girl dies first bullshit, I am gonna come back from the dead and haunt your bar fridge.

They hear a noise coming from another room, and go to check it out

Charlotte: They aren’t going to go along with it.

Emily: They’ll get caught up in the surprise. You’ll see. It will all come out exactly as we planned.

Charlotte: Why aren’t we just telling them?

Kirsch’s stomach growls, alerting Emily and Charlotte to their presence. Kirsch and Mel hurry off to hide, while Emily and Charlotte leave the room, locking it behind them.

Back to the bedroom, Laura and Carmilla are asleep. Laura has another dream. Laura notices the nightgown from before

Laura: Ugh, this again? Really?

She hears Mattie from another room

Mattie: You would do well, little sister, to finish your task here. We live for the eternal moment, chérie. We are power.

There’s further talking but it’s indistinct, Laura notices some creepy paintings as she walks through a hall

Mattie: Faîtes attention, chérie. You would do well, little sister, to finish your task here without further delay.

Laura peeks into a room and sees Carmilla dressed in all black, holding a book.

Laura: Did you ever think that our part in this, that what we do might be ... unforgivable?

Mattie: You must stop reading the romantics! [takes book away from her] We live for the eternal moment, chérie! We are power, pleasure [Carmilla walks away from Laura’s sight, while Mattie walks into her sight] and are only accountable for our desires. And maman, who is growing impatient. Faîtes attention, chérie. Votre mère vous met en garde contre l’assassin.

Mattie walks towards the door. Laura runs off. Carmilla and Mattie leave the room.

Laura enters the room Mattie and Carmilla just left. She sees a broach on a plain table.

Carmilla (faint voiceover): You’re wearing the broach

There’s a sound of girls laughing, and then a thunderclap, and a ring of paper dolls appears, surrounding the broach. Laura looks at the paper dolls. Suddenly the laughing changes to screams

Woman: No! I don’t want to go back!

The dolls start to burn and are replaced by a ring of ash in seconds. Carmilla’s gloved hand touches Laura, and suddenly she wakes up in the real world.

Carmilla: Hey, you all right?

Laura: Another nightmare. You and Mattie were talking and she said something about an assassin, and then these paper dolls disintegrated, and I don’t know. It seemed more coherent when it was happening.

Carmilla: You’re still havin the dreams? But we’re here, I mean, why would you still be having them, unless ...

Mel walks in

Mel: Something else is going on.

Carmilla: Knocking, still not a thing.

Mel: The Hunger wanted a midnight snack and while he was getting it, we caught our ghostesses talking about some kind of surprise we aren’t gonna like and sneaking into a locked room. So they’re hiding something. Or someone.

Daytime. Laura, Carmilla, Mel, and Kirsch confronting Emily and Charlotte.

Emily: Hiding something? How could we possibly -

Mel: What’s behind the door?

Charlotte: Why should that concern you?

Mel: Maybe I don’t like surprises.

Charlotte: You look like a woman who can cope. [Mel and Charlotte share a long stare]

Laura: This could all be easily resolved by just showing us what’s behind door number one.

Emily: Of course. If you insist, but ... you’ll ruin the surprise.

Carmilla: We’ll risk it. [Emily turns to unlock and open the door] We’d kind of like to know if you’re planning to ... [They walk into the room and see all kinds of party preparation] ... to throw a party?

Laura’s looking around excited, while Carmilla looks confused

Emily: To thank you for helping us.

Carmilla: You’re throwing a party?

Charlotte: The ritual can’t be performed until the Ash Moon, and Emily always loved to dress up.

Mel (to Charlotte): I can’t imagine you’re a slouch in that department.

Carmilla: You can’t be serious

Laura (looking at a bottle of champagne): I think it’s sweet. It’s like a pre-ritual going-away party, before they go away. Permanently.

Emily: Exactly! And, we would be honored if you would attend.

Laura: Yeah, of course! [she notices a closet with ball gowns] Oh, my gosh! [she takes out a gown] Ball gowns? Are we gonna get our strictly ballroom on? Aaa! Best haunting ever! [she gives Carmilla a quick peck on the cheek and runs out excitedly]

Exterior of mansion

Carmilla (off camera): How’s it going in there?

Interior. Carmilla’s sitting on a couch already in a dress while Laura’s struggling to get her dress on behind a dressing screen.

Laura: BBC period dramas do not spend enough time on how complicated these clothes are. I swear, I’ve been in here for 40 minutes. Hey, thanks for going along with this, by the way.

Carmilla: Well, what’s to go along with? I like a canape as much as the next girl.

Laura: Still, it can’t be fun hanging out with you ....

Carmilla: Former victims?

Laura: No matter how nice they are.

Carmilla: Hmm, yeah, well, I’d appreciate it if they took it down a notch.

Laura: You’d prefer a roaring rampage of revenge?

Carmilla: Well, all this forgiveness is making me twitchy.

Laura (putting a choker on around her neck) You think maybe that’s cause deep down you still don’t think you can be forgiven?

Carmilla: I see we’ve reached the amateur psychoanalysis round. See, this is why I blew off that therapist. You know, some things are just too much to talk about in an office full of crystal dolphins.

Laura: I think maybe that’s the point of the talking

Carmilla: Yeah, except it wasn’t just talking, there was this manifes-

Laura steps out from behind the dressing screen. Carmilla is completely dumbfounded by how Laura looks.

Laura: You aren’t saying anything. Did I put it on wrong? I look ridiculous. I do. I look ridiculous, I -

Carmilla gets up from the couch and approaches Laura. They kiss. They separate and Carmilla takes a long look at Laura.

Carmilla: Forty minutes to get you into that, hunh? Bet I could get you out of it faster.

They kiss again. Carmilla turns Laura around, her hand around her waist, kissing her collar

Laura: We’re already gonna be late for the ball

Carmilla: So let us be late.

Carmilla unzips Lauras dress, removing it, exposing her corset, Laura turns back around to face Carmilla, as they kiss. Carmilla turns around and Laura removed her dress.

Laura drops to her knees, kissing Carmilla as she does. She kisses the inside of Carmilla’s thigh, as Carmilla gently plays with her hair. Laura stands up, briefly kissing Carmilla, and then breaking away to lie down on the bed, Carmilla joins her on the bed, she kisses Laura, and then moves down her body, kissing her left breast. Carmilla lifts up Laura’s skirt, and dives under it. The camera focus on Laura’s face as she gasps in pleasure

Carmilla wipes her mouth as she goes in to kiss Laura. Laura flips them over so that she’s on top. Carmilla removes Laura’s corset leaving her topless (seen from behind), Laura drops back down to kiss Carmilla as Carmilal’s hands run along Laura’s back, scratching it, as Laura’s hand moves off screen, Carmilla moaning

We see Laura and Carmilla dressed fully again, with masquerade masks running down the stairs, Laura in the lead

Carmilla: I’m coming.

They reach the ballroom. An unnamed ghost greets them. There are several pairs of ghosts dancing, as well as LaF and Perry. Mel is standing in the background watching, next to Charlotte.

LaF: Looking good, frosh!

Carmilla looks at Laura

Laura (laughing): What?

Carmilla: May I have this dance?

They go out on the dance floor, giggling, and start dancing

Perry: I’m sorry about the way I handled things last night.

LaF: It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean any of it.

Perry: I may have been a little harsh, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong.

LaF: Let’s not fight in front of the ghosts, honey.

Charlotte looks bored.

Mel: It’s not your thing either, hunh?

Charlotte: Emily has always wanted to belong to society. I understood life differently. [Mel looks at her] If you have to conform, you never belonged.

Mel (smiling): Okay, how did you fall for Vampirella’s schtick?

Charlotte: I didn’t. My sister vanished. I went looking of her. She’s never forgiven herself.

Mel: What about you?

Charlotte: I didn’t leave her then, how could I now?

Mel: You wanna try this stupid dance?

Charlotte: Obviously.

Mel and Charlotte dance.

We see several dancing couples, including Kirsch with another unnamed ghost-lady

Laura (slow-dancing very close with Carmilla): This is nice. Kinda like that grad ball we never got ‘cause our school was a supernatural death trap. [Carmilla chuckles] I missed this. I mean, not the pulse-pounding terror, but ... the parts where we help people. Though, I do wish we’d figure out why the ghosts were here in the first place.

Carmilla: Hey, Laura ...

Laura: I know, no need to keep prying. The ghosts will move on. You will get your life back and ... we can go back home.

Carmilla: No. I, um ... I think at that therapist’s appointment, I may have, um ...

Laura notices the table from her dream, and has a brief flashback to the dolls disintegrating and other scenes

Carmilla: Laura?

Laura: Sorry. Weird déjà vu.

Suddenly she sees dream!Carmilla for a brief second. She backs away from Carmilla

Carmilla: Hey, what’s going on?

Laura: I though ... I thought I saw ... the woman in black, the ... you! The you from my dreams, but that’s impossible, right?

Carmilla: Come on, let’s sit down.

Laura sits down on a chair

Laura: I’ll get you a drink, okay?

Laura has a dream-vision. Carmilla, all in black, with a woman dressed in white with purple fringes.

Carmilla: Come with me, loving me, to death, or else hate me and still come with me, hating me through death and after

Laura snaps back to reality, LaF is next to her.

LaF: Are you okay?

Carmilla arrives with two glasses of champaign. Laura notices a woman dressed in black, with a mask. Laura gets up, rushing to where she saw the woman, but the woman is gone.

Laura: Where is she?

Carmilla: Hey ...

Laura: She was right here!

Mel: What’s going on, Hollis?

Laura: The woman in black, the one wearing a mask

Mel: Everybody’s wearing a mask. [to Charlotte] Do you know who she’s talking about?

Charlotte (to Laura): Maybe if you’re not feeling well, you should sit down.

Laura: I’m dreaming things while I’m awake now. What’s next?

A light glow fills the room.

Emily: It’s almost time! The Ash Moon has begun. Gather round for the ritual.

Skip to all the ghosts plus Carmilla in a circle around a black table (the same one from Laura’s dream), Laura and the others are standing outside of the circle.

Emily: Before we begin, I want to say how grateful we are. Whatever you’ve done in the past, you’ve come to help us now, and I think that shows a strength of character that is quite remarkable.

Carmilla: Yeah, sure.

Charlotte: It’s time, Emily.

Perry: It’s your last night on Earth. Are you sure you don’t want another drink before you go?

Charlotte: The ritual must be performed before the Ash Moon ends at sunrise. Otherwise, we’re trapped here forever. So, no.

Emily begins reciting some foreign language and places a broach in the center of the table, the one from Laura’s dream

Carmilla: Wait, that’s the broach that I ...

Emily and Charlotte place her hands on the broach, and she gasps, frozen. The ghosts join hands.

Laura: Carm?

A glowing light appears from Carmilla’s chest, moving into the broach.

LaF: That’s Carmilla’s spark! It’s leaving her! Wh-why is it going in to the broach?

The ghosts start shaking and seizing

Kirsch: Uh ... guys?

LaF (looking worried) Did that spell say anything about spirit entanglement?

Emily: It’s not supposed to happen like this!

Laura: Something’s wrong!

She starts to approach the circle, but is stopped by Perry

Perry: Laura, stay back, it’s dangerous!

Laura: We have to stop the ritual!

Emily: I can’t! It’s out of control!

Suddenly Emily disappears, in a brief flame, which spread through the circle

Unnamed ghost: We’ve been tricked!

Charlotte: I don’t want to go back!

LaF: We need to disrupt the circle!

LaF rushes towards the circle to try to break it. They free Charlotte from the circle, but get caught themself, pushing Charlotte back into Laura before they disappear.

Perry: LaF!

Laura rushes twoards Carmilla

Perry: Don’t touch Carmilla, it will take you too!

A masked woman appears, the same woman we saw earlier, humming.

Woman (to Carmilla): Did you think you’d get away with it? Summon us up to ease your mind and then just waltz away? Did you really think there’d be no consequences?

Laura: It’s you.

The woman removes her mask, revealing herself to be Elle.

Elle: Surprise! Not the brightest little ingénue, are we?

She grabs the broach. There’s a bright light and a high-pitched ring as everyone falls back. When the light fades, everyone’s on the floor, geting up. Except Carmilla, who’s not getting up. Elle takes something from the table and leaves.

Kirsch notices a pile of dust where LaF had been

Kirsch: Is that pile of dust LaFontaine?

Perry: They’re j-... they’re just ... they’re just gone

Mel (to Charlotte): Are you okay?

Laura (off screen): Carm?

Charlotte: I need to hide

Charlotte runs off

The camera shifts to Laura and Carmilla, Carmilla’s on the floor, not moving

Laura: Carm? Carm? [Checks Carmilla’s pulse] Carm! [Laura starts shaking her] Carm! Hey! Hey! C’mon, hey! [slaps Carmilla’s cheeks trying to wake her up] Carm! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Carmilla opens her eyes

Carmilla: Hey ...

Laura pulls her up and they embrace. Laura’s eyes widen in shock

Laura: Your heart. It’s not beating. You’re a vampire.

The camera shifts to Elle at the front door, trying to get out, but the door is still stuck.

Elle: Nooo!!!! Why won’t it work? I’ve sent all the ghosts away! [takes out broach and starts chanting in foreign language again; she tries again with no success] Did one of them escape me?

Back in the bedroom, Kirsch is changing, while Perry reads the book.

Kirsch: So, did I miss something, or did that go radically not as planned?

Laura: It was Elle. She was at the masquerade. She knew about the ritual, she knew exactly what was going to happen.

Kirsch: How could she have known?

Carmilla: Because Emily and Charlotte lied to us. They had to have known she was here

Laura: You think vacuumed, screaming back to a hellish nightmarescape was part of their plan? [Perry and Carmilla look at her] Sorry. We will figure this out. We will find LaF. Why would Elle do this?

Carmilla (holding a bottle of hemo-soy): You heard her, to punish me for what I did by stealing my life. [drinks from the bottle]

Laura: But she can’t steal anything, she’s trapped here just like us unless all the ghosts move on.

Perry: But the ghosts are gone. All of them except Elle and Charlotte. Elle can’t leave until Charlotte is also sent back to the nightmare land, like all the other ghosts. LaF thwarted her plan

Carmilla: And now that my spark’s in the broach and Elle has the broach, if she gets rid of Charlotte, she could become human and leave.

Laura: We have to find her. Now.

Mel (entering the room): That’s easier said then done. Miss Sheridan is gone, girl.

Carmilla: Not to mention we don’t exactly know how to extract a life force from a magical broach.

Carmilla sets down the now-empty bottle of hemo-soy, and picks up another one

Mel: You may want to go easy on those, that's the only case

Carmilla: Terrific.

Laura: But, Elle must have the spell already. I mean, that’s her escape plan, right? So we have to find Elle before she gets to Charlotte, then Perry can find the spell to put your spark back -

Perry: Laura, what are you talking about? We have to find LaF first.

Laura: Of course, of course, we have to find both of them, but if we lose Elle now, then all of use are trapped -

Perry: We have to find Elle later, LaF comes first!

Laura: We can’t just let her take Carmilla’s life!

Awkward silence as everyone looks at each other

Kirsch: We could start in the study

Mel: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but beefcheeks is right. We don’t have much time.

Mel, Kirsch, and Perry leave the room. Carmilla approaches Laura, touching her arm. Laura pulls away

Laura: I need to get out of this dress

Carmilla: It will be easier if you let someone help

Carmilla reaches for Laura, Laura spins around facing her angrily

Laura: Did you summon up the ghosts? Because that’s what she said, Elle, that you summoned her up.

Carmilla: I think it’s ... possible.

Laura: Possible? How do you not know whether you summoned up the ghosts of your former victims who maybe want some light, refreshing revenge?

Carmilla: Because, it was just something stupid that happened at the therapist’s appointment!

Laura: What?

Carmilla: She ... said I could never move forward unless I dealt with my past, so ... she had me think about Elle and the others, and, you know, there was the usual “manifest your issues” crap, but ... I had completely forgotten about it until my issues actually ... manifested

Laura: And when were you going to share this little piece of information with me?

Carmilla: I was waiting for the right moment.

Laura: You know what would’ve been a good moment? Any time before the ghost of your former lover killed you! (starting to cry) She killed you. I thought she killed you.

Carmilla: Hey [opens arms] come here [Laura embraces her, sobbing against her] I’m still here. OK? I’m still here. We’re gonna get my life back, okay? And all those things we want, every single point on your five-year plan, we’re gonna do them, okay? Okay, let’s get you out of this thing.

We switch to Mel, Perry, and Kirsch in the study

Perry: Either Emily decoded the spell wrong, or Elle tricked her. The spell she did cast used Carmilla’s spark to force the ghosts off to the nightmare land that Emily described.

Mel: You think that’s where the braniac ended up? [Perry nods] You think you can get them back?

Perry: I think the real moving-on spell might do it. But, that means we only have till sunrise to find the code key. [Mel looks out the window at the moon] And I’ll need Carmilla’s spark.

Mel: Well, that makes getting the broach back priority number one. Hollis’ll be chuffed. [looking at Perry] Perry, LaFontaine knows you’re looking for them. They know. It’s what we do.

Mel slaps Perry’s leg in comfort. Perry returns the gesture

Back in the bedroom, Laura’s in her regular clothes, and Carmilla’s putting on a shirt. A humming sound is heard, and Laura flashes to another dream sequence.

Carmilla enters a room, looking very happy, dressed in white

Carmilla: It’s done! We leave tonight. In three days, we’ll be on an ocean liner headed for New York.

Elle looks less than thrilled. She stands up from where she was sitting

Carmilla: You’re gonna love New York! It’s full of ... concerts, and theater, and ... life. Your life life is gonna be so much bigger than you ever imagined!

Elle has now been replaced by Laura. Laura!Ell turns aroung to face Carmilla.

Carmilla: Wh-what are you doing?

The humming returns. Elle appears creepily sliding up Laura, she takes Laura’s right hand, a knife now in it, and slices her left palm open.

We suddenly return to the real world, Laura’s completing the slicing motion

Carmilla: Laura! Hey! Are you alright?

She looks down and sees Laura’s palm sliced open.

Laura: What in Stoker’s name is going on?

Time-skip. Perry and Mel are now present. Perry is getting gauze out of a first aid kit while Mel supports Laura’s hand.

Mel: So Elle can dream-kabob you in real life? Is that a normal ghost thing? Are we supposed to know they could do that?

Laura: She’s sent me dreams before. This is the first time she’s reached out and slashed me.

The camera focuses on Carmilla, looking broodily out the window

Perry: Oh, dear

Laura: No, no, no, no, no. Not “oh dear”, we do not need an “oh dear” right now.

The conversation becomes slightly muted, as we hear the sound of beating hearts

Perry: Well, I mean, I’m still deciphering, but there’s several spells in this book which might make ghosts much more powerful, especially in the dream world.

The camera shifts back to Laura, Mel, and Perry

Laura: Right, so Elle’s faster, better, stronger. Can we undo that? Use the book to soup ourselves up?

Perry (reading): “Side effects may include ... anxiety, insomnia, dream contagion, and ... death”

Laura: So ... no. Wait ... dream contagion? Is that like ... sometimes in the dreams it’s like she can’t completely control them, like I’m seeing things that she wouldn’t want me to see. Like just now, I saw you getting ready to leave for New York.

Carmilla: No one’s going anywhere until we find Charlotte. The Craft here will keep researching. You, Mel, and frat-boy can ... [notices that Kirsch isn’t around] Where’s the frat boy?

Mel: That burrito-chomping, protein-powder-snorting, gullible, mush-brained ...

We see a pile of ash with a sandwich on it

Mel: ... dope.

We pan up to see Carmilla, Perry, Laura, and Mel looking at what used to be Kirsch.

Mel: I told him

Perry: It’s the same as LaF.

Laura: Okay, we have to find Charlotte and get that broach back before Elle finishes this little re-enactment of And Then There Were None.

External view: The moon in the sky

Laura (voiceover): Search every nook and cranny, Charlotte has to be somewhere

Carmilla: Be careful. Elle knows this place better than we ever will.

We see Laura and Carmilla searching. They enter a room, and Carmilla looks at the books on a mantle. She pulls one out as Laura watches.

Another flasback-dream. Laura (as Elle) lying on Carmilla’s lap as Carmilla reads from a book labelled Le Fanu Poems

Carmilla: “Girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes. But in the meantime, there are grubs and larvae, so says Monsieur Buffon”

There’s a thunderclap, and then we see Elle standing behind the couch

Elle: To think of the trouble I went to, [Laura gets up, running for the door] warning you, [Elle blocks her escape thinking you’d learn from my mistake.

Laura: Yeah, cause Carm’s the villain here. Aren’t you the one zapping innocent people for no reason?

Carmilla: I’m doing it to keep what’s mine.

Laura: That life isn’t yours.

Elle: It’s what I’m owed. And I wouldn’t waste it on some banal five-year plan.

Laura notices LaF drawing some kind of symbol on a mirror.

Laura: LaF?

The dream sequence ends abruptly, Carmilla’s still in the middle of taking the book out

Laura: LaF! I saw LaF!

We skip ahead, Laura sitting on a couch with a pad of paper, Perry and Mel on either side, and Carmilla behind them

Laura: Drawing some sort of symbol, looked like this ... or maybe like this. [Laura’s drawing two versions of the symbol she saw in her dream]

Mel: How did you get past second grade?

Laura: I saw it for half a second in a ghost-induced nightmare, give me a break.

Carmilla: Any idea what it means?

Perry: No, but if LaF thinks it’s important enough to send from beyond the vale ... if I could just identify it, maybe it could hep decipher the moving-on spell. I’ll try to figure this out, while you guys go get a life.

Laura gets up and moves toward the door

Carmilla (to Mel): Go with her, keep her safe.

Mel: What are you going to do?

Carmilla: Well, young lady stole my life and turned me back into a vampire? So, I’m gonna remind her what that means.

Mel (to Perry): How about you?

Perry: Oh, I’ve got the EMF. If it so much as chirps, I’ll shriek.

Mel gets up to follow Laura. We see Mel and Laura heading down some stairs, as Perry studies the spell book, and the EMF detector produces static noise, and then starts beeping, Perry looks up.

We switch scenes to Carmilla entering a room, where Elle waits, facing away from the door.

Elle: I used to think you and I would spend our lives reading to each other. If only I’d known how brief one of those lives was going to be.

Carmilla: Hello, Elle.

Elle: Is that all you have to say to me? After what you did?

Carmilla: I never meant to hurt you.

Elle: Oh, don’t apologize. [Elle turns around to face Carmilla] It costs you nothing.

Carmilla: So, what? This is about me paying for my sins?

Elle: You never even stopped to think if you deserved this life. I’ve watched you. All these years. You've never thought of anyone but yourself.

Carmilla: Well, that’s some big talk coming from the girl who sent her friends to a nightmare land.

Elle: Me? Oh, no, I’m just thinking about myself. Oh, wait, I wonder who taught me that?

Carmilla rushes at Elle to hit her, but Elle vanishes and reappears by the door.

Elle: Oooh [chuckles] Not very ladylike, Miss Karnstein.

From off screen, Laura’s scream can be heard

Carmilla: Laura!

Elle: Better run, Carmilla. These old house are so dangerous, after all.

We see Carmilla running with her supser-speed to the study, where Laura and Mel are already present

Laura: Damn it! [camera pans to the pile of ash that used to be Perry, there are various notes around her, the only one that can be seen clearly says “... is a giant trap??”] Perry. You never should’ve left her alone

Mel: No sign of the spell book, either. [to Carmilla] I take it your little chat with the ghost of girlfriends past was a bust?

Carmilla: Yeah, I’m getting pretty sick of this haunting crap.

Charlotte: Imagine how we feel. [All three turn around to see Charlotte in the room with them] I’m wondering if we might be of assistance to each other.

Charlotte’s sitting on a couch with the others around her

Charlotte: Miss Sheridan said you would never go along with the spell if you knew she was with us. I should’ve known that she only wanted your life for herself. It was all she ever talked about. The wide world that she’d been denied. As if the same thing hadn’t happened to us all. (to Mel) I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t know what would happen when they pulled me back.

Laura: Can you help us get them back?

Charlotte: I don’t know. But we have to stop Miss Sheridan.

Mel: You got any thoughts on the stopping front?

Charlotte: It’s me she wants, so perhaps ...

Another dream sequence. Laura and Elle are alone in a room. Laura’s sitting in a chair while Elle approaches her, pulling out a knife.

Laura: Do we really have to do this Nightmare on Elm Street crap?

Elle: Fine [turns around, then turns back, now holding a tray with a tea pot and tea cups, the room gets brighter] Let’s speak as reasonable women. Elle sits down in the chair net to Laura’s, setting down the tea tray. So. Your friends are trapped beyond the veil. You, Carmilla, and your ... trigger-happy accomplice are next. Sugar?

Laura: ... sure

Elle: But, if you hand over Charlotte, and let me keep this life -

Laura: It isn’t yours to keep

Elle: That’s beside the point! Let me keep it ... and I’ll bring your friends back. You can all ... leave this place.

Elle hands Laura a tea cup, she accepts it warily

Laura: What happens to Charlotte?

Elle: Well, I’m afraid poor Charlotte will have to ... follow her sister. But, you know that was always going to happen, so.

Laura: She’s just like you. They all are. Don’t they deserve a chance to move on?

Elle: Oh! [laughs] Oh, you haven’t figured it out yet. The only way that Charlotte and Emily can reach their ... everlasting rest, is if Carmilla sacrifices her human life. [Laura looks shocked] So, let’s not pretend that you’d sacrifice Carmilla’s life for a few wayward spirits, any more than I would.

Laura: You can’t just leave them trapped in a nightmare!

Elle: You’d let your friends die in here to ... help them?

Laura: There has to be another way!

Elle: Ugh! You’ve had your chance. [the room darkens again, thunder cracks] Whatever happens now is your fault.

Laura’s back in the real world, gasping back to consciousness

Carmilla: Elle? Are you alright? Did she do anything to yo uin the dreamscape?

Laura: No. I just wanna get her out of my head. I wanna get your life back.

Carmilla: Well, we think we can lure her out into the open by using Charlotte as bait.

Laura: You’d do that for us?

Charlotte: There’s only a few hours left of the Ash Moon. If Emily and I want to move on, it’s our only chance.

External shot of mansion, shots of various rooms. We see Charlotte coming down the stairs

Elle: There you are! You know, it’s impolite to cause your host so much trouble.

Charlotte: I’m sure I’ll find a way to repay you.

Elle grabs Charlotte’s neck, pushing her up against a wall.

Laura appears, followed by Carmilla, and then Mel with her crossbow, surrounding her

Elle: A trap? You aren’t serious.

Carmilla: Vampire, warrior, journalist. I like our chances. Let’s have a little chat about taking things that don’t belong to us.

Elle: You first

Elle zooms over to Mel, vanishing her into Ash

Charlotte: Mel!

Elle: Best get the broom out. [kicks the pile of ashes, then zooms over to do the same to Charlotte] Look at that. Then there were three. [to Laura] You should’ve taken up my offer, sweetheart.

Carmilla: Offer?

Elle: Your life for you friends. Don’t worry, Laura declined when she discovered that Emily and Charlotte can’t move on without destroying your precious spark.

Carmilla: You’ll never be able to enjoy it. You’ll spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulder [Rushes to grab Elle’s arm] Wondering if it’s my step you hear at the door.

Elle attempts to slice Carmilla with her knife, but Carmilla dodges too quickly.

Elle: I’ll take my chances. I’ve got the broach. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.

Carmilla: Maybe not. But she knows krav maga.

Elle: What?

Laura grabs Elle’s arm, wrestling the knife out of it, they fight

Laura: Why do people always forget that?

Elle, Laura, and Carmilla fight for the broach. A bright glow appears from teh light, and they all disappear.

Laura appears in a blank white space

Laura: Hello? Carm? Carm! [creepy whispers and howling wind are all we can hear] Pull yourself together, Hollis.

Laura finds herself back in a dream version of the mansion. She sees Carmilla’s rebirthday cake on the same table that they’d performed the ritual at before. The cake then turns into the broach. Laura picks it up. She hears herself, speaking in a sad, almost-monotone, fashion

Dream!Laura: Oh, crap, we’re live? [Laura turns and sees a version of herself dressed in grey, with a microphone for news 9 (the same as in the “local news” clips from the beginning). Behind her is a twisted version of her 5-year plan, with all the goals turned into failures] Today, on Toronto News 9, it’s harsh reality. Abandon your childhood dreams for the dubious security of a subpar paycheck. Spend your days glorifying clickbait and your nights letting fear and misery drive away friends and loved ones. Accept that life is an unbroken chain of mediocrity stretching on and on and on. This is Laura Hollis reporting live from a failed career.

Laura notices Elle approaching and runs down the stairs away from her

Elle: I want my life, you little thief! I want my life!

Laura opens a door, and appears in a brightly-lit room with dream!Carmilla and dream!Elle

Laura: Doors are arbitrary. Wonderful

Dream!Carmilla: Oh, you’re gonna love New York. There’s theaters and conerts and ... life.

Laura: Wait, I know this. I dreamed this.

Dream!Carmilla: Your life is going to be so much bigger than you’ve ever imagined. What are you doing?

We see Dream!Elle taking out a knife. The real Elle appears, grabbing Laura and dragging her out by the ears

Elle: You don’t belong here!

Laura runs off, with Elle continuing to follow her.

She appears in another room, with a weeping Emily being held by Charlotte

Dream!Emily: She laughed. Miss Sheridan, she laughed at the very idea of ... Why did I trust her? Why did I not ... I was supposed to keep you safe.

Laura: Oh, God. Poor Emily. Poor Charlotte.

Elle appears in the doorway.

Elle: Do you know what will happen if you die here?

Laura: Let me guess. I die in the real world too

Elle: Worse. You’ll be trapped, in this hell made of dead minds. I wonder if you’ll feel so sympathetic then?

Laura: Is that what happened to you?

Elle: I don’t want your pity. I want my life! [Elle grabs Laura] I can take it from you living, or I can take it from you dead.

Laura: You’ve seen my dreams. [she kicks Elle in the stomach] Have I ever gone down without a fight?

Laura runs off. She runs into another room, which is the same one from before

Laura: Stuck in an endless loop of someone else’s damage. Classic me.

Dream!Carmilla: Oh, you’re gonna love New York. There’s theaters and concerts and ... life.

Laura notices the real Carmilla behind a couch, watching

Laura: Oh, Carm! Carm! [she runs over to real Carmilla]

Dream!Carmilla (partly overlapping with Laura): Your life’s gonna be so much bigger than you ever imagined! What are you doing?

Dream!Elle slices her left palm. Dream!Carmilla looks away

Dream!Elle: I met a woman in the village today. She said strange things about you. [Dream!Elle raises her palm, lifting it towards dream!Carmilla] What’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me, Carmilla? LOOK AT ME!

Dream!Carmilla looks up, for a brief second, her fangs appear, she hisses and moves towards Elle, before she stops herself. But it’s too late.

Dream!Elle: She was right. You’re a monster.

Dream!Carmilla: I can explain ...

Dream!Elle: Oh, I’ve heard enough of your lies. All your promises. All your talk of a new life.

Dream!Carmilla: No, not lies, in the colonies, things’ll be different! No one will know us! You’ll see that!

Dream!Elle: As if I would go anywhere with you now. No. My new friend is waiting in a carriage below. She is going to take me travelling She’ll show me the wonders of the world.

Dream!Carmilla is horrified, shaking her head

Dream!Carmilla: No, you can’t go with her. Elle, I know, I know I lied, but the horror she has planned for you is much worse than -

Dream!Elle: Worse?! Worse than saying that she loved me ... [whispered] while she drank my blood? [loud] WHILE SHE DRANK MY BLOOD?

Dream!Carmilla (on the verge of tears): Please ...

Dream!Elle: Don’t worry. I’ve told her where you are. She’ll send someone to deal with you.

Dream!Elle leaves the room, as dream!Carmilla falls to her knees sobbing

The camera then pans to Dream!Elle in the room as at the start

Laura: What, is this on repeat? How many times have you watche this?

Dream!Carmilla (entering the room): It’s done. We leave tonight. In three days, we’ll be on an ocean liner headed for New York.

The real Elle appears, Laura and Carmilla hide. Elle leaves

Dream!Carmilla: You’re gonna love New York There’s theaters and concerts and ... life! Oh, your life’s gonna be so much bigger than you ever imagined!

Laura leads the real Carmilla out of the room. They’re now in a staircase.

Laura: Hey! Hey. It’s okay. Hey, you are not there anymore. You are here, with me, right now. And I have the broach. [she places the broach in Carmilla’s hand] If you can just ... absorb it. [Nothing happens]

Carmilla: Nothing.

Laura: Of course not. Of course we still need some stupid spell!

Carmilla: Maybe I should give her my life.

Laura: What? Carm, you can’t! She’s unhinged!

Carmilla: Not to her ... to them. Laura, everything you saw in there ... it’s everything I’ve been avoiding for years. Pretending like being human meant I didn’t do all of those awful things. How is it fair that I get this life while they’re just trapped here? After everything I’ve done?

Laura: Okay. [sniffles] Okay, [sniffles] A, let’s acknowledge that Ell and your mother share some of this blame, and B, we will figure out another way, a way that doesn’t involve you giving up your life.

Carmilla: You mean find a way to avoid responsibility? Mmm-mm [shakes head] You heard Elle, there’s no other way. It’s my life for their freedom.

Laura: What about our life together? Our future? You’re just gonna give up on that?

Carmilla: Laura, I’m not giving up on that -

Laura: Cause, we’re supposed to have arguments over who does dishes, and cupcakes to celebrate big days at work, and grandkids. What is that gonna look like if you can live like you’re 25 forever?

Carmilla: You think I don’t want those things, too?

Laura: Please don’t give up on our life.

Carmilla: I’m not giving up. But I can’t keep running away. Not after what I’ve done.

Laura: Okay [they kiss, then in barely a whisper:] Thank you. [normal volume] Let’s go save some ghosts

We see Elle, pissed off by the front door.

Laura and Carmilla walk through a passageway. A hooded figure in black passes them by, the same ifgure from the dream where Laura saw Carmilla being lowered into the blood-coffin

Laura: Seriously? People can’t just dream about being audited?

They see LaF standing the hallway.

Laura: LaF! [runs to LaF, huggin them] How did you --- ?

LaF: Escape my personal hell? I’ve been through, like, three apocalypses, I can tell the difference.

Laura: Have you found any of the others?

LaF: Funny you should mention that. [LaF opens a door] I’ve been trying to wake her, but she keeps confusing me for ... me.

Perry is watching herself doing paperwork, with Dream!LaF beside her

Dream!Perry: That’s form 83-B done. [a pile of papers appears beside Dream!Perry] Just filing a hundred of these daily ...

Dream!LaF: You don’t mind taking care of these right? There’ll be just, like, 5 or 6 million pages. You can do this alone; you don’t need me. See you in six years.

Laura wakes the real Perry

Perry: Laura? What are you doing in my ... strangely bureaucratic nightmare?

Laura: Elle zapped us into nightmare land. We have to do the spell before sunrise which is coming up fast.

Perry: Well, I had to read the pages before Elle zapped me, but without the code key to decipher the spell -

LaF (clearing their throat): I've got the code key.

Perry: Oh! Yes, the symbol! Do you have the full thing?

LaF: Uh, yeah, I’ve literally got a photographic memory [LaF points at their cybor ete]

Perry: Oh, I could just kiss you on your robot eye!

Sadly, there is no kiss.

The four walk down a hallway, rescuing others from their dreams

Laura (to Mel): You’re safe

Kirsch: Why are people always hunting me for sport?

Perry (leading the others to the room where the ritual is to be performed): Okay, circle up. We don’t need to hold hands or anything, the spell is much more powerful. But, it might be more cozy that way.

Mel: So, what happens to us after the ghosts move on?

Perry: Oh, um, well, we’ll either find ourselves back at the schloss, or cease to exist entirely.

Mel: It’s better than our usual odds

Emily: I’m sorry, not to criticize any plan that would clearly be so much to our benefit, but ...

Charlotte: Doesn’t that mean you have to give up your human life?

Carmilla: Yeah. Well, I’m responsible for what happened to you, so ... this is how I can help.

Carmilla sets the broach down. It turns into Carmilla’s rebirthday cake.

Kirsch: Woah, what happened to the, uh ...

Laura: It’s a cake now. Don’t ask.

Kirsch: Okay.

Carmilla: Alright, uh, let’s get this ritual started before I change my mind.

Perry pulls out a piece of paper and starts chanting in an foreign language. Carm leans over, to blow out the candles on the cake, when Elle suddenly grabs her from behind with a knife

Laura: Carm!

Elle: You think I’m gonna let you do this? Steal everything from me again?!

Laura: But Carm really isn’t the one who you blame for that, is she? I’ve seen that moment between you two over and over again. You had everything that you ever wanted and you gave it up because you were afraid.

Elle: They lied to me. Carmilla, her mother, they betrayed and murdered me!

Laura: You’re right, it isn’t fair what happened to you, but that’s not an excuse. Everything that you’re doing right now, hurting everyone else, hurting yourself, it’s just because you’re afraid of what comes next, but you don’t have to be. We can help you, we can help you find the peace you’ve always been looking for!

Elle: No! No, I don’t want your platitudes! I want my -

Elle is suddenly stopped by an arrow shot by Mel

Mel: Your life. You want your life. Yeah, we know. But it’s not all about you. And you’re a part of this. So, stay put.

Elle slides to the ground, injured, the arrow in her shoulder

Carmilla: Nice shot!

Mel: I’ve been waiting to do that since we got here

Laura and Carmilla embrace. The circle is reformed, as Elle sits quietly in the background

LaF: So, you’re kinda rocking the fieldwork these days, hunh? Think if we got more admin help, you’d be able to come out more?

Perry: I think I could ... find some time to play.

Charlotte (to Emily): We’re almost free of all this

Emily: You shouldn’t have been drawn into it to begin with.

Charlotte: It was 1872. If we hadn’t been killed by vampires, it would’ve been, I don’t know, tuberculosis?

Laura: Oddly specific

Charlotte: Each day was made better because you tried to make it such. I don’t regret a thing. [to Mel] Thank you for the dance. I wish there could be another, but ...

Mel: I get it. You gotta leave with the one that brung you.

Charlotte: Would you like to ... ?

Mel: Obviously.

Charlotte and Mel kiss. Everyone looks happy for them, except Elle who just looks annoyed by the delay

Elle: Ugh, can we please just move on already?

Perry resumes the spell. Carmilla blows out the candles, all but one.

Someone: Ah, it’s working!

Charlotte and Emily vanish in glowing sparkles, followed by Elle. Then Mel and Kirsch vanish, followed by LaF and Perry, leaving just Laura and Carmilla.

Carmilla: What the hell now?

Laura: I guess with all the ghosts gone, there’s no reason for this place to exist anymore. So ... it worked. Hooray. [looking at Carmilla] Sorry about before. I think I’ve been so focused on chasing after your life cause it seemed a lot easier than trying fixing my own.

Carmilla: Hey, you’re Laura Hollis. [chuckles] And I’ve watched you fight vampires ... and gods and even that lady who tried to butt us in line at the craft fair. [they bloth laugh] So, you’re gonna figure it out. Whatever happens next, we’re gonna do it together.

Carmilla prepares to blow out the remaining candle

Laura: If this goes Romeo and Juliet on us, I’m totally gonna haunt your ass.

Carmilla: Of course you are.

They kiss, and then Carmilla blows out the remaining candle.

They find themselves lying on the floor, sunlight coming, holding hands.

Laura: Well, that was a kick.

Laura’s walkie-talkie beeps

Perry (on walkie talkie): Where are you guys?

LaF (on walkie talkie): Is everyone okay, over?

Laura: Affirmative. Laura and Carm A-OK. Over.

Laura and Carmilla get up

LaF: Front door’s unlocked

Perry: Oh! Meet you outside

LaF: You’re supposed to say over

Perry: Over.

Carmilla: Let’s get the hell out of Styria.

Laura and Carmilla walk out of the schloss, joining the rest. Kirsch hands them their bags.

Kirsch: I call dibs on window!

Montage: Walking down the path, then taking a train, then a plane landing, then back to Toronto. The group is having a picnic, and we see Danny in the background talking to Kirsch. Laura and Carmilla are sharing a bottle of champagne

Carmilla (holding champagne bottle as if microphone): And, how does it feel, Ms. Hollis, to officially be a freelance journalist at large?

Laura: I made a huge mistake! What have I done? I quit my job! I gave up my cubicle! I don’t have a plan! What’m I supposed to do without a plan? [Laura starts laughing, joined by Carmilla] Only about half of that was actual panic, so pretty good, right?

Carmilla: Yeah. I’m just gonna go get some blood, babe.

They kiss. The camera pans over to LaF and Perry, looking at some kidn of electronic device.

LaF: So ... this is a blueprint?

Perry: Yep, these are the blueprints they sent over. And, oh, check this out. They have an industrial-sized cleaning closet, and I was thining we could put your reactor over here in this corner.

LaF: That is a beautiful thing.

Carmilla: Selling out going smoothly?

LaF: Uh, we’re retaining executive control over LaFerry at Intrigue. And they’re giving us a thorium reactor. A thorium reactor!

The camera pans over to Kirsch and Danny

Kirsch: It was really scary.

Danny: It sounds a little cushy.

Kirsch: But it was a totally legit adventure. You know, there were ghosts and this haunted mansion and then, you know, this weird netherworld

Danny: And comfy beds and midnight snacks, and a masquerade ball

Kirsch: Look, I even have that mark where I was ghost-zapped. Look. No, seriously look!

Danny: No, I see it

Kirsch: It’s there, look!

Danny: Okay, I see it, you can put it away now.

The camera pans over to Mel. Laura’s standing by her, with a sympathetic look

Mel: Okay, don’t give me pity eyes, Hollis. Like you never had a crush on a dead girl.

Laura: That does sound familiar.

They touch foreheads

Mel: Thanks

Laura walks over to Carmilla

Laura: So, Carmilla Karnstein, a vampire again. What’s next?

Carmilla: I’m thinking ... maybe my PhD in Philosophy. Hey, attend university for 70-odd years, and you rack up a few credits.

Laura: I’m so proud of you.

Carmilla: You’re not worried about how we’ll spend our lives together?

Laura: I figure any two people in a relationship, their lives move at different speeds. That isn’t the part that matters. This, here, right now. This is what matters. And I love you.

Carmilla: I love you too.

They kiss, and then look at the cityscape together as the credits begin

Credits scenes

Montage of various scenes of Laura reporting from various locations

Laura: I’m Laura Hollis and this is a web exclusive for Creampuffington Post. We’re talking today with veteran dragonslayer Elizabeth Spielsdorf about the great apocalypse of 2015

Laura: Hi, I’m Laura Hollis on assignment in Graz where we’re just in time for the ribbon cutting ceremony on the JP Armitage Memorial Library

Laura: I’m Laura Hollis reporting live from the Geneva Summit on the Rights of Were-People

Laura: I’m Laura Hollis reporting to you live from Iceland where scientists have made a breakgthrough discovery of the first drinkable Fountain of Youth

Laura: A scandal brewing tonight on the steps of the capital as the President, who last month was revealed to be an as-yet unidentified species of lizard creature with very small hands, refuses to produce his long-form hatching certificate. This is senior correspondent Laura Hollis for MSSSN-BCD

Credits roll. Pictures of Laura and Carmilla with a baby

Post-Credits scene

Laura and Carmilla asleep in bed. Carmilla wakes up. She yawns, and gets up, walking to the kitchen. She opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of hemo-soy. Mattie shows up

Carmilla: Hey, Mattie.

Mattie: Hey, sis.

Carmilla: Why are you ...

Mattie: Back from the underworld and lounging in your charmingly Bohemian pied-a-terre?

Carmilla: For starters.

Mattie: You and I and the little ingénue that could are going on a road trip. Turns out the anglerfish was female. Before it died, it laid eggs. Just an alarming number of eggs.

Carmilla takes a sip of hemo-soy

Carmilla: Alright, let’s get going.

Title card reading “To be continued ...?

#carmilla #carmila movie #this took forever

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punk-in-docs · 8 years ago

Text

Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth, Chapter 3.

TITLE: Loving The Handsome Duke of Chatsworth. CHAPTER NO: Chapter Three SYNOPSIS: Tom Hiddleston AU Love story - Set in the Victorian Era… Circa 1858 to be precise… AUTHOR:@punk-in-docs  AO3 LINK: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4108306?view_full_work=true

Mrs Sharpes nasally tone brought Elizabeth back down from heaven, which she found she was drifting away too as she lost herself in Sir Thomas’s absolutely glittering eyes. She swallowed and averted her eyes, flexing her hands nervously as she looked south to the floor. Sir Richard noticed with reverent glee, and the smile on his lips grew as he watched as Libby looked down, and still Sir Thomas did not take his eyes away from cliinging to her face.

He didn’t know why Araminta constantly complained and fussed about it, this matchmaking lark was ridiculously easy buisness. Well, to him, it was anyway.

“Well, shall we all move into the front parlour? I daresay we shan’t be standing in the hallway all evening..”

The elder woman chuckled, noticing her voice seemed to jolt the pair back down to earth as they were lost in one anothers blue eyed gazes. Watching as she started through the doorway to see that Sir Thomas offered Elizabeth his arm, which she genteely took with a smile, as they started through the door themselves. Sir Thomas tried not to let the brush of her emerald silk clad arm gliding along his skin become as erotic as his mind was making it.

Elizabeths mouth suddenly felt woolly, and sticky, as if she had imbibed a mouthful of very dry biscuits, leaving her mouth quite parched, and she was very aware that the Duke was staring at her with a small amused smile as she licked her lips and remembered the etiquette of the day, and her bone bred debutuante manners. And the fact that a Proper young lady ought never to steer the conversation where others, especially a gentleman, could not follow. ‘Nor should she flounder ridiculously in tentative shyness, that is most unbecoming when in the presence of a gentleman’ She remembered how Aramainta had once screeched that instruction at her.

“Are you partial to London, your lordship?”

She stuttered out finally, turning to him and watching as he smiled, those wonderful eyes looking deep into her own. They shone in pure amusement back at her, watching as even his smile seemed to render her into a stammering girl. He rather liked that, he had never quite had that affect upon a woman before. He liked that he had it on her.

“Please, Miss Farrow, I must insist you call me Sir Thomas for the evening, I don’t wish to pull rank upon the other guests…And as for my fondness of town, I find I am enjoying it most immensely”

He smiled humbly, or atleast, he was now he had made her company. He lowered her arm as she eased her skirts out from under her, and folded her petite frame onto the blue velvet settee. The other was clasped behind his back, making him take on a very formal stance as he smiled down at her. Looking up at him from her sitting state, she found her eyes fought not to slide rudely up his jaw, marvelling at how perfectly built it seemed to be, he had an otherwordly breed of handsome she had never been gifted enough to have seen before. It really did render her quite weak and stupid, and that, she bristled was two things which she never wanted to be. She’d leave those attributes to Mrs Sharpe and Felicity….

She then smiled at his words as she fixed her green skirts so they layered out perfectly under her, causing her no distress.

“I pray you will not voice that notion to my stepmother, she would find the concept of such a thing highly incomprehensible indeed. To her, I fear she believes that station and rank are among the two things in life of which one can be absolutely certain of.”

She smiled. Her initial shyness and absolute striking weakness that his handsome looks left her in, was dissapating now, or, As Mrs Sharpe liked to call it, ‘The true lady, the real Elizabeth, starts to creep out from her reclusive shell…’

She watched as Sir Thomas smiled, nearly laughing at her comment, easing himself down onto the armchair near Elizabeth at Araminta’s insistance. Before she announced she was off to the kitchen to check upon the souffles, as she got to the door, it would take a stupid man not to see how she jerked her head, encouraging her husband to flee the room also. Which he rolled his eyes, abiding to his wifes request. Slipping out of the door after her, leaving the newly enraptured couple quite alone. Sir Thomas did not pay this matter one jot of his attention, he was far too taken up with Elizabeth. And Libby, became very aware that she had been left alone in the front parlour with a very Handsome Duke. Sir Thomas noticed too, a wry smile on his lips before he looked back to Miss Farrow and continued the conversation to ease the tension in the air.

“Pray tell me, Miss Farrow. What is the second thing, which one may be so adament about in life?”

He asked, leaning against the arm of the chair to sway ever so slightly closer in her direction, looking enraptured. It was a small, inconsequential little move, but it made her smile even so.

“You really care to know? I’m afraid a man of your calibre would find it unspeakably dull.”

She asked, a slight tease to her voice. Her smile making his insides turn quite warm. But on her, teasing wasn’t as direputably flirty as it could have been. It was jovial. Delightful, even. And he soon found that all the ravings about London he had been privy to amongst society mama’s and some of the men whom he was aqquainted with, were quite right. Her eyes really were ‘quite enchanting.’

“I shall bare my teeth down through the banality of it all..” He promised, hand going to clutch at his heart dramatically as he smiled.

“The second thing every young Miss ought to be sure of, is that she can never do her complexion any harm in a gown of lavender chiffon…” She smiled

Elizabeth then learned what Sir Thomas’s husky and divine laugh was like. And it was music to her ears. She smiled watching him laugh at her.

“Well. I shall be certain to remember that useful morsel of information, Miss Farrow. I oft find that when my niece asks for my opinions on gowns, I am decidedly left with little judgement to offload upon her.” He smiled.

“You have a niece? Have you a brother or a sister, Sir Thomas?”

She asked. Ignoring the little gnat like voice at the back of her head that was Felicity earlier asking if Mr Burke, or The Duke had any younger brothers she could interpose herself upon.

“A Sister, Iris. Iris Thatcher Kenworthy, She is my twin Sister. And she has two girls, who I am not ashamed to say, I spoil quite rotten with gifts and such like. There is Edith who is 16, and Judith who is 5.” He beamed.

“They are lovely names, and ages too. Does your sister not care for town? I daresay it would do you well to keep Edith a secret, for if my stepmother gets wind of a gently bred country girl who has not yet been to town, she would quite wish to take her under her wing…”

She added in a hushed voice. She suddenly had a mad thought that if he spoiled his nieces rotten, how heavenly would he be liable to treat his own wife? She had not been spoiled much in her four and twenty years of life. Yet she rather favoured that it must be quite nice to be lavished upon with gifts with no such occasion as to them other than devotion and doting affection.

“My sister was widowed four years ago, I’m afraid coming to town, for her, is not quite as pleasurable as it once was. It brings back rather bitter memories as I understand.” He spoke solemnly.

“Oh, I most aggrieved to hear it. I am terribly sorry, you must accept my deepest sympathies for your sister.”

She spoke, her brows drawing together in pain, eyes soaking in sad understanding. Which made Sir Thomas smile all the more, she truly was a magnificent creature.

Elizabeth wanted to reach out and clasp his hand to express her sympathies, but she feared that would be far too forward, and tantamount to scandal should Araminta flounce back in and see her openly caressing a man she had only known for ten minutes – if that. Even if it was only touching his hand… Gossip could spread like wildfire, and she didn’t need her name being bandied around London as the biggest flirt of the season. Her previous good natured reputation could be in tatters by the morning.

“Bless you, Miss Farrow. You are far too kind.” He smiled, because he really did mean it.

“I lost my own mother when I was 16. It is a hardship of unspeakable misfortune. But I imagine, as you have informed me, your spoiling them rotten would make you a most beloved Uncle…”

She smiled. Her sense of prediction remarkably on point. They did adore him, to the moon and back. They could not be more grateful to him for extending his home to them, being unfailingly kind to all three of the Thatcher-Kenworthy ladies, he was under no obligations to do so, he just had a big heart, and wanted to be there for his family. Especially after his experiences in the war.

“I am a poor subsitute for their father. That much I know, but I believe I make do in helping out Iris rather nicely.”

He spoke humbly, in a diffident manner that she was just willing to bet, Iris Thatcher-Kenworthy would kindly confirm him to be too modest for his own good, if Libby so lucky ever to have the opportunity to meet her.

“Still, I bet your neices dote upon you something fiercely wicked, Sir Thomas.” She smiled. Folding her hands in her emerald green lap.

He smiled, accepting her compliment by inclining his head in a tiled nod.

“I suspect you are quite possibly correct, Miss.” He grinned.

“Are you to remain in town long?” She asked thoughtfully. He knew she was bred to not ask impersonal or impolite questions.

“My buisness in town is sadly coming to an end, but, I think I may have found reason tonight, to extend it.”

He smiled, his eyes burning deep into her own again in a way that made her flush. He watched as a sweep of redness swept easily and very obviously across her pale skin, down her supple, slender neck and finishing the race at her heaving chest. Of which the neck of the gown bared rather elegantly, her corseted bodice doing her a great number of favours, as he could see the ample fullness of her bosom pushed up high by the restricted space inside her dress. Elizabeth simply knew that the pointed meaning behind his statement was him starting to prevail mutual attraction upon her, he would stay in town just to better make her aqquaintance. The way his eyes were boring deep into her told her that he had not meant to stay for any other reason than to get to know her.

Her lips gaped, and she tried to remember how to converse politely with someone of the opposite sex. But his eyes and the way they were wandering across her lips and her face made the task a truly hard measure, indeed.

“Sir Thomas.. I..”

She began, taking deep breaths, through a small gaped smile, hand nervously touching the side of her neck which felt quite hot all of a sudden. Oh, how he longed to follow the path where her fingers touched now with his lips, to be rewarded with one of her tiny gasps of moaning desire. He was willing to bet her cherry pink lips would part beautifully when she sighed through them, his name the only thing on her tongue…

“If you’ll permit me, Miss Farrow. You must allow me to tell you how ravishing and lovely you look in emerald green. A absolute vision.” He rasped, his smile reaching her eyes as quite the lovliest and most seductive thing she had ever seen.

At this point, Elizabeth heard a commotion in the hallway, and as she heard the strict familiar tone of one Sir Cecil Burke, and one Marcus Burke erupt in the hallway, greeting her parents not long after.

She flew from her seat like a shot, like she had been burned. Almost as if she and Sir Thomas were engaged in an act that was considered the height of impropriety. Yet they weren’t, they were merely talking. Yet still she found this was enough to leave her pulasting with silliness of the most female kind, and desperately wanting to kiss the handsome smile away from the Duke’s lips.

Sir Thomas rose to his feet along with her, seeing she looked a little unsettled.

“Madam, please accept my utmost sincere apologies if my earlier compliment was received with alarm. I would wish no such grievance upon you, please forgive me.” He began to gabble, fearing he had let his desire for her overwhelm her in his words.

Elizabeth smiled, quickly.

“The compliment was lovely, Sir Thomas. Quite the loveliest I have ever been given. Understand me when I say I didn’t receive it poorly at all. Only, I fear your stay in town may be deemed an unjust and unmerited venture. For, currently, I am already receiving the attentions of another gentleman.” She spoke quietly. Looking down to the floor, before she met his eyes again. She felt ashamed, leading on one gentleman, when she was already accepting the affections of another. What must he think of me now? Elizabeth panicked. He must have now think she was a flirt of the highest order.

“But you must believe me to be so bold as to say I wish now more than ever, that this was not the case.” She hushed quietly. Chewing her lip as she looked at him with sadness in her eyes.

“You are to be imminently betrothed to Mr Burke?” He asked gently.

She nodded. Swallowing in nervousness.

“Do you, confirm, his, mutual attraction, to you?” He asked, lowly.

She blinked, staying still for a second, before her resolve crumbled.

She shook her head.

“Has he asked yet, for your hand in marriage?”

Again, she shook her head. But this time she also let a low and whispered

“No.” crack from inbetween her lovely lips.

She watched as he smiled.

“Then, in which case my dear, it would be unremittingly foolish of me to not give Burke a run for his money.” He smiled, one regal brow tipping back up his forehead in amusement.

“You, wish to, court me also?” She asked.

Again, came that foxes grin.

“Oh yes.”

He purred, and they were stood far closer than should be appropriate now. But neither one of them cared one bit that they were posed as such.

“With your blessing, Miss Elizabeth. I will take it upon myself to make more social visits To the Farrow Household in the coming days, if you would care to receive me, and my attentions.”

Elizabeth smiled.

“Very much so.”

She gabbled, voice racing and her heart pounding. Knowing she was being unfailingly unkind to Mr Burke’s wishes. But, she realised when she first laid eyes on Sir Thomas Kenworthy, that now, she could never settle for a bland man such as Marcus Burke, because her heart had been truly stirred by the Duke of Chatsworth, and she found that was something she could not easily recover from or push aside. She was too much of a romantic to deny herself the feelings of true love when it fell right into her lap, here, in her very own home.

“Mr Burke is, I think, you should know. Not a kind man. I do not think this news will find him well.” She whispered in trepidation.

“Has he ever had the utter indecency to mistreat you, Miss Farrow?” Sir Thomas asked, eyes turning positively frosty at the notion of such.

“..And may I just say, if he has, then I can only apologise on behalf of my gender..”

He offered. Feeling utterly tense now he thought about this vision of loveliness being mistreated by a man’s rough hands and brute strength that outweighed her delicate nature.

“I have found out during our courting, that drink makes wicked monsters of men.” She eluded.

He felt his fists clench by his sides.

She took a couple of tiny steps away from Sir Thomas’s heat radiating form, which she was being pulled closer too, like the pull of gravity. Just in time for the rest of their party to cross back over the threshold and spot them both, stood in the parlour a respectable distance away from each other. But their romantic profession mere moments ago was not quite as decent as it ought have been.

Elizabeth turned and smiled nicely just as Marcus and Cecil Burke glided through the doorway, Marcus’s eyes heading straight for Elizabeth. It would have taken a idiot of elephantine proportions to not notice how Marcus had little care to how his lecherous eyes hungered over Elizabeth’s figure. Clinging to her behind, and straying for a long moment on her amply proportioned bosom.

Sir Thomas Kenworthy noticed this. And it made his blood boil in his veins, and his hands screw into tight fists of balled muscle as he clasped them out of sight behind his back. Jaw scrunched tight as he tried not to glare at this oaf of a man who did not know hide nor hair of how to treat a woman as exquisite as the one who stood next to him.

Thomas watched as the man crossed to Elizabeth, smile and stance reeking of toxic bachelors arrogance as he walked across to her. Stopping and bowing in front of her, which she returned. Curtseying politely before he took her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. Eyes curving up to meet hers, and she then found that she didn’t like the colour of Marcus Burkes eyes anymore, she rather found she favoured Thomas Kenworthy’s chipped ice blue eyes far more now, instead…. Especially now that Mr Burkes eyes shone maliciously dark at her.

“You look enchanting, as always, Miss Farrow. A veritable picture of pure loveliness…” He winked. In a manner most forward.

If Sir Thomas got angry at the way in which he could see another mans lips pressed to her skin, then the wink just about made him see red.

“Who is your… Friend?.”

Burke asked Elizabeth, the way in which he spat ‘friend’ was enough to show that he would not take kindly to Thomas one bit, raising a lofty brow at the man who towered over him. Burke may have had stocky muscles and the obvious brute strength that came with such, But Sir Thomas had all the sinew and lean muscle that accompanied that of his towering height of six foot four. He was thinner in build to look at, But thinking him powerless would be a absolutely dreadful mistake.

“Marcus Burke, May I introduce Sir Thomas Kenworthy, the resident Duke of Chatsworth.”

Elizabeth formerly greeted. Watching as the two men glared slightly at one another, giving no movement but a brisk bow that was barely a lukewarm gesture of civility. The two men surveyed each other with frost and ice in their gazes.

“A Duke, eh? Large estate out in the country I take it. Must be a large demanding business to attend to.”

Burke said drily, words like a double edged blade. Thomas couldn’t quite decipher his meaning, or the intentions behind his statement.

“It keeps me occupied.”

Thomas finished tersely. A smile flickering across his lips so that no one could fault him for being unkind. If the man extended niceties, then so would he. If he was going to act in a manner of sheer rudeness to him. Then Sir Thomas would mirror whatever sentiment Burke cared to fend him off with. He would not kill the man with kindness as he was being rebuffed, but nor would he sneer at him, like Burke was doing to him. He was enough of a kind man to atleast not be rude.

And he was quickly deciding that Marcus Burke could not be the man to shackle the wonderful Miss Farrow into marriage. His character was poison, his manner crass and the way he held himself suggested he considered his position in society so great, it allowed him to look down his nose upon everyone below him. Whilst there was spirit in his body, and breath in his lungs, Sir Thomas would not let Marcus Burke wriggle his way into marrying the woman next to him. Because he would treat her no better than a pet, a trophy. And he would not allow himself to account for Miss Farrow to be kept miserably in holy matrimony, bound to the man as an object for him to paw over, and to do nothing but slake Burke’s lust, and produce their next heir. – Over his dead body, would he allow that to happen. She didn’t deserve that. And he had only made Burke’s acquaintance a mere second ago. Already he loathed the man.

“May I ask as to why you are in London when you have such pressing matters in the country, your highness?..” Burke started, his tone mocking the Duke. Not caring for the way in which he seemed to be standing over Miss Farrow as if he had any right too.

Elizabeth cast a weary glance over Burke’s shoulder to see that Her Father, and Mrs Sharpe were indeed clustered by the doorway, speaking to the portly man that was Cecil Burke. Elizabeth would be hard pressed as to enquire where Marcus’s good looks came from. Because he certainly didn’t inherit them from his father. Cecil Burke was a short, stout man. With fat chubby legs and arms, and whatever his waistcoat, it always sought to bulge under the voluptuous weight of his protruding stomach. His face and neck were also fat and bulging, his chin and cheeks flabby, and his lips rubbery and wide as he leered at something her father said. Still, Libby noted there was little to no love in the man’s dark eyes. Just greed. Greed and a lust for bettering his son, and the family business. So long as it gained him money.

“No need for the formal titles, Mr Burke. Just Sir Thomas will do.” The Duke growled with little patience.

Burke narrowed his eyes.

“Playing poor to appease us simple folk for the evening are we, Sire?” Burke glared.

Sir Thomas raised his head. Silent scathing look which was virtually deadly on his handsome features. His nails now biting into his hand he was clenching his fist so tight. And imagining how lovely it would be to plant his fist smack bang into Burke’s nose.

Elizabeth felt the need to step in and interject herself somewhat, before things took a turn for the uncivil.

“Mr Burke, Sir Thomas is a business associate of my fathers. He helps keep books for Sir Thomas’s estate in Derbyshire.”

Elizabeth added, a slight bite to her voice that warned Burke that he should try getting along with Sir Thomas, or this evening was going to be an awfully long one, for her. Not to mention the fact that Mrs Sharpe would slaughter him if she found out about his upright rudeness to the Duke.

She was aghast that Mr Burke was managing to be so rude to Sir Thomas. The man had done nothing but stand next to her. She was only all too glad that he hadn’t yet found out that Sir Thomas had expressed to her a wish of intending to court her also.

“I see.” Burke bit off blandly.

“Yes, My business has, sadly concluded, but I think I should like to remain in town for much longer now it has. With my work finalised, I may now turn my attention for far more leisurely pastimes. Who knows what agreeable events may unfold.”

Sir Thomas spoke pointedly making sure to look Burke right in the eyes, before his gaze roved off to flicker towards Elizabeth, keeping eye contact with her for a second.

She was sure her brain had intended for speech to come sailing out of her mouth, but all that seemed to surface instead, was a slight squeak. Lips gaping, but no sound coming from in-between them. As she held the Duke’s gaze.

Burke’s teeth looked like his jaw would soon grind them to dust.

It was at this point that Hawkins swiftly entered the room, and thereafter declared that Dinner was to be served.

Sir Thomas smiled, looking at Burke’s gritted jaw before he turned to the woman stood at his side.

“Miss Farrow.” He burst out loudly.

“As highest ranking gentleman in the room…”

He heard Burke grumble deep down in his chest with displeasure. Sir Thomas carried on, poking the proverbial bear with a stick.

“.. and subsequently as you are an unmarried female, may I request the pleasure of escorting you through to the Dining room, as social norm dictates I must?” He asked, a smile gripping his lips in a wide beam as he swares he heard Burke growl louder at the back of his throat.

Both Elizabeth and Sir Thomas watched as Marcus Burke’s hands clenched into balled fists, frowning at the man who was growling and snarling like a rabid animal.

“Perhaps Mr Burke could use the opportunity to moisten his parched throat with a drink…”

Sir Thomas thought aloud in pure taunting as he walked off with Elizabeth hooked to his arm. Glaring with a smile over his shoulder at Burke who was turning a lovely angered shade of tomato red.

The sight, to Sir Thomas, was quite the best thing he had ever seen.

Elizabeth kept quiet whilst they passed her father, who smiled rather too widely for Elizabeth’s liking. And Mrs Sharpe, who also smiled, yet wondered why Marcus Burke was a tense as a coiled spring, and as red as a crimson rose. She inclined her head politely to Cecil Burke who gave her and the Duke a fleeting smile. Wondering why his inadequate lump of a son was not the man escorting the red headed chit into the dining room.

They got out into the hall, curving round the corner to walk down another hallway into the large dining room that overlooked the orangery and the garden. The candles were lit on the table, making the silver cutlery glint with flickering sparkles as it lay neatly arranged on the walnut polished table.

“Sir Thomas, I’d no idea a gentleman like you could be so wicked.” Elizabeth stated with a tiny pleased smile as they continued to walk.

Sir Thomas quelled the little satanic voice in his head that leered ‘Oh, you have no idea, Elizabeth’ as his eyes roved over the delicate cross of her collarbone, housed under creamy pale skin, that he wanted to worship with tongue and teeth to make her moan. He wanted to show her how a gentleman would treat a lady. and oh, how well he would treat her.

“It was worth it to see his face tint redder than a strawberry, wouldn’t you say, Miss Farrow?”

He smiled naughtily, close into her ear, leering close to her supple neck that he also wanted to do wicked things too.

She tried to fight her smile, but Lord and Heaven help her, a smile broke the surface of her pursed lips as she suppressed a quiet titter of laughter.

“It was, I grant you, ever so slightly satisfactory..” She laughed.

Sir Thomas smiled looking at her then. She had a lovely laugh, and he wanted to devote his entire life to helping her better use it. A man such as Burke, never would.

“Imagine his face when he finds you and I are to be seated together at Dinner. I rather wager we shall be treated to the sight of steam pouring out of his ears.” He added in a devilish smile that was too roguishly handsome to be true, she discovered.

Elizabeth’s smile grew until she had to bite her lip to try and stave its ferocity. And then because the image was just so ridiculous, she laughed. She couldn’t not laugh. A man as rotten as Burke would never ensure she had a life filled with laughter and love, like he would.

“I fear he will be veritably purple by the time the night is through.” She offered.

“He will be if I proceed to make you smile that enchanting smile of yours all throughout Dinner.” Sir Thomas grinned, looking down to her as she turned and caught his eyes.

“Are we quite the most awful people in the whole of London to find hilarity in one man’s misfortune?” She asked him.

Sir Thomas smiled.

“Maybe… Yes.”

He granted with a nod as they came to the Dining table, seeing name cards had been placed in front of each setting, and neither of them were surprised to find they were smack bang next to each other. Fate was being a very kind mistress to the couple, this evening, indeed.

Fate, or more likely, the calculating talents of Mrs Sharpe, Elizabeth thought.

She watched as Sir Thomas dutifully pulled a chair out for her to sit down onto. Smiling as she folded her skirts out of the way and continued allowing the Duke to woo her.

“But, I daresay, Miss Farrow, that as I have heard you are quite the sweetest dispositioned woman this side of Grosvenor Square, and I, myself being oft remarked to to have a similar temperament, then two gentle souls, such as ourselves, should take solace in the fact that a little harmless enjoyment now and then, never hurt anyone..” He smiled wickedly.

Elizabeth found that she was becoming more and more susceptible to his charming smile…

#victorian era #victorian #historical #romance #tom hiddleston #dukes #duchesses #suitors #falling in love #love #historical fiction

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