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pupil-of-law · 3 years ago

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mettleborn·:

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Had Sebastian moved in that moment to offer any sortof apology, it would have undoubtedly fallen on deafened ears and so hisbaiting taunt serves only to provide further justification to William’s growingwrath. Indeed, the only words that truly interest William are those that signala success of sorts, however benign; that Reed will abandon his beliefs indecency and goodness, just as Cavendish beckoned him to in the club. He isill-suited to them after all and if all that the Earl has managed to accomplishin their time together, is to rid Sebastian of his hypocrisy, then perhaps theirevening held some merit after all. Perhaps they might even have been friends insome strange future, though such flights of fancy must not simply be abandonednow, but completely buried.

The young Lord’s apparent obsession with claiming his estateand staff for himself is met with an amused scoff, though it does serve toplant a sinister seed in the Earl’s mind, one that suggests it is not Sebastianhimself that should be William’s primary target, but rather his siblings. Howwould Reed react he wonders, if they were to succumb to William’s manipulationand charm and unwittingly take him into their bosom allowing an infection mostdeep and internal…perhaps even familial? His Sister is indeed a pretty little thing and his older Brother thirsts for power; both present different possibilities. How gloriously insidious a victory thatwould be.

A breath is all that Cavendish conveys in response tothe young Lord’s assertion, long and laboured as he considers his next move.Should he eject Reed now, he will likely begin his counter assault immediately,a foolish move prompted by William’s pride and outrage, a smarter tactic wouldbe to keep him here for a time, to cut him off from his peers and family, atleast until Cavendish has had opportunity to move his first piece on the board.

When Mrs Francis appears again at the doorway, two tallmen, both holding guns, accompany her and as they whisper to each other inPolish and regard Mrs Francis fondly, it becomes obvious they are members ofher family. Lord Reed’s assault upon her Lord has not gone unnoticed it seems and she has clearly taken command of the situation in his stead, having heard from the doctor that William has likely sustained a fracture to his skull when attacked in London.

“We have had word the Lady Lennox is on her way in acarriage.” The old woman confirms, briefly flashing the notejust handed to her from a messenger. It is an unexpected turn of events butnews that William welcomes, her counsel is always highly valued and he is happy for her to dote upon his injury, if the mood takes her.

“Take Lord Reed down to the dayroom, he is permitted abook to read and tea. He may only leave to use the water closet and he mustremain accompanied at all times. When Lady Lennox arrives, please, show her tomy chambers.”

Turning to observe the appearance of Mrs Frances, Sebastian swallowed distastefully and tried to keep a sulky look off his face - immediately her maudlin motherishness made him feel sick, stood between William’s silly toy soldiers with their blank faces, as if he had fashioned them all out of the clay at the bottom of his lake.

Rather than make an argument of the blatant illegality of all that was occurring, for he felt sure his host was entirely indifferent to it, he merely served Cavendish an icy look of resentment before he turned and allowed himself to be led wherever it was he was to be consigned for his crime of having conducted a single minute of his life the way Cavendish conducted the entirety of his.

In the day room, Sebastian paced up and down, then went straight to the fireplace and laid his forearms on the lintel to bury his face in anger with himself. For, now that he was free of the noxious heat and atmosphere of Cavendish’s presence that seemed to be able to drive him completely out of his senses, Sebastian felt a freezing wash of grief pass through him, and he gave a huff of fraught breath and gave a sharp kick to the fire grate to stop himself from releasing a less manly noise that might be overheard. How Cavendish managed to make him act as he had done, he simply couldn’t answer for. But he was appalled to realise that even now, the feeling of having that man’s hair in his grip, the weight of his head at the mercy of his own whims, sent a rush of satisfaction to the pit of his stomach. He breathed shallowly as his thoughts ran away from him. A volley of images danced along his optic nerve of Cavendish lying lifeless and bloody on his bed. Cavendish floating face-down on the surface of the lake, beautiful and immobile. Cavendish pleading to be spared while his head was slipped into the gallows noose before Sebastian’s cold, unfeeling prosecution. He got a hold of himself.

The door opened and a tea tray less grand than the one William had been delivered was wheeled in, along with a single book. ‘Thank you,’ Sebastian murmured. An hour passed. Another after that. Sebastian read voraciously to keep his mind from wandering. Once he had finished the book, he knocked on the door and requested another. A few minutes later, the little liveried sentinel came back with a pile that was stacked on the tea tray. Sebastian curiously picked up the first cloth-bound edition - Madame Bovary - and sat down to set himself sedulously to it. His eyes were wide as a shock-victim’s by the third page. He glanced up on some irrational instinct to see that he was alone, but went back to the book until he had finished that too. The next on the pile was Laclos’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses. Then two slim volumes, Candide and The Prince, and a fifth called 120 Days of Sodom or The School of Libertinage. Not only was the content of these volumes in William’s possession greatly illuminating, but so too were the notes in the margins… Nobody heard a sound from the day room for all the proceeding four and a half hours.

He was starting to grow tired as the heavy clouds beyond the park descended over Trematon, and, not daring to ask for any more literature, Sebastian had picked up a family album and was looking over the pictures of William as a crying pink infant when the doors opened once again. ‘I don’t want any more tea,’ Sebastian snapped, his back turned. But at the sound of heels on the lacquered floor, he swung around on the chaise-longue and started up at once when he caught sight of Lady Lennox, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t realise it was you, Lady Lennox.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the servants shake his head as if his behaviour confirmed concretely the brutishness of their guest. Not only he, but several more servants seemed to have gathered to form the welcoming party out in the hall, now dispersing to their duties again. Sebastian could understand why they were so fascinated to garner Lady Lennox’s attention. She radiated, despite her weary appearance, some special languorous glow which threw everyone, aged butlers, footmen and even maids into a flutter of at best endearment, and worst concupiscence.

He stepped forward with a bright smile, relieved to see a friendly face, and motioned for the butler to leave them alone - as if he was at perfect liberty to command them as he pleased. The possibility of her finding out that he was not permitted to leave this room was simply too awkward to entertain. ‘You must be parched. Here, let me pour you some tea. Stay and talk to me. Please do. The Earl is asleep, I’m sure of it. Or if he isn’t, he won’t want to see you.’ Sebastian knew his entreaties had tailed into absurdity, and he could do nothing but punctuate the end of his sentence with a regretful smile that told her he knew he was being unreasonable, and he would, of course, let her go free. As he looked into her pretty face, he mentally scolded himself for being glad that Cavendish had such a loyal friend to tend to his injury, and the wish to repeat said injury twice as hard faithfully returned to him.

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