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dragoneyes618 · 1 year ago

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The most recent generation bar one of the wealthy Fitzwarren family of England consisted of two sons: Peter, the elder by two years, and Richard, his younger brother. Despite growing up with the undercurrent of tension that the knowledge that Peter, as the firstborn, would inherit the majority of their father's wealth as well as his title created, the two brothers were the best of friends. As boys, they were each other's favorite playmate. As they grew older, they attended the same school (Eton), with each of them graduating nearly at the top of their class. They befriended the same people, ran in the same circles, and they even married sisters, Daphne and Emily Podwell, in the same year.

Here is where their fortunes began to differ. For while Richard and Emily were blessed with a child, a baby boy, scarcely a year after they were married, Peter and Daphne were not.

Nor were they blessed with a child after the second year of their marriage.

Or the third, or the fourth, or the fifth.

And so Julian Fitzwarren grew up with the knowledge, always in the back of his mind, that someday he would be the sole inheritor of the Fitzwarren title, manor, and fortune.

He was five years old when his grandfather, Lord Fitzwarren, died. He didn't remember him well, only in fragments- a silver-tipped cane, crinkled blue eyes.

He remembered the funeral-standing amid a sea of adult legs in a suit that itched; his mother clutching the golden locket around her neck, identical to the one her sister had, tightly in her right hand; his father's face controlled, emotionless.

He also remembered, around the time his uncle was officially confirmed Lord Peter Fitzwarren, overhearing his mother tell his father, "It's only money, Richard."

"It's not only money!" Julian's father exclaimed. "It's also the title, it's our son's future, it's-Julian, what are you doing here? Go back to bed."

So Julian never heard the end of that conversation.

It must be stated here that Richard Fitzwarren had developed a small gambling problem. Small, but a problem nevertheless, and he soon owed money to several different people. This led to friction between Richard and Peter. Peter restricted Richard's access to the family finances, saying that many a noble family had been driven o ruin because of gambling issues. Richard pointed out that if his brother allowed him enough money to pay his creditors, they wouldn't have this problem. Peter noted that if anything, the opposite was true. Emily and Daphne begged their husbands to get along, if only for their sake. Eventually, Richard, with the help of his wife, was able to manage and control his gambling problem. Mostly.

All this Julian was supposed to know nothing about, but he knew everything. Adults so often forget how perceptive children are.

It didn't particularly affect him, however. It was all under control. Besides, one day he would be Lord Fitzwarren anyway, so what did it matter?

This attitude, unfortunately, accompanied him throughout his young adult life-the attitude of I am wealthy, and I will be even wealthier, so I can do what I want.

And then Rose was born.

Rose was born when Julian was fifteen and Daphne and Peter had all but given up hope of ever having children.

When Julian's family heard the news, Emily was overjoyed that her sister had become a mother at last, but Richard was oddly stiff hen he shook his brother's hand; he kept glancing at Julian and muttering things like, "A loss for you, my boy."

At first, Julian was not particularly perturbed. Girls couldn't inherit, could they?

Actually, now they could, it turned out.

Then Julian understood how his father felt.

Rose was weak and sickly when she was born. She had to be kept away from other people until she gained strength, so Julian and his parents didn't get to meet her until she was healthy, when she was six months old.

Peter and Daphne greeted them in the front parlor. It was the first time Julian had seen either of them since before the baby's birth. His uncle looked ten years younger, and his aunt was almost glowing.

Emily and Daphne hugged each other, laughing and crying; Richard shook hands with Peter and clapped him on the back, but he seemed tense.

Then the nurse entered with the baby.

Daphne scooped baby Rose up and held her tenderly while Peter-who had always been stately and dignified-made silly faces at his daughter.

Then Daphne held Rose out to Julian. "Come, meet your cousin," she urged.

Interested despite himself, Julian stepped forward. So this was her: the baby that, as the eldest child of the eldest child, would inherit the Fitzwarren fortune, estate, everything, leaving Julian with nothing-or to be micromanaged, as his father had been by his brother, by this baby girl fifteen years his junior.

Rose had a few wisps of pale blonde hair and big dark blue eyes. She scrunched up her nose.

Then her gaze fell on Julian. She blinked. Then she giggled, a peal of innocent laughter ringing out in that old house that had not heard the sound of happy children in far too long.

Julian hated her already.

Julian and his parents began spending a lot more time at his aunt and unc-his cousin's. Apparently it was good for him and Rose to get to know each other. Not to mention that it was also good for the future Fitzwarren heir to grow up on good terms with her cousin and aunt and uncle. Not that anyone spoke of this to Julian, of course. Honestly, for how long would they insist on treating him like a child? He was nearly sixteen!

Two years passed in this way.

His mother loved to spend time with her sister and niece. Even his father seemed to loosen a little.

Julian was mostly bored on these visits. Rose was a toddler. She wouldn't remember this anyway. What was the point?

Besides, Rose, by dint of being born, had stolen his inheritance. From him! Why were they bootlicking her in this way? She was an infant!

He didn't voice these thoughts to anyone, though. They would be deemed too childish, too petty.

The main parlor of Fitzwarren Manor was set up like this: It was a big room, with several small tables and soft sofas at the sides, and a slightly bigger table near the entrance. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. In the center was a grand staircase, which led up to a small fenced-in indoor balcony that had hallways branching off into the house from either side. Rose loved to go up onto the balcony and look down on everyone else. It made her feel big.

Julian was sitting at the top of the staircase by the fence, listening to his father and his uncle disagree about something while pretending they weren't disagreeing. His mother and his aunt exchanged identical worried looks.

Two-year-old Rose toddled over and wrapped her arms around her aunt's knees. Emily laughed and kissed her niece on the cheek, but she sounded tense.

"Have it your way, Peter," Richard snapped, turning on his heel and stalking away.

"I'm sorry-" Emily started.

"Julian!" Richard called. "We're leaving!"

"Yes, Father," Julian said obediently. He put away the pocketknife he had received for his seventeenth birthday-really, did his parents think he was thirteen?-stood up without holding on to the balcony railing or the banister, and walked down the steps.

As he joined the others, Daphne, in a transparent effort to change the subject, said, "Julian, why do you so often sit on the top of the stairs? Our company isn't good enough for you anymore?"

"Of course, not, Aunt," Julian said, inwardly tensing slightly. "I just like the view."

"We'll see you tomorrow?" Emily asked Daphne.

"I hope so," Daphne said.

Peter and Richard both grunted, sounding identical, and then each pretended that he hadn't noticed the other.

Daphne and Emily exchanged helpless looks.

Julian kept his face expressionless, but inwardly, he was rolling his eyes.

Rose looked worried.

The entire next day, Emily kept pushing Peter to apologize. "They're our only family, Richard!" Julian overheard her once. "My sister! Your brother! Do you really want to estrange them over such a petty-"

Then they both noticed Julian and changed the subject.

So they were going to keep this charade up, then? Did they think he was blind to the tension between his father and his uncle?

In the late afternoon, Richard finally gave in to his wife's persistence. "Fine! I'll go talk to him tomorrow!"

"No," Emily said firmly. "You're going now."

Richard sighed.

"And I'm coming with you," she added.

"May I come too?" Julian requested. "I would like to see Rose."

And so all three of them called upon Fitzwarren Manor as dusk fell.

In the main parlor, Peter and Richard stood facing each other, not yet saying anything. Emily and Daphne stood a few metres away, each sister keeping an eye on her husband. Julian, meanwhile, had been sent away from the adults to "play" with Rose.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping now?" Julian asked his young cousin.

Rose shook he head, golden hair bouncing this way and that. "No!" she announced

"All right, all right," Julian acquiesced. "Well, would you like to play something?"

Rose nodded vigorously.

"How about peek-a-boo?" Julian suggested. "Go up to the balcony and play peek-a-boo with me from there."

"Yes!" Rose said. She began to climb determinedly up the staircase, stopping after each step to look behind her and make sure Julian was still there.

Finally she reached the top of the staircase. She leaned against the wooden bars of the balcony and, covering her eyes with her hands, said "Peek-a-"

She was cut off by a loud CRACK.

The noise caught the attention of the other adults, and for a moment they watched in mute horror as the wooden bars of the fence Rose was leaning against broke and the two-year-old heir, too shocked to scream, plummeted to the floor nine metres below.

The world stood still and silent for a moment, a little figure in pink falling slowly, almost floating, yet dropping so, so fast.

Hold up your arms, Julian thought to himself, and he raised them slightly above his head.

Then Julian was abruptly shoved aside; he stumbled, caught himself, and turned just in time to see his uncle catch Rose moments before she would have hit the floor.

The impact drove Peter backward; he staggered back a few steps before regaining his balance, keeping an iron grip on Rose all the while.

Daphne rushed over, and Emily, and even Richard, and they all crowded around the shocked, silent Rose in Peter's arms.

Then Rose gasped, and burst into tears, the tears of a healthy toddler, and Daphne started crying also, and even Peter blinked back tears, suddenly terrifyingly aware of how close he had come to losing his only child.

"Should I send for a doctor?" Richard offered, his earlier quarrel with Peter all but forgotten in the spectre of near death.

"She's safe," Daphne half sobbed, seizing Rose and clutching her to her chest. "You're safe."

Peter looked up at the broken balcony fence. "What, exactly, just happened?"

Investigation of the fence revealed that several of the bars had been half sawed through with a knife, so that they would break if pressure was applied, such as a small girl leaning against it.

"Someone did this on purpose?" Daphne asked in disbelief.

Peter sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. "It looks like it, dear."

"But who? And how? And...why?"

Peter answered all her questions with a simple, "We don't know."

The servants were interrogated. all of them claimed to know nothing, and all of them either had strong alibis or had been trusted members of the Fitzwarren household for years.

"You can know someone for years and find out he isn't the kind of person you thought he was," Richard muttered darkly.

"Richard, not now," Emily hissed.

No concrete conclusion was arrived at, but eventually the furor died down. Rose had no further "accidents," and thankfully was too young to remember what har family had started calling "the incident."

One day when Rose was four, she insisted that Julian play hide-and-seek with her. Which, in Julian's opinion, was absurd. He was nineteen. What was he doing, playing childish games with an infant fifteen years younger than him?

But no one ever listened to Julian's opinion anyway.

His mother gave him a look that said she would be very disappointed in him if he didn't drop everything and play with Rose. Well, if that was the worst punishment she could think of, he was fortunate.

His mother was always saying how good it was that her only child and her sister's only child should be so close.

And his father was always saying that it would be good to endear himself to the Fitzwarren heir, even when she was very young.

And his aunt was always worried that Rose had no one to play with.

And that was how Julian ended up playing hide-and-seek with his cousin fifteen years his junior.

This was humiliating.

As Rose skipped along the hallway of one of the lower levels of Fitzwarren Manor, a necklace bounced against her chest. Julian realized it was a golden locket, identical to the one his mother and his aunt had.

Actually, had Daphne been wearing her locket-which she always wore-earlier? He thought not.

So his aunt had given her locket, identical to his mother's locket, treasured tokens of the sister's love for each other, to her precious daughter.

He wondered how his mother would feel upon learning that her sister had given away the locket she had gifted Daphne on her wedding day-the twin of the one Daphne had given Emily on her wedding day-even if it had been given to Rose.

Probably she would be just fine with it.

Rose was still a baby, really. You didn't trust babies with items of sentimental value, or heirlooms.

(Or inheritances...)

"Julian!" Rose said, interrupting his reverie. "Who hides first?"

Julian looked at his young cousin, considering. Still, perhaps this was an opportunity.

"Rose," he said, "shall I show you some excellent hiding places?"

Peter found Julian reading in an armchair in the library.

"Julian." He sounded pleased, but surprised. "I thought you were playing a game with Rose?"

Julian looked up from Bleak House. "She wandered away somewhere. I thought she didn't want to play anymore. Why, isn't she with you?"

"No." Peter sounded concerned already.

Well, of course he would be. Rose is his only child. And heir.

At first, everyone assumed that Rose had simply been distracted by something, or maybe fallen asleep. She would show up sooner or later.

But she didn't.

The search for Rose began in earnest, and grew more frantic as time went on.

Fitzwarren Manor was big, and there were a lot more places for a little girl to hide than Julian would have thought. His legs began to ache and his throat began to grow hoarse from walking up and down the hallways over and over calling Rose's name. Still, Julian reminded himself, it would all be worth it in the end.

Rose was not found.

Daphne was on the verge of summoning the police when suddenly one of the maids cried, "Lady Fitzwarren! Lady Fitzwarren!" and came running up, dragging with her by the hand a red-eyed, tear-streaked Rose.

The reactions of the other Fitzwarrens were pretty much the same as they were after Rose's fall from the balcony-crying, hugging, etc. Of course they were.

Don't be so childish, Julian berated himself. You'll have other chances.

"How can we ever thank you?" Peter was asking the maid who had found Rose.

"'Twas no trouble, sir," the maid said, ducking her head bashfully. "Anyone would've done it. I was just doing my job."

"Where did you find her, Beth?" Daphne asked, hugging Rose tightly.

Apparently, Beth the maid had been sent to the cellar on an errand and had heard crying coming from a small storage room at the very farthest end of the cellar, the door of which had somehow gotten locked from the outside.

If Beth had bot been sent to the cellar...if she had not gone as far in as she did(which hardly anyone ever did)...if Rose's cries had been any quieter...the young Fitzwarren heir would not have been found for hours, days, weeks. And by the time she was found, it would have been too late.

Rose, being only four, would later remember nothing of this episode except that she was left with a fear of small, dark places.

(The asylum, later on, did not help with this. Neither did having to hide in a secret room in the basement of Rookwood School.)

She was also left with a lingering wariness of her cousin Julian.

Three days after Julian turned twenty-one, Richard and Emily Fitzwarren died when the brakes on their automobile failed during a too-sharp turn and they went straight off the road into a tree.

The inheritance wasn't as much as Julian expected. Apparently his father's gambling issue had been greater than he had thought. And of course, his uncle Peter was in control of most of the family's money.

Everyone cried at the funeral.

Peter immediately invited Julian to live in Fitzwarren Manor with him and his family. They were, after all, the only family he had left.

But Daphne's face was shadowed by suspicion, and she refused to look Julian in the eye. Her face seemed to twist and crumple whenever she saw him, she whisked Rose out of his way, and she had many whispered arguments with her husband.

It was soon common knowledge among the Fitzwarren family members(the ones that were left, anyway), even Rose-adults so often forget how perceptive children are-that Daphne suspected Julian of engineering his parents' accident.

"How can you suspect him of something like this?" Peter demanded. "He's my brother's son!" You really think he would stoop so low?"

"And he's my sister's son!" Daphne shot back. "You think it doesn't break my heart, that my own flesh and blood could do such a thing? He was supposed to go to town with them but changed his mind at the last moment, the brakes had been tampered with-I'm not having him around Rose!"

"I refuse to believe my brother's son capable of such heinous acts!" Peter roared. "He's all I have left of Richard! I'm not going to accuse my only nephew of murder based on nothing but groundless suspicions!"

So it went.

Richard refused to believe that his only brother's only son was capable of what Daphne was suggesting. Daphne, for her part, didn't want to believe that her own sister's only son was capable of murder, but the facts stood, and the events of the past few years suddenly made an awful kind of sense.

Eventually, Peter and Daphne reached an uneasy compromise. Julian would be sent away to university. He would mature there, and only come back to Fitzwarren Manor infrequently. Hopefully, Peter thought, this would give Daphne time to come to her senses and realize that there was no way Julian could have tampered with the automobile. It was unthinkable.

The night before Julian was due to leave, Peter knocked on the door of his room and asked if he could speak to him.

"Of course, Uncle," Julian replied politely.

Peter entered the room and began to pace back and forth, while Julian sat in his chair and watched him unblinkingly.

Peter coughed, cleared his throat, coughed again, and finally began to speak. "Julian," he began, and repeated himself. "Julian. I hope-I hope you realize that this is not a reflection on you."

Julian understood immediately what his uncle was talking about. "Of course, Uncle," he replied. "It's for the best."

"You should know," his uncle continued, "that I do not for one moment believe-what your aunt has said."

"I know," Julian assured him, although he felt slightly queasy.

"She's not thinking straight," Peter said, fiddling with his watch chain. "She's grieving. But I'll talk to her. She'll come around."

"I very much hope so," Julian replied, and then added. "Thank you for all that you've done for me. I-I really do appreciate it."

"Of course." Peter looked surprised. "Of course."

He hesitated, wanting to say more but unsure of how or what. Communication had never been his forte.

He settled for nodding and pumping Julian's hand. Then he left, thinking of his now-broken family. The only thing that had made his brother's death and his wife's accusations bearable, he decided, was Rose.

Barely five minutes after Peter had left one of the maids knocked on Julian's door and informed him that Lady Fitzwarren wished to speak to him in the drawing room.

Julian made his way to the drawing room and entered without knocking, feeling nervous.

Daphne was sitting in a red armchair at the far side of the room. There was no other chair nearby for Julian to sit, and she made no move to invite him to pull one over.

"Hello, Aunt," Julian said, giving her a formal half-bow.

"Julian," Daphne almost hissed.

There were several moments of tight, uncomfortable silence, which Daphne suddenly broke by saying, "I wish you were not my nephew."

Julian decided not to respond. Anything he said would only make it worse.

"If you were not my nephew," Daphne continued, "then my sister would not be your mother, and she would still be alive."

"I-"

"Silence!" she commanded. "Listen to me, Julian Fitzwarren."

She stood up abruptly, drawing herself up to her full height, which was actually two inches shorter than Julian, although it didn't feel like it. He was suddenly struck by her eyes, which looked exactly like his mother's.

"I know what you did," Daphne continued fiercely. "I may not have proof, but I know it, and you know it, and I hope it eats you up inside and never lets you sleep another night! And Rose will know it; I will tell her everything, and she will never trust you. Why have you tried to live with us? Are you waiting for us to die so you can have everything?"

"Of course n-"

"Go!" she shouted. "Go far away from my family, go to your university. And never come back! But know this, Julian Fitzwarren. I am watching you."

Right. Time to regain control of the situation.

"My dear aunt." Julian tipped his hat, forcing his tone to stay polite and emotionless. "You are overwrought by grief. I shall see you later, when you are in a better frame of mind. Good night."

He bowed to her and walked away, out the door.

Behind him, Daphne shouted, "You are a vulture, Julian Fitzwarren!"

Julian closed the door to the drawing room and took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He was rattled.

His gaze fell on Rose, who had obviously been standing by the door eavesdropping the entire time; her face was pale and her eyes were very wide.

Julian gave her a sardonic bow and left to his room.

University was all right. Some of the classes were interesting. Some of them were boring, of course, but that was only to be expected. He made some new-well, he wouldn't call them friends yet, but definitely friendly associates.

He also made the acquaintance of a lovely young woman named Phyllis; they planned to marry as soon as they graduated from their respective universities and they had enough funds, which, for Julian at least, should definitely not be a problem.

Peter wrote occasional letters, which Julian answered. Sometimes, at his uncle's urging, Julian would spend breaks or holidays at Fitzwarren Manor, but they were always awkward, what with Peter's forced joviality and Daphne glaring at him from the other end of the table.

Rose observed everything that was going on, clutching her locket so tightly it made a mark in her hand.

On one such break, Julian returned to Fitzwarren Manor to find that both Lord and Lady Fitzwarren had fallen ill.

"Just in the past couple of days, sir," the housekeeper explained worriedly. "There wasn't time to notify you."

"With what?" Julian demanded, his mind whirling. "How seriously?"

"Pneumonia," a new voice said. The Fitzwarren family doctor walked into the room. He was an older gentleman, in his sixties, gray-haired, but despite his age, the Fitzwarrens had trusted him with their health since before Julian's birth. He had attended Julian's grandfather in his final illness. "As for how seriously-rather so, I'm afraid. I would have sent for you already, if the staff hadn't told me you were to be returning now. I fear....."

Even after years and years of being in the medical practice, he still could not deliver bad news with the equanimity of some of his colleagues.

Julian nodded in understanding, his ears buzzing. "I see," was all he said.

Peter and Daphne were, indeed, very ill. Scarcely anyone was allowed in the sickroom besides for the doctor, for fear of contagion. This meant that Rose was not allowed to see her parents, no matter how much she begged.

She took to spending all of her time either in her room, in a corner of the kitchen where the staff congregated, or sitting on couches or chairs of various out-of-the-way sitting rooms, warily observing the strange new activity in the house. For, around the second week of Peter and Daphne's illness, Julian had realized that with his aunt and uncle severely ill, and Rose young and timid, he was essentially in charge of Fitzwarren Manor. And, with the sad death of his aunt and uncle, it would be his. Well, Rose's, but Rose was too young. At least that.

So Julian began to make a few changes: the first, assessing the value of the property in the house; the second, replacing much of the household staff with new servants who would know only him as their employer.

Beth was the first to go.

Rose was sitting on the floor of the parlor late at night, her back against the front of an armchair, reading a book.

She heard footsteps, and looked up to see her cousin Julian. Every warning her mother had ever said and all of the strange happenings in the house flashed through her mind, and she jumped up and ran out of the room, weaving through the house to eventually arrive at the servant's staircase and take it upstairs to her room; no one would be on it at this late hour.

Julian sighed. He really would have preferred it differently, but it was clear that his aunt had poisoned his cousin against him. This was a problem. He clenched his fists.

Something caught his eye; he bent and picked up the book Rose had been reading; in her rush to leave, she'd left it on the floor. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

Idly, he opened the book to a random page.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat. "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

Julian closed the book and stood for some time with a pensive look on his face.

Time stretched interminably. Fevers raged, lungs struggled for breath, and Lady Daphne Elizabeth Podwell Fitzwarren died of pneumonia on the fifteenth of March.

On the thirteenth, she called for her solicitor, insisting that several changes be made to her and Peter's will, the force of her persistence becoming so strong that the doctor eventually ordered the solicitor to make the called-for changes, for Lady Fitzwarren's own health.

Julian approached the solicitor as he closed his briefcase outside the sickroom. "May I ask what my aunt had you do?"

"You can ask, but I can't answer." The solicitor shrugged. "Rules of confidentiality and all that. I'm sorry."

"I see..." Julian said slowly. "What's your name, by the way?" he asked as the solicitor stepped out the door.

"Bloodworth," the solicitor called over his shoulder.

On the fourteenth, Rose was admitted into the sickroom, an exception being made just this once. She stayed for hours, and fell asleep next to her mother, heedless of possible contagion, awaking on the morning of the fifteenth to find her mother dead, and herself Lady Fitzwarren.

After her mother's death, Rose stopped speaking, although it took some time for Julian to realize this, since Rose scarcely spoke around him anyway.

Her already troubled sleep began to be even more disturbed; she saw her mother's face, beautiful and pale and unmistakably dead every time she closed her eyes. She went to the kitchen once, to see if she could have a soothing chamomile tea like her mother used to give her whenever she had trouble sleeping, but the cook was new and strange, and so was most everyone else there; one of the new maids asked her what she wanted and she simply stared at all of them for a moment, then ran back to her room.

Julian was walking through the main parlor late at night, carrying a letter to be mailed to Phyllis, when he noticed a flash of white in the shadows on the other side of the room.

He froze.

The figure moved closer.

He laughed suddenly. It was only Rose, in her nightgown, her blue eyes wide. "Rose! What are you doing here at this hour?"

Rose stared blankly at him, her eyes big and eerie.

"Rose!"

Rose showed no reaction.

A chill trailed down Julian's spine. She's sleepwalking. He snapped his fingers in front of Rose's face. "Rose!" he almost shouted.

Rose jumped, her eyes suddenly awake and wild. She looked around in confusion before her eyes settled on Julian.

"You were sleepwalking, Rose," Julian said quietly. What a peculiar girl. "You just walked right across the room, sleeping the whole time. It looked very odd."

Rose frowned.

Julian took a step forward so that his shadow fell beyond her; he loomed over her. He was so much taller than her. "Do you know what they used to say of sleepwalkers in the old days, Rose?"

Rose shook her head, interested despite herself, clutching her locket tightly with her right hand as though it were a protective charm.

Julian smiled sharply. "They said they were possessed by the devil."

Rose turned and fled upstairs.

After his wife's death Peter declined greatly; hope was all but given up for him.

But then, perhaps it was the thought of his daughter, perhaps it was a miracle, but against all odds, Peter rallied and began to recover. His health grew steadier by the day. Rose could now occasionally be seen with a small smile on her face.

Eventually the day came when the doctor pronounced Peter well enough that he no longer needed constant tending.

"Give him this twice a day," the doctor said, handing Julian a small blue cloth bag filled with white powder. "Once in the morning, once in the evening. He should recover within the month; six weeks at the most. Leave the windows open unless it's cold or rainy; he needs fresh air. You can allow your cousin to visit him; she'll lift his spirits considerably, and that can make all the difference. My condolences on the loss of your aunt."

"Yes..." Julian said, holding the bag of powder, only half listening to what the doctor was saying.

After the doctor left, Julian remained staring at the wall for a few minutes. Eventually he arrived at a decision.

He put the blue bag in the back of the bottom drawer of his bureau. Then he want on a walk. He needed fresh air, and he had an errand to run.

Julian assiduously gave his uncle powder from his green bag twice daily, sprinkling it in Peter's tea or broth. But Peter worsened, his fever climbing, his breathing labored, his cough hacking.

Julian told two of his new hired servants to stand guard at the entrance to the sickroom and make sure that Lady Rose would not enter, lest she fall ill as well. And so Rose was left to pace the floor of her room, back and forth, back and forth, almost a prisoner in her own home, in an agony of terror and grief and self-recrimination, wishing she was braver, smarter, more outspoken, something.

Lord Peter William Fitzwarren died on the tenth of April.

At the funeral, Julian wore all black, shed a few genuine tears, and promised to do what was best for his young cousin no matter what.

No one suspected(except perhaps Rose, but she was too scared to say anything and no one would have believed her if she had)that the medicine the doctor had given Julian, which still sat patiently in its blue bag in the bottom of Julian's bureau, was not what he had given his uncle at all.

#scarlet and ivy #rose fitzwarren #julian fitzwarren #fanfiction #writing #sophie cleverly

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