Chapter Text
Mary trembles as she walks the empty hallways, the candle flickering flame of the candle clutched in her hands leading the wavering dance. Her feet are soft against the stone floor, yet they thunder in her ear like the loudest tempest. Thunder erupts outside, just as she raises her hand to knock upon the door - two taps of her knuckles, then a pause and then three firm raps of her hand against the door.
For a moment, there is a haunting pause and not a single sound comes from the other side of the door, and for those frighteningly long moments, perhaps a couple breaths, she ceases to breathe. Then, the door opens, just a smidge. A dark hand reaches out of the small opening - gloved, as it snuffs the candle clutched in her hand. A second hand then reaches forward, gripping her arm, pulling her inside.
"Are you prepared, my child?," said the voice, though tinted with age, still has not lost its aristocratic cadence, "You are not to pass through the gardens now, Mary."
"Then I must make my way through the kitchens, mam," Mary insisted firmly, clutching the envelope closely to her coat, taking care not to crumple it. "Miss Josephine is asleep now, she is."
Mary's eyes were wide, her body tense with fear, her very soul gripped by terror, but amidst these emotions, there burned an unyielding fire of determination, an iron will that refused to be quelled.
"You must deliver that with the utmost dignity and gravity, and you shall give it to him, and him alone, mind you! Do not dare to hand it to any servant. You must insist upon meeting with him, for only he can..." she trailed off, pausing for a moment. "Go on, Mary, and by Jove's sake child, be careful. You shall not return bearing disappointment, my child - You shan’t!"
Mary nodded meekly, her thin frame shaking, wreaked with tremors. The sound of raindrops pelting against the windows echoed throughout the room, the occasional flash of lightning casting an eerie light upon those present.
*
“Well, perhaps this is your sign to stop drinking so much wine then.” Louis admonished, even as he poured tea and took away the unholy number of wine bottles left on the table. "It can not be good for you, anyway brother.”
Albert smiled at the petulant tone colouring the youngest brother’s voice. It reminded him of the time, far younger, far simpler, when they were in Eton. How he was only six and ten… whenever Albert and William used to walk together. Those envious stares turned to hatred and as soon as they landed on Louis.
The whispers were never loud, Albert made sure of that. Their gazes never stuck, not for long. Albert made sure of that too, but Louis knew. Knew that they were talking about him, about his background, about his adoption. But Louis's gaze never faltered. He stood strong in front of an adversary. Of all adversaries. Of all those who dared questioned their bond. Dared questioned them. Louis kept his strength for his brother. For William.
“They stare all right. But few dare question me, brother,” he reassured placatingly, as William looked at his youngest brother with a soft look he reserved only for the two of them, and if Albert's smile drew sharper, it was not, in fact, only a trick of the light.
Louis was right, of course. Most of them just stared, or whispered at most, amongst each other. They wouldn’t dare cross Earl Moriarty's two sons. Very few would dare. And very few did, indeed.
The last to question him was perhaps Lord Cantlebury, the heir to the Duke of Anthleore. Albert swirls his wine, as he amuses himself imagining how his body must have rotten over the years - His skin would have been long gone, only the uncharred bones in an unmarked grave now.
Alas poor Yorick…
“And who even drinks wine for breakfast?!” groaned Moran, from where he was draped unflatteringly on his right, looking at William for confirmation.
Albert took one last sip just to spite the worn out man before graciously taking the tea from Louis.
“Perhaps age truly is catching up to you Colonel,” he said mildly, “because I do seem to recall a time when you would have only poured another to keep me company.”
Louis tried his best to not roll his eyes, but the displeasure was plain on his face, receiving fond looks from all three of them.
“But surely, even you would take a little more than that to-”
William was cut off by the nervous hesitating raps of the door ringing crisply in the open space.
He was, mercifully, saved from any further admonishments as Fred came up hesitatingly, “There is someone at the servant’s gate.”
“I’ll come with,” Louis said encouragingly, leading them towards the kitchens.
Fred had joined their operations for a fair few months, and since then Louis had taken the poor kid under his ever growing motherly wings.
For a few minutes they sipped their tea and savoured the peaceful sparkle of sun against glass.
When Louis came back, his face appeared clouded over. Albert was already pushing back his chair, walking towards Louis, even before the call of his name fully left his youngest brother’s lips. Moran, who was still laying with his hand thrown over his eye, took in Louis’s cool fortifying tone to regard the matter sitting up. His hands inclined towards the revolver Albert knew the Colonel always kept close to his person. Noticing the absence of Fred, it was evidently clear that he must be keeping an eye on whoever had decided to call for them. The visitor was not to be trusted.
Albert broke the uneasy silence that had grown, “How many of the ladies are there?”
“Only one, brother.” Louis said a little uneasily, “But, how did you-” Louis started and Moran’s lips twitched into a smirk, before all tension left his form, as he again laid back laxly.
“It was quite easy, Louis…They called for our Albert here, didn’t they?” Moran waved his hand, languidly pointing at the clock, he called out with a double entendre “quite early to be a social visit, innit? Perhaps the lady was promised a ride upon our fine steed?”
He waved off both his brother's concerned look, as he saw Louis' face darken evidently, and William looked away, his cheeks discernibly flushed.
“Alternatively,” Albert smiled, “it was the lack of walking stick and hat, Louis. Moreover, the London season is almost upon us, should this truly surprise you Colonel.” He forgo mentioning the venomous look on Louis face, which could seldom be risen from his gentle brother.
Louis nodded, finding Albert’s explanation much more believable to Mr. Moran’s.
“She is in the sitting room. She refused to elaborate and insisted, I call upon you. She...” Louis paused, looking a little fraught.
“Yes?” Albert urged gently.
“She said that only you would recognize her mistress.”
Moran let out a guffaw at that. “Oh Albert…who did you leave with child ?”
William was visibly shrinking in his seat as Louis turned away, his hands curling into fists, but Albert paid the Colonel no heed.
“Why don’t you continue with tea? I will meet the lady, and send Fred back, all right?”
“Do take good care of the lady, Albert!” Moran laughed as Albert crossed the hall leading to the front waiting room.
***