William thought about Captain Bernadotte's words for a long time. Finally, she wrote: "Why didn't Master just tell me? I would have understood."
Captain Bernadotte didn't have a good answer. Part of him wanted to be brutally honest and say that her master was a selfish, cold-hearted bastard that really thought everything existed to serve him. That he meant every word he said about animals existing just to serve humans, and that they deserve to die when they can no longer do it. Like all the nobles in England, the Count seemed to believe everything sprang into existence the moment he looked at it, existed in that moment to give him convenience, entertainment, or pleasure, then promptly ceased to exist the moment he looked away; until the next time he looked at it or needed it again. This applied to everything, from objects, to animals, to people.
The only exceptions were those few women he deemed worthy of pursuit.
Even then, Pip thought scornfully, the Count had given up on that Lucy Westenra and Mina Harker right quick.
Captain Bernadotte suspected that the same thrill he got in pursuing a lover's heart was the same thrill he got in the hunt.
But, he could not say it out loud for a number of reasons. The biggest being that William was still distraught over the death of her horse, and far be it from him to say horrible things about her master to make her feel worse. Also, it just wasn't professional. Cold-hearted bastard though he was, the Count had taken Captain Bernadotte and his men on after their ship sank. He paid them rather handsomely and was a good master, all things considered. Besides which, Pip felt certain that if he said anything rude about his boss, he would somehow find out.
Tenatively, Pip said, "... People say things they don't mean when they're mad, stressed or scared." He took her hand in his. "You really put the fear of God in us with that fall. We were sure we had lost you."
His intensity touched William profoundly. Unfortunately for him, his passion only served to convince her all the more of how strongly her master felt about her.
To her, it seemed to make more sense. Her horse had broken no less than two legs, and there was no way he would fully recover. They could either leave him writhing in agony until infection, pain, stress, fear, or cold killed him, or quickly put him out of his misery with a single bullet. (Captain Bernadotte said the bullet entered his brain so quickly he wouldn't feel a thing; he died before he could feel a thing.) At least there was comfort in that.
What's more, they had to move quickly before nightfall. Her master had wanted to put the whole affair behind them, but he had been so stressed and scared for her safety that he could not properly express it. No doubt he had been in agony of anxiety, and felt agitated because of how close he had come to losing her; perhaps he had already believed she was dead and felt horribly grieved and enraged over his. She thought he must have been quite distraught over her to feel so agitated.
William felt much better about the whole thing. It was like a weight was lifted from her soul. She was still deeply saddened by the loss of her Old Grey, but she did not feel quite crushed with guilt or regret. What's more, she now understood why he needed to be shot; it was a mercy kill to put him out of his misery, not cold-blooded murder because caring for his injury was too inconvenient.
She looked up at Capain Bernadotte and tried to smile. Her eyes were no longer hardened with heavy sorrow. However, the easing of her sorrow melted her resolve like fire melting ice, and leaked fresh tears from her eyes. She finally closed them and let the tears flow.
"Oh, William..." Pip whispered soothingly, and he cupped the back of her head and pulled her forward so she could cry into his chest.
Not too long after, the Count received a letter from home that left him extatic. The moment he finished reading it, his entire countenance changed. He went from bitter and agitated to giddy with excitement.
"You two, get ready to leave at once."
William pulled her head up to look at him curiously. Her eyes were still raw and wet with tears.
"Sir?" Pip said.
"Get dressed and get ready. We are leaving at once."
"Now? Sir..." Captain Bernadotte stood and tried to reason with him. "Can't this wait a while? She has only just recovered..."
"Are you fit to travel, my dear?" the Count asked William.
She nodded immediately. Sad as she was, she felt her pride piqued whenever people said she was "unfit to travel." As the Count himself often said, "travel" usually involved sitting in a carriage. She felt she could handle that.
"Then get her ready and be in the carriage in half an hour," he grinned widely. "She is waiting for us."
A sense of sad understanding fell over Pip's face, and he said no more. He helped William stand and ordered one of the lodge women to help her dress for travel while he arranged to get their luggage packed and loaded into the carriage. William looked between the two men in confusion. Who was "she"? What was going on?
The carriage ride was tense and unhappy. The Count was in such a hurry that he ordered the coachman to force the horses into a rapid gallop. He sat opposite of William, with a giddy and eager smile. He barely looked at or addressed her. The captain sat beside her, looking full of unease and discomfort. She felt a horrible sense of doom. What was going on that made her love so extatic while her captain was so uneasy? Why did they have to go so quickly? Who was "she"? What was going on?
Since he wanted the horses to gallop so fast, they often had to stop and switch carriages since they wore the last ones out. Horses can only gallop so fast for so long, just like humans. William wished her master understood that, but he was indifferent to anything but his own desires. And right now, he desired to reach their destination.
From the captain, all she could gather was that they were traveling to London.
The Season had started and they were going to beat them to it by going to stay in the Count's London "town house." William grew to understand, at last, that most of the wealthy had two homes. Rural country estates where they lived, and most often got their money, and small urban "town houses" where they enjoyed the "social season" in large cities like London. The social season being the cold seasons; traditionally so they would not have to bear the city's stenches during the hot weather.
In recent years, Parliament passed new sanitation laws that helped clean the city and decease the rubbish and sewage that plagued it, thanks to overpopulation. They had also improved conditions for the overpopulated slums, thanks in part to the systematic problems that allowed for the antics and escape of Jack the Ripper.** Still, the city was by an large still polluted and rank, especially compared to those who lived out in the country.
Count Ramos especially lived in as deep a solitude as one could enjoy in England. He lived in a long-abandoned but recently-fixed up castle by the sea, which stood rather far from the nearest village. Vast fields and woods stood between his courtyard and the nearest human settlement, which was exactly how he liked it. William rather liked it too, if because it was so beautiful and charming, though she would have liked to see more people. Their one visit into town had wet her apetite for more.
William had often heard people talk about London, which she understood to be the most important city in England the same way the Sea King's palace was the most important city for merfolk in the sea.
Normally she would be very curious to see it; but now she just wanted to go home. After the emotional turmoil they all suffered, she just wanted to go back to their charming castle, with her warm comfortable bed, her spacious room, the familiar servants whose faces and voices she knew so well, the beautiful gardens and grounds, and the spray of the sea. She longed for the familarity and comfort of a place she grew to think of as "home" as much as she did the natural splendor.
"You feeling all right, ma cher?" the captain asked.
She nodded.
"Since when has she been your cher, Captain?" the Count asked with some annoyance.
"I meant no offense, sir," he said, "It's just a habit."
"Then le
t it be a habit you can unlearn," the Count said with finality.
The Captain sighed. "Mais oui."
William would not learn for a long time yet that 'ma cher' was a French term of endearment that, in English, pretty much means "my dear." The Count, naturally, did not like hearing another man call his little founding his dear. William did not understand at the time though. She thought 'ma cher' meant "little idiot," and was glad the Count told him to stop.
She sighed and looked out the window, saddened by the dismal clouds.
William often felt insulted when people asked if she was "fit to travel." Now she really didn't feel up to it. The carriage rattled, and she felt cramped and distressed in the dark, shaking box. Is this how horses felt when they couldn't stand or run? She was also uncomfortable on the firm, upright seat. She shifted uncomfortably for quite a while, then remembered she had a spranged ankle and an injured wrist when she couldn't find a comfortable place to settle them.
The Count had scorned people being "unfit for travel" since it involved "sitting in a carriage," but now William was starting to understand it was more than that. Travel boxes, from the smallest carts to the costliest carriages, were cramped, uncomfortable, and in some ways draining. There's just something about laying down in a still, plush couch or bed that cannot be duplicated laying down in a moving carriage seat. Not the least of which because she had to share her seat with the captain while her master got to have a seat all to himself!
And her master's odd behavior didn't help her peace of mind!
Captain Bernadotte had watched her shift and fidget around with some pity. When he saw her wince over her wrist and ankle, he immediately took off his coat and rolled it into a pillow for her to rest her head on, then took his leather duster, which he had taken off on entering the carriage anyway, and draped it over her like a blanket.
"Here," he said not unkindly, "rest your head on this... no, lay down like so, and prop your legs over my lap. It's best you keep your legs elevated. Your ankle will hurt less if you keep it raised. It'll heal faster too."
Only on Captain Bernadotte's insisting did William lay down on the seat, with her head propped on his rolled up coat and her legs draped over his lap. He smoothed her skirts and his own coat over them to protect her modesty, and only allowed himself one smile of affection as her eyes closed and her face relaxed for sleep.
His coats smelled much like him; of dust, musk, horses, and tobacco. Heavenly scents to a mermaid that loved the land. It helped lull her into the deepest and calmest sleep she had known in days (until they had to switch carriages, of course).
The Count watched them with a scornful eye, but said nothing.
After what felt like days of traveling, through pleasant lanes and country roads, they came into the great London thoroughfare, on which they traveled steadily, till in the twilight they reached the great city. The gas lamps were already lighted. Out of the carriage window, William saw there were streets to the right, and streets to the left, and streets crossing each other, for mile upon mile. William thought they would never come to the end of them.
Perhaps it was her depressed state of mind, but the city seemed to be gloomy, smoggy, and rank. Tall buildings of stone and brick surrounded every street. While they were beautifully carved and crafted, to her they seemed menacing and imposing. So many tall buildings crammed together and looming over the edge of every street, like high cliffs over thin rivers.
The air was unbearable. As they drove further into the city, William found she could not stand the air they breathed. It was thick, gritty, and sooty. The captain had called London "The City of Fog," but the emmisions from factories and general pollution made William think of it as "The City of Smog." William immediately started to cough as they drove in the winding streets.
They drove through street after street, turn after turn, by block of buildings after block of buildings.
They finally came to rest before a great stone house, and Captain Bernadotte again held William' hand as she descended from the carriage. The great town house looked as dark and Gothic as her master's castle by the sea, and the man himself. But now, in this dark city and her dark frame of mind, this was not a good thing.
Almost as soon as they got inside, her master impatiently barked orders at the servants to get the place ready for habitation. The servants, for their part, where frantic to remove the last of the white cloths draped over the tables and furniture (to protect it from dust while it waits for the nobility to use it again, Captain Bernadotte would explain later), to clear away the worst of the dust, to fling open all the doors and windows to let fresh air in. They had to explain how his sudden arrival meant they could not get proper food for the larder, gas for the lamps or fireplaces for a while yet, or even hire more hands until the next day.
While her master berated them, a single maid came over to help William get her bearings. She would have prefered the servants back home that she had grown so fond of, but the girl was very kind and friendly. After helping William get to her room (which was still very dusty), change into her sleeping clothes, and lay down in her bed, exhaustion overcame her and she fell alseep.
The next morning, the ruckus from below roused William from an uneasy sleep. Back at the castle, sunlight and the sound of singing birds always drew her from a pleasant sleep. Now, as she looked out the window, she saw that no sunlight or happy chirps poured in from the window. Dismal grey from the overcast clouds, thick smog that made her cough, and noise like she never heard were her morning's greetings.
William looked down at the street and was surprised by how crowded it was. So many horses, carts, carriages, and people running, pushing, shoving, hustling, walking, and yelling so close together along every street. Like a colony of ants all running every which way after the ant hill is disturbed.
The servants were still hustling to make the house suitable for nobles living in it, and her master was hurrying them. The day seemed to pass in a rushed blur, with her master constantly urging the servants to move and work faster. As the day wore on, he seemed more giddy and excited.
By late afternoon, he announced that they were going out in the evening, and that William and Captain Bernadotte were to wear their best clothes. William and Pip both looked at him uneasily.
Later that evening, a more finely decorated carriage than William had ever seen pulled up and drove them to a beautiful "town house" belonging to the noble they were to visit. Lights poured from every window, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of orchestraic music. Servants in deep colors and glittering hems lined the doorways, antechambers, and hallways through which they passed. Through a great oak door the prettiest light and gayest music emerged.
Once they entered, William' eyes were assailed with the most brilliant display of glittering jewels and fine titles than she had ever seen. Within the room, a ball was taking place, with the most marvelous entertainments followed one after another.
William was amazed. She had never seen so many humans in such deep colors, glistening silks, glittering hems. From the clothing alone, she had never seen so much silk, ribbons, or bows in all her life. The women's loose curled and upturned hair and fancy hats alone were almost as tall as the men that towered over them. The sparkle of the women's jewelry was only topped by the huge crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
Those that were not dancing the ballroom dances that Walter taught her were standing around in idle amusement, with delicate glass drinks in their hands; laughing, chatting, and tittering all the while.
Many eyes stopped and turned toward them. Those that recognized who they were went quiet. No doubt they looked rather remarkable. Her master as tall and gloriously handsome as he ever was; with his long wavy black hair, his impeccable black suit, his overcoat slung around his shoulders like a regal cape, and his intricately knotted black cravat. Captain Bernadotte cleaned up nicely too, with his less fancy but non-the-less impressive looking white suit. William herself was dressed in the yellow sati
n ballroom dress her master had bought for this occasion.
She stared with wide eyes, amazed at what she saw.
A fat man with food stains on his expensive suit came to greet her master warmly. She was to understand later he was the host of the party.
"Ah! Count Ramos!" he said with great warmth and cheer, "Such a pleasure to have you join us this evening!"
"Believe me, good sir: the pleasure is all mine," he replied in his lovely baritone.
After all the perfunctory greetings, introductions, and pleasantries were out of the way, the Count asked, "Is she here?"
"Is she? She who...?"
His wife had to whisper something in his ear.
"Oh, no, I'm afraid not. Lady Richard has not yet appeared."
"People say she's being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she's learning every noble virtue," said the host's wife.
"And has grown into a charming young lady, too!" interjected another.
"Her education is finally complete, and her father has brought her to London for the Season," said another.
"She shall be entering society for the first time!" said another.
"Oui, into the marriage market," Pip whispered in William' ear.
She looked at him in confusion. He later explained that fancy debutante balls like this were meant to show off beautiful, accomplished, high-born ladies into public places, so they could attract an equally rich, high-born husband.
At last she came. Then William Hanna, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful and gracious, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty or poise. Her skin was a rich earthen hue, her hair was as gold as the sun, and beneath her long eye-lashes her intelligent blue eyes shone with truth and purity. She stood tall and calm, with a quiet confidence that is rare in this world.
And she was the very church girl that had found the Count on the beach!
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