Chapter Text
Their honeymoon was over. And although they were living in London for the time being, business had brought them to Augusta, where they had disembarked only a day earlier.
For the time being, the arrangements were comfortable for them: Annabel knew how to handle money (so much time spent in the company of gentlemen and their eternal talk of business had given her far more knowledge than a woman should have), and though Lenore was not a fan of high society nonsense, she knew how to keep her business associates entertained.
However, they were seriously considering putting down roots elsewhere, away from their respective families: Ira didn't suspect anything, but he tended to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted -even in marital matters- and although Lenore's parents had kept their mouths shut for the sake of their reputations, relations were strained.
One step at a time. First, business deals had to be made, then perhaps a suitable location. Annabel spoke French and they had enjoyed the trip during their honeymoon, so that was a viable alternative. Another option was to hang a map on the wall and play darts.
They would be renting for about three or four months: the house was big and had a large yard, and although it was a bit old, it was relatively isolated, which they both appreciated. The owner, a guy who looked like something out of a western town, seemed happy to take advantage of it.
Anyway, that morning Lenore was shopping at a bakery. It was those days of the month, and although Annabel hid the awkwardness quite well, she offered to bring her something she liked to spoil her.
As if she didn't know what she was going to ask her for.
Lenore had the blueberry jam and the scones. All that was left was the Earl Grey.
She walked leaning on the cane, though she could take a carriage, she preferred to walk. A reminder that she was free to do so now. She played with the bag, doing little things like that gave her an anxious happiness: it was like being in a dream. One from which Lenore feared waking to remember that Annabel had been torn from her life to marry a man while she rotted in the attic.
Lenore heard a noise that alerted her, and looking down an alleyway, she distinguished two figures: a man holding a boy by the neck, no more than 12 years old from the height and build of his silhouette. Her body moved of its own accord. And the next thing she knew, she had struck the man with the handle of her cane.
The cop's badge flew off as he hit the ground.
"Annabel's going to kill you," was all Lenore could think.
The knocking on the gate of the estate made her realize that she had fallen asleep. Lenore must be back.
No. Just a second.
She frowned and opened the door to find a boy of about ten, messy black hair, gaunt, with almost golden eyes, wearing a jacket too big for him.
"Hello, love," she greeted him politely despite her confusion, "is something the matter?"
Then he started to cry.
Annabel had no idea what to do with a crying child, so she moved a little closer and tried to soothe him.
Then she saw that he was holding the neckerchief her wife had gone out with that morning.
Lenore waited patiently in the cell at the police station.
"And it was like PUM and that stupide policier (1) fell to the ground! You're like a chevalier (2)!" Lenore had let the boy, who must have been about 12 years old, speak, "Why are you so pensive, is something wrong, monsieur?"
"I am rehearsing my exalted three-step plan to prevent my wife from murdering me when your friend brings her to get us out of here," she answered honestly.
"And what is it, can I help?"
"Talk nicely, tell her I got what she asked for from the store, and remind her that she fell in love with me because of craziness like this."
"Oh, if she likes tricks, I can show her this. Veuillez prêter attention, monsieur. (3)"
The boy took a coin out of his pocket and made it disappear with a flick of his finger, then pulled it out from behind Lenore's ear.
"Impressive," she admitted, "what's your name?"
"My name is Duke," the boy rose to bow to her, "de vous servir, monsieur."
"A pleasure, Duke. My name is Leo," she said, extending her hand. He shook it in return.
The cell door opened.
"You may go, your wife has paid your bail."
Lenore relaxed when she saw Annabel's face, for although she was doing her best to look annoyed, she could tell from her eyes that she found the situation hilarious. No, she didn't want an apology, she wanted cuddles.
And Lenore was more than willing to please.
"For leaving the house so quickly, you look really beautiful in that dress," she commented, stroking a lock of her hair. She let out a chuckle.
"You'll need more than that."
"I have scones and blueberry jam, maybe I can negotiate a little walk to go for tea in exchange for your forgiveness?"
"Mmm...I'll think about it."
Lenore watched as Pluto ran over to Duke and hugged him, now that she really looked at him, it wasn't that he was much younger -he must have been about 10- but he was short for his age.
"Excuse me, you must also return the boy's belongings to him," Annabel clarified.
"I'm afraid the bag is stolen, it will be returned to the store owner," the policeman replied.
"Oh, I'm afraid there's been a bit of a confusion here. Apparently the store owner misunderstood the situation, you may have noticed that the little guy is mixing up the languages a bit, My husband was going to pay for his groceries later. He was on his way when the incident happened and panicked," she explained matter-of-factly, "I apologized to the owner and the debt is settled," she handed over a note written by the man, "here you can confirm that I paid for it."
Suddenly, the policeman looked extremely embarrassed, more so than he already was after Lenore had given him a black eye.
"Elle a la langue argentée d'un barde, (4)" Duke whispered. Annabel let out a chuckle.
"My apologies for the confusion. And your eye," Lenore interjected, "we'll take our things and be on our way."
Outside, Annabel raised an eyebrow and looked at the three of them.
"I leave you alone for a moment and you end up at the police station, what am I supposed to do with you, pet?"
"I regret to inform you that you are stuck with me. For the rest of our lives," she replied, showing her rings. Annabel just laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Thank you, madame," Duke bowed to her.
"You're welcome, little one. But don't ever do anything like that again, you came out beaten and scared your friend."
"Ce n'est pas un problème si vous ne faites pas prendre, (5)" he complained.
"Ne vous faites pas prendre (6)," Annabel replied. He snorted and said goodbye, leaving the other child behind.
"Are you going to celebrate Morella's birthday with us?"
"No, I... I have to go with my father," they heard her say. Lenore could feel Annabel clinging to her.
"So, did I hear we were going shopping?"
"Unless you'd rather I buy you breakfast."
"I'd rather go home and take a bath," her eyes seemed to say, and would appreciate the company.
Lenore positioned her arm for her to take.
"Come on then."
The two stopped when they heard voices from inside the compound, but tension gave way to confusion when they recognized one of them. As they approached, the voice became clearer.
"Is it all right for us to be here? Sir Montressor said it was to be rented," commented a slightly nervous little voice.
"I wonder who would come to live in a place like this?" replied another girlish voice, but this one sounded a little more sly.
"As long as they don't find us, it's okay!" declared another little girl.
"Duke," a boy's voice said, "are you going to tell us how you got all this?"
"Ah, yes. So..."
Duke turned to find the two adults looking at the group of children, extremely confused.
"Oh, c'est le chevalier et le barde! (7)" he shouted and ran up to them.
Six children were sitting in the courtyard.