audrey (larcener) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-08-14 11:24:00 |
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Miles was perched on the edge of the chaise longue in the upstairs parlour, shirt lying crumpled beside him. There was a perfect drop of crimson on the pristine white fabric, having seeped through—and which led to Audrey’s wide eyes, cleared throat, and some emphatic gesturing towards the doorway before the married couple excused themselves. The man now leaned forward with a hiss of indrawn breath, notches of his ribs and spine visible, bared to view. Having a gunshot to the midriff and back was inconvenient, he’d discovered, not being able to reapply the dressing himself; running around in the city hadn’t helped either, ripping open the already ragged exit wound. But Miles was the opposite of a cooperative patient, wriggling and writhing and hissing as Audrey tended to the injury (with a none-too-delicate touch. it had to be said). “Nursing is not the career for you,” he proclaimed bitterly, head bowed as he stared at his feet, stubbornly trying not to think about each flare of pain as her fingertips worked on unwinding the old bandages and reaching for the antiseptic. Faram, but he hated gunshot wounds. Every time he complained, her hand got a bit more violent. “Shut up,” she growled at him. Unnecessarily dousing a clean cloth with the antiseptic she pressed it roughly against his wound, hoping for a cry. It came with a stifled yelp and a shudder. “Besides, you brought this onto yourself. Who has been telling you these heists are getting too dangerous, even for us? Do you want to get sent to the gallows?” “With great risk comes great reward, my dear,” Miles spat. His fingers were digging deep into the edge of the chaise. Against all of his efforts (he was no fighter trained against pain), a low whimper escaped from the back of his throat. He wished he could have reeled it back, but it was out there now. “We’re not going to pull any worthwhile gil unless we—fuck!” He spun to glare at Audrey over his shoulder, hazel eyes narrowed as she took a particularly strong jab. “—unless we put our arses on the line.” “Three out of six of us got shot. Half our fucking crew got shot. Luckily, nowhere vital,” she used this as a cue to wipe the rag, albeit roughly, across the gunshot wound. “We should quit while we’re ahead, Miles. You’ll jeopardize my marriage.” As soon as the wound was clean, she knelt down and began to wrap it with absorbent cotton. “You’re really scrawny,” the blonde spoke absentmindedly. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated a man this scrawny. Not that we’re dating,” she shuddered. “And I tend to go for taller blondes, but beggars can’t be choosers, can we?” Audrey gasped, her hand palming hard into his chest. “You little shit, Ash is shorter than me.” “I did say tend.” The muscles in his back tensed and rippled beneath her hand, and he grumbled out another curse as the cotton tightened around him. “And tell me, how in Faram’s name do we quit while we’re ahead? There’s no quitting this sort of thing, Audrey. It’s my job.” And his passion, but that went without saying—one of the few things that set his heart to pounding and immediately lit that fire in his eyes, that obsessive glint in his gaze. She frowned falling silent against his words. Her hands got softer, taking care when wrapping the actual bandage over the cotton and making sure not to tie it too tight. “You have all the money you could ever need. You could just stay—” she shook her head. “I just don’t understand.” Before he could berate her with her own sentimental words, she changed the subject. “At least you’re not pudgy like Rhys. Ever since you made him take the role of Gerard I’ve wanted nothing but to bash his face in.” “He’s an insufferable shit as the fake brother, isn’t he,” Miles said musingly. But then his thoughts fell back towards the other subject, sucked into it like a whirlpool: “And besides, it’s not a question of need,” his voice was rising now in irritation, “but my fucking specialty! Pardon me if I can’t sit on my arse like you pampered nobl—” “Miles, I’m trying to—” The door hadn’t been shut quite properly. It was cracked open, just enough to come swinging open at the arrival of a very large dog -- and a very confused, out of breath girl. In Juliette’s defense, she had never meant to eavesdrop. Had, in fact, had no intention of entering her sister’s suite of rooms at all (one never knew when her brother in law might be in, and Juliette preferred to simply keep herself out of his way), but she had spotted Boris pawing at the first open door leading down the hall to the rooms shared by Alys and Lord Norwood, and from there they had had a not-so-merry chase. What Lord Norwood would say if Boris actually got into his bedroom was not something Juliette ever, under any circumstances, wanted to hear. Now, however… She had managed to catch Boris by the collar right at the door, and the shouting from within had been hard to ignore (no doubt, too, that the arguing couple had not heard the clatter over their own raised voices). She had the dog well in hand, but her eyes were wide as she looked over the frankly unexpected tableau, attempting to understand exactly what it was that she had walked in on. Who was Miles, exactly? And since when had her sister’s fussy, quiet husband used such language? Why was he shot? And… “I…” she trailed off, knuckles white as she gripped the dog’s collar. “I’m sorry to interrupt. The dog…” Audrey had almost jumped at the voice, standing up and spinning on her heels to look at the younger Coulombe. “How long have you been standing out there?” “I had to catch him,” Juliette said lamely. The answer, in fact, was a while; she really hadn’t understood what she was listening to, and Boris had been claiming the majority of her attention, but… “Is… everything… quite all right?” Demonstrably, it was not. But she really didn’t know what else to say. Miles had lunged for his shirt (why in the hells hadn’t they gotten a clean one ready, Faram, fuck) and hurriedly covered himself with it, but the damage was already done, and the shirt was stained besides. His mind spun. How much had the girl heard? Too much, evidently. The urge to simply turn and crash through the window and escape into the night was strong—it was his usual way of dealing with problems, after all—but that wouldn’t do here. “Everything is fine,” he said in a clipped tone, Basil’s enunciation slipping back over his voice like a veil. “I had an accident the other night, with some ruffians. Nothing to worry yourself over, Juliette.” (But that damage was already done.) Audrey had looked at Miles wide eyed, nodding along with him. “Yes, yes. Ruffians,” she agreed with him, unsure if she was making this worse or not. “We took care of it,” because realistically, between Audrey and Basil, Audrey was the strong one. Though Juliette would know the subtleties of not embarrassing the male sex. “Lord Norwood was very brave.” She ought to let it go, certainly. But confusion made it difficult to hold her tongue, so Juliette found herself saying, “But you did not mention at dinner.” A pause. “You were… working?” Wasn’t that what the fight had been about, before she’d barged in with the dog? Working and then… ruffians? “And who is Miles?” The man’s blood was starting to run cold in his veins. Too many details had slipped out. This was starting to look like the point in a con where Miles packed up his bags and fled for the damned hills, to start anew elsewhere. (Or eliminate the person who’d seen too much, but: also not an option.) His gaze slid over to Audrey, meeting her eye, an unspoken question passing between them. As soon as he had looked for a lifeline, Audrey began to vomit words. “Lord Basil’s middle name. He isn’t fond of it, so,” she looked back at Miles, clearly unprepared for this. “I use it out of spite when I’m angry.” It felt weird explaining herself to her younger sister—almost unnatural the way she did it. “Just one of those little intimacies between a married couple, you know how it goes,” Miles said in an oily voice, all noxious slime. There was no flutter of indecision or anxiety in it; he’d caught Audrey’s lead and ran with it. Perhaps they could still talk themselves out of this mess. “Ah,” Juliette said. And she might have left this alone at this point (it was becoming almost unbearably uncomfortable, and she was intruding), but as she slowly worked through the may incomprehensible things she had heard, one snagged and caught and replayed in her mind over and over. “Did you say…. your friend Rhys is… pretending to be Gerard Norwood?” she asked slowly. Surely that she had to have misunderstood… (Only, now that she thought of it, they did rather dance in almost exactly the same way -- and their smiles were actually not that dissimilar, even if their overall actions certainly were.) To their credit, the responses came quickly, with no visible hemming or hawing or searching for the right words. To their discredit, the responses came at the exact same time: “Mister Kinlan was kind enough to fill a gap for the ceremony, as I don’t have a b—” “Absolutely not. Mr. Kinlan and Lord Gerard are completely different pe—” With wide eyes, the couple slowly turned and stared at their discrepancies. Juliette stared too, but then her brow knitted together. There was a lot she could (and would) simply ignore, but -- “Which is it? That doesn’t make sense.” She had never been on particularly good terms with Lord Norwood, so she looked instead to her sister. “Alys?” Explain this so that I don’t have to worry about you, her tone clearly said. Because what was all of this? And what sort of dangerous work did Lord Norwood -- supposedly simply an investor like every average nobleman out there -- do, and why was Alys involved in it? What did Alys’ strange friend Rhys have to do with it, for that matter? The more she considered it, the more worried she became. There was no turning back now but to stick to her first words. “They’re different people. We just had Mister Kinlan fill in for Lord Gerard as Lord Gerard couldn’t actually make it. It would’ve been embarrassing otherwise. You know how things are with these ceremonies. If it isn’t one thing, they’ll pick at you for another.” “So… you do have a brother?” Juliette asked, the crease between her eyebrows not disappearing. Hadn’t Lord Norwood just said… “Why didn’t he come after the wedding, then? Surely his business would not detain him so long.” It had been months. No, something definitely wasn’t right here. “My brother and I, we don’t get along.” (And isn’t that the truth, in a sense?) Miles was normally so quick on his feet and tongue, like a cat readjusting in midair, but he could now feel the situation plummeting past them. A noose tightening around his neck. “And he’s… very busy. He’s the elder, you know, so there’s so much to take care of back at the vineyard.” He was adjusting, paws angling towards the floor, trying desperately to catch himself as they fell. It wasn’t really working. "Yes." Audrey took his lead nodding. "Could you imagine if the rest found out? They wouldn't let us live it down. It was simply better this way. I promise you're not missing much by not meeting him." “Oh.” A pause. A polite girl would not keep pushing. But naive as Juliette was, she knew something didn’t make sense in this very convoluted tale, and she was worried and perhaps increasingly more than a little hurt to realize she was being fed a tale). “But I am fairly certain I saw him at that salon last week. Or… was that actually Rhys I saw? Why would he continue pretending to be your brother with whom you are on poor terms? Why not simply say you have no brother, or that you are estranged, or introduce him as your friend instead so that he can be himself, or --” She cut off, her mind swimming with possibilities. The more they talked, the surer she became. She didn’t want to say it, really didn’t, but… “Alys… why won’t you tell me the truth? None of this makes any sense.” Audrey’s mouth opened, gasping for a lifeline, but there was nothing left. There were no more lies she could feed those naive little ears. The blonde’s eyes flickered down, resigning to the shame of a child being caught. There wasn’t much more she could do to aid the situation. Speaking would only damage it more. Would telling her the truth even mend it? Her conscience would be clear of guilt, but her relationship completely in shambles. “He’s not real. It was a lie. I did it so we could rebuild my father’s estate." “Who’s not real?” Making up a brother for Lord Norwood in order to reclaim the estate made absolutely no sense at all. The only person Alys could be referencing was… Basil’s face was in his hands. She looked at her sister’s husband (who seemed none too pleased to be here) and said, somewhat stupidly, “He can’t not be real. He’s right here. How is he not real?” “Welllll, that’s not what I intended to happen at all,” the man mumbled into his palm. His mind seemed to have stuttered to a halt. Perhaps it had only been a matter of time, however—Genevieve was in on it, and it would be best to have everyone under the same roof operating on the same page. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to get out. They’d gotten sloppy. “I can see,” Miles said carefully, now re-buttoning his bloodstained shirt and rising to his feet, “that you two have a bit to discuss.” Passing the older girl, his hand rested briefly on Audrey’s shoulder, giving a light pressure (a gesture of support?) before he disappeared through the door and back to his own rooms. Juliette watched him go, still mostly bewildered but feeling the first stirrings of anger now as she realized she had not misunderstood. It was a lie. The door closed behind him, and she turned back to Alys. “Why?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? I even asked you -- I was so worried about you --” Her concerns at the time of Alys’ sudden engagement now seemed so foolish. Had her sister been laughing at her naivete all the while? Audrey frowned watching her support fade as he entered the next room, leaving her alone to deal with the situation at hand. This had been her idea to begin with, it was hers to clean up entirely. “What would you think of me? Would you even go with this? I did this for us. We couldn’t live on the Countess’ generosity for long. Even you must have felt the pressure to leave.” The blonde paused, her lower lip worming in between her teeth. “I didn’t wish to hurt you.” “I would have tried to understand,” Juliette said. How much had she let go of, reminding herself that Alys was in some ways from another world entirely. “I would have wanted to support you. Am I really so --” unreliable. “That’s not it, Juliette. You know that’s not it,” Audrey tried to comfort her. Juliette clenched her teeth, tried not to cry. You’re already hurting me by showing you don’t trust me at all. She couldn’t quite say it. “So who is he, actually?” she asked. Then, “Did everyone know? Everyone except me?” “He’s an old friend of mine from the bard’s guild,” she left it at that, rubbing the back of her neck. The next question was more difficult to answer so she choked back biting at her lip again. “Define ‘everyone’.” And that was already answer enough, wasn't it? People had been told, so there went the idea of family solidarity. Not that Juliette was very good at being part of a family, but at least she had been honestly trying. "I don't know anything anymore," Juliette replied after a long pause. Her hands were still clenched into fists; she didn't notice. Then, "Are there other things, too, that you decided not to tell me? How did he really get injured? What else don't I know?" Because she had simply explained away a lot of strange things over the months, but clearly that had been foolish of her. Her distress made her brave enough to ask. For this, Audrey had to take a seat. She chewed her words, tried to find the best and softest way to deliver her message. Without a doubt the ninja had to come clean to her younger sister. There would be no rectifying the situation if she continued to lie. “I never lost my memory. Our parents were murdered,” she delivered the message as stoic as she could. “You never --” but Alys was still talking. “I woke up, and I would have been next had it not been for our eldest brother who got in the way. Had it not been for him, maybe I would have died and you would have had no one. Something must have clicked in that man,” she shrugged, “Pity, I don’t know?” She shifted in her seat. “He let me live and I ran as far away as I could until I passed out. When I woke up an orphan, a prostitute in the Sapphire House had taken me in and given me a name change. It was a couple of weeks later that I found out through word of mouth that you were the only known sole survivor of our ‘family tragedy’. So,” she paused, “while I denied and tried to burn away my identity, those who were keen enough to know about me would tell me about your well-being, Genevieve included. I couldn’t go get you. Surely the Demiels wouldn’t had let an underage girl take custody over a babe, not one who had made her home in a whore house. If anyone knew, could you imagine what they would’ve said? All the hard work that our father and grandfather had done would have been lost. Besides, I was no longer Alys.” She closed her eyes, frowning. “Alys had died that night.” “When Leila was murdered, I only had you left. You were the last thing on this earth that kept me connected to my parents. Lord Laurent and the Countess had told me about the affairs of the Demiels and while I had been absent most of your life, I wanted to try and make it a little more bearable. So I lied. I did all of this so I could get you from them, so I could get our inheritance, so I could build this estate and so I could find the person that murdered our family. That’s the truth.” Dazed, Juliette stood and tried to understand. She tried. But -- “You knew?”” her voice shook, the floodgates open now, reason rushing out as rage rolled in. “You knew all along -- the countess knew -- everyone knew -- but you just left me there?” Her hands were clasped so tightly that her nails had drawn blood from her palms, but she didn’t feel it. She was shaking. “All that time -- all that time -- you just left me there? Do you know how horrible it was?” Her voice had risen steadily in both pitch and volume -- for the first time in years, Juliette Coulombe was shouting, and she didn’t care. “I would rather have been raised in a brothel! I would rather have been raised on the street! I would rather have burned down with the house!” With each statement, her voice got more shrill. “Every day that horrible woman told me --” She cut off, failing now to blink back tears. “Never mind,” her voice was bitter, “why would you care what she told me!? What does it matter how she made me feel!? You came back when you had nowhere else to go and it was convenient and you lied to me about everything and I believed you and I tried but maybe --” She swallowed, the realization coming over her like a wave (whether it was rational didn’t matter; it made more sense than everything else that had happened) -- “Was this about the inheritance? The money? They were going to marry me off and it would be gone!? I never wanted it! I never wanted any of it! I didn’t even want revenge! I just wanted someone to care about me!” Now that she had started, it was like she couldn’t stop; the words just kept pouring out. “I can’t believe you!” “I thought we were doing better. I thought we could talk to each other. I thought -- but it was all a lie. None of it was real. I don’t even know you.” If Alys tried to interject through the tirade, it did not get to her through the haze of anger and tears; the urge to punch something was so intense that she settled for the wall. She was stronger than she thought, or maybe anger lent her strength -- it left a dent in the plaster and scrapes along her knuckles. Before she could make a worse decision and punch the source of her ire, she clenched her fists again, and her jaw, and announced, “You can have it. You can have everything. I don’t care. I don’t want to be here. And I’m leaving right now.” Boris, who had been remarkably quiet during this tirade (perhaps too many such tirades had been heard by the hound in the past as Lady Demiel railed at the hired help) barely managed to get his tail out of imminent danger before she slammed the door behind her, hard enough to shake the wall. It was probably fortunate that Lord Norwood -- or Miles -- or whatever his name actually was -- was not in her path as she stormed down the hallway. The sound of the door slam was enough to make her drop from her spot on the lounge to the floor. Pulling her knees up to her stomach, she wrapped her arms around them. Boris seemed to have noticed as he padded over to Audrey. Sitting and then lying down, he shoved his snout in between the crevice of her thighs and her stomach as if offering his condolences. Audrey had only glanced down at him, before taking the dog into a tight embrace and crying into his fur. She was alone again. |