Who: Chiara di Palermo, Cassius Corbet (Lord Ravensworth) What: Enough is enough. Let's have this out. When: After dark, October 3rd, 1888 Where: Neutral ground is safest, but since when has Chiara cared about her own safety? So, Where: Lord Corbet's London house. Rating: Potentially high. Warnings: Potential for language and violence.
Enough was enough.
Chiara had been sitting on this little issue for far longer than she was willing to stand. Her injuries from her last little ill-advised foray into impulsivity had taken some time to heal, and that was the biggest (in truth, the only) reason that she had not acted before now. Cassius Corbet, because of course she was aware of his name, for all she pretended that he was too far beneath her to remember it, needed to be spoken to.
The question was how to approach the matter in order to suffer the least indignity. Keira was hers, that was flat and plain. She intended to make this much at least clear to Lord Sherbet. She was loathe to reveal the existence of La Sorellanza, so was determined not to mention it unless it became absolutely necessary. With men like Sherbet, a little information could cause much bigger problems. He was a bully, a nicely dressed thug, as far as Chiara was concerned, and she had no doubt that once he knew about her organization he would make life difficult for her.
He was no Gabriel.
To this end, she showed up on his doorstep after sundown on a Tuesday evening. Bring the fight to him, so to speak. Oh, she would be polite as society and propriety dictated... but she would not give up anything she didn't have to. Chiara was no novice at negotiations.
For a woman to call upon a man in his home was gossip worthy of a scandal, and Cassius was engaged to another. Supernaturals tended to play fast and loose with human rules of etiquette and decorum, but the card presented to Cassius by his attendant footman was enough to raise his eyebrows.
"Show her in," Cassius instructed, and moved into the parlor to meet his visitor. A chaperone would be best, but Cassius would not call in one of the maids, and if the lady had not brought one of her own, it could not be helped.
Chiara di Palermo styled herself 'Lady', but if she had land or a title in Britain, it was not common knowledge. She hung around the House of Shadows, but never with any group or to any seeming purpose besides collecting gossip. What she did with that knowledge, Cassius didn't know. He had never made a point to find out. Only now did he consider that might have been an error in judgement.
"Lady di Palermo," Cassius greeted his unexpected guest as she was shown into the parlor. "To what do I owe the honor? Please, take a seat. Would you care for tea?"
Chiara allowed herself to be seated, and she politely waved the tea away. She was not especially interested in niceties. Niceties were for people she enjoyed. She barely knew this man, but she knew already she did not, would not, could not enjoy him.
“I have come tonight to discuss the matter of a misunderstanding,” she said bluntly. “It has come to my attention that you have had dealings with someone, someone with whom I am intimately acquainted. I have come to you to ask that you cease and desist any further dealings with this person.”
He would either acquiesce to her request, or he would push back. Chiara knew the former was little more than imagination, and she was fine with that. The reality was, she was rather itching for the fight that his push-back would give her permission to start.
The corners of Cassius' mouth quirked upward in amusement. He suspected he knew who she meant, considering Mrs Adams' cryptic promise that his questions would soon be answered, and that Mrs Adams was the source of the most obvious 'misunderstanding' of late, but he hadn't been appointed earl by giving away information rather than gathering it.
"I'm afraid you'll need to be more specific, if you want me to entertain such a request." Cassius paused, before prompting, "A name, for instance, might be useful. Lacking that, perhaps a description?" He didn't bother to hide his amusement by the end--it was a dramatic request even without di Palermo's attempts to conceal her 'intimate acquaintance's' identity.
“Keira Adams,” Chiara said.
Oh, he knew. And she could see in his face the delight he was taking in making her be the one to say it. Still, she would allow him this one small victory. Others would not be so easy to come by.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Perhaps you will do me the courtesy of dropping the pretence. You knew from the moment I started speaking to whom I was referring. I knew from the moment you started speaking that you knew. I am not intellectually backward in the slightest, so I would appreciate not being treated as such. I came here simply to tell you that Keira is an acquaintance of mine, and therefore it would be appropriate for you to cease dealing with her.”
"Cards on the table then?" Cassius replied, making himself comfortable in a wingback chair--or as comfortable as anyone ever got in one. There was a reason they had been replaced by upholstery a century ago, and why this one in particular had been banished to the rarely-used parlor of the London house.
"I was asked by Mrs Adams to be patient, that all of my questions would be answered and all of her secrets revealed." Cassius made a graceful, sweeping gesture toward di Palermo with one hand. "As someone intellectually forward, I imagine you already know to what I refer. Since you have arrived here to ask a favour of me, I presume you are the source of those answers and secrets."
Cassius rested his elbow on an arm of the chair and propped his chin on his hand, a portrait of aristocratic ease. "With the additional question, now, of why it would be inappropriate for me to deal with any acquaintances of yours. We have quite a few in common, I believe, and you and I have no dealings at all worth mentioning."
The merest murmur of a growl rose in the back of her throat but Chiara bit it back. Not yet. Instead, she let her fangs descend, slowly and gracefully. It was not intended to be a threat, but rather an indication of what she was.
“Why would it be inappropriate for you to deal with any acquaintances of mine?” she asked, flicking her tongue around one fang. “Because they are my acquaintances, and given what you are, and what I am, I should consider it a professional courtesy for us to give each other - and that which belongs to each of us - a wide berth.”
Ah. Mrs Adams already had a vampire protector, or belonged to a coven's estate...perhaps not in a traditional sense, the way Ravensworth operated, but vampiric instincts were the same regardless of station. Vampires did not often like to share their meals.
"I see," Cassius said softly. That did change things. It did not, however, explain everything. "Please, continue."
“Continue?” Chiara actually huffed out a laugh at that. “Continue with what? I have given you my reasons. I do not see that I need tell you any more of my private business. I consider it an affront that I have had to explain that much - but it was a necessary evil, because you did not know what I am. Now you do.” Those last three words were spoken with all the cold fury she possessed, restrained only barely within the bounds of good manners.
“After all, I do not ask you to reveal the inner workings of your business deals to me, just to get me to respect that which is yours. I do it because of the old laws.” There were old laws, it was more or less true. They weren’t so much laws as a series of traditions and codes, but adhering to them was a matter of honor, and when Chiara was from (not where, but when), honor was a vampire’s most valuable commodity.
That and strength.
“So, in accordance with the old laws, I will give you the knowledge that Keira belongs to me, and that will suffice. And you will respect that which is mine, as I respect that which is yours.” She could hear a distinct parrot-like cadence in her voice, but she was fine with that - a parrot, after all, repeated sounds it already knew, but could impart no original thought. She would be that parrot, repeating that which she had already said, and declining to add anything new.
"You misunderstand me," Cassius replied. "Your business is your own. My business is with Mrs Adams, who stole from and then assaulted me. You claim responsibility for her, therefore I ask you her reasons for doing so. I would not like to assume the worst, failing any other information."
Would not like to...but he would, if pressed. Mrs Adams had not given him any actual information, only a promise that it would be forthcoming. di Palermo was not, to put it politely, being particularly forthcoming.
“Really?” Chiara said, raising an elegant eyebrow. “You, a man, and a vampire nonetheless, were assaulted by a little woman?” If she possessed the ability to throw up, she may well have done so at that statement, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that it was entirely to make a point. “And you want to press the matter, because you… were not strong enough to fight her off? Your ego is bruised? It seems to me that this is not something you would want made public knowledge. It seems to me that the most… flattering course of action for you and your future image would be to let this go.”
Again, not a threat. Chiara didn’t deal in blackmail. That way was for cowards and fools, who had no real power but wanted to pretend for a moment that they were more than they were.
“Keira’s reasons for behaving the way she did were, from what I understand, largely self-preservatory,” she continued. “Oh, the pickpocketing I will give you. She should have chosen more wisely, and for that she has been… chastised. The assault, I am given to believe, happened because you chose to press the matter in the street. Or was I not given the truth of it?”
Di Palermo was prevaricating. The fit of temper had abated, and now she was trying to bait him into distraction, away from whatever it was that she and Mrs Adams were hiding. The promised secrets that it seemed di Palermo was unwilling to reveal.
"It seems to me," Cassius returned, mimicking di Palermo, "that neither of us would want this made public knowledge. I'm not the only one who would have questions. A baker, with a business doing well, who steals on the street at the risk of being sent to the workhouse, who challenges a vampire and goads him with a stake at his heart, who upon finding out his title has a change of heart and donates goods that, were she so poorly-off to be stealing, she could not afford to lose; a baker-pickpocket who then makes assurances that all will be explained, only she cannot explain it...who then turns out to be claimed by another vampire?"
Cassius mirrored the arch of di Palermo's eyebrow. "It's an intriguing mystery, isn't it? And there are those who might reach incorrect conclusions, without an alternative explanation."
Narrowing her eyes again, Chiara sat silently for long moments, gathering herself before she spoke.
“It seems to me,” she began, continuing their little game, “that you have put several of the pieces together for yourself. And you’re right, there is something of the ‘intriguing mystery’ about it. However, the mystery, like Keira, belongs to me. I would venture to suggest that you are welcome to come to as many incorrect conclusions as you like, because I do not feel that you are entitled to an ‘alternative explanation’. I do not owe one, and will not give one.”
An impasse? Chiara hoped not. All he had to do was follow her back to l’Albergo and he’d know all there was to know. She would much rather come to an understanding with him that would see him backing right off.
“What will it take to get you to drop the matter?” she asked. “Understanding, of course, that the answers to the questions you are asking are entirely off the table.”
Since Cassius' primary dealings were in information, there was little else of interest to him, or at least little as satisfying as the answer to the puzzle of Mrs Adams. Di Palermo's question, however, opened up a different path of inquiry, in what was essentially an outright statement that there was indeed a mystery here worth uncovering...if only because di Palermo so badly wished it to remain hidden.
"I'm willing to hear your offer," Cassius decided. She might try to bait him with an empty hook, but it was always worth knowing what people were willing to give up in order to save something else. "What do you have in mind?"
“What would it take?” Chiara shot back. It was Negotiations 101, not to give out the best offer until something else was on the table. She had much to bargain with, but she wasn’t sure if any of it would be of interest to him… and she was not about to undermine her already tenuous position by revealing to him just how tenuous it was.
"Give me a reason," Cassius replied, voice going hard and unyielding, "to leave this alone. I was told Mrs Adams' secrets would be coming to light soon. If there is no value in having the information, because it will be public knowledge, then I have no reason to pursue it. You may give me a date, in lieu of an explanation. I will be satisfied with that, until we come to it."
“I do not know what she promised you,” Chiara returned, her voice just as cold, “but certain of those ‘secrets’ are not Keira’s to promise. The reason to leave this alone is as I have already outlined.”
Fury welled in the back of her throat. Loathe as she was to give any more up than she already had, it was time to… stretch the truth a little. He would think he was winning, which made her nauseated all over again, but it was better than the alternative - giving him anything real.
“The bakery is half mine,” she lied, voice a snarl. “Keira runs it because she is not a vampire. I cannot participate in any business conducted during the day, for obvious reasons. And because my status as a vampire is not common knowledge, we put it about that the bakery is solely hers. Ordinarily,” and here she allowed the growl from the back of her throat to escape for a moment, “ordinarily that is enough to satisfy most people. You had to push, and now you know.”
Well, that explained the bakery (she hoped), but not the money. “And though I do not think I owe you this, but I have money. Old money. Which is why she was able to offer her services for free.”
The story, then, according to di Palermo, was that Mrs Adams picked pockets because she only owned part of the bakery and was in dire need of funds, but when her need became urgent, di Palermo would cover her, because Mrs Adams protected some great secret for her that Mrs Adams had erroneously thought di Palermo would be willing to reveal.
It was very thin, but also credible, and Cassius suspected that if he looked into records and deeds, he would find it the truth. Di Palermo had no reason to lie about something easily disproved.
That was not the truth he was interested in, however. That truth, he would not be getting from her.
"Very well," Cassius decided, straightening in his chair. "I believe our business is concluded. You will not object, I hope, if I continue to patronize your business? My fiancée was so taken by your little cakes. I understand that many of my guests have placed orders of their own."
And he was not prepared, just yet, to leave Mrs Adams entirely alone. He would respect di Palermo's claim on her, but that did not preclude further friendly conversation.
“I would prefer it if you did not,” Chiara said bluntly. “Keira feels you to be a bully, a pushy, insistent bully. My limited dealings with you here today have done little to disprove this perception. Part of my function in my acquaintanceship with Keira is to protect her from those that wish her harm, or those with whom she would rather not associate. You find yourself on that list. Therefore I must insist, again, that you cease any and all dealings with her.”
Because there was no way on God’s gray-green earth that she was about to sit back and let this man continue to bully or harass Keira. Not while she still didn’t breathe.
“Your fiancée has the fortune to be betrothed to you. She will find other little cakes that will capture her favor, I am sure, with your influence and funds. Your guests, I will tolerate in my bakery. After all, they have done nothing wrong. Fact-finding missions, I will not tolerate. I have given you all I am prepared to give you, Mr. Corbet.”
Yes, she knew he was a Lord. But equally, as far as he knew, she was a Lady, and he was still behaving like a prat. He had paid lip service to her status when first she arrived, but his behavior since betrayed his lack of respect for her, both as a presence in society and as a fellow vampire.
She loathed him, and sat silently seething, fury once again bubbling over at having to be here at all.
"Lord Ravensworth," Cassius corrected softly. "You forget yourself, Lady di Palermo." He did not think it was a distraction, this time--her petulance smacked more of lost temper than deliberate machination. She was correct, however, in that she had nothing of value to offer him.
"Someone will see you out," Cassius told her, rising from his chair. "Good day, Lady di Palermo. This has been an interesting interview."
Yes, yes, or course. Cassius Sherbet, Lord of Whatever, she thought to herself, and just barely managed to keep the smirk off her face.
“I trust I will not see you again after I leave,” she remarked mildly as she rose. “As I consider our business to be concluded. And we do understand each other, do we not?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but rather nodded her head in a mockery of politeness and swept her way out the door. She brushed off the butler who appeared seemingly out of nowhere to show her out. She knew her way out, and the way she was feeling, after the meeting she had just had, she had zero desire for any assistance from any man whatsoever. Pigs, thugs and bullies, she told herself with a scowl. She had been right to keep La Sorellanza going, right to keep it secret, and right to refuse to divulge anything about it. This meeting just proved her right.
On a wave of righteous indignation, she bore herself home. The towncar, she eschewed with a firm hand due to the male driver; the hansom cab she rejected for the same reason. On foot, she returned to l’Albergo.