Chapter Text
The initial impression that the Baudelaires got from Kate Wetherall was that she was a very high-energy person. A phrase which here means someone who always moves very quickly and talks very loudly, even when they are inside and it would be more polite to sit still and quiet. She shook the Baudelaires’ hands with a grip that could rival a python and each of the children could not help but wince when it was their turn. Apparently, she had been waiting eagerly for the Baudelaires to arrive. She said just as much.
“I love everyone here to bits, but I’ve been dying for some new faces!” She said as she unfurled her strong hand from Violet’s sore one. She went on without a care, either not noticing or ignoring Violet’s wincing, “Oh! And I heard you’re an inventor! Personally, I’m an adventurer and future secret agent, but I do know a thing or two about inventing things.”
“You like to invent things?” Violet asked, momentarily forgetting her sore hand in favor of focusing on the subject she was interested in.
“Sure do! Kate said, “I’ve come up with a few useful things. Like, one time Mr. Benedict passed out and we had to carry him. So, I made a sledge out of a table!” Violet wondered why on earth they could not have simply asked an adult for help or called an ambulance, and she wondered why on earth Mr. Benedict had passed out, but SQ cut in before Violet could think to ask about any of these things.
“Speaking of, where are the others?” Kate, who’d been about to speak again, closed her mouth and let out a long hum of consideration. Then, she snapped her fingers and made finger guns at SQ and the Baudelaires.
“Pretty sure they’re in Mr. Benedict’s study!” This sentence gave the Baudelaires pause, a phrase which here means it shocked them because they had never met an adult who let children in their study.
“You guys are allowed in the study?” Klaus asked. He was trying to picture it in his mind. He had already seen an impressive number of books since entering the house and wondered how many more there might be in a room specifically designated for studying and reading.
“Sure are! If you want, I can take you through a shortcut!”
“We’re not making the Baudelaires crawl through the vents,” SQ said, and Kate deflated.
“But it would be fun!” SQ gave Kate a look, and she heaved a great sigh, “Fine, we’ll go the boring way.”
And so Kate took them the boring way. It was a short walk down a hallway, plastered with more family photos and paintings all labeled with ‘V. Hopefield’ the same name she'd seen on paintings previously, which made Violet wonder who this Ms. Hopefield was. At the end of the hall was a large door. It was the same wood as the front door, with handles just as tarnished, a word which means they were worn down from so many people coming and going through the study. Kate shot a grin at the Baudelaires, then pushed the doors open with a flourish and a dramatic “Ta-da!”
The inside of the study was nearly more impressive than Klaus had imagined. The walls, those which were not covered that is, were plastered with green plaid wallpaper. But the walls were hardly visible beneath the numerous bookshelves, all crammed with an impressive number of books. There was a desk off to the left of the door, on which another stack of books sat, and in the middle of the room was a coffee table, surrounded by a couch and two armchairs, all of which were covered in throw pillows and blankets. On the couch sat two boys, which the Baudelaires recognized from the photos on the stairway. A bald boy with glasses, and an average but polite-looking boy.
“Ooh,” Sunny cooed, which meant something like; “this place looks very cozy.” Kate knocked on the doorway, startling the boys from whatever they were doing. When Klaus leaned to the side to see, he caught notice of a chessboard sitting between them. The boy with glasses seemed to be losing.
“Oh!” The spectacled boy said, “Hi Kate, SQ and… the Baudelaires, right?” Violet introduced herself and her siblings once again, and in return learned that the boys were Sticky and Reynie.
“Are you guys playing chess?” Klaus asked, and both boys turned to cast a glance at the chessboard sitting abandoned on the couch.
“We are,” Sticky said, then in a more defeated tone, “and I’m losing.”
“Best two out of three?” Reynie asked, and Sticky gave him a tired look. Klaus, meanwhile, was marveling at all of the books in the study. A word which here means he was wondering if he was allowed to read them. He knew that adults were often very protective of their things, especially things that were kept in certain rooms. Klaus had personally never understood the concept of books, furniture, and other things existing only to be looked at, and never used. But adults seemed to understand it perfectly, and the Baudelaires had been snapped at more than once for stepping on ‘the nice carpet’ in their shoes by friends of their parents.
“You’re allowed to read them,” Reynie said, catching onto Klaus’s wandering eyes. Upon hearing those words, Klaus’s heart skipped a beat.
“Really?” He asked, still hesitant. Reynie nodded.
“Oh yeah, Mr. Benedict encourages us to,” Sticky added, “I’ve read about half of them. Almost, but not quite.”
“You’ve read half of these books?”
“Almost half,” Sticky corrected, looking away bashfully, “I’m sort of a fast reader.”
Klaus figured that Sticky was either being humble, or he’d been here for long enough that he'd had the time to get through half of the numerous books within the study. His eyes roamed around again, looking at the variety of books. A few of the Baudelaire’s guardians had had nice libraries. Their Uncle Monty, for instance, had had a library stocked with books all about reptiles. Or their Aunt Josephine, who had had a library stocked with books about grammar. And Justice Strauss, a very kind woman who had unfortunately not been their guardian, had lent them her private library when the Baudelaires had found it necessary to do research on cooking and nuptial law. But Mr. Benedict’s library was by far the most extensive. On the shelves, coffee table, and desk, Klaus could see books on reptiles, grammar, nuptial law, and a number of other things. There were also quite a few fiction books which caught his eyes. If he was really allowed to read these, he had the feeling he would be in the study quite a bit.
“What are you staring at?” Snapped a voice, and it was only then that Klaus realized that his eyes had landed on a very short girl. She was sitting on the desk, her legs dangling over the ledge. She had a pair of craft scissors and a piece of paper, which she appeared to be trying to cut into a heart. She didn’t seem to be doing a very good job. She fixed the Baudelaires with a suspicious stare. Klaus quickly averted his eyes.
“Constance, these are the Baudelaires,” Reynie said, “the kids Mr. Benedict said were coming to live with us, remember?”
“Oh, right,” Constance said, glaring at the paper as she accidentally cut into the heart she’d been trying to make, “the sad ones.”
“Don't mind her. She can be abrasive, but she usually doesn't mean any harm.”
“And when she does?” Klaus asked
"Trust me, you'll know," Kate said. Constance heaved a sigh and hopped off the desk. Then she trudged over to the children and held up the paper heart she had been cutting. There was a cut on the side of the heart that had clearly not been intentional.
“Kate,” she said, “give me the tape from your bucket.”
“How do you ask?” SQ piped up from the back of the group. Constance’s face got very red for a moment, a sharp contrast to her vibrantly blue eyes. Her brow furrowed and her lips pressed together, as though she might start yelling, And the Baudelaires were prepared to cover their ears, but then the color drained from her face and, begrudgingly, she said,
“Can I please have the tape?”
“Why, of course, Constance,” Kate said, making a big show of how well Constance had done saying please. She went to sit on the couch and beckoned the rest of the group to join her. Reynie moved the chessboard off of the couch and gestured for the Baudelaires to take a seat. They took a seat. Reynie and Sticky both took seats in the armchair. SQ sat on the floor. Constance, meanwhile, hovered by Kate, very impatiently waiting for the tape.
Kate took the bucket off of her hip. Violet could see that there was a little latch system on her belt and made a mental note to ask her how she had made it at a later time. Kate then took the tape from the bucket and handed it to Constance, who sat down on the floor and set about taping up her paper heart. Kate sat back, looking satisfied.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you carry around that bucket?” Violet asked, and Kate’s eyes brightened and she sat up straight again.
“For carrying things, of course!” She said, as if everyone carried around buckets instead of bags or backpacks. Of course, very few people carry around buckets to store their things, because buckets do not have lids on them, it is very easy to lose things by carrying them around in a bucket. Kate, of course, had modified her bucket, so that this would not be an issue. Still, that did not make her mode of transporting things any more common. She promptly flipped open the top of her bucket and started showing the Baudelaires the contents. First, there was a Swiss Army Knife, a flashlight, a penlight, and a bottle of extra-strength glue. Then, a slingshot, a spool of fishing wire, a horseshoe magnet, and then-
At the appearance of a spyglass, the Baudelaires all froze. Klaus had one half of that very spyglass sitting in the pocket of his sweater. But Kate, somehow, had two halves of the spyglass to make a whole. He recognized the patterns that went around the spyglass, the shiny brass metal. The only new thing was a cap that had been placed on the end. Kate, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of anything out of place.
“Where did you get that?” Violet asked. Kate tossed it and caught it again, fixing her with a curious look.
“V.F.D.” Sunny said, which meant something like “do you know anything about V.F.D?”
“What’s V.F.D?” Asked SQ.
“We were hoping you would tell us that,” Klaus said, pulling his half of the spyglass out of his pocket and holding it up for the children to see. The children all leaned forward to look at the half of the spyglass. “We don’t know what V.F.D is, but we know these spy glasses are connected to it.” He turned to look at Kate, perhaps a bit accusingly, “So, why do you have one? Do you know something?”
“What? No,” Kate said, passing the spyglass back and forth in her hands, then holding it up for Klaus to take a look at, “I found it in an antique store forever ago and thought it looked cool. Moocho got it for me as an early birthday present.” Klaus’s heart sank at her words. He’d genuinely been hoping for an answer. Kate didn’t miss the way his face crumbled from fierce determination to disheartened. And, it seemed, neither did any of the other children. Klaus felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Reynie’s hand resting upon it.
“How about, you tell us everything you do know?”
It took some time to explain the entire situation to the other children. As it is a very long tale, and a very sad one. And if you have ever tried to tell a sad tale, as I am doing now, you know it can be a very difficult thing to do, especially when the tale involves you. It takes a lot of deep breaths, moments to collect your thoughts, and sometimes pausing to let yourself cry into the long letter from the woman you love, or the tea your friend who is watching you cry made for you. But the Baudelaires, together, manage to tell the long, sad tale of their experience thus far. Including what had happened with the Quagmires, and the initials they had been left with. When they were finished, the children were all staring at them, astonished. A word which here means they were shocked to hear everything the Baudelaires had been through, and terribly sorry that they had been through it. For a long moment, when Violet had said the last word, there was only silence. It was not an awkward or unpleasant silence, though. It was the kind that made it evident everyone in the room was thinking. Sometimes, it is good to sit in silence for a bit, and let things sink in. It was finally broken by Kate,
“Man, this Count Olaf guy sounds like a real creep!” Violet didn’t give a response to this, but she nodded her head. The other children expressed similar sentiments.
“We could probably help you find your friends.” Reynie said, “Milligan has a group of trusted sentries that have helped us in the past. He could probably send some out to look for the Quagmires.” The Baudelaires gave each other doubtful looks. This was something they did very often nowadays. They had gotten quite accustomed to communicating silently. Here, they were conveying to each other that they weren’t sure how good an idea this was. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust the children. The society all seemed very polite- aside from Constance, but they had believed Reynie when he said she was harmless- and well-intentioned. They trusted the children, but they did not trust any government official that they’d come across so far. Not a single authority figure had been of any help to them thus far.
“Milligan’s agents aren’t like what you’re thinking,” Constance said, and the Baudelaires looked at her. Had their thoughts really been that clear on their faces? It couldn’t have been that, because Constance, who was now clinking two chess pieces together like action figures or toy trucks, was not even looking at them. “They're actually smart.”
“It’s true,” Kate said, leaning forward in her chair, “my dad is really smart, and he only chose the best for the job.” The Baudelaires shared looks again. They didn’t want to land the other children in hot water. They were all certain that they were wonderful, capable children, but how could they possibly understand anything the children had dealt with in the time since their parents had passed? It seemed insurmountable, the number of times they had faced treachery and wickedness. How could anyone understand? Of course, if the Baudelaires knew what the children had been through, they would have been more inclined to accept their help. But they did not know at that moment, so Violet settled on the politest answer she could.
“Thank you, we’ll think about it.”
Then, a voice called for them from downstairs, announcing that it was time for lunch. The children all rose from their chairs, suddenly all too aware of their empty stomachs. The Baudelaires lingered at the back of the group, going over the offer they’d been handed. It seemed too good to be true, that they were suddenly in the care of competent and loving adults, and an entire group of children, outside the Quagmires, just as clever and eager to solve the puzzle that was their situation as the Baudelaires were. It seemed unreal. And while I am glad to say it was very real, I am also very afraid to say that like most good things in the lives of the Baudelaires, it was not to last. But we will get to that later, because when they reached the kitchen, the only thing the Baudelaires could focus on was filling their empty stomachs.