Chapter Text
It wasn’t totally unusual for strange people to turn up to Havenfield, but these folks were especially strange.
Sophie had seen her fair share of odd people come and go. Doctors, and lawyers, and lone women, and big families, and just about everyone under the sun.
Three teens who looked nothing alike, yet claimed vehemently to be biological siblings, were not on her list.
Edaline cleared her throat.
“So, Fitzwilliam, where’d you say you were from, again?”
The boy looked down at his plate, uselessly pushing around his steak.
“London, ma’am,” he said with the least convincing attempt at an accent Sophie had ever heard.
“Ah, and how’d you get all the way here?”
“Well, first, we took a boat, ma’am,” the blonde one, Keith, explained in an equally unconvincing accent.
Grady seemed to choke on his food at this, and Keith seemed to receive a hard kick under the table by his betrayed, “ Ow! ” And Bianca’s glare at him.
“So!” Edaline said cheerfully, trying to recover, “Who likes dessert? I have pie.”
“Please!” Bianca said with equal cheer, throwing another glare at her “brothers”.
“So,” spoke Grady, filling the space after Edaline left, “how old are you all? Look about Sophie’s age.”
Grady gestured to her. She shrunk a bit at all the eyes suddenly on her.
“17, 18, 19!” Keith replied, “Mummy used to call us her little stairsteps. Rough set of pregnancies, that. All different fathers, too.”
Bianca’s water nearly came out her nose, while Fitzwilliam elegantly turned a laugh into a cough.
Grady swallowed roughly. “Oh?”
“Mm-hmm. Right shame, right shame. Fitzy’s was a chimney sweep, Bianca and I’s were two different pure finders. Mum didn’t have a sense of smell, see.”
“I suspect not,” Grady replied, failing at hiding his amusement.
“Pie!” burst in Edaline, serving everyone.
“Oh, thank you kind- thank you very much, ma’am,” said Keith.
“Say, Keith, how long’ll you folks be around here?” Grady asked.
“Well, um… I suspect as long as you’ll allow us to hang about.”
“Mm. That’ll be long enough that you can drop the accents. Nice try, though.”
“Damn.”
“Be honest, now, where’d you come from? Where are ya’ headed?”
“Kansas,” said Bianca, “and we ain’t headed much of anywhere.”
She poked her slice of pie, those impossibly teal eyes downcast. Dark hair perfectly framing her tan face, the only interruption a network of white lightning-strike scars that started on her right side and splintered over to her left. They only brought more attention to her insane beauty. She looked like she belonged in a painting, or a stage singing opera or dancing ballet.
She glanced up, meeting Sophie’s eyes.
Sophie could practically feel the blood rush to her head as she immediately looked anywhere else.
“Well, you folks can hang around until you figure out where you’re going. So long as you’re willing to help with the animals,” Grady said.
“Yes sir, of course,” Keith replied, far too confidently.
~*~
“YOU SAID VERDI WAS A HEIFER!” Keith yelled, failing terribly at using the lasso.
“WELL, SHE IS! SHE’S JUST GOT BULL ANATOMY! AND ATTITUDE!” Grady yelled back, as Keith was very nearly impaled by an impressively large horn.
“Should we… uh… help them?” Bianca asked Edaline from where they observed, a safe distance away.
“Nah, they’ll get her eventually. It’s my turn to rotate her next time. Today, Grady gets that honor.”
After they successfully moved Verdi to graze, the boys came back more than a little beat up, in the way that would be expected for anyone who was an amateur at dealing with Verdi’s antics.
“Fuckin’ cows, I hate fuckin’ cows…” Keith muttered, just loud enough for others to hear, as they all walked back towards the house.
“Well, I don’t think they like it much when you fuck ‘em either,” Fitzwilliam replied.
Keith elbowed him, moving up to walk up beside Bianca, just ahead of where Sophie tried to walk without interrupting anything.
“Hey, Bi, you think you can mend this?” he asked, holding out his shirt, which had gained a brand-new gaping hole, presumably from getting caught on Verdi’s horn.
“You know I don’t sew.”
“Who can’t sew?”
“Not can’t. Don’t. Do it yourself, you’re a big boy.”
“I can’t sew!”
“So why do you expect me to?”
“Um… I can sew,” Sophie said.
This caught the pair off guard, and it struck her that she hadn’t talked in front of them before. Keith turned to her.
“Oh, um, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure it smells like man sweat and cow shit.”
“I live on this farm, do you really think that bothers me?”
“Fair enough.”
~*~
It was a few hours later, when Sophie actually sat down to do the mending, that she regretted her decision.
She was shit at sewing.
She could, by all technicalities, sew. That is, she could move the needle in and out of the fabric with the bit of thread attached. But anything beyond that, tying the knots or making the stitches even or doing it at a speed beyond that of an inebriated tortoise, that was far beyond her ability.
Why did she agree to this? To sew up a stinky shirt, worn by a stranger, who she had never even spoken to before? She didn’t know. Maybe it was because Bianca was standing right there. Maybe she couldn’t stand to see her face twist into something filled with anger. Maybe it was to impress her, just a little.
Ooh, look at me, I can sew . Ain’t I just friendship material?
Ugh. That was the kind of thing the Black Swan had worked into her.
You’re a lady, Sophie. Act like it, please.
Sit up straight.
I raised you better than this.
The door to the parlor opened, spilling candlelight into the dark hall, illuminating the figure of Bianca in her nightdress.
“Miss Ruewen said you might be in here. She said we’ll likely end up sharin’ your room - ‘less you don’t want to - I can sleep on the sofa no problem. Just thought I should tell ya’.”
“Oh! I don’t mind sharing, not at all.”
Bianca looked down at the shirt, which Sophie had unsuccessfully unpinned and repinned more times than she would like to admit.
“Still mendin’?”
“Yeah, I’m a bit out of practice. I’ll get it… eventually.”
“I wish I was outta practice. Here, lemme take a look.”
She crossed the room in a few long strides (making Sophie realize that she was tall ), took up the shirt and examined it.
“Well, your technique is… unique. Needle?”
Sophie handed it over, feeling quite exposed, like she was being towered over by one of the older Black Swan members at her examinations.
Yes, she’s looking very healthy, Forkle. You’ve found a good one. She’ll be perfect.
“There ya’ are. That should do quite fine. I’m sure he’ll find a way to rip it again, but that’s just his nature.”
“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to,” Sophie said.
“Yes, I did. I couldn’t make ya’ deal with his sweat and road dirt in good conscience. You’re too sweet for that.”
“Mm. So, if I were a bitch, you’d let me suffer?”
“Maybe. Probably. Yes. But you ain’t, so no need to worry.”
“I’ll be sure not to get on your bad side, then.”
“Eh, you won’t.”
Bianca offered down a hand, which Sophie took as she pulled herself up.
She cleared her throat, struck again by Bianca’s height and her strength.
“I’ll, uh, show you on up to the room, then.”
“Thank ya’.”
~*~
“IS THAT AN OPOSSUM!?” Bianca nearly shrieked.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t tell you about Iggy. He’s friendly!”
Iggy sat on the bed, satisfied as a fat cat, already looking tired enough to turn in for the night.
“Has it… has it got hydrophobia?”
“No, no, he’s a pet. Look at his tail and legs there, see? They’re all crooked. We found him as a joey, his mom left him. He wouldn’t have survived out there on his own, so they let me keep him.”
“Oh.”
“Go and pet him, he’s nice. Just a little stinky,” Sophie said.
Bianca did so, retreating a little when he licked her hand.
“That means he likes you,” Sophie clarified.
“Oh. He’s kinda cute up close. Pap always chased ‘em off with a broom back home.”
“Nah, we welcome all sorts of animals here. Even the weird, hairless, teenage ones with funny accents.”
Bianca smiled, stunning, as was everything she did.
“Oh, sure, my accent’s funny, Miss California. You sound like you’re gonna go pannin’ for gold first thing tomorrow.”
“Hush,” Sophie said with a laugh.
“You can’t even say anythin’, you know I’m right.”
“Can we not just sleep?”
“Sure thing, forty-niner.”
“I wasn’t even born in forty-nine.”
“Close enough,” Bianca said, her smile cheshire.
~*~
Sophie didn’t sleep much that night.
She had a Greek statue come to life laying next to her, so this felt entirely reasonable.
Said Greek statue slept like a baby, not a surprise after who-knows-how-long on the road from Kansas to California and a full day of work at Havenfield. She even started snoring halfway through the night, something Sophie suspected would be deemed as entirely unladylike, but she found almost endearing. Almost. Perhaps she would’ve fallen asleep eventually if it wasn’t for the additional noise.
Once Iggy joined in on the snoring chorus, sleep was entirely out of the question.
This drove her downstairs, back to the parlor, to read until dawn.
She absently noticed a lamplight outside, far off and unmoving. More travelers making their way, most likely they would end up joining the already cramped Havenfield residence by tomorrow. Sophie silently mourned whatever remainder of privacy she had that hadn’t already been invaded by Keith and Co.
Sophie was up and milking the cows before the roosters were complaining, the kettle was on before the jays were singing, and breakfast was already done when Edaline and Grady trodded down the stairs half asleep.
“Aw, Soph,” Edaline said, looking at the set table, “you didn’t have to do all this.”
“Our guests are… noisy. I couldn’t sleep. Besides, hospitality. It’s important.”
There was that little voice in the back of her head, as always.
‘ The best way to impress folks is to show your godly womanhood ,’ said someone with a stupid code name a thousand years ago. Sophie didn’t remember who. Buster or Listerine or Horse Feathers or something else. ‘ You must show proper behavior and etiquette at all times, as well as impress them with your skills about the home .’
“Mm, funny how I don’t recall you pulling out the full stops when folks our age come through. Just the pretty young men, I suppose?” Grady pointed out/subtly accused.
Sophie didn’t respond. She hadn’t noticed the boys looking particularly pretty. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t think she’d looked at the boys all that closely before.
Of course, it was hard not to notice them as they thundered down the stairs, already starting with the bickering.
“No, no, no, no,” Keith said, “You ain’t readin’ it right.”
“How the hell else am I meant to read it!” Fitzwilliam said, waving a book aggressively. “It’s about being rejected in a friendship, you fool.”
“Aw, like hell it is-” Keefe seized the book, “Must persuasion lure to thy love, and who now, Sappho, hath wronged thee? Yea, for though she flies, she shall quickly chase thee; Yea, though gifts she spurned, she shall soon bestow them-”
Sophie sprung, ripping her book from his hands and holding it to her chest like some precious contraband.
“That’s my book!” she said, as though that wasn’t already obvious.
“Oh, sorry,” Keith said, “I was just arguing with Fitzy, here. We found it in the parlor yesterday evening. Didn’t mean no harm. Sappho, though, excellent taste.”
“Surprised you can read,” Sophie said, not realizing how offensive it sounded until it came from her mouth.
“Oh, yes, I’m very trained,” Keith said, unfazed, “Anyway, now that we have a third party, what’s your thought on the matter?”
“Hm?”
“D’you think Sappho loved women romantically? I think so, Fitz is an ignorant bastard stuck in the 18th century-”
At this point, Bianca seemed to get tired of standing behind the boys as they continued to block the stairwell. She elbowed through, making a beeline to the kitchen table to have polite conversion with Grady and Edaline.
“I think that…” Sophie started, “I think many women experience a- an attraction to other women, in some sense. I don’t know if that makes it romantic, per se-”
“Well, I can’t say how it is for women, but as a man I know I am quite thoroughly and strictly attracted to a specific side of the gender binary. What’s for breakfast? Smells delicious.”
Keith then waltzed to the kitchen, as though the only thing which guided him in this world was his nose and his stomach. Perhaps it was.
No one had even got to build their plates before there was a knock at the front door. Almost certainly those travelers Sophie had spotted late last night. She hadn’t made any extra breakfast, which she was quickly regretting.
Edaline sprang to answer the door first, out of sight once she left the kitchen.
“Oh! Mr. Vacker! Why, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Vacker?” Grady asked, springing up to meet the guests.
“ Shit! ” Keith said, ducking under the tablecloth. Fitzwilliam and Bianca followed after.
“What the hell are you-” Sophie was cut off by her ankle being grabbed as she was pulled to the floor. She yelped as she was tugged under the table alongside the rest.
“Do not blow our cover,” Bianca whispered.
The voices wandered closer, apparently now in the kitchen as well.
“Why, Mr. Ruewen, your home is lovely,” said a masculine voice with a southern accent as thick as Fitzwilliam’s or Bianca’s. “Deeply sorry we haven’t visited before this.”
“Oh, um, no worries,” Grady stammered, “Didn’t really expect you to. My… involvement in Washington was short, you know. I don’t believe we talked too much, other than when we were arguing. And the home is all Edaline’s doing, she’s the real talent here. I just sit around looking ugly.”
“Oh, now, Mr. Ruewen, don’t talk about yourself like that. What’s all this breakfast, here? Expectin’ guests?”
“Aw, well we just had-” he seemed to realize, now, that the kitchen looked entirely devoid of children, “we just had a big appetite. Good thing you came over, you can help us out.”
“That would be lovely, Mr. Ruewen,” said a feminine voice Sophie didn’t recognize.
Bianca gasped quietly, picking up the tablecloth only enough that she and Sophie could peek out.
Across the kitchen, four adults stood. Grady, Edaline, and who must’ve been Mr. Vacker all faced away from their hiding place. The woman, presumably Mrs. Vacker, looked right toward them. She put a finger to her lips. Shhh .
Bianca dropped the cloth, returning them to a state of blindness.
“Now, Mr. Ruewen, I’m afraid we can’t stay too awful long. We have… business to attend to. Specifically, I’m sure you’ve heard of the kidnapping of my children?”
“I suppose it was in some papers, now that I think about it. I’m truly sorry, sir, that’s awful.”
“Yes. I know the experience of a lost child is familiar to you. I’ve lost all three within just a few years, Grady. Now, this certainly ain’t any sort of accusation, but I have reason to believe they might’ve passed through this area. Maybe this very farm. There should be three of them, Fitzroy, Biana, and that horrid Sencen boy. The one that went missing from Cassius Sencen’s home all those years ago. He answers to Keefe.”
Sophie glanced at her companions under the table, the shadows which painted them didn’t manage to hide their guilty faces.
“Aw, well, I’m deeply sorry, but I’m afraid I haven’t run into a Fitzroy, Biana, or Keefe. Maybe they passed through another farm. Lotta land, out this way. Could be just about anywhere.”
“I see.”
“Mm-hmm. Would you like to stay for breakfast?”
“No, Mr. Ruewen, I think we’ll be on our way. Thank you, though.”
“Of course, come by any time.”
The Vacker’s leave was marked by the door slamming, far harder than was necessary, immediately followed by Grady lifting the tablecloth and peering into the faces of the four kids stuffed under it.
“So,” he started, “who wants to explain first?”
~*~
Fitzwilliam explained that he was Fitzroy, (‘Please, just call me Fitz.’), Keith was truly Keefe, (‘Amazing cover name, right?’), and Bianca was actually Biana, (‘The names were their stupid idea.’)
“We had to run,” Biana said, “they wanted to marry me off and work Fitz down to the bone. Pap painted it like we was kidnapped, but we wasn’t. It was our decision, and we ain’t goin’ back.”
“He also threatened to kill me,” Keefe said, “and I prefer not eating lead. So that was a motivator.”
Edaline sighed.
“So, that’s why you folks act so funny.”
“Yeah, I s’pose we’re a pretty queer bunch,” Keefe said, immediately resulting in an elbow to the ribs by Fitz.
“The point is, please don’t tell Pap we’re here,” Biana said.
“Of course,” said Grady, “I never did like Alden very much. He was always very…”
“Bigoted,” finished Edaline.
“Yes, yeah, and a total hypocrite. So, what are you folks gonna do?”
“What do you mean?” Fitz asked.
“You can’t run forever,” Grady said, “Alden isn’t all that old, you care to be on the road for thirty more years?”
“Hadn’t… hadn’t really thought that far,” Fitz said.
“Well,” said Edaline, “I suppose you can stay here awhile while you think. So long as you’re willing to work.”
“Can we eat breakfast before we move Verdi? Please let me die on a full stomach,” Keefe said, which was the appropriate response.
~*~
“So,” said Biana after she and Sophie had been collecting chicken eggs in silence for a while, “are you… mad? At me?”
“Why would I be mad?” Sophie asked.
“We lied. A lot.”
“Not… a lot , a lot. Just a little a lot.”
“Is a little a lot too much to still be friends?”
Friends, friends, friends, friends, friends.
Biana wanted to be friends .
“No! Of course not. I don’t- I mean- people don’t stop being friends after just a little of lying.”
“Oh, okay! I’m glad.”
Sophie hadn’t really had friends before.
Sure, she had her cousins, when they came down to visit once a week or so from town. And before everything with the Black Swan, she had her little sister.
That was it, though. One boy her age, and four smaller kids.
A girl, her age, wanted to be friends.
It was a miracle.
She was high off the joy of it, until the next question was asked.
“Say, I know this is awful nosy of me to ask. Especially considering my state in life. But why ain’t you married, yet?” Biana asked.
“Oh. Um. Just isn’t practical, is it? We don’t go out an awful lot, I don’t know any suitable boys. Plus, Mom and Dad, they don’t have any other help on the farm, usually. So, I mean, it just makes more sense to stay at home awhile.”
“Ah. Course, course. Just curious, ‘s all. You’re an awfully pretty girl, just thought the boys would be clamoring all over ya’.”
“All over me?” Sophie said with a laugh, “If they’re clamoring over me, you must be getting a marriage proposal every day.”
“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you look like you were painted by Botticelli or Sargent or something.”
“Ain’t no one ever painted me,” Biana said dismissively.
“Nah, you’re right, Venus and Madame X don’t look anything like you.”
“Thank-”
“You’re way prettier. Those men should’ve painted you instead of them.”
“Hush up, before I throw this egg at your head.”
“Sorry you can’t face the truth, Aphrodite.”
“People get smote for sayin’ stuff like that.”
“I’ll take the risk, then. If so, Venus can’t face the truth either. She’s went and been replaced.”
This earned a shove as Biana exited the chicken coop, but Sophie could tell she was smiling.
~*~ Biana ~*~
Biana had no fucking idea how to get out of this.
That was, she knew she should really, really get away from the Ruewen house.
It wasn’t that they weren’t kind, no, they were the kindest folks on the journey so far. Their home was lovely and quaint, the food was delicious, the animals were… mostly nice.
But their daughter.
For a while, Biana thought Sophie hated her. Hell, Sophie didn’t talk for the first few hours after they arrived. The only interactions Biana had with her was when she caught Sophie staring like a scared deer.
Sophie had seemed to warm up now, but Biana had also warmed up to her. In a way that Biana… didn’t like.
It’s strange to say that she didn’t like that she liked someone, but it was true.
Biana knew they would have to get back on the road soon. They couldn’t stay at Havenfield forever, as nice as the Ruewens were. Getting attached to Sophie could only spell pain.
So, Biana knew she had to get out. Cut off the infected limb before it spreads and kills.
That was easier said than done.
Especially when the infection had blonde hair and big brown eyes that looked black, but when the light hit them just right, they sparkled gold. Lord, and that didn’t even get to the smile, or the freckles on her nose that you could only see in daylight, or-
“Biana?”
“Hm?”
“Mashed potatoes?” Edaline asked, gesturing with the bowl.
“Oh, yes please, ma’am. Sorry, I didn’t hear ya’.”
Keefe subtly cleared his throat.
And then again.
It was the third time when Biana realized he wanted some kind of attention and didn’t just have a lump of potato stuck in his gullet.
He dramatically widened his eyes, looking from her to the door and back again.
Biana sighed.
“Don’t mind me, I’m just realizing I forgot to wash up! Silly me. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“I also forgot to do that,” Keefe said stiltedly, following her out the door.
Once they were safely in the parlor, Biana dropped the sweet facade.
“Okay, what’s your problem? Did you break something?”
“No, I don’t break shit.”
“So, we’re just gonna ignore that vase back in Nevada? You know those folks were pissed, that ugly thing was authentic.”
“That- alright, sometimes I break shit. But, no, that ain’t what this is about. Me and Fitz were talkin’-”
“Oh, yeah, you do a lotta talkin’ in that room at night.”
“The point bein’! We’re thinkin’ we got a way to get us away from Alden. But you ain’t gonna like it much.”
“Well?”
“The Neverseen has a base in California.”
“We are not joining the Neverseen! Are you off your fuckin’ rocker?!”
“No! No. But we’re- alright, more I , was thinkin’ that if we can’t talk sense into Alden… maybe Alvar can?”
“Goddamn, boy, you are off your rocker. No, no, fuck no. We ain’t goin’ to the Neverseen for help, we ain’t goin’ to Alvar for help, we ain’t gettin’ help from no one that would wanna shoot us dead if we breathed wrong.”
“Okay, alright, I get it. Just… puttin’ it out there. Think for a while.”
“Don’t need to,” she said dismissively, pushing past him and going back to the kitchen.
~*~
Sophie sat at her vanity in her nightdress, carefully brushing her hair.
Biana averted her eyes, instead focusing on the plump opossum sat calmly in her lap, curled up and comfortable just like a house cat would be. She made a mental note that she really ought to adopt one of these little guys.
Then a thought occurred to her, and before she could second guess herself, she was already talking.
“Hey, um, Sophie?”
“Yeah?” she asked, turning slightly.
“Earlier, the boys were talkin’ about Sappho.”
“Oh, yes. I have a book of her poetry. I’ve always liked the Greeks, but I think she’s my favorite. The Tenth Muse.”
“Ain’t that Anne Bradstreet?”
Sophie smiled and laughed. This perfectly genuine thing that Biana couldn’t look away from.
“That’s The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America. Really, Bradstreet would be the eleventh muse, but I guess they found that too complicated.”
“Yeah, pretty soon they would have a baker’s dozen of muses,” Biana said.
“Who’re the other two?”
“Hm. I think… Mary Shelley and Mary Cassatt.”
“It seems we have an overabundance of Marys, now,” Sophie said.
“Mm, maybe.”
“Oh! Gentileschi!” Sophie exclaimed.
“...Gesundheit?”
“No,” Sophie said on a laugh, “Artemisia Gentileschi. She was an Italian painter. Once, Mom and Dad and I went to Europe, and we saw some of her work, in person , not just… reproductions of it. It was all fantastic. It’s all… it’s always focused on women. And I just really adored it.”
“Well, I s’pose if I ever find myself in Europe I’ll have to hunt for those.”
“Just take me along, I’ll help you find ‘em.”
They kept talking like that, late into the night, until Biana forgot when the conversation started or what she was going to say. Or even that she meant to say anything in the first place.
Biana didn’t know when she fell asleep, or even that she was asleep at all, until she was awoken by the bed shifting weight as she realized she was now alone.
“Sophie?” she croaked out.
“Sorry,” Sophie whispered, “I couldn’t sleep. Everything’s alright, you can go back to bed.”
“Oh. Mmkay,” Biana muttered, swiftly falling back into an easy rest.