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Lockwood has felt antsy all evening. Or at least, he’s felt this way ever since Lucy met him outside 35 Portland Row, under the greenish glow of a ghost lamp, in front of their cab to the Fittes at 50 Ball. Ever since she looked him up and down and asked–semi-uncomfortably–why George wasn’t coming along with them. Lockwood doesn’t often feel the need to justify himself, but he did then, and oddly enough, he still does now, hours later.
The antsiness continued to Lucy telling him about Kipps asking her out–an affair that left him feeling all the wrong kinds of breathless–and it continued to… continue, for the lack of a better word.
He needs Lucy to like him, to want to be around him as much as he’s been wanting to be around her lately. It’s a strange feeling. Maybe he’ll talk to George about it later.
It might be nice to sort out whatever these feelings are with somebody else. Maybe even get some guidance on what he can do to fix himself because this is bordering on ridiculous.
Or he can keep it to himself.
Whichever works.
Currently, he and Lucy are in the Black Library, backs pressed against opposite bookshelves to keep themselves out of plain sight as Penelope Fittes walks in with another man. They’ve got Dulac’s diary, which is what they came for, but this is certainly an unexpected annoyance. Lockwood looks over to Lucy. She keeps peeking out from her bookshelf to get a better sense of whatever Penelope Fittes and the other man are doing. Lockwood can tell that she’s cataloging the information somewhere in the recesses of her brain and iterating through various outcomes of how this could end all at once. She’s truly fantastic like that, objectively speaking.
A lock clicks, and Lockwood hears one of the room’s glass cases open up. What is Fittes doing? He leans closer to get a better look, and he can tell that Lucy’s doing the same thing. Fittes give the man a box–something she must have lifted from the case–before saying her goodbyes and walking out.
It’s a short-lived comfort, though, because the man finds Lockwood’s map nearly instantly. The map, Lockwood scolds himself, how did I forget to take the goddamned map?
This isn’t good. Actually, it’s rather disastrous.
They need to go.
We need to go, he mouths to Lucy.
She nods.
The thin screech of a rapier being drawn from its scabbard rings out, and Lockwood and Lucy separate further, peeling off to opposite sides of the room. Maybe they can catch the man from behind. Maybe they can–
“In a hurry?” the man asks, and Lockwood can’t possibly reply. After all, there’s a blade centimeters from his jugular.
“Easy, now,” the man continues. “You wouldn’t want my blade to slip. It’s very sharp.” Lockwood gulps and stares down the blade at his throat. It’s gold, or gold-plated at the least. Strange.
He opens his mouth to reply, but before he has the chance to say anything, Lucy emerges from the opposite bookshelf.
“Anthony,” she giggles, leaning against the edge of the shelf. Lockwood gapes. “What are you doing over there?” She sways a bit as she says it, and she’s got a lazy smile on her face. Lockwood notes that she’s mussed her hair a bit. She looks rather thoroughly drunk, which Lockwood knows for a fact she isn’t. Honestly, he hasn’t got the faintest clue what’s going on right now, but he’s hoping he can trust Lucy to get them out of this.
“I…” Lockwood trails off.
Lucy’s eyes unfocus for a moment, then refocus on the blade. Lockwood didn’t even know that was something that could be done at will, but either Lucy’s an impeccable actress, or she’s managed to get plastered in the last thirty seconds.
“Jesus Christ, Anthony, is that a–” she cuts herself off to hiccough, “a rapier?” She grips the edge of the bookshelf more tightly and looks around as though she’s scared of something. “Are there ghosts here or something?”
Lockwood clears his throat. He’s not sure quite what to say. If he knows one thing, it’s that he’ll probably ruin whatever Lucy has going if he decides to speak.
Lucy turns her attention to the man. “ Are there ghosts here?” she asks in a low voice. “We just came up here to get away, but we’ll get right out if you’re ridding the place of ghosts.”
The man with the golden blade–perhaps it might be easier to simply refer to him as Golden Blade–falters. For a moment, it looks like he’s falling for Lucy’s act.
“Why were you two in here?” he asks, narrowing his gaze.
Lucy grins conspiratorially and giggles again. “You’ve never gone off to snog at a party?”
Lockwood feels his cheeks heat up. He goes deathly still. There’s no way I heard that right. Golden Blade stiffens, too, but he doesn’t let up. “And how did you two get in here?”
“Someone was walking out, and the room looked rather private enough. I guess we just slipped in.”
Golden Blade nods. “So, you randomly came upon this room? No aid from your map?” To make it all the more clear to them, he holds up the map so that both Lucy and Lockwood can see it. Well, shit.
Lucy cocks her head. “Map?”
“Don’t play stupid with me.” Golden Blade turns to Lockwood. “And why haven’t you said anything? Cat’s got your tongue?”
Lockwood closes his eyes, forces himself to play along, and clears his throat again. “It’s a bit hard when there’s a blade at my neck.”
“Are you two agents?”
“ Agents?” Lockwood forces a laugh. “Can you believe that, Darling? He thinks we’re agents!” Inwardly, he cringes at calling Lucy Darling (not that it isn’t something he’s secretly given a lot of thought to). He just doesn’t want Golden Blade to know her name.
Lucy lets out a snort, and Lockwood can’t tell if it’s part of her drunken character or if she’s making fun of his acting skills. Neither option would surprise him.
“Whoever gave you this map worked here.”
Lockwood raises his eyebrows. “Really, mate. We’re not sure what you’re talking about.”
“So, this map doesn’t belong to you?”
Lockwood shakes his head vigorously.
“And you aren’t agents?”
“Right on,” Lockwood says, “just party guests.”
There’s a stretch of perfect silence where Golden Blade appears to be considering. He doesn’t lower his rapier, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to advance either. Lockwood finds himself holding his breath and wonders if Lucy is doing the same. He doesn’t dare look over at her, though. Better to stay focused on the Golden Blade and his deliberations. It’s all Lockwood can do not to grab the large tome displayed on his right and attempt to disarm Golden Blade. This whole encounter thus far has been set up as more than just a quick escape. Still, Lockwood can’t help but want to fight and run.
That seems like his most common course of action: fighting and running. It’s far easier than waiting to see how things turn out.
After a moment, Golden Blade drops his sword to his side. He doesn’t sheathe it, but it’s a near thing.
“Right.” He doesn’t sound like he fully trusts them; maybe he’s still wondering if they’re lying to him. “I should get you back to the party, then. This room is quite off-limits.”
“And we’re dreadfully sorry for that,” Lucy chimes in.
“We didn’t mean any trouble,” Lockwood adds.
“Right,” Golden Blade repeats. Lockwood gestures toward the door, indicating for Golden Blade to lead the way, but instead, he grabs Lockwood’s arm, with a bit more force than is probably necessary. Dulac’s diary burns against Lockwood’s chest as Golden Blade shoves him toward Lucy. Real charmer, he is.
Lucy stumbles toward him, keeping up the act of a drunken party-goer with a shocking amount of skill, and holds his shoulders to steady herself.
“Well, hello there,” she says with a sparkle in her eye, “reckon we can pick up where we left off somewhere else?”
Lockwood smiles down at her and ignores the hammering in his chest. “Absolutely.”
“This way,” Golden Blade interrupts. “It’s back to the party for you two. You can figure out your… business elsewhere.”
“ Business,” Lockwood muses, “I rather like that one. Don’t you, Darling? We’ll get on with our business elsewhere.”
Lucy flushes red and laughs, and this time, Lockwood is certain that it’s at his expense. Whatever. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her laugh this much in such a short period of time, and really, it’s a wonderful sound, so he’ll take it.
“Can you get back on your own, or do you need an escort?” Golden Blade asks.
“We’re more than fine by ourselves,” Lockwood replies with a wry grin. He winks at Golden Blade, and just like that, he and Lucy are free to go.
Once they’re safely outside of the Black Library and a good fifty paces away, Lockwood turns to Lucy.
“What the hell was that, Luce?” He runs a hand through his hair. “And really? Anthony?”
“Darling?” Lucy shoots back, quirking an eyebrow. “ Darling?”
“It was…” he trails off and gestures vaguely with his hands as though that completes his explanation. “I thought it’d be better if he didn’t know your name.”
“Oh,” Lucy replies. “I suppose that was smart, then.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and Lockwood wonders if she’s feeling cold. He’s about to do something stupid, like offer her his jacket or something, but she continues speaking. “Do you think he believed us?”
“Maybe a bit, but he’s definitely suspicious. We should probably get out of here.”
“What if he follows us?”
Lockwood scans the room. “It’d be a good idea to stage a diversion, then.” He reaches to pull the salt alarms, but Lucy grabs his hand.
“Careful, Lockwood,” she whispers, leaning in close to him. “People might be watching.”
“Yeah?” he replies with a smile, “what kind of people?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Lucy says, “just the man from the Black Library.” She very pointedly looks up at a spot just over Lockwood’s left shoulder. As inconspicuously as he can, he follows her gaze. Sure enough, there Golden Blade is, looking down at them from a landing.
“Well, there’s a conundrum,” Lockwood replies. “What do you suppose we should do about it?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
Neither of them says anything for a moment. Lucy is probably planning again, but Lockwood works best on his feet. He pauses for a moment, loosens his tie, and takes a step closer to Lucy.
“You know, Luce, public displays of affection make people quite uncomfortable.”
“You’re right, Lockwood, they do,” she replies stiffly. She’s likely still deep in thought. Surely, she doesn’t understand what Lockwood is trying to imply. Maybe he should just come up with another plan.
He surveys the area once more to find Kipps watching them, and though he’d hate to acknowledge it, that’s what makes up his mind.
“What do you say we get down to business, Luce?” he asks with a soft chuckle. “If that’s alright with you.”
Somehow, that’s what breaks her out of her stupor. “What?”
“Last I checked, Golden Blade has a certain… idea of what we should be doing about now.”
“Golden Blade?”
Lockwood sighs. His mental nickname for the man from earlier is the least of his concerns right now. “The man from the Black Library. His rapier was gold or gold-plated or something. That’s really not what’s important.”
“Of course.” Lucy nods as though it were obvious.
“So, is it alright with you?” He looks down at Lucy’s lips. In complete honesty, it’s not the first time he’s done it, but given the circumstances, he’s being less subtle than he’s been in the past.
“Is what alright with me?”
“Can I kiss you?” he asks breathlessly.
“Oh,” Lucy replies, eyes wide. “ Oh.”
“Is that a no?”
“No!” she says. Lockwood moves to take a step backward, but Lucy takes him by his tie and pulls him closer. “No, it’s not a no. I mean–”
She cuts herself off by kissing him.
And not to echo Lucy, but, oh.
Oh.
For a fraction of a second, Lockwood feels like his brain has gone and shut off, but quickly, he shuts his eyes and remembers that he has to kiss back. There’s some indescribable feeling pooling deep in his stomach, and all he can think of is how much he likes kissing Lucy. It’s not his first kiss, but it’s his first kiss that’s made him feel anything. Maybe that’s significant.
Lucy’s tongue darts across his lips, and the kiss deepens. Lockwood pushes Lucy against the wall, arms wrapping around her. She’s got a hand in his hair. They’re a tangle of limbs, and Lockwood can’t get enough of it. He can’t get enough of her.
That’s why he has to put a stop to it. If he doesn’t stop now, he doesn’t know if he ever will. And the kiss isn’t even real. Isn’t that embarrassing?
He reaches a hand behind Lucy’s back, and to any passerby, it likely looks like he’s reaching to undo the back of her dress or something. He’s not, of course. Undoing her dress, that is.
He gropes at the wall for a moment before finding the lever to the salt alarm and pulling down hard.
The lights dim to a blue-violet hue and salt starts spraying down from the ceiling in glittering waves. Everything turns the color of Lucy’s dress, and if that doesn’t sum up Lockwood’s whole brain right now, he’s not sure what does.
The whole scene is kind of beautiful, aside maybe from the growing sentiment of panic.
He turns to Lucy, grins, and the two of them make their move for the exit. On the stairs, Lockwood glances up at the burgeoning chaos and sees Kipps, still watching him and Lucy from a landing. It’s too dark to see his exact expression, but his mouth is hanging open, and his eyebrows are pinched together. Lockwood wonders if it’s because he saw Lockwood and Lucy kissing, and since Lockwood can’t resist, he shoots him a wink before continuing down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, he turns to Lucy. “This party’s dead,” he says, “want to ditch it with me?”
“Absolutely,” she replies, but there’s something guarded in her expression. Lockwood tenses. Maybe Lucy didn’t like kissing him nearly as much as he liked kissing her. Maybe she can tell how much Lockwood liked it and she’ll start to distance herself from him. He makes a half-hearted move to touch her shoulder, as if to congratulate her on a job well done with the night’s mission, but stops halfway. Out of nowhere, he’s a wreck.
Lockwood is jerked out of his spiral by Lucy’s hand on his wrist. He looks down at it and then up at her.
“Come on, then,” she says, tugging him lightly. He nods and follows her lead all the way outside. There’s no time for catastrophizing now. They’ve got to meet George and Flo at the Thames for Winkman’s auction. Maybe after all of this is over, Lockwood will be able to talk to George about all of this. If he’s feeling especially brave, maybe he’ll even be able to talk to Lucy about it.
Either way, he’ll deal with it.