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It wasn't a complete downpour, but the rain was definitely unrelenting in how steadily it fell down over the Sinners who made their way up the pathway to the Wuthering Heights manor. Many of them were blinking water out of their eyes as they made their way up the stone-paved path that led through the front yard past those creaky gates. The only person staying dry out of any of them was Dulcinea, who had a particularly disgruntled expression as she huddled as far into the center of her parasol as she could get while avoiding every puddle they came across.
“Would you like to borrow my coat, Catherine?” Penelope had made what Dante thought was a pretty smart move by removing his coat before exiting the bus, and holding it over his head to help block out some of the rain. The act of offering itself was a surprise to them. It was his only departure from donning the rest of the standard uniform. According to him, he had made it entirely himself, which was impressive considering the quality of it. “You're wearing such a nice dress, it would be a shame if it were to get wet in this weather.”
“Oh, pish posh,” Catherine said flippantly, waving away his attempted offer. “I lived on these moors for most of my life. A little rain never deterred me.” Wow, this was... perhaps the most civil Catherine had been in a while. Dante could actually see her being a proper lady in this setting. A spirited young lady of the house who threw propriety to the wind to speed over the grass and into the woodlands in a bout of energy. And yet, as she returned here to the house, she was carrying herself differently. There was a new, unusual refinement to her posture. Like those movies they saw Dulcinea watch on occasion where proper ladies balanced stacks of books atop their heads as they traversed a ballroom. Catherine even had her skirts daintily held aloft in her hands to keep the ruffled edges from dragging across the damp ground as she walked. A far cry from the Catherine they'd seen so far whose hands were more often either covered in oil from helping Dongbaek and Gretchen work on Mephistopheles, or gripping her signature whip as she slashed her way through foes.
<So, this is the place where you grew up,> Dante observed aloud at last. <It's really pretty here. I don't think I've ever seen this much plant life anywhere else in the City.>
“A grand floral field / Full of patches of violet / All about the grounds.” Yuzuki's observations did not go unnoticed. He always did have an eye for colors, almost more attuned than his ability to make up poetry on the fly.
“Yeah, these flower are pretty impressive.” Grete, unmindful of the rain dripping off her hair, leaned over to look at the flowers lining the path. “This is the most color I've seen in one place since we got to this Nest. Almost everything else has been in all these gross sepia tones so far.”
“... Oh, yes.” Catherine looked out over the yard, a wistful look seeming to overtake her gaze. “These flowers... were always father's pride and joy. He never stopped talking about them... It made me a little envious as a child. Even when it came to names, the one he ended up choosing was so much more lovely compared to my own...”
<Oh. What are these flowers called?>
Catherine hesitated again. This was all so unusual for her. She wasn't normally someone prone to so much hesitation. Before they could voice their question, however, another sound came through the rain. As well as a new source of light that cut through the gloom.
The Sinners all looked towards the new disturbance,and found that the front door to the manor had opened. Someone's silhouette cut a stark figure against the light. They appeared to catch sight of the group, as they quickly left the doorway and descended the porch. Not even stopping as they flicked open the umbrella they'd carried out with them as they approached.
As the figure came closer, the person turned out to be a woman in a dark dress with a crisp white apron. Catherine's melancholy suddenly seemed to vanish, and her eyes lit up in recognition.
“Miss Catherine! It is you! You've actually come back!” The woman called out in greeting as she finally came close enough. She stopped right before Catherine, close enough that her umbrella fell over her and stopped the falling of the rain.
“Nelly!!” Catherine threw her arms around the woman, a gesture which was acknowledged with a mild smile and a pat on the back with the woman's free hand. It was so odd. Catherine usually carried herself with a very... well, to put it bluntly, caustic demeanor. And yet right now all that came to mind for Dante was the image of a child who had run up to cling to the skirts of a beloved caretaker.
“Oh, look at you. You came back all dressed up like this and you still don't have the sense to keep yourself from getting wet. I swear, you haven't matured at all. Do you know how many of your dresses I had to patch up because of your recklessness?” The woman with the umbrella chided, like she was scolding an overly indulged child that would nonetheless continue to be indulged. “What am I supposed to do with you?” The woman looked up to the group, and nodded with acknowledgment.
“Oh! Right! Everyone!” Catherine turned back to the Sinners, seemingly only just remembering that the rest of them were still present. “This is Miss Ellen Dean. She's a Butler here in the manor. She looked after me ever since I was little!”
“You can all just call me Nelly!” Nelly herself smiled from behind Catherine. “No need for all the formality!”
“In other words, she was your nanny,” Dulcinea said coolly.
Catherine puffed up a indignantly, but rather than immediately snap back as Dante might have expected, she took in a deep breath, then plastered on a far more placid face.
“Yes. I suppose you could say that,” Catherine gritted through her teeth.
“Aw, look at you, young Miss. You've matured so much since you were off on your travels,” Nelly smiled. “Ah, I'm sorry. I've neglected to greet the rest of our guests. I assume you're the rest of the members of the company who were invited to the manor this evening?”
“Yes.” Gretchen came to the front of the pack as always, unmindful of the rain. “We're the members of Limbus Company. I understand that the Master of the Manor insisted upon speaking to our group specifically, rather than others from a higher-up position.”
“Yes... The master has been expecting all of you... Especially the young lady.” Nelly looked meaningfully at Catherine, and Catherine looked away from her.
This reunion had very nearly not happened at all, seeing as Catherine had tried to duck off into the alleys when they made their little detour. It was only because they'd sent off the doggedly pursuant Grete, Sonya, Queequeg and Kromer that she'd been dragged back in their midst kicking and caterwauling like a banshee. And Grete was still complaining about it when they'd had to do a small rewind of the clock for the small amount of her hair that Catherine had ripped out in the struggle to drag her back.
All for the fear of the contract which had to be fulfilled upon her return to Wuthering Heights.
A promise of marriage to her benefactor who had funded her travels through the City even after she'd joined Limbus Company, stamped and sealed by the Oufi. In search of someone who had run away from something she had said in carelessness.
And now she was back in this place, despite all attempts to find a loophole not to. All because this place's Master had promised their company their sought after Golden Bough only if every member of LCB came to retrieve it. Which meant there was no getting out of Catherine having to return here, and likely to make good on this contractually promised marriage.
Would she be allowed to leave this place with them again, even after the marriage was completed? Before she had completed her goal of finding someone?
It was these very questions that Catherine had tried to run away from, and that Dante knew they had no choice but to ignore in order to obtain their next target.
They wished that there was something they could do. Someone they could ask for advice. But even Vergilius had no wisdom to give, and they had none of their own to fall back on with their nearly vacant memory. So all they could do now was what they'd always done, and try to oversee the course of where things were headed.
“Well, enough of this dourness,” Catherine forced another smile. “Who wants to talk about such silly things? How have things been back at home, Nelly? Have you gotten on alright? I'll bet Josephine is still as ornery as ever.”
“Actually, Miss!” Now it was Nelly's turn to look proud of herself, as she puffed herself up and smiled. “That Josephine is no longer an issue! Now that I'm the proud-standing Chief Butler of Wuthering Heights.”
“You're joking!! You overthrew her?!” Catherine looked utterly delighted at this turn of events. “And here I thought it would take Death or The Head to displace her from her spot. I always thought she'd have to be dragged off her high horse kicking and screaming. How did you manage it?!”
“Well, we almost had to. But as it so happens, the Master of the house got fed up with her nonsense, and decided to allow some... reallocation of leadership roles,” Nelly said tactfully spoke, which let Dante know that no small amount of violence must have been involved. “And when the dust had cleared, I stood up at the top of the pecking order! I think I well enough displayed my proficiency to take the role from her.”
“Oh~ I can only bet Josephine has been positively sore about it.” Catherine was practically giddy as the two discussed the apparent violent restructuring the house's servants had undergone in her absence. Whoever this Josephine was, it was easy for Dante to assume that she wasn't well liked.
“Excuse me.” Dulcinea now spoke up, cutting between the two. The rain had started to come down harder, and she had a disgruntled expression as she tried to huddle even smaller under her parasol as the rivulets of water began to come down more heavily. “If you wouldn't mind, I'd really rather not be out here in the cold all night.”
“Ah! Yes, of course.” Now Nelly just looked embarrassed. “Here. Let's get you all out of the rain, and then we can talk more.”
“Oh, yes! I have to hear how things have been around here? Did you give Josephine one of your 'smacks'? How bruised up was she after?”
Catherine linked elbows with Nelly's umbrella-wielding arm as they led the way up the path to the house, the other Sinners now grateful to get moving and out of the rain.
The foyer was wide and while not much warmer than the outside, being so close to the door, it was at the very least significantly drier. Dante noted the slightly more varied shades of color around the place while they and the Sinners worked to dry themselves off. Dulcinea, the only one of them to get only her shoes wet, stood well away from the rest while they dripped and wrung water out of themselves. Some sidled up to Dante and held their hands and coats as close to the flames coming off their head as they could to try and get rid of some of the damp and cold.
Thankfully, Nelly, who had popped out of the room the moment the doors were closed, quickly returned with a collection of towels. Which were gratefully distributed throughout the Sinners for them to dry themselves off.
“This manor is quite lavish,” Sonya noted as he ruffled his towel over his hair. “Even more than the manor's exterior.”
“Yes. And very well maintained.” Gretchen observed as he looked around the foyer. “Some of this wallpaper looks recently laid. And the woodwork is all polished with little signs of wear.”
“Nelly, did we get new furniture since I was last here?” Catherine asked. She was observing a small decorative cabinet near the door with a cocked head and a slightly furrowed brow. “I don't recognize a lot of these pieces. What happened to the older antiques?”
“Ah, that...” Nelly's expression changed to something else. The closest Dante could place it to was... Discomfort.” “Well, that would be the... new Mistress's influence. Ever since she moved in, she's been in a right tizzy wanting to 'modernize' the manor.”
“New Mis... Nelly!” Catherine's face was positively scandalized. “Did Hindley get married while I was away!? Why didn't you say anything in your letters?! Is that why you were replying to so few of mine recently?! Why wouldn't he have told me?!”
“That, Cathy, would be because not everything in this world stops happening simply because you're not around. No matter what you seem to assume.” This was a new voice, and one whose source was quickly found. A young woman emerged from a hallway at the back of the foyer. She was a pretty, dainty looking creature. Two locks of her golden hair fell in neat little ringlets over her shoulders, and the shape of the silhouette of her hair that fell behind them suggested the rest of it looked much the same. The colors of her dress, unlike the rest of the manor, were very vibrant. Rich shades of voluminous violet fabric fell around her that brought to mind the flowers that they'd left behind in the yard. One arm was resting across her chest, the opposite elbow perched atop the back of her wrist while her other hand daintily dangled an ornate hand fan in the same shade of violet from her fingers. “It's been so long since we last saw each other. How are you doing these days?”
No amount of practiced expressions could hide how utterly soured Catherine's expression became when she laid eyes on this new person.
“
Isabella
. What a...
delightful surprise
to see you here,” Catherine forced out pleasantly from behind her smile.
This 'Isabella' looked past Catherine, to the assembled Sinners who were drying themselves off.
“Ellen. Please make sure that our... 'guests' don't track any mud on the rugs, please. I've just had them brought in.” She spread out that fan with a flick of her wrist, and angled it so the edge just barely brushed the tip of her nose. “And make sure they're properly dried before you bring them in properly. If not for the flowers outside I'm sure they'd stink like the rest of the moors.”
“I was going to see to it, Mistress,” Nelly replied, with far more grace than Catherine had managed.
“You'd better,” Isabella said shortly. She then continued her scan of the room, until her gaze lingered on Dante. Uncertain of what she wanted from them, they raised a hand and waved it unsteadily in greeting.
<Uh...hi?>
“... I hope whatever pet project of yours this is doesn't make that irritating noise the whole time,” Isabella said as she turned her attention away from them. The crinkle around her eyes said even through the fan she held up to herself she was smiling. And they didn't get the sense it was a kind one, either. “In any case, Cathy. It seems all your City-hopping travels haven't given you any time to update your wardrobe. But I'll admit, vintage fashions always did look good on you. You always made them look so... quaint. But I'm sure you don't need to worry. If I know my brother, he'll probably spare no expense to get you whatever kind of dress you want for your wedding. Who knows. Our house is doing so well lately ever since I got married. Maybe I'll be able to loan him some for it if what he has isn't enough. I'd be happy to help you make yourself look good, since it would be for my family's image.”
Oh dear. There was that look in Catherine's eyes again. The one that said she was about to start grabbing someone by the head and wringing their hair out.
However, just as quickly as that look came, it vanished again. And she forced a smile on her face as she touched her gloved fingertips just below her glossed lips. Like a villainess in one of those novels that Grete apparently liked to read. Or Dulcinea when she wanted to look extra condescending.
“Oh, Isabella. How kind of you to worry about me. I just happen to know what I like. But look at you. You've matured so much ever since I was gone. I didn't expect you'd ever manage to find someone who could match you in standards to marry.”
The atmosphere in this room was so brisk you could use it to freeze a glass of juice into a refreshing ice pop. Something which Isabella seemed happy to help drop even a few degrees more with that chilly smile behind her fan.
“Oh yes. My husband is quite the catch. He worked very hard to make himself into a proper gentleman that I was more than pleased to marry. Just like you will, I'm sure.” Isabella fluttered her fan and lashes ever so slightly. “You're marrying exactly at your level by picking my brother for a groom. Looking at you now, and knowing him as I do, the two of you fit each other perfectly.” It wasn't until Isabella had turned on her heel that she finally snapped that fan of hers closed, and spoke to Nelly without so much as turning her head towards her. “Ellen, once they're all suitably dry, please lead them into the sitting room. My husband grows impatient to greet our guests and get this business transaction done already. You know how he hates to be kept waiting.”
“... Yes Mistress. As you say.”
And with that, Isabella lifted one side of her skirts with her free hand, and flounced off with a pronounced clicking of her heels when her shoes left the rugs for the hardwood. Until every trace of violet she carried with her disappeared from view in this house of sepia splendor.
<Well that was... Something,> Dante murmured.
“What a bitch.” Grete was frank but not inaccurate to what was on everyone's mind.
<Catherine, are you al->
Dante had more to say, but stopped when they saw the look on Catherine's face. Color rose in her cheeks, and her fingers curled over until her hands were clenched into fists. A noise of shrill frustration pierced the stunned quiet of the foyer. They saw what was about to happen just before it did, but were helpless to do anything about it. And so, Catherine's foot swung out from under her skirts, striking the nearest ornamental table and sending it twisting into the air.
Ah. There was the Catherine they all knew and tried to not set off.
Nelly, with a quick efficiency that would have put anyone to shame, apparently had anticipated this outburst. As she had deftly swept the vase off of the table before Catherine's foot had even touched the leg. And in the next breath plucked the furniture out of the air so that it never even touched the floor. With both of these items successfully saved from destruction or damage, she was quick to set them both down again back in their proper place.
“Ah, so this is that famous 'efficiency of Butlers' that I heard so much about,” Dulcinea breathed. But anything else she might've had to say was soon drowned out by Catherine's continued outburst.
“That arrogant little shrew!!” Catherine seethed. “Where does she get off thinking she can speak to me that way!?” She turned her fury towards Nelly, who seemed to be accepting this with all the grace of someone observing a toddler's temper tantrum. “Nelly! When did little miss priss grow up to be so uppity? The last I remember, that little pick-me was still trailing off of Linton's coattails! She would've never dared speak to me like that before I left here!!”
“Well... That's the Mistress for you, Miss Catherine,” Nelly sighed. “She tends to do as she pleases these days. And the Master never rebukes her, so there's not much to be done to discipline her.”
Wait, that was right. Hadn't Nelly called her that before? Catherine was just 'Miss Catherine', but this Isabella was being called 'Mistress'?
The pieces all seemed to click together for Catherine in that moment, and the fury was further kindled.
“Nelly you're joking!! Are you telling me Hindley married that?! He could lose the whole of his tongue down the neck of a bottle and I'd still think he had better taste than her!!!”
There it was. That shifty hesitation in Nelly's eyes again. Like there was something she was stopping herself from saying for whatever her reasons may have been.
“It's... A little more complicated than that,” Nelly said slowly. “... I think it's best if you have everything explained to you at once, Miss Catherine.” She turned her attention to everyone else. “If everyone is all done drying off, please follow me. I'll take you to meet the Master of the house, and you'll be able to make all of your arrangements... He invited Sir Edgar here as well, Miss Catherine, so...” So, prepare yourself for having to deal with your promise, was the unspoken thing she left off with.
The rest of the manor was as grand as the foyer. Catherine had mentioned that their family wasn't doing quite as well as they used to, but to what Dante was seeing, that still seemed to be doing pretty darn well. They had half a mind to ask Queequeg to keep a sharper eye on Sonya in case something came together in his mind about all of this when they had a moment to get her attention.
What Nelly finally led them to was a grand sitting room, somehow even nicer than everything else they'd seen so far. The carpets were rich and clearly new, the furniture all comfortable and plush-looking. Isabella stood by the fireplace beside a chair that stood with its back to the door, leaning over the arm as if she were speaking to someone sitting in it. Unlike her prior greeting to them, her posture now was all perfectly sweet and demure. She was playing with one of her ringlets between her thumb and forefinger, barely even acknowledging them entering the room but for a brief flicker of her eyes to let them know she had glanced at them from under her lashes.
“The guests from Limbus Company have arrived,” Nelly announced as the Sinners filed into the room while she stood off to the side of the doorway.
There were two other people they could see in the room.
To one side, a scruffy-looking man had tossed himself over a couch, a bottle in hand with two others rolling about by one of the legs. He looked up with a sullen, hazy expression. With a flush in his cheeks that suggested that the bottles currently occupying his space weren't his only ones for the day.
“Oh, Catherine,” the man slurred as he looked towards them. “Guess you're finally back. Decided you weren't too good for us after all... About time. Here your fiance was thinking you'd just run off on him. Won't he be happy.”
“Hello, Hindley,” Catherine sighed. Clearly she wasn't happy to see him at all. She didn't sound insulted by his dismissive attitude, though. Her expression suggested she was more disappointed than upset. “I'd ask if you were taking care of yourself, but...”
“Oh, don't you worry about your big brother.” Hindley took another swig before he spoke again, smacking his lips to clear the way for his words. “Even if I don't intend to do it for myself, this place's Master has every intention of making sure I don't croak anytime soon.”
A look of confusion crossed Catherine's face, but her attention was diverted by something else. The sound of soft, breathy coughing.
“Ca- -koff- Catherine...” The other man in the room spoke now. A thin, pale gentleman whose chair was a little closer to the fire. He gripped a handkerchief in one fist as he pushed himself up with the other hand. “It's been a while, I-” He suddenly coughed again, dry and painful-sounding. “I've been looking. -krgh- Looking forward to-” He wheezed again, burying his mouth into the silk he was gripping while clearly barely balancing against his chair arm as thin color rose into his face. The only way Dante could describe Catherine's expression was one of deep discomfort mixed with concern.
“Linton,” she greeted softly. “You don't need to get up on my account. Why don't you-”
“Linton, for goodness sakes! Sit down already before you cough up a lung! I don't need you staining another rug with blood from all your nonsense.”
Catherine sucked in a sharp gasp. Isabella, now standing up straight, had that arrogant look return to her face. Aimed directly at Catherine. Linton did as the voice told him, settling back into his seat while his watering eyes glared over the handkerchief he covered his mouth with.
Then, at last, a silhouette rose up from that chair turned towards the fire.
It was a third man. He had long, glossy, deep brown hair which was tied back from his face but for a small amount allowed loose enough to frame his face. His clothes were finely made, less colorful than Isabella beside him, but clearly of a similar level of quality. Isabella herself was quick to move to press herself to his side when he turned around, wrapping one arm around his back and squishing her face up into his shoulder, while his hand came around to rest on the other side of her waist. When she lifted herself up on her toes, she could just reach his face to press a quick but too-obvious peck to his cheek. Which was duly accepted and only acknowledged by a faintly visible squeeze of the hand at her waist.
And he fixed all of them with the deepest, most intense violet stare that Dante had ever seen in their short recollection of life.
Catherine, who all this show was obviously for, was for once speechless. Not out of holding anything back or barebones restraint. It was as if any semblance of vocabulary had fled from her entirely.
“To our esteemed guests,” Isabella said smugly, once again plastered to the man's side. “Allow me to introduce to you your host for the evening, and my beloved husband,” this she said with a blatant glance at Catherine, “Sir Heathcliff.”
“Heath...” Catherine's voice barely croaked out from her throat, only faintly audible. Yet somehow, Dante felt sure this man, this 'Sir Heathcliff' had heard it loud and clear.
“Guess you've finally come back to us after all this time. And yet, now of all times, you've finally got nothing to say after all this time,” Sir Heathcliff said. “Well, I'm not an impolite sort. So I'll do the proper thing and greet all of you. To my guests here from Limbus Company, I'm looking forward to doing business with you, and getting this all arranged proper for this to go smoothly... And to my soon-to-be sister-in law...”
Pain entered Catherine's eyes, more raw than Dante had ever seen even at the moment of her many many deaths she'd endured throughout their journey.
“Welcome home, Cathy.”