Chapter Text
After the Butterflies
It was quiet. Eerily quiet.
Maudeline and Finis looked at one another. They'd barricaded themselves in their bedroom against the wave of corpses. But nothing had pursued them. For a while they'd heard screams and clatters and running footsteps from outside in the square. Those had tapered off eventually, leaving just that quiet.
An hour passed. They did not speak to one another. Every once in a while Finis would twitch open the curtains, just the merest bit, and peek out. He never saw anything worth reporting.
"D'you suppose it's safe?" Finis finally asked as they entered the second hour of sitting in silence in their room, each on their own edge of the bed.
"We've not heard anything lately," Maudeline ventured. "Nor seen anything..."
They looked at one another again. More quiet.
"This entire affair has gone very badly. From the very first," Finis remarked.
"What a truly fantastic understatement," Maudeline replied.
Even comfortable bickering didn't raise their spirits. At the same time they got to their feet, Finis using the small set of steps on his side of the bed. Together they shoved the bureau away from the door. It had been much easier to move when fueled by terror. Maudeline dusted off her hands as Finis very slowly opened the bedroom door. Even more slowly he stuck his head out into the corridor.
Silence. Darkness. That eerie green light was gone. Hesitantly they made their way into the corridor, jumping when the door hinges squeaked behind them.
Two doors down was Victoria's room. The door was open. All just as she'd left it this afternoon before the wedding. Her windows were still barred. It was empty. Both of them frowned. They went to the next door across the corridor. The door to the blue room, the only guest room currently serviceable, was ajar. They peered through the gap into what had lately been Lord Barkis's quarters. This room was just as empty as Victoria's.
"Where have they gone?" Maudeline wondered aloud. Her voice sounded odd and small in the echoing quiet. Finis shrugged. Both of them braced themselves as they tiptoed toward the gallery and the staircase beyond. Everything was still. No skeletons. No corpses. The hall was a dreadful mess, but quiet.
"Just look at this," Finis grumbled as he took in the overturned tables, food all over the floor, broken dishes. Upturned chairs. Front door swinging wide open. "Why if my Grandfather Everglot-"
He broke off his favorite phrase abruptly. Grandfather Everglot hadn't seemed to care much about the state of the place. Finis tried to shake off the memory of his long-dead grandfather waving a sherry glass at him while grinning that skeletal grin. Who were all of those people, and why were they there? Had Victoria been right? Not mad at all, at least not when it came to the dead having risen? Now he felt a trifle guilty about locking her in her room. He was going to say something to that effect, but the words caught in his throat.
Maudeline paled but said nothing. She led the way down the stairs and gingerly stepped across the hall, trying to avoid the shards and food. What a dreadful scene. Chased onto a chair by a skeletal dog. An eyeball dropping into her husband's soup. Chaos as rotting strangers descended on her hall and ruined a social occasion. And reduced Maudeline to screaming and fleeing. Now that some time had passed she was beginning to feel embarrassed. Oh, the cap on a host of embarrassments. She'd never be able to show herself in public ever again. Perhaps their imminent move to the poor house was a blessing in disguise. At least there she'd be anonymous.
"Hildegarde?" she called into the kitchen. "Emil?"
She waited. Nothing. Annoyed, and happy to feel annoyance instead of fear, Maudeline stalked into the kitchen and servants' wing, took a brief look, and then stalked back to the hall.
"They're not here," she informed her husband. Finis was surveying the wreckage of the banquet table. He nudged a stray roast pigeon with his foot. Perhaps the fact that come tomorrow they'd lose the house wasn't all bad. At least the mess would be the bank's problem, not his. A tremendous sense of loss sat heavy on his chest. He cleared his throat.
"Where is Lord Barkis?" he asked. "D'you suppose he and Victoria left?"
A strange silence descended. An uncomfortable one. Both of them were beginning to think that they had, in their desperation, been far too hasty in allowing this marriage. Neither of them had thought too far beyond the wedding and the resulting transaction of ready money. They'd not thought Barkis would take Victoria anywhere. They hadn't any idea where he lived. All they had was Lord Barkis's word about his wealth. His word as a gentleman. They'd not been able to do any proper vetting nor draw up any paperwork. They'd tied up the Van Dorts for weeks with paperwork, and had been comfortable knowing that their daughter would only be moving across the square.
Now guilt was beginning to creep in. Guilt was worse even than fear.
"And did the Van Dorts ever come back?" Finis added. "I don't think anyone has seen them since dawn." Not that he or Maudeline particularly liked them, but it would be a shame and scandal for an entire wealthy family to disappear in the space of a day. And to disappear under circumstances connected with the Everglots, well, that was even worse. What would people say?
"Let us see if Lord Barkis's things are still here," Maudeline suggested. "He'll not have left without his things."
Finis nodded. They went up the stairs and back through the gallery to the blue room. They paused at the slightly open door. At last Finis knocked, just once, before pushing the door the rest of the way open.
The room was cold and dark. The only window was small and looked out over the village wall to the forest. Moonlight slanted through and lit a patch of floor. The top of the dresser and the night table were both clear. A hat and cloak hung from the coat-tree beside the door. The bed was made up neatly.
"He hasn't any luggage," Finis said, glancing about the room. "That's strange."
"He thought he'd only be here for a day," Maudeline told him reasonably. "He forgot the date, don't you recall?"
Finis grumbled, unconvinced. Something felt wrong. A whole lot of somethings, all of which he should have noticed earlier. Had he not been blinded by the sheer hopelessness of his financial situation, the loss of the Everglot home and position in the village, he might have seen that something was odd. With no other options, Finis made for the cloak on the hatrack and started rifling about for pockets.
"You cannot go through his things, Finis," Maudeline hissed, as though someone would hear.
Somehow none of this seemed quite real to her. Her daughter's unfortunate but financially important marriage. Destitution. The poor house. Or at least reduced to moving in with poor relations here in the village. All of it was vague and impossible. Such things did not happen to people like her and Finis. It was not how the world worked. Now all she had to fall back on was decorum and propriety, building a sort of insulating cocoon of position and manners around herself.
"It's my house, he's my son-in-law, I'll do what I must," Finis replied gruffly. Maudeline dithered a little, but did not argue. "Light a lamp, won't you?"
She did so, then stood over him as he went through the cloak. There was one large interior pocket. Finis drew out a page of newsprint, folded small. A leather purse that jingled softly when he picked it up. A large tortoiseshell card-case. He was going to simply put this back, but something made him open it. Mere curiosity?
Maudeline could not help thinking how it was actually rather common to carry so much in one's pockets. And a nobleman traveling without even a valet? Uncertainty laced with dread began to creep up her spine and she fought it back down.
"He certainly has a lot of cards," Finis remarked as he held them closer to the lamp. Maudeline tutted in that way that put his back up.
"Clearly he is in-demand socially," she said, not believing a word she was saying. Then she had to admit, "That is rather a lot, isn't it?" She looked on as Finis flipped through the three compartments, each of which held a thick stack of calling cards.
"And they all have different names," Finis said incredulously. He looked again to be sure he wasn't imagining things.
"What?" Maudeline gasped. She leaned in more closely, not quite daring to touch the cards herself.
There were indeed three separate sets of calling cards. Lord Barkis Bittern, read one, the one they both recognized. C.E. Bunting, read another. And the third set gave the name of George Swift.
Finis's guts were beginning to twist in a bad way. Maudeline was very pale, her mouth set. Holding the case was beginning to make him uncomfortable, so he put it down on the bureau. He slid his hands over the cloak, frowning deeply, just in case he'd missed anything. Hidden in the depths, near a seam, he felt something hard. Hard and square and small and sewn into the lining.
"What on earth?" he asked aloud. He found a gap between stitches and tugged. With difficulty, for the object was a tight fit for its improvised pocket, he pulled it out. The lining only ripped a little. He expected his wife to make a remark, but she did not.
"What is that?" Maudeline asked in a whisper as Finis turned it over in his hands. "A jewelry case?"
Riches befitting royalty, Lord Barkis had said. The words rang in both of their memories. The case was one that a necklace might have come in. Leather, square, rather flat. Filled with trepidation, Finis opened it.
There wasn't much in it. A pair of emerald ear-bobs. A cameo brooch. A gold bangle. A large silver ring set with a stone. All of these sat on a bed of worn green velvet. They both stared for a little while. Maudeline reached for the ring, but just as swiftly drew her hand back, as if her fingers had been singed.
"Finis, what is all this?" she asked. "Why would he carry all this about?" They couldn't be gifts. Mementos? Of that lost fiancee? Perhaps. But why hide them, then? And why carry about three sets of cards? People did not do such things. The hand holding the lamp began to wobble a little, so she set the lamp on the bureau and clasped her hands together.
Finis swallowed. He stared at the jewelry. And he thought what an odd collection it was. And all of it women's. Not a cuff-link or tie-pin in sight. He swallowed again as his skin began to crawl.
"I think Lord Barkis might not be what he claims," Finis said with as much authority as he could muster. Maudeline was too shaken to make any sort of comment about drastic understatement this time. She only nodded, looking a bit sick. Finis closed the box, then picked up the calling card case. He wanted those for evidence when he tracked down their mysterious guest. Not a lot of evidence, in truth. If only the way his hair was standing on end, the heaviness in his chest, could be presented as evidence.
"Oh, Finis, what shall we do?" Maudeline asked. She was genuinely horrified. To have misjudged someone so completely, to be taken in so easily. For people assuredly did not do such things. She could think of no proper reason for carrying cards in several names, nor for hiding a collection of miscellaneous jewelry. Desperation had made fools, and worse, out of the two of them.
Finis was already tucking the box and card case under his arm and moving to blow out the lamp. "We're going to find Lord Barkis," he said gravely. "Or whatever his name is. And we shall ask him about this."
"And find Victoria," said Maudeline, surprising herself. Yes, she was worried for her daughter. Marrying her off to a harmless little boy from across the street had been one thing. Knowing what she did now, who knew what mess Victoria could be in.
"Indeed," agreed Finis. If she is alive, said a dark part of his brain and he shut it up immediately.
Back downstairs they went, not speaking nor looking at one another. Their faces were a grim matched set. They stepped out into the night without any idea where to start looking. The square was very quiet. Only a few windows were lit. No sign of anyone, living or dead. With no servants, they were reduced to having to ask about with the neighbors and their relatives and hope that someone had seen something. That someone had a clue where Barkis and Victoria had gone.
It was getting cold. The moon was moving, leaving the square in shadows. Other villagers were trickling in, heading to their houses. Where had they been? Had the dead retreated? Their relatives did not even look their way. Perhaps they were too far in shadow to be seen.
And then there she was. Victoria. The white of her wedding gown glowing in the moonlight.
"Finis, look," whisper-shouted Maudeline.
"I see her, I am not blind," he said gruffly.
They could both see their daughter well enough indeed. She appeared to be in one piece. It was also clear that she was not on her new husband's arm. She was on Victor Van Dort's. Both of them breathed in sharply. And Maudeline even more sharply still as they watched the Van Dort boy escort their daughter up the steps to the Van Dort house, usher her in, and close the door behind them.
Both of them opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but they were drowned out by the town crier's bell. He was coming back through the gates, ringing his bell and calling out a new headline.
"I thought he wasn't allowed to do eleven o'clock bulletins anymore," said Finis, and Maudeline shushed him.
"The dead have retreated back to their graves! Mysterious newcomer no longer with us! Victor Van Dort alive!"
Maudeline's mouth was making a perfect "o" of shock. Finis's mouth hung open. The crier wasn't ringing with his usual aplomb. His air was businesslike and subdued. He cried only those three sentences around the square a few times, then tucked away his bell and made off into the night.
"No longer with us?" Maudeline repeated. "What on earth does that mean?"
Finis looked down at the jewelry case and card box and replied, "That he's no longer our problem, I suppose."
"And Victoria?" asked Maudeline. A slew of sentences crashed about in her mouth and she couldn't quite let any of them loose. We cannot allow her to be alone with that young man! We must get her an annulment at once! The scandal! Everything she would usually say was petty and silly in these circumstances, even to her own ears.
"Let us call upon them and hear the news," Finis said slowly. He looked up at the imposing stone of his family home. The seat of the Everglots for generations. And he'd lost it.
"If nothing else," he continued, "we must vacate the bank's house."