Archive of Our Own ^beta

A gush of warm air made it past the window into the room. It wrapped around her cold feet, whirling around the seam of her loosely tied nightgown. She acknowledged it as a momentary change of the weather condition, but no more. Her loose hair fell around her face, uncombed and dirty. She looked in the distance, past the high trees of their property, all too weary to care. 

The big house she lived in with her brother was silent. Her sleeping room was in the first floor, her brother’s a couple of rooms further away. The manor, comprising five bedrooms, three guest rooms, a large living/dining space, a library, four bathrooms, four offices – of which one with a billiard table – a vast kitchen, a vaulted cellar, a laundry, two terraces with balconies, and a separate adjoining garage, was completely still. Not that she bothered. She had come to appreciate introspective solitude as a therapeutical companion when she wasn't able to communicate her feelings. She enjoyed the luxury of extracting herself from the world, all to her thoughts and blues. 

When silence threatened to overwhelm her and she needed another source of soothing, she turned to music; it helpt her stay sane and catch up with reality. Already as a child she would spend hours listening to classical pieces on the piano, whole orchestras and concertos. At times when she needed simplicity, she went out in search for the sounds of nature and the rain, the wind, the sun managed to calm her down. She had grown to be quite sensitive to the echo of life itself, so when she felt at a loss she would find solace in the present moment, focussing on the force within her and letting go of the negative thoughts that so easily settled on a weak mind.

In comparison her brother James had always polished his outstanding arrogance to the outer world. So in times of hardship his methods were not as subtle as hers. On the contrary, the more violently he expressed his despair, the better he seemed to distract himself from the abyss of misery his actions drowned him in. Unfortunately his soothing was short-lived as the comfort he found in drinking, sniffing coke and whoring around until oblivion didn’t hold for long. She understood his need for grief and she let him have his share of sadness, but she couldn’t afford the luxury of a long mourning. There was life growing in her belly, a secret she would die for if necessary. She was running out of time, even if she stood at the beginning of a long journey. Soon it will show. And she couldn’t make it without James, not when she needed him to face their father together as a unified front.

She could no longer let him go to waste without taking further action. So after a while, she tried to motivate him to do something else than cry or party and instead find comfort in everyday activities, such as taking a walk in the park or listening to his favourite songs, trying to get him back to a life of insouciance and letting go. He would sneer at her and despicably ignore her pleas. Late into the night, he would pace his room, drink vodka, and lament his fate until, at dawn, he would finally collapse unconscious on the carpet in front of his bed, numb from alcohol and tears. One room between them as buffer was not enough to be deaf to his heartbreaking whining, but she had come to make the decision, though terrible and cruel for some, to choose herself and her babies, and Graham, over her brother.

She sighed, her heart constricting at the thought of the man she loved and the father of their unborn children. It was unfair to leave him in the dark, but the less he knew, the better for now. It wasn’t an option to contact him although she rehearsed every day their possible conversation. But what could he do? Nothing. She still wanted him to be part of her life but she couldn’t fathom any other alternative than to push him away in order to protect him. The sad irony of the situation didn’t escape her. She knew she had broken his heart and she, too, was suffering. Having to sacrifice her affection to him in order to keep their secret – secrets – safe, was tragic, and there was not a day she wouldn’t think of a way to meet him somehow. Right now it was even more difficult to keep focused on her goals. But the risk of stirring up gossip was too big. She didn't want to imagine to which extents her father would go and which atrocities Graham would have to endure, should he ever find out. It was imperative she kept a low profile, even if it meant avoiding Graham in the public. And so he still wrote occasionally, sending her his support in those difficult times, but she remained distant. They had to keep away from any scandal if they were to succeed in their respective lives.

She shivered. It wasn’t that cold but she had frozen toes. Shifting positions in her armchair, she noticed the low hum drum of little ants marching in her head. Wonderful. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough, now she had a headache. And she knew its origin. She needed a plan. Hiding from her father would help only that much. For now, she could still hide her growing belly under larger garments but the day would come when she wouldn’t be able to and would have to prioritize, choose sides, and confront the men in her family. She hoped her brother would support her, after hearing the news, but she couldn’t be sure. Worst case scenario she would end up all alone in life, struggling maybe, but hopefully free. Until then, she bathed in the luxury of grieving while all her needs were tended to. Apart of Lucia the housekeeper, Jeffrey the cook and Percy the driver, the house felt shallow and empty. Their ghostly presence was all they could afford to be, as they were not allowed to be intimate with the member of the family. She knew they grieved too, and for that she was genuinely thankful to them. She could see from their looks, the way they nodded when she passed them by. But as far as her mourning was concerned, she was left alone, and she had to manage on her own. 

She considered the branches rustling in the trees, gently touched by the breeze. She let her gaze rest on the cedars and the old oaks. Marvellous what her father had designed, every single tree planted according to his desires. Controlling every living being on the grounds. All the more curious, the flower arrangements and the romantic rose garden, reflecting his will of a romantic vision, stating he wanted to create a natural space where his wife could relax while his children played safely. It had been a long time since they had been allowed to go there where their mother used to find peace away from her demanding duties as the heiress to the tailor empire. Caressing her belly absentmindedly, she wondered if her children would grow one day to run in those gardens.

She sighed, watching a couple of doves fly by. They landed on the roof above her room and cooed as loudly as if they were right in front of her on the railing of her small balcony. Trip-trap, trip-trap, they were moving along on the tiles. She glanced at the ceiling-high windows and the curtains which folds, in their ephemeral dance, cast golden and red shadows on the parquet floor. Her mother had chosen them specifically convincing her daughter they would give her room just the right amount of grandeur to support her creative ambitions.

She had found liking in fashion and had been very creative in the past, but now that her anchor in life was gone, she didn’t feel like being productive in any artistic kind of way anymore. No one had really supported her anyway, other than her mother. And it wasn’t James, who was busy fighting his own demons in his own battles, or her father whom she felt she could seldom trust, to whom she would turn to in her hour of need, not when she wanted to show vulnerability and seek comfort. Her father was very good at taking but much worse at giving.

She sighed, drew one knee up, and hugged it. She rested her head on it and looked at the smartphone on her desk – a gift from her mother for her sixteenth birthday. She considered which song to play next and decided on shuffle. She pressed play and inserted her earbuds. The only sounds she heard now filled directly her mind, blissfully underlying the static of her motionless life. 

Music told stories it was easy to get lost into. Its pure magic was a heaven’s gate to a spirit’s healing. She could totally immerge herself in it, identifying with the melody and the lyrics. Music was able to soothe her aching soul a bit. She looked out following the mischievous wind playing hide and seek in the branches. How would it feel to be that free?

The music went on for a while, but stopped at the end of the album, and so did the precious respite it had given her. Too soon for her liking, but she didn’t take her ear pods out. Instead, she concentrated on the sounds inside her head, the rush of blood in her veins and her dully throbbing headache. Her eyes squinted at the clock on the secretary to her right, a rare object her mother had found at an antique dealer's, built of delicate red cherry wood. It said: the big hand on 12, the small one on 1. At the end of the floor a long gong echoed from the deep insides of the grandfather clock. She could sense how the dark bass sound infiltrated every cell of her body, giving it some substantial matter to stick on, if only for a moment. It was comforting to know that it was still there, an old friend she used to look at in awe as a child, gaping at its big weighs going up and down in the encasement behind the glass door.

Her mother had always set the time right. She held the key to the lock on a chain, around her neck. She used to say it was her very sacred duty to look after the clock, make sure its mechanics worked properly, and readjust time whenever the wheels slowed down. She used to say that one day her own daughter would inherit the privilege of the key, and just like a vestal virgin, pure and powerful, she would be entrusted with that holy responsibility. And so had little Lydia marvelled the possibility of turning back time or accelerating it to her desire. She had spent hours sitting on the carpet on the floor, mesmerized by the big hands moving forward, inexorably. She had waited for that fine moment where the hand of the seconds would stop, and wondered if the world would stop too.

How naive she had been, back then. How naive she wished to be, still. But there was nothing one could do to undo things. Grief was hard but necessary. It meant you paid respect to the dead. And listening to music while being carried away into unknown worlds was exactly her way of dealing with the loss of her mother. Doing nothing but being with herself, something she hadn’t practised for a long time now, was just the right thing to do. She wanted peace, she needed closure and she definitely needed a break from her incessant carousel of mindfuck...!

She pressed the triangle on her smartphone and music started to play again. The piece Saturn, from the band Sleeping At Last, reminded her of her sadness and she relished drowning into it. With a sigh, she let her head fall onto the back of the wide armchair, forgetting about her headache for a while.

The melody, characterized by indie-rock, folk and orchestral sounds, was the perfect companion for her now. The introductory sequence was a long arrangement of chords, inviting the spirit on a journey through the skies. Sometimes all it took was a note, a sound, a scent, or a smile, to trigger a memory and breach the dam of sorrow in one’s soul.

You taught me the courage of stars before you left
How light carries on endlessly, even after death

The first tears started to spill. She looked in the distance, the music filling her up, carrying her mind away.

She let them fall. They ran along her cheeks, under her chin, falling, pooling together on her chest and wetting her nightgown. Cold, lonely, lost. She didn’t care. Eventually, they would dry off.
But her mother, she would never come back.

A sudden wave of nausea overcame her. She looked frantically around and her eyes fell on the little dustbin by her desk. No! She took her ear pods out and threw them on the desk. She jumped out of the chair and crossed the room in a few long strides. She jerked the door open and ran to the adjacent bathroom, luckily empty. She knelt down, raised the toilet lid and held her hair back with one hand before bending over and gagging into the gaping hole in front of her.

It was only bile as she had had no breakfast in the morning. Not that she had been really hungry, those last days anyway. Just thinking of food getting down her throat made her instinctively throw up once more. She gasped, still holding onto the toilet, anticipating a third time, but it seemed her stomach was done. Relieved her body had called for a truce, she stood up and flushed. She hadn’t counted on that natural side effect of the pregnancy so soon. She would need to be very cautious at school.

She turned around and glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the double sink, feeling miserable. And, duh, she looked miserable. Not only did her hair fall dully, her lips lacked their usual gloss and her eyes lay far remote into their sockets, dark circles surrounding them. Her freckles looked more defined through the pallor of her skin. She was a total mess. But for what it was worth, her headache seemed to vanish slowly.

Sighing deeply, she resigned herself to taking a shower. Not that she had any intentions to get out, but at least a bit of fresh water on her skin and in her mouth to get rid of the sour taste of vomit would do her good. She took a deep inhale and opened the faucet. Steam came out of the pommel. She discarded her clothes on the floor and stepped into the shower. Closing her lids she moaned at the feeling of water purifying her body. She stayed there until the skin of her fingers went all wrinkled and numb. Eventually she turned the water off and opened the cabin door to long for the fluffy towel hanging outside, in the chillness of the room. Her nipples ached of the sudden loss of warmth. She quickly closed the door and dried herself up. Finally she stepped outside and passed on the spongy bathrobe that hung behind the bathroom door. She wrung a smaller towel around her hair to soak in most of its humidity.

She had always worn her hair long. It defined her and the older she had grown the more feminine she had become and she had come to appreciate her long hair as an emphasis to her curvaceous silhouette. She opened a drawer and took the hair dryer with nozzle extension. Incredible how practical that little add-on was! Where she used to monopolise the bathroom up to one and a half hour sometimes, it took her only twenty something minutes to get her hair dry now. She produced a little smile at the memory, because those were the little things she had shared all along with her mom, as girls. She loved her brother, of course, but there was just something different being around women that men would never understand. 

Her smile tugged at the corner of her eyes as she remembered the sleepover at the Bell’s. After James had managed to break Ruby’s heart with his senseless actions, it had been Ember who had contacted her for this spontaneous little pyjama party. “Bring your pillow, your toothbrush, and your most indecent night outfit!” the message had read.

It had been so easy to be around the Bell’s daughters, so natural. They were so incredibly uncomplicated and sweet. Ember was the rougher one, but Ruby was no less tough. Ember had sent a message for that night in particular as their parents had gone sleeping out, celebrating their belated wedding anniversary. It had been a chance in a million to make it happen, and as the Beaufort’s mansion was an absolute no-go with James ghosting around and her father being so unpredictable, she had just pretended to have a break and, needing some time with a friend, had written Alistair she would come by, using him as her cover. The Ellington children were brats, save for the little brother, Alistair, who happened to be very gay and very fond of the Beaufort kids, in return. She assumed her beautiful brother, strong and brimming with self-confidence, had been Alistair’s first crush. Of course James knew of his best friend’s sexual orientation but he didn’t judge. There were still times when Alistair meant to check up on James with a special glimmer in his pupils, thinking no one was observing him. But far from it...! Lydia had a radar for that sort of things, and she knew when James aroused envy or desire. It was palpable like syrup and the heat in the air intensified at once.

She licked her lips, studying her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look bad either. She had a fairer complexion than him, green-blue eyes matching both her father’s and mother’s, and a darken copper hair that looked absolutely ravishing on her. She was tall for a woman and knew how to style herself to look either business like, or business casual, or simply casual. She had learnt to use her glamour as a part of her armour. She had the skills to blend in if needed. Soldiers wore mesh on their clothing and black and green camouflage on their faces. She had been taught to feel at ease in Chanel, Westwood or Gaultier dresses, whatever occasion aroused. And where a gun could kill in battle, she was still learning to sharpen her tongue to win with glory any argument against her father. But she knew the truth deep down inside: he favoured her little brother.

James was naturally blessed with piercing blue eyes and strong blond hair. The discovery of lacrosse and the training to become team captain had also had a positive effect on him. They had gone for a swim last summer and if he hadn’t been her brother, she too would have fallen in love with him. He played tough because it was the role their father had hammered into his mind, relentlessly. But she knew too much about the boy behind the man, and as good as he loved to parade in front of others, he was not devoid of emotions or creativity. She knew he loved to draw. He had a good eye for certain... models.

She sighed. Seeing him flirt with Ruby had been something new. That girl had been the first to stand up to him, seeing behind the facade and dismissing his wannabe manly manoeuvres as childish boyish defensive strategies, grounding him, and knowing how to tease out his nice, friendly, gentle side.
Seeing him that willingly opening to strangers had been a first in a long time. Since being a young teen, actually. 

Yes, that little person was quite someone.
“Ruby Bell...” She whispered, an inch away from the mirror, enjoying the rolling of her tongue in her mouth and the tingling sensation in her stomach. It looked as if she might throw up again, but that time, it felt different. Her warm breath coated the cold surface for a moment before vanishing slowly.

“Ruby Bell...”, like a magical spell, cast in the shadows, not knowing what effect it produced, either permanent or temporary. Like a promise.

Lydia let her lips curl up on one side. A half smirk? Really? That brunette girl was truly a witch if she could cast smiles on the Beaufort children as easily. And why not? Ruby was a wonderful person.

Lydia took a deeper inhale at the recollection of their night of fun and deep emotions, thanks to Lin’s mom’s idea of the flying lanterns. She cocked her head and looked outside the window past the shower. The sun was still high and the day was still young. She smiled a bit wider now. She checked the alarm clock in the bathroom on the little shelf behind the mirror. It was almost two o’clock. Her father was still at the club house where he would stay until late afternoon and James was bathing in self-pity. There was nothing she could do for them. And most of all, there was nothing they could do for her. 

At the thought of her deceased mother, Lydia felt tears rose in her eyes again. She decided to swallow them down and instead, bit her lip, took her things and opened the door to walk back to her bedroom. There, she threw her nightgown on the bed, keeping her bathrobe on, and went to the sideboard to retrieve a pair of briefs. She pulled the laces of the bathrobe tighter around her waist and went to sit down at her vanity. Foundation in hand, she started applying the texture on her skin, bringing it to life, layer after layer. Eye shadow, mascara, eyeliner, rouge and lipstick – within ten minutes of proficient work, she was done. It was decent and simple, not too much, but quite nice. She looked at herself, and nodded appreciatively. Then she took a brush and combed her hair. She twisted it in a perfect bun and pinned it on the back of her head. She adorned it with a dark blue net, like a ballerina’s. Cocky.

Satisfied with the result, she stood up and sashayed to the adjacent en-suite wardrobe to examine her outfits in search of something fitting for the occasion. It took her some time, but she finally found the perfect ensemble. After that, she went to the open cupboard in the middle of the room where many different little bottles had pride of place on a podium like flight of stairs. She studied the flacons and it took her some time to decide. She wanted something – memorable – but also something – new. She extended her arm and let it hover over her collection of phials. She hesitated. She had never used this one before... but she had tried it once. She darkly remembered it to be quite the hit. Lydia swallowed and took the black couture labelled bottle in her hand to spray a few times her bosom and neck. The perfume came in musky notes subtly blending with a spicy accord dominated by a duo of cinnamon and cardamom. This accord was accompanied by a soft amber accent that was reflected in the dark copper content of the flask. She was a bit lightheaded at first, but very soon she adopted the new scent as part of herself. Maybe this Ambre Nuit of Christian Dior would turn into her favourite? Delighted by her choice, she finally passed her clothes on and the matching pair of low-heeled glossy Mary-Janes from Carel, Paris. 

She took her LV handbag, left the room in an elegant cloud of French perfume, and crossed the house from one end to the other. After a last look-over at herself in the tall mirror of the vestibule, she finally met Percy outside by the garage. It was warm and the driver wore only his buttoned-up shirt, his jacket resting inside the garage. He was polishing the car with a rag and peered up at his young mistress as soon as the clacking of her shoes could be heard on the pavement. He straightened up, packed the piece of cloth away and put his jacket back on to get into the car, as Lydia was already inside. A glance at the rear mirror and a smile of young Miss Beaufort got him started.

“Where are we heading at?”

As Lydia gave him the directions, he had the decency to widen his eyes just that much. He nodded curtly and engaged the car out of the yard into the alley.

°+°+°+°

The bell chimed.

 “Are we expecting visitors?”

Helen looked up to answer her daughter, dough clinging to her fingers. “Not that I know of, and certainly not at this time of day.” The clock above the back door ticked monotonously and steadily, seemingly undisturbed by the warm afternoon heat.

“Half past two in the afternoon. Too late for lunch, too early for tea.” Angus rolled around the kitchen island and poked his finger into the chocolate ganache his wife was preparing. “Mhmmm... tasty... I guess you spoil your customers more than your old hubby... Which is your job, and that's why I love you and trust you, my precious dahlia.” He smiled beneath his beard.

Helen bent down to kiss him, a warm smile garnering her lips. “My lovely bear...”

The door chimed again. They looked at each other in turn, expecting the other one to move. 

“Okay, okay, I'm going already...!” Ember exhaled loudly while dragging her feet dramatically. She made a comedy out of it but she grinned all the way to the entrance.

She loved her parents. They never missed an opportunity to exhibit their love, whether the audience was ready for it or not. Since the accident, they had experienced firsthand how precious every single day was. It was a miracle they still had each other. However it felt sometimes embarrassing because she was single and she wanted that kind of love too. 

She had turned nineteen in January, and she was ready to meet the love of her life. But the boys she ran into at her high school were still babies. The guys she had seen at her little sister’s elite prep school, well, that was excellent eye candy material. She wondered if her snob little monster of a little sister would ever introduce her to her friends, if she ever had real friends that is, apart of Lin and herself included, of course. For all it mattered however, it seemed she had found something of a romantic interest in the person of James Beaufort, a young lad quite passable in his manners but handsome nonetheless. A tumultuous and intense relationship, as far as Ruby had confided in her, but at least, that was a start out of her protective shell where she loved to bury herself in books and hide behind her selfmade bubble of so-called transparency.

Ember huffed. Ruby was way past being invisible, but she had never truly believed in herself. Now it seemed something had changed, and she hoped, for the better.

She reached the entrance hall and switched back to present, wondering who came to pay them a visit on a Sunday afternoon without prior notice. A visite-surprise of a secret Prince Charming maybe? What if it were her Prince Charming? Everything was possible... but hey, it was real life here, not Harry Potter – though she wished sometimes she was able to swish and flick her sewing needles like Hermione used her wand.

Smiling, she opened the front door wide, her voice loud and humorous like an eight o’clock news anchor. “Hello there, we haven’t been expecting you, but welcome...!”

At first, she didn't recognize the silhouette against the light. She shielded her eyes with her hand and finally made out the contours of a face. "Oh. You?"

A voice called from the back. "Who is it, sweetie?"

Ember looked at the guest, with a slight, knowing smile. "It's okay, Mum. Ruby's got a visitor!"

°+°+°+°

Nervousness started to arise in her as soon as the car stopped at their destination. Before that it had only been innocent trepidation in wait of making a pleasant surprise. Now, she was not sure anymore if she was allowed to be here or if she should have called or sent a message before.

She let Percy park around the corner and stepped out of the sedan. She reached the front porch of the red brick house surrounded by messy gardens within seconds, though her pace was lacking its usual swing and sophisticated elegance as she felt her feet had been dipped in lead. She managed to recompose in front of the robust little cottage, acknowledging its rustic charms. It was early springtime and bees were buzzing around, finding their match in colourful bushes of roses and gardenias. One pot of flowers hung next to the door, above the bell, ivy flowing down to greet the visitors. 

She took a breath, in and out, straightening her spine and shaking her nervousness away by applying a yoga method of focus. She scrutinized the wooden door before her and decided it was as good a door as another and that this house could be just as good a house as another. And finally, to be honest, she really hoped in her childish expectations, that nobody was home. Because of the nice weather, they could have gone outside for a stroll, or a swim at the lake or whatever...!

This was going worse than her worst expectations. What was she doing here anyway? Why had she come here? Was she allowed to visit a friend like that? Wasn’t it considered like stalking? It was a premeditated act; she could have written a message or called beforehand. She could have... 

She couldn’t exactly put a name on her feeling or the evil logic behind her losing control of the situation. She was doing nothing wrong, just visiting a friend on a Sunday afternoon. Well, could Ruby really be considered a friend? Actually, yes... Well, they had had a kind of bonding during the sleepover... but it felt different. Now, there was something more in the mix. She felt – guilty. Because she was here, and James wasn’t. On the other hand it wasn’t the first time she had sought Ruby out; last time it had been to warn her about James’ excesses. It had been okay, then. She could have left her in her ignorance, but decided it would be better for Ruby to witness him on her own. And she really wanted James to be happy with whoever was able to make him feel loved and alive. She hadn’t interfered, she had helpt.

But today, she wasn’t here to help him. She wasn’t on a mission to save her little brother. She was here... for herself. She was the one seeking help and having nowhere to go she had made up her mind to selfishly come here. It felt liberating to do something on her own, disconnected from her twin brother – even if that meant paying his girlfriend a surprise visit.
And there they flooded her system again, the bloody nervousness and the freaking sense of guilt.

Clutching her hands to fists and letting go, she repeated the exercise several times before raising a slightly trembling hand to chime level. She licked her lips and wondered for the tenth time why she was feeling so deeply self-conscious as her finger fell into the door bell and pressed the button. She heard the joyful ding-dong resound inside the house and immediately her ears echoed the sound in her head. They were not exactly ringing; it was more of a rush of blood that let the aorta in her throat pump quicker. She was sure that whoever might open that door would notice it. And she prayed to God, it wouldn’t be her.

Seconds passed in excruciating agony. All her senses aimed at the crack in the door before her, too sensitized to hear the birds chirping or feel the sun tickling her neck warmly. Before she knew better, sweat started prickling the skin of her forehead, leaving a delicate film above her upper lip. She waited for something to happen, anything, anytime soon, now. But – nothing happened.

She swallowed, her breath short. The blazer she wore started to hang heavily from her shoulders. She looked down at her ensemble, a dull and bitter sensation forming at the pit of her stomach. Fuck. It was Sunday afternoon in the suburb and she had dressed up for an Epsom Downs horse derby in Surrey. She felt dizzy at once, slightly losing balance. Had she overdone it?

Well, no. She was a grown-up young woman and if she wanted to pay someone a visit, she could drive there and make it happen. Anyway, what was the point in surprising someone if you told them in advance you wanted to meet them?
That they’d be home?
She sighed inwardly, trying to silence that sneaky little voice of hers.

She looked past her shoulder and saw Percy in a little distance, leaning onto the car, reading a newspaper. He was prepared, she wasn't.
She turned back to the door, training mentally like an athlete before the big jump.
One...
Two...
Riiiing!

There, she had deluded herself and pressed the doorbell, acting purely on survival instincts. There was no way she was going to spend the whole afternoon waiting for the door to open while her pulse was racing and her whole system a total nervous wreck. Well, she could still leave, she would have an excuse to do so if nobody answered. And nothing would have happened and no one would ever know. Good deal. Right?

She was absolutely not in control of the situation. For what it mattered, she would have swapped that visit with a meeting with the board at any time. Facing old men in a singular eye to eye contest while defending her arguments regarding Young Beaufort around a circular table would have been less devastating.

She felt out of place. These weren’t things well-mannered people did. You didn’t pay someone a surprise visit just like that, that was impolite, disrespectful, and insubordinate, as her grandfather would have said. If you wanted others to look up at you, it was your duty to be impeccable at all times. She licked her lips. Here she was, failing her most basic credo. 

Completely absorbed in her internal dialogue, she didn't realize that the door had opened. A joyful voice chanted words she didn’t register. “...expecting you, but welcome!”
She swallowed. Fuck.

“Oh. You?” Was there a hint of a sardonic smile in that voice or was she just over-interpreting because her heart was raging?

She blinked twice, exhaling deeply against her better will. Ember stood in the sunlit square of the doorway, an indescribable expression on her face. It was Ember.
Ember, not her.

Lydia held her hand up. “Hi.” Her voice sounded strained. Her head felt as if a thousand bees were swirling inside. Fuuuuuck.  

She heard a muffled voice from the back.

“It's okay, Mum. Ruby's got a visitor!” Ember glanced at her, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

Yeah... so, there was no turning back now. No need to scold herself for the high-pitched greeting, a winner knew how to get back on their feet after a failure. She forced a smile on her lips, finding an anchor in the reassuring glittering eyes of her counterpart. 

“Come on in, now, we don't bite.”

Lydia was quickly pulled in a one-arm bear hug that last a few seconds longer than usual. Ember rubbed her right shoulder, holding her fiercely and nodding sympathetically. Lydia answered with a slight appreciative nod. 

“You know your way, right?”

Lydia stood shortly in the small entrance of the cottage, feeling a bit weird at the insinuation in that question. She had only been her once, and it was at night. Still, she recognised the door to the living room to its left, to the right the guest toilet she had used during the sleepover. In the middle, a flight of stairs she hadn’t had the chance to be acquainted with yet.

She passed the living room with its comfortable carpets, following Ember into what looked like the dining room and ended right into the kitchen. 

Something sweet and warm wafted up to her nose. “Oh my God, what smells so good?” Before she could hold herself back, the words were out and about. Her stomach growled and rumbled in response, reminding her how empty it was and that it desperately needed refuelling. 

Ember grinned. “I know exactly what you need. By the way, those are my parents, Helen and Angus Bell.” She wandered across the kitchen to the fridge, pointing at two persons on her way. 

Lydia brought her right hand to her mouth in a defensive gesture. “I’m sorry, that’s not the way I usually greet people. I am Lydia Beaufort, from the Beaufort tailor company.”

“THE famous Beaufort Company, she means,” Ember added with a wink, a portion of lasagne finding its way from a form into a plate, into the microwave. “She is being modest about her family.” Ember smiled at her encouragingly.

“Like – Mortimer Beaufort?” 

A sturdy man in a wheelchair came around the corner of the middle platform. His hair was short, but longer than her father's and shinier. His beard was trimmed and shone too. Next to him stood a tall, slender lady, with brown eyes and brown hair. Surely dyed, but nonetheless, pretty. They looked around their mid-forties, right now very busy preparing some kind of pastry or cake. It smelt deliciously, to say the least.

“He is my father. James is my twin brother. Cordelia is... was... my mother.”

Both adults exchanged quick glances before returning their gaze to her. She tried not to interpret too much in that gesture but she had learnt to decode others’ secret languages at a very early age, and she knew they knew something that meant she had to be on her guards.

But before she had the chance to understand what was happening, Helen had swiped her hands clean on a kitchen towel and taken her in her arms without a warning. 

Lydia was caught by surprise and couldn’t react at first, arms hanging limply at her side. A second later, she felt a strong pressure at her left arm, another hand holding hers in a bear paw enclosure. 

“We are so sorry for your loss, Lydia,” Helen started, opening her arms and looking intently at her. “This was too much, too soon. We have watched the news and of course, our daughter Ruby told us about you and your brother. We are terribly sorry.” She held her still by one hand, the other rubbing her right arm.

Lydia couldn’t answer anything, fighting back the tears. She felt a clutch in her throat, and she just nodded. Helen looked at her with a sadness in her eyes that was almost unbearable.

She followed the warm pressure down her arm and met the friendly brown eyes of Helen’s husband, Angus. Compassionate and deep, and all too honest to be pretending. She swallowed hard again.

“You are welcome anytime you want, Lydia. And rest assure, our hearts are with you.”

Lydia nodded, clearing her voice. “I am thankful for your words. And your – kindness.”

There was a ting from the corner, and Ember, who had watched the scene in silence, hurried to the microwave. She opened the door and placed the steaming dish on the counter next to it. “Et voilà, this is exactly what a famished young lady needs.”

They all chuckled, Angus letting go of Lydia’s hand, tension dissolving a bit.

“Come on, follow me to the table, you should eat properly.” 

Ember held the plate high and Lydia’s mouth couldn’t but water as it passed at her eye level. Lydia followed suit and took place on a chair. 

“What do you want to drink? Is tab water fine? Otherwise we have wine or soda, or...”

“Tab water is fine. I prefer not to drink alcohol.”

Ember studied her for a while, one brow up. “Bad experiences, huh?”

Lydia didn’t answer, just smiled silently. 

“Okay, I’ll bring you cutlery and a napkin.”

Lydia huffed. “You can say forks and knives like normal people, you know? You don't have to treat me like royalty.” But she was glad for the change of tone. She felt in a lighter mood now.  

Ember was back in a blink of an eye. “Oh no? It's not like you're going to an elite high school, wanting to attend a more prestigious college afterwards, isn't it?” She sat down. “Ruby's mentioned all about your - aspirations. Which, given the fact that you are the offspring of a rich family, isn't really surprising.” Ember's eyebrows drew an arch above her eyes.

Lydia placed a bit of the lasagne on her fork, then looked straight at Ember in the eyes. She didn’t know what to make of this sudden directness so she simply put on the most unctuous smile that came to mind and tilted her head. “Has she?” 

An angel flew by. 

“Water!” Ember stood up before Lydia could answer and disappeared in the kitchen.

She was happy to be left alone for a moment to ponder about Ember’s reaction. Perhaps she hadn't meant any harm at all. Lydia knew too little about her to judge her sensitivity and perceptiveness. Unfortunately, it wasn't uncommon to be judged by her family's wealth; people referred to their money quicker than they took time to look at the person. She still had to get used to that, and she hoped that visiting Saint Hilda would help her accept her family heirloom and all that it meant. 

She suppressed the urge to touch her lower midsection and decided to focus on the dish before her. It smelt, to say the least, heavenly. They were rarely allowed noodles at home, upon their father's strict orders. So when she was out she indulged in a pasta dish from time to time. Complete prohibition only intensified craving and longing.

Bringing the bite to her mouth, she chewed on the mixture of pasta, spinach, cheese and tomato, and minced meat for a while. And before she knew it, she found herself in a sun-drenched land where birds chirped and olive trees bent under their heavy branches. Whatever was in there, whoever had done it, this was an ode to the palate.

Without knowing it, a moan left her half parted lips, truly forgetting about her nervousness and feeling the warmth of food invade her intestines. Ah, wonderful carbs, just right to let her blood sugar spike. So good...

“Right... comfort food is the best, isn't it?” Ember placed a glass of water on the table. A few minutes later, half the pasta was gone, drowned down with most of the water.

“It's absolutely delicious...” Lydia dabbed the corners of her mouth with the napkin before placing a hand in front of her mouth, hiding her smile.

“Just a few good ingredients, the best one being love." Angus rolled over, a plate on his lap. “And here comes more.” 

Lydia finished the last bit of lasagne, only to see a cookie appear miraculously in front of her.

“And here the tea to go with it. Earl Grey, with a lump of sugar, a cloud of milk, and a drop of lemon, right?”

Lydia turned to Helen. “How did you know...?”

“Tatata... Bell’s don’t reveal their secrets! Get used to it,” Ember winked at her.

“By the way, this is our latest creation.” Helen smiled warmly at her. “Salted Caramel Chocolate Chip Cookies. I want to sell them tomorrow at the bakery. My manager Mr. Smith allows me to sell my pastries under his name.” Then her smile faded. She reached out and took Lydia's hand in hers, fingers clasped on top. “You know, Ruby seems to like you very much, you and your brother. We are glad you came to visit us. You may come whenever you like.”

“I'm sorry.” Lydia looked around, uncomfortable by so much consideration. She wasn’t used to being treated so gently.

“Don't be.” Angus pushed the plate with the large cookie on it. “Now, could you be of service and try it? I would love to, but my wife has put me on a diet.” He patted his large belly. 

“Don’t lie in front of our guest, Angus! You know that's the doctor who-"

“I'll do it.” Lydia glanced at the three of them. “I will try the cookie.”

In reverent silence, she pulled up the fist-sized pastry, broke it into two, then into three pieces, and popped a broken triangle of pastry into her mouth. It was still warm from the oven, sweet and soft. Saliva spurted into her mouth as her teeth chewed on something incredibly soft, warm, juicy, salty, and chocolatey. Had she not been so well-mannered, she would have forgotten her education and embarrassed herself by drooling in front of those strangers. Nevertheless, she had to close her eyes, unable to suppress another groan, and wondered how much more she could endure of the sweet torture.

She opened her eyes again, gazing through a veil of bliss. “I'm so sorry... this is...” She softly wiped the crumbles off her lips with her fingertips. “This is - pure ecstasy, no joke. There's no other way to describe it. It would be sacrilege to sell them for less than ten pounds each, because otherwise everyone could afford them, and they're far too good to sell to just anyone.”

“So, I suppose they don’t need any post-processing? Perfect just as they are?” Helen waited, admiringly. Ember huffed, arms crossed over her large breasts, but she too was waiting in sustained silence for Lydia to deliver her verdict.  

“You've got my blessing as your alpha tester, Helen. These are terrific, absolutely mind-blowing!” She reached out and held Helen's fingers tight. The latter flashed her a big smile, finally exhaling.

Angus chuckled, and Ember clapped her hands, laughing. They were all so distracted by Lydia's openheartedness that they didn't hear the squeaking of the stairs or the creaking of the old wood in the living room.

“Can someone dare explain what is happening here?”

Lydia turned her head to the apparition in the doorframe. And her heart skipped a beat.

°+°+°+°

Ruby woke up to the sound of voices coming from downstairs. After lunch she had skipped the round of traditional family gathering, pretending to want to read a book. But as soon as she had hit the pillow, she had fallen asleep and had been dreaming very vividly.

Strange things happened and it all reflected in her subconscious. Surely it was far more interesting than her last mandatory reading for her Oxford prep course, namely Jane Eyre. She blamed it on the lasagne and the olive oil. Not that it tasted sour or rancid, but she had read in a magazine that pure, virgin oil turned your dreams into extravagant adventures. Never mind if it were true, she had just woken up from the wildest ride of her existence of the past last weeks.

She lingered on her bed, studying the ceiling with far more attention than needed, but her eyes couldn’t focus just now. She yawned, stretched and scratched her arm. Finally, having found no further interest in the plaster, or in the light bulbs garnering the headboard of her bed, she surrendered to reason and sat up in bed. She checked the time: almost three. Well. What the body needed, the body took.

She stood up and dragged herself to the toilet around the corner where she relieved herself. She couldn’t make the voice of their guests, but she heard the laughter and the merriness in her father’s voice as he spoke. Maybe one of his pals? They hadn’t visited in a while.

She used the flush and went to the sink to splash some water on her face. Looking up she figured her hair was messy as hell, but she didn’t give a shit. Thinking of James made her want to puke but she didn’t want to throw up the lasagne. He didn’t deserve so much from her.

She dried up with the hand towel and slouched back to her room. She snatched a hoodie from her wardrobe and put it on. She sighed. No, it wasn’t as soft and comfy as the one James had forgotten – the one she had thrown afterwards in the waste bin behind the house, yes – but at least it was warm and smelt of home. It was an old sweater of her father, with a washed out teddy bear paw on its front. She loved it because she could just disappear in it and pretend the world could go on without her.

She found her house shoes, a pair of old tarnished green Crocs with various pins of Miss Sunshine and Mr Potato in all rainbow variations, on their vamp and toe boxes, among others, that she diligently put over her thick fluffy cosy socks. She still wore her pyjamas, but hey, she hadn’t taken them out since a week, to start with, having caught a flu or something else, real bad. Ember had joked it was all because of a certain Mr. B., but she had soon enough stopped teasing her little sister with it, seeing how much it affected her. Eventually Ruby had gotten permission of her little fashionista of a sister to loaf around in her trashiest wearables, and no one was going to inspect anyways.

Now on the landing of the first floor, she rubbed her nose and started the descent into the depths of Bell’s manor... as her dad had once called their cottage. She smiled wearily. Such a good man, her dad. Step after step in the carpeted stairs, she envisioned the cup of tea she would be drinking. Her mum had threatened with a new sort of cookies she wanted to sell at the bakery. Maybe there would be one left to munch on?

Having reached the last step, she already had her mouth watering at the scents flooding the entrance and the living room. She envisioned the tender, soft and warm cookies, just waiting for her, on their plate, a smoking cup of tea next to it. Whoever that guest or those guests were, if they had eaten all the cookies they could prepare themselves for the worst. No way would she be left out of the orgy!

She followed the animated voices coming from the dining room. She still couldn't make out who that was as her family members chatted so much they didn't let them take part to the conversation. 

For a split second, she thought – hoped? – it would be James. Which was totally childish and dumb, given the fact he had just disappeared from the surface of the earth. Ever since the burial she had been texting him but after receiving no answer, she'd given up on going after him. He was probably working on sobering up after his excesses. She didn't want to think about it, it made her feel sick. She hadn't fallen in love with him just to get lost in his downward spiral, no way! She had to put herself first because she had a goal in mind. It was sad he had lost his mother and she truly had no idea how she would react if it happened to her family, but she was not going to stand as his emotional gas station to pump on. Her energy was far too precious to be spoiled on a little brat who didn’t go figure he could just get out of his shell and just send a message.
And yet, a part of her hadn't given up on him. And that, too, made her feel sick.

She reached the living room and finally got to hear the voice of their guest.
It wasn't James sitting there. It was his sister.

So... Lydia had come to visit her? Strange. She frowned. Couldn’t be. Surely she had forgotten something from the sleepover. Ruby never got visitors. She had barely any friends – and if Lin needed her or the other way round, they facetimed on their phone in the cosiness of their warm futons.

Nah... Lydia here? Maybe she was visiting Ember? Who knew what the two had made up in her back. The sleepover had been a genuine surprise, and she reckoned in perspective that it had been soothing.
Well, at least it was someone she had begun to get to know and liked at least a bit. It didn't make up for James' absence in her life, though, but it was a consolation.
She sighed.

She took the last steps until she reached the dining room, and stopped there, crossing her arms, leaning on the doorframe. She smiled, one brow up, watching the scene. Her family was having fun and it seemed they didn't need their own daughter to enjoy themselves.
“Can someone dare explain what is happening here?”
She suppressed a smile that came out anyway as Lydia turned her head and discovered her.

“Ruby...” Without a warning, Lydia stood up and closed the space between them. “It’s so good to see you...”

“Hey – uff...!” Before she knew what was happening, Ruby was being pulled in an intense hug. Lydia had spoken those soft words right under her ear, provoking a tingle of sensations unknown so far.  Taken aback, Ruby held on to the embrace, noticing a whiff of something decently strong and delicate tickle her nose. It was so - feminine and powerful, new.

Ruby held Lydia for a moment but soon enough she let go of her, to the latter's discontent, judging by the silent pout of her full lips.
“Lyd... is everything okay?” Gently squeezing Lydia’s elbows, Ruby looked at the redhead, sensing something was amiss. The Beaufort green-blues were sad and pleading. Tea would have to wait.
“I think I arrived just in time, didn't I?” Ruby chuckled. “I'm sorry, my family can be a bit... all-consuming at times - if you let them.”

A little smile tugged at Lydia’s lips, already fading away. “Don't worry. And for the record, your family is absolutely delightful,” she added, meeting Ruby's eyes with a soft bow of her brows.

Her insides twitched at the lack of joy in Lydia’s voice. For sure, she was a polite guest, and in her case, an honest one, judging by the radiant faces her father, mother and sister were displaying. It wasn’t everyday they received compliments, and Lydia seemed to offer them for free with her characteristic disarming easiness. But underneath all her poise, there was something true shining from inside that lacked its usual intensity right now.

Ruby placed a gentle hand on Lydia’s back. “Enough of platitudes, let's go to my room, where we can talk - in - private.” She quickly turned to her mother, pointing at the leftovers of the cookie with a big smile and a thumb up, mouthing: Keep that for me for later, okay?

She waited for Lydia to nod back. The latter turned around to face Ruby's family. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Bell, uh - Helen, I mean, for your hospitality. Thank you Angus, for the cookie. And thank you, Ember, for the food.”

Ruby looked deadpanned because she wasn’t used to so much politeness in her house. She took Lydia by the hand and almost rolled with her eyes as they quickly walked past the living room up to the entrance. “Don't tell me they stuffed you with food too? Lyd, you really have to be careful around my family or you will put on weight quicker than you can say banana.” She raised a brow in a playful manner that meant to be scolding, but Lydia didn’t take the bait.

“Pfff... As if I weren’t already. Actually the food was really good. Especially the pasta dish. It was a real poem.” She looked at Ruby. They had reached the flight of stairs.

Ruby started to climb but stopped on the first step and grinned, her eyes trailed on Lydia. They were somewhat at eye level, Ruby a little bit taller. “Is that true?” She caught Lydia’s arm in her hand and squeezed it softly. “Because, you know, the receipt is my creation and I cooked it this morning.” She was beaming. “It's a kind of a family tradition: every other Sunday Ember and I cook in turns. So, if you liked it, that's a very good thing...” She leaned forward and draped her voice in a conspiratorial tone. She forced it out louder than needed. “We have a little bet to know whose cooking skills are the best... and mine surpass my big sister’s by far...”

“I heard that, Ruby, and it’s not true! My butternut squash pies and pumpkin cookies are still unmatched!” A voice boomed from behind, before being shushed.

Ruby chuckled, then grinned stupidly. She knew the little gap between her teeth was showing. “Ha, she loves me.” She gazed down at Lydia, her smile friendlier. “Must be quite different from the fancy food you get at home, isn’t it?”

Lydia took a deep inhale, shaking her head slightly. “I loved it. I meant it when I said it tasted gorgeous, really. And by the way,” she looked around, appreciatively, setting her eyes on Ruby’s sweater with a little gasp in her words, “it is very cosy here, very welcoming, warm and nice. Your whole family is very nice, too. I suppose one could feel blessed to have so much?”

Ruby released a breath she didn't know she had been holding back. She heard the crack in Lydia's voice and there was little she could do about it.
“Believe me, we’re no different than any other family. We just get along better – than other families. I guess.” Ruby felt her cheeks warm up. She hadn’t meant to be presumptuous but it came out a tad arrogant.

“Don’t worry about that.”

Ruby let go of Lydia’s underarm to see her hand being caught between Lydia's fingers. The touch was warm and emphatic. It seemed she was giving Ruby that relief the brunette had been missing those past days. By simply holding her hand in a way that let her stop her actual trail of thoughts. She felt a warm something in her midsection, but it actually fired off like a tiny lightning bolt. It was a different kind of warmth compared to her best friend's touch. Lin’s was more like a buddy’s, Lydia’s was more like a lady’s.

As the warmth of their fingers created a silky film of sweat between their palms, Ruby was reminded at once who she was talking to. Not as the obvious person Lydia was, but as the apparition she embodied. Ruby took a closer look at Lydia and as always, she was striking. Hairdo twisted up in a high bun with no hair sticking out, Lydia was dressed in a flawless white shirt with filigree sky blue stitch, a dark blue blazer around her shoulders. She wore a pant suit, embracing her curvy, feminine thighs, and a matching pair of shoes. Her perfectly manicured fingers with the short fingernails held onto Ruby’s hand lightly, her decent makeup enhancing the blue-green hue of her eyes. She wore gracious flat earrings this time, in the shape of blood red tears. Pretty. And fascinating, alltogether.
She’d still showed up in her trademark immaculate style. Even for a visit on a Sunday afternoon, the couturier empire heiress was trimmed and upstance as if she were to attend a board meeting right after. Maybe she was?

“Yes...?”

Ruby swallowed. She felt under-dressed, with her uncombed hair falling loose on her shoulders and her far too large sweater. “Uh, nothing. I was just...”

A spark of delight reached Lydia’s water green eyes that brought her full lips to a wider stretch. “Yes...?”

Ruby managed somehow to unlock their hold and make a goofy face instead. “Well... are you ready to follow me... in my realm?” She winked.

“As you wish, milady. Lead the way.”

Lydia’s tongue, darting quickly between her teeth, caught Ruby’s full attention and left the latter unable to speak further. It wasn't the first time she saw Lydia speak, but something there was different. It felt different to have her here, in her house, for her alone.

“What?” Lydia insisted, seeing they were still stuck on the stairs. “Is there a dragon up there guarding your dungeon that you can't move on?”

Ruby grinned, cleared her throat and emphasized every word she spoke out loudly. “Nah... it’s down in the kitchen, eating cookies with my parents...”

“Ruby Jemima Bell, I SWEAR I’M COMING AFTER YOU, RIGHT NOW!”

°+°+°+°

They heard a screeching of chairs and a thumping in the living room, but before Ember could catch up on them, they had reached the top of the stairs and locked the door to Ruby’s bedroom. They fell backwards on the bed, laughing like little kids.

Of course, Ember never reached the first floor, and so they calmed down after a little while, legs dangling off the bed. Lydia let her LV handbag slip to the floor and turned her head to look at Ruby. Her hair lay in dismay, like a puffy cloud of brown. It was a bit wavy. It gave her face a softer touch.
“What did your sister just call you? A - gemama? What is that?”

Ruby chuckled. “Not a what. A who!” She poked Lydia's side as in tickling her, grinning all over her face. 

“Hey...!” Lydia held up a hand defensively. “So, a who.” She smiled warmly, looking at the girl lying next to her. “And who is that?”

Ruby chewed her bottom lip before answering. Lydia’s nostrils fluttered ever so slightly as she took in the sight. “It’s nothing particular, just my middle name. Jemima. It is rare like in ‚ancient‘, it comes from the Bible.”

Lydia offered her dearest smile. „How fitting.” She winked. And immediately earned the next tickle. “Hey, stop it...!”

“Or what? You’re going to explode? Oh, that's right, I forgot, you’re the stuffed goose here…!”

“That’s really… Oh, I definitely side up with Ember!” She turned so quickly over on her waist that Ruby stood no chance to defend herself. “Revenge!” The next moment, she was tickling the brunette with both hands. She didn’t stop, even as Ruby was crying tears and shouted mercy. “Ha ha! Now you're not so cocky...!”

Lydia finally let go, falling on her back. She was still expecting an answer, eyes trailed on Ruby.

“Jemima is a name,” the latter went on explaining, straightening up in a sitting position, one leg tugged under her other. She extended her right arm behind her on the bed to support her. “It is Hebrew and stands for 'purity, beauty, and peace', as far as I know.”

Lydia stretched her lips in an even bigger smile. “As I said, it fits you.” Heat spread around her stomach as she glanced over at Ruby. The latter looked back, mirth in her brown eyes. “I think it is very pretty and suits you very well.”

Ruby nodded, fidgeting with the sleeves of her oversized sweater, which was kind of cute. “Well, it also means ‘dove’. Like, the bird.”

“Such a versatile word, isnt't it?”

Ruby cast her a glimpse and huffed. “Yeah... something like ‘pure innocent delightful bird of peace’.” She made an opening gesture with her left arm, as if it could emphasize the symbolic behind the name. She looked back at Lydia. “What is the meaning of your name by the way? And, do you have a second name?”

Lydia exhaled, looking at the ceiling above her. “Yes, I do.” She quickly looked at Ruby before wrinkling her nose. “Well, to stay in our repertoire of references, Lydia was a businesswoman who was the first person baptized by Paul in the Bible.”

“Oh… even back then were the Lydias excellent traders, weren’t they?” Ruby winked.

Lydia winked back. “You have no idea.” She pushed herself up on her elbows to be a bit more at eye level with Ruby. “Otherwise it describes a location in old Greece. A town named Lydia. But primarily, it means ‘beautiful one, noble one’. So,” she smirked, “both our names relate to beauty, just different aspects of it.”

“Noticeably...” Ruby worried her lower lip. “Hey, wait, and what is your middle name?”

Without breaking eye contact, Lydia sat up in bed. She let her gaze hover over Ruby’s deeper browns and couldn’t but remember the exact same ones down in the kitchen. “You have your father's eyes, you know?”

Ruby didn't say anything, obviously touched by the comment. A slight shade of pink brushed her cheeks, letting her look like a delicate virgin of sixteen. Then all the stars of the midnight sky gathered in the vastness of her thoughtful eyes, letting her look like she could never grow old. “I’ve never heard that before and I bet no one has ever told him either. But then again, I guess that's because very few people really know my dad. That is very considerate of you.” Ruby smiled and slowly leant forward. She raised a hand and stroked her cheek.

Lydia froze at the touch. Such tenderness was unfamiliar to her. Although she had experienced something similar before with her mother in another context, she was still surprised at how naturally and effortlessly Ruby could express her feelings. Words, glances, and touches came so easily to her. She blinked thoughtfully, forgetting where she was. Ruby let her left hand fall into her lap and reached for Lydia's with the other.

“Now,” Ruby started, cocking her head, “will you tell me your second name? Or is that a secret...?” She winked, her lips reaching up on the left side of her face. “Wouldn’t be the first one.” A tad of worry came cloud her glance for a brief moment before vanishing right after.

Lydia licked her lips. “It is not a big deal.” She paused.

Ruby looked at her, her brows almost brushing her hairline. “Well?”

Lydia cleared her voice. “My names – are – ...”

“Wait? You have more than two?” Ruby gawked at her.

“Now let me talk or I’ll shut up forever!”

“’K.” Ruby sat rigid like a candle on the bed, both her hands back in her lap, so different and far from the perfect student image she gave of herself at school. It was refreshing and – curious?

Lydia thought of a puppy in an oversized blanket, the way Ruby was looking at her like that. It was cute and moving. Even without words Ruby had no problems expressing her emotions, simply by being there, and being herself. Such spontaneity was normal but in Lydia’s world, pure luxury. She had learnt the hard way to pretend, conceal, hold back, and play the part as often as it had been necessary. Without her education there was no way she would ever be able to navigate in the muddy waters of the world’s dark machinations. Business, politics, media – whatever had to do with influence and power. She had to put a mask to not crumble in front of others. Keep a poker face and her cards close to her chest at any time, and she would make it. Only that she couldn’t keep it up around Ruby. She was too pure and too deep rooted to allow such behaviour. That was part of her charms.

She pretended to create a diversion, as if she needed to buy some time before answering. In reality she wanted to take a good look at Ruby’s room. It was small, much smaller than hers. The walls had been painted white and it was fully carpeted, a soft egg-shell white. The double-bed they lay on stood to the right hand side when one entered the room, a wardrobe standing opposite the bed, and in the last left corner stood a desk with a low lamp next to the window. Arranged exactly like her own at home. 
But the comparison stopped there. In contrast to her own obsessive need for order, Ruby didn’t seem to care for structure as her possessions coexisted with her in a kind of organised chaos in there. There was stuff everywhere: shirts and trousers on the floor, notebooks, paper sheets and pencils on and under the bed, socks and – indefinable objects – living their life next to the big plush teddy bear by the standing lamp in the right hand corner. Light garlands cast a soft and comfy light, even now by day, and a plant, or whatever living being was in the pot on the window sill, thrived upwards as if its life depended on it. And maybe it was.

Ruby herself was a masterpiece of chaotic energy, wearing unmatching socks and that super large washed out grey hoodie with a cracked brown paw transferred on it. She laid on the bed among the many folds of her unruly futon and the room smelt as if it hadn’t been aired in several days. Her hair laid undone over her shoulders until she looped it up in a messy bun, hair sticking out from every twist of the hair elastic. It was impressive to witness such incredible state of serenity.

But Lydia knew what hid behind the facade. Ruby was a fierce student, working overtime to achieve her goals and write the best grades she could. Actually, she was year’s best and if anyone deserved to get to Oxford, it was that wonderful soul.

She suppressed a compassionate sigh and tilted her head, licking her lips, composing for her big announcement, spine upstraight now. “My names are...: Lydia, Frances, Alice, Virginia, Mary – Beaufort.”

“No way...” Ruby’s mouth gaped open. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not,” Lydia defended herself, shifting positions on the bed to sit more comfortably. “Those were my grandmothers’ names. Someone has to keep the flame of the family tradition burning.”

“Sure... well at least, you have a pool of names to choose from, for your girls.”

“IF – they are twin girls.”

“Yeah, you and James are twins, but he is definitely a boy...”

Something twitched in her heart at the mention of her brother. She loved him unconditionally, but right now it felt as if he were intruding in a place he was not welcome. Neither of them wanted to revive his memory, and it seemed that the moment of innocence they had shared was already fading away.

Lydia reached out for Ruby’s hands and hold those with hers. “Thank you for letting me visit you. In this big house, without my mother... I was starting to feel – lonely.” She uttered the last word under her breath. 

She felt a finger under her chin, lifting her face just as much. “Lydia, Frances, Mary, Virginia, Rose, Johanna Beaufort,” Ruby started, gravely, “mi casa es su casa. Don’t ever feel bad for coming around, okay?” She drilled into her eyes and heat flashed through Lydia’s body. “You are my friend, and friends are always welcome. No need of a marbled white invitation card with golden ivy leaves decorated all around the corners to visit me.”

Two brows shot in the height. “Is that how you envision your...?”

“Shush, I’m doing a thing here! Can’t you feel the holiness of the moment? Lydia Beaufort! You insolent, impatient little brat, you...! You’re destroying the effect of my sacred speech! Now, wait, you’re gonna pay for that!”

Before she could retaliate, Lydia was prone to a new attack of the overly oversized bear paw. Ruby threw herself atop her to tickle her again. And this time, it was Lydia’s turn to yell tearfully and beg for mercy.

°+°+°+°

After a while they regained their composure and sat up on the verge of the bed. Ruby scooted closer to her, snaking an arm behind her back.

“Hey,” she said, “you can visit me as much as you want. I'm not going to shove you away. I owe you anyway.”

Lydia snorted a thank you, then cocked her head, frowning. “How so?”

Ruby took a deep inhale, looking at her counterpart. There was something in Lydia’s calm ways that could be impossibly disarming, like a child’s purity that demanded to remain unstained. Ruby massaged her back a little, just like Ember did with her when she went through difficult times. “We didn’t have the smoothest of starts,” she began.

Lydia’s eyes turned a deeper shade of green. She was all restraint, Ruby could say, and it ached her to see her like that. She stretched a hand to squeeze her shoulder gently. “I see you with Mr Sutton in a compromising situation, and all I can remember is, the next day, your brother tries to bribe me with ten thousand pounds to buy my silence.”

“He didn’t....!” Lydia looked appalled.

“Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t know...!?”

“I knew. That’s not the point.” Lydia started to grin. “But ten grands, really? So much was my discretion for him worth and no more?” She smirked now fully.

Ruby slapped her on the upper arm, exhaling in a chuckle. “Oh, you ungrateful bitch...!”

Outch, Lydia mouthed, leaning on in the embrace Ruby improvised, letting go of her then.

“So, apart of your bruised ego, now, now that I revealed to you the true value of your intimacy in your brother’s eyes,” Ruby continued, pushing all thoughts about James in a little box in her mind, “you know that –”

“Please, Ruby, you owe me nothing”, Lydia interrupted softly. There it was again, that calm and peaceful stare. “In perspective I am glad it was you who found us and not someone else. I can’t start to think about my life today if it had been Elaine. She, or any other girl of the group she hangs up with.” She shivered, and Ruby took her hand. “And now you even know more about my life. And I'm sorry for that.” She swallowed visibly and looked away and down.

Ruby scooted closer, placing two fingers under her chin. “And that’s the reason you’re here? Or is there another one?” 

Lydia looked up and flushed. Ruby filed that observation for later analysis in another little box in her mind. She had collected quite a few since getting acquainted with the Beaufort twins indeed, and slowly it started to look like Warehouse 13 in her head.
She could tell by the way Lydia’s chest rose and fell that something bothered the usually so composed young woman. What did she have in her mind? Boxes? Ruby couldn’t manage to remain imperturbable, so she just transformed her thought into a new chuckle.

Lydia stood up. Ruby's eyes followed her, while she paced up to her desk by the window.

“I don’t know why I actually came. I think I just needed some fresh air. Get out of the house, of that mausoleum, where everything... reminds me of... just everything, you know?” She checked on Ruby, as if to make sure she wasn't leaving the room.

Ruby took a deep exhale. She couldn’t grasp why but Lydia looked – scared.

The latter licked her lips nervously. “I – I didn’t know where to go. I used to seek comfort by my mother in regards to – everything – my uncertainties, my fears, Oxford... But now... she’s gone.” She searched the room, finally meeting Ruby's eyes, pleading. 

It was Ruby’s cue to stand up and take a step. But if she moved too quickly, she could lose that new, fragile bond that was starting to enfold between them. “I understand, and it is absolutely normal to seek someone’s nearness. You are human, Lydia, no more, no less. And...”

Ruby stopped before she went too far. She had wanted to say, That’s exactly what normal people do when they are grieving, they search for each other, to mourn with each other.
Instead her eyes trailed away, feeling heavy and sad at once. Of course she thought of James. It was ironical.
That his sister was here in his place.

“I can't talk to Graham either. He doesn’t know about, my condition. And he shouldn’t find out about it until... I can’t hide it anymore.”

Ruby came back to the present. “How so?”

Lydia rolled with her eyes. “I don’t want to interfere in his career. He needs the promotion he’s going to get. I know because he’s a hard worker. He will definitely get it. So if the director ever finds out about me and him, it could be the worst thing happening. Knowing that my father is on the board too doesn't make it easier.”

Ruby frowned, moving away from the wardrobe and closing the space between them. “Can’t your father stay away from one thing at least?”

Lydia’s lips stretched a bit. “That could be James talking. But yes, he is everywhere, controlling everything.”

“Sounds freaking toxic to me, all this - tight hold on your lives... all of your lives... it's suffocating...” She looked up, as Lydia stood taller in her two-inch heels. “I'm sorry, he’s your father. I shouldn’t talk like that.”

Lydia produced a little smile. “Don’t worry, he is not the person I am looking for when I need comfort. That is... was...” Lydia evaded her gaze.

It hurt to hear the crack in Lydia’s voice. She was in pain and though she had probably struggled with her decision she had mustered the courage to show up and come here. If that wasn't a desperate cry for help then Ruby didn't know what was. In that moment, nothing else counted more than to be there for her friend. Knowing there was little she could do to relieve her pain, she still did the best she could. And so she smiled sadly, took a last step until she stopped in front of the redhead, and hugged her.

°+°+°+°

Lydia was standing by the desk, in the middle of the room. She could look to her right out the window, to her left was the bed, and behind her was a section of the wall with a two-metre-high shelf. There was not much space there but she needed to get some distance to Ruby. She acted instinctively, purposefully, although her deeper motivations still remained confusing and indistinct. Why would she need space between them when she had been seeking Ruby's closeness all along? It sickened her to be that-prude.

And there was nothing she could do to stop making a fool of herself, while she watched Ruby Bell come closer and stand right under her nose.
The girl was fearless and relentless like the British Army or a tsunami wave, which was basically the same. She would not step back, she would not take a no as an answer and she would walk on her until the last of her resolve would crumble. Of that, Lydia was certain. Because Ruby Bell never accepted defeat but looked for ways to manage and solve problems and go on. 
And all the while, though she could have had the craziest thoughts and concepts flying wild all across her mind, the only thing she could think of was, How does she smell?

It was unheard of. Ruby was her brother’s girlfriend. Yes, they had spent time during the sleepover, cuddling and goofing around. It hadn’t escaped her that Ember and Lin had been quite promiscuous, but that was not the way she felt for Ruby. It was different. Ruby was James’ girlfriend. But... she wondered how she smelt, like, obviously unwashed, uncombed, trashed all over, living in her bed since days, practically. Since the heartbreak.

It felt distinctively strange to want to be here, in her name, but also in her brother’s name. She knew Ruby was mourning, James had been an asshole. But his loss surpassed that romantic disappointment. For Ruby, on the other hand, she had been thriving on their relationship, blooming out. And the diligent, shy introvert had revealed her bubbly, lively personality. It was so much worth to preserve.

Maybe it was the combination of all those feelings that had pushed Lydia out of her house on that day. Not the selfish need alone to feel soothing on her soul. She wasn’t here for her brother either, nor to fix the relationship between him and his girlfriend. But maybe a part of her was. Without wanting it either. It was their story and they needed to find a way to thread their lives together again, if that was their desire. And then, there was Graham, who was so far away. She closed her eyes, thinking of his warm hands on her body, the way he made her feel seen and respected. She opened her eyes again, and there, in his place, stood Ruby.

Those big brown eyes in the frame of that lovely face. And then, that disarmingly charming little tooth gap that made you smile involuntarily, because it was just too cute. All in all, there was something more about Ruby that the unattentive eye could miss. Although she came from a simple family with simple rules and a simple way of life, it seemed as if her existence was dictated by grace. The way she carried herself, her head, her posture, her hands, everything looked graceful on her. She hadn't attended any etiquette school or endured the constrictions of a high standardised codex of a wealthier class, and yet, there was something naturally elegant about Ruby Bell, that surpassed by far anybody's expectations. She looked at you with the purity of a unicorn, marvels and stars glittering in her big brown eyes, swimming in a sea of dreams, able to cast that light on your very steps with disarming effortlessness. She was there, deeply rooted and intelligent, and at the same time, somehow, as fragile as a glass shaped sculpture. She was so eager to please you and do her best, and could totally forget herself in the process. She was ambitious and dedicated, an energy that swept you away but carried you with fierce optimism. She was a fighter. And for that she deserved everybody's respect.

One moment she would speak up her truth and stand for her convictions. The next, she could open up, put on that shining smile, laugh that crystal sound, show her teeth, and behave like a child. Like she had now. Innocent and pure, as authentic and devoted as in her work.

And that's why she was so dangerous.

Because she could touch you in places you would never have dreamt of. She moved your soul in a very simple, yet efficient way. She didn't pretend and she didn't assume. She didn't hide, neither her tears nor her fears nor her laughs nor her hopes nor the dread in the depth of her soul. She reminded you of the humanity you had lost all along and stood by your side until you had recovered.
She was contagious in a way you could lose yourself in the earth of her eyes, and the warmth of her smile. She was healing life energy. And she simply had a way with people that was innate talent, a golden treasure glittering in the depths.

Lydia remained stiff while she felt Ruby hold her in her arms. She should have seen it coming. And yet she didn’t refuse the accolade. It felt good, all Ruby, and she smiled, exhaling loudly. Eventually, she placed her head next to Ruby’s ear and rose her arms to encompass the frailer frame of the brunette, hands landing between her shoulder blades. It was a high hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hoping Ruby would understand. Whatever.

Instead of answering, Ruby took a deep inhale. “You’re doing a tough job of being strong right now, Lydia, but James is not the only one.”

Ruby had talked under her breath, pondering each word. Lydia frowned a bit, still smiling bravely in Ruby’s neck. It was soothing to be held, even for a while.

But.

Something changed in Ruby’s posture. Her hands shifted up.

“You've lost your mother too. I’m sorry, Lyd.” She had spoken those last three words impossibly softly. Slowly, without a warning, Ruby snaked her arms past Lydia's neck and closed the last possible existing space between them.

Lydia was taken aback by this daring display of intimacy. She could feel Ruby curl up against her broader frame, taking the whole space against her breasts, belly, and thighs. At a loss for words, and because she felt otherwise awkward, she let her arms drape around Ruby's rib cage but couldn’t reiterate the degree of closeness. It felt embarrassing to her, now. It was a different context than the sleepover. She had been mourning, in pain, the wound was so fresh.

But now?

She could feel her chest rise and fall, pressing against Ruby’s much smaller breasts. In a way it was alluring, it was how it felt to hold Ruby Bell against one’s body. But no, this was way too intimate. Such hugs were private, to her brother’s partnership with his girlfriend.

“Mhmmm... you smell so good... I love it...”

Adrenaline shot through her veins. The way Ruby had moaned those words right under her ear lobe was insane. Immediately her body started heating up, her arms enclosing Ruby’s body tighter. Lydia breathed a few times quicker before controlling herself again.

“That’s a new fragrance,” she began, noticing how unsteady her voice was, blood gushing annoyingly loud through her ears. “It’s called Ambre Nuit from Dior. He was a French fashion designer and founder of one of the world's top fashion houses in Paris.”

“I know who Christian Dior is, silly, I have a big fashionista sister, remember?” Ruby shifted the position of her head and huffed, speaking a tad louder before dropping back to a murmur. “I’m just saying, it suits you very well.”

It should have been only a nicety, a few pleasant words from a friend. But Lydia had absolutely no clue why Ruby was acting so personal with her. Was it because of her appartenance to the Beaufort family? Because she was James’ sister, James’ twin sister? But she was not him, she was herself. Could it be Ruby was – projecting something because she was in need for affection and stuff?

Yes, that was it, that had to be it. Just a confusing moment for the Bell girl, and the redhead could simply be there as a friend for her friend in need, by giving into the moment. Gaining a lot of her initial composure back, Lydia settled in a much relaxed mind frame. Burying her face in Ruby's neck, she let go of the tension and cuddled with the oversized hoodie. Warm – and – easy. She closed her eyes, sighing delightfully.

They stayed like that for a moment. It felt like the echo of a single note on a piano, in the dusty air of a long forgotten music room on a Wednesday afternoon, while the other students played outside, and their shouts came muffled in. A moment suspended in time. Lydia could hear her blood calm down and instead, concentrate on the sounds in and between them. At least, she could try. Because all she could do was inhale the very essence of Ruby Bell.

Like Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, that character of Patrick Süskind’s book The Perfume, she felt like a stalker, wanting to conserve the very essence of the woman she was holding. Like a mad scientist, she imagined a process to preserve those molecules forever in her neuronal database. It was exhilarating and intoxicating. And before she knew better, her breath came out short and in her trance a few words escaped her foggy mind.

“Mhmmm... you smell of flowers... Of tan and sun and warmth. And light.”

She earned a giggle. It was ludicrous. Ruby had obviously not showered that day and yet, in a very absurd and sympathetic way, that was exactly what made her scent out. That, and the cheap softener they used for the laundry. She hadn’t sniffed it at the sleepover, it had been another smell, but for all the hours they had spent together, most of them touching one way or another, nothing had felt as intimate as this madly eternally feeling moment they were sharing in the intimacy of Ruby Bell’s room. It was just too good to be broken and so they kept hugging.

But just as if she had sensed it, the momentarily relief she had been enjoying gave birth to a new sensation as Ruby's lips came to touch Lydia's left earlobe, right under the earring, in a huff. Surely by mistake.
“I haven’t hit the shower for days.”

“Ah.” Lydia’s onomatopoeia came out too quickly.

“Sorry...” She felt how Ruby crinkled her nose, curving up against Lydia's fuller body.

“I like it.” It was pure agony.

“I didn’t know you had such low standards, Lydia.”

“You’re no low standard, Ruby Bell.” Definitely not.

They kept holding on, no one harnessing the courage to open up the embrace and look at each other. Instead, if even possible, thinkable, doable, Ruby curled in even more and adjusted to Lydia’s body. It felt as if she wanted the taller woman to hold her forever.

Ruby nuzzled against her neck, sending shivers down Lydia's spine and a muffled moan in folds of fabric. “Ruby...”
No more than a huffed murmur, a plea, a sorry.
Instinctively she tightened the grip of their embrace.

“It's okay.” Ruby managed to squeeze herself even closer. 

That was insane. Insanely intense and threatening to derail any minute. Their midsections were pulsating at the same rhythm, breaths exchanged shortly. The temperature between their bodies had turned up substantially and there was no way this accolade could be described as innocent anymore. At this stage, it was impossible for Ruby to deny it either. They were holding each other like...

A striking bolt of adrenaline electrified her whole body and Lydia panted at the realisation, cheeks flushing intensely. She was sweating under her blazer but there was no way she could take it off. She didn’t want to let go of Ruby, not now. And then she did something she didn't control and didn't want to. She turned her head against Ruby's throat, sweeping her delicate skin with the tip of her nose, pressing her lips against the soft patch of skin under Ruby's ear. Ruby whined, as if Lydia had crushed her too tightly, and so the latter loosened the embrace against her will. Anew, a deeper breath came tickling her own neck, and Ruby motioned closer to her, if that were even possible. 

Lydia’s hands slid down Ruby's back until they rested little over her loins. The girl was so slender, it didn’t take long arms to encompass her whole frame. Instead, the sensation was enthralling. It wasn’t a motherly protective kind of thing but more a – lover kind of thing. Lydia swallowed and licked her lips compulsively, pushing her mouth against Ruby’s softer skin. Such display shouldn’t be allowed. It was crazy. Crazy good. A torture against her better judgement. And yet, she lost the battle for reason, her maddening mind racing in directions that spun within. She wasn’t keen on understanding why she wanted to disappear within Ruby, or why her mouth was watering while holding her close. She just felt the hardening of her muscles and the tension in her legs, and all she could think of was how good Ruby Bell felt in her arms.

And for one moment, one fucking moment, she wished she could be in the body of her brother and make love to Ruby. Just then, a jolt in her groin, twitching her clit, made her groan inadvertently and she scolded herself for losing control so easily. Fucking hormones!

Ruby’s lips stretched against her earlobe. She felt a hand caress her bun and the nape at her hairline. She heard Ruby’s hot gush of breath against her neck.

“I'm starting to understand why my brother has fallen in love with you, Ruby Bell,” she said with unconcealed effort. She hoped her gasps were not that obvious though.

She heard a panting chuckle, next to her left ear. “Becaaause... I'm cute?” Ruby grinned mischievously, still not looking at her.

The gluing of their bodies indulged into a small break, as Ruby straightened up a little, her head slowly detaching from her neck. Still, the confession made Lydia snort involuntarily.

The air blown in her neck made Ruby giggle. “That tickled,” she said with a smile, now pulling away with her head laid back, hands interlaced behind Lydia's neck. She was looking at Lydia, smiling innocently, a slight hue of pink colouring her cheeks.

Now, more than ever, Lydia wished she were her brother. Just the view was insane enough to have all her senses spiral up in a strudel of not-so-innocent thoughts. The girl was literally hanging to her lips. It seemed Ruby Bell was quite aware of what she had provoked by the way those big brown eyes had turned a darker shade of indefinable deep. There was darkness inside that girl, and Lydia felt incredibly attracted to it.

“Not that I would mind.” A soft whisper.

What, what? Lydia’s senses were working at full speed. Ruby’s posture had changed slightly, a little smile adorning her now parted lips, glance dangerously dropping to bedroom-eyes level. She searched Ruby’s eyes for confirmation or denial but found nothing of both.

Panting against her better judgement, she felt her lips part, instinctively pulling Ruby back into a new kind of embrace. She saw Ruby trail her every move, obviously aware of what was going to happen.

Time stretched indefinitely and for a moment, but no one was moving further. She wished Ruby could find the courage she was lacking herself. A torture.

There was a hard knock on the door. “Hey, Lydia? Your driver just received a call and he needs to get away soon. Should he come back later or wait for you?”

Lydia quickly looked in direction of the door, assessing the situation in a fraction of a second. She immediately straightened up and brought Ruby back into a more decent position, opening her arms, thus bringing the intimate moment to a closure. “It's okay, Ember. I will go. Could you tell Percy to wait for me?” 

Eyes hovering over Ruby's brown gaze, she knew she had committed a faux-pas. Well, had she? Ruby was still her brother’s girlfriend, she scolded herself. But it was plain to see that the brunette hadn’t... wasn’t... Wait, what exactly had happened those last seconds?

Whatever, she didn't want to leave Ruby like that, but she had to leave, preferring to escape the situation than confront it. She knew she was not really kind now, but there was no time to discuss it properly. It. What? That tension?

She took a deep breath, thought about puppies and kittens, and the way Ruby stood exactly like said pet, arms dangling along her body. “I'm sorry,” she managed to say, bending down and leaving a kiss on Ruby's cheek.

“Lydia...?” A hand rose but Lydia discarded it with a shrug of her elbow.

“I’m sorry,” she just repeated, making an unhappy face and hating herself for that. She bit her lower lip, inadvertently looking down at Ruby's mouth. No. Get away. NOW!

The voice of reason silenced the voice of treason and she managed to walk over to the other side of the bed to get her bag. She turned to Ruby and shook her head in a wordless “no”, as if wanting to conceal something highly compromising.

Then she turned back to unlock and open the door, breath short but composed. Ruby’s sister stood on the story, in front of the door. “Hey, Em...! Thanks for letting me know. It's okay, don't bother,” she added as Ruby's big sis opened her mouth to speak further. “I will take my leave now. Thank you for the lovely afternoon, it has been very,” she cast Ruby a glimpse, “enlightening.” She nodded at Ruby who was still standing by her desk. She turned back to Ember. “Thank you for everything.” She left the room hastily without giving the room and its occupant a second chance at a last glance.

“Hey, I didn't want to interrupt anything, if you were discussing important matters or so,” Em started at the top of the staircase, Lydia already on the stairs, “it's just that the poor man looked in the need of-”

“It's alright, Em,” Lydia told her, walking down the stairs. She needed fresh air, quickly. She reached the end of the stairs and peered into the living room. “Thank you very much for your open kindness, Angus, Helen. It has been a pleasure meeting you.” She offered them her warmest smile, digging deep in for this one.

“Oh, are you leaving already?” Angus looked up from the book he was reading, frowning all the same.

Helen tilted her head and smiled at her. “Remember, you can come back whenever you want. Cookies and tea will always be ready for friends of our daughters.”

“Thank you very much. See you soon then!”

She hated that when she had to leave in a hurry, but she had no choice. As she departed from Ember, hugging her lightly, she saw Ruby standing at the top of the stairs. She looked deceptively young in her oversized hoodie, her bangs of messy hair framing her face, and her pyjama trousers. Deceptively young, and something else, something innocent and dangerous and attractive and beautiful, all at the same time. Because that was who Ruby was: Everything, everywhere, all at once.

Their eyes met one last time before she passed the door, walking briskly back to the car. 

Percy, who was leaning against the sedan, straightened up immediately. “Miss Beaufort? I could have come back later.”

“It's alright, Percy. I was done anyway.”

The driver nodded shortly and opened the side door for her. He closed it and circled the car to take place on the front seat behind the steering wheel. “Is everything alright, Miss?” He still asked, turning the engine on, looking into the rear mirror.

Lydia knew he only wanted to be friendly, but she wasn't sure what she felt herself. It was all confusion, new, intense, nothing she could label 'good' or 'bad'. She didn't know what to think, least what to do. She didn't even know if she had to do something. She wanted to ravel in the sensations she had experienced up there in Ruby's bedroom, at her most intimate, and stay there. But she was also a public figure, even in the presence of the staff. And so it was her duty to keep a poker face up, as she couldn't take the risk to be figured out.

On the other hand Percy was a very discrete and devoted person. Already his grandfather had served the Beaufort family, and his son after him, and Percy now. Pity he had no children of his own. Heartbreaking the way he wanted to help in any way possible. In a way a true friend would. But he was just a servant, a ghostly apparition, a gentle hand on a shoulder when they needed the comfort of a trusted presence. He had witnessed so many moments of their lives it felt cruel to let him out of this one too, whatever if was. And yet, it was impossible to share with him even a fraction of her momentary confusion. Because, again, it had been a most intimate moment she had shared with none other than Ruby. The very same young woman, her brother's girlfriend, who had probably been snugging with him on the very same backseat she was sitting in herself... 

So she did what her mother always did and had taught her to do in such cases, emphasizing the fact it was paramount to show reassurance, even with the aid. Most of all, with the aid. Of course they would know, feel, that something was amiss, they were far too perceptive of the truth behind the facade. But never would they find out why.  

She pressed her lips together, her eyes drifting afar, pausing just as much. Then she turned her head in his direction, refusing to avoid his eyes, thus paying tribute to the memory of her mother and her dear and honest affection for the driver. 

“Yes. Everything's fine, Percy.” She knew he would understand. Percy always understood.

He nodded ever so slightly, a barely noticeable squeeze at the corner of his eyes.

She knew that he knew that she couldn't talk, and that it was okay.

Obviously - nothing was. 

She blinked softly, turning back to the window, and looked at the landscape unfold outside without really paying attention. But it didn't matter. Not really.

For the old order was clearly crumbling. And nothing remained of the sacred, familiar, and precious safety net her mother had woven around her children.

And so she indulged in a moment of reprieve, rocked by the movements of the car. Percy was the last guardian of their innocence and she trusted he would take care of her.
And at times like these, when everything started to change and get scary, the presence of a trustworthy friend was enough. 

A friend, with brown eyes.