the air of sixty-one lancaster gate is more suited to that of a funeral parlour than a home. standing in the dark gloom of hallways on long unsanctified ground, archibald mercy could remember funerals and wakes merrier than this place โ quiet. still. in stasis where his own family is not; tittering and colourful as rare birds who do not yet know they have been taken far away from the warmth of their own shores. miss barker is the canary in the coal mine, then; fluttering down the staircase not to warn, but to greet; and draw them in deeper. the thought sits off centre within the mind of the mister mercy โ watching the way she smiles, softly, the way she clutches at his youngest girlโs hands. lillian is right, he thinks; standing tall and proud, watching her. how could we ever leave her here?ย
a thought he would not voice โ not yet, at least. lillian was most insufferable when she was smug, after all; and the good lord himself could come on down from up high to try and teach the woman the virtue of humility โ sheโd not yield, even then.ย
โ oh, you are truly an angel sent from heaven, jo โ truly, and far too good to me. โ victoria speaks with the same sweet sincerity as christopher does. a trait, no doubt, learned from their father; and easily does the youngest mercy daughter press a kiss, then another, to johannaโs pale cheeks; beaming brighter than the sun before decidedly taking johannaโs arm in her own, leaning in for a most conspiratorial whisper. โ emmeline was absent from mass again this week. โ eyes flick between the scene before them; the way christopher stands before them, hopeful as he his awkward, his gaze only for miss barker, waiting as if she might ask for him to escort her โ their parents, distant in all ways; lillian fussing with her hair, alexander tugging at the sleeves of elizabeth, sullen and withdrawn as always. โ mama was furious, jo. she is utterly convinced his grace has convinced her to convert, but what can she do? em is a duchess, and mama โ well. mama isโฆ. mama. โ as if more needs to be said.ย
โ and are you fishing to give miss barker a scolding from her, nan? โ another whisper; this one from christopher โ ever johannaโs protector where his siblings are concerned, no matter how small or large the annoyance. his own mouth puckers ( so like his mother when he is irate ); while victoria rolls her eyes with a huff. were she not a lady grown, she might stomp her dainty foot. โ you know how keen her hearing can be. โ two sets of pale eyes now fall upon the matron in question, thankfully engaged in conversation with the other members of the mercy family; and the sigh of relief from the youngest sister and youngest brother is audible, pronounced.
โ perhaps i was overzealous in my conversation. i will certainly bring such a matter to confessional next sabbath, if it pleases. โ an edge of teasing โ head tilting; dark curls that match christopherโs ( but are so out of place against the rest of the mercy family ) shining in the dim light.ย
a huff of irritation passes through christopherโs lips then, his own eyes rolling up, up, up. he will not fall for his elder sisterโs bait, not here โ and not in front of johanna, whom he wishes and prays sees him as โ well. he does not quite know what he wishes for her to see him as yet; and furthermore, why did he care so terribly much about how miss barker saw him?ย
it is a train of thought he will not entertain within this house, caught under the long and crooked shadow of the law; and the youngest mercy is glad, then, that johanna speaks; breaking the tableau before them when his good father offers a kind smile to the trio at the landing of the stairs; hand splayed at the back of elizabethโs gown as he nudges her forwards. their second is a solitary girl โ suited to the walls of ballroom floors and the edges of crowds; no matter how small. unsociable, entirely unlike both her mother and sire. it worries him in the same way that johanna does.
โ you need not apologize, my dear girl. i hope that the hours between mass and dinner have treated you kindly. โ his rumbling voice, low and deep, carries with it a quiet, commanding sort of presence; a warmth on even the bleakest of winter nights. though, he makes no motion to move; head turning sidelong to glance down at the missus mercy, fussing now with the collar of her eldest boyโs shirt. the missus and he, perhaps, are the most alike in many regards โ in temperament, in looks; fair and golden in turn, beautiful and cold โ and it is no secret that he is the gem of his motherโs eye. โ shall we, my dear? โย
โ what โ oh, yes. of course. we need not linger by side doors like a band of mummers, thank you, johanna. โ a gloved hand extends, elegant and jeweled; taken by the mister mercy with ease. even grey and aged, they are a striking couple โ both in height and looks โ as the party shifts forwards down a path long since known to them, and far easier when done within their own home.ย
christopher pauses for a moment ( just a moment ); watching the way victoria moves, arm in arm with miss barker โ and then, before he can stop himself โ he all but runs to catch up, falling into step beside them. โ might i take your arm as well, miss barker? โ he offers himself with ease, with an elated hope in his gaze โ though makes no move to touch without permission. to do so would be ungentlemanlike, he thinks; and johanna deserved only the best. alexander, on the other hand, does not seem to think so grandly ( or kindly ) of the matter โ catching up to the trio in four long strides, a grin on his fair features as though he has told a joke, and he skillfully ( purposefully ) times his own steps to catch against johannaโs ankles as she walks, dogging every step with practiced ease, stifling his own laughter.ย
โ jo-anne-ah โ i fear your hems are too long, you are drowning in them. โ