Whatever, I let it Happen

The lawyers had come sporadically in between, trying to get a moment with him, but with everyone that spoke to him he lost more and more patience. It was the falseness of it that grated on him more. That they’d say things so pretty and positive about his father or how proud he’d be, which took everything in him not to laugh at.

“I don’t even know what I need,” he sighs, rubbing his temples and wishing this never happened. Not because of any love he had for his father but because he hated what he was straddled with. “If I could give all this away then I would. Would you take it?”

His gaze only softened. "I can't really take it like that, Tobias," He pointed out to him. "But I can help, if you like," he offered. He wasn't sure how he'd be helpful...

He sighed and slightly tugged at Tobias' forearm. " Come on, how about we go to the water? Get out of this stuffy house. I'm sure Lady Yi can handle the lawyer for now..." He asked him as nudged his head towards the door.

I don't have that many close female friendships, and book clubs are the worst. So I just thought this could be something fun to share.

Kitty's posture straightened a little more when he called her vicious. She could tell he was just playing with her, but it still made her feel good. "Yes, of course I am." She took another bite of her ice cream, a small smile on her lips. Bertie was so nice, she didn't deserve it.

"I'm not a disaster." She mumbled with a small pout, but she certainly did feel like one in the moment. She had no idea why she had to go and ruin nice things with Ceara. Her spoon poked at the ice cream as he spoke, her eyebrows furrowed. "Of course I mean it. She has been so sad Bertie, she does not smile anymore. It is sad." Her chest ached at the fact she wasn't smiling all because of the cruel trick she played. The spoon stabbed at the ice cream angrily before she took another bite of it.

"Well I know now." Kitty sighed and looked over at Bertie, like a child being scolded. "I pretended to go distract Lord O'Connor so he could go meet Mary Barnett. And then I, perhaps, lied and said they were planning an elopment." She murmured, eyes fluttering away now.

He gave her a look when she said she wasn't a disaster. " I thought i told you, you shouldn't lie," He pointed out. "Well," He knew why Ceara would be sad, but he wasn't sure if it was his place to tell Kitty of all people as to way. Ceara should be the one to tell her. " Then she'll forgive you then. Just don't..." He trails off. " Say something you don't mean"

He paused finally when he heard what she did. "Katherine Thorne, why in the world would you do that?" He scolded her- but quieter. " You must know how that Lord feels about Mary Barnett." He sighed. "You could ruin lives. Do you understand that?" He asked her as he tried to meet her gaze.

Edgar did not offer pity. Pity, he had found, was often only curiosity wearing gloves. "Well, then I shall not admire him." His gaze shifted to Bertie, though he did not try to force the man's eyes to meet his. "But I will say this much: a man may be right about someone else and still be wrong in what he does with it." He let that sit only a moment before his mouth curved, softening the weight of it. "And I think leaving a bad house is often mistaken for running away by the people who expected you to remain there and suffer politely."

Then, at last, he looked down the alley. The goose was there indeed, hunched over the puddle with her feathers ruffled, proud and bedraggled and entirely unaware that she had become the subject of a rescue mission. Edgar's face frightened. "Ah.There she is. Our damp little duchess." He took one careful step forward, then immediately stopped when the goose lifted her head and fixed him with a look of black-eyed hatred. Edgar lifted both hands. He glanced sideways at Bertie. "You are the practical man. How does one persuade a goose to accept assistance without losing a finger? I have charm, but she has already made her opinion of it very clear."

He liked that Edgar didn't offer pity or anything like that- he didn't want it from him. He never wanted to have any pity for him. It didn't give him anything when he saw him.

"Well...you might be right." He sighs. 'My father isn't a bad man. Not really. My ma was the glue. It fell apart when she left us," He tells him, but then his focus was on the goose- he didn't even think as he spoke.  

"Running away was one of the few smart things I did." He didn't want to go back. He didn't want to stay another day there. He wouldn't be here- a valet to a lord otherwise.

Their little duchess was pecking and really- she seemed like the world was against her; it wasn't. He didn't know a little thing could have so much hate.  

He finally looked over at Edgar. " You think food would work? I heard they like grapes...." He said because he was a practical man, but he wasn't when it came to letting a goose accept their help. "She looks like she hates the world, I don't know if we can do without loosin' a finger..."

Seeing Bertie on the other side of her door was comforting- seeing him usually always made her feel better. He was so kind and gentle. She didn't deserve him. What if he realized that and started to distance himself from her, refused to be her friend anymore? All of these thoughts started plummeting her brain until she realized she had not spoken in a few seconds and she cleared her throat.

"Can you... Come in?" She asked finally, stepping aside and opening her door a little more. Normally letting a male servant into her room would be frowned upon, but everyone knew Bertie. He was not a bad man who had ulterior motives.

When he was inside, she closed the door behind him and went back to sit on her bed. Her room felt heavy with grief and despair, and yet she couldn't get herself to leave it. She couldn't even sit up properly, slowly lounging back until she was laying on her side like a stuffed animal that had been knocked over. "Why did he have to die, Bertie?" Came the question that had been on her mind all day. "Why him?"

But Kitty needed her- He is sure the new Lord Throne could let it slide. He stepped in, and he set his hands behind his back while he watched her go back to her bed.

It didn't even feel like he was looking at Kitty. It was different seeing a freshly grieving Katherine. He carefully made his way to her bed and carefully sat on the edge of her bed.

He was waiting for that question....the whys.." Death doesn't choose people based on whys," He said. He moved his hand towards her hair to move it out of her face- it was a careful and gentle touch. "Life happens. It doesn't decide because someone is a sinner or saint. It just takes." He paused for a moment when he realized she would blame herself, wouldn't she?

He tried to meet her gaze. "You are not at fault, my dear," he said quietly. "You are never at fault for a natural cause of death. That's not how death works; it’s not because he thinks someone deserves to be taken from them”

"i believe the flowers will sense the love from your mother and yourself, just as animals and children do, a flower can as well." she had seen the magic that a little extra care could do to a wilting flower.

"and i know what i would wish for them. no debating on the matter," her features soften and her smile warms, "use your other coin for something more, something else that would have made your mother smile."

" I bet they do," he told her. " Sometimes the flowers my ma would have would last longer. She said even plants need love to stay alive a little longer"

"I can sense that you wouldn't." He laughed. "Thank you- my mother always liked chocolate," he offered. He didn't have a sweet tooth, but his mother always managed to buy him a chocolate when they could afford it. "I could get some with the other coin." Nothing crazy or fancy- but enough for a sweet treat.

"I am sorry to hear that," Edgar said, quieter than before. "About your father, I mean. Not every house is worth remaining in simply because one was born there." He did not say it like a gentleman offering charity. There was no grand pity in his voice, no softened look meant to make Bertie feel studied. Only an odd sort of understanding, tucked carefully beneath his usual brightness.

They walked on, following the small trail of feathers past the edge of the market stalls. "And your uncle?" Edgar asked after a moment. "Was he the mischief, the necessity, or the rule that deserved breaking?" His mouth curved faintly, but he kept the question gentle. "You needn't answer that. I am only trying to decide whether I ought to admire him or fear him."

Another feather lay near the wheel of a cart. Edgar bent to pick it up between two fingers and held it aloft like evidence in a trial. "Ah. Our lady has passed this way." A fruit seller nearby looked up suspiciously. Edgar smiled at once. "Not your lady, madam. A different lady. Smaller. More feathers." The woman stared.

Edgar lowered the feather and cleared his throat. "Come, Mr Dawson," he said, turning back to Bertie with a warmer look. "You may tell me as much or as little as you like. I am beginning to suspect your running days were better earned than most of mine."

"I will answer. I don't mind- not really. It's all in the past for me." He smirked slightly because Edgar is asking the right questions. " he's all mischief. I haven't spoken to him in... years." He trails off. "My father always said he was a crook. That he only ever cared for himself." He wasn't so bad at the start until he decided to choose himself over blood. "To answer that, though. You shouldn't admire him because it turns out that my father was right." He sighed, a little annoyed at the thought of it all.

He slightly perked up when he saw the feather in his hand, and he stepped closer to look at the feather. "It seems our lady is closer by than," he said as he looked over at the women. " a bird, actually. We are looking for a goose" he added. The lady nose scrunched up and pointed. " I saw a rowdy one go that way" She tells them and Bertie nodded at her. "thank you"

"I don't know if I've earned that," He laughed. His eyes still never really looked over at Edgar since that first time. He doesn't mind sharing, but it's much easier when he's not looking at a warm look. He paused their walking, grabbed Edgar's arm, and he pointed down an alley.

"Sir, look there," He said as he saw their goose pecking at a puddle of water.

It had been a long, long night. Honestly, Katherine couldn't even remember most of it. Everything after hearing of her papa's death was like some sort of terrible nightmare. It was all foggy and even trying to think about it gave her a horrible headache.

She had planned to keep herself locked up in her room for a while. The idea of having the face the world when something that shattered hers happened was surely a sick joke. Of course, she knew that it would not be plausible. She would have to go check on her mother, her sisters, even her brother. It did not just effect her, everyone in the household was now changed.

Everyone, including the staff. God, she wondered what Bertie was doing. He was like a brother to her, she wondered if papa saw Bertie as a son. Or, at least an important staff member. But Kitty knew he was so much more than that. He did everything for them all, not just Tobias, not just Lord Thorne. He was family.

There was a knock at the door, and Katherine was going to ignore it like every other knock that sounded. However, the voice that sounded made her reconsider.

Bertie.

Her body was heavy with grief, and her eyes were blurry, and everything just hurt. Still, she used all her strength to drag herself over to the door, turned the lock, and she slowly opened the door to look at her friend.

"I... I'm sorry." She whispered, voice strained. Surely she looked as horrible as she felt.

Oh... it all felt so sudden. He didn't even know how to feel- Lord Throne had treated him better than alot of other men in his standing. He was harsh on him only when Tobias did something he didn't like. He was meant to keep him in line. He wasn't the nicest all of the time, but sometimes he showed him kindness he never got from older men- men who were the same age as his own father.

He was kind on the anniversary of his own mother's death. He could never forget the firm hold on his shoulder when Lord Throne told him he should go to bed early when he was in shambles.

When has he ever had that sorta of kindness before?

But now that man was dead.  

He only allowed himself to think about himself until something clicked in his head- Tobias and Kitty lost their father. Tobias lost his other parent... Kitty lost another father.

He wasn't sure where Tobias was. He wasn't in his room like he always did. It was odd not having to wake him up. Everything about death throws off routines.

So he carefully made his way towards Kitty's room. He carefully knocked on it. "Miss Katherine?" He called out. He waited. He wasn't sure she would respond, but he heard the careful, slow shuffling in the room.  

"Oh, no need to say sorry," He said quietly, like he was talking to frighten animal. "I just wanted to check on you"

"As Cornelius' eldest son you inhert his title and seat under rules of primogeniture. Your step-mother is protected by a jointure and should you wish it, you may request that she move with your sisters to a dower house," the laywer says but Tobias doesn't take it in, he can't focus on anything and looks around the room to see a sea of faces all around, lingering at the sides and watching him more than they did before and it was grating on him more than anything else.

There's more talk about property and customs but instead of waiting to hear more patiently, he abruptly gets up and makes quick movements out of the room, noticing someone followed. "If you're here to talk about antyhing related to Lords and seats be quick or speak of something else," he snaps but its clouded in an a croack of his voice, overwhelmed by everything around him.

He wasn't allowed in the room while the lawyers spoke. He waited outside-  another thought had come to mind as he waited. Tobias doesn't have to keep in her services. He was only ever around because of the Lord's throne. It was rather a selfish thought...would Tobias keep him around? Does he even still have a job?

He looked over when he noticed the door had opened, and he saw Tobias walking. He followed, and he was surprised to hear him snap. He's never seen Tobias like that. he only steps closer. He shook his head a little. "No, I don't want to speak of that, Tobias," He offered quietly. He speaks of no titles, even if he's on the clock. "I'm not...soft as you know, but I was worried about you," he said. He carefully set his hand on his shoulder. "I'm here for you," he tells him quietly. He didn't know what Tobias needed. All he could do was wait for Tobias to say something."

He accepted the title of 'disaster' with an incline of his head, though he felt the need to correct Bertie. "I should like it noted," he added, stepping forward to retrieve a fallen spool and return it with an apologetic bow, "that I am occasionally useful in a disaster. Usually after causing it though." The woman gave him a look of deep suspicion. Edgar smiled at her with all the innocence he did not possess, then turned back to Bertie once they were moving again.

His eyes searched the street ahead, but his attention had shifted, just slightly, toward Bertie. Not away from the goose entirely, but enough to catch the offer when it came. He slowed a fraction and looked rather pleased by the fact that there was a story; not victorious, exactly, but intrigued.

Bertie had not shut the door. He had merely put a lock upon it and invited Edgar to see whether he was clever enough to find the key. Very well. Edgar had always liked being able to unlock doors. "Then I shall ask properly." He clasped his hands behind his back as they walked, adopting an air of exaggerated seriousness. "Were your running days caused by mischief or necessity?"

He glanced over at him. " Occasionally...." he echoed, and he even let a small laugh out. " At least you know how to fix the problems you cause...sometimes, it seems." He shook his head.  

Once their searches start again, he doesn't look over at Edgar. He keeps his eyes ahead, looking for any feathers or signs.

He waited for him to ask properly then. He never really thought he'd be next to an O'Connor while they asked him things. The O'Connor he knew. Didn't care enough about him to ask.  

"Hm, I'd say a little bit of both- though necessity was more of the cause of it." He shrugs. "My father and I fought, and I left...I lived with my uncle after that....He showed me a way of life. That caused a lot of running," He supplied.

“Are we,” he faltered and gave Bertie an uncertain look, trying to read the man’s face, “Are we not friends? We spend time together, and I trust you. Have I misjudged? My apologies, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

"Wait- I didn't say i was disagreeing!" He tells him quickly. "I just- wasn't sure..." He trails off. "Meeting your daughter must mean we're friends, but I wasn't even aware you thought of me like that"

He doesn't think a lot of people want him as a friend. that he was someone wanted.... Oskar has nothing to gain from being his friend. He can't use him as so many others do.

"We are friends....I don't have many. Apologies for asking," He tells him without looking at him. Grown men do not ask things like that...how embarrassing.

“You did,” Dominic said sternly. “And servants like you always know everything. I’ve never doubted that.” He’d set up the conditions for Frederic. He couldn’t have been any clearer in his expectations and rules, and Frederic still flouted them. If only he’d listen to Dominic; he could see there were other avenues of happiness and ones that didn’t saddle him with a family of liars. ”You do know there are other things than love that make a marriage work?” Dominic said, losing his composure for a minute. “There’s respect and friendship, which is far more sustainable and permanent than love.” He didn’t mean to sound uncaring. There was always a potential for strong feelings, but Leonora was like him. A realist, understanding the world around them and not the rose-tinted views that Albert had.

"Well, I didn't mean for it to come from me..." He trails off. At least Frederic can't be mad at Kitty now… well, still maybe mad at her- “I figured you would have already known that…”

"When I say loveless, I do not just mean romantic, Lord O'Connor," He meets his gaze. "I meant that too. Loveless... no romance...no respect or friendship. You don't care for the other." He wasn't married, but he'd seen enough noble marriages that looked just like that. "You just live in the same house..."

"I was a servant for a family once...they married for noble reasons- they were best friends.  They respect each other... but not anymore. Friendship and respect are so fickle when you don't have anything stronger keeping that together"

"You'll see soon enough, I'm sure." He shrugs. "You think I'm just a servant, but I've seen enough noble marriages to see what will happen....But only time will tell, isn't that right?"

They turned the corner carefully, Edgar moving with a little more caution now. For all his earlier bravado, Bertie's concern had clearly struck him. It was one thing to perform a glorious rescue. It was another to realise he might have only moved the poor creature from one danger to another. "You may be right," he admitted. "I had not thought that far. My plan began with outrage, continued through liberation, and ended somewhere around needing to find a pond." He glanced sidelong at Bertie. "This is why every disaster needs a practical man."

Another honk echoed from somewhere near the street ahead, followed by the startled cry of a woman and the clatter of something wooden. Edgar grimaced. "I believe our wronged lady has discovered commerce." He quickened his pace, though this time he did not grab Bertie's sleeve. He only looked back with a grin. "Come along, Bertie. Between your good sense and my talent for catching attention, we may yet accomplish something almost useful. While we search for our friend, you should tell me more about your running days."

"Well, our goal would be to find her and then help lead her to the pond?" He said that was the only way about it. "And hopefully she would figure out how to feed herself..." he trails off. He lets a soft chuckle out. "I'm the practical man, then, while you're the disaster?" He speaks plainly with the Throne siblings, but he figured that Edgar would be similar. that he'd like being talked to as if he's another commoner- if not...well, let's hope that's not the case.

"i think you're right," He said as he followed along towards where they might find her. When they reached where the woman was, no goose was seen.

Clearly, it won't be so easy to find her.

He finally matched his steps. "About my running days?" He snorts. "Now I won't give that easily. You must ask questions, and I'll perhaps answer them," he offered. He wouldn't give it freely, but- well, what harm would telling Edgar them?

her features did not show pity, they did not show melancholy or shared sadness, they echoed understanding. her free hand reaches to offer a momentary comfort to the man's arm, a shared silence of children lost without their mothers to guide them in this cruel world. "a sweet reminder to keep her close, she would be proud, as i believe mine is, sir."

humming, liliana nods, "then i will take no more than a farthing for them." and she would not.

He was careful with the flowers anyhow, even if they were going to be gone soon. They should still get care. " i no longer have her to care for, so the lilies are nice. I'd give them the love my mother would have," he said as he softened.

"Miss...you know these flowers deserve more than that," He teased, but he had a feeling she was going to be stubborn. He'd have to give her what he could. "

There were stranger compulsions than longing to be seen. To be known was a grievous wound to most souls; to be wanted, however, possessed the singular talent of making one forget the sting of exposure altogether. What was pride beside the exquisite ruin of another’s attention?

He feigned contemplation, as though Bertie’s questions demanded profound consideration. Their feet traced elegant circles across the polished floor, his hand guiding the other man with deceptive ease. Bertie followed as though music had been bred into his bones rather than taught.

How curious, valets were usually not fashioned for such grace. Their place was behind chairs and beside carriage doors, not beneath chandeliers with the confidence of gentlemen born to command a ballroom. Yet Bertie moved with neither uncertainty nor imitation. One did not acquire such poise merely by watching from the edges of society.

The Thornes had always kept him close. Closer, perhaps, than masters ordinarily kept their servants. The thought lingered only briefly, whatever strange loyalties existed between Bertie and that family were of little consequence tonight. Allies, rivals—it scarcely mattered. Harmony among companions was always sweetest when one quietly possessed the advantage.

“What makes you think I’d play a game with the likes of you?”

A low laugh escaped Niccolò, soft enough to disappear beneath the orchestra.

“Because whether you choose to name it so or not… you’ve already accepted the first dance.”

Another measure. Another turn. The melody shifted beneath them, drawing them together before sending them apart once more.

“You see,” Niccolò smiled, all teeth, nothing kind in it. “I find myself in an exceptionally charitable mood tonight and I blame you entirely. You are a delightful partner.”

He mused over the question as a cat might muse over a bird already caught, twirling his partner across the floor, watching him fall back into step. 

“It would spoil the amusement if I surrendered everything I’ve been told, wouldn’t it?” His mouth curved into a theatrical pout that neither concealed nor diminished the delight glittering beneath it. “Nothing unkind has reached my ears, I assure you. In fact…” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “I shall be the generous one. Ask whatever you please before I ask anything of you.”

Poor Bertie. He danced so beautifully that he scarcely seemed to notice he had accepted the Devil’s hand. Niccolò wondered whether the realization would come as a shock or as a tease.

“I require so little, after all.” His thumb drifted almost absentmindedly against the fabric at Bertie’s back as they completed another turn. “Only answers.”

The smile never left him.

“There is no urgency, however. Truth has an admirable habit of arriving precisely when it ought.”

The only reason a man like this would speak to him was because of who he worked for. It does put him alittle on edge about what the other could know.

He isn't innocent. No, he could hurt people if he truely wanted.

fuck, does this man know? He tries not to let it be seen that he was worried.

"Hm, I thought so," he said even though the other man was fucking vague; he figured that much. That he accepted his dance meant that he was already going to play whatever this game is.

"Oh? A charitable mood? " It's good that I caught you in such a mood," He said. He can't help but preen like a bird when he's called a delightful partner. He rather liked hearing how good he is, one of the few skills he takes such pride in.

He listens to him carefully, and, really, the man only makes him *wonder* rather than actually being able to give clear answers. How are they meant to work together if the other man seems determined to speak in riddles?  He wasn't even aware people still talk like that.

"Are you a bridge troll, Sir?" He blurted out. "You speak in riddles like one." He knew that was not exactly what Nicco must have thought when he had offered, Ask whatever you please. He couldn't help it because what other could this man be?

"Also, this has to do with the thrones? You aren't going to do anything to them, are you?" He knows he's not being honest with the thrones either, but he still has the urge to protect them in any way he can.  

"Only answers, and what such answers are you looking for, sir?" He knows he could find any sorta of answers if given enough time. He moved along with him. He keeps in step even as he speaks. it's as if it's second nature the way his feet move.