Only Bitterness Remains... 🕰️

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The small boy with blonde hair was heavily breathing, his body shivering , as well as his eyes barely opening sometimes before closing again. The hands you were holding into yours were deathly cold, like a blizzard hit him. He would've died. You knew he would've died. He lost too much blood.

...The doctor, the only doctor who's decided to accept curing a "thief", however, decided to prove you wrong. Currently he was wrapping the gauze in a way to hold his limp right arm to somehow be connected to shoulder where the kind man took the bullet out of and stitched afterwards.

"This should do... The child is very much going to survive all of this, as long as he's met with the needed conditions. However...his right arm will be completely unable to do any activities again. Quite a shame for a young lad." The older man scratched his whitening beard in pity at that.

"Thank you so much, Doctor Lanyon! You've done more than enough! You've saved a life!" Tears were welling in your eyes, genuinely greatful at the moment... You've genuinely forgotten this was a dream... until you've heard the doctor who came to help's name for the first time. 

"You truly are a saint, Lady Enfield. No woman, especially not a youthful one as yourself, would wish to keep a street urchin inside their home. That is a very admirable quality to a person. You are admirable" 

"Thank you, Doctor...I do hope Richard accepts to help nurture him..." At least... back to health. Shortly after, the doctor bowed before you as a goodbye, holding his tophat, as he was led outside the manor by your trusted butlers.

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You didn't leave the child's side, holding the smaller hand belonging to the child into your bigger ones as he laid in a guest room bed... his hand was slowly warming up to your own, and his breath becoming airier... what a relief.

The child's blue eyes opened slightly to look at you, although tired. "I'm so sorry madam... I was sent here to..." he seemed to be barely breathing, and it didn't help that he looked like he was about to cry.

"Speak no more about that... even if you were sent or not, you are forgiven..."

You sensed the boy still felt guilty about everything even after forgiving him. Poor child.

"How about you tell me about something you really like... like maybe animals? Every child surely does love animals!"

"Horses... I really like seeing the carriages with them leading the way... I would like to... ride one... one day... and give it the name of Oliver Jr...."

"Oliver Jr? What a strange name... Your name must be Oliver then...right?"

"Yes, madam..."

Oliver... as in Oliver Twist? Huh... strange... you didn't expect to see him here... but it wasn't an unpleasant surprise... contrary actually. A warm smile rose up your face. "Well then, Oliver... You can call me (Name)..."

"But madam... wouldn't that be impolite...?"

"If you insist... you can call me Lady (Name). We're now friends after all, aren't we?"

"Friends..." the boy was shocked. You could see it by the way his eyes widened slightly, bloodshot with tears. "I've never had an actual friend before..."

He broke down in tears, unsure of what any of this could mean. Poor boy. You didn't quite know what to do... you truly didn't wish for Oliver to see you as an enemy... but you knew everything would be overwhelming for him... what had your mother done when you were a child and crying?...

You've done the most reasonable and rational thing you could think of: you put your finger under his eyes, and rubbed off his tears, before caressing his cheek gently to calm him down. "...Dearest Oliver... Then, if you haven't ever had a friend before... I'd like to have the title of being your first friend... only if you'd be content with that!"

A weak smile rose his lips, before it crumbled down into crying, holding your hand with his left one as if it was a lifeline...

the rest of the night went like that: you trying to calm Oliver down, and him crying... until he tired out from crying and relaxed to sleep. Poor boy. You got up from your kneeling position, and opted to instead sit on a velvet chair nearby, and try to think about everything...

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Richard Enfield was known to be a gentleman with a smile always present on his face, but this time... there was no reason to smile. He was completely bamboozled by this Mr Hyde... he did just as he promised to do that morning, go to the bank and try to show this man's lies... only to be met with the fact he was truthful somehow?! 

And so, he left that side of town via the same carriage he sent his wife in (which came back just as promised), to come back home. Oh, his sweet precious wife.. He never understood how a man could ever see his woman just as his extension. To him, you were the whole world... Maybe it was also a factor that your newfound marriage wasn't fully out of betrothal (as he was the one who asked for your hand in marriage after having a few rendezvous at his manor or in Hyde Park, where he had his branding "She's the one!" thought that wouldn't go away), but he truly saw you, his wife, as an equal... maybe even a higher being than him.

He couldn't wait to get into bed, hold you in his arms and kiss you senseless, until you both fell asleep peacefully... after all, he had to show you all his love before the afternoon walk with Gabriel Utterson, his maternal second degree cousin... he had to share the stories about his honeymoon to Glasgow with his precious wife to him.

Once he got inside the manor, the maids and butlers fussed continuously about their master, asking where he was, and that his wife was currently taking care of a street rat... wait... his wife was taking care of a street rat?

"Pardon?!" Master Enfield was clearly upset and confused. Not at his wife, but at the notion that somebody would DARE take advantage of her kindness! "How could you possibly let a street rat in this house?! AND LET MY DEAREST WIFE WITH IT?!" He yelled at the servants. "Lead where this ragamuffin is NOW!" 

Never once did the servants see their master like this. He was known as the gentleman with the most soothing voice in all of London by both the higher and lower classes. Ever since he'd gotten engaged with the brand new Mistress Enfield, had he began losing his temper easier... but the servants had to obey their master either way...

As he walked inside the guest room he saw the thief in his house! A street urchin sent to take the riches of his! COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!

But then he saw you on the chair... and his eyes softened. You were sleeping on the chair... positioned to guard the small boy... oh truly what an angel you were... but Richard still had to have a word with you... as much as it hurt.

"(Name)...my dearest (Name)..." he shook your shoulder to wake you up. It was sad to disturb your peace (for Richard at least), but he really needed your word on this situation. To hear what was on your mind, to bring a stranger in the house.

When you finally looked at him with drowsy eyes, you looked surprised to see your husband. "Enfield..."

"My dearest, we're closer than being on a last name basis, did you forget?"

"Oh... no, Richard..."

You saw the faux patient look on his face. You had to give him credit, he was trying his hardest, but you understood quickly that he wanted answers for... little Oliver's appearance. You yawned, looking at the young boy, still asleep under the red duvet cover with sprawled arm and legs. He looked as if he hasn't slept since he was born from how at peace he looked.

"You know exactly what's wrong, don't you?"

No response.

Your silence was making him impatient, but he couldn't possibly be impatient with his wife... well, now he was. Rather gentle, but still impatient. "(Name), you know urchins only want to steal valuables, no? We can't trust one in this household!"

"But he's wounded, my love..." 

"He's still capable of doing bad things! Even more now that you're vulnerable!"

"He's the vulnerable one here!" 

Enfield was shocked. You brought an impostor in the house... a thief... and you started protecting him. He should be angered... he should yell your head out until you'd understand what you've done!... His once warm eyes hardened at how you were talking to him, with that raised up voice.

...But oh, how your eyes looked shocked too... his eyes though cold as ice, started melting into tears, as he couldn't see anymore. "Oh my beautiful, stubborn, saintly wife! Only a goddess like you could be so humble and kind to such a creature!"

His knees buckled as he fell at your legs, his hands draped against your lap and his forehead on your knees, as he began sobbing. You didn’t know what to do exactly. He was acting like he has done a crime and you were some kind of Christ Figure forgiving him.

“What have I done to be so lucky getting a wife like you!” he cried, pulling more and more on your dress as a way to cope with the emotions he was feeling. Oh, how he loved you! You truly were too good to be real.

When he tried to reach out for your face, he caught instead an apple. An apple which could feed future generations. An apple so soft in it’s flesh, wrapped in silk as a way to cover it from hungry beasts. Hungry beasts like him. Truly a beauty of the anatomy.

“Richard… what are you doing?!” the quiet shriek of his goddess of a wife’s voice was what broke him out of his trance. When he’d realize what an utter buffoon he seemed to be like, his ears dusted a deep shade of red. “My dearest, do not think I’ve meant to do this with any ill intent! I just love you so much! You’re too good to be real!” He lifted his hands from where he held her, and just looked at her. Really looked at her. “I apologize for being such a repulsing mutt… You know… when I first saw you… your portrait at our painter’s house.I felt so warm… Your eyes really caught me in… Oh but the real overwhelming warmth started when we met at that ball hosted by the duke of Sussex… You were even more beautiful than the painting!… And that dance, it was dazzling! I knew in that night that you’d be my wife! And I’m oh so happy that’s our reality!… Your (e/c) eyes… they have not lost a bit of shine from them… my beautiful (Name)… my dearest (Name)…”

“Richard… you must be so tired from what happened earlier with Mr… whatever his name was… And I understand how you feel seeing a child that’s not your own in your house…I can’t blame you one bit for how you’ve acted…” You tried being gentle with him. Just put him to bed (Name)… that’ll calm him down…

“You…you can’t?” he stuttered, his voice trembling. If only not for his attire, literally nobody would think this man was a noble… but you found the whole lovesick puppy personality attractive… though, you also couldn’t help but notice his wood acting up, caged in those tight trousers. He was too busy in his little euphoric episode of how wonderful his wife was, that he didn’t notice his little pal woke up… though you did, and you suspected that the touch of your boob might’ve woken something in him. You couldn’t blame him though, you were pretty attractive if you could say so yourself… or merely the fact that he was a young lord in victorian england who’d probably faint at the slightest reveal of skin from the ankle upwards. Yeah that was a better explanation.

“Not one bit.” you smiled at him, kissing away a tear from his cheek. And thus, you left the child to rest for a bit, to instead join your dearest husband… or actually the husband from this dream… oh well!

And so once you got into bed, you fell into slumber again, too tired to wait for him as he seemed preoccupied in the dressing room… he was probably trying to choose what piece of sleepwear he should wear. It wasn’t important as you went back to sleep.

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Richard Enfield was quite literally the picture of the perfect british nobleman. He was poised, kind (for the most part), and with a lighthearted humour. Not too serious as he was still a young man, but not too much of a party animal either. He was a perfect balance. He was the perfect balance of what the average noble should be like.

But now, he felt like a fraud, as if the balance fell for his impulses. But he’d put it back as it was in the morning… with the clean hand which wasn’t holding on his shame.

He couldn’t go into bed with his “rooster” woken up to call for the morning. He couldn’t go in bed to his wife to feel how perverted he was! A big perverted disgusting mess! Why was his body acting like this!

He tried everything to calm his phallus down… Even the unpleasantly-pleasant idea of stroking, which seemed to be the only way he could calm down. His pink head was sliding inside and out of the skin, being fully erect, and he couldn’t stop. The Devil was inside him! He was feeling lust! HOW DISGUSTING OF HIM! And the most disgusting fact was that the faster he was stroking his entire length with his left hand, the image of his beloved (Name) in his head… how her breast felt…. the more he felt like a volcano at the thought. He couldn’t hold back anymore, he felt too overwhelmed, and took a cloth to not create a mess once he’d release…

“I’m no better than a manwhore…” he cried silently to himself, and then he noticed that the cloth indeed belonged to his beloved. The pantyhose she wore today from the long trip they had back in London from their honeymoon. He truly was a shame of a man to her!

He wanted to discard them… but what if she liked these pantyhose… oh god, he’d ruined something she loved!… He immediately got dressed when he saw his length had softened, and ordered a nearby maid to get the pantyhose washed up. He didn’t care that it was night, he needed them clean and brand-new by the time the sun would rise! He even gave the maid a look of threatening. One that screamed “say a word about this to anybody, and I’ll leave you on the streets!”.

When he returned to bed beside his lovely wife… he felt too disgusted with himself. Instead of cuddling you, he put his right hand, his clean hand, around your waist. His left, dirty hand left to himself.

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When the sun shined, Richard didn’t want to leave your side, but he had to. He got dressed and went to check on the unfortunate urchin which, like a tumor, inhabited his safe space now.

Opening the door, he saw the mop of blond hair, looking at his shoulder first and then at the man. He looked no older than twelve, probably even younger from how skinny he looked. Only his height and just teeny tiny bit of maturity on his features most likely from trauma aging his features up. Everybody could see he was a child, but nobody could simply guess how old he was. And Richard cared more about the reasoning behind why he was inside his home, rather than sentimental get-to-know bullhunky.

“I see you’re awake… urchin.” he muttered, trying to appear kind, though he wasn’t pleased in any way.

“I am… where is lady (Name)?” Oliver was expecting the answer to be something along the lines of “she called the authorities, you puny brat!”. After all, nobody truly cared for him. Why now some noble woman?

But the words that left your husband’s mouth surprised the boy to tears, even if they had a slight bitterness to them. “Well, my dearest wife is asleep right now. She was acting so… maternal… towards you. Saying we should keep you until you’d heal. Quite a saint, isn’t she?”

“She… she said all that?”

“Don’t take her kindness for granted! You better behave around this house for now.”

Richard knew he should’ve made the ground rules clear in how bitter he was for once, but young Oliver, also known as just “urchin” by him, was more than joyous.

“Really? I can sleep in this comfortable bed as much as I want? Without paying? This is so jolly! Thank you so much, kind sir!”

Enfield felt weirded out by how now the urchin was wiping his tears with one hand, choking on the tears which showed how happy he was.

“Strange child you are… urchin. Well, so long.” and with that he left, to meet with his distant cousin, Gabriel Utterson, the revered lawyer of all London. He just had to share what happened during nighttime… both with the enigmatic Mr Hyde, and with this raggamuffin sleeping under his roof.

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The small boy with blonde hair was heavily breathing, his body shivering , as well as his eyes barely opening sometimes before closing again. The hands you were holding into yours were deathly cold, like a blizzard hit him. He would've died. You knew he would've died. He lost too much blood.

...The doctor, the only doctor who's decided to accept curing a "thief", however, decided to prove you wrong. Currently he was wrapping the gauze in a way to hold his limp right arm to somehow be connected to shoulder where the kind man took the bullet out of and stitched afterwards.

"This should do... The child is very much going to survive all of this, as long as he's met with the needed conditions. However...his right arm will be completely unable to do any activities again. Quite a shame for a young lad." The older man scratched his whitening beard in pity at that.

"Thank you so much, Doctor Lanyon! You've done more than enough! You've saved a life!" Tears were welling in your eyes, genuinely greatful at the moment... You've genuinely forgotten this was a dream... until you've heard the doctor who came to help's name for the first time. 

"You truly are a saint, Lady Enfield. No woman, especially not a youthful one as yourself, would wish to keep a street urchin inside their home. That is a very admirable quality to a person. You are admirable" 

"Thank you, Doctor...I do hope Richard accepts to help nurture him..." At least... back to health. Shortly after, the doctor bowed before you as a goodbye, holding his tophat, as he was led outside the manor by your trusted butlers.

────୨ৎ────

You didn't leave the child's side, holding the smaller hand belonging to the child into your bigger ones as he laid in a guest room bed... his hand was slowly warming up to your own, and his breath becoming airier... what a relief.

The child's blue eyes opened slightly to look at you, although tired. "I'm so sorry madam... I was sent here to..." he seemed to be barely breathing, and it didn't help that he looked like he was about to cry.

"Speak no more about that... even if you were sent or not, you are forgiven..."

You sensed the boy still felt guilty about everything even after forgiving him. Poor child.

"How about you tell me about something you really like... like maybe animals? Every child surely does love animals!"

"Horses... I really like seeing the carriages with them leading the way... I would like to... ride one... one day... and give it the name of Oliver Jr...."

"Oliver Jr? What a strange name... Your name must be Oliver then...right?"

"Yes, madam..."

Oliver... as in Oliver Twist? Huh... strange... you didn't expect to see him here... but it wasn't an unpleasant surprise... contrary actually. A warm smile rose up your face. "Well then, Oliver... You can call me (Name)..."

"But madam... wouldn't that be impolite...?"

"If you insist... you can call me Lady (Name). We're now friends after all, aren't we?"

"Friends..." the boy was shocked. You could see it by the way his eyes widened slightly, bloodshot with tears. "I've never had an actual friend before..."

He broke down in tears, unsure of what any of this could mean. Poor boy. You didn't quite know what to do... you truly didn't wish for Oliver to see you as an enemy... but you knew everything would be overwhelming for him... what had your mother done when you were a child and crying?...

You've done the most reasonable and rational thing you could think of: you put your finger under his eyes, and rubbed off his tears, before caressing his cheek gently to calm him down. "...Dearest Oliver... Then, if you haven't ever had a friend before... I'd like to have the title of being your first friend... only if you'd be content with that!"

A weak smile rose his lips, before it crumbled down into crying, holding your hand with his left one as if it was a lifeline...

the rest of the night went like that: you trying to calm Oliver down, and him crying... until he tired out from crying and relaxed to sleep. Poor boy. You got up from your kneeling position, and opted to instead sit on a velvet chair nearby, and try to think about everything...

────୨ৎ────

Richard Enfield was known to be a gentleman with a smile always present on his face, but this time... there was no reason to smile. He was completely bamboozled by this Mr Hyde... he did just as he promised to do that morning, go to the bank and try to show this man's lies... only to be met with the fact he was truthful somehow?! 

And so, he left that side of town via the same carriage he sent his wife in (which came back just as promised), to come back home. Oh, his sweet precious wife.. He never understood how a man could ever see his woman just as his extension. To him, you were the whole world... Maybe it was also a factor that your newfound marriage wasn't fully out of betrothal (as he was the one who asked for your hand in marriage after having a few rendezvous at his manor or in Hyde Park, where he had his branding "She's the one!" thought that wouldn't go away), but he truly saw you, his wife, as an equal... maybe even a higher being than him.

He couldn't wait to get into bed, hold you in his arms and kiss you senseless, until you both fell asleep peacefully... after all, he had to show you all his love before the afternoon walk with Gabriel Utterson, his maternal second degree cousin... he had to share the stories about his honeymoon to Glasgow with his precious wife to him.

Once he got inside the manor, the maids and butlers fussed continuously about their master, asking where he was, and that his wife was currently taking care of a street rat... wait... his wife was taking care of a street rat?

"Pardon?!" Master Enfield was clearly upset and confused. Not at his wife, but at the notion that somebody would DARE take advantage of her kindness! "How could you possibly let a street rat in this house?! AND LET MY DEAREST WIFE WITH IT?!" He yelled at the servants. "Lead where this ragamuffin is NOW!" 

Never once did the servants see their master like this. He was known as the gentleman with the most soothing voice in all of London by both the higher and lower classes. Ever since he'd gotten engaged with the brand new Mistress Enfield, had he began losing his temper easier... but the servants had to obey their master either way...

As he walked inside the guest room he saw the thief in his house! A street urchin sent to take the riches of his! COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!

But then he saw you on the chair... and his eyes softened. You were sleeping on the chair... positioned to guard the small boy... oh truly what an angel you were... but Richard still had to have a word with you... as much as it hurt.

"(Name)...my dearest (Name)..." he shook your shoulder to wake you up. It was sad to disturb your peace (for Richard at least), but he really needed your word on this situation. To hear what was on your mind, to bring a stranger in the house.

When you finally looked at him with drowsy eyes, you looked surprised to see your husband. "Enfield..."

"My dearest, we're closer than being on a last name basis, did you forget?"

"Oh... no, Richard..."

You saw the faux patient look on his face. You had to give him credit, he was trying his hardest, but you understood quickly that he wanted answers for... little Oliver's appearance. You yawned, looking at the young boy, still asleep under the red duvet cover with sprawled arm and legs. He looked as if he hasn't slept since he was born from how at peace he looked.

"You know exactly what's wrong, don't you?"

No response.

Your silence was making him impatient, but he couldn't possibly be impatient with his wife... well, now he was. Rather gentle, but still impatient. "(Name), you know urchins only want to steal valuables, no? We can't trust one in this household!"

"But he's wounded, my love..." 

"He's still capable of doing bad things! Even more now that you're vulnerable!"

"He's the vulnerable one here!" 

Enfield was shocked. You brought an impostor in the house... a thief... and you started protecting him. He should be angered... he should yell your head out until you'd understand what you've done!... His once warm eyes hardened at how you were talking to him, with that raised up voice.

...But oh, how your eyes looked shocked too... his eyes though cold as ice, started melting into tears, as he couldn't see anymore. "Oh my beautiful, stubborn, saintly wife! Only a goddess like you could be so humble and kind to such a creature!"

His knees buckled as he fell at your legs, his hands draped against your lap and his forehead on your knees, as he began sobbing. You didn’t know what to do exactly. He was acting like he has done a crime and you were some kind of Christ Figure forgiving him.

“What have I done to be so lucky getting a wife like you!” he cried, pulling more and more on your dress as a way to cope with the emotions he was feeling. Oh, how he loved you! You truly were too good to be real.

“Richard… what are you doing?!” the quiet shriek of his goddess of a wife’s voice was what broke him out of his trance. When he’d realize what an utter buffoon he seemed to be like, his ears dusted a deep shade of red. “My dearest, do not think I’ve meant to do this with any ill intent! I just love you so much! You’re too good to be real!” He lifted his hands from where he held her, and just looked at her. Really looked at her. “I apologize for being such a repulsing mutt… You know… when I first saw you… your portrait at our painter’s house.I felt so warm… Your eyes really caught me in… Oh but the real overwhelming warmth started when we met at that ball hosted by the duke of Sussex… You were even more beautiful than the painting!… And that dance, it was dazzling! I knew in that night that you’d be my wife! And I’m oh so happy that’s our reality!… Your (e/c) eyes… they have not lost a bit of shine from them… my beautiful (Name)… my dearest (Name)…”

“Richard… you must be so tired from what happened earlier with Mr… whatever his name was… And I understand how you feel seeing a child that’s not your own in your house…I can’t blame you one bit for how you’ve acted…” You tried being gentle with him. Just put him to bed (Name)… that’ll calm him down…

“You…you can’t?” he stuttered, his voice trembling. If only not for his attire, literally nobody would think this man was a noble… but you found the whole lovesick puppy personality attractive…

“Not one bit.” you smiled at him, kissing away a tear from his cheek. And thus, you left the child to rest for a bit, to instead join your dearest husband… or actually the husband from this dream… oh well!

And so once you got into bed, you fell into slumber again, too tired to wait for him as he seemed preoccupied in the dressing room… he was probably trying to choose what piece of sleepwear he should wear. It wasn’t important as you went back to sleep.

────୨ৎ────

When the sun shined, Richard didn’t want to leave your side, but he had to. He got dressed and went to check on the unfortunate urchin which, like a tumor, inhabited his safe space now.

Opening the door, he saw the mop of blond hair, looking at his shoulder first and then at the man. He looked no older than twelve, probably even younger from how skinny he looked. Only his height and just teeny tiny bit of maturity on his features most likely from trauma aging his features up. Everybody could see he was a child, but nobody could simply guess how old he was. And Richard cared more about the reasoning behind why he was inside his home, rather than sentimental get-to-know bullhunky.

“I see you’re awake… urchin.” he muttered, trying to appear kind, though he wasn’t pleased in any way.

“I am… where is lady (Name)?” Oliver was expecting the answer to be something along the lines of “she called the authorities, you puny brat!”. After all, nobody truly cared for him. Why now some noble woman?

But the words that left your husband’s mouth surprised the boy to tears, even if they had a slight bitterness to them. “Well, my dearest wife is asleep right now. She was acting so… maternal… towards you. Saying we should keep you until you’d heal. Quite a saint, isn’t she?”

“She… she said all that?”

“Don’t take her kindness for granted! You better behave around this house for now.”

Richard knew he should’ve made the ground rules clear in how bitter he was for once, but young Oliver, also known as just “urchin” by him, was more than joyous.

“Really? I can sleep in this comfortable bed as much as I want? Without paying? This is so jolly! Thank you so much, kind sir!”

Enfield felt weirded out by how now the urchin was wiping his tears with one hand, choking on the tears which showed how happy he was.

“Strange child you are… urchin. Well, so long.” and with that he left, to meet with his distant cousin, Gabriel Utterson, the revered lawyer of all London. He just had to share what happened during nighttime… both with the enigmatic Mr Hyde, and with this raggamuffin sleeping under his roof.