Author’s
Notes:
A gazillion and one thanks to all you wonderful readers and reviewers. And as
much as I would love to ramble on and on about things that barely make sense,
I’ll just allow you to read the story. Many thanks again to my sister-in-crime
for making this presentable enough. ^^
Enjoy!
Chapter Four:
Fall
A
thick gray fog heralded the early morning air as the dull sounds of a carriage
approaching the large house filled the relative silence. Two men, each holding
small oil lamps, stood by the huge iron wrought gates, their figures a dark
silhouette within the mist. It was rather chilly during this time of the year.
The sepia leaves had begun to fall and trees lay bare as they prepared for the
winter ahead. It didn’t help that heavy rain had fallen overnight causing most
of the land to become muddy. The carriage came to a slow halt beside the men
and its driver tipped his hat with a light bow.
“Good
morning, gentlemen,” he greeted with a smile that revealed teeth that looked
decayed and in need of a dentist. “I brought the boy for ya. Fresh off the
market, he is.”
The
taller of the two men on the ground stepped closer. He raised the lamp to peer
into the covered carriage, intelligent brown eyes squinting to make sure he
wasn’t seeing things.
“This…this
is who you brought to us? He doesn’t look any older than ten!”
The
driver made a small sound of exasperation before jumping off his seat to stalk
towards them.
“Now
listen ‘ere, fellas. I didn’t come all the way from Dinkers just to get shut
out now. You promised me a hundred dollars…”
“If
you brought us an able-bodied young man, Jergens,” the man retorted angrily.
“You brought us a mere child! I doubt he can even work in the goddamn fields!”
“He
can work alright! I seen it for meself!” Jergens protested vehemently. “This
boy can lift a ton of stuff. He was working in them mines for chrissakes.”
The
man stared into the carriage again. The boy was curled up in a fetal position
completely dead to the world. He had shocking blond hair, his face was rather
grimy with dirt but one could tell that his features were extremely fair and
could almost make one assume he was of the female sex. His feet were bare and
just as dirty; his clothes were mere rags consisting of a gray tunic and short
pants that stopped a little ways below the knee. Could this boy actually be as
strong as Jergens proclaimed? But then again, who was he to believe a con man
that was capable of making up stories as quickly as he could drive his
carriages.
“Come
here, Alfred,” the man ordered curtly as he motioned for the other man to join
him. “What do you think?”
They
both stared and this time the boy seemed to stir a little as if realizing he
was being watched rather closely.
“He
does look small…” the younger man named Alfred began softly.
“Do
you think he can work for you, son?”
The
boy opened up his eyes slowly, his body becoming tense as the vague sounds
became louder and clearer in his mind. It looked like they had finally arrived
at their destination. After two days of trying to escape and always being
caught and brought back to this smelly carriage, they had finally reached his
new home. He remained still, not wanting to give away his awakened state. The
voices speaking were a bit more cultured and refined – not the crass and crude
language he had had to live with all his life.
“…work
for me…personally…”
“Hey!
Do I get paid or not?”
“Shut
up, Jergens! We’ll deal with you much later.”
“Hey,
now that ain’t in the deal…”
“You
can wake up now, my boy,” came the gruff but rather gentle tone from his
possible new owner. “You don’t have to keep pretending anymore.”
The
boy sighed to himself knowing that continuing to put on the act might only get
him into more trouble. He sat up slowly, feigning weariness as he blinked at
the two men and a hovering Jergens in the background. The older man who had
spoken to him looked just as he sounded – refined. He looked like he was in his
forties, handsome with dark brown hair and a mustache, which made him appear
distinguished. His eyes were a deep black, quite similar to the younger man
standing beside him. The one called Alfred had a striking resemblance to his older
counterpart and there was no doubt in the boy’s mind that they were father and
son. Alfred’s hair was on the darker side – almost black and he looked like he
was in his early twenties. He wasn’t smiling, neither was he looking upset.
There was just a blank passiveness on his features that was a bit unnerving to
the blond.
“What’s
your name, boy?” the older man asked kindly. “My name’s Theodore Dunhill and
this is my oldest son, Alfred. We will be your new owners…”
“So
it’s a done deal now, eh? I can leave now, eh? So where’s my money?!” Jergens
all but screamed in delight at managing to strike a good deal.
“Shut
it, Jergens,” Alfred mumbled. “So…” He looked towards the boy again. “Tell us
your name.”
He
sounded like a no-nonsense kind of guy, the boy thought quickly. He had a
feeling that making Alfred upset was not going to be a good idea and so sitting
up properly, he gave a small bow and mumbled softly.
“My
name is Quatre Rebarba Winner.”
“Quatre,”
Theodore rolled the name off his tongue with a small smile. “That’s quite a
unique name. And how old are you, my boy?”
Quatre
refused to look at Jergens as he lowered his gaze and bit his lower lip. He had
been given specific instructions on the way there. He would have to lie about
his age or he would never be able to get work. Of course telling most people
his fabricated age had not exactly been believed but he made up for it with his
diligence to his duties.
“Sixteen,”
he finally muttered. “I am sixteen years old.” In about a year, he added inwardly.
Theodore,
of course, didn’t look as if he believed him but all he did was shrug and
motion for Jergens to release the boy. “I’ll pay you once we get inside,” he
said quickly as he noticed the driver about to protest again. “Alfred, why
don’t you take Quatre to the servants’ quarters and tell him what he has to
do.”
The
oldest heir gave a curt nod and stepped aside to allow the blond some room to
pass. Standing beside Alfred, Quatre felt even smaller and he cursed his ill
luck at being so small for his age. He wiggled his toes in the cool grass,
lifting his head to the heavens as he breathed in the fresh morning air. This
was not the choking smell of coal and soot from the mines. This was clean and
invigorating, the likes of which he had not breathed in a long time – if at
all.
“You
can stop daydreaming now,” Alfred muttered as he began to stride towards the
house. “Remember, you are now to become my personal servant and you will assist
me in my daily duties no matter what they are.”
Quatre
followed quickly, sharp aquamarine green eyes glancing at everything as fast as
he could so as not to miss much. He could see a few servants already working in
the barns and the low neighing sounds signaled the presence of several houses.
He spied several well-made carriages being washed by some boys about his age. A
few maids were already making their way towards the garden – some laughing
softly amongst themselves as they went about their business. Several men were
on their way to the large expanse of land behind the house and Quatre didn’t
even need to look at the huge mansion to know that he was in the home of a
wealthy man.
“Alfred!
Alfred!” came the sudden cheerful cry from a young man who was still dressed in
his sleepwear. He had long black hair that needed to be combed and he looked no
older than Quatre. The boy running towards them was waving a sheet of paper in
his hands and he looked quite pleased with himself.
“I
did it!” he panted harshly as he stopped before them, bending slightly with
hands placed upon his knees, trying hard to catch his breath. “I… did… it,
Alfred!”
“You
did what now, Joshua?” the older man replied as he plucked the paper out of the
trembling hand. “Hmmm…”
Quatre
watched with interest as the young man stood upright, his piercing blue eyes
sparkling with excitement, his face flushed with exertion and yet excitement.
Joshua was practically hopping from one foot to the other.
“So
you made it to the University with another one of your quack inventions, hmm?
What did you do this time? Invent something to fix up the loose screw in your
head?”
Quatre
winced inwardly at the insult, noticing the hurt look that flashed in those
blue eyes before they were quickly masked with defiance. “I worked hard at it,
big brother! I spent hours working on this thesis for…”
“I
am not really interested today, Joshua,” Alfred interrupted as he ruffled his
younger brother’s hair. “Why don’t you go bother Marcus or Julius, hmm?”
“Wha…”
The boy stopped and slumped his shoulders in defeat. Quatre had the feeling
that this wasn’t the first time Joshua had been ignored like this and a little
part of his heart felt sorry for him. “Who’s he?” the inventor suddenly asked,
causing the blond to blink in surprise as he suddenly found himself staring
into a pair of curious blue depths.
Alfred
made a small sound of impatience and began to walk towards the house again.
“He’s my new servant, Joshua. Now why don’t you go help mother or something.”
“How
come I don’t have a servant?” the younger man whined childishly as he began to
follow them, still eyeing Quatre with undeniable interest. “Are you a eunuch? I
hear that most servants that are bought are eunuchs.”
“That’s
enough, Joshua!” Alfred snapped with barely controlled anger. “Now get lost
before I give you a good one.”
The
younger brother made a low sound of defiance before running away from his angry
brother and into the house. Quatre tried to hide his smile while wondering if
this was the way his new life was going to be.
A
Eunuch? Now that was one description he had never heard before. And as he
followed Alfred into the friendly confines of the Dunhill mansion, he knew he
would have to embrace this life, which was undoubtedly a blessing in disguise.
~*~
Cromwall, Present Day
The
doctor took another sip of his now tepid coffee, his brow furrowed in thought.
“But
where did he come from? You say the mines…the only mines I know of at that
time…”
“Were
those in the Southern portion of the country,” Relena replied quickly. “If
Jergens had come from Dinkers – which would have been a whooping three days of
travel – think of how long it would have taken Quatre from Pickens!”
“Hmmm…that
is a long trip.”
“I’m
thinking that Quatre must have been born there.”
“Where?
Pickens?”
The
girl nodded and reached for a small leather bound book with frayed edges. She
opened it carefully to a place she had book marked. “Look at this, doctor. This
is a list of all the children born in Pickens in 1799. I don’t see ‘Quatre’ as
he is listed in the Dunhill mansion, but I do see a ‘Rebarba’. See?
Down….there…”
And
sure enough, written in rather hasty cursive and almost hidden within the
others was:
Rebarba –
blond hair, green eyes –son of
Quatrina, father – unknown, born
October 16th 1799
The
doctor ‘hmmed’ again and frowned in even deeper thought. “Just Rebarba? He
could be anyone.”
“Blond
hair, green eyes?” Relena countered with a snicker. “I think it’s the very same
guy.”
“Immigrant?”
“That
would be my guess. It wasn’t uncommon to see a lot of them at that time.
Everyone was seeking a better life.”
“So…what’s
the big deal about him?” The doctor asked in confusion. “He was born in Pickens
that much we know…”
Relena
nodded quickly and held up her hand as if to ward off the doctor’s words. “Yes,
but this was what caught my eye and had me very worried, sir.” She turned
several more pages in the book and came to a section with the words ‘Deaths’
written above it.
“Do
you remember the great flu plague of 1801, doctor?” she asked solemnly.
“Yes,
I do,” J replied with a small nod. He could feel a reluctant quickening of his
heartbeat as he leaned forward in his chair. He could see that Relena’s
features were growing paler by the second and he knew that he would have to get
the story out of her by tonight before she left completely. It would not take
long before her subconscious realized that it no longer had a real body. It was
going to be a painful thing for the young girl to accept but for now, her job
was not yet done.
“Look
at this then, sir.” She pointed at the list of names and J could feel his mouth
go dry as he read the words over and over again.
Rebarba –
caught flu – died July 4th 1806
“Im…Impossible…”
he whispered thickly. “He couldn’t have died…at that age…”
“He
did,” Relena finished somberly. “He died of the flu – plague – at eight years
old. So how is it possible for him to come back to life?”
How
indeed, the doctor thought as he tapped his walking stick restlessly on the
floor. Just how in the world could the dead walk among the living?
~*~
Winter
Quatre
polished the last of the silverware and wiped the sweat off his brow with a
small sigh. It was extremely hot in the room as Theodore had insisted on having
a million and one logs thrown into the fireplace to create the right amount of
heat to warm them up. The first few inches of snow that had fallen overnight
dusted the landscape in white and Quatre would have been a fool not to realize
that it was a breathtaking sight to see. It had rarely snowed in Pickens and
whenever it did snow, he was either stuck underground in the inky blackness of
the mines or too sick to move much.
He
stood beside the window and watched the children of one of the cooks make
snowmen outside. He smiled softly at their antics, his hands absently polishing
the knife he held as he strained to catch their singing voices. It was quite
comforting to listen to the Christmas carols as they set just the right mood
for the upcoming holidays.
But
despite the deceptive tranquility of the surroundings, there was no doubt that
trouble lay underfoot and the low murmuring of a possible war breaking out
between the neighboring countries was bound to happen. Quatre had witnessed a
few important looking men coming in and out of the mansion the past few days.
Theodore, Alfred and Julius had been quite tense recently and their poor
mother, Margaret, could barely deal with the way her men were beginning to act
around her. Quatre sometimes had the feeling that the woman wished for a
daughter or two to keep her company. It must have been hard having to deal with
four boys and a husband who was rarely at home.
He
placed the last spoon into the cabinet and nearly jumped out of his skin as he
lifted his gaze to notice the reflection of the boy standing behind him.
Placing a hand against his thudding heart, Quatre managed a smile and a light
bow in greeting.
“Master
Marcus. What…do you need me for anything?”
The
youngest Dunhill was a year younger than the servant and over the course of
three months in their household; the blond had become more of a friend to him.
Marcus looked more like his mother than the others. He had acquired the raven
locks and green eyes that were distinctively Margaret. He was often called the
favorite and was babied a lot, but Marcus didn’t seem to mind – in fact, he barely
paid much attention to it.
At
the moment, Marcus seemed to be blushing as he stepped further into the room.
“Are you busy right now, Quatre?” he asked timidly.
“Oh
no, I am all done here, Master,” the blond replied quickly as he began to walk
towards the other boy. “Is there something wrong?”
Marcus
lowered his lashes and mumbled something that had Quatre straining to catch
what he had uttered. “What was that, Master Marcus?”
“There
is this…this…girl,” Marcus began quickly, his cheeks growing even redder by the
second. “You do know Miss Stephanie from the Murdock household, don’t you?” At
Quatre’s nod, he continued quickly.
“Well…she…she…she…shekissedmetodayandIdidn’tknowwhattodoandIranawayandnowIfeellikesuchafool.”
The
servant blinked in confusion at the rush of words before trying to make sense
of them. “Ah, so you and Miss Stephanie shared your first kiss, is that right,
Master Marcus?”
If
it were any more possible, the younger boy blushed again and nodded softly.
Quatre grinned and placed a reassuring hand upon the other’s shoulder. “What’s
there to worry about then, master? It’s clear that she has her eye on you. You
should consider yourself lucky.”
“Yes,
but…but…”
“But
what, master?” Sometimes, Quatre wished the boy wasn’t so shy. Getting Marcus
to talk at times like these was a chore in itself.
The
younger lowered his head and mumbled again. “I have never kissed a girl before
and I wouldn’t know what to do the next time that happens. Perhaps I could…”
The
next words out of the boy’s mouth had Quatre’s eyes widening in disbelief.
Surely his young master couldn’t be serious…could he?
“Please,
Quatre!” Marcus pleaded desperately. “It will only take a little while and I
will let you be. We can practice now if you would like.”
“But…we
are both…boys, master,” the blond protested a bit weakly, refusing to
acknowledge the dull heat that was beginning to seep through his body. The very
thought of engaging in such an act no matter how innocent it seemed to be was
wicked in the sight of society but yet tempting and quite hard to resist.
Marcus was ‘pretty’ enough. He would just have to close his eyes and pretend
that the boy was Miss Stephanie and get this over with. Quatre had never even
kissed anyone before and so this was going to be a learning experience for him
as well.
He
just prayed that no one would walk by any time soon.
“All…all
right, master,” he mumbled thickly as he stepped closer to the red-faced teen.
But what should he do now? He had only caught a few of the servants performing
such an act; it shouldn’t be too hard, should it? He placed both hands upon
Marcus’s shoulders and leaned forward, his lashes drifting shut as he tried
hard to still his pounding heart. He could feel the boy tremble before him. He
could now feel Marcus’s warm but ragged breath against his lips. Just a few
inches more and then…
“What
in God’s name is going on here?!”
Margaret’s
screech was like a douse of icy water on the two boys. They jumped apart so
quickly that they almost lost their footing. Quatre watched in growing
embarrassment and humiliation as he listened to Marcus try to appease his angry
mother. A few other servants – the maids – stood in the background either
snickering or giggling. Quatre knew without a doubt that it was going to be the
talk of the quarters tonight – as if he didn’t have it bad enough already being
Alfred’s personal servant.
“Get
out!” Margaret bellowed as she held Marcus tightly to her bosom to pin cold
eyes on the flushed blond. “Get out and stay in your quarters until you are
called!”
Not
bothering to protest the unjust way he was being treated, Quatre made his way
towards the servants’ section of the house with an inward sigh. He wondered how
Alfred would take the news when he heard it. His master hadn’t been rough on
him, although he had yelled a few times at Quatre whenever he made a mistake,
but it still didn’t ease the young boy’s mind. He knew he was in trouble again
and he tried desperately to think up some ways to appease his master’s wrath.
As
he placed a foot upon the lower step to make his way upstairs, the familiar
neighing sound of Jergens’s horse had him blinking in surprise. Deciding to
make a quick detour, Quatre walked quickly towards the kitchen, ignoring the
appraising looks he got from a few of his female admirers there. He came to a
halt as he approached the back door, curious aquamarine green eyes staring at
the familiar carriage with anticipation and growing excitement. He had overhead
Theodore saying that he would need more servants for each of his sons as they
were now growing older and since Alfred had Quatre, it was only fair that the
rest of the boys had theirs.
He
watched as Julius, the third son, made his way towards the grinning Jergens and
as they began to talk, Quatre could make out a thick braid that seemed to hang
off the side of the carriage. A sharp knock on its side from the driver had the
door opening up and three young boys – about Quatre’s age – stepping out of it.
All
three boys – each different in their unique way – were dressed in the very same
way Quatre had been when he had arrived three months ago. But they weren’t from
Pickens, the blond knew that quite well and each had a different look of
defiance upon their grimy but handsome features as they awaited their fate.
Julius
paced before them. At eighteen, the young heir was already establishing himself
as the one most likely to succeed in his father’s business as a merchant. One
was almost prone to think that he was the second son instead of the eccentric
Joshua. He stopped before the boy with green eyes and nodded softly to himself.
“You
are mine,” he said clearly as he tapped the boy’s shoulder lightly. “State your
name.”
“Trowa
Barton, sir,” came the calm reply that sent a chill of some indescribable
emotion down Quatre’s spine. Trowa, Trowa, Trowa, he mumbled to himself as he
gaped in awe at the boy. To his embarrassment, he found himself staring into
Trowa’s eyes as the new servant had caught him doing so. Shaking his head
quickly, Quatre forced himself to listen to the others.
“State
your name,” Julius was saying to the one with the black hair that was tied back
in a very severe ponytail.
“Chang
Wufei, sir,” the boy replied matter-of-factly, causing Julius to smirk a
little. There was something about this one that made him quite exceptional and
since Marcus was his favorite little brother, he nodded curtly as he came to a
decision.
“You
will become Marcus’s servant.” Wufei made no reaction to the statement and that
seemed to please Julius as he walked up to the last boy. The young heir met the
boy’s violet gaze, raising a brow as he noticed the utter boredom within his
eyes. He was suddenly glad he had left this one for last and as befitting, this
boy would have the pleasure of working with his odd older brother.
“State
your name, boy,” he asked curtly.
The
boy shifted from one foot to the other and Quatre idly noticed that they were
all wearing flat soled slippers that weren’t very comfortable. He was sure they
were all freezing with their scrappy outfits on. And finally, in a rather loud
and clear voice, the boy answered.
“My
name is Duo Maxwell, sir…at your service.”
This
got a few snickers from some of the servants who were loitering about and
Quatre couldn’t stop himself from chuckling softly at the cheeky look that had
come across Duo’s countenance. He could tell that this one was going to be
different.
Julius
gave a light snort and nodded in acknowledgement. “You will belong to Joshua.”
He spun around suddenly and pointed towards Quatre – who had been ready to make
his way back into the house – and motioned him closer. “Come here, Winner.”
The
servant groaned inwardly and shuffled his way towards the quartet somehow
managing a weak smile towards the boys that were now staring at him in
curiosity.
“Listen
up, boys,” Julius began as he placed a hand upon Quatre’s shoulders. “You are
all going to become personal servants which means that your job involves being
within the mansion. While there, this boy…Quatre Winner will be in charge of
you and your welfare. If you have any complaints, bring them to him and he’ll
let either my father or Alfred know about it. Understand?”
The
boys gave small nods of acceptance and Quatre felt even more uncomfortable at
the tight scrutiny. Just what were they looking at? He was no different than
they.
“Take
them to their rooms, Quatre,” came the soft but firm command. “And have them
ready to meet the family for dinner.”
“Yes,
sir.” He gave a light bow to his master before waving a hand for the boys to
follow him. As he made his way into the kitchen, he reached for an oil lamp and
lit it with hands that trembled slightly. He couldn’t understand why he was
feeling this nervous around them for neither of them had uttered a word to him
since his introduction. He led them up the flight of stairs, passing by the
doors that led to the heirs’ rooms and towards a darker section of the house.
He led them up another flight of stairs – much shorter this time and reached
for the set of keys in his pockets. He was aware that his breathing was a bit
harsh and that he was still trembling as evident of the way the key refused to
make its way into the lock.
“Relax,
Quatre,” Duo muttered with a chuckle as he leaned against a wall and folded his
arms across his chest. “We don’t bite.”
“Wha…?”
Trowa
gave the tiniest hint of a smile and pointed towards the three of them. “We are
just like you. So don’t worry.”
“We
won’t tell, if you don’t,” Wufei added with a firm nod.
“What
are you talking about?” the blond asked even though he could feel his mouth
becoming dryer by the second.
Duo
snickered and leaned closer to the flushed teen. “You…you’ve died once before,
haven’t you?”
Quatre
gripped the doorknob until his knuckles turned white, a sharp burning sting
forming behind his eyes as he watched the brief illusion of children appear
before him for a second. He grit his teeth and shook his head trying to force
away the memory of that dark, cold and awful place he had once been in.
“I
would like for you boys to not say such things that might make you look
foolish,” he retorted icily as he opened up the door and motioned for them to
go in. “I don’t know what you are talking about for I am alive. I have been and
will remain this way for as long as it takes.”
TBC…