Monsters, p.8
Monsters, page 8
part #2 of Gwen Farris Series
Especially about something they had no control over. It was just a thing with her, and probably always would be.
Instead of letting that go on, she changed the subject, asking James how the plans were going as for moving his household, which Ethyl had been helping with. Robert Vernor had been too, lending the Peregrine directly for the move, making it much simpler to manage, so it was a family project and not a secret to anyone.
“Almost ready ma’am. We’re just waiting on word from your father as to transportation for the lot. He wanted to use one of his vessels, so that we can bring some extra equipment. I have to say it’s a bit of a relief, I was a bit taken aback when I learned what it would cost to ship us all by air. This way we can have us a direct flight and it should only take about two days. You couldn’t buy better service than that.” He smiled, holding his hat in hand, face shaved well and hair neatly trimmed, if a little longer than would have been popular back home, just over his collar in the back now. The black had bits of white and gray in it, and the face had a few lines, but the man was probably only in his mid-forties. He looked a bit older, but he worked outdoors most of the time and that took a toll after a while.
Gwen made eye contact with him and spoke firmly, but with a smile.
“Well, you just make sure that Ella knows how much we all appreciate you coming. I know it’s a hardship, but it will be really nice for Bethany and I to see the familiar faces. If you need more time, or funds for travel, please make sure I know.” The words nearly made her roll her eyes, because James wouldn’t mention needing money if he was starving to death, would he? Not likely. She fixed Ethyl with a solid gaze, still feeling a bit peeved over her remarks about Christophe.
“Mother… would you check and make sure they’re really alright? We can use my funds if they need anything to make their trip more pleasant or for their comfort once they’re in place up in Aubrey. Mr. Grimes could see to that portion of things perhaps? I’ll call him to make sure the needed funds are in place.” She nodded as if it were all decided, which oddly enough got the same from Mrs. Vernor.
“Of course dear. Robert and I are happy to cover any expenses, you don’t have to use your allowance for it.” She said it like there was a real risk of Gwen having to break open her piggy bank for it.
She had some mets just building up, even if half of what she was given had been being put back into company stocks. Mainly shipping stock, which was different than the stock market apparently. Each time an airship took cargo someplace, there was an opportunity to buy space on it, so luxury goods and commodities were purchased without a buyer set up ahead of time and sold in different locations. It was a risk, but most of the time it made a bit of money. She hadn’t really been tracking what she had, focusing on training, but a few metric dollars should have added up just from the remainder, even if she’d lost all the money invested. Grimes would have mentioned that if it had happened, she figured.
The offer got her to smile anyway, “thank you mother, that’s very sweet of you. Now, not to be rude to anyone, but I need to get changed and probably try to talk my mother into being alright with this match, and since that may require crying and carrying on you two might want to make yourselves scarce.” Oddly she didn’t have to say any more than that to get the others to leave rapidly. The men here didn’t deal with crying women.
It wasn’t that they didn’t do well with it, they literally seemed to stop functioning when it happened, going silent, looking away, and generally pretended that nothing was going on at all. The idea was to be polite, no doubt, but it left all the men seeming a bit cold and awkward. If the situation hinted at anything delicate, they would, as likely as not, try to flee at the earliest opportunity. Not that it didn’t seem like a good plan, come to think of it, but Gwen had no intention of really breaking down in tears.
Funnily enough, as soon as the bedroom door closed them both inside Ethyl clapped a few times, her face suddenly looking proud.
“Oh, this is incredible! Catching a future Duke would be a coup, I’m sorry that I seemed upset about the decision to make the attempt earlier, but word can get out and I don’t want to seem like a social climber. Have you seen him yet? I have, but it was about ten years ago. I dare say he’s likely changed slightly.” She went to the closet and started sorting dresses for Gwen to try on. Why she’d need to try more than one she didn’t know, but Ethyl had a plan, or so it seemed.
Gwen chuckled as she watched the pile of dresses grow, and blushed as Ethyl added some rather cute underwear to the mix.
“Um, we’ve met, once, but I don’t think he’s going to be seeing those today.” Then, remembering what Darrick had said, she explained the whole thing. Ethyl’s eyes went wide, huge in fact and her voice went low as if to prevent anyone from hearing her.
“Dear… Does the King have you acting as a spy?”
“Pretty much. But, to answer your next question, Christophe really does seem to be a nice guy, so you know, I’m trying to take that part seriously. It’s good practice, if nothing else, and he seems worth the attempt, if I can pull it off.” She felt really funny saying the words, things she’d never really thought would be coming out of her mouth, but Ethyl just nodded and put the cute under things back on the pile.
“In that case, you might need these after all.”
Gwen wondered if it would be rude to teletransport out of the room directly, without giving any warning out of embarrassment. That was probably the case, so she picked up the first outfit and went behind the wooden privacy screen to start changing. She was running out of time after all and being too late would be a bad idea.
If only for her nerves.
Chapter five
Gwen had to hurry, since it was nearing time for her to show up for her date, her nerves wanting her to just rush off regardless of how ready she was or not. Ethyl and one of her servants, a lovely older woman with a make-up kit named Mary, finished putting on war paint and giving her tips as to how to act on her “date”, since it was about a lot more than just getting to know someone. They made it sound more like a job interview, but Gwen had never been on one of those either, so she’d listened carefully, hoping her reactions to things wouldn’t be too far out of place for this world.
It wasn’t going to be easy, not for her. Ethyl seemed to think she’d do all right, as long as she didn’t hit the boy. She’d said it several times, as if it were something Gwen just went around doing. Hitting people at random without cause. Get into a few measly fights and everyone thinks you’re some kind of hardcore psycho or something, which wasn’t the case at all. Possibly. Gwen had to resist a smile at the idea, but even she, as ignorant of proper dating protocol as she was, got the idea that hitting wasn’t a good idea. Not on the first date.
Still, she had to move if she didn’t want to be too late, so said her goodbyes fast and hit the button on her sphere again, coming into place in front of the Duke’s residence, not knowing where she was supposed to meet Christophe at all, or if he even intended to keep the engagement. He might have run off as soon as he had a chance, striking out for the road when no one was looking.
Fortunately the Westmorlands weren’t leaving that to chance and stood waiting for her, with Christophe himself, who held a large brown blanket and a heavy looking wicker basket. He was dressed far more nicely this time, a slightly shiny suit of warm looking material. It wasn’t exactly hot out, so that was probably good. She had on enough layers that feeling the cold overly wasn’t a real threat at least. The air on her face was cool, but the rest of her felt fine. At least as long as it didn’t rain. The sky was a lovely clear blue, except for just a few fluffy white clouds floating by, as if set up to be decorations. A pretty day for an outing, she hoped.
No matter what the regular protocol was, half of the Special Service had shown up to chaperone them it seemed, not just Bethany and Heather. They all wore dress uniforms too, as if it were some kind of special occasion. Bethany looked a little nervous and so did Christophe, but Heather gave the orders and seemed to have an actual plan ready to go. The woman was nothing, if not efficient.
“Posts.” She said softly, her voice just loud enough to hear from the twenty-five feet between Gwen and the rest of them. That got everyone to spread out rapidly, turned away from the crew in the middle in case of outside threat. Christophe stepped forward but didn’t say anything for a long time, just looking at her.
She felt observed and scrutinized. In her whole life that had seldom been a good thing, but for once it felt natural… flattering. At least he smiled at her. His hair was an off blond, the kind of thing often called ginger on television, by people that were color blind or lacked the words for something that wasn’t actually red at all. He stepped towards her, stopping three full paces away. It wasn’t exactly conversational distance, but seemed planned.
“You look lovely, Miss Vernor. Would it be all right if we set up here? Or did you have another place in mind?” His face looked so earnest it was almost breath taking. A genuine thing that seemed to scream that he was trying really, really hard not to blow this thing.
“Anywhere is fine, Mr. Phillips. I came to meet with you after all, not take in the scenery.” She made herself look at him, even though it was uncomfortable staring like that. Ethyl had told her that it was important to make the right amount of eye contact, or the other person would feel rejected.
Too much and she’d seem like a psycho of course. The older women hadn’t said it that way, but it was what they’d really meant. She counted to six and looked away, then back after two seconds. After that she was supposed to hold it for about ten seconds each time. It seemed like a lot to her, but the guy wasn’t hard on the eyes at least. Ethyl had flat out told her to do it and basically said that she’d be promising to do a lot more than hold hands if she did. That was uneasy making, but everyone had told her to do it, have sex, if for different reasons. They did warn her not to do it all that quickly though, or she’d seem too free with her favors. That would be bad, apparently. She had to be just the right degree of tramp, or it could blow the whole deal.
Christophe did all the real work, spreading the blanket and helping her to sit on it. She had to kind of lounge, since crossing her legs would be unladylike. No one had told her that, but she’d seen period television dramas which kind of clued her in. A woman in a skirt or dress didn’t cross her legs. Unless it was a movie where the woman was trying to convey something very different than she was at the moment. That would require a shorter skirt… and no underwear, to make work. Katherine could pull that off at least. Not here, in the Western Kingdom. Maybe in Europa if she ever went back and lost all sense of modesty? The standards for clothing and behavior were a lot looser there.
It was basically Europe, but had been conquered by the Mongols and developed a lot differently, except Briton, which had resisted occupation, but the island was a lot more cohesive than it had been in her world. The different parts of it didn’t bicker at all. They couldn’t have withstood their close neighbors if they had. She’d been to Paris once, but hadn’t gotten to see a lot, having gone just to kidnap a man.
Then she’d had him killed.
It was a dark thought to have on a date, so she smiled as she tried to get comfortable and found it was nearly impossible to do, dressed as she was. Without waiting for an invitation Beth and Heather both sat on the edge of the blanket, and Christophe doled out little lacquered portion boxes to them too, as if it were only expected. They all ignored the other Westmorlands, but if having them that close bothered him, the guy didn’t show it at all. No, he just kept looking at Gwen as if waiting for something.
Was she supposed to say something? It was about to get awkward if she didn’t, but really, she had no clue as to what to say at all. For a second she was about to freak out and had actually started to turn red already, but then took a deep breath and winked at her date. It was brazenly forward, and totally fake, but got a grin from her watchers.
“Alright Christophe, tell me your secrets. What’s your favorite color, how did you do in school, and what do you hope to do with your life in the next five to ten years?” It came out sounding slightly blunt, rather than playful, almost like she was going to hit him if she didn’t get her answers. Beth covered a smile at the words, no doubt thinking it hilarious, but Heather managed not to and Christophe just nodded as if it were actually expected. As if being tortured might just be in the normal pattern of dates for him.
“Brown. I managed to graduate in the top ten percent of my class at Buttonwood and I plan to move into import-export. I know nothing about it, but it has a high return on starting capital if you do it correctly and I do have some connections I can lean on to get started. Family mainly. I know, it’s not exactly self-starting, but I figure I should use whatever I can at first and not stand on pride overly. I… What about you? Same questions? It seems fair after all.” He seemed really shy as he asked, but it really did seem fair to her.
“Blue.” As she said the words she realized that she didn’t know how the heck Katherine had done in school at all, that having never been a topic anyone spoke about with her. Instead of panicking she just made something up that sounded about right, based on what she knew.
“I underachieved in school a bit. Not horrible marks, but I didn’t apply myself, not feeling pressed to do so. I kind of wish I had now that I’ve grown up a little more, but we can’t change the past. Not easily at least. I suppose I could get someone to alter my transcripts, if it becomes important at some point…” She meant it as a joke and smiled, but Christophe didn’t laugh, he just sat forward as if interested.
“That… Do you think you could really pull that off?”
That got her to think for a second, not knowing how to respond. It wouldn’t be that hard to do, the records not being all that protected, and it could probably be hired done, even here. That it wasn’t obvious to someone at his level of things was kind of strange though. Or maybe not that odd, if he was a good person that just lived his life by the rules.
“Um, well, yes. It would take someone that could forge the transcripts, meaning that a copy would be needed to start with, then put into the main storehouse at the school, but it wouldn’t be difficult at all. I don’t think I’d actually bother, to tell the truth. No one really cares what your marks were, they just care about what you can do for them right now. Besides, if I told you that I’d gotten top marks, would you bother checking that out or just believe me? It could be done, but would just be wasted effort for most people, most of the time.” It was probably rude or too blunt, from the look Beth was giving her, but Christophe nodded as if it were pretty darned clever of her.
“And what do you plan to do? Are you making the Special Service a vocation do you think?”
It was a good question. A great one really. So far she’d just kind of done what other people had suggested to her, or what had fallen into her lap. She’d tried to run with it, sure, and even do her best, but they hadn’t been plans really, had they? Not hers at least. So far she hadn’t thought about the future much, kind of thinking that at any moment the drug therapy would kick in and she’d find herself in a straight jacket in a padded room somewhere, back in her real, horribly deformed, body. What did she have planned though, if she didn’t wake up like that?
Not much. So she needed to make something up, didn’t she?
“Well…” She let the words draw out and sighed, then glanced at Beth and Heather, who watched but hadn’t even said boo to Christophe, as if they weren’t really there, other than to raise a fuss if they tried to get it on in the front lawn.
“I’m planning to get engaged to you, and set the date for the wedding about two years off, then I’m going to work my way up through the Vernor shipping airship fleet, learning the ropes as best I can. I might need to get schooling to learn how to pilot one, but if I’m going to take over operations someday, I need to know how it all functions as well as I can. I’ve already worked as a loader, and even an emergency charger for the winter, since the main crystals were too heavy to have sent to the Charges Union by snow sledge. I think that next up would be putting in time as an engineer’s apprentice, then seeing where that leads. I know it sounds very career driven, but it’s a family obligation. It works well with your goals, doesn’t it? Having connections in shipping should help a lot with import-export. I already know some people that can help and have personal investments in that area even.” She batted her eyelashes as if she wasn’t insane. It probably wouldn’t help, because she was pretty sure she was over doing it a lot.
It got a laugh though, from everyone, including some smothered smiles from the Westmorland men standing twenty odd feet away with their backs turned. She couldn’t see it, but the mirth poured off of them. It was a shift in their body posture, maybe even something more than that, like a telepathic signal. They were strong magically after all, and could easily be spreading that kind of thing around if taken off guard, right?
