By Gaslight -- Chapter Six: Wherein Signs of a Conspiracy are Observed (Part Two)
Chapter Six: Wherein Signs of a Conspiracy are Observed and a Grave Wound is Examined
In 1863, Mary Winchester - beloved Wife of John Winchester and adored Mother of Samuel and Deane - was cruelly lost within a fire that claimed the Winchester family's home. Since that day, a bereaved John Winchester has traveled throughout Europe, tracking the foul creature that perpetrated such a cruel trick upon his family; raising his sons to follow in his footsteps.
Twenty-two years later, the Winchester brothers still hunt the beast. Armed with Samuel's inventions and Deane's uncanny ability to bring down any prey, the Winchesters travel through Great Britain and Europe, following clues they receive in the form of mysterious letters - and Samuel's disturbing visions.
Disclaimer: The Winchester boys, even within this incarnation, are regrettably not my creation. Likewise, the idea of the weapons they use owes more to Jules Verne than to my own devising. And while Mr. Winchester's peculiar mode of transport has not yet made an appearance, its particular execution also does not belong to me. However, I will take full and knowledgeable blame for impinging upon your senses with this entirely silly romp through a very different Victorian England.
Word Count: 11217
Pairings (Overall): Deane/OFCs, Samuel/OFC
Rating (Overall): PG - NC-17 (It's a corset-ripper, after all...)
Rating (This Chapter): R (Naughty Victorian escapades and equally inevitable angst.)
Feedback: I would consider you most kind if you would do so.
Summary: Samuel determines that the situation in Westshire is much graver than even he anticipated, while Vertiline makes a shocking discovery of her own at Highchurch Manor.
Miscellaneous: This lovely little homage to Romance and Adventure owes its sparkle to the ever-radiant wenchpixie. Those errors which remain, therefore, are all mine own.
Story Links: A Christmas Carol / By Gaslight
Note: A Christmas Carol is set in 1883, two years prior to the main story in the 'verse.
Chapter Links: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six
Samuel's brow furrowed as he stumbled towards the room he was sharing with his older brother. It occurred to him, after three tumblers of whisky, that he should have paced himself despite the cause for celebration. Winston Hillsworth approved of his plans for courting Vertiline Lucas, the blonde-haired goddess who shared his visions and would - Fate willing - share his life. What were thoughts of moderation compared to the burn of the alcohol in his stomach, or the burst of laughter from his mentor's belly as Lord Hillsworth offered a multitude of congratulations?
Perhaps he should have divulged the secrets of the Winchester family. Samuel conceded that it was not entirely fair to refrain from the disclosure of so dangerous a mystery - but he had no intentions of Vertiline falling prey to the Creature. Too many had already died at the hands of the foul beast, and Samuel would not allow Vertiline to do so. If Deane's theories were correct, his feelings for Vertiline assuredly marked her as a target.
His shoulder brushed a wall, and Samuel paused to catch his bearings. The rings once more flashed before his eyes, a curious symbol upon both that seemed damnably familiar. It was at times such as this that Deane and Samuel would pool their resources and confer between themselves to determine a theory or a solution to their problem - but that was damned difficult to accomplish when one's older brother had gone missing.
Samuel had even located the servant's quarters.
He turned a corner, hearing heavy breathing behind him - directly before the rush of a waistcoat alerted Samuel to the impending attack. The instinct of the chase superseded his intoxicated state, and Samuel whirled - pressing his hand against his attacker's neck as Samuel threw him into the wall. Green-blue eyes narrowed. "Mr. Templeton?"
Francis Templeton's handsome features were distorted into a monster's visage. "Mr. Winchester," the man answered, voice full of contempt and loathing - somewhat choked but angry all the same.
"Why are you following me?" Samuel demanded. He lessened the pressure of his hand, but did not allow Francis Templeton measure in which to pursue another attack.
"You are a devil in disguise, Samuel Winchester. Do not think I am unaware of your trip to Westshire with my intended." Templeton scowled. "It is no matter. I would not have married her once I had her, but I had high hopes of being her first." His eyes twinkled suddenly. "Do you know that her knees are said to be locked? I do not believe that you will be any more successful in stealing Vertiline Lucas' key than the rest of us. Make no mistake, Mr. Winchester. She can work a man into a frenzy. I pined away for months before realizing she would not bend."
"I do not wish to steal her key," Samuel replied. This man is a toad. "And you are not fit to speak her name."
"Are you threatening me, you aesthete intellectual?"
"I do not need to threaten you, Francis Templeton," Samuel returned with a sneer. "A threat implies a position of inequality. I know that in all manner of fisticuffs, pistols and swords that I can thrash you to within an inch of your life." His tone was soft, but full of the urgency any Winchester male could engender when something precious was threatened.
"Are you interested in settling purchase with those words?" Francis Templeton was clearly unimpressed with Samuel's reply. "Are you willing to reconcile your naïve concerns regarding Vertiline Lucas' constant cock-teasing with a duel?"
"No," Samuel returned. "I am simply interested in the surcease of your useless prattle!" He grabbed Templeton by the waistcoat, twisting him away from the wall, and connected his free hand soundly to the odious man's chin. Templeton went sprawling to the floor, landing with sickening thud upon the marble underneath Samuel's feet. "And I warned you, Templeton. You are not fit to speak her name."
"You bast - " Francis Templeton's eyes appeared glazed, and he moaned - half-rising to his feet before falling back to the ground.
Samuel knelt beside him. "The next time I hear you relay such a misguided representation regarding so gentle a lady, I will ensure that you never speak again." There was no arguing with his cold tone, a Winchester's wrath against those who would harm the innocent. The man did not need to know that Samuel would not act upon the words; it was enough to merely convince Francis Templeton that he would. "Do you understand, Templeton?"
The man nodded.
Samuel smiled. "Then we are done." There was the shuffle of footsteps behind him, but he was too angry to care about a witness. "As soon as you are capable, you will go to Winston Hillsworth and remove your suit upon his ward. I will not ask you to leave in shame, Francis Templeton, but you will accede all manner of politeness towards those who fall under my protection. Vertiline Lucas is no longer your concern."
Francis Templeton said nothing to his speech, though his glassy eyes watered and his nostrils flared. There came a sigh from behind them, and Samuel recognized Wharrow. The head butler stepped from the shadows, placing an arm underneath Templeton's and helping the man stagger to his feet. The butler glanced at Samuel with a small smile. "Nicely done, sir. I have been wishing to take that exact measure for some time now." The butler's eyes widened, but he said nothing else - turning to walk Templeton down the hall.
Samuel felt a hand slip into his own, and he turned to face Vertiline Lucas. Her blue eyes were wide, and she looked so unsettled that he placed both hands upon her arms to steady her. "Samuel Winchester?" she said softly.
"Yes?"
"Why are you not kissing me?"
"I have no idea," Samuel returned, bringing his mouth down upon hers soundly, pressing her backwards against the wall. Vertiline Lucas gave a small sigh as she opened her mouth to his, and she tasted as sweet as the rain swept air on a summer's day.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
I should know better than to ask the obvious question regarding what action could surpass a previous surprise, but I asked it this morning all the same as Samuel Winchester and I walked towards Westshire in the midst of a rainstorm.
The more appropriate question, I would surmise, is when the life of Vertiline Lucas grew to include answers for questions I had not yet conceived - when the impossible became true.
I wonder if my cousin is asking herself the same questions.
Aunt Cecily would understand this need. She was raised to see the signs around us, symbols and messages hidden within the wind or the songs of birds. She would say that truth is written in the earth itself, and that one can find any answer if one is diligent in the search. She believed in the impossible.
Just like the Winchesters.
They are a topic upon which I could expound for hours, Dear One, and still not provide a proper understanding regarding the conundrum they represent to our life at Highchurch. How did they know that such an occurrence would pass? Samuel has said he did not have a vision that led him here, yet they are here all the same. And he is worried about what we discovered in town - signs, he said, of something much larger than even he had anticipated, with clues that he had not yet uncovered.
That should be the important task, helping them solve this mystery, and yet my mind cannot still the memory of his lips upon mine - or how I wished he had pursued something less chaste than simply a kiss.
To be honest, Dear One, it was more than a kiss. Several of them in point of fact, each more frenzied than the last until we were forced to accede that we were in danger of someone spying upon us. I am afraid I was terribly improper. There is certainly something to be said for living in the moment despite the fear that seems to choke us when we stop to remember the creature that is rampaging through the countryside - harming innocent people like Pucky Childers.
I do not expect the next several days will be easy ones, nor yet the days that come afterwards - when their mission will take them somewhere else upon the Continent. Every hunt could be their last. And that? That is something that I do not wish to contemplate, even though I know that I must.
Yet I cannot quite encompass the fact that Samuel Winchester wishes to say something more serious to me - something which he has not yet relayed. There is nothing he could say that will change my decision, of course. But it seems to frighten him all the same. I wonder if it is somehow related to his visions?
There is still so much more that I should relay, but the evening meal will be soon upon us - and I promised Samuel that we would confer with Penelope and his older brother upon its conclusion. I suspect that this evening will end with another night of tramping across the countryside, trying to stop the Creature before it attacks someone else.
Now if only I can convince Samuel to allow me to use one of his guns...
A/N:
Samuel and Vertiline skirted the very edges of propriety in this chapter by traveling to Westshire unattended, given their age and position. Even though Vertiline is being courted by another man, they should not have been traveling without a chaperone. (And it does amuse me that Penelope, as a widow, would have been an appropriate choice despite her behavior...) Given that they are presently in the country, they might have had more leeway - Vertiline's reputation would not have been diminished as much as it might have been in more urbane landscape.
I suspect my feminist tendencies have come into play as a result of both female main characters. Both Penelope and Vertiline are victims of their circumstances, but I hope that I am giving them the power to move beyond those boundaries. Something which would not have been possible with more "typical" gentlemen than the Winchesters.
I was originally going to have Samuel accept Templeton's duel, but decided otherwise. It was more satisfying to have him punch Templeton instead.
Next chapter marks the debut of x-ray lenses for the night goggles. Happy belated birthday, quellefromage!
As always, criticism is welcome and comments makes me dizzy. (Well, dizzier. I am, by nature, a very dizzy fangirl.)