STRANGERS

This novel is exclusive to Web Novel, if you find it posted other than this website please contact me through the chapter comments. Thank you.

December 31, 1894 -New Year's Eve

"Forgive me, Count. I did not intend to interrupt, but Giselle has arrived earlier than foreseen," informed Carrick. The butler always felt like he was being pulled between the two terrors of the De Sang Household.

Giselle drifted forward into the room. She had a furious look on her face. "What is happening here? Who is that? And why is she in my bed-chamber?" Giselle glowered at Dante as she demanded answers.

"Giselle! Watch your impudent mouth." It infuriated Dante, at the way she talked to him. The Count would not tolerate being spoken to in such a manner. He was the Master of the estate and demanded the utmost respect from those that served him. His eyes shone with annoyance at Giselle's conduct.

Giselle's tone changed instantly when she saw Dante's temper flare. "S-s-sorry, Master. I-I was just taken by surprise. This was all unexpected to find."

Rose also noticed the drastic shift in mood and surveyed how the two handled each other. She worried Dante was a tyrant at managing his estate and the people in it, Rose feared that eventually, one day soon, he would tire of her and treat her the same. He would try to control her the exact same way as the others that surrounded him. Rose also speculated that the Count was holding back his evil nature. She saw Giselle shrink back when Dante glared and barked at her.

"They have shifted your belongings to the room on the right of mine. You may leave now. I will speak with you shortly." Dante was short with his second in charge and waved her off.

Giselle whipped around to the door and gracefully left the room without further questions or argument.

"I'm sorry about that, Rose. She is my lieutenant and the second in command of the estate. Giselle has a habit of being guarded and overprotective. A bit territorial, if you get my meaning. Sometimes I have to remind her of her place and who the Master is around here."

"Speaking of Giselle, I'll have her start your etiquette lessons once you feel better. She will assist you while here at Dragonwood. We should have formal introductions tomorrow. For now, I think you need to sleep."

"Come here, darling," Dante placed his hand on Rose's forehead and sighed."..., I see the fevers returned. You will require more rest". Dante surveyed Rose's reddened cheeks and saw her eyes were still bloodshot. Her evening had been overwrought with excitement, and it was catching up with her. "You must take the medication." He swept the back of his hand on her forehead and could feel the heat radiating from her body. Dante gave her another spoonful of the laudanum, and Rose chased it down with a ginger snap cookie and tea.

Her father tucked her back in the bed, kissed her head, and closed the canopy curtains. He knew she wasn't a child, but she was sick. He wanted to comfort her. Before leaving the room, her father asked. "Rose? What does Oscar look like, and where is he?"

She answered Dante in a sleepy, drug-induced stupor, "Mmmmm... He's a grey and white tabby. Give him fish and chips. I promise he will follow your instructions and be on his best behavior. He lives in Mr. Crowder's greenhouse of roses." Rose yawned and started drifting quickly into the twilight of the medicine.

Dante chuckled at her answer. He knew it was the laudanum talking. Stepping out into the hall, the Count called for the butler, Carrick. "Ready, the coach. I'm returning to Covent Garden immediately. Please fetch a can of sardines from the cook, too. Have Giselle join me. I will converse with her on the way." Dante commanded.

"Yes, Your Grace. Right away," The butler hurried off to fulfill what the Count had asked—wondering why he would need sardines. Was he going to eat them? Certainly not, thought Carrick.

***

Giselle sat in the carriage and looked at Dante with great disdain. She was tired from her travel and wanted to rest. She inquired of her Master. "Your, Grace. What is this about?"

"The young lady you saw in the room is why my heart skipped beats and emotions were chaotic. Rose is the holder of the other jewel. Dante held up the pendant from his neck. She is Claire's child, my daughter." The Count smiled at his lieutenant, seeing her squirm in discomfort at the news.

Giselle's eyebrows knitted, and she felt her stomach twist. This situation was going to become complicated, and it would probably end up being hers. "That can't be true." Giselle was sure the girl she saw in the room was a sham. "Claire has been dead and gone for centuries. The girl is lying to you, Master." You could hear the doubt in Giselle's voice as she expressed her concerns to Dante.

The Count narrowed his eyes at Giselle and clenched his jaw. "She is not a con. I am not a fool. Do you not think I would have done some looking into this first before I mentioned it? Rose looks just like her mother, and she has my eyes. She was carrying the Dagger of The House De Sang. I'm the one who had that blade made for Claire. She also said she worked in the orchards with her mother. Not to mention her birth year is when Claire refused to meet me anymore. I can reassure you she is my child, with no doubt." Giselle stopped short of arguing with Dante about Rose. She knew he was right. This was a fight she would never win.

"Master, why are we out in this wretched weather at an hour when nothing but pubs and whore houses were open?" Giselle was curious about where they were heading.

"To find some pussy, of course." Dante deadpanned and chuckled at Giselle's contorted face. "Actually, we are going to get Oscar. He is Rose's cat." Giselle rolled her eyes at her Master's response.

'Since when did the Count develop a soft spot for anyone?' Giselle thought her Master had finally lost his mind. Maybe Dante needed to see Sigmund Freud. On second thought, perhaps not. Why expose the good doctor to this crazy, narcissistic demon?

***

After a good night's rest, Jackson met with Christopher for breakfast. Lord Thorn had come up with an idea about trying to reach out to Rose.

"I would like to see if Rose will respond to us through the language of flowers. It will be a good way to communicate with her. I hope she understands the messages," expressed Christopher. He sat at the table, drinking coffee and eating a piece of dry toast.

"That could be risky. What if Dante gets suspicious of who is sending her flowers?." Jackson argued. He pulled out a chair and sat at the other end of the dining table to eat and continue discussing their plans.

"Do you have a better plan?" Christopher queried Jackson.

"Not really, so what exactly do you have in mind?"

"Well, we will have Mr. Crowder's greenhouse deliver the flowers. What do you believe our first message should be?" said Christopher.

"How about truce or peace? I think that would be a good place to start," replied Jackson.

"I need the Collier's Cyclopedia from the library. It has a section on communicating with flowers. Could you be a good man and fetch it for us?" Jackson saw The Lord rub his thigh and wince. "I'd do it myself, but this damned injury keeps trying to reopen," stated Christopher.

A few minutes passed, and Jackson returned with the requested digest. The two men rummaged through the book's pages to see which flowers represented peace. Christopher decided he was going to garner a truce with Scarlette Rose.

Blue hyacinths, lily of the valley, white orchids, and herb of grace to say I'm sorry for hurting you, Star of Bethlehem, an atonement to Rose with Olive branches, and lavender to represent a truce to make peace. Lord Thorn browsed through the book for a while to create the message. He wrote out his order for the flowers and asked for them to be made into a small nosegay. Christopher chose the flowers according to the recommendations of the book. He handed the paper to Jackson.

"Give this to Mr. Crowder. He will know what to do. I understand it's New Year's Eve, but I need this made up and delivered today. I don't care about the cost, so spare no expense," asserted Christopher as he watched Jackson place the paper in his pocket.

"Yes, Milord." Jackson bowed and left the Mansion for Mr. Crowder's home in Covent Garden. Christopher saw him ride out on Onyx towards the town. He recognized Jackson had a way with people and could talk them into doing anything he asked. That was the barrister in him.

"I wonder if she will comprehend the message and reply?" Christopher murmured. He was looking out the window at the rain-drenched ground. The weather had been unpredictable the past couple of weeks. The one constant, though, had been the cold and rain.