James rubbed his temples as Liz fretted around the house, yet again worrying over tiny details that escaped his notice. This time it was it was a slight stain on the foyer carpet, hardly visible against the pattern. Two days ago it was a slight bit of dust on a shelf that had led to the staff being enlisted to eradicate any traces of dust across the entire house. In the grand scheme, such things weren't worth noticing. But to Liz, it was an emergency that necessitated her kneeling down and scrubbing it herself since even the maids couldn't see what she was pointing at.
He knew it was because the press was hounding the family after Alfred's passing, and that Liz was frantic because she had no idea what was going on and hated being kept out of the plans. It wasn't even her part of the family that was moving forward, by all rights she barely had to wear mourning. Alfred was only a cousin after all, but with the war it seemed like al propriety had been thrown out the window.
James loved Liz, truly and deeply, and he hated to see her like this. It needed to be rectified. So, he took himself down to the foyer, stepping into her field of vision. She glanced up, and he sighed. "You're going to hate this, but I found another stain."
Liz groaned, struggling to her feet. "Where?"
"Our sitting room, I don't know how I missed it."
He watched as his wife ran her hand down her face, "Alright, could you bring the bucket up?" James nodded, grabbing the bucket and rag that she had been using to scrub at the stain. He glared at the carpet as they left, he was confident that there had never been a stain in the first place. And now his wife had sore knees that she complained about as they climbed the stairs to their rooms.
He gently touched her shoulder when she paused on a landing to rub at her knees, "Perhaps a hot bath could help?"
"There's no point to it if I'm going to be scrubbing again." She grumbled, but she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You enjoy it for me."
James pursed his lips, but stayed quiet until they reached their rooms. He rested a hand on the knob, gently turning it. He was very glad that Liz had not carried the bucket, for a white blur shot out of the sitting room and launched itself at her. Liz gave a squeal, tumbling back onto her rear and saved from serious injury by the plush runner that ran down the hallway.
She was batting at the very stubborn, and affectionate, puppy. "James! James, help!"
He set the bucket down, joining her on the floor. He gently tugged at the puppy's collar. "Now, now, let her up. She's going to be glad to meet you, but she has to be able to see."
Liz was glaring at him as she sat up, flipping her chestnut hair over her shoulder. "What is that?"
"This," James lifted the puppy's front paws up, smiling. "Is your new friend so you stop worrying over everything so much."
She raised an eyebrow, "And you think a dog will help with that."
"You know how much Anastasia enjoys Rigel," He gently shoved the puppy towards Liz. "I thought you might like one of your own."
She held out a hand, still suspicious. "She is rather cute." The puppy, hearing herself referred to, gave an excited yip and her tail began to wag. It was already curling over on itself slightly, and the black nose sniffed Liz's hand before a perfect pink tongue slipped out to lick it. James could see Liz melt at that, her voice a sigh. "Oh, she is precious."
"And she needs a name." James sidled over to sit beside his wife, who had collected the puppy into her lap and was petting her. "Any ideas?"
Liz considered the fuzzy white ball in her lap, "What breed is she?"
"The breeder said a Pyrenees, usually used for guarding livestock." James blushed a bit, "I thought it might be helpful to have a large dog to protect you, since it has worked so well for the Murdochs."
She smiled down at the puppy, who yawned. "Then, as a protective female dog, I think Athena is an appropriate name." Liz leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "You know she's going to leave hair everywhere."
"She's not the only one," James chuckled, leaning onto her shoulder. "I'm going to need your help with something."
"Oh?"
"The breeder had another puppy and, given how your brother has been, I had thought-"
"Oh, now that I am going to enjoy."
Oscar Vanderbilt was purely, utterly, furious. His father was too tied up in dealing with Alfred's family and making arrangements for them to flee the city and the press, his mother was making the rounds so that Alfred's widow could hide, and his sister was far too absorbed in her marriage to assist him. Which meant that he was currently trying to convince his family's butler to acquiesce to his plan all by his lonesome. He let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I need to go over there."
"Sir, you know your father has placed a moratorium on your finances after you attempted to purchase tickets a day after the news came in about the Lusitania." The butler, Mr. Ballard, flipped his newspaper. "You're not going to convince me to give you money, because that will get me fired and I happen to like my job."
"You're not listening to me," Oscar tried to explain, again. "Father won't even know the money is missing, I'll replace it from my own account before he notices."
"You know he's told the bank you're not allowed to withdraw from your accounts until he changes his mind."
"I can write a letter for them to release the funds to you, I just need you to get me into Father's office and give me the key to his safe."
Mr. Ballard sighed, "Mr. Vanderbilt, Oscar, everyone in the house knows what you intend to do. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in New York knew. The instant you appear at the American Line you're going to be hounded by press and chased back home."
"I'll go disguised!"
"Oscar," Mr. Ballard set his paper down. "Your father has arranged for you to be followed and forcibly returned home if you even get close to the ocean. Now, just be a good boy and stay home for right now. Once some time has passed, your father will likely allow you to go. You just need to wait."
Oscar threw his chair back, standing. "I can't wait! The longer I take to get there, the more she's going to suffer." He tore out of the butler's office, running his hands harshly through his hair. The relief he had felt at hearing Anastasia had been safe had been a wonderful, blissful moment, but it had not lasted long. Even while they had been giving Alfred's children and widow their sympathy, he'd been worrying about her.
Life in Britain was not easy at the moment, although her money could alleviate that some. But still, if Anastasia was there then she would be exposed to all the horrors of war. She could be bombed by zeppelins, the Germans could shell Southampton like they had Scarborough, even just a trip to the train station could force her to see men suffering from gas attacks being moved to hospitals.
He had to get her home, back to New York where she could be safe and recover from her ordeal in peace and safety.
Oscar didn't really need much to do it. All he needed was money for a ticket, he'd take an American ship over. It would be slower, but the Germans were backpedaling politically from the Lusitania and had promised that any American flagged ship would not be targeted, regardless of what they might carry. He could take a cab to her offices in Southampton, get the address of Will's house, and convince her to come home with him.
She needed to be surrounded by people who loved her, by a staff to care for her, and she did not have that there. He had never seen Will's house, but he knew it was small, with no staff of its own, and Anastasia was so devoted she was unlikely to leave it even if a better option was offered. He groaned, thinking of how sentimental she could be. She was a wonderful woman, but her loyalty, in this case, was the worst thing at the moment.
But he could do it, he could turn her to the idea of coming home.
Will would come home soon enough, and he was even safer now that he was a battlecruiser captain. Those didn't go out on patrols, more than likely Will would ride out the war in port as the Admiralty was too frightened of the U-boats to risk them. He could come home to a happy, healthy Anastasia.
Oscar had sat down in the parlor, his eyes shut tightly as he thought over his plans. Which meant that he nearly shot out of his chair when something warm, furry and wriggling like a fish was dumped into his lap. It was only luck that he caught his balance and managed to not drop the puppy that had been bestowed on him. When he whirled around, he found himself confronted by his sister and her husband, the both of them howling with laughter.
Liz was quite literally wiping tears from her eyes, "Oh, you should see yourself, Oscar."
"What the hell is this?" Oscar held the puppy out, confronted with a tawny body, pointed ears, and a long nose. He cocked his head, "A German Shepard?"
"Yes," James was still chortling, "I didn't know if you had a preference."
Oscar pulled the puppy closer, letting it nibble on his fingers with its dagger like teeth. "Why are you giving me a puppy?"
"Because you're so wound up you didn't even hear us come in." Liz stood up, revealing herself to be holding a leash. Oscar raised his eyebrows as he noticed the little white puppy sat by her feet. She followed his gaze, shrugging. "James felt I've been doing the same."
Oscar pursed his lips, looking to James. "You can't just buy us dogs when you think we're too worried."
He snorted, "Believe me, it's just for now. You two both need to stop obsessing over things. Liz already named hers, you know."
Oscar held the puppy out in front of him again, making the thing wriggle around as it searched for some support. That tawny hair was a bit lighter than others he had seen, like it had been dusted with sugar. Well, that was good enough as anything. "Dusty, something simple."
"Liz named hers Athena."
"Of course, she did." Oscar chuckled. "I'm surprised she didn't name it Morgan Le Fey or something like that."
Liz stuck out her tongue, leaning down to pet her puppy. "Don't listen to him dear, he's jealous." She straightened, cocking her head. "You've been obsessing over fetching Anastasia back."
"No, I haven't!"
"Father called me."
Oscar set the puppy down, who immediately turned on her back. "Damn." He sat back down, rubbing his temples. "It would be better for her to be home."
"She is an adult, Oscar." James cautioned, sitting down and putting an arm around Liz when she joined him. "She is fully capable of coming home if she wants to."
Liz looked at him with something far too close to pity in her eyes. "Oscar, please, just wait. I'm sure she'll write soon. She said she would."
He sighed, letting the puppy attack his shoes without even a minor protest. He knew Anastasia would write, but he wished it would come sooner. He wanted to read her words, know her thoughts, and get some form of solace for his mind. Dusty pawed at his legs, and he let a small smile break out.
Perhaps James was right, maybe he did need a distraction.
Sophie was bone tired of being locked inside the house. According to Zachary, there was no reason she should be though, for the house had everything she needed. A staff to wait on her, the finest food and drink, a yard to run Freddy in and take the sun. The library was stocked with the newest releases and her maids went shopping each week and brought the newest styles for her wardrobe.
But she still felt strangled.
No matter how big the windows were, they were still locked. The yard was walled in, and Freddy had to kept on a close leash to not dig up the exotic flowers. She couldn't visit the kitchen to help prepare the food, although Adam was fully weaned now so she could enjoy the wine that was provided. She could spend hours playing with Adam, but even that grew dull after days on end.
She wanted to get out of the house, she wanted to walk the streets of the city, peruse the stores, and visit her friends. More than anything, she wanted to see Morris. But it seemed as if there was no way out. Rebecca could bring her news of the outside that wasn't in the papers, but she couldn't smuggle Sophie out with her. None of the other staff she trusted to not report to Zachary.
Which meant Sophie had to do something distasteful, be affectionate to her husband.
She donned a fine green silk dress that set off her pale skin, dabbed perfume on herself, and wore delicate chains of diamonds around her wrists and neck. Her lady's maid teased her hair up, pinned it with diamond pins, and helped her into heeled shoes that she hadn't worn in ages. They pinched a bit and made her feet hurt, but she hid that behind a smile as she walked to her husband's office.
Sophie knocked lightly, then cracked the door open. "Zachary, are you in here?"
There was a shuffle of papers, "Yes."
"May I come in?"
"I suppose." He grumbled, and Sophie slipped in before closing the door behind her. Zachary kept his office dark, the curtains pulled against the spring sunlight and the lamps heavily shaded. It was dark enough that Zachary couldn't see her raised eyebrow as she wondered to herself if he was hungover. If he was, that would certainly make her plan more difficult. Zachary was behind his massive desk, rubbing his temples. "What is it, Sophie?"
She breezed over, sitting on the edge of his desk and letting her skirt cover his papers. "I wanted to see you." She let her fingers trace over his hand. "You've been so busy lately."
He turned his hand over, capturing her fingers. "Well, you've been out of sorts. I didn't want to bother you."
Sophie smiled, leaning down so he could see it in the dim lamplight. "I feel much better now, darling."
"I'm glad." He muttered, settling back in his chair. Sophie did have to admit, he was handsome. Even disheveled, his black hair was thick and lustrous and his green eyes flashed in the light. She ignored that they were mostly focused on the neckline of her dress, focusing on how best to position herself for his appraisal. He grinned, "It's been quite some time."
"Too long." Sophie tossed her head, making her diamond earrings flash in the light. "I'm hoping I might be able to join you for dinner tonight?"
"I was planning to go out."
"I could come along, if you like." She looked down at her dress, pouting. "Of course, I would find something better to wear than this old thing."
His hand moved to her waist, his fingers running up and down. "We could go to the theater after, too."
"And have drinks when we get home." She batted her eyes, "Perhaps I could join you for one in your rooms?"
"I suppose." He chuckled, standing. "You know, I could have the car called up and you could go shopping for tonight."
She ducked her head, "Oh, I wouldn't want to make any trouble."
"It's not trouble for me to want my wife to be pretty." He tilted her chin back, and Sophie did he best to make her eyes wide and delicate. Her lips parted slightly, and Zachary kissed her with a groan. When he was kissing her though, she could close her eyes and fall away. That tousled black hair became plain brown, and green eyes turned to hazel. It made it much easier to tolerate him sweeping his tongue in her mouth, and she managed to not pull away at the taste of stale alcohol on his breath. Zachary was breathing slightly heavy as he pulled away, "Have the stores send the bill to me."
She ran her hand up his arm, "Of course, my dear."
"If you're still feeling well tomorrow, we could make a few calls."
Sophie expected nothing less, him forcing her to trade time with him for her freedom. But she forced herself to smile, to thank him and kiss him, and to flit out of the door like a carefree girl. She left Adam with a kiss, collected her lady's maid, and set out in the car. It would take time to get Zachary to allow her out more often, every minute of it would be distasteful, but once she was out, she could begin planning her way towards her true goal.
Finding Morris.
Ruth set aside her book and sighed, fighting the urge to pull on her hair for just the slightest bit of control in her life. At least then she would be the one causing pain to herself, and she could stop it whenever she wanted. Unlike everything else in her life at the moment. Her daughter, the war, the people around her, even the business, was out of her complete control.
She couldn't even control the lights around her, which were flickering in a deliberate pattern.
Ruth stood, went to her dressing room and dismissed her maids for the night, and came back to her sitting room. "You can come out now, they're gone."
Watching Gareth appear was always disconcerting, like staring at a mirror in a pool of water, images shifting and wavering until he finally settled into view. His face was grim, "We need to talk."
Ruth wished so dearly she could touch his cheek, "We always talk when you visit."
"We need to talk about that daughter of ours." Gareth looked as if he would have thrown himself into a chair if he could. "She is not staying over there."
"She says that she is." Ruth went to a table, pulling out a piece of paper and setting it where Gareth could read it. "This arrived today, she apologizes for not listening to us but refuses to consider coming home." A letter for Oscar had been included, and Ruth planned to call the next day to deliver it.
His eyes traced Anastasia's handwriting, and Ruth felt a giggle building up as he flushed with anger. "She damn well will come home! I'm her father and it doesn't matter if her husband has ordered her to stay." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Oscar and a dozen Pinkertons would see her home quick enough."
Ruth let her hands hover over his shoulders, the most she could touch him outside of her dreams. "My dear, she is an adult."
"She's my daughter." Gareth brought his hand up to cover hers, the rush of cool air the only feeling from him. "And yours too. Don't you want her to be here, where she's safe?"
"Of course I do, you know that." Ruth moved to sit in the chair next to him. "But she does have a point, she will be happier where she can see William every now and then. You remember what she was like while he was gone. I don't want to see her like that again."
"Neither do I." Gareth let his head drop into his hands. "Honestly, this is all William's fault." His voice was merely a mumble. "I told him to take care of the both of you, and he goes and does this."
Ruth pursed her lips, "He didn't decide this lightly, you know."
"But he had a way out."
"And everyone would have known him as a coward, and Anastasia would have been shamed for it." Ruth looked away. "Can you honestly say you don't understand his reasoning?"
Gareth let out a great breath, "I do, as much as I don't like it."
"I may have done the same." Ruth leaned back in her chair, chuckling. "If you had left me for that long when we were first married, I would have chased after you too."
"I think you did, once or twice." Gareth looked over, mischief in his eyes. "Although I wasn't gone for that long."
"No, but it didn't stop me from missing you. I still do." Ruth brought her hand up to her face, brushing away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Having Gareth visit was wonderful and she wouldn't trade it for the world, but she missed having him actually by her side. She wanted to be able to throw herself in his arms and cry out her worries, to feel him hold her at night, to just have him brush his hand over her cheek.
But he couldn't touch her, outside of her dreams and that was never real.
Her chair suddenly grew chilly, and when she looked up, she saw that Gareth had passed through the chair to wrap his arms around her as best he could. He was practically resting his forehead on hers, his voice soft. "I never wanted to leave you, Ruth. I love you, and I always will." His hand brushed over her cheek, cold. "But I couldn't face a world where I forgot how much I love you, and our daughter. Sometimes I wish you would call me a coward and hate me, at least then I wouldn't have caused you such pain."
Ruth covered his hand with hers. "I could never hate you, Gareth. Not in a thousand years."
"I suppose I must accept Anastasia not coming back until the war is done, won't I?"
"If what she feels for William is even half of what I feel for you, you couldn't tear her away from him for anything."
He chuckled, the cold growing around her as if he was clutching her tighter. "I could visit, you know. Just to make sure that she isn't suffering too much."
"When you do, give her my love. And tell her that I am going to strangle her when I see her again."