Five days later
Elle stared out the window, her face a picture like a forlorn puppy as she watched the rolling clouds, fat raindrops and angry looking sky. She had spent fifteen years living on the streets, with leaking roofs and the occasional flooding of her sleeping mat in a particularly heavy downpour. The very first time it had rained, just the evening after Fabian had brought her back from Madame Moreau's, she had been thoroughly grateful at least that she could remain comfortable and warm as the rain poured outside. Guilt had nibbled at her at the idea that Lacey was possibly out in the cold alone, but she couldn't help but enjoy the warmth from the hearth, the genial conversation she shared with Fabian over a dinner of roasted partridge and vegetables.
He had been curious on what she did. Elle usually was not very forward, but something about Fabian made her open up easily, and soon she found herself telling him regarding the way in which Lacey had taught her how to cut her hair, walk like a boy, and act tougher then she did. "Lacey burned the dress she found me in. It was in pastel purple, with frills apparently. Too eye-catching. She got me breeches and shirts the next day, and I've lived in them since." Elle had told him. She briefly caught his contemplative look, only for it to disappear quickly in the next second. Fabian, she was beginning to realize, was very good at making it seem like nothing too serious was going on.
Not wanting to be the only one telling of everything, she had asked too, pleasantly surprised when he did tell her of his family. He had been very obviously morose when he spoke of his father, the previous Duke of Avondale, but lightened up as the conversation turned to his two sisters (annoying pests according to him, but spoken in such a fond tone that Elle found it difficult to believe he didn't love them) who were currently under his care. The way Fabian's brow scrunched up when he spoke of Pippa's latest suitor had Elle laughing, overprotective as he was. It was obvious that he didn't fancy Charlotte's own Season in the next few months, but did not question.
His mother was a quiet lady who didn't mingle in the season much. According to Fabian, Charlotte and Pippa would be accompanied by an old aunt of his, Aunt Florence. "She doesn't... fit in Society, technically." he had given as way of explanation, when Elle asked. The brunette cocked her head, confusion clear in her golden eyes.
"Mama was a tavern girl that Father met on one of his... er, travels. He had fallen in love with her, and defied tradition to marry her, making her one of the most unconventional Duchesses in the history of the ton. Not many welcomed her, and Mama's gentle nature did not bode well if she were to enter society. So Father fixed her up in our country estate in Kensington, where she stays most of the time."
In a way, Elle understood, but over the course of the next few days as the rain did not let up, she found herself feeling more and more trapped. The watery puddles and horrendous weather did not allow for anything outdoors, and soon she found herself often wandering the hallways of the surprisingly large town house. Portraits were looked at in fascination, visiting the library to look at neatly arranged, leather bound books. She had picked a few to read, but other then recognizing a few words here and there, reading was a lofty thing to call her browsing through the pages.
But what was unnerving to Elle the most was how she found herself mightily curious as she brushed fingers upon soft carpet, well wrought oaken furniture, porcelain antiques on display. Even the few times Fabian had asked her to share a meal with him in his study between his studying of the ledgers and running of the Avalon estates and investments, her curiosity mounted.
Something about the dark oaken woods were familiar, and she found herself all too at ease as she slipped into mingling with his servants, even managing to smile her way to a few freshly baked scones before tea time.
And today, as the door knocked on her room and the lady's maid assigned to her traipsed in with the three new day dresses that Fabian had ordered to be made a few days earlier, it was even more unnerving as she found herself completely at home slipping into the soft cotton of the emerald green day dress. With a flounced sleeve that accentuated the curve of her neck, the deep green was trimmed with gold edges around the ends. Her feet slipped perfectly into the earthy toned slipper that Madame Moreau had ordered as a gift for the Duke's companion, and as she stared into the mirror, Elle couldn't help but gape.
Who was this lady that she saw in the mirror? And why did her chest hurt as she noticed how different she looked from the mousy Elliot she played on a day to day basis in the East End?
Not even noticing the knock on her door, Elle only turned when she saw the maid bow respectfully, watching as Fabian strode in and paused mid-stride, taking in the difference in the woman. While her hair was still short, the lady's maid had curled it up, the volume it added bringing out the sharpness of her cheeks, the flush in them. The green on her shone, making her brown eyes seem almost the color of sunrise, and Fabian had to remind himself to speak. "You look... amazing, Miss Elle."
"Th-thank you, Lord... Fabian?" she tried, and laughed when Fabian gave a rueful smile. "Your Grace. But I guess you can call me Fabian when we're alone."
"Fabian. I... you really didn't have to get me dresses. I'm going to return home to the East End once my help is done, innit?"
"Well..." he trailed off. Truthfully, Fabian wasn't too sure if he wanted to allow Elle to return to the East End. Something about the past five days he's spent with her in residence had made him even more curious regarding who she is. While he didn't have much clues and merely his instinct to go on, Fabian had done a few enquiries of his own despite the wet weather over the past few days. Calling in a few favors, he now awaited news from a few footpads. But unwilling to share the fact that he was possibly breaching her privacy, he instead tried a different tack, pasting a smile on his face. "While we use your help, you probably don't want to appear as Elliot, and walking around there with your pants and shirts would be too obvious. Besides, I only commissioned three for you. That'd last my sisters all of one day before they declare tis too little for them."
Elle laughed, conceding his point with a nod, as her eyes returned to study herself in the mirror. Moving to stand by her, Fabian noted to himself how easily she got used to the lady's garbs of skirts and corsets, another tidbit for him to use as fodder for his investigation. "I came here to ask you if you'd like to come on a ride with me? The rain seems to be letting up."
Upon his announcement, Elle looked out of her window, realizing she had been so absorbed in getting dress that she had not realized the clearing of the rain. The smile that broke across her face when she noticed the light drizzle the rain had been reduced to was dazzling, a sight that Fabian found hard to tear his eyes away from.
"Are you riding anywhere in particular?"
The question grounded him back, and he managed to cover up his momentary loss of reality by pasting a smooth smile as he retorted, "Do I need a reason to be riding somewhere?"
A little caught off guard by his response, Elle blinked at him in surprise. In East End, everything was done for a reason or excuse. There was no time to waste, no energy to be unspent, and no extra days to lose. It was an everyday fight for survival that Elle was so used to. The fact that he suggested jaunt for fun was something that she couldn't seem to comprehend, a fact that she's guessing looked quite obvious the way Fabian raised a brow at her, and then looked out at the sunset decorated with the dredges of the falling raindrops.
"Well, it's Sunday, which means the tenants usually gather in the middle of our square to trade stories and advises for the weak, etcetra. I join them when I can, so I can catch up with them and see if they are well. I was just wondering if you'd like to join me tonight."
Ah, that made more sense to her. Elle was blessed with an inability to sit still, and within half an hour, she was being helped on the single-horse carriage Fabian had set up, with him at the reins. She blinked at him in surprise, as she got in. "Don't you dandies usually have a driver or summat?"
His eyes flashed again, scowling as he flicked his wrist, setting their calico into motion. "I can drive this myself."
"You... don't like me calling you a dandy?"
Fabian found himself surprised that Elle could be astute enough to guess the reason for the shift in his mood, but acquiesced by giving a curt nod. "I'm sorry for that then. Although I have to confess, it is because of what Lacey has been telling me all this while."
"And where does she get these stories?"
"Lacey works in a house, under Mrs. Kennard. She's one of the welcomed girls there, so she has her fair share of... patrons." As her tone tapered off towards the end, Fabian finally understood the reason why she rarely spoke of her best friend, and blinked in surprise. So that was how she had been forming her opinions of society? No wonder she looked like a scared mouse, and a defensive tiger half the time!
"I assure you, whoever your Lacey... serves, does not mean everyone of us acts the same. A little unfair to judge us all based upon one person's stories, does it not?"
"I wouldn't know. Lacey only tells me of the stories. I rarely venture out of East End. The day we... er, you... well, that was my first time."
The rumble of the carriage wheels beneath them rocked gently in the evening breeze, the last dredges of sun warming up with its orange rays when Elle spoke up again. "Where would your tenants be, Fabian? Since you're staying in the townhouse. I would've thought most of your tenants would be in the countryside."
"How do you know that?" He couldn't help the curious question. Turning to look at her in between steering, Fabian suddenly realized the perplexed look upon Elle's face. Scrunched up forehead, with a faraway look and a confused looking face, the silence that followed his question seemed obvious that Elle was taken aback by her knowledge of that. Deciding to save the situation, the young Duke continued as if nothing had occured.
"Papa was one of the few affluent people who believed woman can run a business as well as men. Technically, a woman's signature is not allowed on deeds and properties, so he has a few shops he owns around town which are run by women. Madame Moreau's was one, which is why I can assure you she will tell no one of who you are with. Can't have your reputation in tatters." he winked, grinning at her with a smirk that made Elle laugh, her earlier confusion forgotten. "I have no reputation to start with, Fabian, what could you possibly spoil?"
He smiled, finding himself liking the way her laughter wrinkled the sides of her eyes, with a natural flush in her cheeks. The town was fairly sparse, as the Season was not in full swing yet. A few people here and there waved at him, but most of the gossip mongers were away, which Fabian was immensely grateful for as he turned a corner to one of the shops owned by the Duke of Avondale.
Eventually pulling the calico to a stop, Fabian turned to help Elle off the carriage, explaining as he went along. "Rue des Chapeux"
"What?" Elle muttered, blinking to take in the printed golden words upon the black shop. Fabian smiled, waving an arm at the window display. "Hats, my dear. You're going to need one to hide your face when we go in to the East End."
"And I'm assuming this is also conveniently one of your tenants?" Elle questioned with a raise of her brow in show of amusement. He chuckled, nodding. "Smart girl. Shall we?"
Entering the shop with a ringing bell, a portly lady with an extravagant looking straw hat adorned with feathers and chiffon crafted flowers squealed when her eyes fell on Fabian, almost knocking Elle over in her effort to give him a welcoming hug.
"Madame Delacroix, you're always a pleasure to see."
"Oui oui, monsieur. And who is zis beau jeune femme we has here?" Her eyes sparkled a mesmerizing blue gaze on Elle, who shifted uncomfortably on her feet.
"This is Miss Elle. I'd appreciate it if you don't tell anyone who she is, nor mention she is with me. Now, we're going to need a wide-brimmed hat which would serve good to cover her face."
"But pourqoui, monsieur Rothesby? She is beautiful!"
"She is." Elle's breathe caught in her throat, the way Fabian directed his gaze at her when he agreed. It was a briefest of seconds, in which Elle could swear his tone dropped an octave or two to become a husky timbre, with eyes full of meaning looking at her. But it was a second she lost quickly, for in the next Fabian was addressing the easily excitable milliner again. "But I'd rather she stay hidden, for I have a dangerous mission to do. You think you can get it to us in the next day, Madame?'
"Anything for you, mon garcon. But why the hurry?"
"Tis a matter of urgency. Merci, Madame."
It was one of the quickest visits Elle had ever experienced, and she was back in the carriage in no time, as they rumbled off the road towards the townhouse Fabian owned again. "Won't I look horribly conspicious wearing a bonnet in East End though? Gad knows, no one wears that there."
"All the more good reason you can pretend you lost your way when you're there."
"That wouldn't explain your presence, nor Mister Lionel's presence there."
"Mister Chadwick," Fabian corrected, mild irritation flaring up at how Lionel's name seem to flow off her tongue like it was natural, "And we'll be your escorts, guards of sorts so no one could question us. We wouldn't know better then to just follow you aft-"
Before Fabian got a chance to finish his sentence, a sudden glow and a smell of smoke made him instinctively pull at the reins, turning in the direction of the growing crescendo of screams. What he saw made him gape, before Fabian quickly pulled at his horse, heading straight for the billowing cloud of smoke behind a row of shops.