Chapter Text
Victor caught her easily enough before her head could hit the floor, carrying her to a chaise lounge and carefully laying her out while Nella fretted.
"You've shocked her! She's very delicate, you know! What have you done to my poor girl's nerves?" Cried Nella.
"She's made of sterner stuff than you realize," said Victor, tempering his voice with a clinical tone. "See, even now she opens her eyes…"
Grace came to, glancing up at both of them. Victor clasped her hand in his, kneeling before her. "Dearest lady," he murmured, "have I upset you?"
Nella dabbed at Grace's forehead with a handkerchief, and Victor longed to send the woman away. Yet he held his tongue, determined to be a proper gentleman.
"Did… did you really propose to me?" Grace asked weakly.
"I'm afraid so," he said, giving her a lopsided smile. "If you will have me, my dear, I would be honored to call you my wife." He presented her with the ring once more. "'Tis no diamond, though I'm sure that one who mines garnets fares no better than the laborer who works under the lash of the Boer—"
"Oh, Victor!" Grace pressed his hand against her cheek, tears springing from her eyes. "Say no more. There is no other man in this world that I'd marry!"
Her touch was almost enough to make him forget himself. He longed to pick her up in his arms, to simply hold her and enjoy the warmth of her body against his. It was an innocent enough desire, one that, for once, wasn't tainted by his all-consuming lust for her. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly.
"Grace, my dear, it would seem that the weather has cleared…" he glanced over his shoulder at the window, through which they could see that the clouds had thinned and that people were out and about on the streets. "Would you care for a walk with me?"
"Alone?" Nella asked, eyebrows raising.
"A walk sounds lovely," Grace said, rising from the chaise lounge. "We shan't be long, Nella. You needn't worry about us." She smiled at her old governess before retrieving her coat from the closet.
Nella gave Victor a suspicious glare, and he innocently smiled and spread his hands. "We'll be in the park and, should she desire, the bookstore. Nothing more, I swear upon my life," he said.
He walked hand in hand with his beloved, with his Grace Ashcroft, as they strolled down the street. With her ring upon her finger, binding her to him, no one took much notice. He walked with her to the park down the street, while she blushed so sweetly for him. They stopped to sit in front of a large fountain, and he kissed her fingers before finally letting go.
"Soon, we may do as we please," he said, dropping his voice to a low murmur. "No more hiding in the woods, no more clandestine meetings…" He noticed the way that she turned her head, staring down at her lap. "Dearest Grace, I will stop at nothing to make you the happiest woman who ever lived, yet I perceive in you an untouchable sorrow. What may I do to alleviate it?"
At length, she murmured, "I'm sorry, Victor. My melancholy spirit does not suit the occasion. I only wish for my mother to be alive, that she could see me wed, that I could know she's alright… In the absence of such a miracle, I would see her soul at peace. Yet I've lost contact with her." She glanced up at him, blinking away tears. "I see her only in the most horrid nightmares, in the vivid memories of what took place in that wretched hotel. She has fled from me."
He produced a handkerchief and wiped away her tears. "My love, what do you make of this? Do you suppose that she finally passed on?"
Grace shook her head. "No, I would have known. I wouldn't feel this great pit within my heart. Oh Victor, I…" she sighed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry…"
"Why ever should you be?" He took her hand once more. "As your husband-to-be, I must be a source of comfort and strength to you. This is not your burden to bear alone."
She clasped his hand tightly and pleaded, "will you help me to find my mother's killer?"
He pressed his free hand to his heart, fixing her with a grave look. "I shall do everything in my power to find her killer and, if he yet lives, I shall send him straight to the depths of Hell myself."
Victor longed to draw her into his arms, to let her cry against his chest. The presence of other townsfolk prevented him, much to his disdain. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, to make her forget the whole inconvenient mess about her mother's death, but God only knew what the others would say. There were appearances to keep up, as always, and he despised the whole damned world for it.
"My love," he whispered, "will you meet me in the forest at midnight?" He saw the hesitance in her eyes, and he smiled. "I only wish to hold you and to speak freely with you, nothing more. Indeed, until the night of our wedding, you will have no more mischief from me unless you so desire."
He had little intention of keeping the latter promise, but the relief in her features did not go unnoticed by him. If Victor had his way, he'd rid her of that shyness, that cloak of modesty which kept her desires hidden, soon enough. Even now, she leaned toward him, staring up at him as if in a trance, and it was upon him to break the spell. He cleared his throat and rose from his seat, offering her his arm.
"Let us go, my dear. A new shipment of books has arrived from the East Coast today, and I will buy whatever pleases you."
She came away with two books: The Monk by Matthew Lewis, and a book on divination, both of which, should her governess know the contents, she would most assuredly try to abscond with them. It gave him a not-quite-secret satisfaction to fuel her more sordid interests, to feed Grace a steady diet of novels and unsavory literature.
"In my home, you shall have your own library, my dear," he said as they walked closely together against the chilling wind of the autumn eve. "Whatever you desire, it shall be yours."
"And where shall we travel for our honeymoon?" Grace asked. "Oh, I do hope that it's someplace gorgeous…"
"We will travel across Europe to ancient Transylvania, beloved, to see the ancient ruins of a village once occupied by a cult." Grace's eyes widened, as if in recognition, and he raised his eyebrows. "Oh… have I said something alarming?"
She shook her head, huddling closer to Victor. "No, it's just that… could it be…? We were only just discussing a Transylvanian cult at dinner yesterday."
"With your friend, Mr Kennedy? Has he any firsthand knowledge of their dark deeds?"
She shook her head again, idly stroking his arm as she held onto it. "No, 'twas a friend of his who ventured into the mountains to retrieve a family in peril. I know little more, except that there was a man who defied death in the most peculiar manner…"
"Did he, indeed? Pray, tell me more."
She gave him an uncharacteristically coquettish smile, and his heart fluttered in his chest. “Perhaps I shall tonight, once we meet in the forest. I’ll be sure to dress according to the weather…”