Chapter Text
Death, Ebony had known before. When it had come to claim her mother when she was too young to understand what was happening. Now it came again for her father and this time, Ebony felt she understood death a little better. She sat at her dressing table in a black gown, fingerless black gloves adorned her hands and her mother’s choker wrapped around her pale throat. As she stared back in her reflection though, she thought she was looking at a ghost of herself. The real her didn’t have dark rims beneath her eyes or red veins exposed from extensive crying. The real Ebony was a relatively happy seventeen-year-old.
As a knock came on her bedroom door though, Ebony knew that she might not be seeing her real self for some time.
-----
The walk to the cemetery was a long one, following after the hearse that carried their father’s coffin. Ebony walked slowly beside Nicholas, knowing that if she faltered for a moment, he would catch her. He had done since they were children playing soldiers. As she took in his new uniform though, she smiled sadly at the thought that he would no longer be playing at soldiers anymore. Nicholas had got his confirmation letter a month before their father had died, and his date for him to go to the barracks had only been moved because of the funeral. Ebony didn’t want to think about what would happen after the funeral. She had been dreading the day already, without having to think about what happened afterwards. She just knew she wouldn’t like what it was either way.
They stopped beside the Carnahan plot and Nicholas held her hand tightly as the undertakers carried the coffin out to the open grave beside their mother’s. Ebony watched in silence as the mourners stood around the grave and the vicar began reading from the bible in his pocket. It seemed strange to Ebony that her father had been reduced to a box, a pine box beside their mother with a headstone freshly laid out for him especially. Nicholas seemed unmoved by the whole thing, or maybe he had just become better at hiding his emotions since boarding school. She glanced up at him, noting the way he stared straight ahead as if he dared look down, he’d crumble.
Her gaze flickered to a mausoleum in the distance were a young boy dressed in black was watching them. She frowned. He was pale, almost as pale as her father had been before the undertakers took him away. She glanced up at Nicholas to see if he’d noticed him, but when she looked back, the boy had vanished. Ebony froze. ‘Did I imagine that?’ she thought as she quickly looked down at the coffin in the ground. ‘Why would anyone watch a funeral?’
-----
Wakes were horrible things, Ebony found. Things that meant you had to hire caterers to feed people you didn’t really know all that well who offered condolences every five minutes, and the room stunk of lilies and perfume. Ebony found it best to sit on the loveseat beside the window, waiting for someone to come over with a slice of the cake they’d bought.
“I thought I’d find you here,” a familiar voice sighed.
Ebony looked up and smiled gratefully at the sight of Louise. Louise was, as far as Ebony was concerned, the sister she had never had. With strawberry-blonde locks that fell down in gorgeous curls and big brown eyes that boys could get lost in, or so several poetry-enthused boys had said. She was the kind of girl who dragged Ebony to parties she’d rather not go to and was too kind-hearted for her own good, if a little demanding at times. Ebony also thought it strange that Louise thought Nicholas was handsome, when to her he would always be the mud-covered boy who went to hunt for snails in the garden and locked his room at random times of the day.
Louise sat beside her with a huff, “I suppose it’s ridiculous to ask how you’re doing.”
“It would be, but I appreciate it anyway.”
“You know, I heard you’re being shipped off somewhere now. Some distant relative of your father’s.”
Ebony snorted, “News to me.”
Louise looked down at her hands, “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know. I don’t either, but it’s looking like I’ll have to. Mama and Papa didn’t really have much family between them. With Nico off to basic training, I’m very much alone right now.”
Placing a hand over hers, Louise pouted, “Couldn’t you come live with me instead?”
“You have three younger sisters and two brothers in your house. I think your parents have suffered enough.”
“Oh, alright! “Where do you think then? I think you’ll end up in Paris or somewhere really glamourous and go to lots of parties, and have lots of fun without me.”
Ebony chuckled, “As if I could possibly have fun without you. Besides, it’ll probably be some cottage in Dorset or something. I’ll be lucky if I don’t have to milk anything.”
Louise laughed softly and placed her forehead against Ebony’s. “Write to me, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
-----
Nicholas found Ebony sitting on the staircase after the last guest had left. Her head was in her hands and she was staring at the wear in the carpet. “Do you really have to leave?” she asked softly.
“We’ve talked about this,” he sighed. “It’s a good opportunity for me. With an army pension, I can at least make sure we can have a comfortable life.”
Ebony scowled, “What about Mama and Papa’s money?”
“That will remain in trust until we marry or turn twenty-five. Whichever comes first.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s just how things are done.” He sat on the step beneath her feet. “I can visit, you know? It’s not like you’ll never see me again.”
“Feels like it.”
“I know,” he sighed. “But I need to do this, for me. Stay here, and I’d never see anything outside of London. This way, we can both see the world a little before we decide to settle down.”
Ebony glanced up at him. “What do you mean? Where am I going?” Nicholas avoided her gaze. “Nico?”
“According to Father’s will, you are to be sent to live with a guardian in Romania.”
“Romania?! But-but Papa never mentioned Romania in his life.”
Nicholas undid the collar of his uniform and sniffed, “Well, he did to me. Consider yourself lucky, he’s a count apparently. Father knew him when he was younger. Owed him a great deal, so he thought he’d be the best person to look after you.”
“Who he decidedly never mentioned to me once?” she scowled.
Nicholas glanced at her and a sly grin appeared on his lips, “You could always go to our third cousin in Cornwall. They’re pig farmers, apparently.”
“As if that’s really much of a choice!” she huffed. “Who is he anyway?”
“His name’s Count Dracula.”