Realistic or Modern Victorian London

[Syrrus]

Being back at the great house - or more likely, messy apartment - his sister had said her goodbyes, kissed his cheek and said that she would return in the morning, so would he be so kind and get some sleep and be ready by nine. Sighing, the young man dragged his feet past the landlady, who greeted him with a friendly smile and a bow of the head.


"But, Lord Edwards, where is your hat?" She asked, gasping; as if he had come home without a limb.


"Don't worry yourself, Mrs. Mitchell." He gave the old lady a kind smile and closed the door to his home behind him.


Edwards' apartment where not large, though; no one truly had large home in the middle of London. It was a messy place, clean to the core but messy. Books were placed in towers all over the woodenfloors, a carpet lay before a great fireplace and two high backed chairs, as well as a red sofa. Sinking into his favorite seat the man sighed heavily, and proceeded by picking up his violin from the floor, kissing the beautiful redish-wood before playing on it.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret briskly walked through the streets, keeping her bare head tucked low. A few drunken men automatically assumed that she was a prostitute--she was a young lady obviously of non-English descent who was walking the streets at night, why wouldn't she be?--but she brushed past them before any trouble could arise.


"I have...a young man's hat," she told the landlady of his apartment building in a clear voice when she realized she had never learned his name. "He left it at the restaurant he was eating at."


She had no idea if the gentleman was open about his hankering for a drink, so she avoided bringing him any unnecessary embarassment.

 

[Syrrus]

"Oh, come right in love; he's in his room - you can hear him clearly. Poor man had a difficult night I assume." The lady continued to speak as she guided the young female upstairs, where she knocked upon the door. "Lord Edwards, I have a guest for yo--" The beautiful music turned into a sound of screeching songs, loud like thunder. Edward placed the violin down with a 'clonk' and the door opened shortly after that. "I don't expect any-- Oh, it's the young lady."


"I'll bring up some tea." Mrs. Mitchell said, smiling from ear to ear as she turned and hurried back down the stairs. Victor blinked in confusion, scratched the back of his head and gestured towards the chairs. "Do come in, ma'am."


Victor had, upon getting back home, removed his jacket and vest, he was now wearing his white shirt, two buttons undone, showing some pale skin. "I didn't expect you here so soon, so eager to get your hands on that book-- Is that my hat?"

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret dutifully followed the landlady, taking in the furnishings of the apartment building. It dumbfounded her that some people could have so much space and absolutely no one to share it with.


She was more than slightly confused by the landlady's enthusiasm toward her business; however, her attention was immediately drawn to the violin in his hand, his more casual appearance. "Yes. You forgot it at the bar, Sir," she replied in a mild voice, offering the hat for his taking. "I, uh, took the liberties of coming to return it to you since you gave me your address; I truly hope that I am not imposing on anything."

 

[Syrrus]

"That's very kind of you, ma'am." He continued, mumbling and closed the door behind her. "Do take a seat." He looked around the towers of books, waddling through papers until he managed to find what he was looking for, upon the desk in the corner. Taking the small square book of the top he turned back around. "Here's the book. You may keep it - as a gift - for you kindness."


The young man walked forward and gently, with a slight tremble, handed the young lady the book, while leaning his violin against the high backed chair. "I hope it'll be to your liking, just as it were to mine."

 

[GreyZone]

A slight blush rose to Margaret's cheeks as he handed her the book. "I don't know if you forgot, Sir, but I am unable to read well at all, let alone something of this level..." Nonetheless, she ran her fingers of the cover of the beautiful volume. "It was not really my choice whether or not I could work on pertaining that particular skill. I am sure you know how matters are."


Margaret was a smart girl, but she had never been one of those headstrong ones who demanded education and fair treatment to men. Mostly because she didn't have the time or energy on hacking away at problems that were out beyond out of her control. She was looking to marry someone that her father wouldn't be disappointed in, someone who didn't mind an Irish girl who had known how to mix drinks since she was ten.

 

[Syrrus]

"Ah, yes... about that I--" He kept forgetting. He knew the state of the world. Men ruled it, women stood by their side, strong and proud, if they had the money to spare. Unfortunately for most girls, this one included - many did not have that luxury. "I suppose I could-- Well, I suppose-- Maybe not... It all depends--" He frowned in thought, his own mind playing tricks on him. "I am no governess. My sisters, the younger two, are, and they teach young lads and lasses how to read, write and-- Well." He continued to frown, slightly embarrassed. "I would assume it to be rude of me to give you the treatment of such. As a lord.. though perhaps..."


The young man pulled out a pen from his pocket. "Perhaps as a friend, in secret, I could be so kind." He took a moment, clearing his throat. "To teach you, that is. At least until you can read the beauty of the written world that is poetry."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret's eyes grew huge as she spoke, nodding eagerly. But the longer that he stammered around for words, the more nervous she grew. "I have never received an offer so grand, and that is the truth, Sir." However, she was terrified on the inside. What if she slipped up? Her family wouldn't by the excuse that she accidentally learned to read. Maybe just enough to understand poetry, like he had said.


Her fingertips absentmindedly ran over the gilded pages, taking in the full splendor of such a volume. " I would be absolutely honored to learn from you. Is there anything that I can give in return? It should not be too difficult, since I already have a grasp of the spoken word..."

 

[Syrrus]

It sounded like such a horrible thing to say, any man would have taken the offer up; anything, it could mean so many things. However, it only made Victor feel more uncomfortable. He wasn't the strong male of which his father was. If he were, he'd be able to tell everyone how to behave, how and why. Victor knew the reasons to good behavior and he knew what was not acceptable, he only lacked the care. He was a artistic soul and with that came the rebellious thoughts.


Victor shook his head. "There is nothing I ask in return, but your understanding." He gestured around the messy room. "I am not the Lord my family made me out to be. The mess you see before you, is my life work, my collection and my passion. It is a embarrassing state. If you can understand, forgive and accept my nature, that would be all I possibly could ask. Of anyone."


The young man moved the top of the pen, round and round in the air in front of him. Lost in thought.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret looked a bit shocked when he requested her understanding; what was wrong with his current living state? But then it dawned on her. This man was of high breeding, expected to care about nothing but money and work and having as many sons as possible before his wife who he probably never truly spoke to gave out.


"Sir, with all due respect," she replied slowly, her smile a little coy, "there is no one better to understand your lifestyle than someone who lives in it. Do you forget that my family is a part of a lower cast than your own? This world is a familiar one to me, even if I cannot understand it because my resources are limited."


To be painfully honest, she was surprised that he hadn't asked for something more in return. Educating a woman, especially one of no money and respectability, could be considered a laborious and worthless task. And yet, he was willing. "Why are you willing to teach me, if you do not mind my asking?"

 

[Syrrus]

The young man frowned and leaned back in his seat, feeling out of touch, slightly - with his own thoughts. He cared little about his high standing, it was true; he never imagined anyone being below him either. "Look around." He said, gesturing at all the papers and books spilt around the room. "These books were written by men and women, all around the globe, some translated to the language of which we speak today. Our empire gives us that much, culture exchange and perhaps a little bit of understanding for others."


The man leaned far back in his seat, hair messy around his head. "All the books you see before you, majority of them were written by people blooming out of poverty. So called street rats, lawless and some of low military rank. The poet of who I quoted earlier this evening was one of hardship, an orphane taken on by a nobleman who cut him off early, spoiled by the core by money but nursed by the harshness of life."


Getting out of his seat, Victor decided to lit the fire, watching the growing flames within the fireplace. "Money brings a man's soul nothing. Science and knowledge brings a man all. I want to help you, for what purpose is there in knowledge and wisdom if it can't be transfer to newer generation, to be used and to grow further?"


He got back up, smiling her way. "Besides, dramatic wording aside; it is a crime to rob someone so young of the pleasure that can only come by reading and creating, no matter the gender. Before you ask why I would help a woman and not a man, my answer is simple. Look at me, and then try and recall my sister from earlier. Who do you think will survive the hardship of the new world, of the turn to technology? Whom do you believe to be the stronger soul? I can tell you, without having you guess that it isn't the man who stands before you. I know strong women, and I know strong men; women are far more terrifying in their rage, and far more willing to pass on their knowledge to others."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret watched him with complete rapture as he spoke so knowledgeably about a matter that she had been in the dark toward for the majority of her life. "You seem as if you've had much time to think it over," she responded slowly, watching the lines of his body as he stood, lit up by the fireplace. "And as if you have a good understanding of women, or so I have gathered. Do you have many lady friends?"


She cared little about how he took 'lady friends' fore she wanted to know everything, if he kept high company with the upperclass society women, or if he avoided them like the plague. Perhaps he was even married, and this was his residing place away from his wife.


"I will still feel guilty if you spend all of this time educating me for nothing in return. There is nothing I can give you? Not even a free drink?" A tinge of a smile crept onto her lips.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor gave her a long and thoughtful glance. "No, if I may be completely blunt with you, ma'am, I do not have a friend circle of any kind. I keep my social life within my family at all times." She were correct about him having a lot of time to think things over however. Time was one thing he had plenty of. "I have far too much time on my hands." He mumbled to himself as he sat back down, stretching his legs out in front of the fire.


She kept mentioning how she wished to repay him, something that Victor felt awfully uncomfortable discussing. Mainly because - if anyone would overhear them - it sounded awfully suspect. Many men would have taken their chance with a woman so young, especially one that sounded as if she gave from the Green Island.


The young lady then mentioned drinks and his eyes instantly perked up, something to his own distaste. Victor proceeded by rubbing his temples, frowning his brow. "I suspect that would only get the both of us in trouble, the free drink I mean." He looked back at her, smiling slightly. "I suppose I could always keep the idea in mind, would I ever need a request fulfilled."

 

[GreyZone]

She was more than slightly surprised by that; even she had a circle of friends. There was a group of other girls who had immigrated, and they often met up above the bar and did their hair up, purposely teasing the drunken men below with a flash of a skirt raised a tad too high. "Do you ever get lonely, just here with all of your books?"


Margaret was perfectly aware of his thoughts toward her promises. "Do not worry about that. I can trust you I will not be one of those foolish girls who learn about the ways of men on their wedding night."


"If you have any, I will mix you up one right now," she offered, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I have a little bit of experience with alcohol."

 

[Syrrus]

Victor continued to watch her with tired grey eyes, though he couldn't stop himself from smirking. She was a charming young girl. True that he was never confident enough to tell her, nor anyone else what he truly thought. He kept listening to her words, silently questioning every word she used, as if he thought there to be a underlying slyness to every syllable. She wasn't at all like his sisters, that was for sure. "Perhaps there is less I have to teach you after all. I knew when I saw you at the pub that you were suited for higher calling. Perhaps not poetry or music but a noble standing, I would believe."


Getting out of his seat, at her insistent of making him a drink, he started to walk back and forth over the floorboards. "Trust me, my young lady - I would love to share a drink with you, however, I believe I should be fit enough to walk you home. Without making myself out to be the fool. With my sister in town, it's for the best if I stay sober... Or close enough." He gave her a wink, before diving down on his knees, to rumble around on the floor - looking for something in the stack of papers and books.


"How about I give you some homework instead." He got back up, after finding what he was searching for, and approached her. In his hand he held a sheet of paper, upon it notes were written down. Simple notes suited for the piano and not the violin. A lady should not play a instrument that show of their figure, as much of their body has to be hidden at all costs.


As he handed her the paper, he removed the book of poems from her grasp, grinning down at her. "Instead of rewarding me, I will be rewarding you. For each assignment you accomplish I will read you a poem and the day you manage to read me one, with enough spirit to last me a life time and send me early to my grave; I will gift the book to you."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret had never been told anything along those lines in her life. "So the young man is charmed by the girl who's raw hands are as red as her Irish hair." She smirked. "Maybe I should teach you my language, return a little bit of the educating. English is not as easy as such a popular language should be. Fortunately, many in my home spoke it, but we still use Irish at home."


So he was planning on walking her home. "I doubt they would even notice my absence. In fact, we are so cramped they would welcome it."


When he handed her the sheet music, her eyes lit up with fascination as she studied it. "I have seen similar in the church at home. We have not found one here and it has been so many years. What is this for other than singing?"

 

[Syrrus]

"That, my dear, is meant for piano. Now, I know very well that it is not a instrument decorating most homes." He gestured towards the black monstrosity that stood in the corner, also covered in books, and a wilted vase of roses. "However, I believe it to be a great start, to learn the alphabet as well as simple notes, for simple melodies. However how different the alphabet for each would be."


The young man walked up to the piano and sat down, he opened the lid and placed his fingers down upon the keys. Moving his hands over them, making his fingers dance and caress it, like one would to a lower. He then began, after a short finger exercise that took no time at all, to play the keys, gently and yet with great passion. As he did so, he would speak the name of the notes out loud, one letter at a time.

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[GreyZone]

As he played, Margaret slowly crept behind him, her eyes darting between the sheet music and hands with complete fascination.


When he finished the lovely piece, her hand rested lightly on his shoulder. "That was absolutely beautiful. How in the world do you look at those black circles and transport them to the keys so beautifully?" She was dumbstruck. "When we would sing, I would listen to the starting sound and then moved my voice up and down accodingly. But I still do not understand how you can do that with an instrument."

 

[Syrrus]

"It is simply the trick of my father's." He lay his hands gently upon the keys, without playing them, once he was done. Staring emptily at the white and black shapes which magically could produce such wonder. "Though, hopefully my teaching will be a lot kinder than his. Pray, take a seat." He patted the spot right next to him and moved over, just a little so that she would fit. "I shall show you how to be a noblewoman, and how easy it is without money, how shallow the title is.


"Place your hands upon the keys, such as this. We shall start with the simple scales, it goes from C to B, in upwards oder. C, D, E, F, G, A and thereafter B. You play them all with one hand, move your thumb like so to reach, come now, don't be shy."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret jumped a little when her leg touched his, and she put a bit more space between them before focusing on the actual task at hand. "You do not seem very fond of your title," she mused. "Do you get along with your family? It looked as if you and your sister had some tension. What about you and your father?"


At his prodding, she slowly pressed down the keys one by one in a scale, trying to mimic the fingering he had used to the best of her ability. "What do all of these peddles down here do?" She asked curiously, pressing down on them one at a time. "I do not know if I have ever touched anything more beautiful."

 

[Syrrus]

As she mentioned his father, Victor had to try his hardest not to throw himself in the air by pure reflex. He continued, instead of acting irrationaly, to stare at the keys in front of him. "The pedals are for playing music in different variations of sound, there's the una corda pedal, the soft--" He pressed his foot down on the left pedal. "The sustain pedal, the damper--", he pressed his foot down on the right pedal. "Now, some useless trivia for you - my dear - if this were a American piano, there would be a pedal in the middle, called the sostenuto pedal, however, this is imported from Berlin and has no such thing, especially not since this beauty was made seventeen-eighty-four. That sort of add vas invented recently, I might add. If you wish to try a grand which such a thing; I'll ask my sister for her version, as I am certain she's already upgraded hers."


Victor stretched his back, and made sure to sit more comfortable as well as more fashionably.

 

[GreyZone]

She was not going to let him off the hook that easily. "Why are you not willing to talk about your father? Actually, that might be in answer in itself."


"That's very fascinating and I hope I will remember any of it," she responded with a light smile, pressing down on one of the keys. "I am just still so intrigued about how you can look at that piece of paper and your hands will know how to create something so beautiful."


Margaret's eyes flitted over to watch his. The greyness drew her in, the differences between his own to his sister's. They had the same color, and yet, their eyes were nothing alike."

 

[Syrrus]

Victor continued to watch the keys before him, his fingers dancing over them lightly, calmly as he began to play another piece, one hand only - using the three dominant fingers. "My father taught me the piano." He said, his voice distant as he concentrated upon the keys, more than the actual words. "For every miss step--" He played a sour note and slapped himself, hard over the back of the hand. "He would hit me with his cane, beat down upon my hands until red would paint over white, harder and harder, quicker and quicker." His fingers danced over the keys, quicker and quicker as he spoke, playing it correctly. "Until I one day would play, without fail."


He removed his hand, it was trembling and he placed it in his lap; before looking the young lady in her eyes. "I will teach you to look upon a sheet of paper, upon black specks of ink and see music as clear as day, almost as if you can hear the emptiness sing it."

 

[GreyZone]

She stiffened as he spoke about how his father taught him piano. Their father had always punished them according to their mischief, but nothing of that monstrosity. Her eyes fell down to his hand in his lap, her fingers reaching out to brush across his palm. "Why is it that he cared so deeply about your ability to play this instrument? It is not as if it is life or death."


As they spoke, one of her hands drifted up to play along the notes in the C-scale. "I still think the sound is beautiful. It is so sad that the memory is tainted by the cruelty of your father."

 

[Syrrus]

Victor's hand would twitch once she stroke her fingers across his palm. He frowned down upon the occurrence and attempted to keep his nerves still. He wasn't used to such a gentle touch, not by someone who wasn't hoping to marry herself into his family; those sort of things happened rather frequently. "Oh, it is." He responded, his voice calm as he watched her hand move over the piano. He placed his left down against the keys and began to play the same scales, though from a lower perspective, beginning with the pinkie. "For a man like myself, who lives on his title it is very much the importance of a life. If I was to become a musical genius, such as Beethoven or Mozart, I simply could not fail my scales - or a symphony of grander scale."


The young man's eyes fell upon the violin, leaning against the back of his chair. "He was the same with everything. My sisters were thought by my mother, to become teachers, proper ladies and perfect wives. I was thought, with the help of ice cold water, a cane and a bag of rocks, how to become a lord."


He began to write down the letter of the scales of which she was playing, together with the rest of the alphabet. Making the names of the notes thicker than the rest. "Perhaps this is enough for this evening."