Realistic or Modern Victorian London

[Syrrus]

Victor watched her as she spoke, his sunglasses laying on the bottom of the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows was slightly raised. An expression which suited him far too well. "My dear Margaret, you are asking the wrong person." He smirked her way, the right side of his lips curling upwards. "I can teach you how to act proper, true, but I do not know what 'proper' means to this woman. She despises us, the Edwards that is, no matter if you were the Queen of England, she would still be able to find a way to make you seem improper."


The young man pulled out a pen from his pocket and a small note pad from the other. It contained countless amount of scribbles, poems and notes. "Always smile, bow and let her speak first at all times. Never interrupt her argue with her or talk down to her."

 

[GreyZone]

She jotted down all of the instruction that she had received from the two on the back of her practice piano, reciting it to herself to commit it to memory. Would she be able to truly pull this off, or would she only make it worse for Victor? What if she failed miserably, and he stopped wanting to teach her? Now that there was the possibility of being able to read and write, she couldn't get it out of her head. It would break her heart if he gave up on her so soon. Perhaps this was some sort of test after all.


"You never answered my offer," she replied after a few moments of silence. "Do you want me to play your wife whenever someone questions it?"

 

[Syrrus]

Victor peered up from his notes, looking at her from the top of his glasses. She seemed worried, he could understand perfectly why. "Would you want to?" He smirked her way, wondering what the girl actually were thinking. She was a sweet little thing, though that was exactly what worried him so much.


He returned to his scribbles, while mumbling. "You'll be married one day, my dear, they you won't have time to deal with my little issues."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret shrugged, trying to avoid his gaze by staring at the letters that meant absolutely nothing to her. "I want you to keep teaching me." And there was something just so...exciting about the fact that a man of Victor's family history and wealth found her suitable to play this part. "I find it hard to believe that you do not know any other young women who would do a better job than I at tricking your poor grandmother into thinking you are not a bachelor."


"But I am only sixteen--" She froze. It dawned on her, and he was right. Her voice dramatically lowered. "My mother gave birth to my oldest brother when she was fifteen. By some standards, I'm practically a spinster and an old maid. But you do not have to worry." Margaret laughed bitterly, running her fingers over the drawn piano. "No men court the barmaid, I will guarantee you that."

 

[Syrrus]

Victor then started to laugh, it was a hearty and cheerful laughter which suited him far too well. He dragged a finger below his left eye. "Poor! Hah! That was a funny one. Oh, gods." He leaned back in his seat and shook his head. "There's nothing poor about this lady, she'll take your soul and eat your heart like the devil she is."


He then watched her silently, after calming down. "Being as pretty as you are, I am certain I have to worry."


Victor twitched as the train began to move and instantly dived back into his notes and scribbles. From time to time he'd write down a sentence or two on his shirtsleeve.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret laughed along with him, but it was more nervous than anything. "So is that why you didn't pick one of your pretty little lady friends? You thought it would be better to sacrifice the barmaid's heart and soul instead of theirs?"


She frowned at his compliment. "Pretty does not matter in the end. I have no money, no wealthy ancestors, no dowry to speak of, no standing in society at all. I will probably be stuck with some drunkard and spend the rest of my life bearing his bratty children and trying to get him to stop simmering in his own foul juices. Trust me, Sir, you will have no competition."

 

[Syrrus]

"I already told you." He continued to stare at his notes and scribbles. "I do not have any lady friends." He didn't have many friends at all, for someone so rich it was rather odd how he kept himself away from social circles. The world hardly even knew he existed and he preferred to keep it that way.


"Did you just describe me?" He gave her a sly smirk, peering up from his notes. "My dear, I am all that but not so poor. I am a drunk, a drug user and a lazy small excuse for a man. I get pushed around by women because I avoid confrontations like the plague. Trust me, you do not want whatever this is." He gestured towards himself.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret smirked at that, trying to avoid peering at what he was writing. "Oh, so I take it that you prefer the company of barmaids and prostitutes then."


A clear laugh escaped from her mouth at that comment. "But I assume that you /bathe/ and you actually have some brains to speak of. I would rather have a husband than a charge to babysit."


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

"A brain is all this man got." He muttered. "And what good does it do? Except depression and a longing search for happiness. No ma'am, I am not a healthy choice."


He pulled a note out of his pocket and unfolded it. "I think I owe you another poem." The young man cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat, he licked his dry lips and took a deep breath. "Thy soul shall find itself alone. 'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone--" Outside the window the city of London rushed by, begger's begging, children's playing. "Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy--" The city began to thin out, great tall trees with green leafs climbing from the tall blue sky. "Be silent in that solitude, which is not loneliness -- for then The spirits of the dead who stood--"


The countryside was a beautiful thing. The great climbing hills of the southern England, though Victor seemed more interested in his poem than the view. "In life before thee are again, In death around thee -- and their will--" The train hit a bump, causing his hat to fall off the rack above him and land neatly upon his head, as well as his sunglasses jumping upwards and ended up sitting neatly upon his nose - like they should. "Shall then overshadow thee: be still."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret smiled sadly at that. "But you never denied your utilization of the fine art of prostitution."


But as soon as he started reciting another poem for her... Her eyes drifted shut and she listened to the duration of it with rapture. "How anyone can create words of such beauty, I will never know," she whispered upon his finishing.


Soon after, she caught sight of the beautiful view passing by outside their window. She quickly leaned over Victor, completely fascinated. She had hardly been anywhere besides the block the bar resided on since they had came from Ireland.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

Victor opened his mouth to continue the poem, for it was of course not over, when the girl leaned over his lap to take a closer look outside. Twitching he pressed himself back against the seat of which he had made himself slightly too comfortable and blushed slightly. What in the world was going on? He peered out the window at the nature beyond and frowned slightly. She was fascinated by trees and birds? Women would never stop amazing him. He himself was more of a city man, technology, great machines and books where is life, nature were too much and too vivid.


The sun hurt his eyes too.

 

[GreyZone]

"Continue reciting," she whispered, her voice filled with bewilderment. "I doubt I have ever been happier in my life."


Of course, she was aware of their proximity, but didn't care enough about it to sacrifice the incredible view. "Oh., relax. We are married, aren't we?" She offered him a teasing smile.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

Victor blinked her way. She was awfully forward for such a young lady. He was used to shy and snickering things, not a lady who could speak her mind and do what she wished to do - would she get the chance. Folding the note back up, he planted it into his pocket and placed his hand on her back - for support and nothing else. "No, I'll keep it for another time." He gave her a weak smile and peered out the window, at the world speeding by.

 

[GreyZone]

Goosebumps immediately sprung up on her arms at his hand on her back, and she reminded herself quickly that it was nothing. "Oh, you are a tease," she whispered, her eyes still locked on the world outside the window.


"Where did your dear sister disappear to?" Margaret inquired, trying to make small talk to distract herself away from his touch.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

"Who knows, Lucille goes where Lucille goes. She's probably on the train, somewhere." The man shrugged and leaned further back in his seat, stretching out his long legs as far as he could. He missed his fireplace something awful. Peering out the window didn't help much either. He pulled his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and covered the rim of his top hat over his eyes. "We'll be in Horsham in about an hour." He mumbled, clearly too tired to speak. His hands were trembling and he knew exactly why.

 

[GreyZone]

She peered up at him before forcing herself back into her own seat. "Why do you always wear your glasses, inside and during the night? I think your eyes are quite handsome."


That's when she noticed his shaking hands as well. "And what is that from? Are you nervous?"


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

"I wear them because I always have a hangover." He smirked, though looked quite silly - having half his face obscured by a hat and glasses. "And no, I am not nervous." It was hard to tell, but Victor was peering down at his trembling pale hands. "I have withdrawal syndrome." He mumbled, clearly not too proud how his lack of good health, though he never wanted anything different.


"I would have still been in bed now, if it wasn't for my sister and her panicked ways." He muttered, angrily beneath his hat, before sighing again.

 

[GreyZone]

She smiled faintly at that. "I'm lucky if I get to sleep in until five. That is a blessed morning indeed."


She reached over and took one of his trembling hands in both of her own. "You really do need a wife, Mr. Edwards. It is not good for you to be all alone in your apartment doing whatever in the world you do. Do you really have no interest in a family? Children?"


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

"Aucun, none, nada, niet, no-- Which ever language you prefer." He smirked, finding himself awfully funny, though he couldn't help but feel out of place, with his hand in hers. "My life is exactly how I want it, to a T. I do not wish for a woman to change my ruitine or lifestyle, so no thank you." He moved the rim of his hat so he could take a long staring haze at her. "What point is there in love when it exists only to change the ones it love?"


He moved his hat back and closed his eyes." You seem very interested in marrying me though."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret paused to consider that for a moment before replying. "I had never thought of it that way. My parents get along very well and she never tried to change my father. He is the same loud and passionate man with a temper as fiery as his hair that he has always been. And why in the world would you marry someone bent on changing you?"


Margaret laughed loudly at that. "Oh, honey. I would be a foolish young girl indeed if I was not."


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

"Indeed, my money would be enough to last the both of us for a couple of life times without spare. Though my dashing personality is probably the winning complextion, no?" He smirked her way before shaking his head. It was a silly conversation. He was no one, he was a bag of money, that was pretty much it. "All you see is the beauty, but this is the ugly truth. You are going to feel the sting from my black and yellow heart, for the walls are caving in." He sat up, removed his hat and peered at her, his hair perfctly slicked back over his skull - yet a few curls managed to strok themselves free.


"Isn't it obvious? The both of us will get to a place where all there will be are mistakes. That, my dear, is the ugly truth. Yet you're so oblivious, isn't it obvious?" He looked out the window, leaned back against the glass before watching her intensly.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret wasn't detoured by his words. "I want to know what happened to you that gave you such a bleak outlook on life. I find you fascinating, really."


It was almost strange to see him without his hat pulled low over his face. "It's not as if you proposed to me, I am simply making observations. I certainly don't want to die alone, trapped behind that damned bar for the rest of my days."


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

"No I can understand that argument, unfortunatly I am quite pleased with my life - as long as my family keeps a mile or two between us." He continued to watch her as he spoke, holding his hat in one hand. "Though would I be unfortunat enough to have to meet other noblemen I'll make sure to tell them about you, in a hope that they will take you under their arm; I don't see why not."


If he wasn't so 'pleased' with life he'd marry her for sure.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret smirked at that, turning back to her papers to study. "So I am not good enough for you but I am good enough for another nobleman to marry. I see."


She honestly wasn't offended by his lack of interest, she just found it amusing. "What, you think I am not used to drunk and dreary men?"


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Syrrus]

"Do not twist my words, woman!" He frowned at her. "I simply meant that I do not wish to be wed, not to you, nor anyone else. That is my final comment on the subject." Victor wasn't certain how to behave around the young woman, to be frank he didn't have much experience with females.


"I am the man who takes a lover, a romance and a kiss, not a hand in marriage. It is hardly poetic enough." He waved a hand dismissively. "It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea--" Victor began to quote. "That a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee. And This maiden she lived with no other thought--" He removed his sunglasses and peered at himself through the glass. "Than to love and be loved by me. She was a child and I was a child, In this kingdom by the sea." He began to clean the glass carefully with the help of his shirtsleeve. "But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee. With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted her and me." Victor blew hot hair against the red shade and continued to buff it against his arm. "And this was the reason that, long ago, in this kingdom by the sea, a wind blew out of a cloud by night, chilling my Annabel Lee; So that her high-born kinsman came, and bore her away from me. To shut her up in a sepulchre. In this kingdom by the sea." He placed the glasses back over his nose and looked at her through the glass. "The angels, not half so happy in heaven, went envy with her and me: Yes! That was the reason (as all men know, in this kingdom by the sea) that the wind came out of a cloud, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee."


The young man spoke with certainty and continued to peer at the young lady sitting across him. "But out love it was stronger by far than the love, of those who were older than we. Of many far wiser than we. And neither the angels in heaven above, nor the demons down under the seam, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee: For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the Beautiful Annabel Lee; and the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-die, I life down by the side of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride." He gazed over his shoulder, out at the nature and the small houses they rolled by. "In her sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the side of the sea."