An unusual hint of snow finally began settling upon Luân Đôn as early March creeped in, and the indian summer was over. Spring was a long ways away, and this fact hung deep in the pit of my stomach as I strained to get the door of my manor open, stepped inside, and closed it again. Though the house was poorly insulated, it was surprisingly still. As I removed my scarf and boots, I heard the gentle bubbling of liquid from the kitchen, the only lit room in view. The long yellow gleam cast a large shadowy rectangle across the entire dark floor in a straight path to the front door. I walked to it slowly. The overwhelming brightness of the phòng bếp, nhà bếp caused me to squint my eyes.
When I saw Sebastian standing there engulfed in the warm light of the kitchen, I felt exhausted almost immediately. I sat at the bàn without making a sound.
"Good evening." that was Sebastian, who's voice, despite the lateness of the hour, had a chipper tone to it. A red and white checkered cloth was placed neatly on the table. I recognized it from a drawer of the phòng bếp, nhà bếp I hadn't opened in months. A bowl of steaming súp dotted with large vegetables was set onto the napkin. The liquid sloshed lazily in the bowl but did not spill. Sebastian took my wrist and placed a shiny spoon in my palm gently. I wanted to protest the act of disgusting generously but resisted to jerk away and waste precious energy.
"My throat hurts." It came out thêm like a whining sob as I scooped up the yellow-brown broth and hoisted it to my mouth. It felt like lifting heavy cement boxes to the hàng đầu, đầu trang floor of a building with one hand. Suddenly unable to control the invasion of drowsiness attacking my throbbing brow and yanking my eyelids shut, I slid backward, grazing my skull against the firm chair back. I caught, threw my blurry vision becoming watery, Sebastian leaned over me with pale parted lips as his hair hung and limply concealed his prominent, glowing eyes. He shushed me.


"...doubt it's the plague."
"Hush; don't even mention such things."
"She hasn't a penny to her name, I don't see why the hell not."
"I đã đưa ý kiến hush! She's waking up."

My eyes strained open. A woman with fiery red hair sat on the edge of the giường with her hand in midair, leaning in, grasping a shiny metal instrument I traced back to her opaquely familiar face. When our eyes met, she gasped and let out a tim, trái tim yet relieved laugh and removed the device's plugs from her ears, folding it quickly in her lap.
"You scared me there for a minute, dear."
Thats what it was. She looked almost like... Ciel.
Elizabeth stood absently near the window. Even in profile, she was beautiful.
"Who are you?" The tường of my throat felt like it'd been replaced with feathers, but my raspy voice carried through it like chipped shards of broken glass. I felt I had an airway for such a voice the size of a nickel. Only my head poked out from beneath the fluffy sheets, and when I tried to lift an arm out of the mass of suffocating softness, I was rudely reminded of how cold my own house was.
But this was not my house.
"Angelina," the lady interrupted my dreaming. "I'm not a scary, strange woman," she let out another laugh, bending phía trước, chuyển tiếp to support her large smile. "I am a doctor. And bạn most certainly do not have the plague."
"Then what is it?" I asked, unaware I was even burdened with a virus in the first place. I collected my thoughts and continued as the doctor began to pack her supplies back into a leather bag that's black material glistened in the morning sun. "My throat hurts like the dickens."
She reached a pale hand, it's tips decorated with a deep red polish, to my forehead. The coolness caused my eyes to flutter shut for a moment.
"Just a cold." she smiled. Elizabeth, evermore stealthy, piped up,
"You're in Ciel's bed."
Was I?
I looked around drearily. Indeed I was. The closet 5 hoặc so feet from the end of the giường was there. Twin windows on the left. It was all there. I sat up in an abrupt, panicky sweat.
"But I—" The last bit of the sentence was smothered bởi a cough emanating that of an elderly man. My forehead was smashed against it's front bởi a mallet. Words attempted to tumble off of the doctor's lips, but there were none to overpower that of my strained choking. "—NO!" Holding but the impended tantrum, I nearly swore. "Bring me back home! This is nonsense! Bloody NONSENSE!"
"Sweetheart, Ciel is staying at my house."
I dug at my eyes. "No, no. I want to go home. I want to—"
"Is everything alright?" A slow voice was muffled behind the door. The doorknob gently turned and Sebastian gently stepped inward.
Elizabeth apathetically glanced at him from the reflection of the window, and Angelina whipped around with her strong palms finding a grip on my shoulders.
"Is our house guest being fussy?" he đã đưa ý kiến this in such a mocking tone. My head swirled again.
"Sebastian... Elizabeth and I have to depart now." she stood up slowly, agonizingly. She took Elizabeth's gloved hand, maneuvered quickly around the butler, and was gone. Sebastian stared at me from the opposite corner of the room; measured me with his eyes. Then smiled.
"Would bạn like something to eat?