Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Dresses and Derangement (Shikokudarkstar & Charlie_Death)

Wise decisions, it would appear were not friends of Thomas Haly. He should really should have listened to John when he had said that Thorben Strand was a dangerous man. However, even with the threat of his death, he didn't feel very threatened by Thorben Strand. Instead he felt a sort of kinship to the man. Sure, Thomas wasn't nearly as violent as it appeared Mr. Strand could be. Where Thomas was all blitz and first fights...Thorben was cold and calculating. It wasn't the first time that he felt himself become almost jealous of his alter identity. Life would be so much easier for him if he was female. He could have gotten women to trust him at the first instead of having to work his way around. He would have been married with children by now if he had been a woman instead of a man. It wasn't that he wished himself female. There were perks to being a man. He did however wish that being in love with another man would not get him sent to jail or a madhouse.

"I hate the rich because of my father." Thomas found himself saying without thinking. He wasn't sure that this was the reaction that Thorben had been wanting with that explosion of information and sharing. However, since they were saying things that would end up with them in prison, he supposed it sort of made sense. "The only man I have ever wanted to kill was my father. He raped my mother or seduced her, I'm not totally sure. She would always have fits of panic whenever someone said his name or asked about my father. Then he threw her out onto the streets. If he wasn't a Count, I would have already had him. He kept my sister for his wife to play with and raise but you've heard that story. It's frustrating to me that I cannot get to him and that other women will end up like my mother. So I beat up the rich."

He looked at the manuscript in his hands and smiled. "I will definately enjoy thing as reading. I have always admired professional fighters and it's a shame that the practice is outlawed. It's flattering that my simple scrapping method reminded you of such a fine art." Thomas turned his blue gaze back to Thorben's before letting out a sigh. "I'll allow you to continue to court my sister. I suppose we should see where this goes."
 
Thorben began to understandhow the man was and the history between the two. He could sympathise with his cause, his main disgust for prostitutes was because of his mother who abandoned him. He was tempted to ask who the man was so that he could kill him for Arabella. He wanted no man to have any harm to her physically or mentally, nor anything that would hamper her happiness. However joyed he was that he was still allowed to court her, he was still displeased.

"I hoped you would reconsider your rejection more fully. I have already decided that Miss Lamb is to be my wife and I would wish for your blessings." Thorben spoke evenly. "I will not be asking right away, but I would enjoy getting to know her more. However, I didn't want to miss the right moment because etiquette dictates I must gain permission first. I can care for her financially, and I respect her as a woman that I will not force her to household duties if she chooses not to... But I do need to be assured that she feels the same way I do. And if not, how I can gain her affections. You will help me out with the latter, would you not? " Thorben offered a smile, the first one since they had gotten in the hackney. He didn't want to have to wait much longer to see Arabella alone, although his disgust of loose women will keep him at arm's length and honorable, but that doesn't mean he is immune to passing thoughts.
 
Thomas frowned before letting out a world weary sigh. He supposed he could admit it all. The man was a murderer and had given him proof of such. However, he often found that crimes of violence were different than that of passion. Thomas closed his eyes in thought, thinking only of how he was going to be fair to himself and Mr. Strand. The man was thawing out to Thomas as himself but he was still fanatical about Arabella. He had already told the man, albeit in a round about way that he would have to share himself between the twins. He didn't know what else he could tell the man. How else he could spell it out without saying the exact words. He put the manuscript inside of his coat before opening his mouth to form an answer. However he closed it when he couldn't form an exact reply. He instead thought a bit more about his rejection.

"I am not sure that I can offer you the hand of Arabella. My sister...she likes you. Please do not doubt that...but she can be no one's wife, Mr. Strand. Besides that, it has been found my sister has been found sterile. She can have no children of her own, Mr. Strand." He hoped that wouldn't send the man into a tailspin of violence but it was the honest truth. A man marrying another man was illegal and against the rules of the church. He supposed he shouldn't give the man too much ammunition since he knew he was treading an unseen line. "I've found, Mr. Strand that while proper is good for most places in society, it has no place in my home. I cannot stop whatever feelings that the two of you have. I don't even plan to but since we are spilling family secrets...."

Thomas leaned back, "I've been running a school out of my home for prostitutes. I educate them and give them references and skills to have a better life. Someone has been targeting the women I seek to help and Arabella knows just as well as I that we cannot settle down while this person is hunting. Our mother died as a prostitute. She had no family or husband to help her out. Since I became a man of means, I have been helping those that need me. Arabella has been as well. She makes far more money as an escort than I ever could with my writing or labors alone. And back to what it is that you seem to be missing....You cannot have one twin without the other, Mr. Strand. I cannot tell you the whole truth of the matter. I don't know you that well. Arabella does not know you that well. I cannot have her be the wife of a man that could very well send us to jail or bedlam with an accidental slip."
 
Thorben didn't want to take no for an answer. If he has to accept Thomas, well... he could easily respect the man. As he stared into his eyes, he had the odd sense that he was looking into the same blue eyes as Arabella. But that could just be that they are twins. It did not matter unless he got the person he wanted. He didn't flinch or react to the news that she was sterile. Until he had met Arabella, he had no interest in having what someone would consider a normal life. He didn't have any interest in courting or even getting married. He didn't even feel attracted to anyone or believe that he even had it in him to feel anything other than mild contempt for anyone. "It does not matter if she can bear children. In fact, I never desired any."

When prostitutes were mentioned, his eyes darkened and his face turned to its standard grim appearance. He could not stand them and didn't understand why someone would want to help them. They spread disease, abandon children, deceive. They weren't anything that needed to exist. Memories of his mother came to mind as he had walked in on her with men that weren't his father, before his death, before she abandoned him alone in a foreign country. How she always called him 'sick' and a 'monster' since they had left for England. For a moment he could still hear her voice, echoing in his head. He shut his eyes tight and rubbed his temple trying to suppress it. He nearly missed everything, forgetting where he was until he heard Bedlam.

He turned a harsh glare at Thomas before speaking in a whisper. "I would never subject anyone to that torture." He could have easily added that if he was to send his wife to an asylum, she could have easily have him sent to one as well.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, ignoring the whispers in the back of his mind. He may not have heard all that Thomas said, but the voices did. They told him they were the children of a whore, that they take care of other trollops. That if he wanted to bed Arabella, he may have to bed her brother. Oh, how it will add to his already troubled mind, a conflict of sexuality that he never fully developed. One of the voices seemed to laugh at the paradox that he finally found what could be love, yet he could never have it because he is the one that will prevent it with his murders. Should he confess that he was the one that murdered those Miss Lamb sought to protect, then she will hate him and turn him in. It was either kill or love and the man's demons seemed to relish in the idea that he will lose the one thing that silences them or the one thing that was a chance at his salvation. He felt like he was drowning and didn't realize he was still standing there, blocking the door. Without saying anything else he opened it and went to the front door, opening it wide for Thomas to leave. As he walked out, he grabbed him by the arm, but did not look at him.

"Forgive me.. I will need time to think this over, but I just have one question: What will you do if you found the killer?" 'Could someone really love a monster', he thought to himself.
 
Thomas smiled sadly, his attentive blue eyes watching the man before him. "I understand. It is not an easy decision to make. It was not one that I would wish to force upon you. However, you were most insistent on my sister. Honestly if you had not showed me that tie and given me the manuscript, I would have never reconsidered your rejection. We have much to lose and one cannot be too careful." Thomas looked away, "It comforts me much that you reacted as you did to the mention of bedlam. I never want myself or another to be inside that horrible place."

However at the next question, Thomas snapped his attention back to Arabella's suitor. He stared at the man's arm on him for a moment in thought. It was a hard question and not one that he had really thought of. Thomas wasn't so ignorant that he believed all the hype of senseless violence. There was always a reason behind what people did. He had to think about himself as well. He knew if given the chance, he would kill the man who fathered him. The general population would say he was mad and lock him away for his crime. It was rather obvious that he wasn't one to run screaming since he knew about the murder of Arabella's abuser and didn't react much to the vigilante crime. However prostitutes were the victims of this. Not all of them were good however but a great many were just down on their luck and had been hunted like animals.

Thomas turned his gaze back into Mr. Strand's eyes, frowning before finally breaking his silence. "I'm not totally for certain, Mr. Strand. Everyone has a reason for what they do and it is for that reason I would hold my fire and not wish his immediate death. However this criminal has been killing innocent women who were only trying to make it out in their world. Some of them were not the best of women, sure but some of them were just lost. They didn't need to die like that. It would also depend on how I found said criminal as well. I can't guarantee that I wouldn't shoot on sight if I saw someone I cared about as their victim. It would also depend on the person committing the crimes. How well do I know them? My views, just as this world are not black and white, Mr. Strand. Living as I have around those who are seen as criminal has made me more accepting of the shades of gray in our world. I know this isn't probably the answer you are seeking but it is the only one I have to give. If it was a good person, who perhaps lost their way as well, then perhaps they could serve a penance? However if they only sought our those women to hunt for the trill, without reason or trauma driving them, then that Mr. Strand...would be unforgivable."

Thomas put on his top hat. He looked at Mr. Strand with a deep sigh, "You have a lot to think about and I am sorry. I wish things were simpler but they are not. I'll give you a few days to collect your thoughts. After that I will consider your silence a rejection and move on back to as we were. Please remember, however. You are the closest thing Arabella has had to a suitor." He tipped his hat goodbye before getting into a hackney for home. Whatever the man chose, Thomas wouldn't fault him for it. However there might be more offenses worth fighting for if Thorben Strand completely rejected him. It would be a relief however, to have all of this over one way or another.
 
Thorben didn't even offer a goodbye, he was still lost in his own mind, trying to listen through all the noise to what Thomas has said. There was a chance, a small one but still a chance. He himself didn't know why he had to target them besides being disgustingly filthy, resembling his whorish mother before her husband's death, and that he was simply told to. It wasn't often that his sickness would manifest itself as audible voices, hallucinations that wouldn't let him rest, but when they did, it was for blood. He enjoyed a good hunt, he couldn't deny that, but there was no other target that was as suitable to the tastes he developed than the diseased harlot.

He walked to his room and slowly undressed, carefully taking off each article of clothing that he wore and discarding it neatly. He sat on the bed listening, trying to make sense of all that was going on. Could whores be really seen as an innocent victim? No. No one is innocent in this mad world. He laid there, atop his bed, stark naked with the only light coming through the curtains. He pressed the tip of the scalpel into a finger and slowly spun it, ignoring the pain that followed or the warm trickle of blood that made its way down his arm. He was at an impossible cross roads.

Someone has to die. Someone soon. Another whore. A pretty whore.

Staring up at the ceiling, Thorben shut his eyes and let himself be swallowed up by the noise. The following day did not offer much comfort. His body was stiff and cold from a restless sleep. Memories, he had thought were long gone resurfaced. His elbows ached. He couldn't recall what the memories were after a few seconds of being awake, but he knew that dull ache well. He had once been restrained in a straitjacket once in his youth. His exploring with the neighborhood strays did not sit well with his father. Where he went, he couldn't recall any detail other than the pain in his elbows and the stale, bitter smell of unwashed bodies and the screaming, the ceaseless screaming. He felt the noise return, demanding he kill. He wanted to sink his blade into something warm, soft, and living. It was what he was. A murderer.

When he dressed he couldn't decide if he should go out. There was still so much to consider, like Miss Lamb. Oh, his not-so-delicate Miss Lamb. He wanted very much to go see her, to be within her company and feel the odd calm that was so rare to him. He felt complete with her around, that something about her was different from any woman he ever knew. That he wanted to be by her side and that uncontrollable jealousy that arouse at the thought that someone may try to take his place as a suitor. She was his. He wanted her more than anything. But he couldn't decide if he wanted her enough to live through the noise. He got antsy if he didn't kill. When it wasn't a prostitute, it was someone that had offended him, but such offenses weren't as commonly found as a whore's call. No man called out to him to hunt. As satisfying as his last murder was, it wasn't the same. There wasn't that careful planning that went into everything. The set up of the kill zone, finding his prey and luring her to his domain. There, he was fully focused and alive with purpose... Almost the same way when he watches Arabella, when he steals away from his daily routine to watch her escort a lady down the street. Perhaps it was time for a new kind of hunt, one in which every man knew well, excluding Thorben.

He couldn't get himself to leave, his mind still reeling as it tried to comprehend what to do. By the end of the day he believed that perhaps it was a time to change, to give up building a name that will go down in history. He loved so much to be known and feared by all, yet loved and respected by those that feared his deeds. He was like a god walking among mortals as Jack the Ripper. Everyone was talking about it, everyone feared they may be next, even if they weren't a prostitute. Many people had even talked to him about it while others tried to get their own part in his glory with false letters. He was willing to give up immortality for Arabella Lamb, but what of Thomas Haly?

Thorben wanted to scream, to throw things in a tantrum at the thought that he had to share either himself or Arabella. He had no interest in Mr. Haly, even if he had those same damning blue eyes. Blue eyes that seemed to have the same emotions as Arabella, the same colored hair and face.

'Isn't it funny how twins are identical? That one cannot tell them apart? Even when they're fraternal?'

Thorben had been lying in bed on what would have been his fourth day of contemplation, arm tossed over his eyes to shut out the world when the voice's remark struck him. What was it about twins the doctor had said? That identical twins are always the same sex? But Thomas and Arabella are different. Was one lying about being a man or a woman? And what was with Thomas insisting that if he had one, he would have the other? He knew the longer he took the more he risked being forgotten as Arabella's suitor, but he had to figure it out, had to find what everything meant and shut up the noise. His demons wouldn't let him rest, wouldn't let him eat properly. Hours later of pacing it finally hit him.

The only way that Thomas's words would make sense was if they were the same person. Just as Thomas had the same healing bruise on his face that Arabella had received. He felt his legs go weak as he collapsed on the floor in realization. Four days of going over everything, of deciding on what to do and it finally struck him as a blade to the heart. He had fallen in love with a man. Not just any man, but the man he had planned to kill. Yet he carried himself so respectfully and elegantly as a woman, he couldn't even tell. He had noticed the striking similarity when they had met but he had passed it off as being mistaken. How he was wrong then. Expecting the need to be sick at the realization, Thorben was further confused on why that revelation didn't seem to matter. If Arabella was Thomas, then Thomas was also a way to silence the voices, albeit he wasn't as captivating in men's attire.

He got up and washed his face in the wash basin in his room, staring at his reflection. He almost looked sickly with circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and his hair having not been properly combed. He gave up two days ago on maintaining his image when he realized he was not going to be leaving the confines of his home. Leaning on the stand he looked back at the blades that he had laid out the day before. If he was going to settle this, he wanted to get one last kill. After this one, there may be no more. He would have to learn to control himself some other way, find some new prey to stalk in the shadows... Perhaps the man that sired Thomas and Arabella... or just Thomas.... or just Arabella... or... who should he address in this situation? Best not to think about it, time was already running short. He had to deliver his answer before time ran out and it is decided that his silence is a rejection. Thorben gathered his tools and wore a longer coat than usual and headed out into the night. One last victim, and then no more.
 
Four days seemed to pass by in a blur of gray haze and Thomas had taken to working as Arabella more. He had been out with the polite society almost every night. The rules of a proper woman were as always constricting but rather comforting in that he really couldn't act out too much. He had to give his suitor a chance to think about what Thomas had told him. Mostly about what he had heavily implied with him and his sister being the same person. At least he hoped the man would figure that out instead of assuming they were incestuous. Wouldn't the man be surprised if that was the case? There was no two for one deal in the household of Thomas Hadley and Arabella Lamb. Thomas was pretty much doing the job of two people and getting run ragged for it. He returned late on the night of the fourth day ignorant of the happenings around him and falling face first into the bed. The client that night had been a woman going around the season for the second time without finding a match. She was a rather comely girl but nothing overly exciting. In fact, with all the frills and fashion, she came off as rather bland. She was charming to work with but her Aunt was an absolute horror. If Jack the Ripper did high society kills, he was sure someone would point him in the direction of that woman. She was an absolute horror and probably why no one wanted the girl. Thomas knew he wouldn't want to marry into that family. He felt sorry for the poor bastard that ended up with that lot. He would have to take his new bride across the country to get any peace.

The morning of the fifth day, Thomas hobbled down the steps dressed as himself. John had set out breakfast and was eating his own. Thomas smiled at the paper that the man held in his hands. He supposed he would have to ask John about the paper when the man was done or he would have if the front page hadn't caught his eye. 'Jack Ripper Strikes Again' the title letters screamed out. John looked a little pale and Thomas was concerned. Was it someone that the man had known? Perhaps he had worked with her when he had been Joan? Thomas laid his fork down, "Was it someone we knew?"

"No, but I heard the cries. Whoever did this is a monster of the worst sort. I had been asking around the girls and seeing if anyone wanted to come to your school but they had become complacent with the pause in killings. I'm sure they will line the streets now, wanting a chance to get into your school." John folded the paper before sighing, "I wish it didn't have to come to this."

Thomas hummed, "I wish it didn't either but you know as well as I do that they do not believe in the change I offer. They will learn when the whispers of success happen. I already have staff placed in some of the wealthiest homes. Retired whores now cleaning floors and teaching children. I believe that counts as success but a lady can make more as a lady of the night than an honest worker." Thomas looked at his friend, "Do you believe that Arabella's suitor will come back?"

"As obsessed as that man seemed with her? Definitely. I still did not like the look in his eyes. I would be careful Thomas. He wants nothing but to possess her and wants no one to get in his way. I have a strong feeling he would kill all other suitors if they took an interest." John huffed, "I have seen men like him before."

Thomas shrugged, sure he had killed the man who had bruised him but he didn't ever feel threatened by Thorben. Then again he was the object of obsession and he really had no survival instinct to speak of. Whatever the man decided to do...the decision was in his hands.
 
The lull in the murders in Whitechapel seemed to have made the women complacent, either it was because they thought it was safe or had confidence in the company that they were keeping. Thorben didn't care which was the cause for the whores to wander the streets, all he cared was that they were in the open, wandering dark streets while he was on the prowl. His blades kept hidden in his large coat and his hat's brim pushed low, he kept to the shadows, eyes watching every movement. While he was out, he spotted a woman who was parting with a client. His gut called out that this will be his mark, but it was already apparent that she was having regular business. While he was watching her she met with another client and disappeared from his sight. To remain unsuspicious, he stole away in an alley near Berner Street, keeping an eye out for his mark. A woman looking similar to her bumped into two men and had an altercation. After glancing further down the road he saw another man witnessing the event. She was a lost cause at this point, too many witnesses could pin point him if he emerged.

Anger welled up inside him for losing that opportunity to relieve himself of his dark urges, but a part of him knew that it was for the best. After all, when she fell to the ground, her voice sounded different. All these whores look the same with their dark clothing, stowing away in the comfort of a stranger's arms for money. As he was leaving the area, he turned a corner too sharply and bumped into a woman. On instinct, he quickly apologized and remained courteous until she opened her mouth and spoke to him.

"That voice..." Thorben thought as a smile crept across his face. The woman he had bumped into, dressed so similarly to the woman who was accosted, was his target. The same one he watched meet two clients, stowing away to earn her crude wages. Feeling too eager to kill, he failed in making her feel comfortable to meet with him. It could be that she was done for the night, or that the wicked grin and predatory gaze he peered down at her was telling. Whichever the cause, she pushed him away and made to go in a different direction. He was still near an alley and desperate to kill that he quickly followed, shoving her aside as soon as she was near a dark yard. She gave out a yell to which he muffled with a gloved hand as he reached for his scalpel, slicing her throat, silencing her like the others. He felt a wave of relief course through his veins as the blood flowed from her neck and her struggling ceased below him. He snatched the bonnet of her head and moved to prepare to lift her face into better light to see the expression when the sound of hooves echoed nearby. He cursed under his breath as he pulled away from the body, taking with him her purse in the event he couldn't return. After all, Jack the Ripper doesn't rob his victims, with luck, the police with believe she was just robbed.

Thorben watched on the far side of the yard as the horses pulling a cart were spooked by the body. She was hidden well in the shadows so that anyone passing wouldn't notice her and he could return, but he hadn't quick accounted for the perceptiveness of animals. He watched angrily as the body was discovered as the driver struck a match to see what was frightening his horses and as he anxiously looked around. He couldn't return to finish his work. Glancing down at the small coin purse he took, he was glad he thought quickly to take it.

More... More blood... This isn't enough...

He dug the heel of his palm into his temple as he thought about what to do. He assigned himself to just one more victim but this was no where near as satisfying and he came so close to being caught just now. No... He needed to try once more. Then, once he was satisfied, he will quit. He will try to change himself for the sake of being with Arabella. He pulled out his pocket watched and peered at the time under a gas lamp. It was just after 1. There wouldn't be as many police awake at this hour and with the body found, they will be concentrated in investigating the immediate area. Tucking the watch away, he walked quickly down the streets, dodging any sounds of people for nearly 15 minutes as he made his way towards the western edges of Whitechapel. He was to find one more victim and have more time while others were distracted.

He ducked into the shadows when he noticed a patrolman walking in his direction. Knowing the patrolling habits of Whitechapel's protectors, he knew he would be safe to get his business done and quickly. Thorben approached a woman walking alone and immediately was met with the lingering odor of alcohol mixed with her perfume. No proper lady would be out past 1 in the morning reeking of alcohol, which meant she was just what he was looking for. After convincing her that he can be trusted, he lured her away to an area that was secluded in Mitre Square. When her back was turned to him he moved to cut her throat, missing and sliced her face. Out of shock she hesitated to scream, only to manage to choke on out just before he managed to slice her throat. Keeping away from the blood pouring out, Thorben slashed at her face more in retaliation of her futile attempts to alert someone nearby, each slice bringing him closer to his false sanity. Tearing away the buttons of her dress, he cut into her abdomen, tearing out her intestines. With each inch extracted, the voices and urges were repressed, satisfied as he placed it away from the emptying cavity. Making one final incision, he reached into the body and pulled out her kidney, wrapping it in the bonnet of his previous victim before removing himself from the scene. As he was leaving, he saw a patrolman making his way towards the square, but by the time he would have discovered the body, Thorben had already vanished in the shadows.

Although Thorben did not take pleasure in keeping a trophy of such unsightly creatures as prostitutes, those two fresh bodies in the streets were something special. They were to be his last two, unless something set him off and he could no longer keep the demons inside him at bay. He washed up and slept, waking up closer to noon where he immediately bathed and dressed himself well before making his trip to Arabella/Thomas' home. Ordinarily, he would have sent a card on when to expect him, but at the moment he was hoping more to deliver his answer before it is too late. Adjusting his coat as he walked up the steps to the door, Thorben wondered if he was truly making the right choice. He shook his head to brush away the thoughts. This was the right choice. He came close to being caught just hours ago, knowing that he watched from the shadows the discovery and no one had directly looked at him, he felt immortal. Truly, he was cut from a different cloth from the men around him, just as Arabella was. Without any further hesitation, he knocked on the door with a new resolve and a clear mind.
 
John glanced back at the door before the knock actually was heard. Thomas could swear the man had supernatural instincts. They weren't expecting company so it was unusual that someone would visit but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Thomas finished breakfast while John was answering the door. The butler came back with a less than pleased look before huffing. "Your suitor is here. I left him in your study since he didn't look settled enough for the parlor. I didn't want him to unsettle the girls. They are sensitive after the morning news." John shut the door behind him. Well then, Thomas would have to see what Mr. Strand was about. Had he figured it out? Thomas wouldn't be surprised at all if he did. The man had been thinking over for five days. It was a fair guess that the man had at least thought of Thomas and Arabella were the same person.

Entering the room, he found Thorben standing in the study, looking around but not so rude as to touch anything. Thomas waved a hand to invite the man to sit before settling himself into the seat across from the man. He rested his elbows upon the desk before turning his attention to the gentleman before him. Thomas finally was the first one to speak, "It is good to see you Mr. Strand. I was afraid I had frightened you off with my unusual arrangement. I take it that you wish to remain Arabella's suitor. Or is this a polite farewell?" Thomas didn't chide the man for not sending a card. It was good to know that the other man could break the rules every now and again. That was good when Thomas was doing illegal things like crossdressing. Of course now that he thought about it, his suitor, or Arabella's suitor really, had killed a man like a dark avenging angel. Thomas watched for a while longer before finally he couldn't stand the polite but sideways talk.

"May I be blunt?" Thomas let out a sigh, "I know this is rather forward of me to ask but....you figured it out didn't you?" Thomas pulled his hair from the tie before huffing, "I saw you looking certain places, Mr. Strand. I am aware it is....most unusual to live the lifestyle I do. I have found though that there isn't much call for gentlemen in our world. Not in places of business and forgive me for saying this but I was jealous of how the other half live." He sighed, "I did once have a sister but she was lost to me as a mere babe. I figured it was no lie to use her name as my own. Not many suspect me. Even in my own house, only John knows of Arabella and I." Thomas huffed slightly amused, "I am sorry that you have to get me with her, Mr. Strand. I heard I have become rather a pariah of polite society. Amazingly though, the more I act out, the more Arabella thrives. I find that interesting don't you?"
 
Thorben had almost expected Thomas to answer the door himself. Seeing John answer allowed him to realize that there really was proper etiquette in this house, although the look he got from the young man was far from welcoming. He could sense that the man was suspicious of him, that he knew something. His instincts told him that John had to be silenced for whatever it was he knew, but he brushed those thoughts behind him. That wasn't just because the two from earlier were to be his last, but because he most likely was suspicious of him because Thomas may have shared what he had done. He spoke the standard pleasantries in being invited in as a guest and maintained what etiquette remained to be broken as he followed John to the study.

As he waited he took a look around the study trying to find some evidence of impropriety. Although this was indeed the study of Thomas, the drunken lout, it wasn't as rough looking as he would have anticipated. He took in the décor, the placement of everything, before standing in the dead center of the room. He held his hat in his hand, waiting for his host to enter and grant him permission to make himself comfortable. Not that he thought he could feel comfortable in this situation. When Thomas, not Arabella, entered the room, Thorben felt a bit dejected and unsure of himself. He knew he had to accept that Thomas and Arabella were the same person but he had felt that it would be much easier if he could talk to someone who had more face.

"I apologize for not sending notice sooner that I will visiting," he began after being addressed by Thomas. "I had hoped you did not make any assumptions after my long absence. I wanted to give my answer in person." His grip on the brim of his hat tightened for a moment as he took in the masculine appearance of Thomas. He had such an enchanting figure in women's attire that the more he looked the more he can make it out. The way his waist was narrower that most men, the softer face, and those damning eyes. He was lost in thought when he was addressed with a blunt statement. He diverted his eyes away from the perplexing man before him, listening to what he had to say.

"Once again, I find myself needing to apologize. I did not mean to stare so..." he paused for a moment before muttering, "salaciously." He cleared his throat and spoke as he made eye contact. "You're assumption was correct. I have come to the realization that you are Miss Lamb. You're right, it is quite interesting that the more crass you are, the more of a saint she seems. I commend you for keeping the two so separate to such a degree, as deceptive as it is. But then again, we both know how deceptive outer appearances may be." He drummed on the brim of his hat with his fingers before taking a step forward, eyes never leaving those of Thomas'.

"About that answer, on whether or not I shall remain Miss Lamb's suitor." He tightened his grip on his hat, feeling anxious, terrified, angry, and excited all at once. Too many emotions that were unrestrained, boiling inside. "It was not an easy thing to contemplate, especially when you account for the circumstances that surround such a decision. But nevertheless, I have decided that Miss Lamb... you... may very well be what I need. But you must forgive me. Although you are a man and must dress and behave as such..." He let out a heavy sigh and spoke softer than he had, "you are much more vexing dressed as a woman. Might..." he lowered his hat to his side and took another step closer. "Might I address and treat you as such? I know not how such a relationship can even function. There is no proper etiquette, no proper behavior in such an... unconventional courtship."
 
Thomas blinked slightly startled at the request to treat him the same as a lady would be during courting. The man sighed before rubbing his head and stirring up the ringlets. It would seem that Mr. Strand knew just what to say to tie Thomas's insides into knots. Although John had warned him many times about Mr. Strand's seeming obsession with Arabella....Thomas found himself enchanted with being the center of attention. Heat flushed through his body into his face. The question of courtship had to be answered though. It took Thomas a few moments to collect his thoughts, those sharp eyes of his would-be suitor swallowing him up. The man obviously knew the moves even if he had never used them before.

"In light of the circumstances, Mr. Strand. I believe that it would be a wonderful idea to treat me as such." Thomas's voice had switched to Arabella's without really any thought. As his fires were stoked within, it seemed that his reaction was to be Arabella. Heat colored his cheeks when he realized what he had done. It was times like this he wished he had explored his inner needs more. Perhaps it was silly but he had always thought to save himself for his marriage like a woman would, long before he had found out how much he did in fact want to be a woman. Well, a woman with male parts, he was rather repulsed by female genitals. Perhaps it had been because of his mother's rather unusual occupation? She did have an unusual way of oversharing when she was tired. He hadn't seen female parts until his friends had jokingly bought him a night at a brothel. A night that he didn't use. Was that something he should mention? He felt like he should but he wasn't sure if he could.

Thomas pulled out brandy from his hidden drawer. He poured himself a drink before collecting himself, "In spite of the drunk I play, Mr. Strand. I am not a man of the world. Or should I say, Arabella is not a lady of the world?" He wasn't sure if Mr. Strand would understand the innuendo but hopefully the man would have pity on him and take the lead in this courtship dance. "Despite Arabella's popularity it would seem that serious courtship was never on the table. Since you are more experienced perhaps you'll lead the way?" Thomas wasn't really one for subtle now that he thought about it. Other than the subtle hint of his virgin status, he was more than happy to spell out his requests. Provided he was dressed as a man. It always seemed somewhat awkward to be an aggressive lady. A proper lady would never be so forward and since he spent a good deal of years perfecting his proper manners, he wasn't going to spoil them by acting out. That was for his male identity. After all, a man could get away with a good deal more than a woman could. Even a man with unseemly chest additions. They did work well for Arabella though, he would say that.
 
Thorben was silent as he waited for a reply, and when it finally came in the voice of his dear Arabella, he felt his earlier tension ease. Yes. This truly was his Miss Lamb. It was a shame that the blushing face and gaze that met his was of Thomas and not her. A smile spread across his face, similar to the one that would often reach his lips in the dead of night in being accepted as a suitor. He tucked the smile away before Thomas could look back at him after retrieving the brandy. It seemed the right etiquette to share a drink with a man, but at the same time, it seemed somewhat off putting knowing that he was also a dignified lady. He caught the hidden reference to his virginity, something that somehow escaped his contemplations. So the person he intended to court has kept his virtue, untainted by the sinful pleasures of flesh. It had often upset him to unintentionally catch the conversation of young ladies at parties as they share some of their exploits. It almost seemed that proper behavior suiting women was lost in the world, yet the most unconventional and refined young lady was a man.

However, all good feelings over the revelation was lost in a moment. His own experience was brought up. He could not share the light of virtue with the person seated in front of him and he suddenly felt inadequate. Dirty. Unfitting to be the suitor and husband of such a saintly person as Miss Lamb. Without intention, he tightened his grip on his hat and ground his teeth as his jaw clenched shut as he struggled to maintain his composure. There they were, the long fingers of memory inching into his mind, touching softly before the whispers could reach his ears. He had lost what virtue he had in his youth. It was unpleasant experience that he had hoped to forget. The first woman he had ever lain with was a prostitute. One that perhaps in her own warped way wanted to give him comfort at the news that his mother had left him alone in a foreign country. The whole time she had touched him, he could see only his mother rutting about with different men when he had peeked through the crack in the door. He felt nothing but revulsion with the acts he had witness and had often taken out his frustrations on animals until he was locked away. When his father had retrieved him, his mother stole him away and made for England, spreading her legs to pay for fare and food. In his anger at the reminders of his mother, he had strangled the prostitute. It was a struggle and he came out worse for wear with bruises, scratches, and sick to his stomach. The whole experience was a duality of firsts, the first woman he had lain with and the first human life he had taken.

He shut his eyes and took slow deep breaths to calm himself. Sure he had thought about having such relations with Arabella but he hadn't gone so far into the details. It was something he would have to work himself up to, but if there way anyone he would let touch him, it would be her, or rather Thomas. Once he had calmed he spoke, hoping he hadn't frightened Thomas too much as he took the brandy he was offered.

"I must apologize that I am not as virtuous as you. I would rather not remember the limited experience I had." He looked at the drink before adding, "Although I am sure we are both aware that whatever prior experience I may have had with a woman, will do me no aid in this courtship." He cast a look into his eyes before drinking and having a seat. "You are the first person to ever rouse my interest."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom