An Advanced Victorian Steampunk Roleplay discussion
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The Kaylock Twins'
Ben laughed when he heard that the boys could not sit through their entire tutorial session, reminding him entirely too much of himself. "I am glad to hear she lets them run wild still. Boys will be boys," he chuckled. "Dinner sounds fantastic and I would be more than happy to give you whatever legal advice you need. What did you do this time, Bert?" Ben grinned.
"It's a delicate situation," Bert said truthfully. "I'd rather...speak about it with you when we're behind Geoffrey's wards."He couldn't help but look at Ben. It's for Vivian's sake.
She told you too, then. Ben nodded in understanding. "Sure, Bert, whatever you prefer."
Told me what?Bert was confused. Vivian hadn't said anything about Joeri - the young man had told Bert himself. But he smiled. "Alright. That's settled then."
Fuck! Ben cursed. Er....For once he was completely at a loss for words. "Let's go look at the bedrooms," he said hastily.
They went back into the house and upstairs. "I was thinking of this one for you," Bert confessed as he pushed open a door.
"Bert! This is fantastic!" Ben said. "You know me so well."
Bert grinned. They finished up the tour of the house, ending back where they'd started on the front steps.
"So," Bert said, slinging his arms over Ben's shoulders, "let's make an offer on it already?"
"Let's do it!" Ben clasped his brother on the back, happy to finally have a place of their own.***END OF SCENE***
As much as she hated to leave Joeri’s side during such a short leave, Vivian had promised Bert she would come to call the evening after her birthday. Memorising her brothers’ new address, she rode Dulcinea out of McCann’s Stables and out of central London.The old Hartley house – now yet another one of the Kaylocks’ many chalets, mansions, and castles – loomed at the top of a sweeping gravel drive, and Vivian rode up enthusiastically. This was the house where Ben had hidden her in a laundry chute during hide-and-seek – and then forgotten about her. Grinning to herself, Vivian rode up to the front where a groom took Dulcinea and a footman showed her inside.
Bert was there to greet her and, after linking arms, they strolled into the parlour together. Bert shut the door, poured his sister a glass of whiskey, and asked, “So, how was the rest of your night last night?”
Grinning, Vivian held out her hand. “He proposed!” she exclaimed. “The ring is made from a gear that he had in his arm – it had to be taken out on his last tune-up.”
Bert hugged her tightly, smiling wryly at their young love and adorable sense of romance. “Have you set a date yet?” he asked once he’d let her go.
Vivian scrunched up her face and sat down. “No, we haven’t gotten there yet,” she laughed before taking a sip of her whiskey.
Bert poured himself a glass and toasted her, “Congratulations, Vivvie darling.”
After a short moment, Vivian asked, “So, what’s up? Why’d you want to see me?”
“Just to spend some quality time with you,” Bert told her. “We haven’t had much time since I got back, really – aside from when you showed me your new house, anyway – and I wanted to…catch up with you. I feel like I missed a lot when I was away in Tasmania.”
Vivian stared at her glass for a moment. “Yes, that makes sense, I suppose,” she murmured.
Bert regarded her for a moment then dove right in. “You’ve changed a lot, Vivvie,” he said. “Sometimes I feel that…that there’s a lot going on inside you. Is there…anything you want to tell me?”
Vivian swallowed hard and looked up into Bert’s blue eyes, her own green ones wide and imploring and sad. Then she looked down, biting her lip, before taking a large gulp of her whiskey.
Bert sat down in a chair across from hers and reached out for her hand. “Vivian, come on,” he coaxed. “What happened?” He feared the worst – what had gone on in his absence?
Vivian squeezed his hand but still said nothing. Inside, her mind was reeling. Oh, God, where do I begin?
“Vivvie,” Bert said softly, “Vivvie, come on. It’s me. You can tell me.” He paused. “Did somebody hurt you?” he asked fearfully. “Was it Father or Jess?”
Vivian shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I…I wish it was that simple…”
She drained her glass, and after a long moment, Vivian finally told him. She told him everything she had told Bert and Joeri about her nefarious job, and found herself crying as she spoke, the whole goddamned truth coming out. Everything - except for the last job, because he and Ben didn't know about Geoffrey - came out at last to the one last person Vivian loved dearest. The pain of knowing she’d hurt Ben and made him upset with her was bad enough. Joeri’s quiet acceptance of it had helped a bit, though. But then she looked up finally into Bert’s blue eyes and realised that he had withdrawn his hand a long time ago, and now stared at her.
He was staring at her with the look she’d expected from Joeri: utter disappointment, confusion, hurt, and…
Oh, dear God in Heaven.
“Bert, please,” Vivian whispered. “Please don’t hate me.”
Bert got to his feet and began pacing, a storm brewing around his body.
“Are you insane?!” he finally demanded, his voice still at a normal volume but thunderous nonetheless. “Vivian, did you go mad when we left?”
Vivian bit her lip and looked down, steeling herself. You deserve it, Vivian. You deserve it.
“What if you had been caught? Do you have any idea what that would have meant for all of us?” Bert continued, his voice rising. He didn’t wait for her to answer. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say for herself – not yet.
“What the hell kind of people were you associating with, Vivian?” he continued. “What sort of person did you pretend to be while you were out in the London underworld? Oh, dear God,,” Bert said suddenly, turning suddenly and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Vivian, tell me you didn’t…you didn’t…” He fought for his words. Now is not the time to be delicate. Now is the time for the whole goddamn truth. “Tell me you didn’t sell yourself for any of this,” he pleaded.
Vivian hesitated, her eyes downcast. The night with the Spaniard at the Grand Hotel definitely counted as selling herself. She had given him her body and what little dignity she had at that point in exchange for those items. Fearfully she looked up at him.
Her reaction and the pain in her eyes was the only answer he needed.
“Fucking hell, Vivian!” Bert let go of her with a small shove, causing her to fall against the padded back of the chair. “After everything that happened in Dublin, you still couldn’t get it into your head that what you did back then ruined you? No, clearly not, because you went and did that all over again here. What the hell were you thinking?”
At the mention of Dublin the floodgates opened and Vivian leaped to her feet. “What would it have mattered, if I was already damaged goods?” she demanded, her voice shaking with emotion and loud with anger. “What does any of it matter, if nobody ever treated me like I belonged with you?”
Bert whirled around and grabbed her again. “Ben and I love you more than anyone else in the family!” he shouted, his hands tightening around her upper arms. “Couldn’t you have thought of that? Do we mean nothing to you?” He shook her.
Vivian squirmed, her arms aching where he grasped them. “Let go of me!” she exclaimed, trying to twist. “You’re hurting me, Bert!”
“As if this isn’t hurting me!” Bert snarled. “I have spent my entire life taking the brunt of Father’s wrath for you, Vivian. Every time you ran away or staged your own little uprisings or fought with the rest of the family, I was the one taking the brunt of his anger! And this is what you do in thanks? You go off putting yourself in danger and our family’s honour at risk?”
“Honour? What honour?” Vivian tossed back. “There is none left in the Kaylock name. It died when Father took over.”
“There is no honour left because you and Jessamine trampled it into the ground!” Bert roared.
Vivian reeled back physically and pulled herself from Bert’s grasp. He had actually compared her to Jessamine, the family’s very own viper in the grass. Vivian shrank, the tears flowing freely now.
And suddenly he was the spitting image of Joseph, fiery and tempestuous and ruthless, seeming to be larger than he really was and more frightening, too. “You got so caught up in your desire to break away that you didn’t realise what this would do to the rest of us. Forget about Jessamine and Lenora and Father for a moment, Vivian. What about Ben and me? The boys and Amelia…even Grandfather! What the hell were you thinking when you decided to do this?! Do you not know that you could have brought us all down with you if you were discovered?” His voice filled the room and made Vivian’s ears ring.
Vivian sank to the floor, her head bowed. “I’m so sorry, Bert,” she said, crying. “Really, Bert, I am. I ended it all. Just ask Ben! He watched me burn the evidence!”
“And how am I supposed to trust you that there was only one copy of everything?” Bert demanded. “Suddenly I can’t seem to trust you at all, Vivian.”
Vivian crumbled entirely and sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, Bert,” Vivian cried, raking her hands through her hair.
“Did you even have the decency to disguise yourself?” Bert hissed. No, of course Vivian hadn’t. Those green eyes and red hair were her pride and crowning glory. Maybe he ought to have let Lenora cut her hair off all those years ago. Every last goddamn fiery curl.
They fell into an angry silence, broken only by Bert’s hyperventilating and Vivian’s sobs.
“I don’t want you anywhere near the boys anymore,” Bert said after a long, long moment of hard deliberation.
Vivian looked up, aghast.
“I mean it,” he said. “You’ve put them in danger, Vivian, and Amelia, too. Don’t think that just because you’ve left it behind, it’ll leave you behind…and now I can’t protect you, Vivian. Not from anything that will come back to bite you for this. You’ve brought this upon yourself.” He paused. “This is about my family. It’s not about you, even though you seem to think it’s always got to be about you.”
Unbeknownst to Bert, Stephen’s own words came out of his mouth and hit Vivian like a slap across the face. She found herself wishing Bert had slapped her instead.
Vivian felt like the floor was falling away from her but somehow she slowly got to her feet. “I know that,” she said, her voice hard. “Why do you think I stopped? Don’t you think I realised that what I was doing was wrong?”
“Then why did you ever do it in the first place?”
Vivian hung her head.
“You did it to prove something, didn’t you?” Bert continued. “God, Vivian, when the hell did you become so fucking insecure and reckless?”
She said nothing, and Bert leaned heavily against the back of a chair, deflated.
“Get out.”
The anger and hurt in his voice threatened to rain down more of his wrath if she did not comply.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she backed away, heading for the door. “I’m so sorry.” She knew it was useless, but she was trying anyway. “Bert –“
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Bert roared.
Vivian fled.
***END OF SCENE***
Ben had heard the shouting and had gone down to investigate when he realized what the shouting was about. "Fuck," he cursed, leaning his head against the wall outside the study. When Vivian finally fled, she ran the other way, not seeing him. Ben waited outside, sitting on the floor in the hall, unsure of what to do. Hours passed, Amelia came by and Ben shook his head. She left silently.
Finally, he decided he needed to walk in and so he stood up and knocked on the door. "It's Ben," he called out.
"Come in," Bert called out gruffly. He had poured himself a fresh tumbler of whiskey ages ago but he hadn't yet taken a sip. It had breathed, its aromas had unfolded, and now it just smelled like turpentine.
Bert was rooted in his chair by the fireplace, staring at the space that Vivian had occupied hours before. He hadn't moved since she'd gone.
Ben walked in, picked up Bert's untouched whiskey and downed it. Then he sat down in the spot that Bert was staring at and waited silently.
"You knew."It came out as a statement because Bert had put two and two together and realised that Ben had known for a short while now.
"The day I told you about Thomas Walker, you knew."
"I did," Ben replied. "I told her to burn her evidence."
"Yeah. She told me that. Are you sure there was only one copy?" Bert asked tersely.
"I asked her and she said yes," Ben replied calmly. "I couldn't tell if she was lying though."
"Fuck."Bert ran his hand over his face.
"I can't do this anymore, Ben," he said, his voice still ragged.
Ben nodded and then said after a long moment. "I know. This is about the boys's safety. Amelia's. The baby's." He wasn't entirely sure what Bert meant about "not being able to do this" anymore but he said what he thought was right anyway. "You don't have to, Bert. Father has disowned her. You no longer need to protect her from him."
Bert leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his forehead in his broad palm. "The day I went to her townhouse she told me she'd saved up the money from her allowance and from doing odd jobs here and there, and by selling off some of her trinkets and clothes," he told Ben. "Then when I was on my way home she hugged me and asked me if we - the three of us - would still always be family. I told her yes."
Bert paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his blue eyes shut. "I should have asked her then and there what the hell she meant by 'odd jobs,'" he lamented. "It wasn't Father I wanted to protect her from, either," he added. "It was everything else." He scoffed at his folly. "She didn't need that, either, not with the kind of life she led while we were gone."
"Bert, stop beating yourself up about it," Ben chided softly. "This isn't your fault. None of this is. Vivian made her choices and that is the truth of it."He stood up then, grabbed another tumbler and filled it as well as the other one. "You aren't her father, Bert. It's not your responsibility to be either."
He held out the clean glass to his brother.
Bert waved the glass away. If he drank, he would probably drink the house dry. He didn't want to to do that. Not again. He'd done that too many times over Vivian. "I've spent my whole life being confused over what I should be to her," he told his twin. "I know I'm not her father yet she didn't have one in ours. What was I supposed to do? Let her grow up without somebody to look up to?"
He rubbed the base of his palms into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ben," he said quietly. "I just...I never wanted to lose her. I'm confused. I'm hurting. I'm angry. If she was that...that determined to bust out of the fortress why didn't she leave with one of us instead of staying here and fucking up her life?"
"I don't know, Bert." He placed the unwanted glass on the table and drank his own. "Why do any of us do what we do? It's also not your place to tell her how to live her life," he told his brother. "You can react however you want, because that's your life. But just like she can't tell you how to react to her decisions, so too, can you not tell her what decisions to make." Ben didn't even know why he was arguing. Was it just in his nature to always play devil's advocate?
Bert sighed and leaned back in his chair, both hands gripping the arms of his chairs."I just...I can't help it, Ben. Ever since she was born I've always wanted to protect her. When she went blind I couldn't leave the side of her crib for days until Grandfather had them do the operation on her eyes." He didn't know why he was telling this to Ben. Ben had been on the other side of her crib.
Bert's thoughts trailed to what he'd seen that time that he'd knocked over the letters on Geoffrey's desk. He had told Ben the truth - he had most definitely not meant to read - but what had caught his eye was just so glaringly obvious.
Bert turned in his chair to look at his twin. You don't know, do you? It was instinctive. He hadn't meant to actually ask.
Fuck.For the first time in hours, Bertrand got up and paced the length of carpet. There was no way Ben was going to let it go now that he'd stupidly brought it up.
"She's not Father's."
Ben felt like he had been punched in the face. Not Father's? How... how was that even possible? "You better watch what your saying, Bert," he said in a low voice. "You're accusing Mother of...." adultery."What proof is there--how do you know this?"
In a tight voice Bert told him what he had seen that day when Geoff's mail had fallen off the desk."Grandfather knows, too," he said. "I asked him if it was true when I went to do my usual check up on him. He knows it's true."
Ben buried his head inside his large hands, completely in shock. So this was why his father had never cared about Vivian. It all made sense. It also made sense why Geoff cared so much for Vivian. It also made Geoffrey like his brother in a sense. "Does she know?" Ben finally asked.
"No. She doesn't. But everyone else does," Bert replied. He held up two fingers and ticked them off. "Lenora was old enough to have known. Jessamine too - if not right away, she would have found out on her own in her own time. Those two are prizewinning snoops."Bert sat down again in his chair, mimicking his brother's pose. "Our family is so fucked up."
"And no one is going to tell her?" Ben asked.
"And drive home the point she's always made about feeling like she never belonged to anyone?" Bert asked. Despite his flare-up and all his shouting at her, Bert couldn't do that to her. He'd driven her away already through his own inability to control his feelings and he didn't think throwing that in her face would do anyone any good anymore.
Ben nodded. "You're right." About Vivian and about them being fucked up.
Bert hung his head between his hands, clasped over the back of his neck.After a long moment he spoke.
"I never wanted it to end this way."
Ben finished his drink, then stood up to walk over and pat his brother on the back. "Of course not," he murmured.
Bert got to his feet and clasped his brother to him in a fraternal embrace, fighting hard against the tears. After everything that had happened since coming back from Tasmania, Bert realised that the only Kaylock left that he could truly count on to be honest and sincere with him was his brother.
Ben hugged him back equally as fiercely, knowing exactly what his brother was thinking but that did not need to be said. ***END OF SCENE***
Oh Sunday morning, Ben woke up and decided that today he should spend some quality time with his brother--just his brother. When was the last time they had done that? he wondered.He walked out of his room in search of his brother, wondering who he would run into first: Bert, Amelia or the boys. He didn't mind whichever.
"Uncle Ben!" Timmy and Carl, still in pyjamas, skittered and slid down the hallway.
"Mummy's still asleep," Tim said, "and Father's in his study."
Carl tugged at Ben's hand, his way of asking to be picked up. He trailed a stuffed, raggedy piglet from his free hand.
Laughing, Ben picked up both of his nephews. "Hey boys. Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Mrs Patterson won't feed us unless we're dressed," Timmy said frankly.Carl put his head on Ben's shoulder sadly. "Unka Ben, why is Papa sad?"
Tim frowned at his little brother and poked him on the shoulder. "That's grown-up stuff!" he exclaimed sternly, as if Ben was not there.
"Sowwie." Carl put the rear end of the piglet in his mouth and wrapped both of his arms around Ben's neck. "I'm hungwy," he said around the stuffed animal.
Ben gave Carl a squeeze and said, "I will sneak into the kitchen and grab you some food," he whispered conspiratorially. "Maybe there will be some muffins on the counter." He took at Timmy and said, "Want to keep an eye on your brother while I do?"
Timmy nodded solemnly. Carl allowed himself to be put down and began worrying at his stuffed pig as he waited with his brother for their uncle to come back from the kitchen.
Ben came back with a basket of food and placed his finger to his lips as they stuck off down into the solarium to eat. He placed them on the large chairs and put a cushion on each boy's lap as a makeshift table. He fed Carl first, giving him a glass of milk and a large banana muffin. Then he gave Timmy the same thing, only a chocolate muffin instead since Timmy wasn't too fond of bananas.
With a look of determination of his round face, Carlton peeled the thin paper off his muffin bottom and began to work on separating the top and bottom from one another. When his small chubby hands had succeeded, he dunked the bottom, bite by bite, into his milk, then started working on the top.Timmy cut his muffin in half instead and broke off random chunks. Carl gave his older brother a funny look but said nothing as he set down the gigantic muffin top to grasp his milk glass in both hands.
Bertrand strolled in a few minutes later with a grin on his face. "I was just in the kitchens asking Mrs Patterson about today's menu," he said as he came up to them, "and I was told there was a muffin burglar in the house."
Ben laughed, watching his nephews eat, already on his third one. "Nonsense, she has no idea we took them." He pointed to the basket of muffins and the jug of milk. "Help yourself."
Bertrand helped himself a carrot muffin and poured himself some milk."Is Mummy still asleep?" he asked his boys.
Timmy nodded, his mouth full.
Carlton reached out and placed his hand on Bert's knee. "We went to say good mowning and she gave us kisses, though," he assured his father solemnly.
"Should we bring her a muffin?" Timmy asked.
"No, Mummy will be fine," Bert told him. "When she's ready she'll have somebody bring up a tray. You know how she works on Sundays!"
Timmy grinned and Carl resumed eating his muffin top carefully.
Ben looked at his brother and noticed that he looked tired. He was no doubt losing much sleep over Vivian. He sighed. He hadn't gone to see her either, unsure of what to do but knowing that ultimately, his loyalties lay with Bert. "Do you boys want another?" he asked.
They shook their heads in unison. "We're full," Timmy declared for them both."Go get changed," Bert said, getting up to take their cushions and glasses. "Riding clothes today - Mr Carstairs has already been told, so don't try to trick him," he added.
Carl's face lit up. "Is Unka Thomas coming to ride with us?" he asked hopefully.
Bert forced his face to remain impassive. "No. He's back on duty now so we won't see him for a while."
The boys ran off after hugging their dad and uncle, and Bert sat back down with a sigh.
With the recent exposition of Joeri's true identity and the story of how he'd ended up being Thomas Walker, Bert wanted to help the lad go about clearing his name. For his sake, and for Vivian's. And that meant seeking a legal opinion. Luckily, he had a good one right in front of him.
He just had to go about asking for counsel in a way that did not divulge the information Joeri had given to him in in utter confidence.
"There's something I wanted to ask your advice for, actually," Bert continued. "Something of a legal nature. Could we talk about it back at the Mansion?"