When the Seabird met the Dove

A Chapter by Ceara

Christine meets Marius, a beautiful boy who's mysteriously injured. He begs her to help hide him until he can recover--in exchange, he'll help her deal with a particularly troublesome suitor. But...

If you think being stuck inside on a rainy day is boring, try being stuck inside on a rainy day with a man a good ten years older than you--AT THE LEAST--in a sweltering greenhouse with nothing but tea and dry little cakes, while said companion flutters on and on about you in the creepiest manner.

Really, I'm trying to be polite. But it's quite difficult with this....gentleman seated beside me, trying to take my hand. He's trying to be charming, and to be honest, he's not the worst man I've ever spent time with. I've had a few that I've wasted good tea on....accidentally, of course! I'm a sophisticated, well-bred young lady--I would never DREAM of purposely dumping my cup of Earl Grey on someone's head. Perish the thought.

Mother told me this particular man is lonely. He's never been the best looking gentleman, but she assures me that he's always been a sweetheart, and very kind to any lady he courts. She even brings that up again before I meet him; he's a generous, wealthy, lonely man.

However, he's also old enough to be my father. No matter how sweet he is, it still makes me wince if I think about it.

"Christine, my dear? Are you feeling alright? You're crumbling up your cake between your fingers." The gentleman--what was his name again; Cedric? Ceder?--asks me. He looks a little concerned. Maybe he realizes how uncomfortable I am, or maybe he thinks I just dislike scones. I'd be happy to let him continue to wonder, but I can't bring myself to be rude to this man. Unlike the young man from earlier, who I was very happy to "accidentally" scald with my tea after he so rudely placed his hand on my thigh.

"I'm just fine! I didn't even realize I was doing that. I'm so sorry." I apologize, trying to be as sincere as I can be. He seems a little more relieved when I say that, and reaches to pour me another cup.

His kindness is just a little too much. He's a nice man, but the reason he's being so nice to me makes my stomach twist into knots. It's all a kind of game, and he's just as much of a pawn as I am. When I think about this, smiling weakly as he talks about a trip he's taken recently, I start to feel horrible. My hands feel sweaty and clammy despite the heat, and I try to wipe them off on my dress when my companion is looking away. I attempt to sip my tea to try to settle my nerves, but the bitterness of the brew does nothing to settle my churning stomach.

This man is nice. He's already noticed that I look unwell, and offers me his handkerchief. He's really kind, and gentle, and mother really likes him. She looked so pleased when we'd sat down together, like she'd just sealed a wonderfully pleasant deal, like she'd already won the game. That thought makes the world spin, and suddenly, the greenhouse is much too warm to be in any longer.

"I-I'm sorry, I need some air!" I stagger away from the table, blinding racing towards the exit. The tea and cake doesn't feel like it wants to stay any longer, much to my horror.

I lean against the wall, feeling the cool sensation of the stone on my cheek. The sound of the rain muffles everything else, creating an eerie blanket of quiet. All I can hear is the sound of the rainfall gently pattering on the glass and trees, and my own breathing. It sounds strangely erratic and strong compared to the soft patterns of water falling above my head. It's a little calming.

As I try to calm down, the sour taste in my mouth reminds me of why I'm currently here, cramped under an awning, next to some bushes that I hope the rain will wash off, because I'm pretty sure the color and smell they are right now is not a good look for them. I feel a little sorry for the garden workers now, if it doesn't.

I try to edge away from the messy plants, while also staying under the protection of the awning. I could have picked a better place to hide, I think...but them again, I'm not sure my stomach would have let me.

I let out a sigh that is all but swallowed up by the rain. Hiding isn't exactly the word for it...but it was close enough. I already knew that I wasn't going back in there. Or to anymore more appointments today. I'm sure that my mother is trying to comfort that man, and smooth things over, but I can't bring myself to care. I mean, I'm a little sorry for hurting his feelings. He was nice. But I'm not going to marry a man just because I pity him!

I find myself fiddling with the hem of my dress, which has a small layer of mud now. I dig at it, flicking flecks off while my mind's wheels turn. These "appointments" and "meetings" were become far too common now for me not to get what my parents were hinting at. They were being about a subtle as the full moon was in the dark night sky.

It's not like I don't want to get married someday. I think wanly. But that's someday. Someday isn't tomorrow, or next week, or maybe not even this year.

Besides that, what is up with the suitors they keep choose for me?! Old men, pervy young guys, and a mix of the two...did they just lose their minds, or do they just not care who I marry, as long as I do?

...I know that's not true, but it does feel like it. I'm starting to feel like a prize ewe at a show. Soon they'll start opening my mouth to see if I have all my teeth.

I stand up, determined to get away from this whole suitor business, at least for the rest of today. It's obviously not doing me or them a lick of good. Just ask the bushes. As I start to leave, plotting where I can hide for the rest of the afternoon, my eyes land on something moving in the copse of willows and poplar. For a second, I think It was a trick of the light, or some animal trying to run from the rain. Then I spot a figure, dressed in dark colored clothes, leaning against one the the willows, almost curled up against the twisty bark. The way they are standing is weird, all hunched up.

I think about calling out, but I stop myself before a word can get out. A lot of bad things have been happening lately to families like mine--kidnappings, robbery, and even a few murders. I'm not stupid enough to land myself in that kind of trouble. Keeping my eyes on the figure, I decide to go call for help and risk the scolding. It's just too suspicious.

Right as I turn away, the sound of squelching mud and a low thud catches my attention again, making me turn around once more. The figure is collapsed on the ground, one hand desperately reaching for the trunk of the tree it was leaning against. All at once, my mind clears, and I hurry over the the trees. More than suspicious, this person is injured! As I get closer, this becomes more and more obvious. Even in this rain, I can hear their labored, ragged breathing, and the way they keep struggling to even sit up is worrying.

They stop moving when they hear me, and I stop in my tracks, suddenly worried again. Just because they're injured doesn't mean they aren't still suspicious, or dangerous! I feel my heart pounding like a drum as I look down at them, their face hidden by the dark hair hanging over their face. In my terror, I can't even hear the rain anymore, but I still open my mouth, unsure what to say. Before I can stutter out a "hey, are you dying over here?" or something equally eloquent, the person moves, tilting their face to look up at me.

"Who...are you....?" They ask softly, so softly that it takes me a moment to notice they'd spoken. I also can't breathe for some reason, or tear my eyes off of their face.

There's a dark spot painted over a cheekbone, suggesting either a bruise or dirt in this low light. But despite that, the rest of their face is astoundingly clear, not a scar or blemish in sight to mar it. The face is slender, with a gentle and pleasant slope from the cheekbones to their chin, with the same fineness throughout. Dark hair tumbles over their shoulder,