Topic: Recounting the Past

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-09 13:26 EST

The garret rooms seemed dark and cold, even without the drapings of black cloth over favored possessions and treasured pictures. The ending of a life was never an easy transition, made worse when the life ended left behind a vulnerable young person who needed the care that was no longer present. Edith Gosforth sat across the table from young Clara Peterson, wishing the younger woman could see her sad smile.

"You have a place with us, Clara," she was saying. "Your father was a dear friend, and you are a dear friend as well. Your room is made up, waiting for you. Once you are packed, we will welcome you into our home."

Clara's unseeing eyes smiled, even if her face did not. "Thank you, Mrs. Gosforth," she said softly. "I understand you have others staying under your roof as well?"

"Yes, I have several," Edith told her. "A handful of young performers, members of the chorus and orchestra at the opera house. My own daughter, Margaret. And ..." She hesitated, but went on regardless. "And one other, whose circumstances may make him a little reticent to engage with you ..."

"I do know Margaret," Clara said, nodding slowly as she took this in. "But this other - I assume you refer to your son. Why would he not wish to engage socially with me?"

There was a very good reason for that, one that Edith was loathe to tell most people, but if Clara was to be part of their household, she needed to know ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen years ago, London ....

The traveling circus had never been more popular than it was during the Victorian age, where men and women could line up to see all kinds of oddities for a price. It was no secret that the poor souls who were featured in such shows were often mistreated, but no one seemed to care so long as they were entertaining. The poor creatures who had fallen in with the circus had often done so because it was their only means of survival. They were too different to be part of civilized society, and so they found themselves here - outcasts, sometimes even among themselves. Our story concerns one such outcast in particular and how a chance meeting came to change his life on one particularly dreary day in London.

"Come one, come all to the Menagerie of Marvels!" the carny's voice called, doing his best to draw a crowd. "See the strange, the bizarre, the beautiful, and the grotesque! Oddities of all kinds! Guaranteed to delight and disgust. Smelling salts for those of a more delicate constitution provided for a nominal fee," he added for good measure.

Pulled along by some friends, the young widow Edith Gosforth sighed as she was drawn into the crowd gathering around the carny calling for attention. She had been coaxed to come out after several months spent with her young daughter alone in their rented tenement, and had finally given in, only to be brought to an entertainment she secretly thought was disgusting.

The carny was not particularly charming himself, nor was he meant to be. He was greasy and unkempt and reeked of cheap alcohol, but that hardly mattered. He wasn't the one on display, after all. Once he had managed to gather what he deemed a large enough crowd, he pulled back a curtain to allow them entry, for a small fee, of course. Behind the curtain were amassed a variety of displays, spread out upon the ground, some in cages, some on small makeshift stages. Each one as uniquely tragic as another.

A penny to enter was a little steep, in Edith's view, but she moved along inside with her friends, a faintly pained smile on her face as they passed stages and cages of poor unfortunates forced on display and to perform for the gawking discompassion of their audience. But it was the children who made her heart ache. Most were with what she assumed were their parents, had perhaps been purposely deformed for the circus itself. It was an awful thing to see. She felt sick for having given money to the man who profited from it.

There were no more than twenty of the poor souls, some with family members, some on their own, spread out in a semi-circular fashion. Small crowds formed before each display which included such oddities as the so-called "bearded lady", "dog man", and "tattooed man", but there was one oddity in particular that concerns our story - the of the "devil-faced boy". This one never failed to draw a crowd and often caused a female or two to swoon in shock and terror, as newcomers to the menagerie would soon find out.

Pushed and jostled in the crowd, Edith found herself nudged to the front, as though everyone around them wanted her to get a good view, since she was a small woman. They were laughing and jeering, taunting the people on display, but all she saw was a skinny, malnourished young boy, his head covered with a burlap sack that had eyeholes cut into it, holding a small clockwork monkey that played the cymbals as a tinny tune rang out.

"Come, see the boy with the voice of an angel and the face of a demon!" the carny called, as he strutted around inside the cage, while the boy cowered in the corner, visibly trembling either with cold or with fear.

"Tell me, ladies and gents, would you like to hear him sing?" the carny implored the crowd. He was answered with silence for a moment as the crowd seemed to decide and then a male voice from the back shouted,

"Show us his face. That's what we paid for!"

"Ah, now, patience, my lovelies," the carny chided the crowd. "First things first."

"Can't you see he's frightened?" Edith heard herself burst out, surprised by her own daring. "Leave him alone, for pity's sake!" Beside her, one of her friends tugged on her sleeve, shushing her quickly.

Neither the carny nor the crowd seemed to notice or care about the woman's outburst, but the boy's head turned her way, dark eyes behind the sack widening in astonishment.

"First the song," the carny continued, seeming not to notice anything amiss.

He'd seen it all, after all, and dealt with unrulier crowds than this one. The coins were all that really mattered, and the boy would get his meal later, like the rest of them. It would be enough to keep him alive anyway, even if it did little to nourish. He strutted toward the corner where the boy was still cowering, brandishing a stick, with which he poked at the boy's arm.

"Sing for them, lad. Let them hear your voice," he urged, though there was no gentleness in his tone.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:36 EST

The boy only recoiled, seemingly drawing further inside himself, the music box clutched tightly in his grimy hands.

Edith couldn't tear her eyes from the boy, horrified by the way he was treated, the way all these people saw him as nothing more than an amusement for their pleasure. She wanted him to be spared whatever punishment was waiting for him if he did not obey, holding his gaze as best she could, hoping he could see the compassion in her eyes.

"Sing for me," she mouthed silently. "Not for them. For me."

Beneath the hood, the boy's eyes met hers, intelligent enough to read her lips without hearing her speak. He remained silent a moment longer, until the carny reminded him of his presence by shoving him with the toe of a worn-out boot. The boy flinched, knowing what was coming if he didn't do as he was told, but he knew it wasn't really the song they'd come to hear, so much as see the horror of his face in juxtaposition to the beauty of his voice.

"Sing if you know what's good for you," the carny whispered, leaning closer.

Edith's gazed flickered to the carny with impotent fury painted across her face, angry on the boy's behalf, angry with the crowd, angry with herself for not being able to stop this. She could feel tears pricking behind her eyes, and finally, she gave in.

"Stop this!" she demanded, pushing forward and into the cage. "This is barbaric!"

"What do you think you're doing?" the carny snarled, taking a step toward her to bodily toss her from the cage, if he must, before the boy jumped to his feet, startled by the woman's unexpected actions, purposely putting himself between the woman and the carny.

"I will sing!" he said, hoping to stop any violence that might cause the woman harm.

Despite the sudden danger she was in, Edith found herself very calm. She gently laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, as though to move herself between him and his tormentor, holding the carny's gaze with resolute purpose.

"Strike me," she dared him. "Before all these witnesses, strike an unarmed, defenseless woman who only wishes to protect a child from your cruelty. Show them what kind of man you are."

And outside the cage, the jeering was subsiding. These people were realizing that they might, indeed, see a helpless woman beaten for being compassionate, something that was pricking at their own consciences.

Meanwhile, the boy somehow managed to find his way between them again, reaching for the lady's hand with a grimy hand of his own to lead her away from the carny. "I will sing for you, but then, you must go," he told her quietly.

The carny was still snarling, but held himself back. It was a good show for the crowd, after all.

Edith looked down at the lad, at the serious eyes behind the burlap, and felt her heart clench. "You should not have to," she said softly, but conceded, a quiet decision made in the back of her mind. "Very well."

He shrugged his bare, slim shoulders, as if it was nothing. This was his life, such as it was. He cranked the handle on the music box, a soft, sweet tune playing before he sang in a soft, sweet voice like one might find in a church choir of boys near his age.

"An exile from home splendor dazzles in vain; oh give me my lowly thatched cottage again. The birds singing gaily that came at my call, and gave me the peace of mind dearer than all."

Each word was perfectly pronounced and perfectly sung, as though he had once known a better life than this.

Somewhere from the back, a man's voice shouted, "If we wanted to hear singing, we'd go to church! Show us his face!"

Edith whipped around, glaring at the crowd. The boy's voice was the most beautiful she had ever heard; who cared what he looked like" She was sure it could not be as bad as it was being made out to be.

The carny sneered at the remark from the crowd, and pointed at the cage door with his stick, clearly indicating she must leave. "Out," he demanded, in case she didn't understand.

The boy in the meantime tentatively touched her hand, his eyes still meeting hers, almost as if he was silently trying to tell her something. "It's all right. You should go."

She didn't want to go. She felt sure that something awful was going to happen to this child when the crowds were gone. But what could she do' She gently squeezed the small hand in hers, reluctantly stepping out from the cage.

As soon as she had stepped out, the carny moved to block the door and lock it this time, but before he could get there, the boy flung the music box at his head knocking him off balance and lunged for the door.

Unaware of what exactly was happening behind her, Edith was startled to find herself pulled out of the way by her friends, turning just in time to see the boy dart out through the cage door in her wake. The crowds pulled back, as though expecting this child could hurt them, setting off a hue and cry about an escaped animal.

It didn't take long before the carny was shouting, a bead of blood running down his temple where the box had struck his head. He pushed his way out of the cage, growling in rage, as he went in pursuit of the escapee, shouting all kinds of obscenities.

"Leave him alone!" Edith tried to shout, but the cacophony was too loud, the movement of the crowd pushing her further and further away. The whole place had erupted into chaos. All she could do was hope the boy got away in one piece. Perhaps she could find him later.

It wasn't the first time the boy had escaped, but he hoped it was his last. Life on the streets wasn't much better than life in the menagerie, but at least he was free and wouldn't receive a beating for his disobedience. Smaller, faster, and more resourceful than those in pursuit, he managed to disappear somehow, wriggling his way into a hole in the street that led to the catacombs beneath the city.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:36 EST

The sewer system, newly installed and very clean, lead everywhere under the city, with plenty of grates to let in the fresh night air as the hue and cry faded away. Edith, though initially reluctant to abandon the boy, knew she was of no use in the park as the carnies searched for their runaway, and indeed, that she might well be blamed for that escape when calmer heads prevailed. She had to leave, and so she did, making her way back along the streets toward the tenement block where she lived with her mother and daughter.

The boy was tempted to follow, curious who this woman was that had showed him pity - or was it compassion. She had risked her own safety to defend him, and he could not recall anyone doing that for him in a very, very long time. What would she think, though, if she were to see him again? If she were to encounter him in the dark, with a face so hideous his own mother had rejected him, would she think him a monster" It was hours before he dared emerge from the tunnels. By then, the woman had gone and all the onlookers with her. The search had been called off until morning. It wasn't curiosity that finally drove him from his hiding place so much as it was hunger. There were scraps left over from the crowd, hardly enough to feed the rats, but he'd make do with what he could find in the trash and on the ground.

By then, Edith had been home for a few hours - long enough to settle her daughter to sleep, and to discuss what had happened with her mother. The older woman knew her daughter's compassionate nature too well; it was her suggestion that now had Edith retracing her steps, daring the London streets to venture back into the park in the hope of finding the boy and offering him somewhere safe to sleep.

The London streets at night were no place for a child, much less a solitary woman, especially one who was as refined and cultured as this one. Children, like rats, might be able to scurry away and hide from the darker elements that roamed the night, but not so for a woman who did not know how to survive on the streets. As she neared the park - the tents closed and the cages locked for the night - the sound of voices could be heard on the breeze, as those who were not yet ready to sleep wiled away the night hours drinking and gambling and carousing.

Edith made sure to skirt wide around the area where the carnival had set up, but she had no idea where to start looking. She had grabbed an old coat of her husband's on the way out, ready to wrap about the boy if she found him, but where would he have gone" Surely he wouldn't have stayed so close to his tormentors.

In the end, there weren't many scraps to be found. Hardly enough to fill a hungry boy's belly. He was shivering in the cold, hungry, thirsty, tired, and alone. He wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have stayed where he was. Even gruel sounded better than scraps and crumbs. He knew he had to make a choice - either return to the menagerie and submit himself to a certain beating, or find another way. He was not so anxious to return to the cruelty of the life he'd just escaped, but what other choice did he have" For now, he just had to survive the night. The night was made for creatures like him - those who didn't want to be seen in the light of day, but what to do' Where to go' For a boy of twelve, it all seemed so very hopeless.

At last, he huddled in an alley, arms wrapped about his legs, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, doing his best to stay warm without the comfort of a blanket or clothing. Tears streamed down his face, the sack he still kept over his head muffling his sobs, as he clutched his knees and contemplated his fate.

On her second circuit of the park, that was when the quiet sound of sobbing reached Edith's ears, and despite her quiet desperation to find the boy she was looking for, she wouldn't be who she was if she didn't try to help any child she came across. She followed the sound, pausing at the entrance to the alley for just a moment before stepping into the darkness.

"Hello?" she called, her soft voice swallowed up by the gloom. "Please don't cry. Maybe I can help you."

He gasped as he heard a woman's voice calling to him in the gloom. Was it her" Could it be? What was she doing here" Had she come back for him or was it only hopeful thinking" He held his breath, afraid to reply, his tears still wet on his face, but no longer crying.

"You can't," he whispered, his voice hoarse, more to himself than to her. "No one can."

That quiet voice was enough to lead her directly to him. She crouched down, shaking out the coat to wrap it about his shoulders. "Perhaps you should let me try," she suggested gently. "I've been looking for you."

"You shouldn't be here," he told her, though he made no move to push her away, clutching the coat tighter to still his shivering. "It's not safe," he said, more concerned for her safety than his own, it seemed.

"Then come with me to where it is safe," she said, keeping her voice low as she rubbed his shoulders. "How would you like to live with me" My little girl would love to have a big brother."

He shook his head, feeling the tears coming again, wishing so hard that it could be so. "I can't," he said, his voice choked with tears.

"Yes, you can," Edith insisted, still quiet, still gentle, but a little more firmly than before. "You just have to stand up and walk with me."

He shook his head again. "You don't understand." He might have gone on to explain were it not for the laughter that broke the silence around them.

"So, there you are," the man's voice said. It was the carny from the cage who'd spent the last hours of daylight looking for him. "Well, look what we have here. How touching. It's because of you he got away!" the man said, reaching to grab Edith and drag her away from the boy.

Startled, Edith cried out in pain at the rough hand that dragged her away from the boy, staggering back until she hit the other wall of the alley. "Why can't you just leave him alone?"

"Because he's my bread and butter, missy. What's he to you?" the man replied, shoving her up against the wall and turning to face the boy who, instead of huddling in the alley, was on his feet, the coat forgotten on the ground.

"Leave her alone!" he demanded in a tone of voice that left no room for argument.

Despite the danger, despite her fear, Edith could feel her temper rising. "He's a child who deserves to be nurtured and cared for, not exploited and beaten like an animal," she snapped at the man. "He is not the monster in this situation, you are!"

"A child," the man snickered. "More monster than child. You paid to see what he looks like, eh' Well, take a good look!" he said, dragging her closer to the boy and reaching to snag the sack from his head.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:36 EST

The boy recoiled in fear for a moment as the man snatched the covering from his head, revealing a face that was ruined on one side and yet beautiful on the other, like two sides of a mask.

And Edith didn't flinch. Unlike the hundreds who had come flocking to see the boy, she didn't flinch, didn't grimace, didn't show any sign that there was anything abnormal about the handsome, ruined face revealed to her. She raised her eyes to the carny, shaking but resolute.

"I know a monster when I see one," she said stoutly. "And I am looking at one."

"Bitch, I'll show you who's the monster," the carny snarled, raising his hand to strike her when something knocked him off balance and he stumbled backwards, blood pouring down his face.

This time, Edith did flinch, expecting a blow that could kill her, but the blow never came. Instead, she felt the hand loosen on her arm, opening her eyes to see the man stumbling away. Her own hand closed on a rotten plank propped against the wall at her back, the other reaching out to the boy.

"Come here, quickly."

The boy had another rock in his hand and was glaring at the man with hate-filled eyes, practically daring him to come at them again. He had endured the man's cruelty for too long. No more.

As the carny staggered upright once again, Edith made a decision that would have shocked those who knew her. She raised the plank and swung it as hard as she could for the man's head, not caring in that moment if she killed him. She did not want this boy to live his life with the shadow of death hanging over him.

The man looked almost as shocked as the boy, as the plank hit him in the head and knocked him to the ground. The boy gasped, stumbling back and dropping the rock from his hand.

"We have to go!" he told her, reaching for her hand, his eyes wide with panic. He didn't know or care if the man was dead or alive. There were worse things than a beating, if anyone found them there.

Shaking, Edith bent to snatch up the coat from the ground, throwing it around the boy's shoulders before she took his hand. "We're going," she assured him, surprised by her own calm, and took off running, tugging him along with her as she navigated alleyways and streets, back to her own neighborhood.

He ran with her, his grimy hand clutching hers, trusting her completely now. Whether she had killed for him or not, she had defended him when no one else had. At the very least, he owed her his life and his freedom, if only for a short while.

Not only defended him, but trusted him. Edith brought the boy straight to her own home, gently hustling him inside to lock the door behind her. "My little girl is asleep," she told him, still surprised by her own calm. "My mother may still be awake. Are you hungry?"

He found himself standing inside a real house, heart racing, breathing heavy, visibly shaking, not from exertion and fear so much as shock. Was this really happening" He heard her question but dared not look at her, dared not let her see his ruined face now that he could no longer hide in the darkness. He nodded his head, careful to let her only see him in profile.

Edith watched him for a moment, noticing how careful he was not to let her see the ruined side of his face.

"Here," she said, gesturing for him to come with her into the living room, where her mother had left the gas lights dim but had obviously gone to bed rather than wait up. She went straight to her sewing box, unearthing a soft piece of linen, and with a few stitches had created a serviceable mask that she offered to him. "Is that better" You don't have to hide from me, but I understand."

He followed, still clutching that coat tightly about his shoulders, curious about his surroundings but too fearful she might see his deformity. He stopped a few feet from her, watching while she made him a makeshift mask, which seemed to be more for his comfort than hers. He took the mask from her and turned his back to fasten it about his face, making sure it covered that half of his face sufficiently before turning back.

"Better?" she asked, reaching out without fear to stroke his hair, not seeming to mind the dirt and grease. "Would you like something to eat?"

He nodded his head at both questions, the unmasked part of his face streaked with dirt and tears. He wasn't too sure if he could trust her yet, but the promise of food was too tempting to deny.

Edith smiled. "Come along, then." She lead the way into the kitchen, her smile growing again when she saw that her mother had left soup warming on the stove for them. It was the work of just a minute to fill a bowl and set it on the table in front of him, together with a hunk of bread baked that day. "Help yourself."

He looked at her a little doubtfully for a moment, as if waiting to see what she wanted in return before his hunger got the better of him and he lunged at the simple meal, clearly ravenous.

She knew he was unlikely to have table manners, and tonight was not the night to correct him. If he chose to stay, then she could start to teach him. Instead, Edith made herself a cup of tea, easing down into a seat at the table to sip slowly and calm herself down after the rather adrenaline-fueled evening.

Every now and then, he looked up as if to make sure she was still there and that she wasn't doing anything threatening. It wasn't until he'd finished, devouring the entire meal, that he regarded her more closely.

"Why?" he asked, summing up up everything he needed to know in one word.

"Why you?" she countered softly. "Or just why' The answers are a little different, but they come from the same place." She smiled gently, letting him take the time he needed to answer her if he chose to.

"Just why?" he clarified simply. He didn't need to ask why him, as a simple why implied that, as well. Despite his ragtag appearance, he had a certain bearing that said he was at least well spoken.

"Because no one deserves to be treated so cruelly," she answered simply. "My mother raised me to have compassion, to care about the people around me. Even those I don't know. I couldn't do anything for the other people at the circus, but I could do something for you. I would think less of myself if I did not."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:37 EST

"What are you going to do?" he asked. It seemed the next logical question. She seemed quite certain of herself, but he had no idea what she had planned. He didn't think she'd take him back to the circus, but what did she want with him then"

"I would like to offer you a home," she told him carefully. "A safe place to live, with a family who will care for you. My mother and I have already discussed it, and as I said, my daughter would love to have a big brother."

His eyes widened for a moment. She wanted him to stay here" To live her with her and her family' With her daughter" He shook his head.

"I can't," he told her again, lowering his head so that she wouldn't see the tears that were welling in his eyes.

She reached across the table to take his hand in hers, again not seeming to mind the grime that clung to his skin. "Why not?" she asked gently.

He did not speak, but only lifted a hand to indicate the mask that covered one half of his face. It had prevented his own mother from loving him. Why should she be any different"

"I've seen your face," she reminded him in that same gentle tone. "And I brought you home. You need love and care, and I am offering it to you. We can make better mask for you, if you would like, and you need not venture outside if you do not wish to. I won't force you to do anything. But I would very much like to be a mother to you, if you would allow it."

"You want to be my mother?" he asked, eyes wide again with wonder, shock, and doubt. "You don't even know me," he pointed out, trying to keep the tears from his voice. His own mother had found him repulsive. Why would a perfect stranger want to do what his own mother couldn't"

"I want to know you," Edith told him. "I want to help you find out who you are in a safe place. You need someone to care about you. I would like to be that person."

Again he thought to ask her why, but it seemed she had already answered that question. Could it be that she simply wanted to help him, as she'd said. "Who are you?" he asked, a little surprised to realize he had only just thought to ask.

She smiled then, encouraged that he was interested enough to ask questions. "My name is Edith Gosforth," she told him. "I used to be a dancer at the opera house, before I married my husband a few years ago. He, sadly, died shortly after our daughter was born, so now I teach music, and raise my daughter with my mother's help."

"Oh," he replied, brows furrowing as he thought on that a moment. "I'm sorry about your husband," he said, knowing enough about good manners to know it was the thing to say.

"Thank you." Her smile was a little sad, but her loss had been a few years ago. Life was her purpose now, not dwelling on the dead. "He would have done the same as I did tonight," she added. She considered him for a long moment. "Shall we take it one day at a time" Sleep here tonight, have a bath, I'll adjust some clothes to fit you. One day at a time."

He wasn't so sure about her husband. So few had lifted a hand to help him in all his twelve years of life, but it hardly mattered now. The man was dead and could neither harm nor help him. The boy seemed to consider a moment. His stomach was fuller than it had been in months, and the prospect of a bath, clean clothes, and a bed were tempting to someone who'd called a filthy cage his home for too long. "One day at a time," he echoed, as if in agreement.

"Let me heat up some water, then," she said. "Would you like some more soup while you wait' There is plenty. You need never be afraid to ask."

"Yes, please," he replied, though he didn't want to gorge himself until he made himself sick either. He curled his spindly legs beneath him as he tried to find a more comfortable position, craning his neck to peer past her into the next room. She'd said she taught music. It stood to reason she must have a piano or something similar. "Do you have a piano?" he asked, almost timidly.

"I do," she told him, ladling more soup into his bowl and cutting him a little more bread before starting to fill two enormous black kettles with water to heat on the stove. "It is a piano-forte - over there, by the window." She gestured to where the little instrument sat, with its sheafs of music notation set neatly atop it.

His gaze followed her gesture to the piano-forte, not having noticed it before. He licked his lips nervously a moment, before daring to ask another question. "May I play?" he asked, fingers eager to touch the black and white keys. "Will you teach me?" he added, his gaze traveling back to hers, an almost hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"In the morning, yes," she promised. "I will teach you whatever you wish to know, and if I do not know it, I will find people who do." It was a little late at night to start playing the piano, but her neighbors were used to the sound during the hours of daylight.

He frowned at the mention of other people. So far, he trusted her, but just barely. He wasn't so sure about other people - not even her mother or her daughter. What would their reaction be to one such as him' He shuddered involuntarily at the thought, a faraway look in his eyes, as if his thoughts had taken him somewhere else.

"One day at a time," Edith reminded him gently, quick to turn off the heat under the kettles as they began to sing. The next thing she did was pull the large tin bath in front of the small stove that heated the living room, and begin to fill it with what amounted to just a few inches of warm water - plenty to wash in. Then she pulled a screen from the wall, setting it up to shield the bath from anyone's eyes, setting towels and soap nearby.

The sound of her voice drew his attention back to her and to the warm meal on the table before him. He took another spoonful of soup, his appetite ravenous, but found he could eat no more. He studied her instead, watching as she moved about the room preparing his bath. Why did she care so much' What did she want from him' Could it be merely her kindness that had brought him here"

"I should use the bath quickly, if I were you," she suggested. "The water won't stay warm for long." She offered him another smile, moving over to a chest that seemed set out of the way. She opened it, removing what looked like a man's shirt, and took it over to the couch, turning up the gas lamp just enough to see what she was doing as she began to adjust it for him to sleep in.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:37 EST

"Yes, ma'am," he said, obediently slipping down from the chair and creeping over to the bath. He swung his gaze once more toward the woman, as if to make sure she wasn't looking, before slipping behind the screen to strip off the dirty, tattered rags that passed for his clothing.

True to the implication of her actions, Edith didn't look up as he slipped behind the screen, contentedly sewing away despite the late hour, and humming to herself as she did so. The tune was an aria from an opera she had once performed in, one of her favorites, but she didn't sing. She just hummed, filling the silence with gentle sound.

The sound of water sloshing indicated he had climbed into the tub of water and was doing his best to scrub months worth of grime from his flesh. A bath was a luxury one such as himself could not afford. "What is that?" he asked, after a moment of listening to her humming to herself. He thought he almost recognized the song, but he could not be sure.

She paused, smiling as she glanced up. "It is from an opera I once performed in," she told him. "Called La Juive. The song is a soprano aria that I am rather fond of." She let that sit for a moment before adding, "You like music?"

"The Jewess," he murmured, translating the title. He had never heard of that particular opera, but was intrigued by the melody of her song. The sound of water sloshing had stopped for a moment as he considered her question. It would take more than one bath to wash away the grime and the nightmares of the menagerie but it was a good start. "Yes, very much," he replied, the tiniest hint of an accent in his voice.

"There is always music in this apartment," she promised him. "My mother loves to sing, I love to play. My daughter is more of a dancer." She laughed a little at that. "I play more than the piano, though. I have a violin, too."

"Why do you not play professionally?" he asked, though he supposed it had something to do with having a daughter. The question was an unusual one for someone of his young years, but if nothing else, he was curious.

"Women are not accepted into orchestras," she explained quietly. "It is a man's profession, they say. A woman may only play professionally if she is truly exceptional, and I am not."

Her answer was met with momentarily silence. He frowned as he realized he should have known the answer to that question. There were different kinds of cages, after all, besides that of the menagerie. "That is not fair," he said quietly.

"No, it is not," she agreed. "But I am not prevented from making music. I enjoy it, and I enjoy teaching others to appreciate it as well." She set the shirt aside, taking up a pair of undershorts to stitch into a decent size for the boy in the tub.

"Will you teach me?" he repeated the question he had asked only a short time ago. "I want to learn it all!" he said, hungry for knowledge, not only of the world, but mostly of music.

"Of course I will," she assured him, still glad to hear that he retained some enthusiasm for the world outside his cage. "In the morning. You need to sleep, and you will sleep safe and sound here with us."

"Thank you, madame," he told her, the gratitude evident in his voice. Falling silent again as he finished scrubbing himself as clean as he could, his heart felt a little lighter knowing he was safe here, for now at least.

She smiled once again, rising from her seat to reach her arm around the screen and set down the newly-tailored nightshirt and shorts for him to put on when he was done. "I am going to tidy up in the kitchen," she told him gently. "I will not be far."

Relieved that she had left him mostly alone to tend to himself, he finished with the bath, satisfied he was as clean as he was likely to get. His skin was pink from scrubbing, but not sore. He paused a moment to listen for her and make sure she was not close before climbing back out of the tub and rubbing himself dry. The scrap of cloth she had given him for a mask lay beside the makeshift nightshirt and shorts. He frowned as he contemplated it, deciding finally that it was best to hide that which he was most ashamed of. He had no comb, and so his hair was clean but tangled, long for a boy, nearly to his shoulders. Stepping out from behind the screen, he looked to see what she was doing.

There was a comb waiting for him on the table, and Edith herself was visible, cleaning the dishes and putting things away in the kitchen. She didn't seem to expect anything of him but his own comfort, which must have been strange for the boy.

He snatched up the comb, examining it a moment, before attempting to tug it through his hair. Though he'd had the appearance of a wild child, unkempt and uncultured in the cage, now that he was clean, he seemed nothing of the sort. He was a boy - skinny, underfed, and tragically deformed - but just a boy, nonetheless.

"Would you like some help?" Edith asked from the doorway. "You do not need to be so rough with yourself." There again was that gentle smile, though she had to be weary by now. It had been a long day, for both of them.

It was, perhaps, the last thing he needed to do before submitting to sleep. What he really needed was a haircut, but that would likely have to wait until morning. There was an expression of frustration on his face, his arm flung back as if he was just about to hurl the comb across the room, frozen in motion at the sound of her voice. "Please," he replied, in a quiet voice.

She smiled at him, moving back to the couch, but this time, she set a padded footstool down in front of her, patting it in invitation. "Come here and sit down," she said. "I'll comb your hair."

"You must be tired," he told her, feeling a little foolish for asking for help with something he should be able to handle himself. He obediently made his way to her and handed her the comb before turning his back to her and sitting down on the footstool in front of her.

"It has been a very long day," she agreed, her tone light as she began to gently ease the tangles from his damp hair, careful not to tug. "You must be tired as well."

"Yes," he replied, simply enough. There was no need for lots of words when one would suffice, after all. He was quiet a moment again while she combed his hair, finding her touch oddly soothing. "You said you have a daughter and that she'd like a big brother."

"I do," she told him, drawing her fingers through his hair as she combed out those matted tangles. "Her name is Margaret, though we call her Meg. She is five years old, and she loves to dance."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:37 EST

"Five?" he echoed in surprise. The same age he'd been when he'd run away from home. Somehow, that had taken him off guard, but then, everything about this woman took him off guard. "But if I am to be her brother ..." He murmured, leaving the rest of that thought unsaid. Logic dictated that would make her his mother, albeit a foster one.

"One day at a time." She had a feeling that was going to become a recurring mantra for a while, not wanting to push him too far too fast. "When you are ready for it, it will come naturally, I am sure." She smoothed his hair down, leaning closer to kiss the dark head in front of her. "Will you tell me your name?"

The kiss surprised him more than anything else, but he did not flinch nor pull away. Thankfully, she could not see the look on his face at that moment, or she might have seen the tears welling in his eyes again. He blinked and drew a breath as if to regain composure before answering her question. It took a moment for him to remember it. For so very long, he'd simply been "The Wild Boy" or the "Boy with a Demon's Face" or other such monikers.

"Gabriel," he told her quietly, almost as if he was afraid to say it. "Gabriel du ....Just Gabriel." The way he pronounced it, the name was clearly French.

"Gabriel," she repeated, stroking his hair once again. She caught that hint of an accent, the suggestion that he knew his family name but would not say it aloud, and let it go. "If you would like it, you are Gabriel Gosforth now."

Had she not just said, "One day at a time," and now she was giving him her name, after only knowing him for a few hours" Did she really understand what she was telling him' But then, she'd made no promises. She might change her mind at any time. He turned to look up at her, eyes wide with wonder and perhaps a little doubt.

"We will see," he said, making no promises of his own.

"We will," she agreed. "Now, it is time to sleep." With gentle hands, she guided him up from where he sat. "I am afraid I do not have a bed for you tonight, but you may sleep in with me. Tomorrow, we will make something up for you."

"With you?" he asked, clearly even more astounded by this pronouncement. She did not seem to want anything more from him than to help him, but he could not be sure. "I can sleep anywhere," he told her. If he could sleep in the cage, on the streets, in the sewers, he did not think sleeping on the floor would be so terrible.

"Of course," she told him. "I am not going to make you sleep on the floor, Gabriel. You deserve to sleep warm and safe in a bed." She offered him her hand.

He realized this was the moment where he had to truly make a choice whether to trust her or not. So far, she had given him a meal, a bath, and fresh clothing. It seemed what she really wanted was to give him a home, but where was the catch' There was always a catch, wasn't there" Could he, for once in his life, give his trust without fear" Did he have any choice" It was either this or the sewers. He took her hand.

And that was the first step. There were many more steps to take after it, but that first step heralded the promise of so many more. And right from the start, there was music in his life - as much as he could wish for. Not just music, but a mother, a grandmother, and a very affectionate little sister who thought nothing of simply accepting him into her little world.

It was more than he could have ever hoped for or dreamed of. It was clear right from the start that he was gifted - taking to music and learning with exceptional ease. It came to light that not only could he speak fluent French, but he also knew some Latin, learned mostly from attending church, though hidden away in places where he wouldn't be seen. He'd picked up scraps of other languages in the menagerie, a talented ear not only for music but language. As the days passed, he grew more comfortable with his little foster family and less afraid, so long as he did not leave the house and no one asked to see his face. As for the circus, time passed and no one came looking for him, but then, no one would have thought to look for him here.

The days became weeks, became months, and even years, and he settled into their little life together with few real troubles to darken his days. Edith often wished she could entice him to come outside with them on occasion, but she never pushed him. His talent for music was outstanding, certainly, and something she worked to promote, until one day, in his fifteenth year, she came home with a bright smile for her adopted boy.

"Gabriel, darling, you are a published composer!" she declared, pulling a sheaf of printed music from her basket to show him.

Three years in that apartment with his new family were good to him. He was quickly growing into a young man - handsome but for his deformity - talented, intelligent, well-spoken, but terrified to be seen in public. It was almost as if he'd traded one cage for another, but at least, this one offered the love and affection he had always craved from a family. It was enough, for now. Today, she found him in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea, the daily newspaper spread out on the table before him.

He looked up from the paper at the sound of her voice, as he always did. Like any good son, he adored her, as evidenced by the smile on his face as he rose to greet her. "What is this?" he asked, his gaze moving to the papers she was pulling from her basket.

"This, my darling, is the aria you composed last year," she told him, kissing his cheek affectionately. "And your payment for it - three pounds!"

He blinked, dumbfounded, not only by the fact that he was being paid for his work but that she'd sold it without telling him. He wasn't sure if he should be happy, angry, or simply relieved. He knew how hard it was for her to pay the rent, and he wanted to help. After all, she had taken him in without asking for anything in return. "You sold it?" he asked, no hint of anger in his voice, only astonishment. "Who did you sell it to?"

"I showed it to a good friend, who showed it to one of his friends," she explained. "Do you remember Mr. Carter, the violinist who came by to show you how to care for your instruments" He thinks your music is beautiful, and should be shared. So he showed it to one of his friends who is a musical director at the Royal Opera House, and he bought it, with the intention to have his newest soprano sing it at the next gala evening. Mr. Carter says he will get us tickets to see it, if you would like that."

"Tickets?" he echoed, dropping into a chair, clearly stunned. What good was it to write music that couldn't be heard, and yet, to attend a performance at the Royal Opera seemed almost too good to be true. It also meant leaving the house and chancing being seen. It was a lot to think about.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:37 EST

"Or we could watch it from backstage," Edith suggested, letting him absorb this as much as he could. "I am still welcome backstage there. We would not be so likely to be seen." She would like him to attend the theater as a member of the audience, but she understood his reticence.

"I don't know," he murmured, frowning thoughtfully. He wanted to go, and he wanted to please her, but there was always that fear that someone would see him and question his appearance. Perhaps even force him to reveal himself. He seemed torn between his desire to visit the opera at long last and his fear. "Is it an evening performance?"

"Yes, the gala is an evening performance," she told him. "Usually, afterward, there is a big party, but we will not attend that." She stroked his hair fondly. "Think on it," she suggested. "You need not make a decision for a few days."

He nodded, drawing comfort from her touch, but clearly uncertain. He needed a little time to decide. At least, it was good that the performance was to take place at night. "They liked it then?" he asked, assuming that must be the case if they were willing to pay her three pounds for the score.

"They very much liked it, and they wanted to know if the composer was still composing," Edith told him. "We were careful to keep your name out of it - as you can see, it is attributed to G.G."

He took the sheaf of papers from her and leafed through them, seeing the initials he had scribbled there on the first page. That was all they needed to know right now. Giving them a name would only draw more attention. It was enough that his music was to be heard and that he was to be paid for it. "Mr. Carter will not tell them who am I" We can go to the theater without them knowing?"

"We can," she promised him. "As I said, I am always welcome there, and Mr. Carter has been promoted to the first violin. He has a right to invite his friends to the opera when he can." She smiled at him, glancing around the little apartment. "Meg went out with Mother?"

He blinked out of his thoughts, as she drew him back to the present with her question. "They went for a walk," he told her - something he could only do at night. "What will you do with the money?" he asked, the next logical question that came to mind.

"The money is yours, Gabriel," she told him. "We could put it in a bank account for you. But you are the one who earned it; you should decide what to do with it."

"No, Mama. It is yours," he told her simply. After all, she had provided for all his needs these last three years, and he knew she struggled to make ends meet. There was nothing he needed or wanted right now that money could buy.

She considered him for a moment, knowing they would likely argue if they both held their ground on this. "That is very generous, Gabriel, but I will not take all your money," she told him. "If you agree, I will take one pound, and we will put the rest somewhere safe for you to use when you feel the need."

He had fallen silent, his face going pale as his eyes fell once again upon the page, something written there catching his attention. The money didn't matter so much to him; it was not worth arguing about. It seemed it was something else that had upset him.

Seeing his expression change, Edith frowned in concern. "What is it, darling?" she asked, moving to sit beside him. "What is wrong?"

"It is her," he whispered, his finger tapping the paper where an article had been printed sharing news that the famous Amelie Du Monde was coming to London for a special performance.

Edith skimmed the article, not certain quite what had upset him. "I understand she is going to perform for one night only at the Drury Lane Theater," she said, tilting her head toward her son curiously. "Do you know her?"

Gabriel shoved the paper aside, fingers curling into a fist to stop himself from crumpling the pages in his hand. He got quickly to his feet and turned to face the window. "Yes, I know her," he confirmed, through clenched teeth.

A little startled by the strength of his reaction, nonetheless Edith rose to lay her hands on his shoulders, standing at his back as they looked out at the dirty city together. "From before?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he confirmed again, his shoulders tense beneath her hands. It took him a moment to relax enough to form his next words. "She is the woman who birthed me," he said, his voice dripping with loathing and hatred. This was some of the darkness that he kept inside him, the darkness that threatened to snuff out all the light, if he let it.

"I see." She knew very little about his origins, after all; she had never asked, and he had never been inclined to share anything. "That part of your life is over, darling. You are my son now. You have a family who loves you."

It was to his credit that he had not called the woman his mother. She may have given him birth, but she had never loved or nurtured him. He was slowly, very slowly, letting the tension go, only because of the woman who he now considered to be his mother. "She never loved me," he murmured, mostly to himself.

"Then she is a fool," Edith said quietly. "And her loss is my gain, because you are a young man any woman would be proud to call her son." She squeezed his shoulders gently, hoping to calm him a little.

He had never told her much about his past. She had seen enough to know some of it. He had never wanted to cause her more pain by sharing it, and he'd been happy. Or at least, as happy as someone like him could be, until now. Until the news of her arrival had triggered his rage and pain. "I wish she was dead," he said, through clenched teeth.

"She is dead to you," Edith told him, wrapping her arms about her son from behind. He was growing so tall now that she could set her chin on his shoulder comfortably with that embrace. "She can never affect your life again, not unless you allow her to."

He nodded, knowing she was right, and sniffled suspiciously as he blinked back angry tears. She was right, of course. The woman could do nothing to hurt him now. She had washed her hands of him years ago when she'd banished him from her life. "I know," he murmured, sniffling again.

She hugged him for a long moment. "But there is nothing wrong with grieving for what should have been, either," she added, bottling away her own anger at the woman who should have raised and loved him the way he deserved.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:38 EST

"No," he said, pushing his grief away, in place of something else. "She doesn't deserve my grief. She is nothing to me." He turned around then to face her, the woman who had taken him into her heart and home and raised him as her own. "You are the only mother I have ever known." Or loved, he added silently.

"And I love you very much," she promised him, curling her hands to his cheeks. She barely noticed the mask these days, never afraid to treat him exactly as she did Meg, his younger sister. She pulled him close, kissing his hair as she embraced him.

"As I love you," he whispered, hugging her back, grateful she'd been there to reassure him. He wasn't sure what he might have done otherwise, the rage inside him sometimes like a wild thing that only she knew how to soothe.

Edith smiled, inwardly delighted to hear him say it, though she knew it was not a sentiment that came easily to him at all. She squeezed him for a moment. "Why don't you play something for me?" she suggested. "Mother and Meg will be back soon, and they love to hear you play."

"Very well," he agreed, dashing the tears from one cheek and lifting the mask momentarily to do the same on the other side. "You will keep the money," he insisted again, for good measure, a smile on his face now. "Pay the rent." One day, he hoped to buy her a proper house where she could live without having to worry about paying rent, but that time was not yet.

She laughed, knowing she had lost that argument before it had even begun, but glad to see him smiling again. Glad to know that the shadows from his past could be swept back where they came from with just a little care from the present.

"And something for you, as well," she bargained, returning to her basket to unpack the contents of her trip to the grocers.

He shrugged, as if that hardly mattered. "When was the last time you bought something for yourself?" he countered. And he didn't mean groceries or even clothing. He moved to help her with the groceries, as he always did.

"I have everything I could possibly wish for in our own little family," she told him, gently nudging her shoulder to his as she smiled. "Perhaps we should buy something special to cook, to celebrate your achievement as a family together."

Since there was no use in suggesting they go out to dinner, her suggestion was the second best thing. "I'd like that," he told her, the smile reappearing on his face. He felt a sudden surge of pride, not only that his composition had been purchased but that he'd been able to do his part to provide for the family.

"We shall do that, then," she agreed cheerfully. She would have to go out to buy food for their dinner tonight anyway; this way, she could buy something special for all of them to enjoy. She glanced up at the sound of the door opening, and the familiar warble of Meg's chattering filled the apartment.

He had yet to go to the piano-forte or to fetch his violin, but it hardly mattered. He smiled upon hearing Meg's chattering as he put the last of the groceries away. She was like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day to him, the sister he'd never had.

Eight years old and with her golden hair bouncing in ringlets, Meg came skipping into the kitchen to throw her arms around her brother's waist and beam up at him. "Can we dance?" she asked hopefully.

Gabriel laughed at her teasing. "You know I don't take ballet," he said, teasing her back. Despite that statement, he picked her up and spun her around so that her dress flared around her. He had grown taller and stronger in the last year or so and could lift her in his arms with the barest of effort.

She squealed happily, always delighted to be the center of her big brother's attention. Like her mother and grandmother, she had never really paid much attention to the ruin of his face; he was her Gabriel, that was all that mattered. Edith smiled as she watched them, catching her mother's indulgent expression at the same time. That night-time adventure years before had been a very good idea.

"If I play, will you dance?" he asked, setting her back on her feet. If there was anyone he'd brave the world for, it was Meg. He longed to see the day she performed on stage and intended to be there to witness it. Even at only eight years old, he could see she had talent and she was a hard worker. She would go somewhere someday, he was sure of it.

"Oh, yes, please!" She skipped happily on her feet, her sunshine smile bright and warm as she scurried across the room to take off her shoes and replace them with the soft slippers her grandmother had made for her practicing.

It wasn't a very big apartment - hardly big enough for her to dance properly - but they did the best they could. He choose a lively tune to play, his fingers moving effortlessly across the keys, without the need to read the notes.

What could have been a day ruined with sadness and anger was saved with music and laughter, and the promise of celebration yet to come. That had been a good day, but there were plenty more to come. As the years advanced, his reputation grew as a sought after composer whose pieces were as rarely given as they were bought, yet was still rarely seen out and about. Rumors swirled, as rumors would, but Edith was never less than proud of her son.

But there was still something missing from his life, something she couldn't give him without his consent. He needed social interaction with people of his own age, but his need to wear that mask, to hide away, kept him from accepting invitations, afraid that others would only see the monster he had been hawked as years before. He went out, but only after dark, and though sometimes he would be away for hours at a time, she trusted in him and his common sense to keep him safe and well.

And it did ....until one night, around his seventeenth birthday, when he did not come home. He did not come home the next night, nor the next, and by that time, Edith was almost frantic with worry for him. She had searched the areas around their apartment block, the theater, the music halls, everywhere she could think of that he might be hiding away, but had found nothing. And finally, three days after leaving the house, he returned to find his mother weeping at the thought of having lost him forever.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:38 EST

Three days was a long time to be away from home, away from the place which he had come to think of as home. He knew the people who lived there, the people he cared for most in all the world probably worried for him, but it could not be helped. The last three days had changed him, made him understand just how separated he really was from the world at large and how he could never be like them. It had been a difficult three days and nights spent wandering the streets, hiding in the sewers, rifling through the trash for a few scraps of food - just as he had all those years ago before the kindness of one woman changed his life forever, but there were some things even she couldn't change. Without a mask, he would always appear hideous and repulsive to the rest of the world.

When he finally did return home, it was under cover of darkness, late so that he did not have to risk his little sister's questions or her tears. The sound of the door opening and quietly closing behind him was the only sound of his return.

Despite her tears, Edith heard the door, starting up from her chair with hope rising in her heart all over again. "Gabriel?" she asked, half-afraid that her mind was playing tricks on her.

The figure at the door froze in place, hanging his head as if in shame. He looked bedraggled, like a wet rat coming in from the rain. His hair hung loose about his face, wet and tangled, his clothing soaked through as though he'd spent too much time in the rain. The mask was still in place, covering the ruined part of his face, more important, more precious to him now than clothing.

"Yes, Mama," he replied, his voice strangely quiet, little more than a ragged whisper.

"Oh, Gabriel!" She rushed across the room, throwing her arms around him to hold him close, heedless of the water soaking his clothing. "Thank God you're home. Oh, thank God ..." She kissed his cheek, his hair, stroking her fingers over his face, checking him injuries or illness. "Are you hurt?"

He let her touch him, kiss him, assure herself that he was well, in body, if not in heart or mind. "No, I am fine," he assured her, taking her hands in his if only to stop her from touching him.

Though he appeared to be in one piece, he was clearly not fine. Something had happened, but only he knew what that was. In his heart, he felt like that twelve year old boy again, lost and alone. He understood now that the only woman who could ever truly love him was her. That had been fine for a twelve year old boy, but for one who was on the verge of manhood, it might never be enough.

"I've been so worried about you," she said, gently drawing him further into the apartment. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes, and something to eat. I'm so glad you're home!" She almost burst into tears at this last exclamation, but held herself together, more for his sake than her own.

"I'm sorry I worried you," he told her as she led him further into the apartment. It was taking everything he had to hold himself together, aching inside to know he had worried her. He had not planned on being away for so long, but things had not gone at all according to plan. His face was pale and he was shivering with cold, though he hardly seemed to notice. Or perhaps he was past noticing.

"I know," she assured him. "And I know you wouldn't have done it without good reason." As she spoke, she was helping him out of his wet coat and jacket, undoing his tie and shirt collar, needing to be busy, needing to mother him as much as he would allow her to. "Darling, what happened?"

He shrugged, as if it was nothing, though whatever had happened was clearly not nothing. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, sounding a little like the twelve year old boy he'd once been.

He didn't blame her at all for what had happened, though he had gone into his adventure a little too naive. He'd always been a romantic at heart, devouring novel after novel, not realizing until now how something he could not be blamed for could deny him what every other human being took for granted in life.

"What didn't I tell you?" Edith asked, uncertain quite what he could be asking her about. There were a lot of things she hadn't told him, after all - he was her son. Some things you just don't talk about.

"That - that I ..."

His voice broke, unable to say it, unable to put it into words. How could she not understand" While other young men his age were falling in and out of love, that was the one kind of love that would always be denied him. He dropped into a chair and put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking silently.

She wrapped a warm blanket about his shoulders, drawing him to sit down with her, one arm close around him. "That you ...?" she prompted, needing to know what it was that had kept him away for so long.

A long moment passed before he could compose himself enough to reply. When he lifted his head to her at last, his face was wet with tears, eyes full of anguish. "That I can never be like them," he whispered. "That I can never ..." He drew a deep, ragged breath. "No one will ever love me the way you loved your husband," he explained as plainly as he could.

Edith felt her heart sink, aching for her little boy and whoever had made him believe that. "Because that is not true," she told him firmly. "The woman who loves you will be more special than any other, because she will not be the type to be taken in by mere looks. You are a good man, with a good heart. Any woman who cannot see that is not worth your love."

He shook his head, unable to believe what she was telling him - not after what had happened three nights past. "No," he murmured quietly. "Life is not a fairy tale, Mama. There is no spell that will break the curse of this face. I am not like other people. I will never be like other people. I know that now."

"Oh, my darling ..." Edith could feel her heart breaking for him. Her arm tightened about his shoulders, hugging him into her side. "What happened" Please tell me."

He fell silent for a long time, his head turned away so that she could not see how he struggled to decide whether to tell her or not, but if not her, then who' He reached for his coat and pulled something out of the pocket - a ticket to a masquerade ball that was held three nights ago.

Edith took the ticket, reading it carefully for a long moment. The pieces started to fall into place for her, but she thought that perhaps he needed to tell her - to talk about it, if only so that someone else would know what had upset him so very much. "You went to the masquerade?"

He nodded, his eyes glazing over with a faraway look, as if he was seeing it all again in his mind's eye. "Oh, Mama, it was glorious," he said, in a hushed voice. "You should have seen it. The music, the costumes, the people. I have never seen such a thing before in my life."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:38 EST

She smiled, despite everything, at his wonder of the magical illusion of the evening he had been to. "A little like the theater, yes?" she asked, loosening her grip to stroke her hand over his drying hair.

"I suppose," he said. It had been a little like the theater with all the costumes and music. A grand illusion for the senses, until the illusion was shattered. He frowned as he turned to face her, her caress soothing him a little, giving him the courage to continue with his story. "There was a girl ..." he started.

"Did you dance with her?" Edith asked, deliberately keeping her voice quiet, light. She could guess where this was going, but she didn't want him to hold it all inside.

"Yes," he replied, smiling a little at the memory of that anyway. It hadn't all been bad, but it had ended badly, enough to keep him away from home for the last three days. "It was nice," he said, closing his eyes as he remembered the happier parts of his story. "She wouldn't tell me her name. She said it was a secret." It had been a masquerade ball, after all. Everyone had been in masks, and for once, he had blended right in.

"Many people go to masked balls to be someone else for an evening," she told him gently. "She might have been anyone, or rather, anyone's daughter. The actions of the family reflect on the man, after all, and most prominent men are very concerned with how they are presented to the world around them."

He frowned in confusion. He had never had to worry about that and wasn't sure he ever would. His only family - the only people who mattered - were right here. He was not the man of the house, not yet, but perhaps there would come a time when he was. "But what about Meg?" he asked. Her father had died; there was no man upon whom her actions would reflect, except him.

"Meg's reputation is her own," Edith told him. "But she will have to be careful as well. Once a woman loses her good reputation, it may never be restored, and people are less inclined to care what happens to her if she is thought to be of poor reputation. A woman's good name is sometimes all she has - another reason this girl may have wanted to pretend to be someone else."

He hadn't thought much about that before - about a man should treat a woman and how it might affect not only her reputation but her future. Is that what had happened to his mother" Is that why she'd exiled him from her life" Was it because she'd been ashamed of him or ashamed of herself or both' He considered that a moment before filing it away in his brain to think more on later. He had fallen silent again, a thoughtful expression on his face as he considered this.

"It's why I can live like this, supporting my family on my own," Edith went on. "I am a widow. That automatically confers a certain level of respect. I also have enough money that we can live within our means, which is also respectable. But if I were to walk out with a man and not marry him, I would lose that respect, and no doubt our landlord would find some reason to turn us out. Reputation is everything for a woman, darling. It is a gilded cage." She stroked his hair gently, knowing he understood that all too well.

He arched his brows, though she could only see one half of his face, a flare of unexpected jealousy that she might need or want another man in her life. Then again, he was only her son. He could never replace the first man she had loved and lost all those years ago, nor did he want to, but he could, perhaps, give her something else. He took her hands in his suddenly, his eyes bright with hope.

"I can take care of you. I will take care of you. I will not let anyone hurt you ....ever. I swear it." So long as he lived, she would never be alone or homeless. He would find a way.

If she was surprised by his vehemence, she didn't show it, simply squeezing his hands as she looked into his eyes. "I know," she told him, that confidence in his ability and inherent goodness never fading from her no matter what he might tell her. "But let me look after you as well. I will never have any fear for Meg with her brother looking out for her."

"I will look after her, too," he promised. And his mother's mother, though she was getting older and more frail with each passing day. He had not yet finished his story, he needed to ask something else. He did not have to ask if she missed her husband. That went without saying. "Do - do you want marry again?" he asked, unsure how he felt about that.

"I won't deny that I have thought about it," she admitted. "Especially when I was newly widowed. It was very hard to find a new way of life, to support my mother and my daughter. I thought back then that it would be easier to find a man who would support us all. Now, though?" She shook her head. "I have no interest in marrying again. If I were to, it would not be for love, but to secure a stable future for my children."

He seemed to bristle at something she said, his shoulders tensing momentarily. "I do not need anyone to secure my future," he said, a little defensively. He intended to make his own way in the world, one way or another.

"Darling, this is part of being a mother," she explained gently. "I worry for you, for Meg. I worry what will happen to you if anything should happen to me. Right now, I have a small nest egg you would be able to use to pay for a funeral and find somewhere else to live together, to keep paying for Meg's ballet instruction and education. But it would not last long, and I do worry."

"No!" he exclaimed, lunging to his feet. "I will not hear of this!" he said, his heart dropping into his stomach at the thought of her death, however unlikely it seemed at the moment. He paced the floor a moment before circling back around to face her. "You will not die. I will not allow it!" he demanded, though that was something neither he nor anyone else could control. His chin trembled for just a moment, his voice softening, eyes bright with tears. "I could not bear it."

"Gabriel." Her voice was stern for his outburst, but still gentle, her body rising to catch him by the shoulders and look into his eyes. "Death is a part of life," she said softly. "It is not something we can hold back. But I have no intention of dying before both my children are settled in their lives to come. Indeed, I hope to enjoy many years with you both, long after you outgrow your need for me. But I am your mother, and this worry, this planning" It is a part of loving my children."

There were those tears again, causing him to circle back around to why he'd been gone for the last three days. "It scares me, Mama," he admitted, perhaps for the first time since she'd found him. It wasn't just the inevitability of her death, but the entire question of his future. "I don't want to be alone again."

"Darling, you will never be alone again," she promised him. "You will always be my son, Meg's brother. You have a place in our family; you have friends who will always be there to lend a hand to you if you need them. And I will never stop hoping that one day you will meet a woman who deserves you."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:39 EST

Friends" he thought, doubtfully, those doubts evident in the expression on his face. What friends" They were all her friends, not his. He had no friends. None his own age anyway, and he still doubted he'd ever meet anyone who might love him in a romantic sort of way.

"I have no friends, Mama," he reminded her, dropping back into the chair and staring into the flames that were dancing in the hearth.

"Mr. Carter considers you a friend," she pointed out, letting him drop down into his seat once more. "As does James Swift, the publisher's assistant. You do not need to be of an age with someone for them to be a friend, Gabriel."

While that might be true, they hardly took the place of peers for a lonely seventeen year old boy who had never known what it was to have a friend, but he did not wish to argue the matter. He felt weary to the bone, and yet, he had still not told her all that had happened. He turned quiet again, almost sullen. "You should rest. I am sorry to have worried you."

"I will rest when you do," she told him, bending to kiss his hair. "Whatever has happened, darling, I know you will tell me when you are ready. But please, don't disappear on us again. I was frightened for you. We all were."

"Nothing happened, Mama," he told her, which was true, in a way, albeit twisted. "Nothing at all," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, his eyes fixed on the flames in the hearth.

He lifted a hand to touch his lips, where the girl had kissed him, tears sliding silently down his cheeks - one ruined and one young and handsome.

She sighed softly, hugging him once more before turning away, collecting his wet coat and jacket on her way to the kitchen. She couldn't force him to tell her what had happened, nor did she want to insist. All she could do was be here for him, in case he ever felt that he could talk about it.

"With your leave, I would like to sleep now," he said, his gaze still fixed on the flames that were slowly dying down for the night. He was weary beyond words and despite her assurances, his heart ached with loneliness.

"Of course, darling. Your bed is made up for you already." Edith watched him from the kitchen door, a worried frown on her face. She knew something had happened to dull his spirit, to age him somehow in just a few short days. She could only hope that her boy would come back to her.

He moved woodenly to his feet and turned to make his way toward his room. Small as it was, it was still his - a small sanctuary away from the cruelties of the world. "Good night, Mama. And thank you ....for everything." It was the last thing he said before closing himself away in his room for the night. He had a lot to think about.

For the next few weeks, Gabriel rarely emerged from his room, except for short periods of time for food or other necessities of life. He had turned inward, all of his energy focused on his work, rarely speaking to anyone, except to say that he was not yet finished. Not even Meg could distract him from his work, though she tried. The only sound that came from his room was that of the piano-forte, at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes he'd fall silent for hours at a time, and then the sound of frantic playing for hours after that. It was hard to tell what was going on behind that door, and since he kept it carefully locked, no one in the house was able to investigate or interfere.

Though Edith and Meg worried, it was Edith's mother who reassured them. At least he was home; he was eating; he was working. Whatever he was going through, he was expressing it in the best way he knew how. It wouldn't last forever.

Just over a month later, he emerged at last to the light of day. He looked rumpled, as though he'd been sleeping in his clothes for at least a few nights, but there was a gleam in his eyes that wasn't there before he had locked himself away in that room. He emerged from his room to join his little family, an almost shy smile on his face, a leather binder bulging with sheet music held between his hands.

"It's finished," he said, face pale and drawn, but full of pride.

His ten year old sister leapt up from the couch, scurrying over to hug her brother tightly. They hadn't actually seen each other in weeks.

"Are you better now, Gabe?" she asked, tilting big blue eyes up at him, more concerned with her brother than with the folder in his hands.

"I think so, yes," he murmured, just before all the color drained from his face and his legs gave way beneath him. Instead of clutching his sister or reaching for something to steady himself, he clutched the binder tighter, crumpling to the floor beside her.

"Oh!"

As Meg wailed on the way down, dragged onto the floor by her bigger sibling collapsing where he stood, Edith was up in moments, lurching across the room to at least cushion Gabriel's head before he hit the rug.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Meg asked, fright written all over her face.

Edith gently tested Gabriel's skin with her hand. "He hasn't been sleeping, darling," she explained, as calmly as she could. "He'll be himself again once he gets some rest."

This, while her own mother was making her slow way to the kitchen to fetch out something for the boy to drink, muttering all the way about young idiots and their obsessions in fond tones.

He didn't appear to be feverish or sick, merely exhausted after weeks of pushing himself too hard. It took a few minutes for him to come back around, blinking in confusion as his head slowly cleared. How had he come to be on the floor"

"Go and help Nanna," Edith told Meg, who - despite her obvious worry - obeyed without question, rising to skip out into the kitchen and help her grandmother put something together for Gabriel. Edith looked down at her son, raising one brow in resigned affection.

"You have certainly been pushing yourself, haven't you?" she said, stroking his hair. "Can you stand enough to get to a chair?"

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:39 EST

He looked a little disoriented for a moment as he regarded the room from his position on the floor, but his head was slowly clearing. It was a good thing she'd been so quick with the pillow, or he might have done some serious damage.

"I think so," he said again, allowing her to help him to his feet, if only long enough to get himself into a chair, the bundle of papers still clutched beneath an arm.

"That won't be happening again," she said, once she had him settled, glancing up to find Meg carefully coming back into the room with a cup of warm milk, no doubt sweetened with some of Nanna's special honey. "Here, drink this." She touched the folder, silently offering to take it from him if he would allow it.

"Yes, Mama," he agreed without argument, as she helped him get settled in a chair. He surrendered the folder to her also without argument, trading it for the glass of warm milk. "I'm sorry I've worried you," he said, looking from one to the other, his gaze lingering on Meg with a frown.

"Are you sick, Gabe?" the little girl asked uncertainly, sitting herself down next to his feet. It had been a long time for her not to have seen him properly, but her mother and grandmother had assured her he was all right, just busy.

He sipped at the milk, enjoying its soothing warmth and sweetness, as well as his family's care. He had subsisted for too long on cold meals and little rest. "No, I'm not sick, petit," he assured her with a soft with weary smile. "Just tired."

"Did you have nightmares?" Meg asked. "Nanna tells me stories when I have nightmares. Should Nanna tell you stories so you can sleep properly?"

As she spoke, Edith was quietly opening the folder to investigate just what her son had been working on all this time.

He chuckled a little at her suggestion. "No, petit," he assured her reaching out to touch her cheek. All of his nightmares were merely memories. "I was working, and ..." He darted a glance at their mother and grandmother, looking almost guilty. "I'm afraid I let myself get carried away."

"Next time you don't come out of your room for dinner, I am going to go and sit on your desk until you do," Nanna declared, easing herself down into her own armchair with a faint groan. "Don't you think I won't."

"Picking locks is among your many talents, then?" Gabriel countered, a teasing gleam in his eyes. He found the milk soothing, but it was the people surrounding him that made him feel alive.

The old woman chuckled, shaking her cane at him teasingly. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased affectionately. "I wasn't always a respectable widow, you know. I was young, once."

Meg looked stunned by this news, which made her grandmother laugh aloud.

"I would actually," Gabriel countered again, a smile on his face. The two of them seemed to enjoy verbally sparring with each other, but it was a source of affection between them and nothing more. He glanced at his mother, almost afraid to ask what she thought of his work. He knew she would tell him sooner or later, for better or worse. It had taken everything out of him to write it; he only hoped it was worth it.

Edith's lips were silently moving in a way that was familiar to all of them - she was sight reading the music in front of her, playing the melody in her mind as her eyes scanned the pages slowly.

"Well, now, maybe you should ask the right questions then," Nanna went on, content to fill the silence until her daughter was ready to pass judgment on what she was reading.

"I am not sure what the right questions are," Gabriel replied, taking another sip of his milk. He knew these women who'd taken him in cared about him, and he knew he'd made them worry, but it was warmed his lonely heart to know that they forgave him and loved him, as he loved them. "Now then, what have I missed while I was busy at work?" he asked, the question mostly aimed at Meg.

"Oh! Madame Flamberd says I am grown enough to go en pointe," she told him excitedly. "And if I keep studying, I could be part of a corps de ballet before I am twenty! Isn't that exciting?"

"That is exciting news!" he told her, smiling warmly at his little sister, his heart swelling with pride. He had never been very good at hiding his feelings, and the affection he held for his little sister was clear to see, no matter that she was not of his own blood. "You will be a prima ballerina before long!"

She giggled happily. It was no secret that Meg longed to perform on stage - not to be a star, but just to be a part of the theater world that her mother had told them both so much about over the years. Nanna might not thoroughly approve, but she didn't argue, her eyes turning to Edith as the woman looked up.

Edith's eyes were warm and admiring as she looked at Gabriel. "This is magnificent."

Gabriel's eyes were bright with pride, though he looked a little tentative and shy about the praise. "Do you really think so?" he asked, hoping she was not just saying that because she was his mother.

"I do," she promised. "It needs a little polishing on the libretto, but the music ....Gabriel, the music is beautiful." She smiled him, almost bursting with pride that he had written something that was so exceptional.

"Do you think I can sell it?" he asked the next logical question because if he couldn't, it had all been in vain. Yes, it had been cathartic, but if he wasn't paid for his work, what was the point of it"

"Oh, my goodness," she said, looking back down at the portfolio in her grasp. "Darling, if you truly wish to sell it, then we can ask Mr. Carter to look it over, and help you polish whatever needs polishing. He is good friends with the musical director at the opera house - if he believes it is as wonderful as I know it is, I feel sure the opera house will buy it."

There was a funny look on his face for a moment, as if wondering why she'd think he wouldn't want to sell it. This was what he'd been born to do, he was sure of it now, and she had helped him get there. He'd sold pieces before, but this - a full length opera - this was his destiny.

"I want to sell it. I wrote it to be performed and to be heard, Mama," he said, his voice leaving no room for doubt. But he wasn't going to let them pay him peanuts for it. He would insist on being paid fairly, even if he had to negotiate the price himself.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:39 EST

"Then we will have it printed professionally, so you can keep the manuscript and the rights to the piece, and invite Mr. Carter to look at it," she told him, reaching over to stroke his cheek. "I am so proud of you, darling. But you should not sacrifice your health for the sake of work."

He smiled, closing his eyes a moment to savor her caress. "I know," he told her quietly, opening his eyes to regard her. "It will not happen again. I promise you."

"It will not," she agreed, her tone light but also gently warning. "Because I will make sure of it. You are not the only one with a key to your room, Gabriel. I simply cannot guarantee that it will not be your Nanna who will come barging in demanding that you eat breakfast."

He took no offense at her threat, knowing it was made only because she cared for him. "Yes, Mama. I will remember," he told her, eyes bright with amusement. "Someday I will write a ballet, just for you, petit," he said, turning his attention back to Meg. And it would be light and happy, not dark and tragic like the opera he had just finished.

"But Gabe, what if I am never good enough to dance it?" Meg asked, resting her chin on his knee as she looked up at him. "What if there is a better dancer for the part that you write?"

"No, petit, you do not understand," he told her, fingers in gentle caress of her cheek. "I will write it for you," he said, his gaze meeting hers as if he could he make her understand his meaning with his eyes.

Her big blue eyes widened, surprised and delighted that he would offer something so very precious to them both. "Oh, Gabe, thank you!" She hugged his leg tightly, already looking forward to the day when she would dance to his music.

"I could write you something now, but I think we should wait," he said. At least, until she was properly trained and en pointe. "You must work hard for what you want, petit, so that no one takes it from you."

"I will," she promised. "I will work very hard, and I will be very good, because I want to be good enough to dance to your music."

Edith smiled, closing up the folder as she met her own mother's eyes. Nanna was also smiling, but there was always a little sadness there that neither father nor grandfather had lived to see this happy little family they had created.

"You will be," he assured her, because even if she wasn't, he would make sure he wrote her something that she'd be able to dance to and that would make her happy. He drained the last of the milk before it turned cold and set the empty cup on a table.

"If you will forgive me, I need to sleep," he said, feeling like he might sleep for days, now that he had purged himself of the music that had haunted his thoughts for the last month. He was unsure exactly how much time had passed, but he knew it had to have been at least a few weeks. One day had slid into another, until they'd all run together. But it was over now. The storm had lifted, and he felt like himself once again.

Meg nodded, releasing his leg to scoot over and rest her head on Nanna's lap, as Edith rose to her feet to offer her son her arm.

"You need to be tucked into bed," Edith told him fondly, the folder still tucked under one arm.

To his credit, he did not protect, letting his mother help him from the chair and lead him to the room she had designated as his five years ago. "Don't worry," he told his sister and grandmother. "I'm better now," he assured them before making his way back to his room with his mother's help.

With the door closed behind them, Edith helped him changed for bed and settled into the soft sheets, sitting on the edge of the bed to tuck him in and stroke his hair. "The masquerade, hmm?" she said softly. It wasn't an outright question, but it was open enough that he could talk to her if he wanted to.

He let her help him, knowing this was something she needed to do to assure herself that he was well. He sighed at her question as she tucked him into bed, knowing she was likely to ask. "It was inspiration only, Mama," he assured her.

The darkness inside him had threatened to devour him, but he had not let it. He had poured all his pain into his music and strangely, something beautiful had emerged - like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

"Darling, I can guess what happened that night," she assured him in turn. "You do not need to tell me. Girls your age, especially girls who go to such things, are selfish and unthinking, and I still maintain that one day you will meet a woman who does not care what they see when they look at you. I think it is very healthy that you have poured it into music. All I ask is that, if the music is one day not enough, you will talk to me."

He arched his brows at her, unafraid to let her see his face, if she so chose. Wearing the mask was not only uncomfortable but impractical at times, but he was careful never to take it off unless he was at home and in the safety of those he trusted. That had not been the case at the masquerade, as evidenced by his frown. She might have guessed some of what had happened, but probably not all of it - certainly not what it was that had kept him away from home for three days.

"It was foolish of me," he admitted with a guilty shifting of his gaze from hers. "I should not have gone."

"I disagree," she said softly. "You should have told me that was where you were going, yes. But it is an experience I would never deny you, and one I think you will be glad of, in time. You cannot spend all your life behind these doors, my darling."

"I cannot go out there, Mama!" he said, unable to hide the fear from his eyes. "They do not understand. All they see is a monster. Do you know what happened when she saw my face?" he asked, not waiting for her to answer before going on. "She screamed, Mama. She screamed in terror, as if I were something to be feared and hated. And then she fainted, and when the others came to see what had happened ..." He broke off, that darkness brewing in his eyes again, though he didn't want to lose himself to it.

She gathered his hand into both of her own. "That is one experience," she told him. "Yet we have been out, together, and no one has done more than perhaps looked a little curiously at you, have they' People will want to know a little about the composer who created the masterpiece you have written. You will need to meet with the musical director, at the very least. And I promise you, my darling, no one will call you a monster."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:40 EST

"Of course, they will," he said, convinced of it, despite the fact that neither she, nor her mother and daughter did so. And there were others - Mr. Carter, for example - but Gabriel was careful to never let anyone else see him without the mask. Not until the masquerade. "It has always been this way. My own mother - the woman who birthed me - she could not look on me with anything but fear and loathing. She hated me for that which is no fault of my own." But he did not have to tell her this; she knew it all already. Maybe he only had to say it so that it didn't eat him up inside.

"My darling, the reason this hurts so much is because you trusted a woman you did not know," she explained gently. "People who know you, people who care for you, will never see you as a monster, even when you show them your face. This girl did not know you. She told herself a story to excuse her behavior in asking you to unmask, and when you were not exactly as she imagined, she very much overreacted. That is not your fault."

"She did not ask me, Mama," he clarified, making what had happened all that much worse. He fell silent a moment, sad and confused, but there were no tears. He had cried himself dry over it already. "She - she kissed me," he told her, flushing with embarrassment.

Edith's smile was sad, understanding the shock of that. "A kiss is just a kiss," she told him sadly. "If only it meant more. But without knowledge, without true care, it is just a kiss, and nothing more."

"It made me feel things," he said, confused. Though he was on the verge of manhood, he had been somewhat sheltered and knew very little of what was expected to take place between a man and woman. What he did know, he'd learned from books and the theater and what he'd seen on the streets. It was not something one asked one's mother about. "I've seen things," he confessed, unable to meet her gaze. "Women have asked me for - for money to ..." He trailed off again, letting her fill in the blank. "But I could not. Would not."

He might have expected her to be shocked, but Edith had been in a theater chorus. She knew exactly what he was talking about. "Gabriel, if you would like to explore this, there are people I know who can help you," she told him. "In a safe way."

"Help me?" he asked, lifting his gaze to hers. He wasn't sure what she meant or how anyone could help. He felt like that lost little boy again, confused and ignorant of the ways of love.

"What you felt is a physical reaction to closeness with a woman," she explained, beginning to blush just a little. "It is very normal for a young man. Many men will pay a woman to excite such feelings in them, perhaps because they are unmarried, or because they no longer feel that way for their wives."

"But I thought ..." He trailed off again, as he tried to make sense of what she was telling him. He couldn't remember his father, and his mother had never spoken of him, and yet, he'd always believed that what took place between a man and woman was sacred. Could it be that wasn't the case, at least, not always. "Oh, I see," he murmured, looking disappointed. He had already concluded that he would never know such love as that, but he didn't want to pay for it either. He wanted what she'd had with her husband - nothing less would do.

"Sometimes the world is a very dark place," she said softly, stroking his hair as she spoke. "But there are always lights in the darkness. I am glad you came back to us, my darling. I've missed you."

She did not really need to tell him that, as he knew it all too well already. The events at the masquerade had only served to reinforce his knowledge of that darkness, but there had been light, too. If only he could find a way to be part of that world. Though he heard her words, he was a little lost in thought.

"Will you come with me?" he asked. She had promised him that no one would call him a monster, but he had seen the darker side of humanity, and he knew better. Perhaps with her there with him, they would not dare. "To see the director, I mean," he clarified.

"Of course I will," she promised him faithfully. "Wherever you need me to go, I will be there with you." She bent forward, kissing his brow affectionately. "Try to sleep, darling. I will get your manuscript printed professionally, and we can invite Mr. Carter to come and see it."

He smiled, appeased for now. He had given over his worries to her, and she had assuaged them. "Thank you, Mama," he told her, letting his eyes drift closed, surrendering himself at last to sleep. "Je t'aime," he murmured quietly.

"As I love you," she whispered to him, watching as he drifted off to sleep.

She sat there for a long time, alone with her worries, carefully sorting through them all until she knew she could present a calm face to her mother and Meg. At the very least, Gabriel knew he would never be abandoned by the family that had taken him in. It was enough for now, but would it be enough to last a lifetime" Only time would tell.

And in the meantime, there was a good deal to do. Within a few days, Edith had managed to get a professionally printed copy of Gabriel's manuscript, and their friend, Mr. Carter, was prevailed upon to look it over. His praise was always grudging but well earned, and in this case, he was so excited about the opera in his hands that he insisted upon taking it with him to his performance that night to show the musical director of the opera house, Monsieur Arnaud. A few days later, Gabriel was invited to a negotiation with both the musical director and the owners of the opera house, and with both Edith and Mr. Carter at his side, that meeting went better than anyone could have imagined. The piece was bought under exclusive rights for ten years, after which the rights would revert to Gabriel, and rehearsals were quickly being planned. He was well on his way to becoming a known and admired composer of their times.

Gabriel credited Mr. Carter and his mother for helping him secure the deal with the opera. He had only one requirement - that his name be listed in the credits simply as G. Gosforth. There was to be no Gabriel and certainly no du Monde. Even then, he'd had to be convinced it was to his benefit he give at least a partial name, rather than the simple initials "G.G." that he'd gone by before. He reluctantly agreed and opened a bank account to deposit his payment. That done, he almost immediately spoke with Mr. Carter about the possibility of buying his mother a house in a better part of town, and today was the day he was taking her to see it, at long last.

"It's a surprise, Mama," he insisted, as he helped her into the coach that would take them to their new residence.

"You are being very mysterious, Gabriel," she told him, but she was smiling as she took a seat in the hansom cab he had ordered for them. Meg was at school, and Nanna was not feeling up to the outing, so it was just the two of them. "Does this have something to do with your mysterious paperwork?"

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:40 EST

"Perhaps," he said, as he climbed inside and took a seat beside her. He had already given the address to the driver, along with a few extra coins to ensure he did not reveal the secret too soon. Is this what it felt like to play Father Christmas, he privately wondered. There was no better feeling than making his family happy, and now that he had the means to do so, he intended to spoil them every chance he had.

They were already dressed better than they had been for years; the old patched and sometimes ragged dresses and coats replaced with hard-wearing new clothes that all three of the women in his life were delighted with. But it seemed as though this was just the beginning of Gabriel's largesse. Edith smiled at him, enjoying the little charade immensely. "I thought you would be watching the rehearsal this afternoon," she admitted, still trying to pry just a little bit out of him.

"There will be plenty of rehearsals," he told her, reaching for her hand and cupping it between his own. He had always longed to repay her for her kindness, and now that he was able to do so, he intended to continue. Nothing was too good for his "Mama". His mood changed just momentarily as another thought came to mind. "Will Nanna be all right?" he asked, with obvious concern.

Edith's smile faded at his question, her other hand covering his around her fingers. "She is an old woman," she said quietly. "Her health has been bad for a few years. Life ends, darling. But we can make the time we have with her good."

His frown deepened. He didn't want to think about losing his grandmother, but he wasn't sure there was much he could do to stop it. "Do you think she'd like to see my opera?" he asked, intending to purchase box seats for the family as soon as he was able.

"I am sure nothing could keep her away," Edith assured him, knowing her mother would hold off Death himself to see her grandson's first opera performed on the stage.

He nodded his head thoughtfully as another consideration came to mind. The stairs might be difficult for his grandmother to maneuver, so perhaps floor seats would be better for now. He had been assured that as the composer, he and his family would be given prime seats on opening night. He wasn't sure how comfortable he felt with the attention. He'd rather hide in a box, but he'd withstand it for one night for his grandmother's sake. Whatever he was thinking, he had turned quiet again, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. "I know she is not my real grandmother," he started, "but I would like to make her proud."

"She is exceptionally proud of you," Edith told him. "She never stops talking about her grandchildren to her friends, and the people she meets at the market. She is constantly telling them about her clever grandson, who can play any instrument and writes beautiful music that her granddaughter dances to."

He smiled at that. He might not be able to extend her life, but as his mother had suggested, they could at least make what time she had left happy. "Not any instrument, Mama," he pointed out, a little embarrassed by her praise. But that was only because he had not yet tried to play every instrument. His favorites by far were the piano-forte and the violin, which he'd mastered, but he was eager to try more.

"We are in agreement, Nanna and I, that you will master any instrument you choose to play," Edith informed him proudly. She glanced out at the streets as they passed through. "This is the theater district," she said curiously. "Am I coming to watch a rehearsal with you?"

An almost sly smile flickered across his face. "Yes, it is, and no, you are not," he said, refusing to drop even the tiniest of hints as to their destination. It was to be a surprise, after all.

She eyed him for a moment, laughing at his insistence on holding to his secret. "Perhaps it is just as well Nanna did not come," she teased. "She would be prodding you with her cane by now."

"Oh, Nanna knows," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He'd had to tell someone, after all, and he needed to make sure the house he'd chosen would suffice.

Edith gasped exaggeratedly, laying a hand over her heart. "A conspiracy under my own roof!" she accused laughingly, shaking her head as she smiled. "No wonder she has been in such good spirits these past few days."

"She loves you and only wants what's best for you, Mama," he told her, which he knew was exactly how she felt about her own children. "You don't have to struggle anymore," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I promised I'd take care of you, remember?"

"Are you about to tell me you have somehow discovered that I am a long-lost grandchild of a lord who left us a lifetime of money and a comfortable home?" she asked, still smiling even as she squeezed his hand in return. Edith had tried so hard not to let her children know how much of a struggle the finances were, after all.

He chuckled, a rumble in his chest that was getting deeper as his voice changed. "Sadly, no. What do you think I have been doing with the money the theater paid me for my opera?" he asked, though he didn't really expect an answer, just as the carriage came to a halt. "Ah, we're here."

"Where is here?" she asked, her head turning to look out at the street where they had stopped. It seemed to be a very respectable area - not upper class by any means, but comfortable enough that there were servants visible at the house doors, taking deliveries or doing chores.

"Our new home," he told her, unable to keep the grin from his face, as he flung the door open and stepped out, reaching up to offer her a hand. The house he'd chosen - with the help of Mr. Carter and Nanna - was not the most expensive or fanciest house in London, but it was far more spacious and comfortable than the tenement apartment they'd been occupying ever since his arrival. "Surprise!"

"W-what?" Of all the things he could have said, it was obvious that Edith had not been expecting this. Her mouth hung half-open even as she allowed him to help her down onto the street, staring up at the semi-detached house in front of her. There were wide windows, two floors, even a small garden. For a woman who had never lived anywhere but in small apartments in low rent areas, it was a palace. "This ....you bought a house?"

He nodded his head enthusiastically, the grin widening at her reaction to his surprise. "Come, let me show you," he said, taking her hand to pull her along beside him as he approached the house.

Stunned, Edith was easy to tug along to the front door, passing through the short wall and fence to get there - boundaries that marked their property, something else she had never had before now. "Gabriel ....you're a house owner!"

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:40 EST

"No, Mama ..." Gabriel corrected. "You are. The house is in your name, not mine. What would I do with a house?" he added, laughing.

"My name?" Edith truly was stunned now, clinging to his hand as they walked up to the front door. "I ....I have a house" A home?" Tears were threatening - happy tears, but tears nonetheless. He couldn't possibly know how wonderful it was to have somewhere solid to care for and pass on to her children in time.

"Yes, your name!" he confirmed, laughing not because he thought her reaction funny, but because it gave him joy to see her so happy. "Come inside," he said, fitting a key into the lock and turning the handle to open the door and usher her inside.

"Oh, Gabriel ..." He had to pull her along to get her inside the house, into a well appointed hallway from which a door opened on the left into a wide drawing room that in turn could be separated from a dining area by means of sliding doors. Further down the hallway, past the stairs that rose up, was the doorway into the kitchen itself, tucked neatly at the back of the house. "It's so big," she breathed. The whole lower floor of the house was larger than any apartment she had ever lived in.

"Nearly big enough for Meg to dance in!" he said, with a grin. He heart swelled to see her so happy and to know he had been able to do this for her. It was a small thing really, but one that seemed to mean so much to her. "What did you think I would do with the money?" he asked her again. He had decided even before he'd written the opera that if he were able, this would be his first purchase.

Tearing her eyes from the drawing room, which had already been furnished with areas left clear for their own scant furniture to be put in, Edith looked over at her son in wonder. "I truly had not the faintest idea," she admitted. "Darling, this is such an enormous gift."

"I wanted to do this for you, Mama. And for Nanna and Meg, too. You deserve a house to call your own," he told her, holding her hands between his as she turned her gaze back to him. It really was the least he could do, he thought. "Is it too extravagant?" he asked, suddenly worried as he looked around again.

"No," she said, quick to reassure him. "No, not at all. With your money, you could have bought a much bigger house, but ....this is exactly the house I would have chosen, had I known." Her smile had returned as she looked around. "Thank you, darling."

His smile returned, too, relieved that she liked it. He could have taken her with him to see it, to choose one for herself, but he'd wanted to surprise her. "Come, see the bedrooms!" he said, his excitement returning as he led her toward the stairs.

"Oh, yes, there will be bedrooms!" She laughed at her own forgetfulness, lifting her skirt in one hand to move up the stairs with him and continue to explore the house.

The house wasn't extravagant by any means, but it was far more roomy and comfortable than any place either of them had ever lived before. Unless the family grew by leaps and bounds, the house should serve them well for many years.

And serve them, it did. They had space and comfort for the first time in their lives, and with Gabriel's continuing success in his work as a composer, they could even employ a servant to help with the household chores. Nanna lived comfortably for her remaining years with them, always so proud of her grandson for looking after his family. Yet in the years following her death, Edith found the house a little too quiet for her comfort during the day. With permission from her children, she began to let out the spare bedrooms to theater people - young women who did not want to sleep in the attics of the opera house, young musicians who could not find boarding closer to the theater. The main meal moved to midday, to accommodate all the rehearsals and performances, and they garnered a reputation for looking after their young charges very well indeed. The mysterious composer G. Gosforth continued to be successful and, just as his mother had told him, no one was calling him a monster for hiding his face. People assumed he carried an injury that needed to be covered, nothing more. After all, how could anyone who made such beautiful music ever be anything less than a good man"

If only they knew about the darkness that sometimes lurked inside Gabriel's heart; and yet, he did not let that darkness consume him, but channeled it into his music and sometimes into helping those less fortunate than himself, when he need arose. He had grown into a man these last years - tall and handsome, or at least, given the illusion of good looks. He was slowly making a name for himself as a composer, and yet, this did nothing to make him feel any less wary of people - especially of the kind of people who preyed on the less fortunate, as he had once been.

Oddly, there had been a decrease in crime in the city of late, but whether it was merely a coincidence or the work of a vigilante of sorts was hard to say. Criminals weren't apt to complain to the police, and the police didn't much care, so long as there were no complaints - or bodies. His family might have noticed that he'd been going out more often as of late, especially late at night, but they couldn't be sure where it was that his late night sojourns might take him. It wasn't until the police paid a visit to the house, following up on a tip, that they might wonder what he'd really been up to.

Though surprised by the visit, Edith welcomed the policeman into their home, made him tea, and sat politely as he asked her questions about the area, and whether or not she knew anything about an altercation that had taken place a few streets away the night before. Of course she didn't know anything, and she told him as such, thanking him for following up with the people who lived in the area and doing such a sterling job. Once he was gone, however, she went straight up to the attic door, knocking to let Gabriel know that she was there.

There was no sound from inside the room for a long moment, as Gabriel was standing at the window, watching while the policeman made his way from the house. It wasn't until the man could no longer be seen that he went to the door and opened it.

"I know what you're going to say," he told her, as he let her in.

"Are you reading my mind now, as well?" she asked, stepping into his attic rooms. Her sharp eyes were looking him over, searching for any sign that he might have been involved in the incident the police had come here to ask about.

At first glance, there was no obvious sign that he'd been involved in the incident. If she wanted to find any evidence, she'd have to dig deeper than that. "It isn't everyday we're visited by the police," he said, stepping back and out of her way.

"No, it isn't," Edith agreed amicably. "I was surprised you did not come down to speak with them yourself. You are usually so fastidious about not allowing me to be alone with anyone you do not know."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:40 EST

"Is there a reason I should not trust the police?" he asked, arching a brow on the unmasked side of his face. "Their job is to protect the public, isn't it?" he asked, turning his back to her and going back to fastidiously folding and putting away his clean laundry.

"Gabriel." Edith folded her hands at her waist, watching him with an understanding smile. "Why would the police come to this house in connection with an altercation several streets away?"

He frowned, grateful that his back was turned toward her. He had never lied to her before and couldn't do it without her seeing right through him. He shrugged the shoulders that were quickly becoming broad, as he smoothed the front of a starched, white shirt and placed it carefully inside a dresser drawer. "If they are looking for information, I suspect it would be necessary for them to ask questions."

"They did ask questions," she said, still watching his back thoughtfully. There was a long pause before she continued. "Someone saw a man in black run from the scene and to this road."

"Mama, everyone wears black," he pointed out, which was true, at least of most gentlemen. "What did they say of this man?" he asked, as though he was mildly curious.

"That he was tall," she said. "That one side of his face seemed paler than the other. That he was bleeding." The question went unasked, but he knew her well enough to know that this alone was enough to worry her beyond everything else. Harm to her children was the one thing that could turn Edith from mild-mannered to murderous.

The first thing that occurred to him was whether he should purchase a darker mask, so that he could blend in better at night, but he only paused in the folding of a pair of trousers before setting them in the dresser, as well. "I am perfectly well, as you can see," he said, though he did not deny it might be him.

"Gabriel." Her voice was quietly stern as she spoke now. "I know you were out that night. I know you were upset that Meg was harassed by that man as she left the opera house. Tell me you didn't go looking for him."

He sighed now, as she came to the point. He had never lied to her before and didn't want to start now, but sometimes it was better if she didn't know the truth. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, turning to face her at last. "I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to her, and I intend to keep that promise."

"I want you to tell me the truth," she said with a low sigh. "I want to know what happened. I want to know if you were hurt. I could not care less what happened to that man - it is you I care for and worry about, Gabriel. Please."

He frowned, unable to lie to her, especially when she put it that way. She had always cared about him and had rarely had reason to be angry with him. Even now, she seemed more worried than angry. "I am fine, Mama," he insisted. "It's nothing that won't heal."

At least she knew that he had not killed the man; the policeman had been very clear on that. She reached out, gently touching her son's hand. "Be careful with yourself, darling," she said softly. "I could not bear to lose you."

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I could not bear the thought of anyone hurting Meg. If anything happened to her, I could never forgive myself. Do you understand?" he asked, his expression begging forgiveness or at least understanding.

"Of course I understand," she told him. "That is why I will be walking her to and from the theater from now on. I had thought that perhaps she would be spared that sort of unpleasantness due to her youth, but I was wrong. I will be at her side in future."

Gabriel frowned a moment, as if considering something about what she'd said. "Do you want me to do it?" he asked. Troublemakers would be less likely to harass Meg if she was with him than if she was with her mother.

"If you would be comfortable to do that, then yes," Edith admitted. "She would be much safer with you. You and I could share the duty - I could walk her to the theater, and you collect her to bring her home."

"You don't think she'll mind?" he asked, not only of being seen out with him, but of being escorted, as if she was incapable of taking care of herself.

Edith smiled at him. "I think she will be delighted," she assured him. "She adores her big brother, you know."

"As I adore her," he replied, returning her smile. "You are not angry?" he asked, looking momentarily worried again.

She seemed to consider that for a moment. "If I am honest' No, I am not angry," she assured him. "I should rather have liked to have done something irreversible to that ingrate myself. But I do not want you to seek out danger, darling. You are as precious to me as Meg."

"There are so many crimes that go unnoticed in the city, Mama. So many people who get hurt, and no one cares. I was one of those people once. If it had not been for you ..." He shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid. There was no doubt in his mind that he would not have survived this long had it not been for her. Either that, or he would have become like them.

"Then learn to fight," she said, without a second thought. "Learn to box, and to fence. Learn how to defend yourself without killing your opponent. Make sure you have the skills that will keep you from coming to permanent harm."

"You are encouraging me to fight?" he asked, looking somewhat dumbfounded. He'd convinced himself she would not want him to get anywhere near a blade, but she of the dangers in the city, just as well as he did.

"I am hoping you will never need to use it, but I would rather you had that knowledge than not," she said, carefully not mentioning that she knew now he would continue to go out at night and court danger.

"What else did they say?" he asked, curious now if he was a suspect in any sort of crime, though the real crime was what was happening to the less fortunate members of society right under the noses of those who were paid to protect them.

"There are no charges, no case," she told him, smiling just a little at his curiosity. "They were simply looking for this mysterious man, because they are concerned about his injury."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:41 EST

"It's just a scratch," he said, though that wasn't entirely true. It was more like a gash, clean and straight, deep but not deep enough to need stitches.

"Have you cleaned it before you bandaged it?" she asked, trying not to coddle him, but unable to hide her concern. She wouldn't tell Meg about this, but she needed to know for her own peace of mind.

"Yes, of course," he assured her, though he would not offer to show her the wound unless she insisted. The truth was if his grandmother had still been alive, he'd probably have gone to her with it, rather than worry his mother.

"Very well." Edith nodded slowly to herself. That was all that needed to be said, it seemed; she trusted him to do what was right, and to hopefully guard himself in the process. "Do not forget that Mr. Peterson is visiting us this evening. I know you wanted to talk to him about composing for an organ."

"I remember," he said, a thoughtful look on his face as he considered something else. "Mama, you won't tell Meg, will you?" he asked, worried his younger sister might not like the lengths he'd gone to look after her.

"Of course I will not," she assured him confidently. "She does not need to know that you put yourself into harm's way to see that she is not harmed again. Just that we have discussed what happened, and we will be escorting her to and from the theater from now on."

He nodded, satisfied by her reply. As far as he knew, she had never lied to him either, and he did not think she would start now. "I have been thinking about my promise to compose a ballet for her."

"Do you have a melody in mind?" Edith asked, her smile returning with warmth to hear him talking about his work. She loved his music, no matter how tragic or sprightly, incredibly proud of him for his accomplishments.

"Yes," he replied, gesturing to a chair for her to sit, as it seemed they were not yet done conversing, before turning to find the sheet music he'd been working on for Meg.

She was quick to take that seat, her eagerness to hear what he was working on infectiously encouraging even as she forced herself to sit still.

He could have handed her the music and let her imagine it in her mind, but why do that when he could play it for her" He took his place at the piano-forte, his fingers poised above the keys for a moment before starting to play. The music started out softly, the melody light and happy - there was no darkness here.

Edith listened, utterly entranced. She had no idea how he did it, but her son could turn the essence of a person into music, and that was what she was hearing now. This was Meg in musical form, all her sunshine and sweetness and skill combined into a melody that was as engaging as it was complex.

He continued to play, the music becoming more complex, though he didn't seem to be having any trouble playing the notes, nor did he need to look at the music to know what he was doing. He played mostly from memory, changing and developing the song as he played.

As the music came to a close, Edith's reaction was instinctive, her hands rising to applaud as the beautiful representation of her daughter and his sister faded from the ear. "Oh, Gabriel, how lovely!" she exclaimed. "You've captured her so well!"

"Do you think so?" he asked uncertainly as he stopped playing and looked over at her. Even a maestro was not always certain of his own abilities and works.

"I do," she promised him. "You know I have never given you false praise, and I will not start now. This piece ....it feels like Meg. It made me smile. That is what you want from your music, to elicit emotion from the listener. I felt that, darling."

"Yes, well, Meg is light and love and laughter, isn't she?" he said, smiling at the thought of his sister. It was no secret that he adored her. "She lights my darkness," he confessed. It was no secret that there was darkness inside him. Without Meg and his family, who knows what might have become of him"

"You each give each other the nuance that you lack," Edith agreed softly, not criticising her children. She simply knew them, better than they knew themselves.

"Do we?" he asked, never having thought of it that way before. They brought out the best in him - that he knew - but could it be possible he helped bring out the best in them, too"

"You do." She smiled, reaching over to touch his hand. "Darling, you give us the same joys and worries that we give you. That is what being a family is about."

Somehow, he'd managed to become a man, but there were times when he still had the same doubts and uncertainties that he'd had when he was a boy. He shook his head, not to deny what it was she was saying, but only because he felt they had done so much more for him than he'd done for them.

"You have given me so much," he told her quietly. "You gave me a life."

"And I will be forever glad that you chose to trust me," she countered, rising from her seat to kiss his cheek, hugging him to her for a long moment.

"You are the only one who ever showed my any kindness," he whispered as he hugged her back, too big now to curl up in her bed or on her lap, but never too big for a hug or a kiss from the woman who had given him a home and a family.

She stroked his hair as he hugged her in return. "George would have been proud to call you his son," she murmured to him, knowing her long-dead husband would have adopted Gabriel without a second thought.

"How can you be so certain?" he asked, turning his head to meet her gaze. He'd never met the man who had been responsible for making him; he didn't even know his name. The woman who'd birthed him had never told him, never bothered to mention it - not that it would matter. What manner of father would want a monster for a son' It was what he'd thought all his life ....until now.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:41 EST

She met his gaze fondly. "Do you think I would have married a man with no compassion in his heart?" she asked him with affectionate challenge in her voice. "When we were first married, George would not hear of Nanna going into the workhouse or trying to live alone. He insisted on her living with us. He was always trying to help others. He would have been proud of you, I know it."

"I wish I'd met him," he said, pulling away just a little to give her some space. "Mr. Carter has been kind to me, but he's not exactly a father." He turned quiet a moment, idly tracing one of the piano keys with a finger. "But I have never felt like I was missing anything. That was because of you."

"Mr. Carter has been like a brother to me," she agreed. "But it is not the same, I know. We are a little unit, you and I and Meg. It will be hard for me to let you both go when you fall in love."

"Fall in love?" he echoed, brows shooting upwards. "Mama, I do not think this is likely to happen." Not to him anyway. Oh, he might fall in love someday. Despite everything, he was a romantic at heart, but he did not think anyone would ever fall in love with him. Not so long as they had eyes to see. Meg, on the other hand, was likely to fall in love and marry and have half a dozen children.

"I still believe it will," Edith told him, smiling gently. She didn't press the issue, though; she knew it was a delicate subject for him. "Meg, on the other hand, will not be marrying anyone until she is established as a dancer. I know that stubborn determination all too well."

"On that, we are agreed," he said, the smile returning to his face. "But you are wrong about something ....You will never lose us, Mama," he told her, sliding an arm around her shoulders to draw her close. "We will always be a family, no matter what happens." He sealed that promise with a kiss to her cheek, a rare moment of open affection.

She beamed at his display, treasuring such moments as rare as they were. "We will be a hungry family if I do not get downstairs to help Sarah with the preparations," she told him, patting his cheek affectionately. "Six o'clock, don't forget. Mr. Peterson is very eager to talk to you."

"Yes, Mama. I won't forget," he replied, like the obedient son that he was. He did not bother to tell her that he was beyond grateful that she wasn't angry with him. She had more than enough reason to be, and yet she seemed to understand why he'd done as he had. She had always understood him better than anyone, after all.

Perhaps it wasn't that she understood him so much as that she accepted him for who and what he was, who and what he chose to be. She considered herself blessed that this was who he had decided to become, when it could so easily have been so much worse.

And perhaps that acceptance was what Gabriel had needed all along. With his night-time behavior quietly accepted by his mother, the rate of crime in the theater district seemed to decrease even further, the entire area becoming safer for the young women who worked the various theaters and music halls as well as the opera house itself. By the time Meg was eighteen years old, and already a promising member of the opera's corps de ballet, she barely needed to be escorted to and from the opera house each day and night. But she never objected, and indeed, always leapt at the chance to be seen out with the brother she adored.

Knowing this, Edith and Gabriel schemed a little to make her eighteenth birthday one to remember. He finally bought the box at the opera house, and their first attendance was just part of Meg's birthday celebration.

Ever since childhood, Gabriel had shunned being out in public, but these last few years, he'd found that most people were willing to ignore the mask, assuming it was some eccentricity or simply a way of hiding some injury. He'd also found that money had a way of convincing people that he was a good upstanding citizen. A well-groomed man, impeccably dressed, wasn't usually seen as a monster, even if he was hiding a deformity. They might think differently were that deformity unveiled, but he'd found so long as he was careful, he was just as capable of moving about in society as anyone else. And tonight was no exception. He'd spared no expense, hiring a hansom cab to take them to the theater and to an expensive restaurant afterward for dinner. And if anyone stared at the man in the mask, he pretended not to notice.

Edith was in heaven all evening, delighted by Meg's eager excitement from the moment they had presented her with her first proper evening dress, to the ride in the cab to the opera house, to the box where they watched a one-night only performance. The young woman was enthralled, as much in love with watching as she was performing, clinging to her big brother's hand throughout the performance.

Those who knew the little family smiled and nodded a greeting. Those who didn't wondered who they were, curious glances following wherever they went. Who was this well-dressed, half-masked man with a woman on each arm, one young and the other not so young" As for Gabriel, he had eyes only for his sister and mother, beaming with pride and joy to be able to make his sister's birthday a special one for all of them.

Even at the interval, when before they would have had to have fought their way to the bar to get refreshment, now they were in box seats and got the best treatment. By the time the server reached their box with their drinks on a tray, that tray also contained a number of calling cards - mostly young men who wanted to meet Meg, some from old friends of Edith's who had seen them, and a couple from curious women who fancied their chances with the handsome man in the mask.

Ah, but in Gabriel's eyes, it was all an illusion. He knew very well the face that looked back at him in the mirror, and he was convinced it was not the kind of face that any pretty young woman would ever find handsome. Still, he played the part well, nodding his thanks and tucking the cards away into a suit pocket to be disposed of later. As for Meg and Edith though, he knew it was good for them to get out in public, to see and be seen. Here was something he could give them, to repay all they'd done for him.

And though the interest might have been exciting for Meg, she was more interested in spending her evening with her family, dismissing the calling cards as nothing more than a diversion during the lull.

"Oh, Gabe, it was so wonderful," she exclaimed as they left the opera house after the performance. "Wasn't it wonderful, Mama" That aria in the second act was beautiful!"

"You've heard it before, Meg," Gabriel reminded her. He'd written it, after all, but she may not have ever heard or seen it performed on stage. "But I'm glad you enjoyed it," he told her as he escorted them both from the theater. There was just the tiniest hint of a frown on his face about something, though he didn't bother to say what it was.

"Hearing you working on it and hearing your music played by an orchestra and sung by a prima donna are two very different things, as you well know," Meg teased him, hugging his arm. "You have a lovely voice, but you can't hit a high C for love nor money."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:41 EST

On Gabriel's other side, Edith laughed. "She has a point there, darling."

He chuckled at his sister's remark. It was not very likely she'd ever heard him hit that note. "That is because it was written for a soprano," he told her, which she very well knew already. "She was very good, but ..." There was that frown again. "Not quite right."

"You will find your voice one day," Edith assured him, squeezing his arm as they paused to hail one of the cabs on the road.

"What was wrong with her?" Meg asked, genuinely curious to know what it was she couldn't hear in the voice that her brother could.

He furrowed his brows, unsure if he could find the right words to explain. "It's hard to explain, but I will know it when I hear it," he told her, which wasn't much of an answer.

"I wish I knew what you were looking for," his sister mused, clambering up into the cab without much in the way of dignity. Edith caught Gabriel's eye at the ungainly motion, fighting down the urge to smile again. Meg was likely never going to stop moving around like a child when she was with her family.

He couldn't help but smirk as he caught his mother's gaze, offering her a hand to help her into the cab, since his sister didn't seem to need his help. Once they were both settled in, he climbed inside to join them. "Do you think you could find her for me then?" he teased, bumping his sister's arm.

"If you would let me try, yes!" was Meg's confident answer, wanting to help her brother find true happiness in his work, if nothing else. "I have lots of friends who sing, you know."

Edith had to speak up at this point. "Darling, music hall singers are hardly operatic."

"It is merely a matter of training," Gabriel pointed out, with a shrug of his shoulders. Yes, one needed some natural ability and talent, but after that, it was all about training.

"And not straining your voice every night in smoke-thick music halls," Edith pointed out, perhaps a little primly. If her own mother had been alive, she wouldn't have dared - Nanna had been a music hall singer once upon a time.

"It is also a matter of style," he added. "Not everyone's voice is made for opera, but anyone can be taught to sing."

Meg rolled her eyes. "All right, all right," she conceded. "So not all of my friends would be suitable. But some of them are training for opera! You should hear them sometime, Gabe. Maybe one of them is your perfect voice!"

"How would I hear them?" he asked, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Are you planning on bringing them home for a private audition or are you just scheming to find a way for me to meet your friends?" he asked, nudging his sister again.

"Would I do that?" she asked innocently, batting those big blue eyes at him while knowing perfectly well that he wouldn't believe an ounce of that innocence at all.

"Mmhm," he murmured, chuckling in amusement at his sister's scheming. "If any of your friends is seriously interested in the opera, I would happy to help them," he admitted, though it would be on his terms.

"Sophie definitely is," Meg assured him, delighted that he would give in even this little bit. "She's never going to be a soprano, though. She's got a beautiful contralto vibrato."

"There is nothing wrong with that, petit," he told her, still insisting on calling her by that nickname, despite that fact that she was no longer a child. "Bring her by, if you like, and I'll have a listen."

"Oh, I will!" Meg's enthusiasm might not have been transparent to Gabriel, but it certainly was to Edith. The sunshine child of their family desperately wanted her brother to have someone who loved him in his life who wasn't his sister or his mother, and obviously considered this the best way to make it happen.

Gabriel wasn't blind to the fact that his sister was playing matchmaker, but he thought it unlikely he'd ever become involved in a romantic relationship, no matter how much his mother and sister might hope for it. But he didn't mind helping her friend find her voice, if she was really serious about the opera.

"Where are we going for dinner?" Meg asked then, knowing better than to push her luck by singing Sophie's praises. She looked out at the dark city curiously. "I haven't been here before, have I?"

"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise," he said, happy to tease her right back. He was sure she'd be pleasantly surprised by the place he had chosen, which was more expensive than any place he'd taken them before.

"But you've given me so many surprises today," she protested laughingly. "Surely letting one of them slip wouldn't be so very awful, would it?"

He chuckled again. "We'll be there shortly. Can't you wait until then?" he asked, obviously amused by his little sister's exuberance, which was strangely addictive.

"No, it's too much fun to tease you," she countered, giggling as she hugged his arm.

Edith laughed, shaking her head at the pair of them. "You two," she mused. "Peas in a pod."

"You wouldn't have it any other way, Mama," he pointed out. It was times like this when he could almost forget that she had fostered him and not raised him from birth, but it was no longer important. He rarely thought of his real mother anymore. She had stopped being important years ago.

"I will never admit that aloud," Edith informed him teasingly. "You would have too much power over me if I did."

Meg laughed her sunny laugh. "But Mama, we adore you!" she declared, leaning over her brother to plant a loud kiss on Edith's cheek.

"You just did!" he pointed out, laughing along with Meg, as his sister noisily smooched their mother's cheek. He threw an arm around each of them, kissing first his sister's cheek and then his mother's. "I adore you both."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:41 EST

And that was their family. They might have come together in a strange way, but the bonds they had built over the years were strong and close, and remained so even to this day. But even being family didn't stop the teasing, and with all those calling cards sent hopefully to their box, it wasn't long before the teasing began.

"So will you call on ....Lady Amelia Clifford and her daughter?" Meg asked as they were seated in a private dining room in one of London's most exclusive hotels. She was reading the name off the card as she spoke, flashing her brother a winsome smile.

Gabriel winced at his sister's teasing, despite the good-natured intentions behind it. "Only if you will allow the esteemed Charles Brenton to call on you," he parried, with the slightest hint of a smirk.

"That puffed up old man?" Meg looked aghast. "You wouldn't really make that a condition, would you?"

Across the table, Edith rolled her eyes, smiling at her children’s' back and forth.

"Have you seen Lady Amelia's daughter?" Gabriel responded. "Far be it for me to judge a book by its cover, but the lady - and I use that word very loosely - has her nose so far up her ..." He trailed off, with a brief glance around the room, as if suddenly remembering where he was. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice before continuing. "Well, you know what I mean. She's positively pompous."

Meg giggled into her napkin, barely managing to murmur thanks to the waiters that brought over wine and their first course to enjoy.

Edith glanced between them. "I would much rather the pair of you married for love over convenience," she informed them. "I refuse to be polite to anyone who thinks they married down by marrying you."

"That eliminates everyone with a title before or after their name," Gabriel remarked, with a wink at his sister as he picked up his glass. "A toast. To the loveliest sister in all of London. Happy Birthday!" he said, reaching over to clink glasses.

"Happy birthday, darling!" Edith raised her glass with her son, chuckling at the pretty way Meg colored at the attention their toast garnered from some of the other diners.

"Thank you," the young woman said, almost shy for a moment. "This has been such a wonderful birthday."

Gabriel smiled at his sister's remark. "You deserve nothing less," he told her before taking a swallow of his wine. He did his best to ignore the attention that his toast had garnered, always a little uncomfortable when he was out in public.

"I, um, I might actually have some news of my own," Meg offered as they began to eat, that shyness betraying that whatever she had to say meant a great deal to her.

Gabriel arched a brow at his sister's statement, as he dipped a spoon into his lobster bisque. "Oh?" he asked, obviously curious, though he was secretly hoping whatever her news, it wasn't the kind that would take her too far from home.

Teasing her spoon through the contents of her own bowl, Meg managed to come out with, "Madame Flamberd has recommended me for the open soloist position in the ballet."

Edith's eyes went wide. "Oh, my goodness, darling! But you're so young!"

Gabriel visibly relaxed, exhaling in relief, a bright smile on his face at the news. "Meg, that's wonderful! Congratulations! Even more reason to celebrate," he said, beaming with pride and joy. "When do you start?"

She bit her lip. "It's only a recommendation, Gabe," she admitted. "The dance mistress still has to approve it, and then the owners will have to agree, but I'm hopeful."

"As you should be," Edith said stoutly. "You've worked so hard for it, darling."

"Yes, of course," he said, smiling a bit sheepishly, though he had no doubt the ballet mistress would offer her approval. He had a thought to speak to her himself, but he knew this was something Meg wanted and needed to do on her own. She wasn't yet ready for the ballet he'd been working on her, but she was getting closer.

"It isn't the senior soloist position," Meg told them, though they already knew that. "At most, it would be a minute of solo time per performance. But ....I am excited. I should so much like to be a full soloist or ballerina!"

"I'm proud of you," Gabriel praised his sister. He was sure this was just the first step in fulfilling her dream of becoming a prima ballerina. "Mama is right. You deserve this. You've worked very hard for this."

"Some of the other girls say I'm no fun to be around," Meg admitted quietly. "Because I don't go out with men after performances."

"Being no fun is far better than being ruined by stray comments," Edith told her.

Or ruined by other things, Gabriel thought to himself. He did not want to judge other people about how they lived their lives, but his sister's reputation was important, not only to her, but to the whole family.

"Some things are more important than having fun," he murmured, before taking another swallow of his wine. No one had ever dared accuse him of not being much fun, but then, it wasn't fun that had made him what he was, but hard work. "We are having fun tonight, aren't we?" he was quick to add.

"There will be time to have fun," Edith promised her daughter, dabbing her lips dry as she set aside her spoon. "I managed it, after all." She cast Meg a sly smile. "Plenty of time to have fun." Meg smiled, looking over at her brother affectionately. "I am having a lot of fun tonight."

He smiled back at her, though he secretly wondered if she'd be having more fun if she were with a suitor, rather than her family. He knew he was a little selfish where his sister was concerned, but he didn't want to see her get hurt. "I have another surprise for you, but not until after dinner."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:42 EST

"There's more?" Meg looked astounded by this, only just remembering to lean back as the waiters whisked away empty plates to replace them with main courses. "Gabe, you're spoiling me!"

"Why shouldn't I spoil you? You're my sister," he told her, though that was hardly a reason. The truth was he adored her and always had. She had taken to him right from the first, despite his appearance. What wasn't there to love about her"

She rolled her eyes laughingly, leaning over to hug him and kiss his cheek. "You are the best big brother in the world, and I will fight anyone who says otherwise."

He chuckled. "I am your only big brother. There is no one to say otherwise," he pointed out, with a wink at their mother. He knew she enjoyed watching them together, happy they had taken so well to each other.

"I didn't say you were my favorite brother, I said you were the best," Meg pointed out impishly. "You can't argue with me, it's my birthday."

Edith laughed. "She's got you there, Gabriel."

"I can, but I won't," he said, smirking in amusement. It was her day, after all, and he enjoyed spoiling her, but he couldn't help teasing her a little.

Meg giggled. "You know I have ammunition if you tease me too much," she warned him in a playful tone. They knew almost everything about each other, each the other's best friend.

"What are you going to do' Throw your dinner at me?" he asked, taking her literally regarding ammunition. He wasn't afraid of what she might say, knowing it was all in good fun. He knew she was too kind and too good to tease him about anything that might hurt his feelings.

"I could make you dance with me," she threatened sweetly.

Edith shook her head, still smiling as she sipped her wine. It was rare that they went out to dinner, but that was where the specialness ended. This was what her children were like at every meal, and she delighted in it.

"Make me?" Gabriel said, chuckling again. "What makes you think you'd have to make me?" he asked, practically daring her. His surprise actually had something to do with dancing, but he wasn't about to spoil it for her, even if she had half-guessed.

At this, her entire face lit up, electric with suddenly joyous excitement. "Are we going dancing"!" That last word was practically a squeal, her whole body vibrating at the thought of going out to dance with her brother, being able to show him off and keep him all to herself all night.

"Shh," he murmured, reaching over to press a finger to her lips. "You'll spoil the surprise!" he teased, though there wasn't much point in keeping it secret now that she'd guessed. It was a rare evening indeed for him to not only agree to an outing but plan one.

"We are, we're going dancing!" Meg surged up out of her seat, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. "Oh, thank you, thank you!"

He was a little too old to blush, and yet he felt his face warming at the open display of affection from his little sister, turning heads their way once again. He supposed he was going to have to get used to it, at least until the evening was over. He didn't really mind her affection though; in fact, he was rather fond of it. "It's your birthday," he said, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if it was nothing.

"You are spoiling me," she told him in turn, easing back into her seat with a slightly apologetic look for drawing attention to them again.

"Every young woman deserves to be spoiled on her eighteenth birthday," Edith intoned playfully.

"Exactly," Gabriel readily agreed. "And no one deserves it more than you." He picked up his fork and knife, the smile returning to his face. "Shall we?" he asked, regarding their dinner.

"Oh, yes!" Giggling at her forgetfulness, Meg fell to eating with enthusiasm. It was going to be an unusually late night for all of them, but it was worth a little tiredness tomorrow to spoil the birthday girl today.

It wasn't the kind of meal the little family were normally accustomed to, but then, this wasn't a normal night. Gabriel had spared no expense to make his sister's birthday a special one, just as he'd spared no expense in providing for them these last few years. These were the people he loved most in all the world, and it was the least he could do.

And with Meg at her bubbliest, there was no way he could avoiding actually enjoying himself as well. Despite the fact that they were in public, Meg had a way of making both her brother and mother forget that others could see them, coaxing them into enjoying themselves as much as she was. Even in the dance hall, even with Edith's stern instruction that Meg was not to dance a waltz with anyone but Gabriel, it was easy to forget the others around them when she was shining so brightly.

It was his mother who'd taught him to dance, and though he hadn't had the opportunity to do so in public since that fateful night at the masquerade, it was clear to everyone who watched that both Meg and Gabriel knew their way about a dance floor. He could feel eyes on them as they waltzed their way across the floor, but he did his best to ignore the prying eyes and the whispered questions.

"You really are the prettiest girl in London," he told her as he spun her about the floor.

"You haven't met every girl in London," she countered, though her smile was wide, genuinely pleased by the compliment as they traversed the floor to the elegant music being played. "Have you?"

"I don't have to," he assured her, confident in the truth of his praise. As a matter of fact, he'd met very few, and most of them were either friends of Meg's or worked at the theater. "I am not only speaking of the way you look, Meg. There are plenty of people who are pleasant to look at but who hide their ugliness inside them."

"And yet you don't hold yourself to the same standard," she pointed out fondly. "You are the handsomest, best man I know, and every time I tell you, you deny it."

"You are biased, petit," he told her. "You see me with your heart, not with your eyes." He really was going to have to find another pet name for her now she had grown into a young lady.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:42 EST

"The same is true for how you see me," she said with a gentle smile, spinning out under his arm to float gracefully back into position. "I would rather see the world with my heart than with my eyes. Eyes can deceive."

"Ah, but I know you, and I know you are pure of heart," he said. In his eyes, that made all the difference. Yes, she was beautiful to look at, but it was her inner beauty that really shined through. He did not argue about her final comment though. "What do you think would happen were I to take off the mask here in the dance hall?" he asked, though he had no intention of doing so.

"I think a lot of puffed up idiots would announce opinions on someone they know nothing about," she said stoutly. "Because they don't know you. And frankly, people who judge others on their appearance are not worth your time nor worry."

"Sadly, it is the way of the world, petit," he told her with a heavy sigh. This wasn't the first time they were having this conversation. It was an old topic of debate between them. "But let us not talk of such things tonight. Tonight is your night, and I only want to make you happy."

"I am always happy when I am with you and Mama," Meg insisted to him, glancing over at the table where they had left Edith gossiping with other mothers over tea. "Do you think she is happy, Gabe?"

Gabriel glanced at their mother, a thoughtful expression on his face as he considered her question. "I think so, most of the time. She is happy when she is with us, but I think she gets lonely when we are not there. That is why she has started taking in boarders."

"I think Mr. Carter is sweet on Mama," she said then, turning her eyes back to her brother. "They've been friends for such a long time. He has always been there for us."

"I think he is, too," Gabriel agreed. "But I am not sure they will ever get married," he added with a small frown. He had attempted to bring the subject up several times with his mother, but she had always managed to change the subject. He wondered if he should be talking to Mr. Carter instead.

"I don't think Mama has ever truly said goodbye to Papa," Meg admitted sagely. "She will never let herself love anyone else the way she loved him. It's so romantic, but it's so sad, too."

"I am sorry I never met him," he told her. He'd heard so much about the man, mostly from their mother, though he had no idea whether he'd been so well accepted into the family had he lived.

"I barely remember him," his little sister mused. "I was so little when he died. I mainly just remember big gentle hands that would tuck me into bed, and these beautiful soft blue eyes. That's all."

He had seen a photograph of the man, but a photograph alone could not tell him what the man had been like. For that, he'd had to rely on what his mother had told him. "At least, you have that memory. I have none of my father," he said, almost regretted having said it, as soon as it was out of his mouth.

"You have us," she offered softly, not knowing what else she could say. She knew a very little about what had happened to bring him to their family, but she was very proud of him.

Despite the mention of his father, he smiled at his sister's reminder, as if he needed any reminding. "I am the luckiest man in the world to have such a family," he told her, whirling her about one last time before the song came to an end.

"I think we're the lucky ones," she said with a beaming smile, hugging him close for a brief moment before stepping back to applaud the musicians with the other dancers.

He did the same, applauding politely, before glancing back over at their mother, another thought coming to mind. "Do you think she would dance with me once?" he asked, as much as he'd promised the evening to Meg.

"You'll never know until you ask," his sister told him, looping her arm through his to make their way back to the table where their mother sat. Edith was smiling proudly at them, flushed with pleasure at the many compliments she had received about her handsome children.

"Would you mind very much if I ask her?" he whispered back at his sister, needing her permission before he did so, as it would leave her alone at the table for a short while.

"Of course not," Meg whispered back. "I need to sit for a dance, anyway. I need a drink!" She giggled at their soft scheming, not at all averse to seeing her mother dance. It had been a very long time since Edith had danced for pleasure at all, much less with someone.

"It will not take long," he promised, reluctant to leave her alone, but there was only one of him and two of them. Perhaps he should have invited Mr. Carter along, but he'd hadn't thought of it, until now.

As luck would have it, several other young ladies were also choosing to take the next dance to rest their feet, meaning Meg would have plenty of company that Gabriel and Edith could feel she was safe with. She was a sensible girl; she had not danced with anyone tonight whom she did not already have at least a passing acquaintance.

Gabriel escorted his sister back to their table before turning to their mother, a little reluctant to interrupt her and her friends. He cleared his throat to get her attention before extending a hand. "Mother, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" he asked her, like a perfect gentleman.

Edith looked up, a surprised smile brightening her face as she found herself propositioned for a dance by her own son. With a quick glance to make sure Meg was content to sit this one out, she laid her own gloved hand in his. "I would be delighted."

He smiled brightly as he took her hand in his and drew her to her feet. Unlike his mother and sister, he had very few friends here or anywhere. Colleagues, yes, but there were few he let get close enough to call friends. And there were none he had ever dared court. It spoke volumes that the only women he dared dance with or showed any interest in tonight were his mother and sister. He knew people probably found it odd, but he no longer cared what other people thought, so long as he had his family's approval. He tucked her arm into his as he led her out onto the floor. "I am taking you away from your friends."

"Darling, they are not my friends," she corrected him, walking at his side proudly as they joined the other couples. "They are women whom I know a little, who also happen to have daughters here. And they are all very interested in you."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:42 EST

Instead of smiling, Gabriel frowned, more dismayed than surprised at his mother's revelation. "The mothers or their daughters?" he asked, looking for clarification.

"The mothers, for now," she assured him. "They are all on the lookout for suitable matches for their girls. I did not tell them anything," she added reassuringly. "It is your life to do with as you please."

"I am sure their daughters might think differently," he pointed out. Though he didn't want to argue about it, he had a feeling mothers wanted different things for their daughters than the daughters themselves. They were more interested in providing their daughters with a stable future, with daughters were more interested in romance.

"Darling, unless you show interest yourself, it is just harmless posturing," she reminded him, though she wished he would show a little interest. Some of the girls might be sensible enough to know that a marred face was not the end of all their dreams, after all.

"But is it really me they are interested in or my pocketbook?" he countered, knowing if he were penniless, they would not be having this conversation at all.

"A sensible woman thinks of her future when she is looking for a husband," Edith pointed out to him. "A good mother teaches her that. But a good mother also points out that, without at least the promise of friendship with her chosen, that future is likely to be bleak and unhappy, no matter how much money she secures."

"We both know that is highly unlikely, where I am concerned," he said, convinced there was no one who would ever look on him in such a way - at least, not once they knew the extent of his disfiguration. With one hand at her waist and the other clasping her hand, he led her easily about the dance floor, as though he had been born to it.

She had taught him to dance, had been a dancer herself, and together they moved very gracefully among the throng of couples. "Unlikely, yes," she agreed. "Impossible, no."

"Nothing is impossible," he readily agreed. It had been unlikely he'd have been found and taken in by a woman as generous and loving as his mother, and yet, it had happened. "Everything I am is because of you."

"I did not give you your talent, darling," Edith said, insisting that he claim that, at least, for himself. "All I did was give you a safe home, and a loving family. The rest is you."

"Talent hardly matters. I would not have survived if it had not been for you," he told her. He was convinced that was true. He had not had many prospects for a bright future, until she had found him in the menagerie, whether by chance or by fate.

"My only regret is that I could not help those others as I helped you," she said gently. "But I will forever be thankful that I went out that night, and found myself a son."

"Tell me ....Would you have done the same had you not heard me sing?" he asked. It was a question he had never before dared ask her, too afraid what the answer might be.

She tilted her head, surprised he needed to ask. "Of course I would have," she said, not needing to even consider that. "I didn't hear you sing until after I marched into that cage. If anything, your voice made me even more determined to see you treated better."

He had thought she'd answer that way, but was still relieved to hear it. "You gave me far more than a home and a family, Mama. You gave me my music. You made all of it possible."

She smiled up at him. "We'll find your perfect voice, darling," she promised him, hoping that perhaps that voice would come from a woman who suited him well.

"Perhaps," he said, with an uncertain shrug of his shoulders, though it hardly mattered. "You know, now that Meg and I are grown, you should think about doing something for yourself," he suggested as gently as he could.

"And what sort of thing would you suggest?" she asked, her smile and tone lovingly indulgent. She knew exactly what she was going to do, but she was curious to know what he thought she should be doing with herself.

"Oh, I don't know ..." he said, somewhat vaguely, a little reluctant to broach the subject. "Don't you think you've kept Mr. Carter waiting long enough' He's been very patient."

Edith blinked, taken off-guard by that question. "Waiting for what, darling?" she asked, genuinely curious. "Mr. Carter is a very good friend, he's like a brother to me. He has been very good to us."

Gabriel couldn't help but chuckle, just a little, though he wasn't laughing at her exactly. "I do not think he considers you a sister, Mama," he pointed out, though he didn't want to poke his nose too far in the matter of match-making.

Her expression softened. "I know," she assured him. "And he and I have talked it over. I have no interest in marrying again. He respects that. If our circumstances were to change, then perhaps I might reach out to him, but for now, I see no reason to invite a man into our lives."

"Very well," Gabriel replied. "I'm sorry. I will not mention it again." He paused a moment, darting a glance at Meg before his eyes returned to that of his mother. "I only wish you to be happy, Mama. I know you are lonely sometimes now that Meg and I are grown."

"But I was lonely sometimes when you were children, as well," she told him with a fond smile. "It is the way of the world, Gabriel. It is also the reason I refused to allow you to hire a cook. Between us, Sarah and I can look after the house and our lodgers, and I have plenty to do. I am very content with my life, darling, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me?" he echoed, looking confused. All he'd done was buy her a house. It hadn't been such a big thing to him, but apparently, it had meant a lot to her.

"Darling, you are the one looking after us," she reminded him. "It is because of you that we have a beautiful home, good clothes, food to eat. That is no small thing."

"It is the least I can do, Mama," he told her, not for the first time. After all, he'd become the so-called "man of the family" some time ago. "Meg looks very happy, doesn't she?" he asked, changing the subject.

"She does," Edith agreed, glancing over at the table, where an animated conversation was apparently taking place between the young women there. "She has grown into a beautiful young woman, inside and out."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:43 EST

"I'm sure you're very proud of her," he said, knowing she was proud of both her children. He was proud of Meg, too, and more than a little protective.

"She could truly manage to become a prima ballerina," Edith admitted, a little envious of her daughter's achievements so young. "I am very proud of her. I am very proud of you, too. You have both made me so very happy."

"As I said, we are who we are because of you. Meg and I both. But yes ....I do believe she could achieve her dreams," he said, glancing once more at his sister. So long as she stayed focused and didn't ruin her prospects by getting married too soon.

"Ballet is such a short career," she said softly. "If she does not reach those heights within the next two or three years, she never will. She is focused upon doing it, and we will support her all the way to the top."

"Yes," he murmured in agreement, but how much of that would be support and how much him protecting her from potential suitors, until she has a chance to achieve that dream.

"She deserves it," Edith said, her voice quiet and warm. "As do you." She smiled up at her son, affectionate and proud. "You deserve every happiness, darling."

He turned his gaze back to his mother. It was no secret that he worried about his sister; he worried about them both, but he could not live their lives for them. He blinked, clearing the cobwebs from his head to refocus on his mother. "I am happy, Mama. Would makes you think I am not?"

Edith smiled once again, squeezing his hand fondly. "You are allowed to be lonely, darling," she assured him. "We all are, at some times in our lives."

"I never said I was lonely," Gabriel said, just a little too defensively. Like anyone, he wished there was a special someone in his life, but he had given up hope for that the night of the disastrous masquerade ball, even if his mother continued to assure him there was someone for him out there somewhere.

She let it rest there, knowing he was touchy on the subject. "Then there is nothing to concern me," she assured him. "And we have plenty of friends who visit us regularly. I hear Mr. Peterson is due back in town in a couple of weeks - his daughter is a little older than Meg. Perhaps I should introduce the two of them, what do you think?"

"Introduce them or introduce us?" he asked, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, wondering if his mother was really thinking of Meg or trying to make a match for him.

"Them," Edith answered laughingly. "I would not dream of intruding upon your conversations with her father. The two of you get on so well."

"He is an interesting man," Gabriel replied. Their conversations usually revolved around music, which had always been his first love. "I did not know he had a daughter," he confessed, though it hardly mattered.

"He does not speak of her much," she told him. "It is not that he is not proud of her, but ....She was born blind, darling. It has made her life more difficult than most, and after her mother died, Mr. Peterson took over her care most diligently. She usually stays with her aunt when they are in England."

Gabriel arched his brows in surprise at that bit of information, which he had obviously not expected. "Oh, I see," was all he said though, frowning in thought. As difficult as his own life had been, he could not imagine going through life without the ability to see. Then again, he would never again have to look at the monster in the mirror.

"She's a lovely young woman," Edith went on, "but she is very sheltered. All she truly has is her father's music and the maid who looks after her."

"Is he bringing her with him, then?" he asked, as his mother had mentioned introducing her to Meg.

"If we ask him to, he will," she said. "I am undecided whether to invite her. After all, she will be a new person in our home, and I know that we are not wholly comfortable with new people."

"I just thought she might like to visit the opera," he told her. He knew not everyone was a fan of the opera, but he was more than a little biased in his views.

"She might, but I do not think her father would allow it," Edith said reluctantly. "He is a little over protective of her. She does not go out, at his request. He is afraid of her being harmed by people who do not know of her disability."

"But she could come with us. We have box seats. No harm would come to her there," Gabriel pointed out. He was sure she'd be fine if she were with them. "It's a shame that she should not be able to experience it. Even if she can't see it, she can hear it, Mama."

Somehow, Edith managed to keep her surprise under wraps. She had never seen her son this eager to take someone to the opera, especially a young woman he had never met. "You may take it up with Mr. Peterson, but do not be too disappointed if he refuses, darling. As I said, he is overprotective of her."

"Perhaps I will," Gabriel replied, though he wasn't too sure. He was just as overprotective of Meg, but not so much that he followed her around or refused to take her places. He knew he'd been lucky and that there were plenty of other people less fortunate than himself, but he had not taken the time to consider what those misfortunes might be.

Edith smiled to herself as they continued dancing, trying not to be too hopeful. After all, what better woman to win her son's heart than one who would never see him with her eyes" Still, she was getting far ahead of herself. Tonight was about Meg, and she had sat on the sidelines for long enough.

"Dance the last waltz with your sister," she suggested to her son. "It will be a lovely way to end the evening."

"If she does not mind," he said, wondering if Meg had noticed any of the young men who'd been eying her most of the evening. Why hadn't they asked her to dance" Was it because of him?

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-10 12:45 EST

"I am sure she will not," Edith said confidently. She knew Meg had only stood up with her brother and two of the men here - men she knew through her friends, men she trusted not to try and turn a dance into something more.

"Very well then," he agreed, frowning just a little. "I do hope she enjoyed her birthday," he said, with a hint of uncertainty. He didn't think there was any reason for her not to enjoy it, but it was important to him that she did.

"Darling, look at her," his mother said fondly. "I do not think I have ever seen her so lit up as she is at this moment. Trust me when I tell you that you have made your sister's birthday very special indeed."

He smiled at last, relieved to hear that and knowing she wouldn't lie to him. "She deserves it. She's very special to me," he said, in a quiet voice, almost as if he was only talking to himself. She was special in ways only a sister could be, and though they were not of the same bloodline, he had never thought of her as anything more or less.

For Meg, Edith was sure she had never thought of her brother as anything but a brother, a playmate, and a confidante. They were as close as she could ever have wished for.

So close that if he had to name anyone as a best friend, he would have named Meg. "May I trouble you for one last dance, petit?" he asked, once he'd escorted his mother back to their table.

"Only if you stop thinking that you're bothering me by asking," was Meg's impish reply, already bouncing up from her seat to take her brother's hand with a bright grin.

"It is the last dance of the night," he told her, as he took her hand in his. He waited until they were far enough away that their mother wouldn't hear before adding, "I think Mama is growing tired."

"It is very late," Meg agreed softly. "I think, if I were not so excited, I would be sleepy myself. We should take her home after this."

"I would take her home already, but she insisted we share a last dance," he told his sister. "Have you enjoyed your evening, Meg?" he asked, despite his mother's reassurance.

"Oh, very much," she enthused. "I never thought I could have so much fun in a single evening! And it's all the better for the fact that you arranged it all for my birthday. Thank you, Gabe. Tonight has been perfect."

He beamed with pride, relieved that the evening had worked out so well and pleased that she had enjoyed it. "You know how I adore you, petit," he told her, rarely confessing openly how much she meant to him.

"Truly, Gabe, you have given me such a wonderful birthday," she assured him, her smile still shining sunshine bright as they danced. "I love my big brother."

"As I love ma petite soeur," he told her, teasing her with a little of the language that was his native tongue. "Shall we show them how it's done?" he asked, ice blue eyes shining with mirth.

Her eyes sparkled with the same kind of mischief. "Oooh, let’s." After all, she was a professional dancer, and his grace could not be denied. It may be their last dance of the evening, but they were rather determined to go out with a bang, as it were.

And go out with a bang they did. The little family had been the talk of the evening, making their first real impression on London society, even if they were as yet unaware of it. The mysterious man in the mask; the graceful, young ballerina, and their kind, lovely mother. It was certainly an evening to remember for both the little family and their envious onlookers - the first of many such nights in the months and years to come ...

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"And you are sure that my presence will not cause any difficulties?" Clara asked Edith, a little concerned that joining this household might upset their equilibrium.

Edith smiled, gently squeezing the younger woman's hand. "I have talked it over with both of them," she promised. "We would all feel much happier if you would come to live with us, Clara. As I said, you would not be the first child I have adopted into my family."

Clara's unseeing eyes smiled in answer, the barest twitch of her lips betraying a hint toward a true smile for a moment. "Then I would be very happy to come and live with you, Mrs. Gosforth," she said, her voice breaking just a little. "And I will try not to be trouble for you. At least I have a fortune I can use to help you supporting me."

"We'll see," was Edith's wise reply. "But for now, let us pack up your personal things and make arrangements for the rest to be couriered to our house or sold on. Your home is with us now."

Clara heard her rise, tracking the older woman's steps across the garret to throw open a trunk and begin packing shoes and clothing into it. And inwardly, she smiled. No wonder her father had made this provision in his will. No matter how odd the Gosforth son might be, she had a feeling that being a part of Edith's family would definitely be a fresh start.

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((Kudos to anyone who's read this far! It got away from us a little, but was a lot of fun to write. Huge thanks to my writing partner for indulging me with this. Hopefully, someone will enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it. More coming soon!))