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Next Life

Lady Genevieve 2

Philip looks and acts nothing like his half brother. He’s sweet and genuine; only twelve years old and more educated than most boys. Genevieve finds him playing chess with Nancy and retreats to her room after observing them for a while.

Deciding on a warm bath to ease her nerves, she undresses and saves my floral crown. Gene pins her hair up then climbs into the tub and slowly sits back. The water covers her skin and soothes Edward’s hateful words away. We play with the bubbles, blowing and sculpting the suds. I think she’ll start painting something tonight, or find a book to amuse ourselves till the morning.

We drift for a short while until her muscles are relaxed and tension gone down the drain with the rest of the bath water. Gene finds a new dress and braids her hair before joining Nancy, if we can find her first. We wander to unknown corners, passing by the maids as they light the hallways.

“Genevieve! Come back dear, we’re gathering in the dining room,” Aunt Louisa crys out.

“Coming!” Gene skips.

She’s delighted to see her sister and Philip. Taking the empty seat beside the cheerful girl, Gene doesn’t notice who’s directly across the table. One by one, our plates are placed before us. The duck smells delicious along with the vegetable servings. Edward is burning holes straight through Gene but she refuses to acknowledge him.

“Did you start painting yet, dear?” Aunt Louisa interrupts the murmuring sounds between the youngest of cousins, true cousins.

“I have not, yet, madame.”

“Edward, you should take Genevieve to your study and show her your latest works.”

His face looks displeased, I feel just as bitter. There goes our serene evening, instead Gene must embrace the misery of his company with a fake smile. Let’s see how long she can master that. Edward smiles, painfully, then glares at her with full warning. He thinks she’s a brat, well he’s cow faeces!

The dreadful moment arises as Edward excuses himself and waits for her at the end of the table. Do we have to? Can I tell her that her son is being a complete arse and should get spanked for his vulgar demeanor. . . or exiled?

Genevieve follows two steps behind, his silence is frightening and I contemplate if he’ll say anything tonight. We walk further, making turns left and right, followed by a narrow staircase leading to a room. This is completely isolated, if he should hurt her physically, no one would hear. Would he dare?

We enter a large room drowned in darkness. Edward lights the first lantern and walks about the space, igniting another until several flames illuminate all four corners. It’s his personal painting room. There’s sketches and still life paintings, far better than I could ever produce. Gene glances over each piece in awe.

“It pains me to admit this, but you are a magnificent painter.”

“I know, do not waste your breath.”

She bites her tongue to keep the inappropriate words at bay and keeps the compliments to herself. There’s a painting of an older man and Philip, perhaps his father. There’s even a painting of Celine, his black beauty. I know Gene wants to talk about his work, if he weren’t so . . . well, him!

“I have never painted a woman before,” he says out of the blue. I hope he isn’t implying a nude portrait, much less Gene as the subject. “I do not suppose you would . . . volunteer?”

Genevieve turns around, appalled. Some nerve! She looks back at his paintings while chewing on her bottom lip. You’re not seriously considering this, are you?

“Forgive me for asking, but how old were you when your mother passed?”

“I was six.”

“Was she a painter like you?”

“She is the source of my inspiration. . . her presence is in this room, within these paintings.”

“Would you happen to have a portrait of her?”

Edward pulls out his pocket watch and slowly makes his way to us. He demonstrates the small portrait of his beloved mother and I timidly take it from his hand, Gene seems to nervous to do anything else now. She is a sight with beautiful dark locks and bright eyes. I boldly look up at him only to compare the features.

“You,” I hesitate, “you have her eyes.”

For a moment, his face holds no expression. I suppose it’s better than his snobbish scowl. He looks down and gradually pulls the chain from my hands. It’s the second time his fingers brush ours and no matter how ugly he’s been this day . . . Gene is still intrigued by him.

I hear the faint clangs of wooden brushes against a porcelain jar, assuming Edward is cleaning his tools. Now that I’ve seen this amazing room, does he expect me to leave? I gaze at his tall dark figure, walking to the far end of the room, blowing out the first light. He paces to the next one and blows it out as well until we’re standing beside the very last one.

He approaches silently but looks to the floor.

“I remember when I was seven and I snuck into the room where you laid. It was my mother’s reading room. You were kind enough to let me sleep beside you and never questioned my intentions. I was overwhelmed with sadness that evening. . . now you know,” he adds and then it goes black.

Is Gene supposed to know all of this, about that night? Did she have any knowledge that her Aunt Louisa wasn’t his real mother? Not only is it pitch-black but it’s dead quiet too.

“I could never despise you . . . I want you to know that,” Edward confesses, he hasn’t moved either.

“Then don’t be such a jerk!” I spew and Gene covers her mouth in surprise.

Sorry! But he needed that.


“Don’t? Jerk?” he whispers. The new vocabulary probably catches him off guard . “Perhaps I have something to hide, because I cannot understand why or how . . .”

“I can’t understand what?” I interrupt again.

I feel him breathing over me as the space between us is no longer. They find me, his transparent eyes darkened by large pupils. His fingertip lands on the center of Gene’s forehead and slowly makes it’s way to the tip of her nose. Her heart’s beating so fast now, not to mention all the confusion spinning in her head.

The pad of his index finger falls on her cheek then traces down to the edge of her jawline, curving under the chin, her head lifts and we are dangerously close.

“Would you consider this a sin?”

Gene swallows hard. Whether it is or not, she’s far too committed to care. He’s already in our grasp and it’s already been done in my mind.

“Or do you desire me as I do you?” he whispers.

No longer in control, Genevieve lowers her head but he tips it back up. She understands they aren’t blood relatives but Aunt Louisa would be offended and outraged by this. Whatever this is. Surprised that she hasn’t ran off, I’m relieved that I haven’t kept Gene here against her will.

“Tell me this is wrong and I will leave you alone. I will walk out of the room and never make mention of this again.”

“This. . .” she pauses.

“I also wanted to apologize for. . .” he huffs and removes all contact before leaving the room.

“What was that?!” Gene asks once he’s gone.

I think he was hiding behind his true feelings.

Notes

Comments

Still remains on my list of top 5 stories in the fanfiction universe....

@everlasting_green
Thank you for your uplifting words, just the right dose of encouragement I needed. I'll be updating this week. ;)

Ciao Niccie Ciao Niccie
9/15/15

Literally just created an account on here to say how much I'm loving this story! You write in a way that is really easy to read (like it flows if you get what I mean) and the plot is so imaginative, all the different characters are amazing! I'm looking forward to the next update :)

Charlotte so far has been my favorite female; not sure about favorite Harry character yet.

@CiaoNiccie
You are so welcome! I'm sorry it took so long for me to comment in the first place. I've been a bit shy around here. I'm glad the thought process is back for you - I can't wait to see what you create from here on in.