Don’t worry?

How could he not worry, when he was sitting at a table with the man he was in love with and the woman he hated most? The mother that had known him in his youth, if not as her son, then as a pest she almost tolerated for her husband.

Malachi wanted to cup his cheek and kiss him. Arthur was still putting in so much more effort for him, for something that would not even matter by the end of the night, than anyone else in his life ever had.

Just because he loved him.

Before spending the last few days with Arthur, Malachi had not truly known that that could be enough.

“I’m serious as well,” he mentioned quietly, staring through the borrowed glasses into his lover’s eyes.

“She is like a child throwing a temper tantrum when she gets upset.”

Arthur’s attempt to lighten the mood was, unfortunately, not always that far off. But before he could explain any further, the door opened, and Miriam returned with her head held high and a smile plastered over her face. Levi trailed behind her, taking his seat only after she did.

“Dessert will be out shortly,” Miriam announced, reaching for her wine glass. “I trust the meal is more to your liking now, Doctor Adams?”

“It was slightly under-salted.”

“Mara. Dear, don’t–” Miriam cleared her throat. “How much longer do you intend to stay in London, doctor?”

“We’re leaving soon.”

“Malachi!”

She drew in a long, deep breath, staring at him as if that would make him disappear. Malachi calmly grabbed his glass of wine, sliding the stem between his long fingers. As he brought it to his lips to take a sip, the servants reappeared, carrying silver trays to replace the ones before them.

“Doctor Adams,” Miriam tried again, flashing yet another sickening smile.

“I am so terribly sorry for my family’s lack of etiquette. You see, dear Mara was raised by a drunkard on the streets, and little Malevolent simply refused to learn anything as a child, no matter how hard we tried. Do you still trip over your letters when you give your sermons, Mal? For as long as it took you to speak the language of our Queen, I am quite surprised to hear you speak so eloquently this evening.”

“Ah, dessert!” Levi set a hand on his mother’s arm, silently asking her to stop. “Why speak of the past when there is good food to be appreciated right now?”

Miriam, however, continued, while the servants did their best to ignore them and place the new trays down.

“I do hope, doctor, that you did a better job keeping him in line during your conference than you are doing here. I am disappointed to see that your friendship has emboldened him to speak in such a fashion to his betters, but that is the unfortunate result of these things.”

Miriam reentered the dining hall like a storm cloud.  The weight of her presence was felt immediately, and her polite smile made it worse.  Arthur did not look away as she was seated, stayed quiet until he was directly addressed.

He had to take another deep breath to stop himself from responding to Miriam right away.  While he might have sent her storming out of the room again, and wouldn't that have been nice, he also might have sent her throwing the table and its contents around the room.

Neither of those sounded like particularly bad outcomes, but Arthur did not want to risk dirtying his vest.  It was the only clean one he had left.

But the dessert plate before him did not look appetizing at all.  Perhaps it would look more edible smeared across Malachi's skin - but then they'd have to bathe again.  But then, wouldn't they have to anyway, after they were done with Miriam?

Arthur wished they had spoken more about the specifics of this evening.

"I wonder if it is your own friendships, Mrs. Brennan, that drives you to speak in such a fashion to your guests," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.  "Or perhaps, the lack of them.  Your husband had since passed, is that correct?  I can - only imagine how lonely you must be."

Internally, Arthur repressed the urge to gag.

"Have you found no one to keep you company all these years?  You know you're a beautiful woman, I imagine you would have more of a choice of the men in London than any other woman."

The things that Malachi had learned from Miriam, growing up with her cold eyes watching over him, were exceedingly few. In spite of this, they were perhaps more prominent than any learned trait from his father.

The arrogant way she stared, her blue eyes twinkling with something that might have been mischief as easily as it might have been malice, raking slowly down the man before her in critical inspection.

The way the corners of her mouth quirked just so, just enough to distinguish that she was smiling at all, but that, too, was far from friendly.

The cruel way in which she lashed, claws out, at anything that dared push her.

And, unfortunately for Arthur: the way she latched onto any perceived slight and let it poison every assumption, every word spoken to her after.

“Doctor Adams,” she said, “do not patronize me.”

“Mother. Please,” Levi urged, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Have your dessert. Do not work yourself up.”

Miriam’s stare burned for several moments after. Then, taking her napkin to set it neatly over her lap, she looked away.

“You’re correct,” her son said, a little louder. He finally turned to his own plate to begin digging into it.

“Father passed several years ago. It has been very hard on her. I try to visit whenever I can, as I know how dreadfully lonely it must be to spend her days alone in this house, but… there is only so much time.”

Slowly, Miriam removed the cake from her fork with her teeth and let it fall onto her tongue. Her eyes darted back to the doctor. After she finished the bite, she leaned forward and whispered, “I want to speak with you. Privately.”

His words were not careful enough, but Arthur was slowly losing his restraint.  Silent, Arthur took a bite of his cake to keep himself from smiling.  Oh how Miriam made his name sound like poison.

Arthur could hardly focus on Levi's response about his father.  He knew more about it then the other man did anyway, knew more about his last moments and his demise because he'd heard it straight from the man who had killed him.  Did Levi and Mara know?

How would they react, Arthur wondered, if they knew this was the last meal they would ever have with Miriam.

"Of course," was Arthur's unhesitating response to Miriam.  His eyes were wide, feigning practiced innocence.  He took another bite of cake and frowned, covering his mouth to ask, "what, now?"

She's hardly touched her cake.  Him, too.  And - it couldn't happen now.  It wouldn't, not without Malachi to witness him, not with Levi and Mara still at the table.  But just because they were speaking didn't mean it had to start.  It would just be an annoying road black he'd have to deal with before it all went down.

It looked as if it took everything in her power for Miriam not to mockingly repeat, what, now?

Instead, she blinked once and said, “yes, now.”

Without a word to excuse herself to the rest of the table, Miriam stood. Levi, Mara, and Malachi all turned their heads as she did, to watch her leave the room, though the latter quickly turned his gaze to his lover.

“Is she-…” he was not even sure what to ask. Whatever the two had exchanged, it had either bothered her enough to leave silently, or she was expecting him to follow after her.

She turned her head as she went through the door, nodding for the doctor to follow.

Malachi gave Arthur’s hand a squeeze, and then released it.

Whatever Malachi was going to ask, Arthur did not know.  Had no idea what to expect, had never thought he'd need to deal with Miriam by himself.  But he had made this bed, so he would lie in it.

"Please excuse me then," he said to the rest of table, though mostly it was for Malachi.  As soon as it was gone, he missed the weight of his lover's hand, but he could not dwell on it.

Not particularly rushing, but not taking his time either, Arthur followed out the door Miriam went through and found the woman.

"Mrs. Brennan," he began, "I want to apologize if I've offended you at all.  Doing so was not my intention."

A lie, of course, but if the words alone had a chance of placating Miriam then they were worth a try.

"You've been very kind as to house Malachi and I in your home, and I've not shown you the gratitude I feel.  I apologize for that as well."

Dark eyes followed after Arthur as he left the table and disappeared from the dining hall.

Suddenly the room felt so much colder.

Just outside of the closed door, in one of several entrances to the servant’s hall that led down into the kitchen, Miriam crossed her arms lightly over her chest and let the doctor speak.

The expression she wore was almost bored.

“Doctor – Arthur. Please.” She looked him up and down again, slower this time, as if looking for something on his person. “It is hardly your fault. I am appalled every time at the influence that creature has over those that are compassionate enough to show him kindness.”

Miriam uncrossed her arms, taking a step closer. One delicate hand came to rest over Arthur’s heart, while her eyes observed the material of his vest from up close.

“You have done nothing but pique my interest, Doctor Adams,” she whispered. “And you are still in London for the night, are you not? I would not wish for you to miss the comfort of someone in your bed while you are here.”

Arthur saw Miriam's hand coming from a mile away, and that was the only thing that saved him from flinching away from her touch.

Where her hand was laid only slightly to the side of his and Malachi's name, carved into his chest.  How would she react if she saw it, he wondered.  Would she even recognize it for what it was?

"Oh," came his genuine reaction to her - stunning forwardness.  Truly, she had no shame at all.

The worst part of it all was how Arthur's face still colored in embarrassment, even as his soul shriveled up inside of him.

"Mrs. Brennan, um - I believe we are here for the night again, yes, but - when I said you had your choice of the men in London I did not mean, ah, myself.  As - regretful as I might be to turn you away."

His hand came up to rest over hers, but he did not move it away.  Instead, he looked up and down her dress again, allowing his eyes to linger on her cinched waist.

"And regretful I am indeed, ma'am."

Oh? Oh?

Miriam – much like the priest that called her mother – only found herself encouraged by the redness that colored Arthur’s face.

Her hand was small underneath his. Cold, and colder still for the rings she wore upon it and the bracelet that captured her wrist. As the doctor spoke, one brow lifted with what might have been doubt.

“Why?”

Because he had a woman waiting for him at home, all the way back in Whitby? Miriam tilted her head as she leaned ever closer. Stepped closer, until she had Arthur’s back to the wall.

“I will not say a word of it, if that is what concerns you.”

Arthur's back hit the wall with a dull thud.  Miriam was so close - he refused to turn away, but any closer and he would have no choice but to.  It was either that, or gag directly in this woman's mouth, and he doubted she'd like that very much.

"I trust you to be quiet after the fact, of course," he murmured, "it's during I'm thinking about.  Your son is only in the other room."

He seemed to battle with himself for a moment, looking away from Miriam and biting his lip.  The image of a man in turmoil, Arthur was, before he glanced back to the woman against him.

"Are they... spending the night?  Levi and his wife?  Must they?"