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The Beginning of the End [ Active / Semi-Open ]

Since his surprising loss at the election Gilbert Norrell has gone deep into hiding. Whispers say he rarely leaves his house, and yet more say he has been demanding a recount and investigation! That much, at least, is certainly true. A recount was done in a few territories, and at least one uncovered some suspicious vote meddling, but not anything they could pin on anyone. Nothing significant enough to change the result. Gilbert Norrell has lost, and after how certain his victory seemed it is a hollow thing indeed.

Tapping On The Glass

Yet Gilbert Norrell is not the only one to be suspicious of this sudden turn of events.

Childermass knows how hard Norrell campaigned, how much support he raised, how loud and forward his supporters were. Certainly after all the chaos with fae in the build up things seemed sure to fall in his favour. So, when Norrell instructs him (as he is wont to do) to investigate it is perhaps no surprise that he was planning to look into it anyway. Perhaps no surprise that he even found something, although the hows and whys are of course likely a surprise to Norrell.

The man is jumpy, perhaps more so than usual. Even at his best Gilbert Norrell held a distinct air of paranoia about him. Why should he not? He has a reputation, and one people should very much like to besmirch! They are jealous, of course, and he expects treachery at every turn! Oh, they would very much like to destroy him he is sure! Very much like to overturn his good work and bring the country to ruin!

The longer it goes on, the more convinced he becomes. His house is warded with as many spells as he can cast, and Norrell keeps to his library -- in a state of constant vigilance for intruders and betrayers while he researches. The world outside spins on, yet he takes little notice.

The knock startles Norrell in the quiet, and he stares down the doorway before Childermass stumbles in.

It takes him only a few short seconds to ascertain that he is not in good shape.

"Childermass!" he exclaims, "where on earth have you been? What has happened to you?" He rings a bell impatiently for someone else to come, frowning at the man as he stands and moves around the desk -- not quite willing to come too close but hesitantly uncertain if he should be helping. "I sent you out to find information, not involve yourself in a brawl!"

A Whisper of Treachery

Even so much as he is concerned about attacks on himself, about the poor state of things now he is no longer on the Night Council, he still does have time for his coven. That, of course, includes Elizabeth DeWitt. She may be an American, yet he has grown rather fond of her. She at least appears to listen to him, and while she is somewhat strong willed he knows she does have talent. If only she would just apply herself more to books...!

It is therefore pleasant of her to visit him for her tutelage still, and he has invited her into his library -- where tea and sandwiches have been served to help things along.

"Of course," he is saying while pushing some tea toward her, "I was as much surprised as you were. I am still quite certain that foul play was involved -- oh, very certain indeed! Yet it has become difficult to do anything about such a thing. The Night Council would not want it public such a thing is even possible, you see! Oh, no, they must be seen to be correct in all things! I am sure that is why they refuse to help me. I have written to them many a time, yet nothing has come of it. Childermass is looking into it, though. You will see. Childermass is good at these things."

Taking a sandwich he offers her a slightly forced smile and holds out a plate of them for her. How good it is to have someone to talk to who understands!

A Meeting of Witches

It is late when the knock at the door comes, and the summer storm rains so heavy against the glass he thinks it only that at first. Then, between the rumbles of thunder, he hears it again. A strange thing, too, since not many tend to visit Gilbert Norrell now he has less influence -- especially not at this hour. Yet the knocking is insistent, and after a moment he leans back and takes off his glasses, lofts an eyebrow at Childermass that suggests he go see to it.

The house is much heavier in its warding than it used to be, thick with magic to keep away fae largely, but his offer to Nancy of help in a time of need is one that will still stand -- and there is nothing to prevent a fellow witch coming near.

Especially not one who is invited it, and lead through the labyrinthine magic.

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"A strong cup of tea will help," he assures her. "I often find my nerves are settled much better with some tea! Come, tell us what happened," he says, and flutters about for something for her to sit on which will not suffer with the wet. The hesitation as he tries to find something is clear -- he has some sympathy, but not quite enough to let her ruin good furniture. Or sit on a chair he likes. Eventually he grabs a small wooden stool (one in reality used for stepping on to reach high shelves) and offers it to her with a fixed grimace of a smile.

Nancy nods pathetically, and once the towels arrive, she bundles herself in one of them, making a big show about how soft the fabric is.

The large towel wrapped around her like a cloak, Nancy sits on the stool. She didn't expect Childermass to be here. But if he must be, she won't make a fuss of it. She has nothing he cannot hear.

She takes a few moments, to wait, to settle into the stool, and build the atmosphere back again, that she is suffering. Blinking her wide eyes, she avoids looking at either man, the picture of pathetic and pitiful. "You were right, Mr. Norrell," she tells him. "The fae- my father- I thought the hospital was the worst of it, but I was wrong. I was so bloody wrong!" She allows herself to burst into tears, holding herself tightly.

Edited 2016-06-27 02:24 (UTC)

Childermass would have to be a fool to leave the pair of them alone, and Childermass is no fool. Not when he can help himself, at least. He watches them, moving to lean back against one of the shelves out of the way of their conversation but still remaining close enough to be able to watch and hear everything that is being said and done. Norrell is not naive per se, but that is not to say that the other man is not suggestible. Especially not when in the hands of such a one as Nancy.

He waits for the tea to arrive and takes it from the other server, thanking them quietly and saying he'll do it himself before stepping forward to set the tray down on the table beside the young woman. "Drink some tea," he says. "Calm yourself." In a manner to suggest that he still has no intentions of believing her story until he sees concrete proof of the validity of it.

(ooc: apparently when you reply from email and have the thread tracked by another journal IT REPLIES WITH THAT JOURNAL OOPS...)

Her father? The fae? In truth, Norrell had not really known her real relationship with Fagin -- so he looks a little confused and surprised at her dramatics. Still, there is enough for him to get some idea. At the core of it, she has been wronged by fae! That is not a surprise. He stands awkwardly a moment, hands wringing, until Childermass speaks and he seems to jump back to life -- latching onto that.

"Yes, yes, the tea!" he repeats, and gestures at it encouragingly. Perhaps then she might be settled enough to speak more clearly!

Nancy isn't sure exactly how she expected this to go down, but she's certain hemming and hawing wasn't it. but she wasn't surprised in the slightest by Norrell's reaction.

Or Childermass' for that matter. He would never trust her. Good- she would never trust him, either.

She accepts the tea, and takes a careful sip at their bidding. Keeping her eyes low, the picture of humility, she bows her head. "thank you- I'm sorry." she looks at the door. "I keep imagining he's going to barge in here any minute and kill me- I can't shake the feeling tonight of all nights. My entire way here, the word murder stood out on every tube advertisement- I can't help but think it's an omen." Maybe it was- but not for her.

"Between Fagin and the vampires, I won't last the year. They'll kill me, one way or another. I should have listened!" She struggles to hold tears back as the tea is nearly forgotten.

Childermass can't help but think that it's all very dramatic. This show that she's putting on for Norrell. And there has to be something more to it than just the audience that she has managed to receive with the man now. There has to be something else. But he doesn't sense anything about her, and Nancy isn't strong enough on her own to be able to take on the both of them. So why this? Why all of this?

"Do you have proof of this?" Childermass cannot help but ask. "What has he done to lead you to believe such things?" Certainly, her Faigin has treated her poorly in the past and it's never sent her scrambling into the protective arms of Norrell, of all people.

Norrell hesitates at Childermass and his harsh chiding, feeling peculiarly cowed himself by the tone, then rallies and offers Nancy an awkward attempt at an encouraging smile.

"It is understandable," he says, "the fae are master manipulators. You were lead to believe they would protect you! It is a shame it came to this, but perhaps now your example will help others understand!"

Of course, Nancy would be a wonderful martyr for Daybreak to use. A Midnight witch, driven into the arms of a Daybreak High Priest! Fleeing from her terrible fae tormentors!

"Proof-" Nancy closes her eyes, looking away from these men. When she opens her eyes again, she's looking at Childermass "I come to you in need and you ask for proof-! Of course you would not believe me. Who could believe a girl like me? A whore you've hired..." Childermass wants proof. Childermass will get proof, and if she's lucky, a good dose of realizing how big of a dick he is. He's the threat to her operation, and she needs him to let his guard down.

Nancy closes her eyes again, pressing her lips together and reaches up and pulls back her curtain of ginger hair, revealing her neck. There, without any sorts of glamours or makeup, are a good number of puncture wounds from the vampires that have fed off of her for the past few years. Following suit, she shows him her wrists, covered in the same marks.

"There are others, too..." she shifts uncomfortably. She's not going to show them the rest of her body.

She sniffles and nods, and turns from Childermass, back to Norrell. "I was promised-he was so good to me for so long. I should have known-" she wraps her arms tightly around herself.

"They have nearly drained me dry, every night. I never wanted this." She didn't. She never had. But it was the life she lead, and it was hers to live. "Please, Mr. Norrell- you must help me. I've no where else to go."

Childermass doesn't particularly approve of the implications that he doesn't believe her because of what she is. He grew up on the streets, he was raised by women just like her. But he doesn't feel particularly driven to correct her either. Let her think what she likes of him, it doesn't really matter to him one way or the other her opinion of him. So long as it doesn't interfere with their conversation.

As for Nancy's 'proof', Childermass doesn't know what to make of it. He knows what she does for a living. He knows that this is part of what she does, for that matter, offering herself to vampires. She is suggesting that she had never wanted it -- he can believe that. Why would anyone want to offer themselves thus. The question still remains --

"Why now?" he has to ask. Why is she here now? What has pushed her over the edge thus? There must be some reason she is here. Seeking out Norrell, of all people.

Norrell makes a fussy sort of flapping motion at Childermass, as if to silently communicate yes, yes, we'll get to that part.

"Can you not see the girl is distressed!" he declares, before moving on to the important (in his opinion) part. "Do you think they will come looking for you here? They cannot enter -- none of us would give them permission, of course! We do not allow their kind here!" Vampires, fae, all the distasteful sorts. "But it will be... difficult, if they linger."

Give a bad sort of impression to anyone who notices. Make it hard to leave if they haunt every doorway. His reputation may well suffer if his house is seen to be surrounded at all times by less than respectable folk!

Of course, it may suffer for harbouring a midnight witch too, but this has good reason! It is for a greater good!

Sorry, Childermass. You may have grown up in the gutters and the streets, but Nancy remained there, and likely would until her death. Death that she knew would come for her sooner rather than later. She wouldn't kid herself to think she'd live a long life. Such beliefs only helped her performance. She nearly rose to her feet however, to explain how obvious it should be as to why she was here. But she remained seating, pulling her towel closer around her like a shield.

Ignoring Childermass, she focused again on Norrell. "no- that's why I came here. They'll look for me with my friends. You're the last person they'd believe I'd come to." Let them believe she'd told no one of his offer.

"if anyone can help me, it's you, Mr. Norrell." She looks like a child, no makeup save that which runs down her cheeks as she looks up at the man who shall believe he is her savior.

Childermass knows that he's being dismissed, ignored by Nancy, but he's having none of it. He wants to know the meaning of this because as far as he's concerned it's more than a little suspicious.

"So what would you have of him?" he asks Nancy, before turning to Norrell as well. "You know of her allegiances. If she says that these people are after her... Simply having her here is a threat in and of itself, sir." He knows he is stating the obvious, but he hopes he is stating it in such a way that will get across the point of the matter. Do you really want to be involving yourself in other people's problems like this? Especially at such threat to your person? It's certainly not Norrell's usual style, all things considered.

It's true, everything Childermass says is true and Norrell knows it. He is, in truth, horrified by the sight of Nancy -- it makes his delicate sensibilities twitch and curl inwards. Yet Norrell is not without heart, and perhaps if he helps her quickly he might get rid of her quickly too.

"Fetch her some hot water!" he snaps, and waves quickly at Childermass. If they argue much longer he will get a headache. Perhaps if he removes Childermass a moment they will both calm down. Nancy is just a girl, after all, what could she do? "And a cloth! Let her clean herself up a little before you question her."

It's odd- usually she's in Childermass' position. People barking at her to do something, be of more help. She always did all she could, willingly and often without being told, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Sometimes, you just wanted your voice to be heard.

But both she and Norrell were hearing Childermass loud and clear.

"I don't know what I want," she admits. "I know how this looks, and I'm sorry. I'm so bloody sorry." She closes her eyes again, against the world. "I don't even think there's anything anyone can do for me. I made my bed fourteen years ago. It's high-time I lied in it." She wipes at her eyes.

"You have every right to refuse to help me. Most good men would. But please, let me have safety tonight."

Childermass looks between the two, taking in the look of Nancy and the pathetic way she is selling herself to them, unable to tell in truth whether it's a lie or not. Perhaps because he knows there is some truth to the matter, he just doesn't know how big of a part that is. He glances back at Norrell, letting him know as best he can in his gaze that he's not happy about this, that he doesn't trust her. Before he does as he's told. He can't keep ringing for another servant to come for him, after all. Not without raising more questions. Not without potentially getting more of them involved.

"Do not make the mistake of trusting her," Childermass warns, glancing at Nancy once more before disappearing out the door to fetch what he has been asked to. At least if there is trouble, he has confidence that Norrell will let him know. Barring that, the security spells will.

Norrell waits until Childermass has left, frozen awkwardly slightly cringed away from Nancy until he finally moves -- turns to pick up a tin of biscuits and hesitantly opens it and offers one to her.

"Perhaps something to eat might steady you?" he offers, a little hopeful that at some point all the crying might stop. Norrell is not particularly good with displays of emotion, or much good with women at all to be quite honest. His only understanding is what he knows of himself -- that a drink and a biscuit sometimes helps him calm down!

Unfortunately sometimes such a cure does not scale to larger problems.

"Thank you." She's breathless, and she reaches for the biscuit. She holds it in one hand, but doesn't move to eat it. How could she, with Childermass' words echoing in her ears?

"I made a mistake in coming here," she settles with. "I should have known-" she won't let herself finish, shaking her head, auburn curls slowly drying in the heat from the fire.

She should have known she wouldn't be welcome here. That's what she'll say if bidden.

She takes a long, shuddering breath. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Norrell. If there's some way you could offer me shelter, but only for the night. Or- help me get out of London...? I would be so grateful. Midnight would never do such a thing for me." They would. If she needed it.

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The Beginning of the End [ Active / Semi-Open ]

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