Walter de Ville's Advocate

Chapter Seven

As I made my way up to the east drawing room, I considered what Lucy needed to discuss with me. Would she finally call out Viktoria?

Part of me hoped she would, for if the accusation is great enough it might be just the excuse to finally be rid of her. And surely her modern family would understand that.

I'd watched 500 years of potential Klopstock brides live, grow old, and die, so it shouldn't be surprising for me to wonder how the dynamic of my household would be if Viktoria had succumbed to any of the attackers we've had for half a millennium.

I opened the door to see a frail Alfred Alexander sitting on the opposite side of the room. Although he was known as the sixth of his name, he was in fact the first. To any unaware human, he appeared to be around 90 years old, when in reality his devotion to me granted him the age of 230.

It wasn't too late to gain approximately another four decades on this Earth, though the appearance of his body – the aged skin and fragility of his physique – were irreversible.

"My lord," he said, moving to stand up with the aid of his cane. I raised my hand, allowing the elderly man a reprieve from our customs.

"No need to get up, for this will be a short visit. After all, you have a great-niece to welcome into the family," I chuckled as I offered the bicentennial a drink. He kindly refused, his hand automatically reaching for the empty space his left eye once resided as I neared him. "Ah, and no need to worry, old friend. This is to be a pleasant visit. We can let bygones be bygones, right?"

He gave me an odd look. "Of course, my lord," he rested his hand on his cane. "How have you found young Evelyn? My nephew says she's a quite charming girl, if not a little unusual."

"Unusual?" I laughed.

Alfred raised his right eyebrow, "Well, the girl seems frightfully independent. Evelyn has lived alone in a large city, managing a budget on her own," just barely, "not to mention she's already got a bachelor's degree, and is working on a master's as well . . ."

"Seems like you are describing an intelligent woman; one that can provide stimulating conversation."

Alfred scoffed, "I was there, my lord. I recall not too long ago when such creatures were simply beautiful, and had a hobby or skill to keep them busy at home. Why, Viktoria plays the harp and always has a novel in hand, while Lucy is the most skilled dancer I've seen in over a century. And she does those . . . sewing doodles," he trailed off, searching for the word.

"Needlepoint, embroidery," I supplied.

He attempted to snap his fingers at that, but it was a task he'd been unable to complete in some time. "I, of course, am not trying to persuade you away from our new addition; we've been in your debt since Emmaline took her own life."

I squeezed my eyes shut, turning just slightly so he had an obscured view of me.

The members of the three families knew to avoid speaking her name – knew not to even mention that horrible day – yet the leader of the family she belonged to now felt comfortable enough to disrespect me to my face? Had the frightened movement towards his missing eye been in jest?

This revelation along with Emmaline's recent visit made my mind swarm with too many thoughts; enough to make a human mad.

Worst of all, I felt a small ounce of . . . fear.

It's not something I would ever share with another soul – or even those of us that lacked one – but somehow Emmaline knew it. Was it wisdom in death, or had she always known?

Fear can lead to death, and death . . .

I paused, looking up to an old portrait of myself from the 16th century. My visage looked the same as now, though the clothing and painting style put it squarely in the 1550s. I was a stronger man then, hardly ever questioning my decisions.