Trails of Intertwined Stars: Chapter 74 {Part 1}

~Chapter 50: The Wedding Guests~

"You see how she treats me, dear?" Mistress Mohan glanced at her husband, trying to seem distraught.
"Do not let it taint the day, my love," Master Mohan spoke out," Though her attitude has left me quite shaken, I must say. But let us not forget the main reason for today."
"Ah!" Mistress Mohan cried, as the young lord stepped out of the patio, dressed in a decadent suit," There he is!"
Henry smiled, charmingly schooled, which covered his charmingly handsome face," I hope I haven't kept you all too long?"
Mistress Mohan flocked over to him in an instant; dusting off his jacket, straightening his waistcoat and pandering over his cravat.
"You look just like your father, Henry. Doesn't he dear, look just like our little Vincent?"
Master Mohan nodded, smiling for once, which felt like an abnormal expression on his wrinkled up face," A spitting image, no doubt about it."
Henry chuckled," I daresay I can beat my father's standards."
"You already have," Mistress Mohan scoffed," Marrying an Englishwoman."
"My mother was an Englishwoman too."
Mistress Mohan scowled," Born in England, and half English, yes. But the other half ruined it all."
"She was a beautiful woman though, despite it," Master Mohan timidly added.
Mistress Mohan shot him a dark look, in which the old man relented with another cry; fiddling with his military badges on his blazer.

Henry glanced around, his eyebrows furrowed," Where is Leora?"
"Changing," Mistress Mohan responded, curtly," And hopefully changing her attitude too, it was unsightly a moment ago."
"Ah, I see," Henry pursed his lips.
Edward briskly made his way to the gate, and opened it; bowing as the first of Henry's esteemed guests entered. The first, was naturally, Lady Gwendolyn and Lord Bernard; who had quite clearly come together in the same carriage. Lady Gwendolyn seemed the type of woman to always appear promptly, and Lord Bernard, despite being married to someone else, always seemed strung along by the social butterfly of a lady.
Henry grinned, marvellously, making his way over, his arms spread," I'm so glad you could both make it."
"Of course we made it, Henry," Lady Gwendolyn smiled, curtly," You know I love things like this."
Lord Bernard raised an eyebrow at Lady Gwendolyn, but clapped Henry fondly on the shoulder. Mistress Mohan made her way over, Master Mohan timidly following behind like some sort of old dog.
"My, my, Gwendolyn; you haven't changed a bit," Mistress Mohan smiled.
"And you haven't aged a moment, my dear," Lady Gwendolyn chuckled.
"Ah, flattery will get to anyone."

The next guest entered, a sleepy looking man who practically stumbled through the gates; with a mousey looking face.
"Jacques Baudelaire!" Henry laughed," You came all the way."
"Oui..." Jacques muttered, rubbing his eyes," All the way from my studio in Paris. I was working on a wonderful new...Journaux."
Catherine tilted her head," Journaux? Oh, French is such a beautiful language! It must be something beautiful, like a dress, or a fan, or a-"
"Newspapier," Jacques muttered," I believe you Englishmen call it."
"Ah..." Catherine sweat dropped.
"Oh, I'm sure it can wait," Henry grinned, holding out his hand to shake it.
Jacques shook his hand, but with each shake seemed to drift off to sleep more and more; till his shoulders were hunched and his head drooped.
Next, came in Basil and Dorian; both dressed nicely, though it was safe to assume Dorian got his servant to dress the usually scruffy artist, however Dorian looked much happier to be there than Basil did.
"There they are," Henry smiled, grandly," My closest companions."
Basil scowled," I don't know whether to be honoured or...offended."
"Oh, don't be like that, Basil," Dorian chuckled," I for one, am quite happy that Harry praises us so highly."
"Any praise from Lord Henry is an insult..." Basil grumbled.

Leora trudged out from the patio, dressed in a neat Victorian dress that matched her cousins. She stood beside her uncle Lewis, who shot her a small, sympathetic smile at the miserable look branded upon her face. Next to arrive was Lord Bramston, dressed up in an ugly sort of blazer, with his hair slicked back, moreso than usual. He and Henry embraced upon arriving, before the lord scanned the contents of the guests, with a greedy sort of look. His gaze immediately fell upon Leora, and he made his way over.
"There is my beautiful bride to be," He chuckled, squeezing her tightly against himself.
Leora scowled, but hid her scowl in his shoulder," Hello, Lord Bramston..."
Both Lewis, and his daughter's, seemed shocked that Leora was marrying this man, and quite disturbed at the thought; despite them already knowing from Henry that she was. Next, from the gate, appeared a large, butch woman; dressed in an ugly abundance of purple frills, with a bonnet squeezed mercilessly onto her large head. She pushed an equally hideous pram, in which the shrill cries of a baby echoed. It was a disturbing sight, as well, in such an unexplainable way.
"M-Marjorie Cook," Henry struggled to say her name, practically grimacing," I'm so relieved you made it."

"As am I, Henry," The gruff woman practically shouted over her baby's cries," Clarence wouldn't stop crying the whole way here. I think he doesn't particularly like the carriage."
"I'm sure he's a delightful baby," Mistress Mohan forced a wry smile, peering in to look at the baby.
Marjorie pushed the pram out for them all to see. Clarence was not an ordinary baby, in fact, he looked like a piglet shoved into clothes belonging to a baby. He even squealed like a pig. There was something about the sight that sent everyone on their toes, as they glanced down at the hairless creature pretending to be a child. Everyone seemed to recoil a little, struggling not to pull a face of disgust and discomfort at the wriggling, swaddled, breathing lump of a child. Mistress Mohan could only smile elegantly for Marjorie Cook, yet even then, the gap between smile and grimace was a narrow one. Clarence's repulsive squeals died down, as the final guest entered through the gate. It was a dashing man, with a cold sort of look to him, he was gorgeous, yet abnormally so. His hair was pure white, but he was not old, not in the slightest. He only looked to be around his early twenties. With crisp, pale skin that made him look shaped out of snow. Yet that was not the fascinating part; his eyes were two different colours. One was a dark navy, and the other a gray hue. He was perfectly slender, and carried around with him a briefcase of sorts. Leora sighed. This was typical of her brother. He would have hideous friends to show how glamorous he truly was, but then he'd also have a small collection of gorgeous people to brag about how elegant he was.

"Julian Frost," Henry smiled, grandly," I thought you'd never come. Cutting it awfully late, aren't you?"
Julian gave Henry an equally charming, pointed smile," Now, now, don't be like that Henry. I'm afraid I got caught up in some business near Whitley. A dear patient of mine had problems with his chest, you see."
"I hope nothing contagious," Master Mohan eyed the doctor warily.
"Nothing of the sort!" Julian laughed," He took a nasty injury, is all; a very hands on man, he is. Which reminds me; Master and Mistress Mohan, how is your medication holding up?"
"Well, we get no side effects any longer," Mistress Mohan smiled.
"A relief, indeed."
Julian's gaze trailed over to Leora, his eyes raking over her figure for a moment. Something about the way he held a gaze made Leora's skin crawl, ever so slightly. Julian gave her a smile, yet Leora couldn't help but see a malicious undertone to it, where everyone else saw a dashingly handsome man.
"My, you must be dear Leora," Julian made his way over," A pleasure. Henry tells me much about you."
"All insults, I suspect," Leora raised an eyebrow.
"On the contrary, my dear. Your brother speaks avidly of what a wonderful young lady you've become."
Julian took her hand and pressed his lips against it's back. His lips lingered there for a while, and he held his nerving gaze with her.

There was no warmth in his lips. It was uncomfortable and cold. His breath ghosted over her flesh, before he pulled away; moving to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You have such a fragile body," Julian whispered," I can tell. Family history with illness has not been the greatest either, or at least, Henry tells me. Do not feel afraid to contact me if you come down with anything, dear Leora."
Leora nodded, weakly, glancing away. She didn't want to look at those predatory eyes or vulphine smile anymore; it made her skin crawl.
"One can only hope you'll fall to alimentation soon, to give me an excuse..." He murmured, glancing at her, up and down.
The guests made their way to the table set up in the garden to eat, yet Leora lingered back after what Julian Frost had said. She watched him, and watched however nobody suspected him. Yet she couldn't stand him. She glanced around suddenly, hearing a noise. Jiu had walked past the patio, most likely using a different exit to go to town like Mistress Mohan had instructed. Leora ran off a little further from the guests, trying her best to hide her tears.