The Secret World of Ophelia Fontaine

Part Twelve - A plan

The various clocks around the decadent room confirmed that it was three in the morning on the seventh of June. Yet, even with the passing of time, the dread of the past weighed down her spirit. It saddened her that she was left to face the crappy reality all on her own. She had always believed that there would be the day that Aurelie would be safe to join her side and they could face the world together on their own terms. Lady Fae and Lady Aura would reign supreme throughout the mists of time. Responsibly, of course, but at their own whimsy.

The excitement over, everyone began to trickle out two or more at a time. Within the span of thirty minutes, the speakeasy was empty of all patrons save Theo, Darien, and herself. She slowly put her gloves back on and dismounted the bar via a discreet step stool at the far corner. Theo stretched out on own of the buttoned leather settees, tossing his top hat onto another.

Darien stood behind her friend, his hip leaning against the settee's plush back, his demeanor contemplative. He watched her intently, the wheels churning behind his pensive eyes. She knew he had questions, but so did she. Granted his questions deserved an explanation after what she had introduced him too, but in reality they had a matter at hand that was far more pressing.

She removed her choker, its filigree centerpiece having annoyingly poked her for the last time, and displaced the pin that held her jaunty little hat in place. Tossing them onto a nearby ottoman, she followed Theo's lead and reclined on the matching settee across from his.

She closed her mind for a moment, contemplating where to begin. There were so many questions that needed to be answered, and yet how to find the time to sate every one of them. She mentally sorted through each one that came to mind and settled on the few that she deemed most urgent.

"Mr. Breckenridge is searching for Aurelie, but instead of hiring you to search for her he lied and put you to the task of following me under the false pretenses of corporate espionage. Why?"

Theo sat up, he attention seized by her meanderings. Darien remained as he was, his mind far away. Why did her skill have to be time travel when telepathy could be far more useful? Silence stretched between the three of them as they all tried to unravel her riddle.

"He is not searching for Aurelie," Darien muttered, finally snapping to the present. "He wants you."

Ophelia arched an sleek brow in question. "How so?"

He came around the furniture to seat himself beside Theo, whose eyes glinted with curiosity. Darien leaned forward, propping his elbows upon his knees as he clasped his hands together. "Theo stated that the two of you bonded over the uniqueness of your...er, talents. He must have noticed your preference for gloves and your understandable dislike for touching walls. He knew why Aurelie wore gloves, but has no clue as to why you do. It was his hope that I would ferret it out."

"And now that you have been made aware, old man, what do you plan to report back?" Theo interjected.

"Well, that depends on what course of action will best support our needs," Darien stated, dragging an unclasped hand down the length of his weary face. "Miss Fontaine has certainly created a convincing persona for the outside world. Everyone I spoke to supported my suspicions that she was as dull as they come."

"Hey!" Ophelia piped in, unable to let the offense wash over her ruffled feathers.

Darien grinned at her lack of restraint. "Believe you me, Miss Fontaine. There is nothing frumpy about the Lady Fae I see before me. I am confident that this is the closest to the real you that anyone has ever been able observe."

Her cheeks warmed with a mixture of embarrassment and something else that was hardly describable. Since learning of her ability, she had been careful to school her emotions to deflect the loss and alienation that came with being different. Not only had she hidden her ability from those that she believed would judge her, or take advantage of her, but she also concealed herself. Determined to shield herself from a world that could never fully grasp her existence.

And then there was Darien St. Clare. For days he had followed her from place to place, and he had fallen for the persona that was Ophelia Fontaine. But once she had allowed him into her secret little world, he had passed through the curtains of the stage and witnessed all that lie behind the scenes. Clever man, this Mr. St. Clare. It was a wonder that he limited himself to private investigative work when there were many more honorable choices of employment that could benefit from his perceptive mind. It appeared to her that she was not the only mystery to be solved in this room.

"Why steampunk?" Darien asked, disrupting the current ponderings of the moment. "I mean, there are historical societies out there that would sell there soul to travel back in time. So why did you choose a gaudy group of kids that fantasize about steam, gadgets, and out of date virtues?"

"What the bleeding hell, old man? I thought we were friends?" Theo hollered as if offended, though its authenticity was quickly diminished by the shit eating grin that consumed the lower half of his face.

Ophelia grinned in reciprocation. How could she not? "For this reason alone," she stated, flicking her head her comrade's direction. "Historical societies praise the history, and more often then not, feel as if they were born in the wrong era. They would want to study the past or, worst of all, would demand to remain in it. These kids, as you so eloquently call them, fantasize only aspects of the past. Their only wish is to enjoy it. Most of them are technological gurus. Prodigies in this modern era. While they do adore the historical romanticisms that steampunk allows them explore, they are just as inspired by the transformation that will form our future. Does this make any sense to you, Mr. St. Clare?"

 He tilted his head and gazed at her in a manner that made her heart swell with admiration, though she could not explain as to why. Maybe it was the fact that he was as much an enigma as she was. There was something about him that she could not put her finger on with any amount of certainty. What she did know was that he was incredibly keen, more so then anyone she had ever met.

"Have you a plan for when you report back to Breckenridge?" Theo asked, unwittingly interrupting the bewitchery that had linked them for those few seconds.

Darien shook his head as if coming out of a trance, and then focused his gaze on Theo. "If I say nothing, he will become suspicious. How long has Aurelie been in hiding?"

"Two weeks," Ophelia and Theo answered in unison.

"And no one else has wondered about her whereabouts? Has he filed a missing persons report?"

That question caught Ophelia's attention and she reached in her memory for any recollection of the police visiting his office or any reports circulating across her desk that would hint to whether or not he had informed authorities of his daughter's disappearance. Nothing came to mind. Only the appointment with Darien.

"How did you know that he had hired me to follow you?" he asked, dragging his gaze to meet hers, though a little reluctantly.

"Aurelie, of course," she replied readily. Aurelie had clasped her hands in an effort to foresee her father's attempts to seek her out. Since Ophelia worked at Granger  and saw the day to day workings of the office, it was reasonable that her future would be entangled with Breckenridge's. Sure enough, she had seen the private investigator's presence sleuthing about in her life, even their luncheon. Ophelia knew that there was more to what she had seen, but her friend had been persistent that she only mention what was necessary at the moment. Too much information about one's future could sway how one conducted their life.

 "And when did you decide that it was a wise move to lay all your cards on the table?"

Her gaze met with Theo's for a few moments. It had been Aurelie's idea. She had told them that a truth for a truth would shift Darien's loyalties to them. And she had been correct, as always. It was up to Ophelia to concrete his allegiance, but of course her bedridden friend had omitted the instructions of how she was to do so.

When neither responded right away, Darien voiced his own presumption. "If she saw me coming a mile away, then I find it within reason that your fortune telling gypsy of a friend conspired to win me over with a refreshing dose of honesty, am I correct?"

"Your discernment wins again," she stated with a furrowing brow. There was more to Darien St. Clare than even he knew, she was certain of it.