Tales after Dusk 01

He stops suddenly, looking at the old clock on the wall. It is half past nine. Eleven, that is when he meets her, Miss Lia. The thought of her beautiful face melts the aches from his body, "I met a woman yesterday, Myrtle. She is coming back to see me at eleven." The dumbfounded look on the cook's face makes him laugh gleefully; he tells her the whole story.

"Well you can't just go meet a lady in your normal clothes, she'll think you're a servant!"

"I am a servant," he grumbles, finishing his omelet before grabbing a slice of bread and slathering it with butter, "besides, I can't very well go naked."

"No, I suppose you would have to know her a little better before you do that," she says, causing Simon to almost choke on his bread, "Come now, I have an idea." She drags him by the arm into her quarters.

For a servant's room it is rather plush. A nice full size bed, a somewhat tattered arm chair, a fireplace and a worn rug take up most of her area. Along the back wall is a large wardrobe where all of the linens are stored. She has to move a small table to get into the far corner spot but opens it to reveal stacks of nice clothes.

"These are all of the things that the Augustines no longer wanted. They either grew out of them, as in Martin's case, ruined them or simply didn't want them anymore. The Baron told me to throw them out but I just couldn't do it."

"You're holding out on me, woman," Simon attempts to give her a disapproving look like Benedict.

"You, on the other hand, have had no need for such clothes. What would you do—wear a silk overcoat into the forest to chop wood?" She chastises while searching through a few piles, before pulling out some things, "These will fit you. Try them on."

Simon takes the clothes that are handed to him and waits for the old woman to hobble out of the room. Once alone, he slips them on. Myrtle was right, they do fit and she knows Simon well because she picked out the more simple items from the pile. The brown riding pants are much like the ones he wears every day, but the material is much softer. The stiff fabric falls neatly around his muscular legs, stopping mid-calf. The muslin shirt has a higher thread count than his normal attire and the silk vest is cut well against his slender frame. He stares at himself in the mirror, amazed at what the clothing can do to his normally shabby appearance.

"Now, if only you didn't smell," Myrtle' voice comes from the door way.

He turns to her, "I don't have time—if you can give me a bar of soap I'll bathe in the pond."

...

Timber has to lope alongside of Lady to keep up. Occasionally he glances at Simon, as if to express his confusion about his attire and hurry. While they have to slowly navigate the narrow passage to the hidden pond, Simon makes short work of stripping off his clothes and diving into the frigid water. He lathers up the soap, hastily washing everything twice.

Opposite of the waterfall that feeds the pond is a small cluster of boulders that form a shallow cave, only as deep as Simon is tall. He climbs out near the cave, stashing the soap for future use. He tries to walk slowly back to Lady, to give himself time to air dry but he can't contain his excitement and he gets dressed while still half wet. Bending over, he shakes his hands through his hair to get rid of excess water, before carefully combing it the way that Myrtle told him to. He mounts Lady and together the trio makes their way to the top of the meadow, just under the large willow tree.

He looks off into the distance where he can see a tiny white horse with a cloaked figure slowly making its way down the path from town. His palms begin to sweat as he nervously takes off Lady's saddle, Timber watching curiously a few lengths away in the shade. Simon pats her on the neck before draping the saddle over a fallen log that he has yet to cut up. Carefully he sits next to it, trying to make himself appear as casual as possible.

The horse grows closer; Simon can now see Lia but not yet make out the details of her face. She looks around, unable to see him until he stands and slowly waves his arm. As she makes her way up the hill, his stomach churns nervously, causing him to feel like he will vomit.

"Hello, Mr. Simon," she says quietly, drawing her horse to a halt in front of him.

He grabs a hold of the bridle, steadying the horse so that she can dismount, "Good morrow, Miss Lia."

Gracefully she gets off of the horse. She has to stand on her tip toes to unbuckle a basket from the back of the saddle, "If you would be so kind as to see to my horse, I shall get prepared."

"Prepared for what?" His voice is calm and smooth, despite his anxiety. He pets the steed on the nose.

She smiles warmly at him, "Lunch," then walks towards the shade.

Simon breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that he didn't say anything terribly stupid the day before, to piss her off. He whistles for Lady, taking the saddle off of Lia's horse while his trots over. He unsnaps one end of the steed's rein, clipping it to Lady's bridle. The white horse looks a little confused but hesitantly follows Lady as she leads him off to the meadow.

Lia's saddle is intricately tooled, a rather beautiful piece of work. He carries it back towards her, setting it next to his on the log, catching the concerned look on her face as she unpacks the basket onto the large blanket she spread out.

"They will come back, won't they?"

"Yes, Miss Lia. Lady is practically a member of the family. She would sit in my lap if she could manage it." He carefully sits down in a void that she left for him, "So what is all of this for?"

Delicately sitting with her legs to her side, she assembles a sandwich unlike anything he has ever seen, "Why, for saving my life, Mr. Simon. It is the least I can do to thank you."

She hands over creation, topped with vegetables and spreads that are unknown to him. He takes it carefully.

"You are welcome. I would say that I'd do it again in a heartbeat but hopefully I won't ever have to." He bites into it, the flavors exploding in his mouth.

She busies herself with another creation, "I should like to know, Mr. Simon, to whom I truly owe my thanks to. It isn't entirely proper, me not knowing your surname..."

He uses the excuse of chewing to contemplate his answer. His true surname, Wright, would be lost on her as the Wrights have long since past. While he despises the Baron, using his surname would possibly give him an advantage; she wouldn't think that he was a servant with no fortune, "Simon...Augustine, at your service, ma'am."

She freezes instantly, slowly looking up to him, "As in, the Baron Augustine?"

Simon keeps his face steady, though he instantly regrets his choice, "Yes, the Baron is my," he tries not to cringe at the word, "father."

"You are Martin and Garrett's brother? They have never mentioned you before. You don't look much like them," she looks as if she regrets coming to see him.

"No, I don't. In fact I am not like them in any way. A bit of a black sheep, actually," he tries to smile warmly at her, "They more or less ignore me. I think that—father," he catches himself almost saying 'the Baron,' "is a bit embarrassed of me and my lack of desire for...social advancement, if you know what I mean. Do you know them well? They have never mentioned a Lia before...surely, had they described you in all of your beauty, I would have remembered."

Lia looks slightly relieved, her cheeks flushing at the compliment but still remains cautious, "Yes, I have met them several times. I can't say that I entirely...appreciate all of their qualities. You didn't happen to say anything about our...meeting, yesterday?"

Simon chuckles, trying to stifle it when he sees the genuinely concerned look on her face, "Trust me, Miss Lia, the last thing I would share with those vultures would be the fact that I happened to meet the most stunning woman in all of Northhill. All three of them would have followed me and tried to steal your company for themselves," he smiles genuinely at her, watching her cheeks burn bright at the compliment, "Though a secret can only work if both ends are kept," he adds.

She nibbles delicately on her sandwich, clearly relieved, "You have my word, Mr. Simon, that I shall not unveil our meetings with anyone."

"Likewise. Please, call me Simon. There is no need for formality with me, ma'am."

"All right Simon, but then you must call me Lia."

He finishes the last bite of his sandwich, making sure to completely swallow before responding, "As you wish, Lia. Now, how is it that you have had the ill fortune of knowing my family?"

Now it is she who laughs slightly. Carefully she unwraps a block of cheese and slices a thick chunk off, handing it to Simon, "I am, upon occasion, forced into strategically planned events of the Baron's."

"Ha, yes, that sounds like my father's manipulative ways."

"How is it that I have never met you before, Simon?"

He shifts uneasily, "I don't particularly enjoy going to town. In fact, I don't think that I have been since I was six or seven years old. I would much rather spend my time out here, in the vast countryside."

She looks at him curiously, "Since you were seven? What is it that so occupies your time out here? A woman, perhaps?" she adds quietly, "A child?" Though she pretends to busy herself with unpacking some more food, handing several items to Simon which he takes thankfully, he catches her watching him from the corner of her eye.

He bites into a peach, savoring the foreign flavor, eyeing her carefully. She seems to be feeling him out, but for what, he cannot tell. "No, Lia. None of those."

"Oh?" she tries to say casually, glancing up to find him staring at her. She tries to look away but she gets caught up in his golden green eyes.

"If you must know, I have no one. Save Lady and Timber—my horse and the wolf. They are my only true companions. You must excuse my manners, I have never before been around a lady such as yourself."

"What do you mean?" There is an edge to her voice.

He shrugs, chewing another bite before speaking, "Someone so beautiful and elegant; a woman that carries herself such as you surely has to be someone important. Perhaps the daughter of a Duke or a Count?"

Her soft smile seems reassured of something, "Something like that. But social rank has little to do with true companionship. I have to say Simon that I feel you are the first person to compliment me whom I have actually believed to mean it. Will you answer me something, honestly?"

Nodding, he stops eating to give her his undivided attention.

"Did you save me because I was a beautiful lady? Would you have done the same for someone of less fortune?"

"To be honest with you, Lia, I didn't know you were such until just before I jumped in," his breath gets caught in his throat as he gazes upon her face, "Though I must say, I am glad that you are."

Her smile fades, "What? Beautiful?"

"A lady." Both of them burst into laughter. Between gasps, he continues, "Honestly, I thought you were a man until I saw that you had a dress on. I didn't see your face until I caught you the first time."

"Oh Simon," she finally gets herself under control, "you truly are like no one I have ever met. It is a shame that you do not come to town more often, I would like to get to know you better."

Simon stares into her eyes, heart swooning. While he is enjoying the fact that the Augustines are preoccupied with town for the next week and he is left alone, a sadness creeps into his heart that he has missed out on such opportunities, like getting to know someone as wonderful as Lia.

"What is it, Simon?" she queries.

"Mmm, yes. Well I am sad to say that due to the Princess' Ball, my brothers and father will be spending most of the week in town but I shall not be."

"Oh, you've heard of the Ball? Will you be attending?"

"No," he shakes his head, laughing almost as if the question itself was absurd, "no, that is a venue for people like Martin and Garrett."

With a confused look, Lia slightly cocks her head to the side, "Why ever not? Everyone is invited."

He recalls the beating he got from the Baron last night, the rage he felt against his step-brothers, "Well the whole thing is just rather ridiculous, the idea of a ball. What is the point, really, of getting dressed up and dancing around in circles with people just as pompous and shallow as my father and brothers?"

"I don't understand," her voice is soft, a hurt look on her face, "the Princess has said she will pick someone from the attendees as her groom. Surely, you wouldn't subject her to such a fate as ending up with someone like Martin or Garrett, would you?"

The horses wander back towards them. Lady, comfortable around Simon, lays down next to the saddles in the shade while Lia's steed remains standing. Simon doesn't know why she is upset, or why she is so adamant about dragging out the subject and most of all, he doesn't know what to say to make her happy, "It isn't as if she would ever pick me Lia, nor would I want her to. I don't know the woman but what I do know is that Martin, Garrett and my father are all interested in her, which is enough to tell me that she is exactly like them. Frankly, I hope she does chose one of my brothers so that they will all move to the castle and leave me be."

What he did say, was the wrong thing. He can see tears start to well up in her eyes.

"Right," she barely is able to whisper while she gets to her feet, "I should be getting back to town. I would hate to intrude on your time alone." Lia swiftly walks to her horse. She unclasps his lead and wraps it around the tree branch. She grabs the saddle blanket and puts it on the horse, upside down. Though she grabs the saddle and tries to put it on, she isn't strong enough to lift it up onto the horse's back and only manages to get it half way before she gives up.

Simon scrambles to his feet, "Come now, you're doing it wrong. Besides, you will probably hurt yourself," he says softly, taking the saddle from her hands. He can see that her face is wet from tears; then, it occurs to him that perhaps she wanted him to take her to the ball.

"Thank you again, Mr. Simon, for saving me yesterday," though she is facing him, she doesn't look into his eyes.

He is at a loss as to what to do. Simon sets the saddle on the ground and before he can think better of it, he grasps Lia by the biceps. Shocked, she finally looks at him. Closing the gap between them, he plants his lips tenderly on hers. She gasps a little, undoubtedly shocked by his forwardness but soon she melts into him, deepening the kiss. Though he doesn't want to, Simon is forced to pull away to catch his breath.

"I don't want to go to the ball, on the off chance that the Princess might actually choose me, because then I could not marry you, Lia."

She chokes slightly on a sob, tears continuing to flow though she forces a smile.

"I mean—if there were a chance to marry you, if we got to know each other and both loved each other enough to-" he stops, knowing that he's fumbled too much with his words. He tries new ones, "If you would have me, Lia, I should like to escort you to the ball."

This time, she lets out a joyful giggle. She wipes away her tears, "Well, Simon, how do I know you can even dance?"

He laughs, glad that he fixed the situation and glad that he has made his feelings clear. Gracefully, he tucks his left arm behind his back, extending his right hand forward while bowing, "In that case, Lia, may I have this dance."

"Yes, you may," she laughs in turn, providing a small curtsey before taking his hand.

Simon tries to remember the posture his mother taught him. It was a long time ago and he was much smaller then, so he isn't entirely sure if he is doing it right but he toughs it out and leads Lia in a turn around the shade. She smiles cheerfully.

As they come to a halt, he is nervous about her reaction, "Well, how did I do?"

"Good," she smiles, "but...perhaps a few small changes?"

"Of course."

She shifts his arm higher up onto her back, pushing his elbow out into the air. Clasping his other hand higher, she steps a few inches closer and nods for him to try again. While he is leading her about, she comments, "My teacher always said that if it is uncomfortable, it is correct. Who taught you, the Baron?"

He shakes his head, replying with a slightly sad smile, "No, my mother. It was years ago before she died. I'm afraid I haven't had any practice since then."

"Oh, I'm so sorry Simon. She would be proud of you, you remembered a lot. You are a natural."

They come to a stop again and this time Simon bows while Lia curtseys, "Thank you, Miss Lia, for the dance." He extends his hand and when she places hers into it, he kisses it softly. He doesn't let go.

"You are quite welcome," Lia finds herself getting lost in his eyes again. They draw near to each other. Simon rests his forehead against hers.

"I wish you and I could just stay here forever, Lia. I do not want this moment to end. Must you go?"

She purses her lips in a frown, "Sadly, I must. Please don't think less of me, Simon, but I sort of...snuck out of town. My father is really rather controlling. That is why I tried to run away yesterday, which was the wrong thing I now know but if I hadn't I wouldn't have met you."

"You're such a lawbreaker," he playfully says, "you aren't ashamed of me, are you?" Though he intended it to be a joke, he catches himself wondering if his lack of manners would cause her to think otherwise.

"Heavens no—I just can't exactly say, 'Father, yesterday while I was to running away, two men tried to kidnap me. Anyhow, a most wonderful man named Simon saved me and I have been sneaking out of town to see him alone, without a chaperone.' It wouldn't go very well, you see."

He chuckled, "Yes, I suppose it wouldn't."

"But I do want you to meet him. If you will escort me to the ball—I could introduce you to him then. Is that satisfactory?"

"Of course, Lia, whatever you wish," he kisses her gently on the cheek, finally letting go so that he can saddle her horse while she packs up the picnic. He is glad to do it however, so that he can have a moment away from her watching eyes to attempt to gather himself. Not only did he lie to her, it will come back to bite him. Surely her father will know that the Baron doesn't have three sons and once he finds out that Simon is no more than a glorified butler...but he yearns to be around her so. Clasping the final buckle, he draws in a deep breath to come clean—only to be cut off by Lia.

"I have a singing lesson tomorrow morning, but if you were still around tomorrow, say midafternoon...around three?" She asks it in such a way that makes Simon believe she's worried about inconveniencing him.

Turning around, he catches her watching him work but she tries to pretend like she wasn't looking. He kneels down in front of her and takes a hold of her hands, "Honestly, Lia, if you told me three in the morning I would be here at midnight, waiting with anticipation. You say the time, I am at your disposal. I will take every minute that you can give me."

Her face burns red and she tries to smother a grin, "You flatter me so, Simon. Would you take the rest of this food as your afternoon snack? Also, please take this," she hands him a good sized cylindrical object wrapped in paper, tied shut with a neat twine bow, "there is a wonderful foreign baker in town. I had meant to share in desert with you but as it is I who must run it shall be I who misses out."

"Of course, Lia. Thank you for the wonderful lunch, it was truly like nothing I had ever had before."

She rises, rolling the blanket before handing it to Simon. He buckles it back onto the saddle just underneath the basket before turning to her, "I fear it will seem a little silly for me to say this but it shall feel like an eternity until tomorrow afternoon." His arm drifts up, gently brushing her hair to the side so that he can run the back of his hand down her cheek.