4: The Hospitality of Addilyn & Finnegan Holt

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Two Days Later

The ghastly, ill-proportioned caricature at the top left corner of the parchment looked remarkably human... all but for the protruding, curling horns stemming from his crown. Other than his likeness represented as such, the parchment contained details of his height, species, a simple and concise description of his appearance, and a one sentence allotment for a personal credo or incentive that in all likelihood was meant to attract the attention of a lady.

It did not.

In fact, most of them served as a deterrent.

Millie let out a long breath through her nose and set the wooden tablet, that had the magical bit of parchment clipped neatly to the top edge, on the escritoire she was sitting at.

The townhouse of Mrs Addilyn Holt was not resplendent, but it was serviced, compact and comfortable. It was more than Millie could have asked for after spending the last day and a half submerged in the large sewage pipes that intercepted the Thames, the filthy alleys and narrow streets of slum areas where her presence and odour would go the least noticed. The moment Theo had marked her disappearance, he had alerted London's guards. The fact that a notorious lady was missing was not an event that would easily be looked over and the streets had soon flooded with papers and pamphlets- all carrying the depiction of her likeness sketched onto the parchments, all promising huge rewards for her safe return from her 'devastated' guardian, Theo Adams.

It would have been easy enough to evade the grasp of human men- Millie was fast and strong, having spent years of her youth absorbed in physical exertions on her father's massive estate and grounds in Ravensfield. She knew how to wield a pistol and she wouldn't be averse to using a dagger or blade of some sort should she come across one, but she was devoid of any weapon.

And the guards had Other hounds- massive, furless slate-skinned beasts that resembled dogs in some ways but whose scent abilities far expounded those of any normal canine, being of fae descent. Their particular abilities had soon been discovered and utilized soon after The Reveal, at the behest and convenience of humankind and therefore under no persecution for the usage of the supernatural canines. Millie had taken Grover's advice and skidded down the nearest embankment, immersing herself in filth that she couldn't dwell long thinking about lest her bile surge to the back of her throat again from the memory.

In the end, it was while she had picked up a paper on the filthy streets in East London's slums that she had found the advertisement- right beside her image on the front page- that had read: Mrs Addilyn's Anxious Hearts Society: For a mere two shillings per annum, a selection of human and supernatural species at your fingertips for perusal- simply choose your desired partner and we'll do the rest! Fine print: all participating clientele need be of sentient capabilities. Extremely finer print: payment made upfront.

Millie needed a husband, any husband, and the peculiar matchmaking service seemed like an answer to her prayers. Hell, it had even been placed directly beside her likeness in the societal papers- what more of a sign did she need?

She had been recognised almost immediately when she had located and entered the townhouse where Mrs Addilyn conducted her business and before she could explain her presence, or anything really, she was ushered upstairs into a guest chamber, made to bath (three times, considering how caked and layered in filth she was) and provided with a few items of personal clothing from Mrs Addilyn herself.

And that was how she found herself presently, encased in a soft robe that was a few sizes too big for her, freshly bathed, and perusing the contents of the AAHS matchmaking portfolio. The tablet seemed to be of a magical nature, for should Millie find one of the males depicted acceptable, she need only check mark the page with her quill. The ink would disappear as if absorbed into the very threads of the paper. Moments later, should the male find her file mutually acceptable, the number of the profile would appear on the wood of the tablet behind the page clipped to it.

There was no name given to her, no further depiction or communication- the process ensured complete anonymity other than for what information was provided by Mrs Addilyn on each client file.

An intriguing concept to be sure, and Millie inclined her body towards the discarded tablet once more. Mrs Addilyn Holt must have parted ways with precious coin in order to pay for such a service, though it was clear from the threadbare furnishings of her townhouse that business was not thriving.

Millie studied the cartoonish depiction of the male on the page once more, her eyes drawn to the horns protruding from dark, flowing hair.

Species: Other- faeborn

Height: 6'4

Appearance: Handsome, horns, tan-skin

Client's note: My horns aren't the biggest part of me.

Lord. Millie rolled her eyes and glared at the ceiling. Evidently, repugnance was a trait that transferred from all species of male and not just the human ones. She marked this file with a hard X and the ink disappeared, the entire page shifting and writhing, transforming into a new client.

The notion of acquiring an Other, a faeborn, as a husband was unheard of and she could not be sure how she felt about such a thing, though she hardly had means to object. Such a union was not illegal, though it was frowned upon in lofty human circles, and though the two societies had been merged for as long as Millie could remember, there were lingering prejudices that prevailed among her kind. Were she to wed one of the faeborn, or any other species that fell under the wide umbrella of the Others, she knew her reception into society as the Duchess of Ravensfield would be subject to slander and opposition.

It would have to be a fight she considered carefully, one she would need to resolve herself to justify even now, for it was becoming increasingly obvious with each hour that passed that she needed to hasten her plan. And it simply came down to the knowledge that she would not have a legal claim to what was rightfully hers without a marriage certificate, and for that she would need a husband.

Millie was furious for it, yet she continued to take solace in her ire, in the vengeful rage that was simmering just below the surface and held feebly in check. Bereft, all that was precious to her snatched away like toys from a spoilt child, she held on to her anger lest she cave to the self-pity that was teetering precariously closer to the edge of her volatile and tumultuous emotions.

Later, she vowed, she would grieve. Later, she would wallow. For now, she resolved to be proactive. When next she faced Theo, she needed her voice and a husband, though both would serve as mere catalysts in order to claim back Ravensfield. If she had to take a faeborn male as her spouse, then so be it. She had not the time, nor the means, to be overly picky. And her hosts would no doubt expect payment soon and she had not a shilling to her name presently, holding on to the hopes that Addilyn would place worth in the promise of an heir of a dukedom on the lam.

And so far, the only males she had been examining on the tablet before her were faeborn, leaving her with little else to choose from.

Could she endure a husband with horns? The notion seemed... so utterly foreign to her, an abnormality that she would need to mentally unchain herself from. Admittedly though, she was less put off by his horns that by his own personally worded inference regarding them.

The new file before her caught her attention once more and she flicked her gaze over the page.

Species: Other- faeborn

Height: 3'4"

Millie's mouth dropped open, her gaze darting to the male's caricature at the top left. Huge, feathery antennae dominated the square his tiny, comical face peered through.

Appearance: small, winged, green

Client's Note: I may be small, but I have a massive... personality.

If she could have made a sound of disgust, she would have. Instead, she hastily scribed a very large X over the rather insectile species caricature, the ink dissolving and shifting in that same entrancing manner as before.

The next profile shifted and transformed on the page, but before Millie could properly scrutinise the new content, Addilyn Holt entered her chamber with a soft knock.

Her heart lurched and an utterly strange sensation compelled to look at the tablet again, to rivet her gaze upon it instead of the woman sauntering towards her with an amiable smile on her lovely face.

Millie ignored the unnerving sensation, homing her attention on her host instead. Addilyn Holt could not be much older than herself, with feathery soft dark blonde hair that wisped and curled about her heart-shaped face with a touch of whimsy that made her quite innocent to behold. The notion was rather absurd considering the woman owned and managed an unorthodox matchmaking service and though Millie had never heard of her before, she knew that Addilyn would be scorned in her own high-ranking societal circles. She was shorter than Millie by at least a head, though Millie was considerably taller than most women of her acquaintance, and sported a rather curvaceous figure.

"How are you getting on, dear?" Addilyn queried, her eyes kind and soft as she scanned over Millie's appearance. "Ah, I see you are much better off after a severe scrubbing. Goodness, I can certainly see who you are now."

The smile that tilted her lips was one of aloof politeness, ingrained within her through years of schooling and tutelage in propriety. The last thing Millie felt like doing right then was conversing, especially since she could not.

"It seems like you've been through quite the ordeal," Addilyn pressed on. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining a bit more to me, though I am sure you have your reasons for not finding the nearest authorities to report your whereabouts and return yourself into your cousin's care. You must understand, a woman such as myself, with a business to think of and a reputation to build, can't be too careful about such things."

Stifling a sigh, Millie conceded that she was right. She did owe her hosts at least somewhat of an explanation. By containing her and withholding her identity from Theo, they were jeopardising themselves. For while she was powerless, Millie had very little authority or control to extend her protection over any of them.

She opened her mouth as if to speak and promptly shut it again, frustration lining her brow and pulling her mouth down into a self-deprecating scowl.

"Oh, that's right. You've lost your voice." Addilyn moved forward quickly to the escritoire Millie was sitting by and pulled open one of the drawers. From within she retrieved a fresh page of vellum and lay it flat on the surface of the wooden desk. "Please, if you will."

Setting aside the tablet, Millie felt that insurgent tug once more to lay her eyes upon the new profile it had conjured, but she resisted yet. With the same quill she had been using to mark each page on the tablet, she wrote out a hasty explanation: My cousin, Theo, has somehow laid claim to my inheritance. He intends to prevent me from ever having a claim to it and barred me in my chambers, prisoner. She attempted to write words to explain the nature of the curse that had befallen her, but her fingers refused to form the letters. She struggled for several moments, but quickly relented. The futility of endeavouring to break free from the bonds of the enchantment that withheld her voice and withheld her dispelling the nature of how she came about her muteness was something Millie did not have the stamina to face at that moment. I need a husband to claim what is rightfully mine, and soon. Though I do not wish to endanger you and your husband, your hospitality and kindness will be repaid tenfold upon my succession.

Addilyn perused the missive with a small frown before locating another wooden stool from the other end of the chamber, dragging it to a position beside Millie. There she sat and smiled widely. "My dear, my services for such an instance are entirely free of charge," she explained, her voice an excited hush. "You would be quite my most prominent client, if you choose to do so. Should you only but mention my services once your marriage has been finalised, I am sure you can understand how it would effect my business."

A rueful smile quirked her lips but Millie nodded slowly. She would happily inform anybody who enquired, even those who did not, that it was Mrs Addilyn's Anxious Hearts Society that found her husband... and by the looks of it, a very faeborn husband.

It would circulate the press for weeks, that titillating piece of news. The Duchess of Ravensfield marrying an Other.

It was unheard of. Taboo.

"That is all that I ask," Addilyn said. "Finn and I will keep you safe until you acquire what you seek."

Her words caused Millie to scribe out the next sentence as quickly as she could, her normally fastidious handwriting almost an indecipherable mess in her haste. An abundance of time I have not. I must marry tomorrow, or as soon as I am able.

"Tomorrow?" The other woman's eyes were wide and incredulous. "That would be impossible unless you intend to marry under the oath of the faeborn-"

Millie hesitated imperceptibly before nodding vigorously, thereby sealing her fate. Again, that same compelling urge to glance at the tablet she was heretofore ignoring tugged at her mind, as if a wickedly curved hook had embedded into her flesh and ever so often reminded her of its presence with a gentle tug in the tablet's direction.

"Oh." Addilyn's mouth hung open for mere moments as the realisation of the import of Millie's decision dawned own her countenance. "Oh. Well... you will certainly be causing a stir then, won't you? I must say, I am rather intrigued and pleased by your unbiased sentiments. I have been working closely with Others for some years now and... well, I have met some remarkable individuals." She smiled secretively then, leaning forward to peer at the tablet Millie set aside. "Have you acquired any connections thus far?"

She couldn't help the dry glance she gave Addilyn as she collected the tablet from where it lay on the table. Her eyes switched to the page and before she had even begun to read the contents that therein lay, her heart galloped unevenly in her chest. The sensation was peculiar and rendered her near breathless, even as she ran her eyes over the file. His caricature was remarkably normal in depiction, even if the proportions were somewhat exaggerated- a human face with a sharp, angularly lined jaw and a heavily shadowed brow. From the sketch, his hair was dark and mane-like in volume. Of all the caricatures she had viewed, this male's was decidedly more human than the others, though it was stated that he was not.

Species: Other- faeborn

Height: 6'6

Appearance: Draëllian

Client's note: -

Draëllian was not a word or species she was familiar with and she frowned at the implication. Perhaps the scales covering his body were not visibly depicted in the caricature? Perhaps the mucus secreting nodes running down his spine were particular to whatever a Draëllian was.

Millie shuddered at the mental image even if she was unequivocally and curiously drawn to this profile. And he had not left some inane and insinuating comment to infer about his prowess, which was better than if he had said anything, she thought.

Absently, her fingertips ran lightly over the edge of the frame that contained his ill-formed likeness, her skin tingling against the grains of the paper.

"Oh, that's strange," Addilyn murmured, peering down at the tablet Millie now held in her lap. She glanced up at Addilyn sharply, a question on her face. "I was not aware he was a client. It is... odd. I would never expect... hmm."

Millie tapped the page with a tapered nail, a silent appeal for Addilyn to explain further. She found herself starving for details about the stranger on the paper before her, eager to pounce upon any scrap that she was tossed. It earned her a speculatively curious look from her new companion.

"Have you made his connection?" she asked slowly.

Without hesitation, Millie checked the page, wondering absently at the anticipation she felt as she waited for the ink to swirl and disappear and the number to appear ingrained into the back of the wooden tablet. Slowly, as if seared by tiny branding iron, the digits 088 appeared behind the parchment. A grin of relief swept across her face and she beamed at the woman beside her.

"How very... interesting." Addilyn rapped her fingers against the wood of the escritoire, her brow puckered in thought. "I find this rather curious, I'll admit. I am unable to speak frankly now about this match and this male, though I believe Finn will have to seek him out for further enquiry in order to set up a meeting. I do not think he resides-" she snapped her mouth shut and Millie realised she had caught herself from revealing too much about the man. It was clear Addilyn took her clients' anonymity very seriously, though right then Millie rather wished she wouldn't. Smoothing her skirts, Addilyn rose to her feet swiftly. "Acquire more connections, Lady Ravensfield. We may find this one a problem in which case I shouldn't like you to be without options come tomorrow. I'll set about organising the afternoon social for you, and coordinating the presence of all your suitors to adjoin for evaluation within the first appraisals. Right now, you should rest as I am positive you have been through an ordeal most of us would not have survived."

The cheerful exterior of Mrs Addilyn Holt had suddenly been replaced with an officiousness that was startling in its change. Millie watched her leave and though she had been averse to converse with the woman before, she found herself mildly intrigued by her now and rather thought that one day she should like to know more about her.

One day, she resolved, she would extend a hand of friendship to Addilyn Holt.

And she turned her attention back to the tablet, her thoughts distant and lingering on unpleasant events as she began to mark the pages of the profiles that swirled and changed before her. In the end, four more numbers appeared underneath 088, but truthfully it was only the first that she was most intrigued about.

Her heart gave an unfamiliar tug and thud once more, reminding her of the sensation earlier.

The feeling terrified her.