Midnight Blue

The warm lights spilling from the rooms, the sounds of happy chatter and light music. The brickwork of the Victorian-era mansion was illuminated by lawn lights and the men and women dressed in all their finery looking splendid stood around smoking and making small talk.

All signs of a party in full swing, the man hosting the celebration was currently schmoozing politicians and judges whilst his servants keep their dates topped up with wine and good food.

The lady of the house was listening to the daughters and wives of these important men swooning over gossip of a new bachelor currently socialising in the drawing room. Most people would never think to suspect these two of anything illicit but there were those who knew what they got up to when no one was around to hear them. People that found being in their pocket to be much more beneficial than standing around being clueless, or perhaps worse; standing in their way.

Of all the people that were at this party, quite noticeably there were two absent bodies.

In the south wing of the mansion, a part off limits to all bar the host’s family, a young girl came out a room and looked around to make sure no one had seen her go in.

The other absent body was that of a young boy. He also found himself wandering the southern wing, looking for the young girl. When he saw her come out of the room on the far end he hurried towards her. Her back was to him and so she neither saw nor heard him approach.

“Ari, what are you doing up here?” He asked as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

Ari jumped and turned to face her big brother, “I wanted to find Grandfather. I don’t like it downstairs Wesley. ‘M so tired.” She said, rubbing her eyes as if to prove this statement.

“You know he doesn’t stay up long at these parties, he will probably be asleep by now.” Wesley took his little sister’s hand and walked slowly back towards the party with her. “Mother and father insist that we stay up at these parties. After all they want us to take on the responsibilities of their achievements when we are old enough.”

“I promise to stay awake but you have to promise to stay by my side. The strange smelling man they always invite was talking to me again. I don’t like when he talks to me, he asks me things that mother wouldn’t find proper…”

Wesley felt his blood boil that this pig dared to speak to his sister in such a manner, he might only be 6 years old but he had inherited his father’s temper. He would be having words with his father about this man the next day, if his father knew about this then Wesley would be most unimpressed but if not then he would demand this man never received an invite again or he was at least kept far away from Arietta during these parties.

Even once they were back downstairs and in the main throng of the party, Wesley never let go of his little sister’s hand.

None of the other guests had brought their children, not that Arietta and Wesley got along with them when they were there, leaving the siblings with no choice but to wander the rooms of their home with no one to talk to but each other. This didn’t bother either of them in the slightest though given that they were nigh inseparable most days.

Their parent’s guests would sometimes stop them and make idle conversation. The two were always polite and would speak with them, showing no obvious signs that they hated them. Most often they were stopped by the women and told how adorable they looked walking hand in hand. Wesley would be told that his crisp white shirt, bowtie and waistcoat made him the most handsome little boy they had ever seen and Arietta, in her light blue dress and elbow length white gloves, was such a beautiful little thing.

 When they were stopped by the men, more often than not it was Wesley that was spoken too. Arietta was okay with this though because it meant that she could remain in her brother’s shadow and not have to talk. She didn’t understand the business of her father but she knew that these men, who were supposed to be good and honest, were ignorant and corrupt.

After another hour of idle chatter and directionless walking, Arietta began to yawn again. Wesley was tired too but stubbornly suppressed each yawn. He decided it would be best to find their mother and get her permission to let Arietta go to bed. It didn’t take long to find her, in the kitchen surrounded by young women and retelling a story that they had probably heard numerous times before that night but no one had the courage to interrupt her. Wesley however marched straight through the gathering and coughed.

“Ahem, Mother.”

Mae Wesley was a tall and too slim woman with blonde hair and green eyes. Tonight that blonde hair was perfectly coiffed and she was dressed in a tasteful red dress that clung to her curves. Or it would if she had any, instead it just hung there slightly loose.

She looked down at her son, “James, a gentleman should never interrupt a lady.”

“I know that mother but Arietta is very tired. I think it would be best that she went to bed.” He told her, the relationship between mother and son was tense at best. Not that any of the other guests noticed, all they saw was a young gentleman looking after his little sister. A few seconds passed where Mae looked from Wesley to Arietta.

“You know the rules, the night is almost finished. She can go to bed then.”

“Mother, I don’t mean to be rude…” Of course he did but it wouldn’t do to let these people see past the smoke and mirrors that the family had so carefully placed, “However, it is already one o’clock in the morning.”

Wesley didn’t need to add that it wasn’t healthy for a six year old to be made to stay up so late, never mind a four year old.

Mae Wesley pressed her lips into a thin line, Wesley knew full well that his mother didn’t like to be challenged like this but the guests surrounding them would work in Wesley’s favour for tonight.

“Very well. Take her to her room and see that she gets to sleep but I want to see you back down here again when she is asleep young man.”

It had been an attempt at sounding stern but Wesley ignored it, in fact he wanted to laugh it off. His mother was not the enforcer in this household, despite what she liked to believe.

“Yes mother.”

He turned Arietta around and walked her back through the rooms filled with guests and upstairs. When they were back up in the south wing he looked down and smiled at his little sister.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He said as he pushed open the door to Arietta’s room.

The room was not like any of the others on the other wings. Each room on the south wing had been individually decorated to suit the person it belonged to. Arietta’s room was painted a peach tone with depictions of different beautiful women. Both from the arts and from history. If Arietta would have had her way, it would have been painted the same colour but it would have depictions of America’s greatest boxers and their victories. Alas, this would never be allowed by their father nor their mother. One believed that boxing was not ladylike and the other thought her fascination with boxing was one that she would grow out of. It was an unfortunate truth that neither Wesley nor Arietta had much of a say in the course of their life.

If you discount the decor, it had all the same things in it as any of the other bedrooms all over the mansion. It had a bed big enough for six, a dresser and wardrobe big enough to fit all of the clothes in Bloomingdales childswear department and still leave yet more space. There was a bookcase with ornaments, old tomes, newer works, fact and fiction alike. A toy chest sat at the foot of Arietta’s bed, in any other room it would hold linen and towels. The room had an en suite with a large free standing bath, a separate shower enclosed by glass sliding doors, toilet and wash basin. It was into this room that Arietta took her pyjamas to get changed.

When she came back into the bedroom she found Wesley sitting in the chair that stayed by her bedside so that either Wesley or their grandfather could tell her a story before she settled down for the night. Tonight it would not take much for Arietta to fall asleep. It had been a long and tiring day, she was more than ready to sleep but she also didn’t really want Wesley to leave her.

“Wesley.” She said as she crawled under the covers of her bed.

“Yes, Ari?”

“Tell me about why mummy and daddy always make us hide our wrists again.”

“You know why Arietta.”

“Yes but I don’t want you to go just yet and I like how you tell it better than when mummy or daddy explain it.”

Wesley smiled, it was difficult for him to say no to Arietta. He cared deeply for his little sister, his mother said he always had. Ever since the day she was brought home. That even though he himself was only two at the time, he played with her and smiled when he could make her laugh.

“Very well. Are you comfortable?” He asked and tucked the sides of her duvet under the mattress to keep all the warmth from escaping out during the night.

“Mhmm.”

“Mother and father ask us to hide our wrists because no one is supposed to see what is written on them.”

“But we don’t have anything written on our wrists.” She said, as she had done many times before.

“No, we don’t. That is because we are special. Everyone at birth is given the name of their soulmate. It is marked on their wrists and no one but the mother and two soul mates should ever see it. However, there are some people who are the exception to the rule. For example some people get two names imprinted on their wrist. This is usually because the first soul mate will die before the other can find them. Then there are some people, even less than those that have two names, that do not get a name on their wrist. This doesn’t mean we don’t have a soulmate, or that our soulmate does not have our name on their wrist. It just means that… Well, I don’t know what it means but we have to hide our wrists because people with no names on their wrist are often hunted and hurt. People are often scared of what they do not understand and because there is no explanation for why some people have no names, it ignites a fear in others.

We come from a long line of unmarked people. Father has no name upon his wrist but mother still found him. She has his name on her wrist. We are special, Arietta. Never forget that.”

Arietta was already sound asleep by the time he spoke about people with two soulmates but Wesley had continued to talk anyway. It was something he wanted Arietta to always believe. It was something Wesley wished he believed.

Their father had not told him so nicely, their father had told him that he would be considered a freak and that if people knew then they would kill him. This was what he had been told at the tender age of three, when he was just old enough to understand. It was the same way for Arietta but Wesley told her this version as often as he could so that she didn’t have to live with the idea that she could never be accepted by society. It was a lot for two so young to be made to hear but Wesley was more than prepared to take on Arietta’s share of that burden.

“Good night Ari.” Wesley said as he leant over to lay a soft kiss on her forehead.

Wesley deliberately took his time returning to the party, making sure Arietta’s room was clean and that her clothes were folded neatly and placed on the chair where he had previously sat. He walked as slowly as he could along the hall of the wing and he would have taken at least another half an hour of simply wandering had his mother not marched up the stairs, the sharp click-click of her stiletto heels on the hardwood flooring a dead give away.

“What did I tell you James?” She said, still trying to sound stern but now her words faltered and slurred a little.

“To come straight back down when Arietta was asleep.”

“So what has taken you so long?”

“She wanted a story before she went to sleep and it took a while for her to settle down.”

“Don’t lie to me James, she was exhausted when you spoke to me.”

Wesley bit his tongue, he wanted to ask his mother why she thought that might be but he knew when to push his luck and when to stay quiet.

“That’s what I thought. Now back downstairs.” She told him and let him walk out in front of her.

They got back down to the party and she clicked away back to the gaggle of women she had been talking to before hand. Wesley sighed heavily and went in search of a waiter for a bit of cheese or something.

As he was looking he saw his father speaking to the man that had unnerved Arietta earlier that night. He clenched his fists and approached the pair.

“... It wouldn’t do for the docks to get too busy. People might ask questions.” Wesley heard the man tell his father.

At the sight of Wesley the man stopped talking and smiled down at him. If Wesley had remembered correctly this was one Mr. Taylor. Wesley returned a strained smile and looked to his father. “Good evening Father. Mr. Taylor.” He greeted them both.

“James, good evening. Where is your sister?” His father asked him.

“Mother gave her permission to go bed.”

“I see. Well at least she lasted most of the night. She is only four, she will get used to it soon enough.”

“That’s a shame, she and I were having quite a delightful discussion earlier. She will make a very polite young wife to someone someday.” Mr. Taylor interjected.

To hear such a repulsive man speak about his sister like she was just something to marry off, on top of knowing that he was making her feel uncomfortable in her own home, Wesley ground his teeth to stop him from calling the man out on his behaviour.

Thankfully his father stepped in, “Now Adam, you know as well as I do that women are no longer just wives.”

“More’s the pity.” Adam said.

“Father, can I speak with you? Privately.”

“Later James. Adam and I have business to discuss.”

Wesley closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. As he walked away he continued to control his breathing and he headed for his bedroom. Damn the consequences, he was going to bed.

His own bedroom was much like Arietta’s in it’s layout and design but the walls were a light shade of blue which always left the room feeling cold. Painted onto the walls were paintings of Captain America, meant to depict manliness and power. There were also paintings of powerful business men and a painted skyline of New York.

He changed out of his suit and tie, into pyjamas. He took a last look at his bare wrist and immediately wished he hadn’t. It only ever served to make him feel alone.