Chapter Text
Veronica did not return to bed until late in the evening, having absolutely devoured the first volume, only when McNamara gently coaxed her into retiring had she realized just how stiff she had gotten from sitting in the plush chair for so long. The walk back to her room was filled with a surprisingly pleasant silence, the only sounds echoing through those yawning hallways being the click of their heels.
McNamara carried a small teapot and cup with her, the wonderful aroma of the tea leaves already lulling Veronica into a sleepy repose. She covered her mouth as she tried yet again to stifle a yawn.
“My apologies for keeping you up so late, Ms. McNamara,” Veronica murmured, her voice thick with sleep, eyes heavy as exhaustion tugged at her. “I hadn’t realized how late it had become.”
McNamara shook her head, curls bouncing around her shoulders as she gave a soft, rueful chuckle. “It’s no trouble at all, Ms. Sawyer. I’ve grown used to late nights. The Countess… well, she has a way of losing herself in old scripts or other such tiresome things.”
Veronica offered a small, tired smile, but her gaze lingered on McNamara. Even when complaining about the Countess, her voice carried soft fondness, a warmth that Veronica could almost feel through the chill of the hall.
“How long have you worked for the Countess?” Veronica asked, voice thick with drowsiness. She wasn’t sure she’d remember the answer come morning, but curiosity pressed at her nonetheless.
McNamara’s smile turned cryptic, almost sad. “Oh… ages. I’ve known the Countess most of my life.”
Veronica paused, struck by the weight of that simple statement. “Truly? I wouldn’t have guessed, given your surname.”
McNamara’s eyes grew distant, her smile faint and thoughtful. “Because it’s Irish?” she asked, voice soft, almost a whisper. “My family… we traveled through Crimea when I was young. Merchants, moving with the seasons and the markets. But one winter… everything changed, during a skirmish between the Crimean army and some rebels. The village we had been staying in caught the brunt of their presence, the entire thing went up in flames, I was the only survivor.
McNamara took a moment, her hand trembling around the teapot. "I lost everything that day; my mother, my father, even my brother."
Veronica’s chest tightened. The memory of her own father’s death, still raw, pressed against her heart. “I… I know what it’s like,” she admitted quietly, her voice breaking slightly. “To lose someone and feel like the world… just keeps moving without you.”
McNamara’s gaze softened, and for a moment, Veronica saw the child she must have once been: small, shivering, alone. “It teaches you to survive,” McNamara said, almost gently, but with a weight that spoke of lessons learned too early. “And sometimes… it teaches you what to hold on to, and who to trust.” She turned her eyes to Veronica, the hall’s candlelight flickering across them. “I was lucky the Countess happened to be passing through the area when she was, she found me and gave me a place to stay. A new home."
They entered Veronica's room, McNamara setting the small porcelain cup down as he prepared to pour Veronica's tea.
"It sounds like providence, as if God made sure she was there for you." Veronica said softly, lifting her glasses to rub her tired eyes, missing how McNamara tensed for a moment.
"I don't believe God was anywhere near that place." She spoke, voice low and heavy.
Veronica flushed, stammering out an apology, but before she could voice her nervous ramblings McNamara gently slid the cup into her hands with a smile.
"Never you mind that, it's late, drink this and get some rest alright?" Her voice was soft and gentle, like she was coaxing a frightened cat from under a carriage. Veronica was grateful for it, if she were being honest.
Nodding she took a slow sip from the cup, letting the tea wash over her senses with a pleased sigh. "Thank you, Ms.McNamara, your kindness is truly a blessing."
McNamara gave her a curious look and tilted her head, that same odd cryptic smile gracing her lips.
"You needn't lean on your faith so much here, Ms.Sawyer, you're not in London anymore."
The soft words struck her in the chest like a hammer striking an anvil, stealing her breath and leaving her voiceless as she worked her jaw for something to say. To… defend?
McNamara stood fully, brushing her dress idly before looking back to the woman, leaning in she plucked her glasses off her face and folded them. Setting the glasses on the bedside table she retrieved the now empty cup and tipped her head.
Veronica watched in a stunned silence, still unable to provide some sort of response to the nigh blasphemous statement the woman had spoke so sweetly. McNamara grabbed the teapot and walked to the door, looking over her shoulder she smiled.
"You're safe here."
The way she said it made something curl in Veronica's stomach, it was meant to be a reassurance… so why did it sound like an afterthought, offered not as comfort but correction?
Morning came thin and grey through the shuttered windows, leaving Veronica wondering if she had truly slept at all.
She dressed mechanically, mind wandering to other thoughts as she prepared for the coming day. She was wasting time, she knew it, she was here to complete a job and time was drawling along with no progress made. With a weary sigh she shook her head, it was no use, until she was summoned by Chandler there was little she could do but explore the castle more.
Suddenly, a guilty thought chewed its way into her head, she gripped the cross at her throat and swallowed anxiously. It had been weeks, nay, months now since she prayed properly. McNamara's words from last night echoed through her thoughts once more, 'You needn't lean on your faith so much here, Ms.Sawyer, you're not in London anymore.'
Veronica felt an icy chill ripple down her spine. McNamara didn't understand, things may be different here in Transylvania, but to Veronica it felt like she had neglected a core need. With a firm nod she knew what she would do today.
It took her an embarrassingly long time to find McNamara, having gotten lost yet again in the labyrinthine halls. When she did come upon her she stopped nervously, she was having what looked like a rather heated discussion with Duke.
The two women stood close together under a faded and worn tapestry of a war torn battlement, faceless soldiers standing watch over the women's heads. She couldn't hear what they were saying but whatever it was, Duke was not happy about it. The taller woman sneered angrily, fists clenched tightly at her sides as she shook her head, ponytail whipping behind her.
"Absolutely not!" Duke snapped coldly, voice raising enough to echo through the hall. It was then that they noticed they had an audience. McNamara straightened and smiled, all anger gone like passing cloud. Duke on the other hand… the woman's stony gaze darkened like a thunderhead about to swallow a ship at sea.
"Ms.Sawyer. What do we owe the pleasure." Duke bit out through clenched teeth, obviously angered at having their discussion interrupted. McNamara frowned sharply and put her hand on the woman's arm, fingers pressing into the fabrics. Veronica watched in curious amazement as Duke relaxed immediately, the anger bleeding out of her as she flicked her eyes over to the softer woman. The sight causing a nervous flicker in her stomach.
Clearing her throat suddenly, Veronica gave a low bow.
"My apologies, I didn't mean to intrude upon a private conversation."
McNamara went to speak, a reassurance already on her lips when Dukes voice cut through the tense silence.
"Do not worry yourself sick, Sawyer. I was just leaving." Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked away from the other women. McNamara watched after her, eyes sad but knowing. With a weary sigh she turned and once again smiled to Veronica.
"What did you need dear?" Her voice soft and gentle… fragile.
Veronica swallowed anxiously, feeling incredibly foolish now for her want. "I… I was wondering if perhaps there was a chapel or shrine I might be permitted to use?"
The look of surprise in McNamara's face made Veronica want to run away and hide in her room, she was a fool for asking such a thing of the woman. Hadn't she made it quite clear that they did not share her faith here?
McNamara's surprise subtly turned to worry before it was brushed under the rug of her bright smile.
"I'm afraid not, none of us have ever truly held much stock in the faith. But, if you would like a place of quiet solace, I'm sure the library is available?" Her voice holding a hopeful tightness to it, as if begging Veronica to not question her.
Veronica quietly deflated, shoulders sinking with the same weight that pitted her stomach. "I see, very well, I apologize for bothering you with my inquiries. Ms.McNamara." She dipped her head in a defeated thanks before brushing past the woman, not noticing the look of hurt in her amber eyes.
She made it around the corner before she was yanked to a halt by a strong hand gripping her arm tightly. Biting back the startled scream she looked up, Duke scowled back at her.
"Follow me, and do be quiet." She bit out softly, not waiting for confirmation before moving once more, Veronica nervously stumbling after her.
The two of them walked in tense silence for what, to Veronica at least, hours. Duke never said a word as she moved through the halls and out a tiny little Servants door and onto the side of the grounds Veronica had yet to see. It was less well kept as the front, what with McNamara's lovely greenhouse and the tended too pathways. But here? Veronica swallowed nervously as she looked out at the tangled brambles and pathways swallowed by the earth, it was like nature was slowly clawing out of the forests surrounding the castle to drag it stone by stone back into its fold.
"Ms.McNamara, nor My lady, enjoy coming out here. They prefer to spend their times in the little pockets of comfort they've made for themselves." Duke said low and sharp, not accusatory or angry, just… observant.
Veronica nodded cautiously, she could see why the women would rather not come out this way, when there was so much beauty to be held elsewhere.
"So, if I may ask, why are you showing me this?" The meek woman asked Duke as politely as she could, anxious of being on the receiving end of that tired scowl yet again.
And like clockwork, Duke tilted her head, let out a slow huffing breath and scowled at her like she was the most moronic creature in the world.
"You were asking Ms.McNamara if there was a place for you to… practice your faith. Were you not?" Her voice was sharp and stony, her eyes just as cold as stared expectantly down at Veronica.
Veronica nearly swallowed her tongue in her panic to say something, anything! As long as it made Duke stop looking at her like that.
"Y-ye… I mean, I was simply curious if there was something like that, I would have assumed there would have been is all." She petered out near the end, anxiously looking away and gripping her cross tight enough to turn her knuckles white.
"Isn't lying a sin, Sawyer?" Duke drawled.
Veronica flushed a dark red, stammering at the taller woman, who ignored her and strolled past. She watched as Duke moved with a startling level of assurance through the over grown paths. Her back straight and broad shoulders squared, she never looked doubtful of any action she ever took. Veronica wanted to be envious of that, but she couldn't bring herself to do so… because then she would have to admit she was interested in something with Duke.
Duke stopped in front of what looked to Veronica like a mound of moss and rock, without looking back at Veronica she wiped off the face of the mound… revealing an old door, nearly rotted away to kindling. Only then did she look back at Veronica.
"Come along then." She shoved the door in with a crumbling groan, stepping inside the musty building followed shortly by Veronica who froze and stared around her in awe.
They were in a beautiful chapel well, it was once beautiful. Years ago it would have been radiant. But now; it's pews were rotted with time, hymnal papers mulched with age, statues of saints and angels worn to smooth faceless entities missing limbs. And in the center of the pulpit, instead of a lectern there was a large circular stand where a statue must have once stood, behind it a massive cross made of gold and wrought with jewels hung limply from the wall.
Veronica shuddered and clenched her hands, she took tentative steps, her shoes leaving deep imprints in the dusty floors as she moved forward. Seeing the house of her faith in such a way, it did something to her heart, it felt like she was watching her mother break from losing her father all over again… but at the same time, it felt like when she would go to the beach with her father.
She felt broken and lost, and oh so freed.
"Batter my heart, three person'd god…" Veronica breathed, slowly falling to her knees in front of the cross hands clasping tightly as she fell back into the familiar rhythm, "… for you, As yet but knock, breathe, shine-"
"And seek to mend; that I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend, your force to break, blow, burn and make me new…"
Duke finished the poem, her voice soft and rasping, like smooth stones rubbing against one another. She never stepped into the chapel proper, standing just on the other side of the door. Her eyes never leaving Veronica as she slowly turned and stared at the woman with a mixture of awe… and something else.
Veronica stood, not caring about the thick layer of dust know covering her trousers and hands, as she stared at Duke. "You… you read John Donne?"
Duke sighed through her nose, hands folded tightly behind her back, eyes never leaving Veronica's.
"I, like a usurp'd town, to another due, Labor to admit you, but O, to no end; Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, but is captivated, and proves weak and untrue." She continued the sonnet, cocking a brow. Veronica blushed and smiled, feeling a little bold suddenly.
"The mind is its own place-" she starts
"And in itself, can make a heaven of hell, a hell of Heaven." Duke finishes, a small smirk on her usually frowning lips. "Milton? How bold of you, Ms.Sawyer."
Veronica blushes and coughs softly, "T-too well I see and rue the dire event…" her voice grows softer the longer she recites the poem, Dukes sharp eyes never leaving hers.
"Which… with seducing words, has wrought our fall." Duke finishes, her own voice nary a whisper.
The two of them staring silently at one another before suddenly Duke turns and steps away from the small hidden chapel.
"I will leave you to your own devices for now, Ms.Sawyer, do try not to get lost on this side of the castle. For I'm the only one available to come look for you, and I'd rather not waste the time." Then without another word she was gone, stalking back into the haunting halls and rooms of the castle, leaving Veronica alone with her heart pounding inside her chest so fast it ached.
Swallowing she shakily turned, staring back up to the cross she felt a wave of nausea and guilt wrack her. All at once it struck her, the choking silence of a place of worship abandoned, the thick taste of tears of dust clinging to her tongue, her own ragged breathing… the earthy and floral scent of the woman who brought her here, still lingering just in the edges of her senses.
Sinking to her knees she didn't care that it hurt. Right now she felt as if she deserved it.
Pulling her cross off her necklace she felt the leather strap snap, she gripped the cross in both hands as she leaned forward, forehead pressing to the dusty floor. Her lips moving in practiced words and prayers.
"Heavenly Father, forgive me these sinful thoughts. Pity my hidden heart and grant me thy mercy." She ignored the tears running down her cheeks, mixing with the dusty floor as she repeated the mantras. Ignoring the memories of soft hands grabbing strong arms, of gentle voices and blood red lips… of rasping voices and cold looks.
She needed to finish this job, and quickly, it was beginning to feel like she may never leave this castle… and to her growing shame and horror. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.