Rumbling, from the distance, shook the old, crumbling structure. The night sky darkened fast, eating up the last remnants of the summer sun. The cobblestone streets were barren, save for a lone figure walking from the honeycomb of homes. Dressed in a heavy cape by no means meant for the warm evening, and leaning hard on a cane far too ancient to be his own, he slipped through the streets, unnoticed.

Down Cheapside, he struggled through the mist and the filth of his short cut. As he coughed, fighting against the wretched smell of the city, he caught sight of what he was looking for. The dome, dark against the lamp lit streets, protruded against the sky, awaiting him.

Hurrying across the street, he reached a deserted coach. Using his cane, he tapped on it using the silver head it. A toothless face leered out at him, smirking. “How’d it go, sir?” The creature asked through the window.

With a small groan of annoyance, the man pulled open the door of the carriage. The dark brown mares whinnied their disapproval at the noise. “Your family, Fenik, they are from Aberfoyle, are they not?” He asked, his refined tone lilted by a barely discernable Lake District cadence.

The grubby creature nodded as he tried to slip quickly away from the cloaked man. “Yes, Lord Meadows, you knew that when you hired me sir.” He said, bowing so low the almost comical red stocking cap resting in a jaunty, though out of place angle on his head nearly toppled off.

Cold brown eyes glared at him. “Next time, you’ll wait behind St. Paul’s, not in front, or your entire family will thrown in to Loch Lomond.” He said. “Now, home please.” With a grin, he closed the door in the face of the creature.

With a small twitch, Fenik swallowed and moved to the front of carriage; the blond man sitting comfortably inside watched him as he did so. With an unheard word to the horses and a tug on the reigns, the carriage lurched to a start and headed towards the edges of the street.

They moved easily through the darkened streets; no one dared come out on to the street at night for fear of urchins and their ilk. The carriage trundled along, down Fleet Street. He watched as it turned in to Trafalgar, and then down a small road.

When the carriage stopped, he opened the door himself and got out. A gnarled old woman stood waiting for him, hands on her hips.

“Elijah!” She called to him, glaring at him. “How did your ‘meeting’ go tonight?” She asked.

He walked past her, pulling the cloak close to keep the wind away from him. He glared at her as he walked by, shaking his head as he adjourned to his room.

Weeks passed, slowly fading in to months. The sky became fair though the weather became brisk. Elijah stood outside of Parliament. He had shed his cloak and stood in a nice suit, his hat pulled over his eyes to keep the sun away. He pulled his pocket watch out, checking the time as he sighed, wondering where Fenik was with his carriage.

“Are you Lord Elijah Meadows?” Someone asked. Elijah turned. Behind him was a thin, waspish man stood there. His hand moved to play nervously with his silk tie, forcing it to open and expose more of his thin neck. He sniffed, his long nose twitching with the motion. Elijah felt the urge to simply walk away, but the man had caught his stare, and pressed forward, and with other members of the House gathered outside to wait for their carriages he had no escape. He turned away, hoping to ignore the man and force him to leave, but the man’s interest was caught. “Lord Meadows, Lord of the Unseelie Court?”

He had to admit, that caught his attention. No human ever admitted to knowing of the Dark Court; if they did, they tried to stay as far away from him as possible. Raising a blond eyebrow, he turned to look at the man fully once again. “Yes, I am Lord Elijah Meadows.” He said, leaning on his cane as he watched the man.

Deep blue eyes flittered down to the cane in Elijah’s hand. He had made it himself, another lifetime ago; blackthorn wood topped in silver, with the Biblical inscription he had been named for – 1 Kings 17:7-24. “Is that real silver?” The man asked.

Laughing slightly, he nodded. “It is; I made it myself.”

The man swallowed. “Shouldn’t you…I mean, your type of…of…?”

“Are you trying to imply that, because of out-dated Italian folk legends, I should not be able to touch silver because I am not, as you are so eloquently trying to say, human?” He asked, leveling the man with an easy stare. When he nodded, Elijah chortled. “You are incredibly misinformed, sir.”

That seemed to snap the man out of whatever daze he had fallen prey to. He leveled Elijah with an imperious look, swallowing somewhat; his throat bobbed in an ungainly manner as he did so. “I have a wish from a lady of my acquaintance to meet with you immediately, and I am to take no answer but yes; your carriage has already been brought to her home and is awaiting your arrival.”

Without another word, the man turned on his heel and walked away. Growling quietly to himself, Elijah called for him to return at once, but he was ignored. Pulling his hat lower over his eyes so he would not be recognized by his compatriots, he limped off after the man, following him through the winding streets to a beautiful house on the outskirts of Belgravia. Parked outside the house was his carriage, his hand cowering in the front seat. With an annoyed sigh, he walked to the front door. He picked up his cane and grabbed it by the center, intent on rapping on the door with the silver head, when the door opened of its own accord.

“Oh, Elijah, it’s so good to see you.” He blinked, staring at the woman. Of course, he knew her. He had met her in Cheapside, though she had looked much different then. Now, her auburn hair was pulled up nicely, and she wore a deep russet dress, she looked very different from the girl he had run in to a month ago. She sent him an excruciatingly fake smile and curtseyed to him. “Oh, you seem to be surprised; did I fail to mention I was related to Victoria?” She asked.

Elijah stared, mind reeling; he had not expected such a thing to happen, nor such a response from the young woman. “Alice?” He finally managed to ask. She smiled at him, nodding. When he made no move, she ushered him in.

They all sat in the morning room – Elijah, Alice, and the strange man who had come to call on Elijah. Alice sat primly, watching him in the same way a hawk watched its prey. “Now, Elijah; we have business to discuss.”

That shocked him out of his reverie. His haughty air returned as he glared down at her coolly. “Do we, Madame? I thought all pleasantries were taken care of when we last departed each other’s company.”

Her glare matched his as she sniffed softly. “In fact, there are quite a few matters that did not occur until after we last met.” She said. She glanced up at the long-necked man, coughing delicately. “Theodore, do you mind leaving for a moment, dear?” She begged. He nodded and left the room. When he was gone, her predatory glare was back in place. “Now, Lord Meadows,” she said, sitting back in her chair, her lips pursed in an ungainly manner. “Do you remember what occurred the last time we met?”

Elijah blinked at her dumbly, before regaining some semblance of composure. “I am quite aware of what happened between the two of us last time we met, Madame.” He said, playing with the head of his cane. “And I don’t see how it’s any business of yours to bring it up again.”

She ignored him, daintily brushing aside her hair as she did so. “You are, if I remember correctly, unmarried, Lord Meadows?”

He stood at that, anger coming to a breaking point. He clung to his cane, pushing it down on the ground hard, listening to the wood creak; it had held up for him since he was eighteen; it would not give way for him now. “You know as well as I, Madame, that there is no way I am going to marry.”

Alice laughed at him, shaking her head imperially. “You don’t seem to understand, Lord Meadows; it’s not a question of whether or not you wish to marry. You know that my time is fleeting whereas yours is not, and I am not bringing a bastard in to this world.”

The word stopped him cold. The anger dissipated in to a cold fear, clawing at his very being. “What?” He managed to hiss out; the world seemed to topple around him.

Alice watched him with little distress, her clinical detachment unnerving him all the more.

“I did not believe you to be this much of a rube, Master Meadows, for one of your age and stature.” She said, delighting in his torment.

“I was raised without a father, Madame, and I did not turn out for the worse.” He pointed out.

She quirked a brow. “Did you really now, Lord Meadows? Well, a child of this century is hardly comparable to a birthed animal of your own.” Elijah spat, deportment gone. He stormed out of the room, grabbing his things. “So I shall see you tomorrow to continue our talk on courting?” She called to him sweetly. He slammed the door to the morning room, fulminations on his lips.

Turning, he did not notice the crane-necked man until he had barged, hard, in to him. Cursing him, he pulled away to glare. The man straightened his suit and swallowed nervously, watching Elijah as one would a deranged animal. Sighing, he ran a hand through his blond hair, taking his hat off in the process. “I will not hurt you.” He promised. He started to walk away, before turning. “Your name, sir?” He asked, pulling a cordial air as he smiled.

It seemed to unnerve the man all the more. He shuffled and looked down, mumbling nervously. “Theodore Haynsworth, sir.” He managed, “Admiral of Her Highness’ Navy.” He saluted and looked away respectfully.

“Haynsworth?” He asked, thinking. He smirked. “Ah, yes, I’ve heard of you; you’re a good worker, and have gotten high acclaim in the navy.” He moved towards him. “Unmarried, if I remember correctly?” he asked, trying to appease the scared man.

Haynsworth blinked at Elijah, suprirsed by the praise and intruding question. “Yes, yes I am…all of those.”

“And you like Madame Alice, as a friend and companion?” He asked, leaning close in a conspirator’s fashion. When Haynsworth nodded, Elijah smiled brightly, hoping to pass for friendly. “Well, I have it on good accord that the Madame is wishing to be wed before she is a maid.”

The dark-haired man watched him, curiosity taking over. “Oh?” He asked; Elijah smirked when he saw the thoughts going on in the man’s mind. “Do you think she would disapprove if I asked to court her?”

Putting his hat back on, he tipped it to the man. “I believe she’s in a mood for a suitor.” He said. He watched Haysnworth move in to the room, closing it behind him. When he was certain the coast was clear, Elijah walked out the front door. He glowered at Fenik as he opened the carriage himself. “Home.” He said curtly, closing the door behind him. Nodding, the driver spurred the horses on as Elijah reclined in to the seat, watching Belgravia slip by.

Once again, he had narrowly escaped.

For now.