[i]"If you say so, Miss Vera."[/i]


       The sharpness of his words felt as if a dagger had been thrust straight through her heart. He left her barren, without a desire to speak henceforth. Furthermore, as his hand withdrew from hers, it was as if the dagger in her heart, twisted, the blade of agony, the repercussions of her actions from four days ago, fell upon her in crushing waves of guilt. As Shay had turned his face away from her, so had she, however, she did this so to hide the tears that fought to spill. A knotted lump in her throat pushed her to the verge of sobbing, yet she swallowed it with what pride she had left. 


[i]'Let your heart be cold... Cold and painless as the snow upon these hills. It would not do you well to focus upon other things. The painting. You [b]must[/b] secure the painting. Focus, Vera. At least for today...'[/i] She chided herself inwardly, her hands balling into fists of self-hatred.

~

       In all honesty, she hadn't heard a word in the exchange of conversation, simply because of the fact that her thoughts were elsewhere, even though she had chided herself repeatedly, the entire car ride over here, it did not help, especially when Shay had helped her from the car. Any physical touch, be it feigned or not, still sent her heart into a whirlwind. Even more so, the words he muttered in the entry way as they waited for the Herr and Frau to receive them pained her further. She knew that she had no time available to dote upon her own misgivings when such pressing matters at hand called for her full attention. When Albert had invited them to receive refreshments, Vera requested a cup of tea, anything alcoholic might give rise to unwanted emotions. She took note of the fact that the Great Hall was, down the left wing of the manor, and as Shay stopped to admire one of Van Gogh's paintings, only to learn two more facts. First, during her opium-haze, Shay had studied up on painters that Albert would possibly know. And secondly, the fact that the painting was a replication, and not an original. 


     As they entered the great hall, she made certain to keep her emotions in check, any overreaction or exceptional enthusiasm would draw attention to her by the Frau, such a nosy little badger she was. With confidence, as customary to having guests in one's home, Albert led them to a set of twin leather couches, where a tiger skin rug commanded attention. However, as Shay took the lead in conversation, Vera allowed herself to gaze about the room. She spotted several curious animals on display, such as a cheetah, lion, and a wolf, along with the impressive head of a black bear. What she missed in conversation, Vera deduced on her own accord that Albert was quite the hunter. Without a word, a servant bearing the trays with the requested beverages were set before them on a silver platter. After the brandy was poured, Vera claimed her cup of tea, and reached for the cream. When she returned the cream to its place on the platter, her eyes met Clara's, and while the Frau gave her a thin-lipped smile, Vera's heart began to pound. Carefully, she lifted the saucer and rested it upon her knee, taking care not to spill a drop of tea.


    Finally, when the time came, Albert turned his attention upon Vera, causing her to take a sip of tea before returning it to the platter. Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she gave him her full attention. "You are too kind, Albert. Yes... now that the war has come to an end, I've reclaimed my brush and my pen once more. Conway, has been uplifting towards my works. While my father isn't so fond of either, it's nice to have someone such as him be a source of inspiration, and motivation."


"Tell me, Abigale, what poets do you find enthralling? Perhaps you can recite for us something you've penned yourself, if of course, that isn't too much to ask?" Clara butted in, Albert reclined back onto the sofa, swirling the brandy around inside the crystal tumbler.


"Hmm, that's a well put question, Frau von Goethe. I would have to say, Lord Byron, as well as Edgar Allen Poe. Although I shan't forget, Aleister Crowley. That is but to name a few. I don't suppose it could hurt to share one of my poems that I've set to working on as of late."


"Oh yes, please indulge us." Albert enthused, for he too, was a man that enjoyed art with a passion, therein, he raised his tumbler as a gesture to proceed. Casting a hesitant glance at Conway, Vera allowed a few moments to pass as she racked her brain for anything that sounded poetic. Then, she turned her gaze upwards to the ceiling and sighed, like that of a lover reclining against familiar, warm skin. 


"And so, the time has come." She began, her voice as soft as the sound of snow falling, 
"From whence the days bygone,
Leave us but to mourn.
Spirited away, is love lost.

Foolish mistakes we make,
left alone to face our own reprimand.
So, what is left behind, we partake,
in habits to soothe our aching hearts.

With pride crushed, one may turn
a blind eye. For when the time comes again,
there is naught left to lose. The tears,
that fall asunder, are cast aside in meaningless endeavours."


      When she finished speaking, the pounding of her heart made her feel as if all could hear it. Yet, Vera put on a smile, and shrugged her shoulders haphazardly. "It still needs some work, as it's nowhere close to being finished." She added, feeling a bit uncertain herself over the choice of her words.


"How splendid! Such emotion in your words, Abigale. Take not to heart the words of your father, you are young still, and have many paths ahead of you in this world of ours." Albert raised his tumbler as if to express his astonishment.


"Ah..well.. thank you kindly." She managed to muster, reclaiming her cup of tea, she brought it to her lips, and turned her gaze away from Albert and Clara, instead staring at the taupe colored fluid before her.


"We've but a short time before our luncheon is served. If you would care to join us, I would love to show you all my favorite place in our home. My hall of curiosities. Abigale, when you mentioned Poe, it brought to my attention that you may enjoy the room as much as I do. Please, come. Conway, I believe you will recognize some items from your expeditions to Persia and Egypt." With that, Albert rose from the sofa, took Clara's hand in his, and bid them to follow.