She sat silently sipping away at the freshly brewed Darjeeling steaming in her porcelain cup and sighed warmly each time it met her lips. It was a new morning with a clear path open and waiting for Elizabeth and the Trancy boy. The birds began their rhythmic tune, the beetles clicked and chirped over the long dew-covered sod and the cool breeze danced along the branches of the nearby coppice. She glanced over at he who had not spoken for several moments as the small rays of sun began to peek over the rolling hills in the distance. There were moving shadows about his face, masking half of him as he remained seated in his comfortable nightwear that he had so willingly put on. What had been a recurring observation for the young Lady was that Alois was constantly fighting a battle within himself about his cryptic past; a battle between the Trancy now and the Trancy then who managed a small victory a few hours previous.

He was subdued; silent. Being outdoors and out of that house offered some relief, but there was only so much liberty he was allowed. His eyes did not lift from the brown pool in his cup, though he entertained the ripples with a lethargic motion. The spoon gave him something to hold. Elizabeth, who always seemed to harbor energy, who would always generously spill giggles and lift a room with her sprightly tune sat beside him. She, too, was in silence. Exactly how many people would this boy burn to a fragment of their mighty self?

They had attempted sleep. Perhaps they had achieved it, drifting in and out a dreaming state simply to be slammed back into reality at whim of may haps, thoughts and what ifs. Sleep was something of a luxury this eve, so the children had decided to take off to the garden seeking refuge at the small table. His lips peeled apart, tardy to make noise, but his throat turned warm albeit to the fresh coldness of the early morning, clear with a croaky sound that slept with new words. "Lizzy... Do you believe in the devil?"

Through her even sets of breath, Elizabeth took on the words with caution. This corrupt and wicked being of what seemed like fairytales was brought to life by the soul of a fifteen year-old. The morning that had been alluring and silent had turned into a lurid and quixotic one, one that now allowed her skin to crawl with displeasure. She flashed a look at him, noticing that he was intently staring into her youthful eyes. It was not a pleading look but the answer he wished for was hell-bent and unavoidable. "The devil." It was a statement counteracting Alois' query. She had grown up knowing paltry details of Hell and the fallen Lucifer from her religious framework but still, what had been shown to her as the truth for so long was now set on the table in front of her and she realized that she did not know. "I have known my whole life that something so horrid was out there in the world, whether it be a man or a conscience or, as you say, the devil, but I have never come to the conclusion of what it might be." She twirled the silver spoon in her tea cup and ran her thumb along its edge. "I don't have a straight answer for you, Alois." The curls that had so easily leveled out into waves fell over her shoulders as she looked down into the tea cup only to glance back at the Earl moments later. It was a morbid question and she knew that he meant something by it.

And with a solitary motion, she rose from the table staring out into the garden that had begun to brighten in hue. She wheeled back around to face the blonde ace who now sat tapping his fingers along the arc of his chair. He looked dazed but also quite troubled. "What is it?" The young lady settled back onto the cathedra to observe the boy deep in thought.

"Nothing." He was in no state to entertain even the thought of bothering with a tactful language to receive just a simple answer from this girl. He rubbed the dark circles of his eyes and combed back the tresses of his fringe. His exterior was docile, tired and dead. But inside thoughts whirled in a cold tempest, striking the optics of his eyes and rattling a headache. The tea is sipped, set aside, and with his limbs his torso followed to rest a blonde nest in the basket of his arms. "I didn't want to be like this with you... and I'm sorry if... if I've made you resent me." With mumbles languid against the surface of the table, the tempest broke through and flooded his mouth. "But the world isn't full of frills and gentry and flowers and..." A pause for a breath. "It's all a load of bastard shit!" Alois snapped up from his place to lock upon her dazed emeralds. "You think those men don't shit and fart and piss? You think those smiles, those smells, those words are genuine? Are they? Hell. People have to be nice to you, Lizzy, because you're the marquess. People care about you. God help the one who'll even think about laying a hand on you!" It's not her fault. Alois knew this too well. It wasn't her fault. But how could she ever truly see his point? "I'm sorry." The sounds of the morning birds filled the momentary silence. He had scared her. "I'm sorry, Lizzy..." Validating his apology, reaching for forgiveness with a gentle plea, his hand touches hers across the table. "Elizabeth. There are people in the world who will take advantage of you when you become weak, vulnerable..." This hand he touches finds her loose digits, interlocking them with his, taking it the distance to his cheek. "Do you trust me?"

Alois had been all but one thing ever since the young girl had met him and that was, in simplicity, sincere, apologetic even. Expecting an irritable eye-roll or a twisted explanation to his confusing question, Elizabeth had been taken aback by his sudden declaration of reality and sincerity. He cared for her greatly, something she had been so unsure about. He played his games and she never knew when he was genuine or just being a tease, but this, at this moment when she felt his lanky fingers entwined with hers, she just knew. "Yes, of course I trust you." She held his soft hand tighter in hers, a gesture of reassurance. "I would trust you with my life."

This shocked him. With her life. Right from the horse's mouth, that's what she said. Her words had him turgid. His mouth turned to press against the back of her soft, little hand. He had something to take care of now - someone to preoccupy his concerns with. "I'm not good at being a gentleman." A weak chuckle. "I never was. Never have been." He takes a breath of the day and steadies himself. "I'm just a brat, Lizzy."

She giggled slightly at this rambunctious boy who seemed to find no positivity in himself. "Alois, don't be silly," her chime of a voice ringing in the cool air. "You are positively wonderful and a great jokester," she smiled, tilting her head as her eyes closed, leaving slight creases at their edges in excitement. "You may think you're rotten," Elizabeth paused, realizing how absolutely rude that term was, but in honesty, she could not find a word that suited better, "but you're absolutely charming." She mocked him, but only as play. She adored his company and the way he managed to remain calm at her playful rant made her even more interested.

"But I'm not." Straight faced, it was almost as though he was ignoring her. Lizzy's hand was given back, set delicately onto the table; he didn't want to break her. And taking another breath, another tide of daylight, he harvested his thoughts and lay them before her - or would what he had to say break her fragile attention? "Once upon a time," spoken bitterly, he mocks her contrasting lifestyle. "A boy called Alois had to pick a few pockets; had to trick a few dandies like yourself."

She was automatically drawn to Alois' voice. This complex and ultimately destructive history was something he had been hiding for months. She watched him as his eyes sank into their sockets, as his body posture became stiffer and almost rugged - not elegant at all, almost as if he had forgotten she was even there. She rested her head on an open palm that, for once, no longer shielded itself with a pretty laced gloved.

Brought back to the reality, he made a lifeless effort to watch her, present in his body but just vaguely. Lips pursed, Alois looked away from her. He couldn't watch this round face fall or twist in disappointment and distaste, so instead he said what he needed to quickly, messily. "All I wanted was revenge on the cruel society. I lost sight of what was important and I lost people I cared about. My family doesn't exist, they're six feet under." He wondered if she knew he was not speaking about the old man. He allowed just a moment between his words, but promptly decided that actually he'd rather not have a reaction from the Midford. Not yet. "And so I was taken to this place. And I done what I always had to do; I survived. Even if that meant sacrificing people I care about." A laugh escaped him, sickly. "My name isn't even Alois!"

The laughter that had burst out was quick and unnerved Elizabeth, almost to the point where she had forgotten everything that had happened before this moment and all that was able to stay in her mind was this story that Alois had begun to tell. "I remember that the first day we met, you mentioned a fire. Is that what you are talking about?" Her eyes glittered in sadness as she saw the boy's uncertainty mold his facial features. "Wait," she began to say, realizing the mumbled last words of the boy, "…you're not really called Alois?" She was quite confused and needless to say unsure if he was sane. "Then who are you?" She stood quickly but made sure not to exit. Who was this boy that she was with if not Alois Trancy? Her reactions were quick and agile and she knew how much she wanted to listen but she was scared of the answer.

His laughter continued. It became staggered and uneven; it may be said that the sound was that of a madman, and if it was under any other circumstances the water he captured at his eye could have been simply a tear of giddiness. Alois laughed because the energy he had to cry has limited. And her reaction - It's not what he wanted, not at all. "That's right, Lizzy! That's just some silly fetish fill, you know?" His laughter settled to soft chuckles to eventually become amused hums, smug as he was fake. With another sip of tea, his lanky leg hooked over his knee beneath the table, eyeing the empty place before him. But what he said next put him in a trance, his throat hollowed and, really, Alois wasn'tthere. "Yes... The old guy called me that. My real name is Jim. Not so fancy, is it?"

"Jim." A simple confirmation of the name that Alois had just spoken. "James Trancy?" She tried to finish the whole name for him but she was so naïve to everything that was being revealed before her. Though she had grown up within the few months spent with Alois, she still could not determine the actuality of his stories, or of his playing pretend. Her head that had been tipped downwards to look at the knotted fabric resting underneath their garden tea party, raised slightly, her eyes moving more-so to look at a face who she recognized but did not understand. Her fingers swiped a bit of dirt off of the edge of the cloth and sat down once more hoping that he would continue. "Who was this man you keep mentioning?" She figured soon after that asking about the man was not the best idea. He had been the cause of Alois' downfall earlier that morning, but she needed to know; who he was, what he did to him and worst of all, if he would ever come back for Alois. She shuddered at the thought and waited desperately for a reply.

"No, Elizabeth. My name is Jim Macken." As this was said his finger rose to touch his lips - it was to be their little secret. "The old guy called me Alois, and I took on Trancy so I could remain at this house, so I could become Count and live a new life. Isn't that great?" False confidence, but he implied it all the same, leaning back in his chair, draping his lengthy arms over its back. She still looked confused and Alois wasn't to argue that it was a particularly cute look for her. Of course he left out what he had endured upon the old man's lifetime; for her sake. "Do you still trust me?"

As she wrapped her head around this information, she fell silent yet again, for a time that seemed longer than forever. She stared out at the sunrise that had finally crept over the hills and admired the colors in the new Spring sky. The periwinkle's and titian tones that speckled the early morning reflected in her emerald eyes- her own personal mirage. She heard a throat clear to her side, coming back to the garden and resting her eyes on Jim Macken. Her mouth gaped open and shut almost instantaneously as she puffed out a breath of air. She was speechless in this moment. "Alois- uh, Jim, why are you asking me a question you already know the answer to?" Her attitude was showing, clearly out of irritation. She had been lied to for months, or was she being protected for months? Either way, the secrecy proved to be untrustworthy, until she realized who she was speaking to once again.

Her reply had him stumped. She still trusted him? After finding out about his tainted self, the ugly truth, after knowing she'd been lied to? Exactly how foolish and naive must this girl be? What must happen to her before she is to toughen that heart of hers?He watched the Marchioness for a while, steady, silent. She was annoyed, but only so much where the shape of her lips twisted and her body had returned to its sound self. "You don't care you're friends with scum like me?" Perhaps he had misjudged her. Alois had thought there was at least some sense to the girl, then again, she was the one who allowed him torment over her simple head. She was the one who came back to him.

What a little masochist she was.

And still, he hadn't an inkling of how he felt about this.

"Lizzy...Don't call me that."