Ever since I was young, I always hated spiders. The mere thought of their hairy legs crawling all over me, their four eyes staring straight into my soul made me shudder. Every time I came upon a web, the sticky fibers clinging to my delicate skin, I would scream and scream and scream until someone rushed to my aid, clearing the webs from my gown, softly calming me with soothing whispers. I would cry and they would have no choice but to bring me inside, serve me some tea and send me off to bed with a lullaby to calm me down. However, I would still have nightmares in which I would shiver in the blankets and entangle myself in the soft cloth until the morning in which the servants would pry me from my bed.

Soon enough, though, I grew too old to fear such childish things. At least, that is what I was told. I came of the age of being a "lady" and I was no longer allowed to make such a fuss over anything of lesser importance than a death. Being a lady, of course, also meant finding a suitable husband, something I most certainly was not prepared for. The topic came up at my birthday feast on my seventeenth birthday.

Just as I was about to swallow a delicious pieces of the tender dinner roast, my father spoke up. "It's about time that we start looking for a handsome young man for our dear little Marcy," he said with a grin, taking a sip of wine.

I almost spit out my food. "Already?"

"Yes, of course. I met your mother when she was around a year older than you, now isn't that right, Darlene?"

"Yes it is, my dear." My mother gave a polite smile.

My hand trembled, the teetering silver fork threatening to clatter onto the near full plate. Just yesterday, I was considered too young to attend my good friend's ball and now I was ready to get married? The quick turnaround put me into an utter state of shock. The food on the fine china plate now seemed like a meal for giants, the originally small piece of meat seeming big enough to feed an entire village.

"I… I have had enough food."

Without another word, I stood and took off, my parents shouting for me to come back immediately, baffled servants chasing after me. I pulled up the skirt of my dress, running faster and faster out into the garden, past the shrubs and the fountains and into the dark woods, not paying attention to where I was going or how I was going to get back. Further and further I ran, twigs pulling and tearing at the fabric of my dress. However, I would not stop, feeling as if my imminent fate was looming over me like a monster, chasing after me and threatening to devour me. I panted as I reached my limit, stopping and catching my breath. I put my hands on my knees and bent over, heaving and coughing, having never run so far so quickly. As I finally regained my strength, I raised my head only to see a spider web the size of my body. My heart pounded in my ears, my body frozen in fear. The owner of the web crawled out, a huge spider the size of a small child. My fearful face was reflected in each one of its six eyes, its legs thick enough to strangle me. A scream caught in my throat, however, I couldn't open my mouth wide enough to let it out. Then, an unexpected voice sounded throughout the forest.

"You wish to escape your fate?"

I spun around, my movements sudden and jerky, terror racking my body. "Who's there?"

"Over here."

I turned to the source of the voice, which happened to be exactly where the spider rested, its eyes seeming slightly amused. "Who are you? Show yourself!"

"I have." The arachnid rubbed its two front legs together, staring at me the whole time.

"Y-you? The spider? Spiders can't talk! I must be going mad!"

"I can assure you, you have heard correctly. I am no spider, however."

"Then what are you?"

"The solution. Your escape. You wish not to get married? I will do everything in my power not to let your life be sold to a greedy, power-hungry man."

My fear slowly washed away. "Who are you?" I asked again, intrigued, as if held under a spell.

"My name is Faustus. Make a contract with me, and I shall lend you my power." The spider's hideous form slowly transformed into a mysterious man with hair the color of the sky just before pitch black, eyes golden as the sun. He held out a gloved hand, clad in clothing suitable for any noble butler. "Make a contract with me, Marcy, and I shall free you from all your woes."

Transfixed by his irresistible offer and allure, I put my hand on his. "I shall make a contract with you."

He let out a low chuckle, his eyes fixed on me. "Then it is done." A golden floral seal appeared on my left hand, clear as day. "Now any man who asks your hand in marriage shall know that your soul belongs only to me." He scanned me over. "Your dress is not in suitable condition."

"I… It must have.."

"Let me fix it for you." With movements too quick to be seen, he had patched up every single tear and rip, making my gown look flawless once more.

"How did you…?"

"My secret. Now, my lady, let us go."

Taking my arm, he guided me back to the manor where my worried parents stood waiting.

"Oh, Marcy!" my mother cried, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I was so worried! Don't just disappear without mention like that! You scared your father and me to death!"

"Sorry, Mother, I was just getting some fresh air and I happened to get a little lost. Luckily, I came across this kind man who was willing to help me find my way home."

"Oh!" She turned to Faustus. "What is your name? Where are you from?"

Faustus's gaze met mine. I realized that he lacked a suitable first name, and off the top of my head, I mouthed the name "Claude."

"Claude Faustus, at your service." He knelt down on a single knee, his right hand over his heart, his head bowed reverently. "I heard you were in search of a new butler, my lady, and I was just coming over to display my skills when I came across your lost daughter."

"Oh! Well now, Claude, any man who saves my daughter is a suitable butler for the Westfall household! Jane, show him to the servant's quarters!"

Jane, an old servant who had been with us since I was born, rushed over and showed Claude to the servant's quarters, her eyes smiling with excitement. My handmaid rushed me off to my chambers before I could watch them disappear around the corner.

….

"For this morning's tea, we have Earl Grey of the finest quality. It is most excellent." Claude gracefully poured the brown liquid into the small tea cup, the smell slowly waking me up.

"Where's my handmaid?" I asked sleepily, stretching my arms.

"She has unfortunately fallen ill with a cough. I shall be your servant until she has recovered."

I nodded, having grown quite accustomed to having Claude around for the past three months. However, I felt slightly uncomfortable with having the male butler assume such an… intimate position.

"Fetch me my dress, Claude. The light blue one."

"Yes, my lady." He disappeared into the dressing room and returned swiftly, gently carrying the silk gown.

I slid out of bed, yawning sleepily. "Please step out of the room. I wish for you not to see. I'll call you back in when I'm ready."

"Of course, my lady." Claude stepped out, slowly closing the door behind him.

I pulled on my dress, struggling with the weight of the fabric. "Claude!" I shouted desperately.

He stepped in, unprepared for the sight. Taken aback slightly, he asked, "Do you need some assistance?"

"Clearly, now hurry up."

I shielded my face, embarrassed, feeling rather exposed. His gloved fingers pulled at the laces of my corset, pausing unexpectedly.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"If you don't mind my inquiry, what is this blue blotch on your lower back?"

It had been years since anyone had asked me that, as no one had seen that part of me except for my handmaid. "It's from a spider bite. The venom caused it. The doctor managed to save my life with an antidote, but it left that mark."

"Ah…" He said no more and tugged at the strings, making sure my corset was nice and taut. He laced up the back of my dress with care. I watched him from my mirror, his face showing no signs of any thoughts other than getting his job done well. "All finished, my lady," he declared.

"Thank you."

"Would you like me to braid your hair?"

"Men don't know how to do that."

"I do."

"No you don't."

"I wouldn't have offered to if I didn't, my lady."

"Prove it."

"Most certainly."

He gently loosed my hair from the messy bun and combed it with more care than a mother would give to a child. He parted it into three and braided it, his sharp eyes making sure everything was done with the utmost precision. Stepping back, he let me admire the finished product.

"Wow…" I breathed, the braid unlike any I had ever seen. "It's beautiful… Thank you, Claude."

"Of course, my lady."

"Do me a favor, Claude."

"Anything."

"Call me Marcy."

"That would be inappropriate for a mere servant."

"You called me Marcy when we first met."

"I was not your butler when we first met."

"Stop being so argumentative. That will get you in trouble around here. Call me Marcy."

"Yes, Marcy."

"There we go." I smiled.

"Now, Marcy," he said, obviously enjoying the way my name rolled off his tongue, "you have a prospective husband arriving promptly at noon."

"Who is it?"

"Sir Hector Sutherland, an accomplished and educated young man from London."

"I'm not interested."

"I'm well aware. However, you still must have tea and dinner with him."

"Unfortunate."

"Show me your left hand."

"Don't tell me what to do, Cla-"

"Show me."

Grumpily, I pulled off my glove and held out my hand. The mark remained proudly vibrant, the flower glowing in the dimly lit room.

"As long as this mark is on your hand," Claude said, "your soul is mine and mine alone."

I sighed and nodded.

"Now, let us make our way to the living room."

…

After hours and hours of long conversation with Hector Sutherland, whose personality was as boring as his name, I collapsed onto my bed, drained. With, embarrassingly enough, the help of Claude, I changed into my nightgown and Claude pulled the covers over my tired body, almost ensuring my safety. Just as he was about to step out my door, I stopped him.

"Claude, stay a little while. I wish to speak with you."

"Of course, Marcy."

"Sit." I patted the edge of the bed, scooting over so he had ample space to be comfortable.

"What did you wish to speak with me about?"

"I was wondering, when we made our contract, why did you not force me to specify the terms?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"You just told me that you would save me from marriage but… you never told me what exactly would allow you to eat my soul."

"Ah… I knew you would ask that eventually."

"Do you have an answer?"

"Frankly, I do not. Originally, I was planning on taking your soul when you were considered too old for marriage and men eventually lost interest. Now, however, I'm not quite as sure."

"Why not?"

"I have been thinking that I do not actually want to eat your soul."

"What? Am I not desirable?"

"It isn't that. Not at all. However, I do not wish to eat the soul of a person whose company I rather enjoy."

"What do you mean?" I sat up.

"I mean that I have grown rather fond of you, Marcy."

"In what way?"

"Don't be foolish. You're a smart girl."

"But you're a demon! You can't… you can't feel that way!"

"Who gave you that idea?" He set down the candelabra he was holding, looking me in the eye.

"I… I don't know." I looked down, heat rising to my cheeks.

He chuckled, setting his hand on mine. "You are a fine young lady, Marcy. More intelligent than most. Bolder than most. I value that in you. It would be a shame to lose you in the sticky web of society's expectations." He stood. "Now, I must be going." Bending over, he softly pressed his lips to mine, tilting my chin up with his fingers. When we parted, he leaned his forehead into mine, his golden gaze meeting mine. "Please consider what I have said. Good night, Marcy." With that, he picked up the candelabra, blew out each candle one by one and disappeared into the darkness.

….

That next morning, I arrived at breakfast, my face glowing happily from the previous night's events. I sat down at the head of the table, smiling cheerfully evening when Hector Sutherland slogged out of his room and collapsed into the chair next to me.

"Good morning," I greeted him gleefully, my smile growing when I noticed Claude's hand brush against mine as he set my breakfast down before me.

"Good morning," Hector replied, his deep brown eyes briefly glancing at my plate, then at me, then at my butler.

"I trust you got a good sleep."

"Excellent. The bed was very comfortable."

"I'm glad to hear that. The Westfall household offers the finest hospitality in all of England."
"That is clear." He bit into his toast ravenously.

"Some tea, Lady Westfall?" Claude asked, holding a silver platter topped with our finest china.

"Yes, please."

The sound of tea hitting the bottom of the cup filled my ears, drowning out the sound of Hector devouring his breakfast. Claude set the tea in front of me, his lips brushing my cheek when he was sure Hector was absorbed by the deliciousness of the food. I blushed and shielded my bright red cheeks by lifting the teacup to my mouth, sipping quietly. Hector and I finished our breakfast, not speaking a word to one another the whole time. Meanwhile, Claude collected his bags and carried them out to the carriage, his feet tapping in some sort of strange dance as he waited for us to finish.

Finally Hector stood. "I enjoyed my stay here, Lady Westfall," he thanked me. "Please consider my offer."

"Most certainly," I said, smiling.

He bowed, tipping his hat, Claude showing him to the front door.

…

"May I have a word with you, Lord and Lady Westfall?"

"Certainly!" Lord Westfall bellowed, happy to please his guest.

"Privately," Hector said, eyeing Claude.

Bowing, Claude left them alone.

"I believe," Hector began, "that your butler, Claude, and your daughter, lovely Marcy, are maintaining a secret relationship."

Lady Westfall gasped. "What gives you that idea?"

"I saw his lips brush her cheek at breakfast."

"That licentious, vile man!" Lord Westfall exclaimed, angered.

"I just thought you should know," Hector Sutherland said, bowing. "I thank you for your hospitality. I must be going." He hurried out of the manor, narrowly escaping the rage of Marcy's parents.

The pounding of hooves thundered down the road, leaving only the Westfalls and Claude in the manor.

…

"Claaaaaauuuude!" My father's voice echoed through the halls, shaking my entire skeleton.

"Yes, my lord?" Claude appeared, cleaning a dish.

"Sir Hector Sutherland has told me that you have been setting eyes upon my Marcy."

"My lord?"

"He saw you touching my Marcy with his own eyes!"

My heart raced. I thought that Sutherland was too absorbed in the food to notice! Noticing my fear, Claude gave me a reassuring look before looking back at my father.

"He must have been mistaken. I would never do something so lecherous and lewd as that."

"Well I think otherwise! Marcy! What did he do to you?"

"N-nothing, Father! Nothing at all!" I knew my tone gave it all away. I had never been a good liar.

"You liar! How could you, Marcy?"

"I swear, Father, I didn't do anything!" I cried, holding back tears.

"You can't lie to me, Marcy!"

"I'm not lying!" My hands trembled.

"I will give you one day to come clean. If you fail to tell me the truth within twenty-four hours, I will see to it that Claude is thrown in prison and that you never see his disgusting face again!" He stormed off, dragging my crying mother with him, Claude still left cleaning the dish.

"Cl-Claude," I croaked, my voice cracking.

Claude set down the dish and pulled me into an embrace. "Now don't you fret, Marcy. I have everything planned out."

I sniffled. "Do you really?"

"Of course. What kind of butler would I be if I couldn't do even that?" He kissed my cheek.

"You'd still be my butler, Claude. Don't leave me, Claude."

"I can assure you, the thought of leaving you has never and will never cross my mind."

…

Dear Father and Mother,

I am sorry to say that Hector Sutherland, boring man that he is, was not lying when he told you what he saw. I want to tell you that I love you both, and I am sorry that it has to end this way. You have raised me well, and we share many a memory, however, I believe that I am of the age to make my own decisions and not get trapped in the sticky web of your and society's expectations of me. I have gone off with Claude because I love him. It is as simple as that. I am truly sorry. I love you. May you both live long and happy lives.

- Marcy

"Are you ready?" Claude whispered as I set the letter on my parents' nightstand.

Taking one last look at my parents and the letter, I nodded, tears rolling down my cheeks. Claude took my hand and we both walked out the garden door, past the shrubs and the fountains, into the forest, past his giant web, into a village. He opened the door to a modest cottage, letting me in. Not the manor I was used to, however, it would keep us hidden but still allow us to live comfortably.

"Cl-Claude…."

"Yes, Marcy?"

"Don't leave me, Claude. You're all I have left."

"I know." His burning pink eyes met mine, my eyes also displaying that same demonic energy. "We're bound together for eternity. No matter what separates us, we shall always be connected."

I nodded and hugged him, melting into his warm body. Crickets chirped, the moonlight gently bathing our embrace. I couldn't tell you how long we stood there. But I guess it doesn't matter.

…..

"Alois Trancy?" I asked, perking up.

"Mind your own business!" Ciel commanded me, glaring.

"Sorry, sir." I bowed my head.

"Now prepare the guest bedroom."

"Yes, sir."

I rushed to the bedroom, speedily making the bed and dusting the furniture. Seeing that I had time to spare, I glanced out the windows, hoping to see our guest. Sure enough, a small blonde boy stepped out of the carriage, his butler with hair the color of the sky just before pitch black. His butler just so happened to look up at the window I was looking through. We both smiled as our eyes met at last. As if bound together by an invisible strand of a spider's web, we had come together after so many years apart.