The Stick Figure Lady Ch 02

- Author Note:

Thanks for everyone who read and commented/voted on part one. Here is Chapter 2. Should provide some answers, more questions and yes, there is some interesting stuff towards the end. I hope you enjoy.

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It took some time, but Brea eventually curled up against Jacob again. It was a relief when she finally rested her head against his chest, and not just because of the way it felt. For nearly an hour he'd sat there, surrounded by people watching him, yet only Brea showed any sign of doing more than watch.

The feel of her warmth, the pressure of her body on his felt domestic, familiar, normal. It was a sign of just how strange the situation was that Jacob was getting a sense of normality from a girl he couldn't even speak to.

Never one for sitting still while working on a problem, Jacob found his hands wandering along with his mind. His mind noted small things as his hands discovered them, the feel of the fabric of her dress, the callus free skin on her palms, the way the soft hair on her arms stood up as he brushed against it. It was all subconscious, nervous energy forcing the actions.

When his lips touched the top of her head, nose breathing in the clean smell of her hair, he finally noticed what he was doing. Brea was muttering under her breath again, but from what he could make out didn't seem displeased. It wasn't long before Jacob found himself relaxing despite himself.

Which is when the interplanetary jet lag finally caught up with him.

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Jacob woke to a numb arm and a face full of hair. Brea had apparently followed him into his slumbers.

"Brea," Jacob whispered, cupping her face with his free arm, "Brea."

She stirred slowly, face turning towards his, brown eyes staring up at him. Her earlier blushes were absent, her lips slightly parted. Jacob moved before thinking, head tilting down to meet hers.

"You're awake at last," came a woman's voice from somewhere nearby.

Jacob ignored the voice, his lips meeting Brea's. Any trace of sleep left him as he felt the kiss deepen. Blood rushed into weary limbs, and other places. His arm came free from beneath her as she turned into the kiss, her hands coming to rest on his chest, his found her waist and neck.

"Well," came the voice again, hesitant, unsure this time.

Jacob pulled away, his eye's opening to meet Brea's. Her green eyes shone with the same eagerness and desire he was certain his own held.

Wait green? Her eyes were brown.

Focus. Woman speaking to you remember?

Jacob turned to face the source of the intrusion. It was immediately clear that the woman seated across from him was as nearly as out of place in the farmhouse as he was himself. Enough blue fabric to dress at least three more women made up what could only be described, with its detailed embroidery, as her gown.

Fashion, it seemed, had not progressed terribly far in the last few hundred years on this side of the portal.

"My apologies," Jacob said, examining what he could see of the woman inside the dress, "I fear it has been an unusual day."

Understatement. Hey, she's kinda...

Stop it.

"Yes, well," the woman avoided looking at Brea, still practically in his lap, "I expect it has been at that."

Jacob shifted Brea gently, taking hold of her hand so she didn't think badly of it. It was extremely hard to think with her so close. His newest visitor seemed to be rather formal, and her accent was evocative of upper class England.

Yes. Which is kinda....

ENOUGH.

"Still, that is no reason to neglect the proper courtesies," Jacob said, while channelling memories of pompous TV 'gentlemen', "I am Jacob Duncan, at your service."

Something about her face made him think that perhaps it was a bit much.

"Mr Duncan, it is a pleasure to meet you. And such refined manners," she took a dramatic pause, "Well it is remarkable. But where are my manners, I am Lady Elenor Mercer, Governess to Count Barclay of Oxford."

Jacob re-evaluated his approach, clearly using half remembered TV shows as his guide was not ideal. He'd misjudged her, her posture, her reddish hair up in a tight bun all screamed formality, but she clearly was not as stuffy as it seemed. He could not help but smile at her obvious wit, mocking though it was.

"Let's try that again. Lady Elenor it's nice to meet you, and I am glad to hear someone speaking English."

"No doubt. I expect you have many questions," Lady Elenor replied.

"Probably more than you care to answer," Jacob said honestly, "But first you said you were a Governess? Does that mean you are in charge of the education of the Count's children?"

"Yes it does," Elenor replied, smiling, "His daughters only though, his sons are studying at The University."

Jacob took note of the way she said University, the singularity and the hint of something more that she wasn't sharing.

"I apologise if this seems rude, but why you in particular? Why did you come to meet me?"

"A fair question," Elenor replied, "There are several reasons. The Countess trusts my judgement, you status warranted a member of their household and additionally I hold rank myself. Your presence here also has bearing on my duties as Governess."

Jacob pondered her response, trying to figure out the pieces she'd given him. That it was pieces was clear, there was much she was holding back. The slight hint of smugness on her face told him that she enjoyed his ignorance. It was a playful smugness, not an arrogant one, and Jacob ground his teeth together rather than ask the obvious questions.

Can't learn an entire world in one day. I would love to wipe that look off her face though.

"Do you know what year the last people came through?" Jacob asked.

"The answer to that is complicated. We don't truly know when the last person came through, as it can be anywhere. Survival is not guaranteed either. The last I heard of appeared several hundred feet above the ground," Elenor paused at Jacob's nod, "Ah, you had a fall too?"

"Not quite that far fortunately," Jacob replied.

"You are more fortunate than you know," Elenor spoke, smiling, "Here at least you can find someone to speak to, outside New Britain that is rare."

"New Britain," Jacob repeated, "I thought it might be something like that. If the other question is difficult to answer, when did New Britain start out?"

"Ah, it didn't truly start off until the founding of London, but it began with the HMS Restoration, which came through in 1703," Elenor lectured, clearly a lesson she'd taught before.

"An entire ship?" Jacob asked, surprised, "I don't think the one I came through was much bigger than a person."

"They used to be larger. There are records of all sorts of things coming through, although often it was never more than a few people at a time. The Restoration came through with over three hundred."

"Because they'd still have to move through, not many people likely to do that after watching people disappear," Jacob pondered out loud.

"Exactly," Elenor sounded pleased.

A proud teacher. I've travelled to another world to go back to school. Wonderful.

"Three hundred. That's a decent sized ship. No doubt with more than a few guns and cannons," Jacob mused, "And full of British colonial spirit as well."

"That they did. But with them also came a unifying presence unlike any that this region had seen before," Elenor continued, her passion for the subject clear, "There was not as much fighting as you might think, and since then there has been prosperity and growth."

So the British Empire lives on. I wonder what the Queen would think if she knew.

"Has a new monarchy been established?" Jacob asked.

"No, we remain loyal to the Crown. Parliament rules in the stead of," she trailed off, "Do we have a Queen or a King? It has been a long time since we last heard."

"Queen. Elizabeth the second," Jacob replied.

"Elizabeth," Elenor echoed, eyes shining with interest before she shook her head, "No, I'm sorry that can wait. What else would you like to ask?"

Jacob tried to think of where to start, there was too much he didn't know. He glanced at Brea who was looking at him curiously. He realised she probably was listening to him speak, before Elenor's arrival he'd barely said more than Brea's name. The question came to him immediately.

"If this is New Britain, why don't these people speak English?" Jacob asked, then added, "And what language do they speak?"

"Ah, English is indeed the dominant language in most of New Britain, but some areas still hold onto the old language," Elenor answered, "It doesn't have a name as such. Rather it does, depending on the heritage of the speaker. It is a mixture of languages really, each newcomer brought new words and the language shifted with them."

Elenor gestured to the building before continuing, "These people have only recently come to New Britain, like many others. Most others near Oxford have been here a generation or two at the least."

Elenor paused again, then indicated Brea, "She only arrived a few years ago. She is here to wait for you, or rather someone from the Old World."

Jacob felt Brea tense beside him, knowing they were talking about her. Jacob squeezed her hand in comfort, meeting Elenor's eyes with a hint of caution.

"What, exactly, do you mean?" he asked pointedly.

The way Lady Elenor reacted was not at all as he expected. Certainly he had wanted her to be careful with her words, but clearly she read much more into his demeanour than he had intended. Her hands rose as if to shield herself from him, worry appearing on her face.

"I," she started, then faltering lowered her hands and swallowed her anxiety, "I am sorry if I offended, it was not my intention. Truly."

More strangeness. She looked like I was going to hit her.

Brea was looking at him with reproach, like he'd done something wrong. Which admittedly he might have, but who knows what exactly that had been.

"Let us chalk it up to cultural differences. But I still want an answer," Jacob said, rubbing his temple to ease the headache that was forming.

"She is what we call a Watcher Maiden," Elenor began slowly, careful with her words, "They belong to a group that has survived here for as long as recorded history. In fact that's part of what they do, record history."

"There is more to them than that," Elenor continued, "But the Maidens are selected, educated, then sent out to live all across the world. They wait for people to cross through to this world."

Jacob's thoughts spun. A group dedicated to waiting for people to appear? From what Elenor had said there had only been a few in the last three hundred odd years. To dedicate your life to such a small chance was unthinkable.

"Why?"

"That is something we will have to discuss later, once we have reached the Count's estate," Elenor replied evasively, "Which we will have to leave for soon."

Jacob was getting warier by the minute. It seemed that there were secrets hidden beneath everything in this world, even Brea. She was still listening to the conversation carefully, despite the language barrier.

"You may bring her if you wish. She will no doubt follow even if we left her here," Elenor said, noting Jacob watching Brea.

"I don't have a habit of forcing women to go places with me," Jacob responded tersely, "Why do you assume she would go?"

She's been waiting for you, probably for years you idiot.

"I understand there is some, difficulty, with a young man on this farm," Elenor said quietly, "It seems he was rather vocal about his interest in the young lady. I've been told she was quite vocal about her opposition, despite the fact she has nearly reached the end of her tenure."

Jacob though back to the angry looks among the farmers, and the way Brea had pulled away earlier. It made sense now.

"Her tenure?" Jacob asked.

"They only serve for four years. She has less than half a year remaining," Elenor replied.

"And how long is a year here?" Jacob asked.

"Ah, you will find this interesting no doubt. Time remains the same here as in the Old World. A day is a day, a year a year."

"That's not possible," Jacob said, shocked, "Or at the least so unlikely it might as well be."

"Exactly. It has been argued in depth by professors at The University for centuries. The rest of us merely accept it as true and move on," Elenor smiled as she spoke, "Although I think it will annoy you to no end."

Cheeky bloody...

Jacob shot her a look that conveyed all his annoyance, it was the wrong move, she simply smiled more.

You've just come to a world with two moons, where the British Empire still holds sway, through a bloody hole in the universe and the fact that the calendar is the same seems impossible?

"Ask her," Jacob said to change the subject, "I know your reasoning, but I still want to ask if she wants to come."

Elenor tipped her head to him respectfully, apparently whatever her problems with Brea, if indeed she had any, she did not like the idea of taking a woman against her will anymore than he did.

Their exchange was brief, Elenor's question polite, Brea's response instant and clearly a vigorous yes. Although she looked at him afterwards, the question in her eyes clear, was it what he wanted?

Jacob simply kissed her again. As their lips met and his heart raced with the sensation of her, part of him revelled in the lack of words between them. Speaking was very much overrated.

An unladylike noise came from Elenor's throat, breaking the moment and drawing the pair's attention too her. Jacob smiled when he saw her eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at the pair.

Well, it seems our Lady Elenor isn't used to public affection. Now I know what to do when she gets that smug look on her face.

"Lady Elenor, would you please ask Brea to gather her things?" Jacob asked, looking directly at Brea as he spoke, "I'm certain that you would like to leave soon."

Jacob could see Elenor gathering herself to respond out of the corner of his eye. As she opened her mouth to speak he turned to look at her finally, unsettling her once more. A petty trick, but an amusing one.

"Yes, well," Elenor said brokenly, "Actually her things are already stored with your own in my carriage. As I said earlier, there was little doubt she would be coming with you."

Jacob ignored her again, focusing on the conundrum that was Brea. What exactly was she to him, and more importantly what was he to her? Their connection was undeniable and her behaviour did not seem an affectation. People on this world would undoubtedly attempt to use him, if only for his knowledge of advances in the 'Old World'.

At least Brea, whatever her secret motives were, seemed interested in him as a person as well, not just a tool. That might be the best he could hope for.

And there is the way she is looking at me right now. I swear she looks ready to tear my clothes off right here.

Use your other head idi... You know what, to hell with it. When in Rome.

Jacob realised he'd started grinning like a fool and quickly put a more serious look on his face. Brea burst out laughing, and Elenor raised a hand to her mouth to hide her involuntary smirk. Jacob decided to put them both in their place and kissed Brea again.

Since he caught her mid laugh, when he pulled away she was breathing heavily, and, refreshingly, quiet. Elenor was suitably wide eyed as well.

"Shall we then?" Jacob asked smugly.

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The carriage ride was slow, but not boring. Brea had picked up on Elenor's discomfort with their affection, and had joined Jacob in teasing the poor governess. By the time they arrived, Elenor was practically ready to jump from the carriage while it was in motion. Jacob was finding the situation uncomfortable himself, or more specifically his jeans.

Dusk had come and gone midway through the journey, so the Count's estate was ensconced in shadows when they arrived. While the sight was muted, the grandeur of the place still exceeded Jacob's every expectation, which had not been terribly high after the farm. In place of the small manor his mind had imagined was a building that could have held it ten times over.

Built in the style of English country estates from the Old world, dozens upon dozens of windows looked out over the courtyard where they had arrived. Servants stood waiting for them despite the late hour. Or at least Jacob assumed it was a late hour, he had no idea what their policy was on daylight savings.

Jacob exited the carriage first, offering an arm to each of the women as they exited. It seemed the polite thing to do, and in this setting he felt an urge to act a bit more like a gentleman than he had been in the last few hours.

"Sir, allow me to extend the welcome of his Lordship, the Count Barclay. I am his valet, Conrad, at your service," said the stiff backed man clearly in charge of the gathering.

Summoning as much dignity as he could muster while wearing a T-shirt and jeans that had become much too tight, Jacob addressed the valet.

"It's good to meet you Conrad. I am grateful for the welcome, and the offer of hospitality that Lady Elenor extended on their behalf," Jacob said, hoping that his unfamiliarity with the courtesies of these people wouldn't offend anyone, "Until I can convey my gratitude in person, perhaps I could call upon you to express my appreciation to the Count and Countess?"

Conrad gave no sign as to whether or not the proper forms had been fulfilled, his expression remained unchanged, his posture fixed.

"Indeed sir, I will do just that. The Count is not in residence at this time, but her Ladyship has requested your presence at lunch tomorrow. If you will follow me I will show you to your rooms," Conrad said, voice ever formal, but making no move to leave.

"I will see you tomorrow at breakfast Mr Duncan," Lady Elenor said, "Until then."

"Until then," Jacob echoed, watching as the governess entered the manor through a small door beside the main entranceway, "Conrad, I would indeed like to see the rooms, and please inform her Ladyship I would be honored to lunch with her."

Conrad inclined his head before turning to lead them into the house. The inside was no less impressive than the outside. Lush carpets lined the hall, and candles gave off a warm light that illuminated ornate plasterwork.

Not exactly my style, but I could get used to it.

Brea took hold of his hand as they followed, when he looked at her she assumed the stiff backed posture of their guide, her face becoming a solemn mask. It was all Jacob could do to not burst out laughing. She kept it up until Conrad stopped in front of a door in front of them.

"Here you are sir. As you missed dinner I had the kitchens prepare a meal for you, it's waiting inside, along with your bags," Conrad said, opening the door to reveal a large and well furnished room, "I will leave you to your meal, unless there is anything else?"

The way he avoided looking at Brea drew attention to her presence. Jacob became very much aware of the fact they hadn't said anything regarding a room for Brea.

Maybe they aren't so stuffy after all?

Jacob glanced at Brea, who simply smiled back at him, eyes green and flickering in the candlelight.

Should I...

Rome. When in.

"No Conrad, I think that will be all," Jacob said, unable to take his eyes from Brea, "Have a good night."

Jacob thought he caught a small smile on Conrad's face, quickly quashed as he turned to look again.

"Indeed sir, a good night to you as well," Conrad said, somehow conveying humor in the absence of any mirth on his face.

Brea pulled him into the room as Conrad left, heading for the covered trays laid out on a beautifully carved sideboard against one wall. Pulling the lid from one she smiled at its contents, and covered it again. Jacob looked on, confused as she did the same with the other.