Title: The Libertine
Author: sweet_heloise 
Pairings: Chuck/Blair
Rating: R
Setting: Victorian Era, England
Summary: She was Lady Blair Waldorf (pristine, regal, perfect). Meanwhile, Chuck had become something of a...libertine.

A/N: Finally! I wrote and re-wrote this chapter so many times. And I'm still not satisfied with it, LOL. But...ah, oh well. I hope you guys liked it :D. And if you catch any spelling/grammatical errors let me know! Thanks! Also, reviews are helpful and encouraging :)

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Chapter 6

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“Preposterous!”

“You can’t be serious, Nathaniel…”

Anne and Howard Archibald stood facing him – the weak figure of his mother looking surprisingly daunting to him at the moment. They had initially welcomed him with open arms. There had been tears of joy passed all around – from his feeble-bodied mother to his short-tempered father. But he knew – Nathaniel knew it wouldn’t last long.

And he’d be the one to bring about its end.

That was when he told them he’d gone and gotten himself an American wife.

The color had drained from both of their faces.

“Your grandfather would never agree to it,” Mrs. Archibald warned – her voice soft as her husband helped her into a chair. There was no venom in her words – there never was. All his life, Nathaniel had only ever known his mother to be ill – never strong, never domineering like his grandfather. Vanderbilt blood ran thin for the Archibald’s – his mother too weak, him too disinterested.

“You see what you’ve done to your mother,” his father bit out. “First you break off your engagement with that Waldorf girl and now – now this American girl?”

“I’m right here, you know.” Vanessa appeared then, Daniel in tow.

His mother gasped at the sight of her, grasping the arm of her chair for support. Nate could only imagine what was going through her mind – a nameless, penniless American dressed in a plain frock and tattered shoes.

“Her?” his mother wheezed. “She is to carry the Vanderbilt legacy?”

“She has a name, thank you very much,” Vanessa huffed, hands on her hips as she addressed Nathaniel’s mother. “And I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Horrified, his mother cried out – putting a hand over her forehead in distress. “Our only son!”

“I thought I told you to stay in the car,” he sighed. “Both of you.”

“You said a few minutes and it’s been hours,” Vanessa huffed. “Dan is hungry and I was getting impatient.”

They talked over his mother’s painful groans when finally his father spoke – boiling rage evident on his reddened face. “I don’t know who you think you are,” his father roared, pointing a finger at the American. “But you will leave this home immediately! Before I have you thrown out!” He pointed at Dan next. “Both of you!”

“Hey now,” Dan interrupted, waving his hands in mock surrender. “There’s no need for –”

“You can’t talk to me that way!” Vanessa shouted, addressing the elder Mr. Archibald. “Who do you think you are?”

And the shouting commenced. Amidst a flurry of finger-pointing, name-calling, and his mother’s cries of woe in the background, Nathaniel began to feel a painful throb in his head. He took a step backward, trying his best to take control – to calm his father, to ease his mother’s anxieties. He just – he didn’t know – couldn’t…

He only ever wanted what was best – all he ever wanted was to please his parents. But now…now he wanted them to know all the sacrifices he’d made – for them. He wanted them to know it was his turn now – his turn to live his life.

But it was no use. The pain was mind-numbing and it seared right through his skull.

He took another step backward, voices echoing in and out his head.

Then…it felt as if his soul was being lifted out of his body – and he was looking through someone else’s eyes.

And if he let his mind drift…

Nate saw those eyes were a cerulean blue – soft yet vibrant, alive and so, so beautiful.

And if he let himself drift further, he could imagine long strands of gold with those shining cerulean eyes. Golden hair – brighter than the sunshine, that was never-ending and seemed to caress him everywhere, always.

And then it was her – her hands that were caressing him, her lips that gently soothed the pain right out of him. With her, he never felt so healthy and so strong. She is bright and she is golden. And all he wants to do for the rest of his life is to love her – to love her in their little cocoon of sunshine and cerulean and warm caresses.

But it wasn’t easy. It’s isn’t easy.

“I love you.”

Her voice cracks. “You can’t.”

“Let me love you.” He’s insistent.

“I can’t.”

– And the cocoon burst.

Nate groaned, rubbing his temples with the palm of his hand.

“Will everyone just shut up?!” he shouted, sending a venomous glare to everyone in the room.

Everyone, even his mother, was silent then – watching Nathaniel with wide eyes.

“Now,” he started, clearing his throat. “Miss Abrams – Vanessa – and I are married.” He scanned the room, looking out at the different faces. His father’s nostrils were flared and he was breathing hard. The corners of his mother’s eyes were brimming with tears. Vanessa’s face was curious, Daniel’s a bit more anxious. “So I am not marrying Georgina Sparks – or, for that matter, any other woman you deem suitable for the Vanderbilt ring.” He looked at Vanessa, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I’ve found the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He nodded and she smiled back. “And that is something Grandfather can’t do a thing about.”

---

They decided on picnic for brunch.

Amongst Evelyn’s roses, under warm sunshine, it was the perfect setting.

And so the blankets were laid out and food placed neatly into baskets.

It was a small affair but Blair, for the life of her, couldn’t help but nitpick and worry over every little thing.

After all, her parents were coming – visiting her in her new home. And while she wasn’t too concerned about her father (he loved her unconditionally), Eleanor Waldorf was a completely different story. Bartholomew Bass was someone Blair could handle – Eleanor Waldorf, not so much.

And so she and Chuck had devised the perfect plan.

Blair would sit with Bartholomew and keep him company.

Chuck would sit with Eleanor and keep her company.

And neither of them would be burdened by their respective parent’s endless scrutinizing and criticisms.

It was the perfect plan, Blair thought to herself. If it worked, that is.

Unfortunately, her mother wasn’t the only thing on Blair’s list of concerns that morning. Serena had been feeling lackluster and depressed all day – and it was so unlike her best friend that Blair couldn’t help but worry. She told herself that it was the pregnancy, though. It made sense. The side-effects of Serena’s condition were endless – nausea in the morning, nausea in the afternoon, nausea in the evening. No wonder Serena was feeling so blue. Still, she couldn’t have Serena putting a damper on the festivities. She needed to keep Eleanor happy – happy at all costs.

“Serena!” Chuck and Eric both winced at Blair’s shrill voice. “At least try to smile. We don’t want the guests figuring out your little…situation, do we?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Oh, you mean haven’t already told them yourself?” she asked bitterly.

“I apologized for that,” Blair responded with a huff. “How many times do I have to repeat it? And I only told my husband, the person I am bound to by matrimony. You are the one who told Eric and you did it all by yourself.”

“Only because you told Chuck!”

“I had to!”

And the ceaseless bickering began.

Eric groaned, resisting the childish urge to cover his ears. He turned to Chuck, giving him a pointed look. His step-brother only shrugged and walked towards the gardens where the blankets and baskets had been set out. Eric quickly followed after him – anything to get away from his sister-in-law and her best friend.

“I hate when they argue,” Eric told him, a troubled look on his face.

“Yes,” Chuck agreed. “It is rather…grating, isn’t it? They’re like a pair of squealing kittens.”

“Kittens?” Eric remarked, amused.

“Learn this, Eric.” Chuck clasped a hand around his shoulder. “Women are strange creatures and one should never get in the middle of their arguments.”

---

Chuck watched the guests appear with his step-brother at his side. They had invited a few close family members and friends – Bartholomew Bass, Harold and Eleanor Waldorf, Marcus and Louisa Beaton, Joshua and Sophia Middleton…

Well – as close as one could get, he supposed.

He hadn’t properly spoken to Serena for a number of days now. They would exchange a few formalities, greeting each other for the day, before going back to ignoring each other. The tension between them was unsettling but it would pass eventually, Chuck knew. And perhaps then everything would go back to the way it was. Of course, with a baby on the way, he wasn’t sure what that supposed normalcy entailed.

Eric had taken the news exceptionally well, to Chuck and Blair’s surprise. He hadn’t asked about the father or worried about the future. Instead, he’d hugged his sister and asked about her well-being, her health. It was Eric’s way – always the negotiator. His aim was to keep everyone happy, to avoid bringing trouble unto his family. It was a horrible burden but one that Eric felt was his duty to bear. He was the rational-minded one in the family. As such, he couldn’t afford to be led astray. He had to be the sane one – always.

Then there was Bart – the only (proper) father Serena and Eric had ever known.

He was still in the dark about Serena’s pregnancy. In fact, the blonde wasn’t sure she could ever bring herself to tell him. And neither Chuck nor Blair would push her into doing so either – especially when it came to the Bass patriarch.

Bartholomew had been more than thrilled to see his step-daughter. And thrilled in Bass speak was just the slightest curve of the mouth and a quick, curt nod. Not that anyone expected him to cry tears of joy. It was the perfect response coming from one Bartholomew Bass. Despite his seriousness and coldness, he was the only father figure Serena and Eric had ever known – which was why Serena just couldn’t tell him about her situation.

And so Serena donned on her little hat, sat between Eric and Blair, and pretended like nothing was the matter. She didn’t cup her belly, like she’d been so prone to doing ever since she found out about her condition. She simply sat and ate and carried conversation like she was a simple (uncomplicated) English girl returning from a simple two-year stay abroad. And if anyone asked her about America, Serena would smile and nod and talk about the wonderful people, the wonderful places, and the wonderful things to do.

But if she let her mind drift, even just a little…she would imagine…strong arms. She would imagine wisps of ash blonde hair falling over his forehead…and deep blue eyes that could see right through her. And it took her back to that night – that night with soft whimpers and low chuckling, flesh against flesh, her heart beating with in tune with his…

“Miss Van der Woodsen.”

Serena blinked.

“Serena,” Blair hissed, nudging the blonde with her elbow. “Lady Beaton is asking you something?”

“Oh! I – my thoughts get carried away from me sometimes…” She laughed nervously.

“That’s quite alright,” Louisa Beaton replied. “I was asking about your future prospects. You’re at a marriageable age and you’ve traveled abroad – seen America. Now that you’ve returned, a single woman such as yourself must be in want of a good husband – to settle down?”

“I…I suppose I haven’t really thought about it,” Serena started.

“Come now!” Marcus spoke up. “Surely you jest. Isn’t there a young man out there who catches your fancy?”

“I…”

Then it was Chuck’s voice, cutting her off. “I believe your interrogation verges on impropriety, Lord Beaton.”

“I agree,” Blair quickly responded. “It’s best that we pay heed to our own affairs than that of others. Serena will marry when the time is right.”

“Blair, dear,” Eleanor spoke up, her expression married by slight confusion. “Lady Beaton is simply asking whether or not Serena has thought about –”

“Mother, please.” Blair sighed as an uncomfortable silence fell on them.

Serena bit her bottom lip, guiltily looking around at the small party – Blair and her mother were staring daggers at each other, Bartholomew looked as if he were trying to decipher a very complicated puzzle, and Louisa Beaton’s cheeks were tinged pink. Then she felt Eric reach out and grab her gloved hand, squeezing it in reassurance. She smiled at her brother and suddenly felt the strength to speak again.

“Your question is well taken, Lady Beaton,” Serena said, addressing the young woman. “To be honest, I have thought about marriage – what a good husband would bring. But here I am, with my brothers and my sister, and I couldn’t be happier as if I were married. As Lady Westbury pointed out, I will marry – when the time is right. And love – I will marry for love. That’s all anyone could ever ask for, isn’t it?”

---

Jenny glanced out the window where the entire household was gathered for brunch. She let her gaze wander once or twice before she finally gave up the menial task of sweeping the kitchen floor. She could only watch, completely enthralled. It was a small window (literally) into the lives of the upper class. They could afford to park themselves down for an entire just for a picnic. Working class people couldn’t afford that luxury. They actually had to work. Jenny herself couldn’t imagine ever having the time to throw a frivolous picnic. She was always busy working, working, and working.

The sound of giggling interrupted her mid-thought and quickly she retreated from the window, pretending to be hard at work. She didn’t look up when Hazel and Penelope neared but she knew from the voices it was them.

“Did you hear about the masquerade ball, Lady Westbury’s throwing?” Penelope asked.

Of course, Jenny had heard about the ball – that stupid ball. She had been in the room when Lady Westbury had come up with the idea and then dismissed the very notion that Jenny could attend.

“I may have heard something,” she replied.

“Well, I imagine that it’s going to be just spectacular,” Penelope giggled.

Hazel nodded, twirling around the room as if she were dancing. “The clothes and the men and the dancing and, oh!” She smacked her lips. “The food. Think of all the food, Little Jenny.”

“I’m interested in the men,” Penelope said with a snort and a giggle. “I want to snatch one up for myself – a rich one, that is.”

“You should be so lucky, you poor hag!” Hazel scoffed, stopping her dance to address the other girl. “Only a chimney sweeper would marry you.”

Penelope gasped in indignation. “You take that back Hazel Williams! If I marry a chimney sweeper, then you’re marrying a shoe shiner.”

“I don’t care so long as I marry for love,” the other girl haughtily responded.

“Fat lot that’ll do you!”

The more the two girls bickered, the more and more Jenny found herself drifting off again. Hazel was right. Neither of them would marry a particularly wealthy man. They would marry a poverty-stricken fool, claiming to love them, and then bear him eight children. Jenny could just gag at the awful thought.

“I decided we’re going to the ball,” Jenny declared suddenly, drawing both girls’ attention. They looked at each other, raising an eyebrow before turning to the younger.

“We’re not invited, Little Jenny. We’re maids – we can’t attend the ball,” Hazel explained.

“Think about it Hazel. Lady Westbury will be so busy hosting and everyone will be wearing masks. How will they know it’s us?” the blonde replied, grinning deviously. “We won’t go as ourselves, of course. We’ll create fake names and sneak in through the kitchen. We already have keys.”

Hazel and Penelope exchanged a look before breaking out into smiles of their own. The two were already prone to and well-acquainted with wickedness. “My, my, Little Jenny,” Penelope started. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“But what will we wear?” Hazel asked, expression souring. “All the ladies will be in expensive gowns shipped from Paris. All I have in my closet is this drab old thing my mother gave me.”

“I can sew,” Jenny offered. “We’ll throw our money together and buy the fabric. I’ll need your help, though.”

“Sew ourselves?” Penelope raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry but that doesn’t sound glamorous in the least.”

“I’d rather stay home than be a laughingstock at the most important ball of the year,” Hazel agreed.

“We won’t,” Jenny assured her. “It might not be as beautiful as the other ladies but no one will laugh at us. I assure you. And it will be an adventure. I’ve never been to a ball before, have you?”

The look exchanged between the two girls confirmed they hadn’t.

“Oh, fine,” Penelope sighed, smirking slightly.

“Me too,” Hazel smiled.

She squealed, twirling around the room once more before throwing her arms around Jenny and squeezing her into a hug. Penelope giggled and Jenny found herself laughing right along with them. It truly was going to be an adventure – a magical night none of them would ever forget. That was for sure.