Chapter Text
New York, NY
Oct 1st 1888
Dear Lord Phantomhive,
I have received the letter which my Lord has had the kindness to write and am deeply grateful for this expression of tender sympathy. I will arrive in London on Thursday, October 21st, at 2 o’clock p.m., with my father’s remains. Words cannot express my sincere gratitude for Your Lordship’s aid in this hour of heavy affliction.
Yours sincerely,
Heloise Phantomhive
—
In Memory of
The Hon. Alan Phantomhive,
Professor of Zoology and Comparative Anatomy
11 June 1839 - 30 September 1888
“With malice toward none, with charity for all.”
The funeral will take place on Friday, October 22nd, at 1 o’clock p.m., from the Phantomhive Manor, to the Cemetery, after which service will be held in the Church.
Friends and acquaintances will please accept this intimation.
—
“I cannot find words to tell you how my whole heart is aching for you and for poor, poor Professor Phantomhive.”
“Darling, no one is more deeply and painfully touched by sympathy for you than we are. I wish we could offer you more than condolences.”
“My dear, I earnestly pray that you may be supported by Him to whom alone the sorely stricken can look for comfort, in this hour of heavy grief.”
Words. Sympathetic pats on the shoulder. The occasional hug. It’s all Heloise receives at the funeral. From guests that she has never met before in her life. Strangers.
Heloise thanks each and every one of the guests, sincerely. Even though she can’t recall a single name or face or even relationship to her father or herself. Too deep in her grief.
The sentiments are not unwelcome nor unappreciated, but what good does it do when her father whom she loved so much is gone?
—
Heloise doesn’t know how many hours have passed since the service ended. She’s not even sure when or how she walked here. But she finds herself alone, kneeling down in front of her father’s grave. The dirt is still damp, freshly tilled. It must be suffocating to be buried so deep beneath the earth.
The guests have all gone. It’s just her and the darkening sky above her.
Heloise realizes that she never even thought of lodging for the night. Too caught up in her own spiraling thoughts. She briefly wonders if she’ll survive a night here in the cemetery.
Poor Heloise is all alone, no friends or relatives to comfort her in this time of deep grief, much less offer lodging. She knows she needs to get up, to find a room, at least for the night. Her father taught her better than to be out alone after the sun sets. But it all feels so unimportant. What does it matter when all she really wants to do is lie down next to her father’s grave. She’s not even certain she has enough coins to pay for a room for the night.
“Cousin Heloise.”
Heloise looks up at the mention of her name. The boy–Lord Phantomhive–is looking down at her. She didn’t know he was still here.
“Yes, my lord?” Heloise’s voice is raspy. Her mouth is so dry, she can feel the scratchiness of her own tongue on the roof of her mouth.
“The sun is setting. We shall head back to the Manor now,” he says.
“Of course,” Heloise tilts her head down, “words cannot express my gratitude for your kindness, my lord.” And she waits for him to leave with her head bowed. A few seconds, and then some more.
“Then let’s go.” Heloise hears the lord say, and she looks up, caught by surprise. He clarifies, “ We are going back to the Manor. That includes you.”
Relief washes over Heloise. That is one problem solved for the night. But propriety stands that she must decline at least once. “My lord, I cannot possibly hope to inconvenience–”
“Nonsense,” he cuts her off before turning on his heels and walking away. “Come Cousin Heloise, before it gets darker,” he calls out again.
A gloved hand is extended to Heloise, by his lordship’s servant, and she takes it.
—
Two days have passed since the funeral and Heloise is loath to overstay her welcome at the Phantomhive Manor. Lord Phantomhive has been gracious enough to invite her to England, to organize and pay for her father’s funeral expenses, and to let her stay in his manor.
“Until you find your feet,” he told her at the night of the funeral.
Not to say that she does not appreciate his kindness, it’s just that Heloise truthfully doesn’t think she’ll ever find her feet in a world without her father. And of course his lordship’s kindness has limits. She cannot hope to live off of his generosity for the rest of her life.
And even though Heloise shares the same surname as Lord Phantomhive, they are both strangers to each other. She only just learned that she descended from English aristocracy after the death of her father. That there is even an Earl of Phantomhive, to whom she is related by blood to. Her first cousin no less. She likes to think that his lordship must also just recently learned of her existence.
And so that makes them strangers that share the same surname. Nothing more.
Yet for all her talk of estrangement, Heloise does not have a plan for herself; where to go, how to get there, what to do there. Though she supposes that’s the least of her worries, the most pressing being the state of her finances: non-existent.
Her father passed away and left her all of his property and assets: a chest of mens clothing and his book collection.
Alan Phantomhive was a professor of zoology who traveled the world in pursuit of fauna discovery. He’s published several volumes of fauna encyclopedias in hopes of spreading his discovery with the public. Money was the last thing on his mind, and Heloise knows that, having traveled with him her whole life.
Two knocks on the door of Heloise’s assigned room breaks her unending circle of depressing thoughts. She crosses the distance from the desk to the door in four quick steps and opens it.
“Good afternoon, Miss Phantomhive.” It’s the butler, Mr. Sebastian–she briefly wonders why everyone addresses him by his given name. “Lunch will be served shortly. Shall I escort you to the dining room?”
“Yes please.” Heloise steps out her room and closes the door behind her. “Thank you, Mr. Sebastian.”
He smiles at her. “It’s my pleasure, Miss Phantomhive.”
He’s so polished. Heloise isn’t sure why she’s so impressed. Of course a lord would employ only the best professionals to work in his household.
The walk to the dining room is quick. Mr. Sebastian excuses himself to fetch his master and Heloise is left alone again.
Such a huge manor lived in by just one person. A lord, yes, but still just one. It’s so empty, and Heloise wonders how Lord Phantomhive stands it. Despite all his pomp, he’s a child. It must get lonely, right?
There is the household staff. Heloise has seen them out and about, but they are employees paid to be there. She doubts they engage much with the lord.
“Cousin Heloise.”
Lord Phantomhive looks sharp in his suit. She wonders if she’ll look as prim and proper as him if she has access to excessive generational wealth. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she shares the same shade of hair as the young lord, but somehow his seem to shine brighter in the light.
“Lord Phantomhive, thank you for having me.”
Lunch is served and it’s easily one of the best meals Heloise has ever had. All the meals served in the manor thus far have been exceptional. It seems almost unfair that she’s here enjoying all of these luxuries while her father is not, buried six feet under the earth.
“Cousin Heloise, do you have experience in administration and dealing with correspondence?” Lord Phantomhive asks. It shouldn’t be surprising, but it does catch Heloise a little off guard that he talks of matters like this.
“I suppose so, my lord. I have been involved with all of my father’s work. Administration and proofreading manuscripts.” Heloise’s dream is to continue her father’s work and become a renowned zoologist of her own. She wants to publish the next volumes of fauna encyclopedias under her own name.
Lord Phantomhive continues to look at her, as if assessing, and it takes a lot of effort for her to not shy away. She didn’t know a child could be so intimidating.
“I am in need of a private secretary. Someone capable of supporting my duties and official engagements,” he explains. “Is that something that interests you, Cousin Heloise?”
Is he offering her employment?
Heloise wants to cry. She hasn’t done anything enough to receive this much kindness.
And maybe she’s not as good at hiding her tears as she ought to be, because Lord Phantomhive’s visible eye widens and he backtracks, “I did not mean to offend you. Don’t cry!”
“No! Not at all!” Heloise’s nose is stuffy. She can imagine that she must look a mess right now. “I am very touched by your kindness, my lord. I apologize for my unsightly appearance.”
Lord Phantomhive averts his eye as he offers her a handkerchief. “Let us discuss the details on paper in my study.”
—
Private Secretary to The Earl of Phantomhive
Household/Department
The Household of The Earl of Phantomhive
Location
Phantomhive Manor
Contract/recruitment type
Permanent
Hours of work
40 hours per week
About the role
The Private Secretary supports The Earl in all aspects of his duties and official engagements both in the United Kingdom and overseas.
Based mainly at Phantomhive Manor, but requiring flexibility to work in London as well, the role and responsibilities are wide and varied, advising and supporting The Earl in all matters. The Private Secretary will plan and organize the official programme, where necessary accompanying The Earl on visits in the UK and abroad, control expenditure and budgets, and deal with all correspondence.
—
Heloise reads over the papers and wants to cry again.
These terms and the compensation package is beyond generous. She qualifies for the position, and a lot of the experiences working for her father translates well to this role. But what gets to her is the compensation amount. It’s above the market salary for a role like this–though it might be because this role reports directly to the Earl. This is clearly not an average secretarial job.
In addition to that, room and board is also part of the compensation package. She doesn’t have to worry about accommodation, or meals, or even transportation. Her life would practically be expense-free and she can save up all of her salary.
“I can give you until the end of the week to decide or even negotiate the terms,” Lord Phantomhive says from across his desk.
Heloise is a charity project and she knows it. But she doesn’t have enough shame to even pretend to decline the offer for propriety’s sake. How could she? When the offer itself is a miracle.
“There is no need, my lord.” Heloise grabs a fountain pen on the desk. “I am ready to sign if your lordship would still have me.”
Lord Phantomhive rests his cheek on his palm. “I do expect professionalism and for you to perform well.”
Heloise nods. “Of course, my lord. Please rest assured I am capable and qualified for this role.”
“Good.”
—
Nothing feels better than financial security.
Well, short of her father never passing away, financial security is the best Heloise could get.
Life has been kind to her for the past week. Lord Phantomhive has had her work on papers of mostly correspondence and the estate’s expenditure. It’s not bad at all. Heloise has decent enough penmanship and she’s good with numbers. Her office is in the library and her working hours are from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., with lunch at noon.
Lord Phantomhive made it clear that Mr. Sebastian and the rest of the household staff are at her service should she need anything. And Mr. Sebastian has been very helpful and kind. He was the one to show her her desk and give her a tour of the library so she can find everything she needs. Every morning he brings in all the stacks of paperwork she would need to work. He even showed her what her expected finished assignments should look like.
Heloise has the feeling that this role used to be part of Mr. Sebastian’s job. She can only hope that he has no ill-will towards her, and that maybe her employment helps take a little bit off of his plate. But not the amount of his compensation.
“Miss Phantomhive, your afternoon tea.”
Heloise jumps a little bit on her seat. She didn’t hear him come into the library at all. Mr. Sebastian places a cup of hot tea on her desk. It smells divine. She really needs to stop getting lost in her own thoughts, it’s not professional at all.
“Thank you, Mr. Sebastian.” Heloise quickly puts the papers she’s working on away, lest it gets accidentally spilled on. “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to. I don’t want to trouble you anymore than I already have.”
“It’s no trouble at all Miss Phantomhive,” he answers as he cuts a serving piece of a beautiful fruit pie. Heloise’s mouth is watering at the sight of it, and she knows that she must decline for propriety’s sake, but by god she will start crying if he takes it away. “As the young master said, I am at your service.”
He serves the plate in front of her. “Today’s afternoon snack is a Classic French Fruit Tart, made with raspberries, blueberries and blackberries. In season fruits.”
Heloise looks up at him, hoping that her expression conveys the whole extent of her gratitude.
“Please enjoy,” Sebastian finishes with a smile.
And that first bite sure is the best thing that has ever happened to her. “This is so good. The chef must have hands blessed by the heavens or something.”
“Or something,” Sebastian says, like he finds it funny.
—