4. New Acquaintances

As a boy they had called him overly sensitive. Too able to pick up on the feelings of others. Too much affected by atmosphere and mood. The dark side of being Omegan, although of course no one had realised it at the time. His father and uncle, while Betan and Alphan respectively, had nevertheless done what they could to help him.

'Why not try fishing, Will?' Mr Crawford suggested, after one particularly vindictive great-aunt, paying the Grahams a rare visit during Will's thirteenth year, was sent on her way after refusing to sit at table with 'the little fey bastard'. 'Fishing is extremely beneficial to both body and mind. It will allow you space and freedom to clear your head.'

Mr Graham, upon his return from practically pushing the offensive woman back into her carriage, nodded sagely. 'Listen to your uncle, Will. He knows what he is about.'

'Would you teach me, Father?'

Placing a comforting hand on Will's shoulder, Mr Graham replied gruffly, 'Of course, my boy.'

And Uncle Crawford's eyes were kind on Will's distraught face. 'We both shall. Fishing, Will. That is the answer. And riding.'

'Bloom is accustomed to being ridden side-saddle,' Will sniffed. 'She is too skittish with me.'

'Which is why we have bought you a horse of your own,' Mr Graham told him with a gentle smile. 'Come out and meet him.'

And so, between riding Winston and spending long hours either sitting patiently on the bank of a lake or standing waist-high in the cold waters of his favourite stream, Will had found excellent ways of coping with distress.

Neither of which he had access to in his current situation.

'Will, what it?'

Pacing restlessly in his sister's room, Will shook his head. 'Nothing. I – wish we could return home today, that is all.'

He could feel Alana's eyes on him, full of love and concern. 'How was breakfast?'

'I did not go down for breakfast.'

'Oh Will, why not?'

'He – they – do not want me.' Pushing a hand through his hair, Will sat down beside Alana on the edge of the bed. 'Could not we write to Mama to send the carriage?'

'She will not want to. You know Mama. She will be determined for us to stay full a week.' Alana's voice was softly sympathetic. 'He?'

Will looked down at his feet. 'Mr Lecter.'

Alana covered his hand with her own. 'Why do you think he does not want you here?'

'I can feel his disapproval. It radiates from him every time I draw near.'

'You were very teasing with him yesterday. Why?'

He shrugged. 'I was – adapting to my surroundings.'

'You were adapting to him.' Alana's eyes were shrewd on his face. 'I know you, little brother. You are very much like a chameleon in that way. But why so fierce?'

He turned to her then with a half-smile. 'If you were in a lion's den, would you fare better as another lion or as a lamb?'

Alana chuckled. 'Is that what Mama has done? Fed us to the lions?'

'Has not she?'

'I would say that you and Mr Lecter were evenly matched last night.'

'I think not,' muttered Will.

Perhaps the previous morning... But he was beginning to think that he had imagined the hours they had spent together in such perfect accord. How quickly afterwards Hannibal had reverted to his initial contempt. Even Will's Omegan status was not, it seemed, inducement enough for the disdainful Alpha to forgive his shameful past.

By-blow. The memory mocked his tentative hopes of friendship.

Alana placed her hand on Will's arm. 'Would you like me to ask the Vergers if we could borrow their carriage?'

The gratitude which rushed through Will at this suggestion was curtailed slightly when Miss Verger, upon hearing their petition over breakfast, begged Alana to defer their departure at least until the following morning.

'I then can be assured of your being quite fit to travel,' she said anxiously.

Alana cast a pleading look at Will who, sighing inwardly, gave a slight nod. He should, he supposed, take some responsibility for the tensions which had resurfaced between himself and Hannibal. He had sensed that the Alpha was unaccustomed to 'teasing', as Alana had put it, but had persevered anyway, needled by Hannibal's relapse into arrogance in the company of his friends. And, if he was to be completely honest, the sight of Mason Verger fawning over Hannibal in the shrubbery had sparked in him a feeling of discontent so sharp, his instinctive response had been to lash out, repaying Hannibal's chivalry with laughing scorn.

Perhaps if he attempted to relax his guard on this, their final day, he and Hannibal would be able to talk again as they had previously. It would be a pity to leave with only contention between them. Unaccustomed as he was to making new friends, Will was reluctant to relinquish this strange sense of kinship with the infuriating, intriguing, opinionated Alpha.

The men of the house having departed early for a day of shooting, and Mrs Cordell still abed with a headache, they were a small party and, Will considered, the happier for it. A quiet morning was spent reading; and after lunch, conscious that Alana was tiring, he watched with a smile as Miss Verger escorted her upstairs, before venturing outside.

It was a fine day for being outdoors: crisply cold, sun shining low in a blue sky, russet leaves crunching underfoot. The leaf-strewn lawn was empty, save for a single occupant: beneath the shade of a large old oak lay Ripper, gnawing on a stick. At Will's approach he bolted up onto all fours, head cocked expectantly. Will grinned.

'You look just like him when you do that. Leave you behind, did he?'

At first encounter, Will had presumed the Great Dane to belong to the Vergers. It was only upon returning to the house that he had learned from a passing footman the identity of the dog’s owner. Realising that he had been playing rough and tumble with Hannibal's dog had been... disconcerting.

After a time spent wandering the gardens with the black dog panting vapour at his side, whimsy steered Will back to the shaded tranquility of the pond. Expecting to find there only the sleepy koi for additional company, he was full surprised to discover Hannibal sitting sketching, once more absorbed fully in his task.

Until, that was, Ripper took it upon himself to announce their presence with a series of ear-piercing barks, whereupon Hannibal looked up. For an instant, some unnameable emotion flitted across his face before his expression smoothed to careful blankness.

'Mr Graham.'

'Mr Lecter.' Hesitant, Will watched Ripper trot over to his master and settle at his feet. 'It was my understanding that you were out shooting today.'

'Was it?'

For a moment there was silence, broken only by the chimes of the church bell.

'Mr Verger and Mr Cordell?'

'Are out shooting.'

'Oh.' Taking a few steps forward, Will stopped again as he registered the tension emanating from Hannibal. It thrummed in the air between them and Will longed suddenly to dissipate it.

This was partially my doing.

'Is there something that I can help you with, Mr Graham?'

He felt with a shudder the cold steel of Hannibal's gaze and replied, with a measure of uncertainty, 'Alana and I shall be leaving tomorrow. If you have no objection, I would like very much to hear more of your travels in Italy before –'

But his voice trailed away as Hannibal rose, pad and pencil clenched in his hands.

'My apologies. I had not realised the hour. I beg you will excuse me.'

And bowing smartly, he walked away; though not, Will noticed with confusion, in the direction of the house.

Chest tightening with the pain of rejection, he slumped onto the nearest bench.

Fool. This is what comes of attempting to make new friends.

As if sensing Will's despondency, Ripper padded up and butted his thigh. He bent to pat the dog, blinking back tears. 'At least you have not abandoned me.'

***

It was a subdued party that gathered for their final evening together. Miss Verger's spirits were decidedly low; and Alana, though she bore their prospective parting with her usual fortitude, was noticeably quieter than usual. Even Mr Verger was not unaffected by the coming separation; although Will was acidly amused to witness how, predictably, his Alpha host's emotions ran in the opposite direction of the others'. All through dinner, he talked most animatedly of his latest fancy pig procurement and his plans for creating an entirely new breed. The fact that he received no response at all save the occasional smile from Mrs Cordell discouraged him not a whit – indeed, the general lack of loquaciousness seemed encouragement enough for endless elucidation.

As for Hannibal, he seemed utterly determined to forget that Will even existed. This despite the fact that at one point during the evening they were left alone in the drawing room for full half an hour. But glare as he might at that sleek blonde head, Will could not provoke Hannibal to look up from his book. Will's initial feelings at being on the receiving end of such treatment – bewilderment, hurt, remorse over his own previous behaviour – soon gave way to burning indignation. And by the day's end, he was resolved to think of Hannibal only as the prideful antagonist of their first meeting. The moments of understanding which they had shared over the course of his stay had been mere fragments of time, too fragile to hold their shape.

Thus resigned, Will was wholly unsurprised when Hannibal failed to accompany the Vergers in taking leave of their houseguests the next morning. He could only imagine that Hannibal had decided to cut him because there was something about him more wrong and reprehensible, according to Hannibal's ideas of right, than in any other person. The supposition gave him fresh pain which he suppressed with grim fortitude. Such prejudice was not a new experience for him, nor would it in all likelihood be the last.

***

'I hope, my dear,' said Mr Graham to his wife, as they were at breakfast the next morning, 'that you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.'

The squeal which issued forth from the robust tonsils of Mrs Graham drew winces from all present. 'It is Miss Verger, I am sure! Why, Alana, you sly thing. To say not a word to your poor mama!'

'But I know of no such plan,' protested Alana, looking to Will in confusion.

He squeezed her hand and turned to Mr Graham. 'Father, do not tease. Who is it?'

'I shall first tell you who it is not,' replied Mr Graham, clearly enjoying himself. 'It is not Miss Verger. It is a gentleman and a stranger.'

'Is it an officer?' piped up Abigail, positively giddy with excitement.

Will rolled his eyes. Since the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood, all that Abigail and Fredricka could talk of were officers and red coats.

'No, child,' said Mr Graham witheringly. 'It is not an officer. But pray defer your disappointment until you have heard all.' And picking up a folded slip of paper from the table, he continued, 'A short while ago I received this letter. It is from my cousin, Mr Franklyn, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases.'

'Oh, my dear!' cried Mrs Graham, face turning purple, 'Pray do not speak of that odious man! I do think it is the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be entailed away from your own children.'

Will shook his head with a wry smile. 'It is hardly Mr Franklyn's doing, Mama. You know very well that by law only Alpha and Beta males are permitted to inherit property.'

'His writing to us is an impertinence,' she insisted stubbornly.

'Ah well,' sighed Mr Graham. 'Although it seems that nothing can clear Mr Franklyn from the guilt of inheriting Wolf Manor, I beg you would listen to his letter all the same.'

Eyes twinkling, he unfolded the paper and began reading.

'Dear Sir,

I have wished for some time to heal the breach subsisting between yourself and my late, lamented, honoured father. Having had the misfortune to lose him, I made up my mind to proffer an olive-branch to your good self and your family.

Lately ordained into the Church, I have been so fortunate as to be looked on with favour by the Right Honourable Lady Bedelia du Maurier, who has granted me her patronage as well as a valuable living and the rectory of her family's parish.

I feel it my duty, in my new role, to promote peace and love in all, a sentiment of which I am sure my esteemed patroness would approve. Indeed, she has graciously granted me leave to visit you, and I hope to do so presently, arriving at your abode on Monday the eighteenth of November by four o'clock and departing twelve days afterwards, on the morning of Saturday the thirtieth of November, in all probability at around ten o’clock in the morning.

In conclusion, I wish to assure you that I come ready to make every possible amends to your amiable children – but of this I shall speak more when we are better acquainted.

I remain your friend,

F Franklyn.'

Listening with ever-increasing incredulity, Will found himself feeling gratitude for the entertaining distraction which this unseen cousin promised to provide.

'What a pompous ass,' he derided, as Mr Graham looked around expectantly. 'How old is he?'

Mr Graham wrinkled his brow. 'I would say no more than five-and-twenty. Why do you ask?'

'He writes as someone of five-and-sixty,' snorted Will.

'Will Graham, that is quite enough,' chastised Mrs Graham, in a sharp about-face which quite surprised her youngest daughters, though Will and Alana exchanged knowing looks. 'If Mr Franklyn wishes to right the wrong done to your father then I will not say nay to him. And neither will you.'

'Yes, Mama,' he replied dutifully, and suppressed a smile when he caught his father's wink.

***

Mr Franklyn was everything that Will had hoped.

At precisely four o'clock, a public chaise drew up outside the house and out climbed a short, heavy-set young man with a neatly-trimmed black beard and mournful dark eyes. He bowed flamboyantly to the assembled family and was ushered promptly indoors by Mr Graham where, within five minutes of sitting down, their visitor pronounced that he had no doubt such a fine set of offspring would, in due time, be easily disposed of in marriage.

'In point of fact, Lady Bedelia has kindly condescended to advise me to marry as soon as possible,' he added with a sly wink, which Will noted with some alarm seemed to be directed at himself. 'But perhaps that is a subject best saved for another time. Now, let me guess.'

And looking at Alana, he exclaimed, 'Omegan!'

'I beg your pardon?' gasped the young lady, as Will clapped a hand over his mouth to hide his grin.

'No, wait... Alphan!'

Alana's cheeks were by now fiery red. 'Mr Franklyn, please!'

'No, no, do not tell me.' And pointing a finger straight across the dining table, he pronounced triumphantly, 'Betan. You are Betan, are not you?'

Snorting with laughter, Will rose with alacrity and grasped his mortified sister by the elbow. 'Come, Alana,' he choked, feigning a coughing fit as he bundled her towards the door. 'We are no doubt wanted about the mince pies.'

***

The only people who seemed at all to admire their odd guest were Molly and Mrs Graham. Molly had sighed in admiration over the stately composition of Mr Franklyn's introductory letter; and all through the interminable evening which followed dinner, she gazed at the peacocking fool in undisguised awe as he read aloud from Fordyce's Sermons, while the younger girls yawned and Mr Graham dozed off in his favourite chair. Mrs Graham's interest in the Beta was easier to understand. Were he to choose his spouse from among the Graham children, then the issue of the entailment would be rendered moot.

'I daresay Lady Bedelia is very agreeable,' said Mrs Graham, taking advantage of a rare moment of silence as Mr Franklyn sipped tentatively from his glass of port wine shortly after finishing the sermon on sobriety. 'Does she live near you?'

Mr Franklyn's eyes immediately brightened. 'The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Fell Park, her ladyship's residence.'

'Only a lane? How fortunate for you,' commented Will blandly. He was rewarded with a kick from Alana and a gratified smile from Mr Franklyn.

'Indeed, my dear cousin, indeed.'

'And has she any family?' continued Mrs Graham, all agog.

'One son, Francis, the heir of Fell Park. He is,' confided Mr Franklyn in hushed tones, 'unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented him from being much in society.'

In great danger of disgracing himself by lapsing into snorts of laughter, Will took the awkward pause which followed this statement to excuse himself on the pretext of checking on the horses. There was no doubt that this was going to be a very long twelve days.

***

The next morning, Abigail pestered and pleaded to be allowed to walk into the village; and so Will was enlisted to accompany his youngest sister, along with Fredricka and the ubiquitous Mr Franklyn.

'Come with us, Alana, I beg you,' groaned Will, having hunted for her all over the house as the others waited in the hallway, finally finding her sitting reading in the quiet of her room. 'Do not condemn me to deal with this alone.'

His sister immediately put down her book and smiled. 'Lay on, Macduff.'

Ostensibly wishing to shop for new bonnets, as soon as they entered the high street Abigail and Fredricka spotted their true quarry: one of the Alpha officers, Mr Randall, who had dined frequently at the Grahams' in Will and Alana's absence. Waving frantically at him from across the street, they were reduced to fits of giggles as he waved in return and walked over in the company of a young man whom they had never seen before.

Will observed, curiosity piqued, as the stranger was introduced by Mr Randall as Mr Matthew Brown, who had lately accepted a commission in the corps. Dressed smartly, though not yet in the regimentals which Abigail and Fredricka found so becoming on Mr Randall, Mr Brown was unquestionably handsome. His russet greatcoat did nothing to disguise a svelte figure, and his black high crowned hat and silver-topped walking stick lent him a not unbecoming dandyish air. Short, wavy dark hair framed a pale face, and his eyes darted from person to person, settling finally on Will.

Instinctively, Will backed away a little. Even if he had not caught the man's unmistakable Alpha scent – a rather overpowering musk – he would have guessed Mr Brown's secondary gender from the predatory gleam in those hawk-like green eyes.

Yet in the next moment the newcomer blinked and the look was gone, replaced with mere friendly curiosity. Feeling that perhaps his imagination had been playing tricks on him, Will forced himself to relax and summon a friendly greeting for the village's newest addition.

But before Will could open his mouth to ask Mr Brown how he was finding the neighbourhood, the sound of horses drew his attention and his eyes widened at the sight of Hannibal and Miss Verger riding side-by-side down the street. Immediately, all thoughts of their new acquaintance flew out of his head and he was transported back to the humiliation of his final day at Muskrat Hall. Inevitably, Miss Verger caught sight of Alana, and equally inevitably she rode over to speak to her. As Hannibal also drew near, Will fought to no avail against the blush he could feel burning his cheeks, and was determining to look anywhere but at Hannibal when, too late, their eyes met. And held. Will's heart skipped at the unexpected softness in the rich amber of Hannibal's gaze, until the Alpha caught sight of Mr Brown and all traces of warmth were eradicated in an instant.

As Hannibal and Mr Brown faced one another, both changed colour: one looked white, the other red. Mr Brown touched his hat in greeting, a gesture which Hannibal barely deigned to reciprocate before turning his horse sharply and riding away. Miss Verger hastily took her leave and followed him, and the whole party continued talking together except for Will, who could only feign interest in the topic of a dinner for the officers the following evening at his aunt's house. It was impossible to imagine what could be the meaning of Hannibal's slighting of Mr Brown, yet he longed to know.

**

Mrs Graham's sister, Mrs Prurnell, was always glad to see her nephew and nieces; and Will was never more happy to see his gregarious aunt than on this day, when he was able to accomplish two tasks at once. Firstly, ridding himself of Mr Franklyn's irksome attentions by encouraging him to explain to Mrs Prurnell – at length – the history of his acquaintanceship with Lady Bedelia. And secondly, extracting a promise from his aunt to make Mr Prurnell call on Mr Brown the following day, with an invitation to dine at their home.

Still troubled by what he had seen pass between Hannibal and the regiment's newest lieutenant, Will related the incident to Alana as they walked home, but neither could explain it. And so it was with a growing sense of anticipation that Will walked into his aunt's house the following evening. Mr Brown was already present, talking with Mr Randall, Mr Prurnell and a couple of the other officers. All eyes were on the newcomer, and when he detached himself from the group and made his way over to seat himself by Will, the latter felt the weight of their speculation on himself as well.

'I was pleased to make the acquaintance of Miss Verger yesterday,' said Mr Brown, after they had exchanged general pleasantries. 'I believe that she and her brother have leased Muskrat Hall. Do you know how long they intend to remain there?'

'I do not,' shrugged Will, 'although I have no idea of their intending to leave in the near future. Why do you ask?'

'I know something of the family,' said Mr Brown with somewhat studied casualness. 'They are a restless lot.' He hesitated. 'How long has Mr Lecter been staying with them?'

Pulse quickening, Will endeavoured to keep his flustered feelings hidden. 'About a month; he has an estate of his own in Derbyshire, I believe.'

'Yes,' said Mr Brown, mouth twisting into a peculiar smile, 'Ravenstag House. It clears at least ten thousand per annum.' Leaning towards Will, he added softly, 'I could tell you much of that family, and of Mr Lecter, for we have been connected since infancy.'

Will's astonishment must have shown in his face, for Mr Brown hummed. 'You may well be surprised, Mr Graham, after witnessing the cold manner of our greeting yesterday.' Another hesitation. 'Are you – much acquainted with Mr Lecter?'

For an instant, Will recalled a soft brush of fingers and a picture changing hands; listening, captivated, to a description of sunset over water in a faraway city, told in a voice deep and rich; eyes meeting in tentative rapport and shared humour.

But then...

Sympathy had been replaced by coldness, warmth by repudiation. Insults traded and walls erected. And a blossoming hope of something – a thing so intangible, it did not even have a name – had withered and crumbled to dust.

Am I much acquainted with Hannibal Lecter?

'As much as ever I wish to be,' he said gruffly, reignited anger provoking him to indiscretion. 'He is not at all liked here. Everybody is disgusted with his pride.'

'Indeed? I believe that does not happen often,' drawled Mr Brown. 'The world is usually blinded by his consequence, and sees him only as he chooses to be seen.'

'And how do you see him, Mr Brown?' There was undoubtedly more that the officer wanted to say, and certainly more that Will wished to hear. With the others occupied in either dancing or cards, he abandoned all pretence at discretion in favour of learning more of the infuriating man who continued to infiltrate his thoughts with tiresome persistence.

'It would pain me to say,' said Mr Brown, manner grave. 'His behaviour to myself has been scandalous, but worse than that was his breaking of the promise he made to his father on his deathbed.'

Will paled. 'But – that is shocking.'

'Indeed.’ Mr Brown leaned closer. ‘The late Mr Lecter was the best of men, Mr Graham. He was my godfather and excessively attached to me. In his will – knowing of my intention to make the church my profession – he bequeathed me the living on his estate once it fell vacant.' Shaking his head, Mr Brown continued, 'He meant to provide for me, but when the time came, the living was given to another.'

'Given to another? How could that be?' Will stared in ever-increasing consternation. ‘If Mr Lecter had seen fit to give you the estate parish, I do not understand how his son could deny you that right – or why he would even choose to do so.’

Mr Brown pursed his lips. 'I believe that the younger Mr Lecter ever resented his father's attachment to me. And I have an unguarded temper – I may perhaps have spoken my opinions too freely in his presence. For whatever reason, he chose to disregard his father's last wishes as mere recommendation, for they were never set down on paper.'

‘I may perhaps have spoken my opinions too freely…’

How many times, thought Will dazedly, had he himself spoken bluntly to Hannibal and been cut in consequence? With a sharp pang, he wondered whether Hannibal's brief overture of friendship had been merely a ploy to draw him out; to test and probe his character in a fit of whimsy. The bored Alpha aristocrat, entertained momentarily by a shiny Omega toy.

Wind him up and watch him go.

'I hardly know what to say,' he murmured, the dull ache in his heart increasing every moment. 'I had not thought Mr Lecter as bad as this. How can Miss Verger be on such friendly terms with him?'

'I have never met her.'

'She is perfectly amiable and sweet-tempered.' Will stared broodingly at the floor. 'She cannot know what he is.'

'Oh, he knows how to please where it suits him,' muttered Mr Brown. 'His sister worships him.'

At this, Will looked up. 'Miss Lecter? What is she like?'

'Too much like her brother – very, very proud,' came the clipped response.

'He deserves to be publicly disgraced.'

Though he tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, Will felt the curiosity in Mr Brown's gaze.

'If he is, it shall not be by me. I honour his father's memory too greatly.'

'Your forbearance does you credit, Mr Brown.'

As they shared a smile, Mr Franklyn, who was seated nearby playing whist, caused a minor fracas by accidentally jarring the table and upsetting the other players' hands. His exclamations of regret momentarily drew the attention of everyone in the room, and after the fuss had quieted down, Mr Brown enquired how long Will's cousin would be staying with them.

'Another nine days, thirteen hours and I should think about twenty-five minutes,' replied Will wearily, consulting the clock on the mantle.

Mr Brown grinned. 'I have heard him mention tonight with some regularity a certain Lady Bedelia du Maurier.'

'Ah yes.' Will sighed, relaxing a little and propping his elbows on the backrest of the sofa. 'He speaks of little else.'

'Hm. You know of course that Lady Bedelia is the younger sister of Simonetta, Mr Lecter's late mother.'

Surprise jolted through him. 'I did not.'

'Oh yes. Her son, Francis, will inherit a very large fortune, and it is widely believed that he and his cousin will unite the two estates.' Mr Brown's mouth twisted again into that odd smile which seemed reserved for mentions of the Lecter wealth.

'Really? Poor Mr Verger,' muttered Will sourly. His sense of discomfort was increasing rapidly, though he could not pinpoint the cause. But at the evening's end, after exchanging warm farewells with his new friend, he went away with his head full of Mr Brown and of what he had told him.

***

Will recounted to Alana the next day the main points of his conversation with Mr Brown. Irritatingly, rather than dreaming of short curls and charm-filled green eyes, he had been plagued all night by visions of a supercilious amber stare and stern, sculpted lips.

'Perhaps both labour under a misapprehension about the other,' suggested Alana, eyes shining with distress. 'I cannot bear to believe that Mr Lecter would have behaved so disgracefully – or that Miss Verger could be so deceived in her friend.'

'I am sorry, Alana, but I can more easily believe that Miss Verger has been imposed on than that Mr Brown should have invented such a history,' declared Will stubbornly as they walked together in the garden. 'If it is not true, then let Mr Lecter contradict it.'

'It is difficult indeed,' sighed Alana. 'One does not know what to think.'

'I beg your pardon,' scoffed Will, scuffing the gravel with vicious force. 'One knows exactly what to think.'