✓ | Hushed Whispers ⋆ Will Herondale [2]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: PLOTTING

◤No shame on your side for using all your strength against a lady. Not even a single sign of sparing her. Congratulations, brother. Here's to your bravery and fairness, and of course - shown compassion toward your female opponent.◢

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: PLOTTING

CHARLOTTE Branwell brought a storm along when she entered the drawing room. It followed her like a cloud made of desperation and infuriation, threatening to grind upon the others.

"Aloysius Starkweather is the most stubborn, hypocritical, obstinate, degenerate-" Charlotte spoke all the words that stumbled upon her bothered mind as she slammed the paper down onto the wooden desk.

"Would you like a thesaurus?" Will inquired, calmly resting his back against the backrest of the armchair he was occupying. His thick, leather black boots were placed on the ottoman as the boy enjoyed the warmth the fireplace brought him. "You seem to be running out of words."

If Charlotte wasn't as annoyed with Aloysius' letter as she was in that particular moment, she would have responded to Will's unnecessary comment and put him back into his place, but Charlotte stayed silent instead.

Another sign that she is absolutely and utterly lost and infuriated, Marie kept the thoughts to herself as she observed the woman from her place. She had leaned against the wall near the fireplace, in front of Jem and Will, hoping to warm her frozen fingers.

"And is he really degenerate?" Jem commented from the other chair. "I mean, the old codger's almost ninety - surely past real deviancy."

"I don't know," Will added. "You'd be surprised at what some of the old fellows over at the Devil Tavern get up to."

"Nothing anyone you know might get up to would surprise us, Will," Jessamine mumbled from the chaise lounge. Her right hand was pressing a damp cloth against her forehead.

"Darling," said Henry, slowly approaching his wife. "Are you quite all right? You look a bit - splotchy."

Marie couldn't help but agree with the man. Charlotte's face was covered in pinkish circles - without a doubt caused by her rising anger.

"I think it's charming," Will said. "I've heard polka dots are the last word in fashion this season."

"Would you like a cool cloth?" Henry put his hand on Charlotte's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. "What can I do to help?"

"You could ride up to Yorkshire and chop that old goat's head off," Charlotte blurted out.

Marie blinked as she realized what the woman had suggested. "I think the Clave would be opposed to your idea, Char. They're not quite fond of beheadings and similar things, you know?"

"Oh!" Charlotte hid her face in her hands. "It's all my fault, isn't it? I don't know why I thought I could win him over. The man's a nightmare."

"What did he say exactly?" The brunette Shadowhunter asked. "In the letter, I mean."

"He refuses to see me, or Henry," Charlotte admitted. "He says he'll never forgive my family for what my father did. My father... He was a difficult man. Absolutely faithful to the letter of the Law, and the Starkweathers have always interpreted the Law more loosely. My father thought they lived wild up there in the north, like savages, and he wasn't shy about saying so. I don't know what else he did, but old Aloysius seems personally insulted still. Not to mention that he also said if I really cared what he thought about anything, I would have invited him to the last Council meeting. As if I'm in charge of that sort of thing!"