Work Text:
Ding Dong
Frederick opened the door to reveal a woman with fiery red hair frizzed with curls. She had a much too chipper smile plastered on as she asked, “Hi! Is this the Lecter residence?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the doctor?”
“No. Butler.”
“Oops, my bad. See, I’m here for the governess position. Or tutor. Because who really needs a governess these days, right?”
Just blinking from Frederick, then a very slow response. “Your name, ma’am?”
“Oh god, I’m sorry. Freddie Lounds. Yours?” Before he could answer, suddenly a very dignified voice sounded from the top of the staircase.
“Who’s at the door, Frederick?”
“Potential governess for the mistress, Madame.”
“Excellent. Bring her in.”
He held the door open wider, and Freddie Lounds took her first steps into the mansion’s living room. She could feel the butler’s eyes boring into her.
“May I take your coat?”
“Oh, thanks.” She shrugged off the leopard print cardigan and turned her attention to the blonde woman slowly descending from the upper level, her long maroon dress trailing behind her, glass of red wine in hand. When she reached the bottom, she stared at her with an icy, yet inviting, stare.
“Have a seat, Miss Lounds,” she said coolly, sitting down on the elegant couch. Freddie took a seat on the oak chair.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Um, no thanks. Bit early, don’t you think?”
“Never too early, never too late,” the woman said as she sipped her glass. “Frederick, bring out the tea set, if you please.”
“Yes, Madame,” said the butler with a nod and a last look at Freddie. She smiled at him and he left abruptly.
“Isn’t he a ladykiller?” she joked.
“Acquitted. Now, your credentials,” the woman said casually. Freddie opened her briefcase and handed her the papers. After she’d read through them, her curiosity got the better of her.
“Have met before?”
“I believe so.”
“And are you Abigail’s mother?”
“No, aunt. Her fathers allow me to live here.”
“Fathers? Plural?”
“My brother is married to Dr. Lecter.”
“Oh! I’m sor--Wait a minute. You’re not Bedel-“ As if on cue, the couple in question entered the room, arm-in-arm. All looks of affection faded the second Will saw Freddie.
“Will. It is so nice to see you again,” she said with thinly-veiled derision, not missing their grip on each other tighten, or did she miss the pained look on her old classmate’s face.
“I wish I could say the same, Fredericka,” he said, more to himself than to her. Then, in a soothing tone, “Darling, this is Fredericka Lounds. We were in school together once.”
“A pleasure,” Hannibal said in a voice tinged with venom. “And what, precisely, is she doing here?”
She suppressed a shiver. “I, uh, I’m applying for the governess position.”
The woman (it must be Bedelia) passed Freddie’s credentials over to Hannibal. Thus followed five minutes of total silence as they read them over together.
“Your credentials are impressive enough. A journalist?” Hannibal asked. Jesus, this guy’s voice could talk you into anything.
“Not at the moment.”
“What kind of journalist are you?” asked a small voice that made Freddie jump right out of her chair. A tiny girl with brown eyes and a very serious expression was staring at her. Freddie turned to her fathers for help, but they simply waited for her response. So she turned back and said slowly, “I’ve done all kinds of journalism, Abigail.”
“Crime scenes? Like Papa used to go to?”
“Yes.” This kid is giving me the third degree.
“Can I see the pictures?”
“Well…if your father allows it, I suppose it’s all right.”
“Would you play Salem Witch Trials with me?”
“…Sure, if that’s what you want to do.”
Abigail thought for a moment, and then walked over to her fathers.
“I like her, Papa,” she declared. “She doesn’t talk to me like the last one did. Can we let her try, pretty please?”
Will sighed, because neither him nor Hannibal could ever really deny her anything. “I suppose, dear heart.” Then he addressed Freddie: “Your duties consist of assisting in Abigail’s studies, chauffeuring her, and playing with her if she likes. In return, you shall have your own room, even though it is on the sunny side of the house. Also, usage of any of the Cadillacs comes with your stay. Are you still a vegetarian?”
She could have sworn the entire group shuddered at that word. “Um, yes?”
Hannibal stepped in, handing her the contract. “Frederick can make extras of his own meals for her. No trouble at all. Sign on the dotted line, please.”
Freddie signed without too much hesitation and passed it back, feeling a bit like she had just sold her soul. “Wonderful. You start now.” Before she could open her mouth to protest, Frederick came back in with the tea set.
“Ah, Frederick, just in time," Hannibal said. "Would you show Miss Lounds to her room in the west wing? She’s just been hired to be Abigail’s new governess.”
“Yes sir,” he said slowly, unable to look her in the eye.
“I’ll help!” Abigail said, jumping up to rush over and grab Freddie’s arm. “Frederick, you can carry her bag up. I’ll show her the room and my dolls. Come on!”
With a frankly shocking amount of strength for a child, she dragged Freddie up the stairs, chattering away the entire time. Hannibal looked as Will’s still sullen face and gently caressed the collar of his black shirt.
“Oh, don’t torture yourself, Will. That’s my job, darling,” he said sweetly, nipping at his pulse point. The corners of a smile pulled at Will’s mouth.
“I know, darling. And Abigail is already fond of her, a step above the other five," he said in a resigned tone. "But the second she decides to give her up, I’ll deal with that woman myself. After all, you got the gas inspector.”
Hannibal smiled and kissed his husband’s forehead.
Bedelia rolled her eyes as she sipped the wine. “Get a room, Will, brother dear.”