Work Text:
When Clownpierce arrived home the night after the banquet was when he received the news. Ivory had been physically assaulted by the detective from Misty's murder case.
The head servant sat at his desk, trying to suppress the urge to throw the nearest object next to him into the wall. The staff of the Hemlocke estate were his responsibility. For this to happen to one of the maids like this wasn't just an attack, it was an insult. To him, to the estate, and to that poor girl.
Ross knocked and opened the door to his office. Div was behind him. "Hello! you wished to see us?"
"Come here."
The two men listened to the order, standing in front of Clowpierce behind the desk.
"Now, here's what you two are going to do…" he leaned forward. "You two are going to tell me exactly what you did on the day that Ivory was taken by the detective. You're going to tell me where you were, what chores you did, and what you saw. Understand?"
Ross silently gulped. Div replied with a yes.
"Alright," Clowpierce gave the men some space so they could tell their stories. "Who wants to go first?"
Div went first, talking about his tasks, then Ross. Every minute that went by of their stories was another minute where Clownpierce tried to hide the fist he was clenching while he sat in his chair. "Did any of you see Ivory while you were doing all of these tasks?" He asked.
"Nope," replied Div.
"Ross?"
Ross replied with a nope, but there was a hesitancy in his voice. "Are you sure?" Clownpierce leaned forwards again.
"Yes…Yes, i didn't see her," Ross bowed his head, frightened by his boss.
Clownpierce sighed and sat back in his chair again. Interrogating these men wouldn't fix Ivory's injuries. At least now he could make some plans so this attack wouldn't happen again. "Okay…you two are dismissed."
The two men got up and quickly exited the room. Clownpierce sat, staring at the door before getting up and going to the servants kitchen.
— — —
Clownpierce walked into the infirmary area carrying a tray of tea and small cookies. He reached the door of Ivory’s room, knocking on its wood. “Ivory? May I come in?”
“Yes.”
Opening the door he saw the woman sitting on the side of the bed in work clothes. “I thought you were on bed rest?” He asked. “I was,” she replied. “But I thought I could work today, but Sir Pyroscythe brought me back here.”
“That’s good,” he placed the tray down next to a nearby table. “You need the rest.”
“I feel fine,” Ivory said. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
That made clown’s fists clench again, not at her but rather for her. Who would dare hurt Ivory worse than this? On top of that, he could tell that she clearly was not fine the way she had a hand placed on her chest like she found it troubling to breathe. “Here let me pour you some tea.”
“Thank you,” she said as Clown poured the liquid from a kettle and gave her one of the cups. He took another cup from the tray and poured again. “I hope you don’t mind if I help myself as well,” he said and placed down the kettle. Ivory replied with a shake of her head.
Clownpierce sat in a nearby chair the way that a grandfather would, slowly and with a slight groan at the task. He silently drank the tea, hiding a smile as Ivory made a face from drinking her’s. Guess she wasn’t the type that liked tea all that much. “There’s cream and sugar on the tray if you want. I can add that in for you too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hmm,” he paused his tea drinking. “What for?”
“For…getting in the detective’s car,” for their entire meeting, Ivory was looking at the floor, but this time, she looked up at him as she said this. “I wasn’t thinking when I did it. If I didn’t get in the car, I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t have to be taking care of me like this…”
Clownpierce’s fist clenched another time, more tighter now. Ivory didn’t know that the detective would beat her, she couldn’t have known.
Earlier this morning, he found a newspaper on Lord Zombie’s desk, the Emberton Wire. Clownpierce has read a few issues and found them to be nothing but hogwash (although he would never tell Zombie that). Seeing the paper, he found some mention of a detective on paid leave. He new exactly who that would be. Clown felt a wretched anger reading those words. How dare that man leave. How dare he get paid for it. Some animalistic part of him wanted to go and find that detective wherever he was and beat him to a bloody pulp.
But Clownpierce unclenched his fist. He wasn’t an animal. He was a gentleman, and gentleman don’t give in to animalistic urges. Gentleman don’t go and do foolish things.
Gentleman don’t go and beat people until they were half dead. Especially if said people were simple women who had no means of defending themselves.
“It’s not your fault Ivory,” he continued to drink from his tea again. “Yes, you shouldn’t have gone in that car, and you should have told someone about it first. But it’s the detective’s fault for betraying your trust. You’re not the reason you’re in this infirmary, he is.”
Ivory didn’t respond, but Clownpierce saw her shoulders relax just a bit, like she needed to hear those words today. Clownpierce was glad he was able to help release some of that tension. He finished his tea and got up, walking towards the door.
“If you need anything…” he placed his hand on the doorknob. “I’m here. We all are,” he opened the door, closing it again as he walked out.
“Oh and please have the cookies on the tray as well. It'll help with the taste of the tea.”