Subj: Quentin Backstory -- 11
Date: 5/16/01 12:29:48 AM Central Daylight Time
From: DSRules

For one all-too-brief moment, Daphne allowed herself to believe that Quentin's arms around her were an expression of his love for her. A love that he'd proclaimed twice - first on a rainy afternoon in her house in Boston, the second time as they kissed at the base of Widows' Hill, the surf spraying them as it battered against the rocks. And he seemed to remember those days, too, as he set her down softly and looked at her, an expression of something like longing in his eyes.

But after he left the room, she had to face reality -- the reality that Quentin wanted no more to do with her. He'd moved on and, by all accounts, was quite the playboy these days. She had overheard the maids talking about his nights carousing -- patronizing prostitutes and consuming alcohol in quantities that would easily incapacitate some men.

She would just have to face that whatever tender, gentle emotions she'd seen in him once were long gone.

* * *

Laura felt her stomach twist as Quentin carried Daphne into the dining room, placing her gently on her chair at the end of the table.

And the way they looked at each other turned that twisting into a knot.

"I'll go into town and hire someone trustworthy to carry you, Grandmother." Quentin said, and Laura expected him to do something. Touch her. Kiss her. She was in agony, anticipating what would come next.

Then Quentin did what she least expected. He turned and walked from the room.

Laura watched him go, hope welling up in her heart. {Maybe it's not all for nothing. Maybe they really won't reunite.}

All throughout breakfast, Laura was consumed with curiosity about the status of Daphne and Quentin's relationship. She didn't know why it was so important to her, except that, somehow, on some level she felt connected to him.

Of course, she knew that Quentin was her grandson, not Daphne's. She'd had a premonition that Tad Collins would die at a young age. So in 1840, she sought him out in Boston and seduced him, conceiving Geoffrey Collins, Quentin's father. Strangely, her premonition turned out to be false. It was almost as if someone had changed the course of history. Though she'd never in all of her centuries of life seen anyone successfully change the course of history.

However, their blood relationship didn't bother her in the slightest. She lost count of the times she'd taken her own son into the flames with her, in hopes that he'd survive and prove to be the one that the priest of Serapis had foretold. David Stockbridge, David Radcliffe - there were so many, and all of them wrongly killed in her vain search for a companion.

When she found out that Daniel had lived to be an old man, she was grateful that she hadn't been able to return in 1795 to claim him. His blood, at least, wasn't on her hands.

But maybe, she looked over at Edward, just maybe Jamison would be the one. She only had another five years to wait until she could take Jamison into the flames with her.

* * *

"Evan! I'm so glad you're here!" Quentin said as he sat down across the table from his friend.

Evan's eyes widened with shock when he took in Quentin's state of dishabille. "*You* must have had quite a night." He chuckled. "You aren't even wearing your cravat."

"I need to hire someone."

Evan gave his friend and amused look, then glanced over his left shoulder. "Well, then, this might be your lucky day."

Quentin turned in the direction that Evan was indicating and found himself face-to-face with Sadie, one of the prostitutes that he favored.

Sadie sauntered up to their table. "We missed you last night, Dearie." She perched on Quentin's knee.

Quentin tensed up immediately. Once he was close enough, he realized that she wasn't as pretty as he'd always thought. Not that she was unattractive - far from it. But she was a little more overblown and perfumey than he recalled.

He forced himself to relax and smile at her warmly. "Well, Sadie. That's because I've had family obligations. And I don't know when I'll be back. So why don't you run along. I'll be sure to look you up when I'm available again."

Sadie pouted in her most beguiling fashion, and when he didn't relent, she walked away, hips swaying as she went.

"You weren't here last night?" Evan asked, surprised. "Then where were you?"

"Just like I told Sadie. Family business." Quentin didn't want to tell Evan just how tangled up and confused Daphne had him, but he needed to discuss her anyhow, so he said in his most normal tone. "My grandmother's moved into Collinwood."

"Your grandmother Collins?" Evan's eyes widened. "I remember her. You used to go over to her house a lot when we were in college together. A very attractive woman, for her age, or for any age, truthfully."

"That's her." Quentin smiled as affably as he could manage.

"So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Actually, I'm here to talk to you about my grandmother."