H C Turk, page 29
"Lady Rathel, your name is known to us as well, and well regarded. We ask not of you, but of this woman, that she is of your house as she asserts. Learning now that this be true, we return her, and suggest you retain die servant inside until more comes of the problem mentioned "
"And what is this crime of which you speak?" Rathel inquired.
"A man was killed in a demonic manner not to be described to a lady," was the official response.
Rathel then pulled her servant away as though a toy misused by a greedy friend, patting Elsie's back and telling the poor miss to return to her room and rest. Theodosia accompanied Elsie from the foyer. Unkindly I concealed myself from Elsie's sight, for although I would not refuse her my sympathy, this demonic situation must first be heard by the demon.
Again Rathel confronted the constables, speaking with less passion, now more professionally.
"Through Magistrate Naylor you might know that my life is one of confronting witches. Therefore, you shall convey to me details appropriate for my expertise."
After sharing a look, the constables acquiesced.
"A man Percival Bitford was killed most sexually, in that his male member was torn off his body and too much of his blood lost for him to live further."
"Perhaps this man had enemies," Lady Rathel returned. "Humans are also channels for Satan's evil."
"Sir Jacob is thinking witches."
Rathel looked to the constables, but had no denial. When she spoke again, her words were final.
"The magistrate knows my home. I know witches and servants. I wish you a good day," she concluded, and closed the door, turning to walk away.
She sought Miss Elsie to soothe her, telling the servant not to broach this story to Alba, for the girl's weak condition would not bear the distress. Elsie, of course, would tell no one, ever, of being arrested for wickedness, tell no other servant and never Miss Alba, dear Miss Alba.
Rathel did not come to me. Was she so expert as to know I would have no comprehension of my own witch's act? Of course, she would not mention the event to me, lest I be influenced to avoid performing the same activity with Eric, exacdy as Rathel had intended and asserted in verity from the first. But men were all sinners, no more, and killing them would send their souls to God. Besides, if the specified person were ended, would I not thereafter be conveyed to a land where no sinners existed to kill? What care had I for these folk with more of Satan's evil than any witch?
I had never seen Elsie so frightened. Had she been present with her evil lass, her absolutely evil charge, perhaps she would have noted our new similarity; for my own fear was unparalleled, even greater than when Mother was taken to her burning, or when I awaited death in Jonsway. Those horrors had come from without, but this latest was so inherent to me that I felt responsible for all those previous deaths, not merely Percival's. So foul was my core that surely it permeated my past, an evil implemented in the forgotten real, and obscurely revealed in dreams.
Elsie would have discerned no great difference with her sight, though surely that hot blood burning my head made the white witch somewhat pink, rare meat she was, unique in her corruption. Standing by the window, I thought of Elsie's words, of my being so ill I might leap. And I had the thought, but knew that Satan or Rathel would catch me. Then I thought of Percival and was relieved that no more dealings could I have with him or his company. I thought of my pain and of his, and knew I had felt both during the event, the dying, and now felt them again: not in my crotch, but in my heart and my head and my spirit, and this was Satan's glory. I felt pain and impossibility, for I could not have killed that man. I could not have killed any person, not with my body-the idea was absurd. But the intensity of that pain now seemed fit for death, and how dead the driver seemed in retrospect. How deadly the Rathel was to know this all along and use my trait as a weapon, use me as a weapon: a person more vile than even Satan could imagine. A person so wicked as to have killed a man by plucking away his most prideful part and letting him bleed for it. And I felt it. I felt myself locked onto that male and felt our pain and felt his piece pulled loose and that piece was my brain. I felt Percival's blood oozing away and it was my blood, for I felt my heart being pulled from my body. I felt the pain of my killing, and as well as God Himself I knew I deserved it, deserved the agony again and felt it so fully that thereafter nothing in my life existed but that horror returned. But I did not suffer enough, for I continued living; whereas that poor, average sinner had not. I felt abject moral misery so completely that I was nothing but that concept, an idea of evil so pure that only a devil could bear it. But I was only a girl, one hating herself enough to die, but Satan only let me faint.
That day I remained ill, but from no distressed stomach. Each moment awake or partially aware I prayed God for understanding, believing deeply that within His wisdom some reason existed for the incredible evil in me, a divine plan that let me love both Him and humans, yet kill the latter. But I received peace only upon accepting Lord God instead of seeking from Him the aid of explanation. Only then did I approach divinity, understanding that a design only God could devise He alone could comprehend; and this was satisfaction enough. Then, exhausted with my religion, I managed to sleep through the uncomfortable afternoon. When I awoke, I found myself no less evil, but no less a part of God's enduring plans.
Evening had come. I arose to stand by that desperate window, aware that outside lay my future that soon I would need to follow again. Beginning my preparation, I applied effort to tidy my apparel as though the killer were a lady; for in this world of God above and Satan everywhere, a lady she best be. I even brushed my hair, then quit my chamber to show God I yet accepted myself as part of His world, not Satan's. Unfortunately, Satan seemed to be part of me, for my bottom was evil, the musculature there so sore as to affect my walking, for I limped as though elderly. Was this, then, the cause of old sinners walking poorly: a life of sex coupling? Sex killing?
Though the evening was not late, Rathel and her servants had retired, all but Elsie, who met me downstairs in her dressing robe as though waiting. Unimpassioned but pleasant was our meeting, wherein we mutually determined that each of our conditions had improved; and, yes, perhaps we were hungry. Entering the kitchen, Elsie was thoughtful enough to eat only an apple instead of rendering me ill with meat. For Elsie's benefit, pomegranate instead of onion was my meal.
As Elsie and I departed the kitchen, the servant proceeded to her room. As though an insect in the evening, I was drawn to the light of her doorway. Following the miss, I stood outside as she entered. Never had I been within nor viewed this chamber. Elsie moved to her bed and sat. I had never seen her settled upon a surface all her own, and she was mildly prideful in having a place, any place, though this room was the size of my armoire, with a tiny bed and tiny chair, and two shelves and all of Elsie's things: her crafts and comb and Bible, a clean and neat apron the next day she would be rubbing with her fingertips. One oil lamp whose light filled the small space, and I saw myself there. Upon a round table lay a crocheted doily with a pamphlet of Jesus, a dried flower from our garden, and a ball of black hair tied with a ribbon. Elsie's hair was brown.
I looked toward my friend. Instantly I would have exchanged chambers with her, for clearly we were misplaced. Elsie would have loved the grand expanse of my room, and I would have been more comfortable in a modest space. I looked only at Elsie, and cursed her properly.
"Sleep perfectly, miss, and rest as you deserve," I said.
She was embarrassed. I departed, the servant and I wishing one another a good evening. Only Elsie's, however, would soon end. Midnight for the witch was a literal center.
By the window that connected me to the sinners' world, I awaited a sister's smell, but none came. Perhaps the witch was present a wind away, her odor masked by a breeze. Believing that Eric would not be so foolish as to come on a day whose bright hours had seen officers collecting sinister women outside my door, I had concern only for my sister whom I prayed to appear one additional night, bringing me new opportunity. I then departed through that plane incapable of separating me from the wickedness without, for did not the devil have a daughter within?
Down the wall with no slippage. Across the street through a minor snow and to the site where my sister again would be found, please. The same aged sinner of my previous journey was so gracious as to have returned, a consistency I prayed for in Lucinda. Again he scurried away, frightened that I might be danger. How wise was this man. The person of my true concern, however, was not present. For hours I walked the street hoping to gain Lucinda's odor, but no person was sensed, sinner or sister. Near dawn, after I had stopped myself from falling as though waking from a flying dream, I returned to the Rathel's. Though exhausted, I traversed the wall unharmed, all the while wondering how to find Lucinda again, crawling into my chamber to find a sinner asleep on my floor.
As I stepped past him to the door, Eric was startled from his sleep as though on the street half-conscious looking for his kin. He sat upright to watch me lock the door to exclude Elsie if she were to awaken before the sun to look in on me. What a joy the Rathel would receive from finding Eric here. But what a disaster for Elsie's heart.
"Surprised I am, miss, at your being out this hour," Eric quietly stated, standing as I turned from the door.
"I explain before you ask, sir," I told him. "Outside I was to meet a poor friend of my true family to describe the path whereby she might exit London. These things are done at night for the same cause as yours, for my friend would suffer greatly if discovered by superiors."
I then sat on a chair, bending to remove my shoes, having a true need to sleep and beginning my preparation despite the present guest. Before the first dead cowskin was loosened, however, I came aware of the tart move I was making, even God's greatest lady no more than a common wench to tempt a man by revealing her lower extremes. At once I ceased, but surely Eric had seen an ankle. As I sedately dropped my hem to the floor, did I not smell from my visitor an odor usually present when men were about to die by me?
Eric turned from the semi-lady, distracted or attempting to appear so.
"Did you succeed in aiding your friend exit our city?" he asked.
"My friend was not present," I replied. "In that she is disheveled and unhandsome, I fear the constables have taken her for a witch, arresting her as they did our Miss Elsie."
Surprised, Eric quickly turned to me despite the potentials of stockings revealed.
"Surely the latter is not yet detained."
"Surely not, in that Rathel was a fury to take her servant from the men, officials or not."
"But if your friend is detained, can you not as Lady Amanda's daughter vouch for her bonafides?"
"Without the complexities of deep exegesis, let me inform you, sir, that entities in this world exist more convincing to constables than I."
After staring toward me a moment, Eric stepped to the window, looking out as I had earlier and seeing the same, viewing nothing but his thoughts.
"Might I provide some aid to help with your friend's departure?"
"Accept my gratitude, sir, but I find no use in your involvement."
Looking through that window, the young man seemed full distracted.
"I leave, then, miss," he sighed. "In fact, I have come for the purpose of describing my departure, for not only your sill but London sees me exit."
"Interpret your riddle, sir, in that quitting London has become a horror for me."
"The purpose, ostensibly, is to convey me to education, when in fact the object is to remove me from you."
"Who so takes thee, master?"
"My father and the wife, who've made payment for exclusive education in Italy. This was expected and gratefully appreciated before, but no longer. Not when it comes a year early. The true goal is not to increase my intellection, however, but to decrease my exposure to you. The parents, though unaware of these meetings, yet read my heart as though Jesus my soul."
I believed his speaking, though it seemed unreal, a dream. Eric was being forced to leave London while I remained a prisoner? Shaking my head as though to clear the clogging injustice, I asked of his travel.
"You depart for the Continent? How far removed, sir, and for what duration?"
"A brief journey over water, then days on land, the stay to last for years. Truly my parents hope for me to find and wed a peer newly met in Europe, but I am heretofore betrothed. You might know of this."
"I do," was all I needed to say, for Eric had not ended his speaking.
"What your feelings thereof might be, I know not, shan't ask, and in a way I find irrelevant. For in fact, I am dispassionately convinced that after years when I return to London, I will come to you."
He then moved through the window and down, not having looked toward me again.
Til be wedding no other," I sighed, and nearly laughed. Then that faint smile to have come over me was lost, my ironical feeling exchanged for melancholy. And I was confused because I knew not whether this dejection came from my failure to remain emotionally apart from sinners, or merely because I would be without Eric.
About me bubbled fumes effervescent in the air, animal fat and blood turned to acidic vapor that etched my sensibilities. I continued with my chore, sitting on a simple stool on the coarse kitchen floor, the falling, green husks of the corn unnatural to this fumy atmosphere. With my back to the stove across the room, I wondered if Delilah used excessive heat in her cooking as punition for my being in her kitchen, the girl who puked at excellent pork when these servants were pleased to get bones for soup. Though interested only in planning Lucinda's exit of London, the husking an exercise to relax me, I found myself again in a conflict with English society. Instead of contemplating my true family of witches, unavoidably I was attempting to measure these sinners.
Then came the shouting.
"Ah! you're burning the beef, ignorant woman!"
I turned to see Theodosia and Delilah congregate before the unattended stove. One woman with a thick cloth removed the large skillet from the heat, setting it aside as the other peered closely at its contents with eyes stinging worse than mine.
"It is most black on the bottom and that which is not is surely overcooked," Theodosia reported. "And you know how much the mistress detests unrare meat."
"Perhaps we can dice it into some concoction and thus save the stuff," Delilah submitted, her cohort responding with derision.
"Best worry, woman, about saving your own hide and not this blackened beast's which you have ruint."
Delilah's reply was a glimpse more of guilt than glaring. Then up from the wet ashes she looked and to the kitchen door, for there was the final servant, one recently polishing metal and therefore without my accompaniment.
"Aye, and you'll not be worrying about the upcoming meal, in that the mistress is not attending. Off she is with constables to be aiding the magistrate."
"Gone the night she is?" Delilah asked. "Out of London? We've not seen that in a time."
"And you're not seeing it again this day," Elsie replied. "Likely she's returning before evening, was her goal, time enough to be preparing a proper meal for our weary mistress."
"Ah, the relief God grants well-meaning folk," Delilah sighed, and moved to dump the burnt mess outside where cyclical dogs eating house to house might find it.
Elsie departed, and I followed her involving news. Noticing my rapid standing, the remaining sinners wondered of my rush.
"And you are complete, Miss Alba, with your chore?" Delilah asked as I gathered the stripped corn.
"Done, miss, and on to another."
"You need not be doing these things, Miss Alba," Theodosia added as I scooped the bright green remains into the mulching box. "The mistress might not relish her young lady peeling vegetables."
My disturbing the organic mass brought forth fresh odors of old food, old plant remains, a smell enough for me to notice above the reduced fat steaming the room.
"I trust I am not improper in aiding the preparation of food that I also eat," I stated with a smile, wiping my hands as I stood paces from these servants, a proper space for women other than Elsie.
"You're a helpful lass, though, and thank you, miss," Delilah added.
Another smile and no further speaking as I left. Solely concerning me was that Rathel might again be the determiner of a witch's life. As though I might learn something from Rathel's last position, I ran to the entrance foyer, but sensed nothing. I therefore waited, an enterprise not always satisfying even to people as long lived as mine.
I lingered near that temporary hole. Not within sight of Elsie was I when she heard the coach halt before the household to divest itself of our mistress. After Rathel entered and spoke briefly with Elsie about weariness, the sinners separated, the witch stepping out from behind a curtain to grasp the lady's hand and smell it.
Startled Rathel attempted to snatch her fingers away, but long enough and near enough I held her to gain the smell I sought.
"Clove is not strong enough a scent to conceal a fragrance so personally known, lady sinner," I declared.
"Alba, if you have lost your mind, I shall confine you to a home for the mad," Rathel retorted while retrieving her hand.
"Not with an ignorant sinner of your huge village do you speak, Rathel. Wise enough I am to have surmised your task with the magistrate to be identifying witches. And on you proof is found, for the odor is lodged deep in the crevice beneath your nails, neither to be soon washed away nor hidden with additional scents. Not hidden from me."
"Partake of brevity in your wisdom, Alba, and describe the ultimate goal of your speaking."
"You have been with witch Lucinda-I know this."
"How is it you know a witch never near your home island?" Rathel replied after an unsubtle pause.
"I know her from your home, former missus. Inadvertently she found me here while seeking you and your typically sick business."
"The home of a woman not known to her, else my examining her would not have been required. Does your wisdom not tell you this?"
