H C Turk, page 47
"I would first ask what tale the Rathel has given you, for thus I know what to lie of."
"Depicted was a girl whose parents were lost and whose person was stolen by females later deduced demonic, said girl thus removed from them by English law. Later, Lady Amanda accepted same girl into London for a superior life. How agreeable are you with this story, Alba?"
"The Rathel lies enough to make me puke," I answered with that cold severity mentioned.
"Jesus calm your soul, Alba. I've not heard such crudities from baseborn beggars."
"Less crude in their mouths they might be, though I doubt they compare in the areas of wit, charm, and remaining chest. Certainly in seeking money alone, they have more integrity than the devious, dishonest Rathel."
"How then, miss, would you modify her tale?"
"I would begin with the parents. And bear down upon your tender spirit and watery eyes, Eric, for comes my next fact to damage your heart. The utter truth is that I know not my father-nor did my mother, for I sprang from a rape, of which God and Satan are equally cognizant. Are the nuptials therefore dismissed?"
Eric's response was to accept a fact to brutalize the average English fiance, looking down to shake his head in a motion virtually unseen, though understood. When he replied, his speaking seemed objective, lacking both severity and coldness.
"Despite its personal import, you provide an addition to Lady Rathel's story, not a refuting as I see it."
"Then see this next addition as emotion, for it deals with my mother. And, sir, if ever I come to love you half as much as I yet love my mother, you will have more emotion from me than you can imagine. In fact, my mother I well knew into my young adulthood until we were separated by mad English officials who condemned her as a witch and had her burned. Sir, yes, beheaded and burned as though the most wicked murderer instead of a thoughtful mother, killed dead along with our friends on Man's Isle. And the person to convince the authorities of this demonology was Amanda Rathel. The person who allowed my mother to be butchered and burned was the woman from whom you seek my hand. Only after destroying my family did the heinous Rathel conduct me to London. And if you do not believe in demons, sir, then you are a fool, for no demon ever existed more evil of spirit than Rathel. Now, sir, go ye home for your best weeping ever. Look first at your mother, however, and imagine her beneath the executioner's axe, imagine her in ashes. Think of your mother and her love, and as you love your mother living, therefore weep for mine."
No courting or communication occurred the following day. My only thoughts of the previous evening's damp discussion were of humor. What would come of the Rathel's plans if Eric rejected me for promising him my crotch but not my heart? This jest remained until night delivered a pair of eyes and one nose to my sill.
"I come for the wife."
"Wrong sill, intrusive face. Lovers alone reside here."
"Then the daughter boasting of mother's love. In the street do we meet?"
"If you rhyme no other time."
After the eyes disappeared, down the wall I crawled, again cursed with verse.
Quietly we walked in the street's center, avoiding all words as though in a quiet contest, a challenge I abandoned by calling out with voice enough to startle Eric.
"Any constables please note that our event is but marital difficulties discussed by decent folk."
Then from a side street came that voice of the previous night.
"And well, but speak lightly, in that untroubled persons be asleep."
After Eric and I laughed lightly as instructed, I confronted the male with a history I desired to conclude in order to proceed with the future.
"Sir, I proffered not the total truth of my emotion when implying I had scant love for you. What I did say remains true in that your companionship is more desirable than that of any other man alive, but as well I have a genuine fondness for you."
"This I wish to hear, Alba," Eric returned with a serious sort of enthusiasm. "I would hear this and desire to believe it more than life itself, it sometimes seems, certain times at night when I can-"
"No more interruptions for loose emoting," I chastised, "for my idea is not yet expressed. Because I have appreciation for your character and some fondness thereof, I wish no harm to reach you, not before we are wed nor thereafter. Thus, you must know of the Rathel's design with our lives so that we may avoid it and formulate our own."
"Describe this design, then, Alba, but provide it as observation; for despite all your graveness, you remain a person of extreme emotion."
I then stepped before Eric and turned so that he could see nothing but my face.
"The truth of Rathel is that your parents are correct, and you are a fool."
"A fool I am now because I know not your meaning."
"You remain unaware, sir, for you've not the preparation to believe, but this I will establish. To know the cruel truths I have for you that will pain you soon and save you later, you must come to me with a new ability to accept. This you shall gain elsewhere, from a trustworthy person you will not disbelieve."
"How am I to learn, and from whom?"
"From my pet."
"The spider?"
"Miss Elsie. The spider was ravaged by Rathel, as she has ravaged all my loved ones. As she would ravage you. But before being sent along for a lesson of preparedness, you must promise me a thing."
"The promise is then made," Eric returned. "Now may you say in advance the suffering to be caused by that vow?"
"None worse than you've received on this street, but perhaps no better."
"Perhaps I should then rescind my vow, for I've not been well treated by these nights."
"No, you shall not rescind the vow, which is to speak with Miss Elsie and insist that she tell you dispassionately of the Rathel's response toward me upon learning of your departing for distant schooling. Question her thusly tomorrow when the mistress is not about. Come to my window that night, and in further vow, bring no tears. I have your total promise, then?"
"You do, miss, and in truth you have my fear. If more tears are expected of me, then Miss Elsie's speaking I would avoid."
"You would, sir, but shall not, for you have vowed to hear. The purpose in this lesson is to foment your belief in the Rathel's greater truth that Miss Elsie cannot describe. But this present lady can, and shall tomorrow evening. Bring with you then some strength, and all the objectivity you can gather; for no story told by Elsie will be more true or more damaging than that you shall receive from me."
The day of learning I remained in my chamber to avoid interfering with Eric's visit. Trust him I did to fulfill his vow, though I caught no sight nor scent of him. And though Elsie was too quiet through the remaining day, not until evening did she reveal her distress.
"Dear Alba-dear God-and why were you having the boy demand such a story? There was no relenting in him, and each of us told all. And I'm never seeing a young man with more torment, no matter how much he was holding it in. Alba, girl, I'm not knowing your purpose in bringing forth such pain and giving it to your future husband."
"I will not conceal so significant a story from Eric exactly because he is my future husband," I truthMly explained. "Regarding the event you depicted to him, either the Rathel or I was evil, and I will have none believing it me. Trust me, miss, that in having this man know me fully, the two of us will be safer."
"And you think he's to be knowing you so completely, girl? Even husbands and wives can be decently keeping secrets of themselves. We're talking of marriage, Alba, not God's own judgment. And, dear God, I'm fearing you'll next be telling him that story of being a witch-and how that would be ruining poor Eric and the wedding."
"Why worry of that tale, miss, for did it not improve our friendship? But save yourself harm in your heart by trusting the true friend that I am, and believe that in this instance I am cautious to do what is proper. You are well convinced of my morality's depth, are you not, miss?"
"Aye, and I'm ever praying you hold it, Alba."
"Then understand I jeopardize my Godly heart in no manner, but seek that Eric might understand my true decency. Go then, miss, and worry as little as possible, no more than you must. And when last you pray this evening, ask God not that I achieve the best tonight, but only what I deserve."
"I come with no speaking," the eyes stated hours later. "I come to hear."
Neither had I words, only a gesture, a throwing motion as though Eric should fling himself to the street. There I flew to join him, down the vertical hill of this social wilderness. No fog this evening, but a drizzling rain as though a gift from God for my refreshment. And the air seemed cleansed, the city's building crumbs washed elsewhere, perhaps to the wilds where no witches lived. Of course, all these folk were in London or in Hell.
"I could not call you by an identity," Eric began, "for I know not whether you be demon or fiancee or loved one. The last is true, and I pray the second remains. The first, however, seems characteristic of your surrounds, not yourself, as you have maintained."
Eric could bear some refreshing himself, for about him was a haze of brooding, as though a light burned within him that coated his chimney with soot.
"Miss Elsie, I presume, attempted kindness toward her mistress."
"In her generosity, she did, but found difficulty in surmounting a continuing disappointment in the lady's actions," Eric pronounced, sounding weary. "Her ending of the tale portrayed a damaged woman stricken in the soul. Perhaps I've some understanding of this."
"Perhaps implies perhaps not," I offered. "But I must add how controlled you are, sir, a condition I expect you to retain as we conclude our composition."
"Very well," Eric remarked, "let us be on with the show, with your exotic creatures of revelation."
"Should not young lovers be holding hands when walking and speaking most intimately?" I replied.
"They should, but mature folk so established in their marriages that they've difficulty with them have less of this tactile romance."
"Praise Jesus, for did I not^mention how I detest such contact?"
"You did, miss, noting the acceptability of intercourse, another activity of young marrieds; whereas ancient folk battered by life's turns find themselves to be people of discourse. Surely this is the source of your repartee, in that you have lived forever. You must have for so many sinister events to have befallen you."
"Either you attempt to develop a method for purging your emotional regret at my life's small disasters without slobbering from your eyes, or else you are cursed with verse again."
"I am cursed with the exquisite Alba, but even in my innocence I can imagine far worse burdens."
"And one might be?"
"To have Lady Amanda as the superior in my household."
"But it seems she is superior in your household, for is it not the Rathel who has turned your parents against the fiancee?"
"I am certain, yes, but her greater intent escapes me."
"The intent is to torment your father. Certainly you know of his former partner in business, the former Franklin Rathel, but know ye the business between Amanda and your father?"
"I know of no business between them as persons, no."
"Then I tell you, sir, the business is that most fugitive kind of entailing a vow, regarding the friendship between Franklin and Edward, though the vow was from the latter to the former's wife."
"If you have tales of these people as a triptych, I would hear of your source in advance, for the method of your having prepared me causes disquiet. Pray God, Alba, I now fear of my own father's . . . misdeeds."
"A misdeed be his, I believe, though the evil was all Amanda's. My source, I say, was Miss Elsie, from her years with the Rathel family, lord and lady. A second source was a woman of my blood, as was she with whom I lived those previous years in the wilds."
"The tale I have of that time is of your being stolen."
"In fact, I freely lived with a person of family, returning only upon her death. But you were a young man then, now having lost that trait, for you are but a man, and so your innocence dies as did my family."
"I am, of course, to fully trust your sources for my dying innocence?"
"Especially the last, for he is your father."
"How might this be, Miss Alba?"
"On a carriage ride to view Christ's Cathedral, I was confronted by your Mr. Denton. His purpose-or his duty-was to reveal his past with the Rathel, and to dissuade me from cooperating with her desire for me to wed the Eric boy."
"What has our marriage to do with my father's vow to Amanda?"
"He vowed in his generosity to care for her well-being if the worst should occur to ill Franklin. Now we arrive at discrepancy. The meaning of 'worst' to your father was Lord Rathel's inability to continue with their mutual business. Death was the idea dreamed of only by Amanda. During Franklin's ill era, she learned that a fever of youth had caused him to be incapable of procreation; whereas Franklin had ever allowed his wife to believe that the fault was her womb. Since a child of her own was all Amanda desired from marriage, she found in your father's vow an opportunity to achieve a more fertile person, one promised to care for her."
"In your composition, Lord Franklin next arbitrarily dies?"
"His death was composed, exactly. Believe you, sir, that from an unlying source I have learned that Lady Rathel sought a material, as though a poison, to kill her husband. But the material given was to Amanda in order to make her forget her deadly intents. It failed, however, though causing her alleged barrenness to become factual."
"Alba, no tale of the real world could be this fantastical."
"I laugh, sir, at your reality, for not a thing bizarre have you heard, but the sort of personal business transpiring between sinners each day in London-do you doubt it?"
"The generality, no, but I would more easily believe Amanda's malice if you would better identify your unlying source."
"She was the person of my blood come to London as you departed for school. I swear to you, sir, of her honesty; yet she had most to lose in conveying this tale, for she had provided Lady Rathel with the killing material under threat of her own death."
"Alba, how can an average person be threatened with death so easily? In England are laws to protect people from threats of murder."
"But the Rathel made no such threat. Her promise was to reveal. You know of Lady Rathel's particular expertise?"
"That of demonology, which I find akin to the carnival and the fat man."
"No, sir, her expertise is in witchcraft, and surely you understand how powerful a belief this is in England. Even if no witch be real, consider the many poor women who have died by the accusation. You think such executions do not occur?"
"I know they have, but they stem from the failings of lawmakers who allow impious mobs to form, and therein lies the evil: ignorant, unjust hatred direct from Satan."
"And as real as that black angel regardless. Thus, you understand the power of Lady Rathel's threats to allege my friend the witch, a believable charge because of this person's unbeauteous form and the Rathel's established expertise." "Yes, this now seems more believable."
"Now that you better comprehend, envision this past business: Not at first did Rathel discover her barrenness. Therefore, she returned to my friend to continue her plan, promising this person a certain death via English law and its hatred of things demonic. Amanda thus received for her threats a true poison with which she killed her husband."
"Alba, Alba, these words are incredible, unbelievable."
"She murdered her husband, I say, via means supplied by my friend, Lucinda, whose choice was to allow death or die herself. And since the way selected was immoral and illegal, why would Lucinda admit the act to be her own if not?"
"I know not, Alba. I know only what you say."
"Sir, know ye not that Rathel near beat me dead? Are you such a fool as to disbelieve this?"
"I believe, I do believe this," he whispered. "But I've not heard your version of the cause."
"Elsie's, I assume, was one of liquor's temporary affliction."
"It was, exactly."
"And not untrue, though morally incomplete, and innocent in not asserting the Rathel to be ever mad."
"You allege that she is?"
"What term be yours to describe her killing her husband to pin a lather for her womb? What word besides madness for her further insanities?"
"And my father's part in this madness?"
"After Franklin died evidently from his illness, Amanda confronted your father with an extreme denouement of his vow: With the husband gone, does not your promise mean that you shall eare for me in the form of marriage? Edward agreed from his own desire, since he considered the time for marriage come if the bond would provide him with an heir; for even as Lady Rathel, Edward had no desire to wed unless its product be a child. But Edward soon learned that Amanda's belly was barren. Then his vow was not rescinded, but reduced; for although Lady Rathel was given the benefits of Franklin's business, Edward would no longer consent to wed her. Being then exiled from her only true desire-a child-perhaps the Lady Rathel did indeed go mad, and came to feel ill toward your father. But not until his marriage did she hate him. Not until he married a lass who near instantly bore this Eric did mad Amanda produce a vow herself, one against Edward, not from his rejecting her marriage, but because he achieved the offspring she could not."
"These things are preposterous," Eric scoffed.
"Far removed from maturity you are to disbelieve the possibility of such things, for these are the lives of sinners. And to receive a further verity, you might well discuss my charges with your father."
"My God, Alba, why not ask me to assault him with my hands?"
"You are the preposterous one now-what has he to hide? Ask of the vow, of his knowledge of Amanda's barrenness, and whether he therefore refrained from marrying her. If some shame he finds therein, then shame he deserves; and as a moral man you will understand and forgive him. But ask not of things he could not know. Especially make no mention of Lord Rathel's murder, for even if your father suspects, no proof exists."
