《But, Why Kill the Wolf?》


 Chapter One

    Victoria, fair lady and daughter of the Tuite household and young lady of the Bridgefold Manor, sat beside the edge of her window admiring the rain falling upon the glass. The constants of the outside view had long bored her, glazed over by the rain regardless.


    The droplets could be counted, named, and renamed as they collect and race down but only for so long. And only before the tempest began in earnest. Fire roared behind her besides, a rare pleasure but one most enjoyed.


    Deep shadows cast harsh against the early morning light. The mood set dim on Victoria''s part, for after hours and weeks of colder, stricter than usual etiquette training, a moment of warm reprieve became more than a faint craving.


    With great appreciation, a free weekend fell upon her, and with her parents away on business, the whole of the estate lay empty.


    Save, of course, for the young lady, her help, and the under-the-breathe wishes that danced quiet through the halls. Echoing silence made the recollections of her lessons peaceful.


    She was told her work was not work at all, and more of a preparation to become a housewife; Yet, the lectures dragged on like a broken leg through a muddy field.


    Sets of mannerisms and routined talking points memorized, though the shaping of any woman would only stretch so far. At the end of the day, it would be comparable to forming clay. The clay stays still itself, no matter what you create. The rain painted itself across the glass, Victoria relaxed.


    For but a moment, through the fog of the glass, almost not beyond view she saw the painted black snout of a doe. Deep, beady eyed and scared, it pranced off away from an unseen foe back and back into the safety of the trees.


    Nervous enough to make a man on a half quart of snuff ashamed, commanding attention for not but a moment and astonishingly still embarrassed.


    Clad in beauty and fresh make-up, she lowered her form and mass of fabric into a luxurious fainting couch off to the corner of the room. The whole of the couch was barely too large for her, but still the armrest fit beneath the back of her neck in a comfortable fashion.


    It was one of the nicer pieces of furniture in the room notwithstanding of course her fireplace, which on occasion had been the root of many more pains than pleasures. Dressed in a dark, deep velvet accompanied by meticulously sewn gold thread and buttons, the entire piece gave Victoria the impression of a skinned King, splayed out for her own comfort.


    It was from here that it seemed she heard not quite the entire property. It was from here that she learned to regret listening in. It was from here, also, that she was now hearing footsteps nearing in on her door.


    ¡°Breakfast is almost ready, my dear.¡± Her young governess said knocking on the door, before peeking her head in.


    ¡°Thank you Meredith, I¡¯ll be out soon.¡±


    She wondered then if the house had ever once been empty. Standing up and leaning against the fire she tried to wake herself up, but only warmed up enough to start moving.


    Her room was soft & dim, with most of the windows locked tightly, and so she took her time pretending to dress, since she woke up a few hours before and had long since composed herself.


    The cold floors helped to shock just a bit as she led herself downstairs; not asleep but barely awake.


    Downstairs, she was greeted with an indulgent ensemble of assortments, including filets of steamed haddock laid atop a parade of julienned carrots and greens, various nuts and grapes and a warm, never empty pot of tea.


    Snacking on a handful of walnuts in a slow contemplation, she dissected and tested the fish from every angle.


    A steamed fish was a marvelously delicate thing, missing the cruel marks of frying, a pale blush instead compliments the white flakes, from skin to flesh. Engaged with dainty lemon peels and sweet herbs atop, the sculpture could not be more romantic.


    A charming thing, reminiscent of a resting child''s cheek. Pieces of the simple creature and its decorated parsley danced across her fork as she considered its composition. There was not much merit in cooking but to Victoria it seemed a fine act, akin to a painting you get to make again and again until you perfected it, and even still then unfinished.


    All the ingredients each its own color, together a melody of highs and lows. Parsley atop, the varnish to finish the product, though a wonderful note all in itself alone.


    One could bathe in or be buried amongst a casket of parsley without complaint, truly a gift of God¡¯s for us to share in but a hint of Heaven''s glory. A flower so well it may boast a better bouquet than any rose yet discovered.


    Victoria continued on this thought as the sun came in through the open windows onto the long table, empty but for herself. Mornings were never loud but this one was quiet, resembling not many before.


    The next few days were due to be increasingly exciting, but not much so for Victoria. Standing near and staying pretty was a skill in itself anyway, so for now she would enjoy whatever peace she stood to gain.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Meredith ran into the dining hall to join Victoria, obviously excited. ¡°Are you ready for this year''s dance, my lady?¡± The question had been expected all morning, as it had been asked with the same enthusiasm for many mornings before.


    Talk of the town was the dance at Bridgefold Manor, and it would not be missed for the world by any single respectable lady in the neighborhood. Some had claimed before that only the death of a mother might or should keep one away, yet any lady who would let such a small trifle keep their daughters at length from proper and respectable marriageability was no lady indeed.


    As a matter of fact, it was only six or so years back when something quite similar happened that, as it was reported by the two daughters of the missus, one mother had so begged and so pleaded upon her death bed as to her girls attending themselves to Bridgefold that the very thought of refusal brought upon such pains of betrayal as to render the idea of their absence impossible.


    On this note Mr. Wilhelm, the father, found the account incorrigible yet neither Victoria nor Meredith would hear a word of it. The two daughters, now missus their own of estates quite respectable, were too fine of face and figure to be thought liars.


    She had it on quite high authority that liars and cheats were ugly and pig-faced, and with a cumulative yearly total close to complimenting their own, in addition to personal and preordained family funds, the truth mattered little regardless. And in fact, if the truth of the matter were to reveal such a miserly matriarch existing, the whole of it might be disregarded as never at all having been heard in the first place.


    To this point, her ballerina fork ceased its lifetime performance and was set to the wayside with enough slow purpose for Victoria to think of something smart to say.


    ¡°Our famous ¡®Husband Roulette¡¯ you mean? Oh yes of course! I am sure you understand how overjoyed the thought leaves me! Forever how I have longed to be pawned off to the highest bidder, hung up on the highest shelf much obliged to perform the act of a ceremonial sheath.¡±


    She smiled at her own quips, taking the conversation only half serious. Meredith didn¡¯t think it was so funny.


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t say such things! Your parents do so well to engage you and to keep their yearly ball as fashionable as one could ever imagine. You¡¯d be best to not ruin opportunities for yourself before realizing how crucial they might be¡±


    A passive groan somehow resembling the phrase Perish the thought may have come from the dining table but was disregarded as quick as it was heard.


    ¡°Have you any idea how many beautiful couples have come together during this time of year?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps¡­ five? No wait! Six!¡±


    She laughed again to herself, of course their yearly dances were important, and a great deal more for women scarcely coming of age such as herself. Unfortunately however, it was more fun to tease than to take any of that seriously so early in the day.


    Still, a cold glare was all it took to force a realignment in the conversation, ¡°Yes, yes fine, I do understand that it is important. Husbands and all, children and legacies and the like. And yes, I have tried my best to prepare, you should know that better than anyone else. You do worry quite a bit too much, do you not?¡±


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    "Oh how could I worry too much about you? Ridiculous I say¡± She said, returning a smile ¡°Now eat up, you have plenty to catch up on once your parents get back.¡± And with that Meredith got up and left, patting Victoria on the head before leaving.


    They were as good as the same age, maybe Victoria seemed slightly older from solely looking at them but somehow the young governess had always been something like an older sister to her, for as long as she remembered.


    The two girls were just about the same height, though Meredith hunched a slight and her shoes were never as tall. One might at a glance assume them to be lifelong friends so similar was their looks and demeanor; friends but never sisters.


    For one Victoria had bright blonde hair, with neat white streaks running through, that reflected in light matching the sun off the ocean. In contrast Meredith had a beautiful bun of light brown hair always hung up, exposing the back of her bone frail neck decorated with a scant vail of angel hairs.


    The two were the peak beauties of their respective classes. Lhotse and Everest forever stuck above the clouds among their peers. Peers came few and far between either way; Even with a day so free to Victoria no friends came to mind for who she might enjoy calling on.


    No plays or rehearsals for which she might like to share and, as the name suggested, the governess was in no position to go off gallivanting.


    The lady of the house had once mentioned having had Meredith¡¯s mother in their service before, but had not gone on to say what happened. Nor could she think of any reason or circumstance to inquire, since having a girl the same age as her was much nicer than any old woman might ever be, Victoria reasoned.


    Seemed a shame, but if it bothered Meredith then none were able to tell. Not that that had ever stopped Missus Tuite from commenting on the apparently unending inadequacies of their fair governess.


    Now left without a purpose, Victoria took all the time she wanted in finishing her meal and headed back upstairs. The day gained a brighter light but it meant nothing to her, for there was not a lady in the country that spent her days baking in the sun.


    The railings and walls had all been freshly dusted and scrubbed back and beyond their original shine, with new curtains and stair runners to match the tastes of this season. Everything old or in the way had been moved or discarded in preparation for this weekend, save for a few of her fathers items.


    Of where they kept the old and brought the new, she knew not and cared little. An ashtray here, a cocktail glass there and a book on a pier table beside the entrance of her room. All of it had been ignored now for just over a week which, as it just so happened, was exactly as long as it took before peaking her interest.


    The novel was a small, quaint little thing with a ghastly, herbal green, fabric hardcover. Though it was seemingly recently printed, already the pages were beginning to yellow against the near constant of its reader''s habit of smoking, yet still retaining the damp, dusty scent of fresh paper.


    The author was listed as an assortment of three initials, a tactic her father had once declared meant that they were probably a woman, or perhaps a Frenchman in the guise of an intellectual. Despite this opinion the novel seemed well read enough, sporting a dogear page somewhere near the middle, however untouched it had been in those past weeks.


    The pages still felt cold from the morning air, and pressing them against her cheek left a smooth and comforting sensation as if one was a cat being pet by only the most sensitive of owners.


    She didn¡¯t read much.


    The rest of the day she spent alone in her room, rising only for a spot of tea in the afternoon, but otherwise content in rest. Day turned to night and the pot that was her patience had since started to boil over. Matched with the energy she bottled up over the course of her day and the veil of darkness, a plan of escape emerged.


    Tidying up her room she bid time until Meredith came back for one last visit, inquiring for anything else that may be needed before being graciously sent away until morning.


    And with that, the adventure began!


    Especially so with the dance coming up, she knew that all the extra maids would be busy for the night. No doubt by now they had already thought she was asleep, so getting caught sneaking out was of little worry.


    Even with the extra hands, many years had come before this night to memorize every step and schedule of all on the estate. This left her first task of escape as an easy footnote.


    In the past, returning had always been the real problem. It wouldn¡¯t be until near midnight that the halls would be empty, so the main entrance absolutely would not do, but this was far from the first time.


    Victoria started by putting out the fire and opening the latch of the window, left close to rusted away from lack of use. Letting out the smoke so as to not come back home to any unfortunate, sooty, surprises, she turned to prepare her climb out. Being on the 2nd floor helped to not sprain an ankle but just that was not enough.


    Besides injury, the real danger was of the potential damage to the white lilacs below. Ankles be damned, if her mother found the flowers destroyed she would find the rest of her childhood beat out of her with a whisk.


    With that in mind, tying herself up to repel down was out of the question. Even if it would be a soft landing into the shrubs, anything that left the vaguest Victoria-shaped silhouette was not an option.


    So she reasoned, if common sense (the front door) and safety were being thrown out the window, she might as well be doing the same herself.


    Grabbing the largest pillow she had, Victoria held it tight against her chest, opened the window as much as it could stand, prepared a running start and with one thud, bump, and roll she was out. Tucking in her knees against the pillow helped to protect her ankles, a hint she had once learned from great pains before.


    While maybe not the most elegant of solutions, she was assured that if someone were to ever see her leap, they quite literally may not believe their eyes. The onset of an opium fever perhaps, yes, but the young lady of the house, jumping headfirst into the mud at night? No, surely not.


    The air was damper than usual and it was still raining, but only lightly and enough to still be able to dry off. The rain felt nice against her skin, and was a good cover anyways.


    There was nothing else in the world like this to her. Escaping from the mundane, if only for a moment, and drinking in the wilderness of her surroundings. A young woman such as herself only ever drank this in so many times in their lives, and she knew this.


    Consuming every drop, every sight and every sensation before her.


    Their manor was pressed against a forest, quite away from much of the main city, for as it grew so too did the filth, but she kept little care enough to dwell on them. The forest was what had always amazed her, not the people.


    Though it was not to the liking of her mother, the few trips she went with her father to the woods when she was younger was enough to solidify the interest.


    Her muffled steps pranced into the forest, careful not to be seen or heard, and slowly the trees began to catch the rain for her. There was no particularity in the adventure, rather a general need to see the sky and stars for as long as she could afford was the only catalyst for her misdeeds.


    The stars asked no questions, and the sky would never once care if you lived or died. The moist air about would especially be an anxiety to her mother, for fear of disease, yet still she never hoped to care. Besides, just so long as Victoria kept clean, there would always be no one to find out.


    Head in the grass she considered the values and issues of keeping clean, the considerable repetitiveness of it all, when turning to the side left her face to face with the blood dyed, black beady eyes of a dead bunny.


    Curious. How peculiar¡­ Rabbits live in holes, no?


    It made no sense why one would be left dead outside, true, however the marks of a wolf''s jaw on the exterior of its thigh gave a hint. Perhaps something scared the wolf off and the rabbit was left to die long after? But what would scare a wolf and not eat a bunny? Guess it doesn¡¯t matter Victoria reasoned before sitting up to look upon the corpse.


    It seemed largely unharmed. Save for the dots of blood from the holes in the thigh and all from its face, otherwise still picture perfection and when she turned it over onto the other side, the missing holes made even clearer its white coat. After a nice wash she was sure the color would be beyond stunning.


    Spreading the legs of the rabbit, Victoria revealed the deepest section of its wound where the fur was thinnest and the skin shown pink. Shoving her right index finger and left thumb inside made clear an opening to what she was looking for.


    After tearing the fur down into its extended leg bone and pushing aside its fleshy tendons, it was finally shown through like a white, heavenly lighthouse, the joint connecting the leg and foot bones.


    There was a rumor or legend, whatever the difference was, that a rabbit''s foot was good luck, and she felt she needed as much as a hoard of feet might give.


    Gripping her thumbs inside the rabbit, deep against opposing bones and leaving the remainder of her hands to twist the outside body, with a quick rip, pop and pull, the foot of the bunny had at last been relieved of its master. Now, given instead the duty to provide the good luck she so hoped for.


    With the acquisition of a neat trinket, Victoria had so quickly traded the very cleanliness that was only recently being considered. Though it had only been a visit perhaps no longer than an hour, the newfound need to clean up her bloodied hands now expedited the end. With only the moonlight to see under, her bloodied hands resembled more of a black than red. The sight was almost unsettling.


    With these expeditions, she kept her secrets simple, while others kept her life luxurious. It was the secret of a noble daughter, a daughter destined to be handed off to the richest, most worthwhile man within arms reach. That was what she learned to do, day in and day out. Not to live as a creature in the forest.


    Simple things come and stay and leave all just as simply. For by the time the rain ended, the air chilled enough to force her away.


    She never liked the cold, besides her parents were due to arrive tonight and she was sure her father would be less than pleased to know she was rolling around in the mud for pleasure. Victoria wrapped the foot in her sleeve and continued back.


    Getting home was easier than leaving, since she could simply go through the front door with everyone asleep, and thankfully she did not need to risk almost breaking her neck being stupid again.


    The hard part was cleaning up afterwards, but with some water heated from the charcoal of the dead fire, she was soon clean and asleep.


    Holding the rabbit¡¯s pink paw pads against her cheek, the girl was truly a model of peace.

 Chapter Two

    To the Devil with both you and that virtue of yours! Were the greeting words of Victoria''s father, hours before sunrise as he and her mother came rushing through the front door.


    Being woken up was one thing, but what actually annoyed her was that if she had been listening, who else on this damned half-mile of property started to perk up their ears as well? And only days before her whole moment, drama and talk throughout the neighborhood had been the last thing she wanted.


    If she heard it, she was sure that any other soul passing by the estate could as well, and yet still they continued.


    ¡°You have to be joking?!¡±


    ¡°For the love of Christ just shut up Elizabeth! I cannot stand you now any more than any other time you open that wretched jowl of yours!¡±


    ¡°I''ve no more a jowl than you¡¯ve a gut yet you continue on? If you¡¯ve spent half as much time thinking with your head as you do your coin purse then perhaps we would agree on quite literally any single thing?!¡±


    ¡°And just what sort of man would you expect to reason with the back biting snake that stands now in the guise of a spaniel? If not tell the neighborhood, what should stop you from publicizing the whole events of our lives? Shout our follies from the damned rooftops, why don''t you! Put us in the papers, or walk from door to door to explain we¡¯re naught but a family of fools, is that what you would wish?¡±


    The yelling continued downstairs, forcing Victoria up and most likely Meredith as well, though neither would ever dare interfere. The sun had yet to rise, and would stay down for many more remaining hours, and Victoria at least took solace in the fact that her parents arrived home safe.


    ¡°You¡¯re always doped up and never listen, I never should have married you! I hate the family you¡¯ve so loved and I ha-¡± Elizabeth screamed this last damnation and proclamation of hate before tolls too deep had been endured.


    All Victoria heard was a slap and a loud thud against the wall, not far from her room, followed by more yelling from her father. There was nothing to be done, quite so from but a lowly daughter, lest she find herself in the same danger.


    The noise came to an end after that, and with it any intent to fight back. Only soft sobs peaked through the cold air, still ill at ease.


    It was only but a handful of moments after silence re-enveloped the house that Victoria heard the door of her room creak open.


    The footsteps alone told her that it was her mother, still crying and despite the dark an obvious bruise was spotted. There was no need to turn and greet, it was obvious she¡¯d be awake, and with care the soft white fur of the rabbit''s foot disappeared into Victoria''s sleeve.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry¡­¡± Elizabeth pleaded to her daughter in a voice half dead, but all she did was look at the texture of the fabric of her sheets as her mother crawled into the bed.


    ¡°Mom, no it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s fine. Please, don''t apologize. Please¡­¡±


    Victoria didn¡¯t know what to say, or why her mother was apologizing to her. It was all too much. The sobbing subsided and with little attention, Elizabeth began playing with her daughter''s hair. This had not been an unusual scene to hear played out but never had her mother felt the need to crawl into her bed before.


    And still, she did not understand what her mother could be apologizing for.


    Rather than sad she appeared¡­ desperate. Almost needy; on the verge of asking a question or saying something yet unable completely to even open her mouth. It was pitiful.


    The whole ordeal, the fighting, the late nights, the hair petting was all so nostalgic; Perhaps homey. A scene replayed time and time again forever since childhood.


    Once, when Victoria was much younger than now, the family took a summer trip to Austria and, after a rather unusual musical performance manned entirely of the beastial kind, he had struck her mother upon mumbling her rather planful dislike of the canine on harpsichord.


    The remainder of the piece was heard much clearer from then on, to everyone¡¯s assured discontent. The duck on recorder was more painful, in Victoria¡¯s estimation either way.


    The beasts had their way with the stage and she knew then that it must be that way everywhere.


    After some time the petting stopped and she felt her mothers breathing deep and slow; she was asleep and the pressure of her mothers unconscious body against her own was not unpleasant but definitely numbing. Trying to adjust proved to be a futile endeavor, and so settling in for a long night was about all that could be done.


    The sun rose by the time she awoke and so did she after failing to fall back asleep for many hours. Still painfully aware of the night before and not wanting to confront it she was left alone in her room expecting something to happen.


    Her mother was gone, but somehow her anxieties had stayed behind. She half hoped the night before had been a dream, yet the faint stains of blood between her nails proved to the contrary well enough.


    It was clear she had gotten at least some sleep however, as the letter by the door on the floor of her room suggested proof enough that she had been unable to answer whoever had been sent to deliver it.


    Almost every morning had given her the displeasures of being woken, dressed, fed and prayed for all on the scheduled whims of Missus Tuite yet though wanting, these past few days of being left to her own whims had proven a degree more difficult than she imagined.


    If I can¡¯t wake up on time for virtually my own birthday, it¡¯s a wonder I can even feed myself without any help.


    The event had first been conceived on Victoria¡¯s 5th birthday which was a fact that, a full eleven years later, had been long lost behind the desires of the attendees.


    With her self-depreciations and chastisements over not being able to keep a bedtime in mind, she turned to the letter. While Victoria was not lacking in companions for writing by any means, she was surprised by its arrival.


    Her most dearest friend in letters was her cousin Abel who due to his most excitable nature only often wrote at the peak of winters, when so compelled by boredom did he pick up the pen, and it had only recently begun into autumn! There were aunts and friends otherwise, but none who would send any letters at all not pertaining to their acceptance or withdrawal of the night''s event.


    In short, it simply was not time for letters and yet still it lay there.


    The address on the face of the opened envelope made clear that it had been meant for her father although it was much more likely, almost positively so, that her mother had either brought it herself or had it sent.


    Somehow at home Mr. Tuite was both slovenly in his action and, strangely enough, also hated things done for him. So much so that he¡¯d often walk right past Meredith towards the kitchen rather than wait for anything to be prepared.


    It was presumptuous to think he¡¯d bring up anything himself and besides, he always kept a quiet distance from her door. Regardless, the letter was removed and she read on.


    The first few letters had been removed, as only a single page remained in the envelope, though the first few lines suggested to her that they must have been pertaining to business, tax, properties and other such details that did not matter to herself but had meant something to someone.


    This someone had been suggested enough by an initial look at the return address, yet reading further had confirmed it. For some reason, this letter to her father was from his very brother, her uncle, Charles Tuite. And for an even stranger reason, the letter of an uncle she had still yet to meet, had landed on the floor of her room. It was with vivacious curiosity that she continued. Her materials began thus;


    ¡­ With my apologies of many years absence given and manners of business properly attended, it is with steady and resolved hesitation, dare I say hopefulness, that I move on to the proposed goal of my writing. I know surely that while the heart of my dearest brother may stray, never shall his mind and so it is to your mind, my precious sibling, that I aim to entreat upon.


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    Though past acts of trivial forgetfulness, for trivial it must be as never with spite have I sought to harm, must demand forgiveness I know more sure that it shall be given than I know of God¡¯s own great deliverance - And it is with this belief in the greatness of God¡¯s own children, Man, and of my brothers, that I hold firm the belief in my being forgiven. With no doubts of allowance, it is thus I continue.


    As a man of law, a man of wealth and a man of God I ask most humbly, yet still more generously, for the allowance of the reconnection of myself into the graces of our family name through the means of your eldest daughter''s hand.


    While I¡¯ve yet to meet the child myself I am most sure in your abilities of progenitorship to turn any ill-conceived brat of the devil into porcelain perfection, and no doubt with a child so dear as your own.


    Already have I taken on the considerable burden of inquiries upon properties in your neighborhood, and already have I sought to encumber my help by preparing for the journey to Bridgefold Manor, so a fit and pleasurable response is expected. Not in writing shall any response be prepared however, for as I draw nearer while you read I shall demand that your favorable response come in person instead!


    With considerable apprehension, your brother and friend


    -


    Charles W. Tuite


    Long after finishing with the letter did the paper sit in her hand, still as the wild wind beneath water, in longing expectations for an explanation. An answer. Anything that would tell her what in the world came over her parents to allow such a selfishly hideous material to dirty the floor of her room.


    Perhaps they had only wished her to know of his designs as well as his nature of pure self-righteous expectations. He may perhaps be in at any moment now, or had already arrived for the breakfast she had so mindlessly missed, and it would be useless then to try to hide his wishes.


    She was near positive this must be the case, since to be so foolhardy as to attempt to use her own fathers faith against him to try for forgiveness was nothing more than the plan of a mad sap. And no mad sap made a Tuite, nor hardly at all a man as she understood it.


    Yet still, near positive was only just as sure as she could be.


    ¡°Did they¡­¡± Victoria whispered to herself, setting down the letter, ¡°Could they possibly expect me to approve his proposal after reading such a terrible thing? I mean, he called me a brat before even the decency of a look? And to my father no less.¡±


    This thought again strengthened Victoria''s newfound convictions against her uncle, and slipped the note back in its envelope before beginning to practice ways to deny a proposal so distasteful. She was positive there would never be any designs between the two.


    Noise from the main dining room downstairs flooded up urging her to join, followed by the pleasant smell of the morning, pheasant and parsley. It was busy as she walked down, a completely different mood from the night before, no dreams or confessions of regret but instead a single, full plate waiting for her with all the accouterments one might hope for.


    Pretending that nothing had happened after certain excitements was a family special, and that was exactly what she planned to do with both the sleepless night, and the letter. The smell of a sweet black tea through the halls helped.


    It was the day before the dance, exciting, yet other things laid more heavy on her mind than in finding men to spin around with. She knew that for the maids and for her mother it would be a busy day, but thankfully that was their cross to bear.


    Hours of planning, decorating, cleaning, cooking, as well as decades of traditions to entertain. A pain sure, but a pleasure for all those invited. It was over an entire month of pain for the family, but it mattered not. It was all of no consequence before their ball.


    Fires could spew directly from the mouth of Hell, bringing both Europe and the sea with it, and still her father would find couples to dance and be wed and merry.


    Of course there were other parties, other dances, and they always attended as a matter of course and manner, but those were elsewhere and of a dignity befitting their respective manor. To accept less than perfect would be the truest height of folly, and to that end everything from the carpets to the curtains had been uplifted to the season''s fashion. It was a fresher look, with more accents of deeper reds.


    A brisk luncheon and dinner came and went, and even Victoria herself knew that she should have been woken up long before this time to be doing her own share. It had probably been a rare show of pity from her mother that she had been left to sleep in.


    A pity not long for this world, for as she returned to her room she noticed a heavy, teal and white dress hanging off her door with a note attached.


    Good luck my dear.


    With the contents of her uncle''s foul letter still fresh in her mind, she could not help but to momentarily spurn the attire, yet the beauty of it and her love for the fashion had by far and clear won out.


    Victoria rushed to dress, though prematurely, into the delicate piece. Though there was still another day to wait, and far too many layers to try rushing, the dress was too pretty not to try on. Much longer than any daily wear she had owned before, the entire outfit stretched from nearly the tip of her chin all the way down to the floor with almost still a meter to trail behind.


    Frills ran from the end of the white collar, down the middle front and sides of the body, across sleeves and onto each of the cuffs. Down across the body of the dress the middle frills joined in, spinning at the waist. Closing the distance with each twist across before finally coming together at the very end of the train, leaving the impression that the white frills were unwrapping the delicate delicate blues of the outside fabric.


    As she climbed into the sleeves and wrestled with getting the back waist of the fabric to meet in confidence with her half completed corset, she noticed small, blue flowers had been sewn into every inch of the white.


    Never had she worn something so elegant or, frankly, expensive. Never had she reason to either. Everything was so smooth against her skin and even with the weight of it all, she seemed lighter than any ballerina in the whole of the world.


    After a few precious moments of admiring herself, Victoria fought back into her plain sage day dress and headed downstairs to join everyone else. Nothing takes your mind away more so than the preparation of your own 16th birthday party for two-hundred.


    The rest of the day was spent thus, in hurries and anxieties, and there were none that went to bed with any less than a half-full mind.


    There was no adventure to be had that night.


    ?


    ¡°Good morning!¡± She faked a smile, still being tired so soon after waking up, just wanting to bring some light into the manor that day.


    Everyone was running around, cooking or cleaning or in between waltzing around chore after chore. There was still a few hours before anyone arrived, but with the way they ran about one might imagine that guests had already begun to fly in one after another.


    Their fair lady of the house, for presumably the umpteenth time, was resetting the silverware arrangements upon the dinning table in a fantastic, half sleeved pink empire dress and looked back upon her daughter as she entered the room. She had a spot more makeup than usual but nothing anyone else might notice.


    Her mothers hand with the brush had been beyond fantastic long before ever having a child.


    ¡°Oh love yes, and how good a morning it is! Aren''t you excited for the festivals of tonight''s beautiful evening? Come, come love, let us put together this table quickly. Then shall we have Meredith get your dress and makeup together? She should have already set everything together already, or I dare say there will be consequences. Of course she¡¯ll have to manage her own groom on her own time, still it would be a shame to have you without her and I¡¯ve half a mind to ruin any spoils she finds, for it¡¯d be a damned thing to have your own governess show you up, now wouldn¡¯t it? Of course it would, now of course.¡±


    And so they finished their task and headed back upstairs, finding Meredith to join them. Elizabeth took her to the corner and whispered a few things, only for a moment, and turned around to sit Victoria down in front of a large mirror.


    ¡°Now Victoria, your father is out making face and traveling around the town collecting his friends together for the party tonight, so it is now that we must take our time preparing.¡± Her mother spoke, with a sense of matter of fact while Meredith silently pulled Victoria''s hair back and began working.


    ¡°Have you given any thought to your prospects for tonight? I¡¯m more than certain your hand will be the one most asked for so please try not to let any flippant bachelor hog you for too long.¡± Missus Tuite spoke after a great many uncomfortable moments of silence brushing through her daughter''s hair. Taking the chance to escape from the awkwardness, she took the hint and answered twice as enthusiastically as she felt.


    ¡°Oh well you know Sir Langston is a wonderful man and I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be here tonight, though I don¡¯t know him quite well and who¡¯s to say he thinks anything of me for we¡¯ve met only but the once some time ago but you know how I adore sailors and a fine sailor I hear he is. The papers say so, I¡¯ve read it time and time again that he¡¯s a fine sailor and I¡¯m sure the papers aren¡¯t to be mistaken, now we¡¯d be in quite a bit of bad luck now if that were the case, no? Anyways he¡¯s maybe a bit too old for me I suspect, for a failing husband makes no good teacher, I¡¯m sure and Mr. Abbott¡¯s son, you know Mr. Abbott I¡¯m sure? Oh good. We used to have little John Abbott here in the summers for the horses I remember, and he seemed just the type of husband I¡¯d wish to have if I recall correctly. A fine, calm natured boy but not at all shy.¡±


    She had long since been speaking frantically, and almost told the whole of her story in a single breath until feeling her mothers hand reach onto her shoulder as if to say that¡¯ll be fine now.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that. I¡¯m really very glad and you¡¯re right, Mr. Abbott''s boy is a fine man now, he¡¯s grown very well.¡± She finished up her work and kissed her daughter on the cheek before standing. Grabbing her mothers hand, Victoria stood up and led herself to a mirror. She was in awe, in shock really.


    For a while during the conversation Victoria expected her mother to touch on the subject of her uncle, or about the letter even, but held no disappointment at all when it did not come. A relief rather came over her and as she let them lead her to the spotlight of her own party, she relished in admiring herself anew with every step.

 Chapter Three

    Tip, tap and her heels go click, clack down; Feet sheathed in silver down a freshly stained staircase, no longer the enjoyer. Rather, pleasantly the enjoyed ¡ª a thousand stars in the sky but none brighter than thee.


    Unbeknownst to herself, a grateful crowd she had so hoped to avoid had packed themselves leaking from the foyer outside into the forecourt, all to gain the first glance at the new lady in her best dress. A fountain of attention to be sure, but very much so overflowing, and any hopes of slipping quietly into her own party had been crushed immediately upon arrival.


    If I slip now, it¡¯s all over, with every step she fret. Though, to all below, her concentration made the scene seem rather regal.


    Truthfully, she had not expected this celebration of faces right after leaving her room, but she knew it was only best to make the most of the spectacle.  Few among the faces were familiar, but that mattered so little.


    For all, there was a terrible desire to not lose a moment of the euphoria within the air. As the moon grew brighter upon the sky, so too did the hopes that each hour may bring delights greater than the last. Each breath enjoyed as sweet liquor, each dance with each man met with laughter and ecstasy, and even if the night was to be her last, it would be the greatest of all that she could hope for.


    Maybe it was the lights, the chill air, or the many handsome men, but never had she wished so badly to live in and not leave a moment.


    And so she danced, and so she drank, and so upon a lover¡¯s bright candlelight she merried; A cherub herself upon a garden of delight.


    ¡°If I may, you seem quite too far in thought for this beautiful night. Might I ask what could trouble such a fine woman?¡± A voice spoke from above, startling her.


    By the time of this intrusion, it had been many hours since the start of the ball and most her energy had already been expended.


    The man above her was handsome and well dressed, though in all aspects nothing apart from the norm, except that he was younger than much the rest present. The boy¡¯s face was soft apart from the rough, though eloquent, men who filled the floor. Though she had only glanced up from the startle, she quickly looked away to ignore him.


    ¡°If I am not mistaken, a man should never approach so brazenly. Or perhaps, were you not taught such things? In which case I can only pity.¡±


    ¡°Taught, no. Told, however? Yes. There¡¯s only so much anyone can hope to remember when faced with a woman as beautiful as yourself.¡± He held out his hand to ask for a dance, only to be met by Victoria getting up to walk away. A man so rude could be charming, sure, but only so much of a degree could be handled. Besides that, in her eyes, a lack of an introduction was as near to a death sentence as could be. However, walking away she felt a strong hand lay on her shoulder to stop her.


    ¡°I believe I made myself cle-¡± Victoria blurted out, assuming the man had followed her, only to find her father holding onto her. Her heart stopped, and his eyes were strained, yet happy, with a definite excitement.


    ¡°Well someone really is tired now aren¡¯t they?¡± He chuckled and motioned her back to the young man ¡°Honey, I want you to meet Victor, he¡¯s the son of a close business acquaintance I know and he has been dying to meet you. Victor, I apologize for my daughter''s rashness. I promise you that she is just like her mother, a true beauty!¡±


    ¡°Oh! Well, that is quite alright! Given the chance I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll find that I can be a little more than a hassle to get used to as well!¡±


    How quickly they are to ruin my fun. It¡¯s like I¡¯m not even here¡­


    The two continued their talk, dipping into the works of his father, but nothing that could be of any interest to her. She stayed patient only because she knew she must, and at best appeared to pretend to be interested.


    It was known that women should be adept at standing about to be kept around as a centerpiece for comments, without so much as a whisper to be expected from her. But, as the words of these two men trailed along the air, the desire to escape thickened into an exigent fog around her mind. Her eyes tore away from the dull statues before her onto the fleeting crowd of the late night, in search of anything to save her.


    Eventually, they relinquished their grip upon her attention and moved to the drawing room with a group of a few other men-of-law for cigars, the younger excusing himself with a deep bow. He tried to be a polite gentleman no doubt, but with neither interest nor attention. Surely her father knew as much, and it was easy enough to believe she had only been attended to for the purpose of smoothing a conversation that may later prove difficult.


    No matter if she liked it, Victoria had a competent ability in creating favorable dispositions where previously only venom could be found.


    Much of the night was spent thus; one dance after another, some partners silent and fast or loud and slow. Others quite pleasant yet in opposition with the rest, for though many faces had come to play or sing, the whole of the performances were often half a tempo too fast. To dance pleasantly among such conditions meant having to move half a beat also too slow which, while a reprieve from the exercise, made the partners appear slovenly in the crowded hall.


    Abbott¡¯s boy, John, was one of these dancers and Victoria was at a loss to decide if she enjoyed more matching everyone else''s pace at her own expense, or keeping a more comfortable pace at theirs. No doubt he was nervous and while still smooth, the steps showed it.


    Still, he had been polite enough to wait his turn until the end of her long line of suitors and Don Juan¡¯s alike, to ask for the last before she would be likely to take a rest, so perhaps he was more considerate than he was a poor performer.


    ¡°So, is it all you¡¯ve ever wished for?¡± John asked, as he raised his left hand to the sky using a slow spin in the dance to gesture at the entirety of the hall. He was no learned man by any means, but alas fine feathers truly made the bird.


    A well-fit, better worn, suit could fool the lot and she found that at that moment, there was rather a fondness to the prospects of being taken a fool. With her hand now free, she lifted up the sleeve of her dress to her face laughing, in a clumsy attempt to hide her flushing cheeks, before responding.


    ¡°Well, I am not exactly sure what I was wishing for, but this is quite pleasant. Find me with a bit more energy and I might go as far to say that it''s been as close to perfect as possible. Satisfying to see the space too, truth be told. We only use this hall once a year, it is too big to keep up with when we so infrequently entertain, you know? Seems a waste, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°True. It does seem a waste.¡± He agreed, seemingly annoyed by the idea, before continuing on with a renewed interest. ¡°So, if this isn¡¯t it, then what were you imagining instead?¡±


    ¡°Well for one, there isn¡¯t a single knight among all these powered faces. Nor a royal of any worth, now that I think about it.¡± She thought that was a stupid question and tried not to answer too seriously. She had waited and dreamt on account of this birthday for as long as she could remember, nearly a decade back from then, and now that dreams were reality she was just glad she had made it.


    ¡°Well now don¡¯t be too harsh,¡± he chuckled, ¡°I heard when I came in that your father managed to invite something like a duke from somewhere off east. Or perhaps it was south? No matter. His only daughter, Sophie, has come to join as well. A treat all around, I mean, she¡¯s basically a princess!¡±


    ¡°And his country?¡± Victoria inquired skeptically.


    ¡°Not sure, who knows. A snoop only hears half of the good half of a story, and I figure I¡¯m no better eavesdrop than any other fool around here.¡±


    ¡°Hah! If you find yourself a fool, the rest of this party must be as well as mongrel food. And either way, a duke is royalty in the same way a man is godly; Born of, but not close to.¡±


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°The rest of the party aside, I am a fool for you alone, I assure.¡±


    ¡°Yet still a fool nonetheless I see. And even after I was so nice to give the benefit of the doubt. How rude.¡± Victoria joked, a smile sneaking its way in. A pause interrupted, more sober than awkward, and her next comment came out maybe more sincere than she intended.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since we have gotten to talk. I¡¯ve wondered why, you know. I¡¯ve missed it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve missed you too,¡± The distinction was not lost on her, and it took everything she had to keep listening with a still composure.


    ¡°But surely you¡¯re joking. My father lost all he was worth, not long before we left the neighborhood. Mr. Tuite would never be caught letting such a poor standing find its way into your correspondence. Honestly, I was too scared to try. Only recently have we built our way back up on reputation. Even with the invitation, coming here has made it clear that we are only half the name we had once been.¡±


    ¡°I never knew, I¡¯m so sorry.¡± She said, looking away with genuine shame. ¡°My father¡­ Did he say as much?¡±


    ¡°Not quite.¡± He admitted. ¡°But mine had. I suppose that was enough for me at the time. I¡¯m sorry for never writing but I felt, as ashamed as I am to admit it, what use is a boy with nothing but his attitude to a girl with everything?¡± With as high as he always seemed to hold himself, this was a bit hard to believe and it took her a moment to recognize what she was hearing as the truth.


    ¡°You rate yourself too low, and myself much too high! That I can promise without reserve. Besides, I like your attitude, and think you a brute for keeping me so long in the dark no matter the reason!¡±


    ¡°I can apologize in a thousand ways, but I think you¡¯re only half serious regardless. Either way, I promise to send as many letters from here on as I can manage. I can think of much to say, though a little less to actually tell.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m always only half serious, that¡¯s not fair.¡± Victoria pouted. ¡°But I look forward to it, as eager as if the ink had already begun to dry.¡±


    With her last quip came the end of the performer''s ballad and Victoria took the first chance to escape for a chair at the edge of the room. By then her feet ached more than ever and it was a wonder she could stand. Before leaving, John gave a deep bow of thanks and went off on his own into the gardens.


    The weather was agreeable and a rare, cloudless night brightened everything enough for pleasant walks. She thought it was amazing he could stand to think of walking though, as she was in no want of company.


    A full quarter of the hall was lined with chairs, placed closest to the entrance from the foyer. Opposite the entrance was an exit that led directly outside to the garden, accompanied by a windowed alcove a step above the rest in height, with a piano and such for any entertainer worth their while to present with. Of which many a lad and lady made good use.


    Right beside and beyond laid a covered patio, hugging the entire length of the wall, so encroaching was their garden and all the growth of nature beyond it.


    The architect, some Parisian, had an obsession with greenery and it showed. Either that, or he had been a fraudulent cheapskate, as Mr. Tuite thought himself since a large portion of the property that should have been built upon was instead redone with the help of a landscaper to create a modest maze of various rose bushes complementing the back of the estate.


    Additionally, three fountains of French design were built at an equal distance along a horizontal center, with a fourth much larger one placed out front. The piece depicted a woman standing behind and above a man sprawled out on the ground, staring longingly into the fountain''s water.


    It supposedly portrayed the Greek myth of Narcissus and, as one might guess, neither the architect nor landscaper had been invited back for any season following. It was no matter of tastes or aesthetics either, although the statue and its implications were not lost. Rather it was an issue of size.


    The house currently was no fit for company, beyond a handful of guest rooms kept empty. Already the missus complained too often of their governess and help alike being too visible, and while the long walks brought much joy and good exercise, it was not like one could just live outside. A Tuite may be many things, but a dog was certainly not one of them.


    Finding a seat was easy enough. Victoria had hoped to see a few girls from the neighborhood she knew sitting down with her but despite her hopes, it was instead an older man, nearly elderly, who had gotten up from his own seat to join her by hers. Before there was even any chance to ask for an introduction, he went on.


    ¡°Now I know, or guess, that you might not mind ma¡¯am but I¡¯d be quite, oh quite reminisce to not mention that there tear in your dress.¡± And with that, the man raised a sickly finger to point down near the end of her trail. Sure enough, along near the back of her left foot, there stood out a rip almost the size of her palm.


    ¡°Oh my! I guess I hadn¡¯t noticed. Thank you but, well, what now?¡± She held the fabric up for a closer inspection and wondered how it happened. It was probably stepped on by another couple, and though a sorry sight, she breathed a sigh of relief that the misstep hadn¡¯t taken herself down with it.


    ¡°I see you don¡¯t care. It¡¯s just as well, no doubt.¡± The man spits out.


    ¡°Well, I just supposed-¡±


    ¡°You supposed much, no doubt. Though again, it¡¯s just as well. These pieces, the dresses you see, now no they aren¡¯t made quite like they used to be. No doubt, really.¡± He slapped his thigh to make the point clear but when no response came he suddenly went on, apparently encouraged.


    ¡°And these dances too! Now I know these things here, now I know, they go on and on and they go but now well when, do you suppose, that is to say you know, that is to ask when does one end? They go on and on into the night, into the night and past, into twilight even I dare say! And, still, not one gentleman asks to end it? Now I know these ladies and a lady you are, I have no doubt, I see you and I see a lady, again no doubt, run such events for themselves and none other but I assure you! Any gentleman of his worth can tell his ladies what to do and when to do it. No doubt, yes no doubt about it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure¡­¡± She left a deliberate, terrible pause in the conversation, before holding out her hand in hopes of now receiving an introduction after such a proclamation.


    ¡°Victoria Tuite. I¡¯m charmed.¡±


    ¡°Charmed no doubt.¡± He said, leaving her hand hanging in the air without so much as noticing, ¡°I hear you¡¯re the Lady-To-Be of the Bridgefold estate. Congratulations, to such a high birth that is. One could hardly imagine.¡± And just as suddenly as he arrived, again the man rose as quickly as his joints would allow and began to head away with a slight bow, all before delivering one last line.


    ¡°Oh and, by the by, many might think it quite uncouth for a niece to not recognize one''s own uncle. Let us thank God and more that I might be of the pitying sort. Quite so.¡± There was not even a moment to respond, as he limped off away into the crowded room, evidently content with his victory.


    That man must be the son of the Devil or worse.


    By then, after watching her uncle walk away in silent awe at his complete social incompetency, any thoughts of pain in her feet could no longer be given a second thought. At that moment, more than anything in the world, she wished she could just go to bed. It¡¯s been said that sleep favors the weak, and more than ever before she felt so.


    Rising from her seat, Victoria made a beeline towards the entrance hoping to avoid any more attention after all that. Unfortunately, it was not to be.


    In a party put on exclusively for herself, escaping unnoticed was almost an impossible task; It took not but five steps before her mother took notice, and peeled away from a small crowd of sailor¡¯s wives trading stories, to come confront her daughter.


    ¡°You know¡­¡± She said after catching up, pinching hard into the side of Victoria¡¯s arm without letting anyone else see, ¡°I¡¯ve as little interest myself in these hags as you might with those boys, but no matter what, they all came to see you. So where might you be headed off to?¡±


    ¡°Just look,¡± freeing her arm before gesturing to the tear in the back of her dress, irritated by the unearned pain.


    ¡°I am sure they will all think me a girl of the country if I continue like this. Besides, we¡¯ve been dancing for hours, and now everyone is either drinking, resting, walking, or just leaving. So, if all is well, I¡¯m off to see Meredith to have this fixed. Have you seen her, by any chance?¡±


    ¡°Probably off crying in her room, how should I know? But, well fine. If you¡¯re leaving then I have no reason to stick around either, I suppose. We haven¡¯t enough windows open anyways, and it¡¯s dreadfully hot so I¡¯ll be off for a walk. The air in here is terrible. Would you be sure to meet me outside, before the end of the night? I¡¯ll be off somewhere near the stables if I had to guess. The mares must be having a wonderful time of it in this fair weather.¡±


    The two made their way back to the foyer, arm in arm as gentlemen of all sorts wished the both of them well, ignoring their best attempts to leave quietly.


    ¡°Oh, and one last thing!¡± Her mother said as they made their way towards a dim hallway near a door leading outside, ¡°I saw how well you two were getting along, and one of the finer ladies I was with, quite an influential figure I¡¯m guessing, sought to put in a good word to Mr. Abbott for you. Let me just say, he was beyond delighted! So please, see about finding a chance to speak with John sometime tonight. He may have something important to say, and there are¡­ well, much worse options.¡±


    The thought of her uncle''s graying, fading hairline and pathetic half-limp flashed through Victoria''s mind.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, but let us try not to put the cart before the horse.¡± She laughed, reaching out to open the door she knew her mother would be leaving her from.


    ¡°With a horse this beautiful, they¡¯ll hardly see the cart. Now go, and may God be on your side.¡± And with a kiss on her daughter''s cheek, she left, leaving Victoria alone in a dark corner of the house, music and laughter echoing in from behind.