Black Body

by H C Turk

  This admonishment set the miss to laughing further, but not a smile penetrated my demonic coldness.

  “Much better, miss, with your moderate laughter, for old folks such as myself are enamored with the sound of happy children cavorting about our carriages. And you, sir,” I snapped, turning sharply to Eric. “Was some addressing of your voice toward me not noted recently?”

  “I had inquired, Miss Alba, as to a pleased reaction on your part toward viewing our home to be.”

  “Extreme joy I do predict,” I stated glumly, “in that any cave would be better than this box we’re ever passing time in.” And away in the wheeled armoire we rolled.

  • • •

  To my surprise, it was a cave. To an area of booteries and cutlery stores we traveled (by the dint of God’s grace not crossing the Thames), a locale too businesslike to have the green frontages of Rathel’s ward. Eric had the carriage driver halt before a jewelry store behind whose glass front lay shinies for ladies.

  “Eric, my semi-love, you’ve achieved a display window for our living!” I pronounced.

  “Thanks for your appreciation, miss, and therein might you happily abide. Elsie and I, however, will reside in the tenement above.” And upward he gestured toward the true windows behind which we would live.

  Craning to see this proper glass, Elsie gained renewed delight at even so base a view, oohing and cooing enough to embarrass any decent witch.

  “No need for such rapture, dear,” I told her as Eric aided me from the carriage with no fondling. “No angels are flitting around up there, only flies, and well I recall your dislike for crawlies.” And I made a gesture as though grabbing a bug from the air to pop it between my teeth.

  What a callous person she was to ignore me, her own mistress.

  Eric had entered the sparkly store, exiting after some boisterous laughing by a sinner within, sauntering toward us with a key.

  “Be so bold as to follow me, kind ladies, up the stairs about yon corner,” he advised. And away with a stride of prideful confidence he led his, er, family.

  “Not since he showed me his dog,” I told Elsie, “have I seen him so arrogant.”

  “Your own home, miss,” Elsie whispered, having ignored me again, pressing against me to squeeze both my hands. “I could just weep now, I could.”

  “And you could gain a flogging for it,” I scolded, “for in my household will be no opera and no tears. Since beating I well learned from my current mother, I know it to be proper.”

  That comment, she heard perfectly, Elsie giving me a look to break a display window, releasing me with a huff. So I pinched her ribs sharply enough for her to yelp, as though another spring had been loosed against her fleshy carriage.

  Looking behind, Eric asked, “Are you ill, miss?”

  “I’ll handle the flogging, sir,” I declared. “You be on with your latchworking.” And up the stairs on the building’s outer wall we went, onto a landing and soon through a door.

  Since Elsie was struck with a bout of swooning once in the foyer (which was no more than a corner of the semi-great room beyond), I pushed her firmly within so that I as well could enter. The servant then began a slow dance (more of a waddle), Eric with the same happy pride leading us from the main chamber to the kitchen, the two small sites for sleeping, the troupe finally arriving at a cavelike locale with no windows that Eric referred to as his “study.” Elsie instantaneously noted the two wood stoves, one each in the kitchen and non-great room. Praise God for no fireplace, I murmured. But tidy the household was, with a clean, unworn carpet in each chamber (except the cave), though scarcely enough furnishings for even a small family.

  “And here is the fine view,” Eric concluded, stepping to the small room’s large windows, pulling aside the drapes, which could bear replacement. “From this level can be seen London Towers with fair weather and vision of extreme acuity.”

  Moving to the windows, I looked out where Eric pointed, viewed a moment, thereafter telling him, “Of course, sir, and pigeons are flocking upon the near apse again.”

  Staring out with abject disbelief, Eric squinted and strained and saw nothing as I stood beside stationary Elsie, we women looking around inside, one of us with rapture, the other with even less objectivity; for whereas Elsie found herself in a manse, I found myself in a construction worthy of Marybelle.

  “Eric, dear, is this what is known as a ‘hovel’?” I inquired.

  With semi-uncomfortable laughter, Eric termed the place a ‘flat,’ but Elsie was not so amused.

  “Miss Alba! A most ungrateful person you are to be speaking so of your lovely new home.”

  “But, Elsie, where is the upper floor for you to be haunting like a spirit?”

  “Here it is called a roof,” Eric submitted.

  “And where is the basement for me to hide when Elsie the tormenter has been traipsing about my chamber too long?” I asked the male.

  “Here it is called a display window,” Eric submitted.

  “Then no escape shall I have from this person,” I scowled. “And with only two bedchambers, where does the dog sleep?”

  “Wherever he so chooses, miss,” Eric informed me.

  “Then I will find his unending tongue lapping at my face the sleeping night,” I grumbled. “Ah, better he than the other pet panting and pawing as I dream. At least Elsie has her own room.”

  The servant waddled away, having enough of my unconscionable comedy, gone to pant and paw within her own chamber. Then I was alone with the future husband, who would have my genuine opinion of his manse.

  “I remain uncertain as to interpreting your true attitude toward such an abode,” he told me, “considering your disdain for things richly physical, and your having lived and loved the wilderness. Nevertheless, Lady Amanda’s townhouse is most elegant. But on my salary as a draftsman with my father, naught else can I afford. I know your humor, miss, but how foolish am I to fear your disappointment?”

  “Sir, you fail to understand. I expect this family to shortly move into the deepest wilds and live in a…a tent. I would have said ‘cave,’ but I abhor caves; therefore have your dank study with my blessing. But until we abandon London to live as natural animals, well will I be satisfied here. After all, you’ve made no provision for the Rathel, so why should I complain?”

  “Oh, and well I would embrace you, miss,” he beamed, “if I thought you would not flog me.”

  “If only Randolph were present, you could have at your embracing till your hugging mechanism ached, and be kissing him to your lips’ withering, in that he’s the tongue for it.”

  “Bless you, wife,” Eric muttered as Elsie with renewed pleasure regained the tiny great room.

  We womenfolk proceeded with further examination, the witch especially fascinated by the palest green spider housed on a pantry shelf. Guiding Elsie to this sub-dwelling, I warned the servant severely.

  “Here is a friend to the mistress of this household, and if eradicated by any pet with any quantity of legs, I shall display such distress as to embarrass you before the master.”

  “Ah, with your jesting, you’re tormenting me constant, so how could a bit of embarrassment make me suffer worse? Your very self is the greatest embarrassment in my poor life, when you’ve the mind.” And with a cackle, Elsie sidled away.

  “Bloody witch,” I mumbled to the spider, and it could not disagree.

  Then the cackling and humor ceased, for Eric glimpsed through the window a sight to send him at once to the door, where he made to lock the entry with grave movements and a most concerned smell. But too late, for the door opened as he reached it, and face to face were two men, my upcoming husband and this child’s father.

  How short the latter had become, but this initial thought of mine was only a fantasy. Eric was the one to have grown, and the sinners were now similar in size. And similar in distress as the senior spoke.

  “I would speak with you alone,” Edward stated with no comfort.

  “I am h
ere with my future wife and our chaperone, sir, and will allow you to greet them before our speaking.”

  Edward could have viewed me by turning slightly, but as though he could smell my position, he moved his head not a degree. I remained invisible to him, a spectre who could haunt without being seen.

  “My best to your chaperone, but to the other person I cannot speak, and this you know,” he told his son, whose reply came the next instant.

  “Sir, if you lack the capacity for such a simple courtesy, then you have no place in a gentleman’s abode.”

  “This place is not let by you if you’ve no payment for it. Since from this moment you have no employment with my firm, you’d best return home where you are well loved and cared for. But despair not in your finances, sir, for if you marry her, you will have no need of economics, because dear God knows that Satan will have her kill you!”

  His last words were a shout, and Eric’s reply came as a yelp.

  “And well loved I am by you to condemn my marriage and a lady no less profoundly excellent than any you can imagine!”

  Edward then continued harshly, “With no aid from my imagination, only from the marshal’s office, I have learned that in the town Lucansbludge where this person was imprisoned, a man was murdered in the same, demonic manner as the poor Bitford fellow slaughtered heinously at a time when your fiancée lived in this city.”

  “How repulsive you are, sir, to speak of murder and Miss Alba in the same raving speech.”

  I then began to move, revealing the spectre whom Edward yet ignored, for all his senses were directed toward his son. Between these males was a passion that seemed evil—then between them was their subject. As though an emotional force, I literally intervened in this family, pressing the men away as I looked up to their faces. Before they could continue with their passion, the witch had her say.

  “Here’s a pair that should be switched like cruel children attacking pets. One so in love with fear that he’ll draw his son’s own suffering, the other so in love with an unknown woman as to lose his father. By the grace of God, I curse the devil you form between you, sirs, for above all other responses I gain from this scene is the recollection of my departed mother and the love we shared. That is the creation between parent and child, and if you two destroy your own, more heinous fiends you are than any devil could be.”

  With my speaking, I had viewed them alternately, looking side to side. When Edward finally noticed me and viewed my face, his response was to flee. Sensed in him that instant, however, was not fear, but pain, an emotional creature bequeathed to his son, Eric accepting it for his new family.

  Eric moved into the flat as I closed the door with no force. The master now had nothing to say, rubbing his face as though exhausted beyond sleep, unable to awaken. Appearing switched herself, Elsie looked between future husband and promised wife, and in her searching was the first to find words.

  “Time will help him,” she pleaded, “God in His time will be helping the man to understand.”

  “I believe I’ve heard that notion before,” Eric stated with a deep, fatigued voice, now appearing more distracted than destroyed.

  Intervening again, I stepped between Eric and Elsie, who were separated by the room’s length, but bonded by emotion.

  “Enough with these harsh feelings,” I stated as though a child with her fill of chores. “Let us carouse,” I suggested. “How does one accomplish this? Let us become drunk and beat upon one another, perhaps.” But Eric had not concluded his exhaustion.

  “I am afraid we’ve more harshness to confront,” he told Elsie and me, and I sensed a new remorse in his voice or smell or the squeezing of his hands. “My father has made this threat before, but now I believe it a promise. With this trouble, miss, there might be some delay in our marriage. Other employment I will gain, and have prepared for this release from my current work. But delay there shall be in my accumulating funds. And, and—I’ll not be able to afford Miss Elsie’s services.”

  “But, Master Eric, I would need no—”

  Eric then cried, “I could not afford to feed you, miss!”

  Such a blow were his words that Elsie suffered a near tactile shock, but recovered her poise as though God’s greatest lady.

  “But, but, there’s no concern, now, for Mistress Amanda is yet good to me, and might be turning lonely without more folks inside her home. Especially she’s being fine to me now, for I’m never seeing her so joyed as she is at this marriage.”

  Having again felt too many emotions flung past me, I accepted a lighter air, flitting about Eric and Elsie as though an angel.

  “How painful I am to interrupt this mass of tender feelings, but such is the way of wise people when confronting the innocent. For this false dilemma, I have an evident solution, one named Amanda. So complete a business person is Rathel that a loan might be proffered the new couple until their finances finally be firmly…finished.”

  “Alba, I would be shamed to ask your mistress for a loan of money.”

  “You asked for me permanent, did you not, sir? Am I not of greater value than glossy coins and banknotes? Besides, I expect more of a dowry from the Rathel estate than this single spare servant.”

  As Eric settled into thoughts of a shamed life of begging for pennies to feed his pets day to day, while Elsie was feeling bolstered in that perhaps this tiny home might yet have space for her, I shooed them both out the door.

  “Away we are!” I told the pair. “Lock the door behind us, sir, so that no thieves will steal my spider. Then to the street for passage to the Rathel’s.”

  Gain a carriage and gone, Eric not yet so bankrupt as find only walking affordable. A pleasant journey to the Rathel’s—pleasant if one considers a box full of troubled sinners a joy—and to home again. With my family lagging behind, I leapt from the carriage—one brown, not black—to march posthaste to the front door, which of course was bleeding well locked, thereupon to pound loudly and blare out a demand for entry. Relieved was Delilah to find three semi-friendly faces on her stoop instead of the invading army from Africa she had expected.

  “My dearest mother is in?” I asked while handing Delilah my cloak. “I must see her in desperation,” and into the house I swept as though I owned the place.

  “Well, um, and yes, Miss Alba,” Delilah replied, “but, er, no, she is resting now, and of course you understand.”

  “Of course, I do understand in my cold wisdom that I should not bother you to wake the mistress, for the act shall be my pleasure.”

  Flying up the stairs went I with the most ludicrous of haughty miens, nose and bent wrist poised precisely as I strode to the Rathel’s bedchamber, observing with a glimpse that my army followed, one not of Africa though led by an exotic beast. Against the door I rapped to enter without acknowledgment, having the invading forces wait in the corridor for their leader.

  Reclining on the bed, Rathel lifted one shoulder with a partially conscious elbow, attempting to awaken, attempting to ask, “What? What is…?”

  “Beg pardon, mistress, for this veritable intrusion, but a true emergency has thrown itself upon us.”

  “Alba, what do you speak of?” the Rathel demanded, finally awake and adequately aware.

  “Presently outside your door are Miss Elsie and Master Eric, who shall prove themselves extant with only hallooing, having too much courtesy to be intruding as does your daughter.” Then over my shoulder I called.

  “Outside there, are persons waiting?”

  “’Tis I, mistress,” Elsie squeaked.

  “The best wishes for you, ma’am,” Eric followed with scarcely more certainty.

  Rathel then looked toward me with fierce interest as I continued.

  “We three have come from our lovely abode wherein we shall live once wed. The reason for our flight was Edward Denton’s having come there in distress, unfortunately finding it necessary to dismiss son Eric from the family business. Therefore, in that the husband and I will soon arrive at poverty, no
wedding shall occur because no funds exist for the family to affix their flat as well and legally let. My presumption being that nothing in this world—nor any other you own—would please your kindness more than to see the daughter wed this incomparable, incontrovertible lad, might not you make arrangements for a bit of a loan before we starve?”

  Through all the flurrying words, Rathel most clearly comprehended that the father was so distraught as to have chucked his very son; and expert in emotion was the mistress to conceal her inner gloating.

  “Why, dear Alba, all along I’ve intended to set you well financially. Do you believe the only dowry I would provide you is Miss Elsie?” And, yes, the Rathel laughed—how polite, how ladylike!—and titter along I did. “No difficulties so inconsequential as funds shall interfere when grand love is involved.”

  Then I rejected my silly smile, stepping beside the bed so that only Rathel would hear my words. Seeing my face change, so did hers; and in that moment, she searched me and waited, for much waiting can transpire in a moment that threatens loss.

  “Another thing, mistress, with no humor. I think it best this male and I be wed without extravagant ceremony, for this is a process, and the more we proceed, the more interference shall we find. I suggest that your arrangements be for a simple, immediate ritual. Can you comply?”

  “I can and will, if the boy agrees to such haste and simplicity.”

  “Do your part with the ceremony as I go now for mine.”

  I retained that grave visage upon quitting the chamber. Closing the door behind, I spoke to Elsie.

  “Be relieved, miss, and be comfortable because your future life shall be as pleasant as the near past implied. And since no more traveling will you accomplish today, go about your affairs here while I speak with this male in private.”

  “Oh, and praising Jesus I am, miss, in that I did so much wish to be part of your home.”

  “You know my feelings to be identical, Elsie, and praise God for your sweet nature. Now, off we are for a time, and if I vanish from the grounds, the fault will not be yours.”