~
The very next day, laying flat in her bed with the sense of Ascelin’s indifference cutting a hole through her will, she heard of the engagement. Mrs. Abney was brave enough to inform her of the engagement of Ascelin to Miss Katherine Foley. It had happened yesterday, and the whole town was talking of it. At the sound of the words, her head felt unbearably hot, as if holding something it wasn’t structured to keep in. Her mouth dropped open and she gasped repeatedly, as if stuck between pushing out words and pulling in essential air. The knowledge was too much for her, like a strain of poison too powerful for the soft biology of the body. She moaned in pain so deep that Mrs. Abney, after an initial moment of dutiful attendance, fled the room like a spooked animal. In truth, she alarmed herself, for she moaned like a savage, clutching her head and trying to shake the words out, agonized tears pouring down all the while. Every muscle in her face contorted. She was innocent. She was innocent. She hadn’t betrayed him. Why would he not believe her? How could he do this? How could he turn away? How could a man like him marry one such as Miss Foley? What madness had inspired such a shallow, fruitless engagement?
She gasped and cried out there in her room, her face a mess of hot, damp skin. Her muscles strained to the point that her head ached most painfully. And when she tried to stand, she simply crumpled over onto the floor, her stomach pained with grief as her limbs trembled uncontrollably. Several times she raised up, only to crumple once more; for finding strength was pointless. She was ever brought back to the same conclusions by her mind and heart.
The engagement party took place soon after at the Foley’s residence, which Maryone watched from the dark confines of her room. With her lights extinguished, she could see the stream of guests pour into the Foley’s home, and the bright, cheery lights burning festively through their windows. She watched in a nearly catatonic state, pangs of misery cutting her. In her heart and mind she reached out for him, but couldn’t feel him reaching back; and at this absence, the universe felt bereft of all light.
She sat watching all night, trying to feel him, but never able to. But then, just after midnight, a form walked out the front door of the Foley’s residence. It stood in dark silhouette upon the step, lit only by the spark of an ember. As it moved into the light of the street lamps, she saw that it was Ascelin himself, and a quivering shock ran through her at this recognition. She watched intently, and after a moment, he looked directly up at her window, and the sense of his focussed mind rushed through her. She could feel his heart, his love and longing rush over her like so much vital air for breathing. All the things that her mind had begun slowly to doubt, that lay deep within the sleeping core of her heart - his love for her, all that’d seemed buried these past weeks - returned in a moment, as if carried on a wind. It was as if her chest was once again filled with air for breathing, that her vital energies had replenished in a moment, and her heart had resumed beating for the first time in weeks. She stood reeling beneath this influence, gasping relief as tears rolled down her cheeks, as his silhouette looked silently up at her window, then turned back into the house; at which time, the sensations ceased. Though the experience brought her elation and vindication of all her heart knew but her mind strove to doubt, her hollow grief returned at it’s cessation. For the reminder of him, of what she’d lost, only increased the searing torment created by his absence.
She spent the rest of the night torn between the comfort of knowing that it was she that he truly loved, for she had felt it most clearly; and the torment of knowing that he was promised to another. It was a small comfort to think that, amidst all that the Foleys had to offer him as in-laws, beneath the skin, he longed for her; but it was a comfort nonetheless. She struggled with allowing her mind to indulge in it, for though she knew it was true, it didn’t serve her to continually long for one who belonged to another.
~
The following day, she received a surprise visitor. She ventured downstairs, dressed rather smartly and feeling surprisingly hopeful after her short interlude with Ascelin the night before, and saw a quivering Lady Foley perched in her sitting room. The maid was barely able to announce her ladyship before she stood and acknowledged Maryone’s presence.
“Please,” she said smugly, as if offering Maryone a seat in her own home, “I require a word with you, Miss Gurza.”
The woman’s manner was snobbish and quite strange considering she was in another woman’s sitting room, but Maryone obliged. She was rather eager to learn what could be so important as to bring the woman here so early, and on the morning after hosting a grand gathering in her own home. Maryone settled herself calmly on a chaise, taking advantage of the tea brought to her there.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, referring to the refreshments.
“Of course not,” barked Lady Foley.
She was obviously sensible of the social disadvantage Maryone was at around town, and was of a mind to offer her no hand of compassion or friendship. But Maryone prepared her tea circumspectly, as she always did; her chin high and spirits surprisingly calm and strong.
“To what do I owe the honor of your ladyship’s visit on this early morning?”
“I am come,” she said, her voice venomous, “Though I know you hold little stock in the calls of duty or honor, to insist upon your staying away from my daughter’s betrothed.”
Maryone remained calm, her expression static; though her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. It amused her that Lady Foley had spoken thus, for it only confirmed any influence she might have in the situation, or over Ascelin’s affections.
“Pardon?” she asked innocently.
At this, the usually-shy and soft spoken Lady Foley turned into someone Maryone didn’t recognize. Her expression turned devious and hateful, her eyes glaring venom from deep within. Maryone watched in shock as a monster emerged into the light.
“Miss Gurza,” she said, her voice derisive as she pronounced each syllable carefully, “I shall make no mystery of the fact that I dislike you - most heartily. You have no friends, none to come to your aid, not in society... nor otherwise. In fact, it would do you good to leave London, and go back to the country to reside. I hear the locals are quite fond of you there.”
Maryone was shocked to silence, listening as the poison rolled off the woman’s tongue. As Lady Foley leaned forward, a necklace with a strange symbol pendant hung forward around her neck.
“He does not want you,” Lady Foley continued, “Do not concern yourself with why or how this came to be, only understand that it shall stay this way... forever.” Her eyes burned fiery hatred at Maryone. “Do not meddle in the affairs of my family. He is one of us now, and doesn’t need you. If you make any further attempt to contact him, I shall make sure you are shunned from every door in town, respectable and low alike.”
The pastry Maryone had been holding lightly in her fingertips dropped to her lap with a thump, landing on a napkin.
“How dare you threaten me,” Maryone whispered in shock.
“Like you not the shunning I have already achieved for you?” asked Lady Foley, her brow cocked and her presence growing ever bolder as she leaned forward upon Maryone’s furniture. “It is but a taste of what could be. I move in the highest circles, Miss Gurza, and my husband has the ear of the King. Likely, I could have you imprisoned as a wanton woman and a witch if I truly desired. The public outcry against you grows stronger. Soon, you shall have nowhere to hide, and not even finery shall hide the blackness of your character.”
Maryone jumped to her feet at this, her tea forgotten. But a dizzy fear entered her heart, and she felt a strange coldness fall upon the room. Something was here with them, something unnatural. Looking into the woman’s cold eyes, she realized what it was.
“You,” she whispered. “He warned me of you. It was you he spoke of at my engagement party. You’ve put some sort of spell on him!”
Lady Foley squinted confusedly at her, her mouth cocking sardonically, but Maryone saw the demon in her eye
s.
“As you say, Miss Gurza,” she answered sarcastically. “And he shall never be released from it. Not while you live.”
A shuddering fear came over Maryone, for she knew the woman’s threats were real. She could be imprisoned if there was enough pressure, the events in the village were enough to convince her of man’s barbarism and ignorance. And she was just the type to be sacrificed - rich and conspicuous, but without powerful friends or family to protect her. The hope she’d regained last night came crashing down around her. She had no knowledge of how to stand against such influential figures as the Foleys, not alone and inexperienced as she was.
“Enough!” she exclaimed, outraged. “Begone from my house! I shall not tolerate such speeches from any person, especially not you!”
At this, several maids and a footman plunged into the room, alarmed at their mistress’ noise. They watched the altercation with eyes wide, likely deriving equal amusement and alarm from the interchange.
As Maryone pondered the agony she’d endured at the hands of this scheming, malicious woman, her temper flared hot. She felt a glare forming behind her eyes. Lady Foley stood slowly, her look just as fiery.
“I shall not be spoken to thus,” said Lady Foley, “Not by a common hussy witch like you!”
At hearing these words, Maryone screamed, and her anger flared so hot that every glass item in the room shattered, and Lady Foley’s dress was ripped down the back. The woman turned to survey it in awe, then looked back at Maryone. A look of terror distorted her face, as if she’d purchased something without counting the cost. Understanding filled her eyes and she sidled towards the door.
“What did you do?” Maryone growled at her, mirroring her steps. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
“What’s done is done,” she answered, her voice shaking. “You cannot change it now, not with all your devil’s craft.”
At this, Maryone roared in anger, and lady Foley and the servants screamed in fear.
“Damn you!” Maryone yelled. “May you and your whole bastard lot be consumed in hellfire!”
Lady Foley gasped, as did several of the onlooking servants, for the curse crackled on the air like a powerful wind. The woman said nothing more, only turned and fled the house with swift steps.
~
That evening, Maryone was awoken from a nap by a great, curdling screech. She’d fallen asleep sitting at her writing desk, head resting on her hands. After rushing down the main stairwell, she found that the screech had come from one of the maids who, after hearing a great thump on the front door, opened it to find a severed pig’s head laying upon the stoop; and upon the door, the word “WITCH” had been scratched in blood.
The event made her feel numb, hopeless and alone. She felt she was facing opposition that she hadn’t the resources to vanquish alone. And a vast sense of emptiness had filled her since her earlier conversation with Lady Foley, one that infused her being with a strange hum. It seemed she couldn’t feel any more alone, any lower, or any more pain, longing or misery over Ascelin; it didn’t seem possible. She was drained. She moved through the house like the a ghost, a damned woman over whom a sentence had been cast. Walking out onto the veranda, she looked across the dark street at the Foley’s residence. Thinking of Lady Foley and all the woman had done to sabotage her happiness, when she’d done no harm to the woman, filled her with a hatred so intense it burned deeply from within; a searing fire kindling rage. She’d stolen the only thing in the world that Maryone wanted, and cared nothing for the agony she’d caused. The thought of it made Maryone’s limbs shake and set her teeth to grinding.
She watched the warm windows, knowing that within the inhabitants enjoyed comfort, companionship and prosperity, and ignorance of the misery so near to them; and it seemed too unjust to bear. Her whole body shuddered, but this time she made no effort to stop it - the tremor within, the storm that could unleash terrible damage, that she had always striven to hold back. For she felt no pity for the Foleys, nor for the race that had condemned her. So she allowed her anger to burn hot, to fill her, and to release in a single moment. In the skies above, a vortex had formed in the clouds, one that seemed to contain brimstone, burning and swirling as in a furnace. In a moment, a great, thick bolt cracked down from the sky and hit the silhouetted block across the street. It struck hard and sure, consuming slender chimneys and roaring like a wild animal as it’s light bounced from roof to roof. In a moment, the whole block was ablaze. The flames spread quickly, engulfing all.
Maryone knew that she, of her own will, had caused this catastrophe. Feelings hovered before her fluttering vision in a strange, numb dance; flickering in the orange firelight. In her dreaming haze, she wavered between their subtle impressions; that of reveling in her revenge and of pitying the victims she knew would be created by such a blaze; between the impulse to do something to save the block’s inhabitants, of being overwhelmed to awe at the spectacle before her, and of her own power. The fire was already so great, it had enveloped the block, the orange light dancing brightly in her weary, red eyes. She knew that if she were to run out into the street, she could do nothing to help. It was fruitless now. The buildings were nearly consumed already, their windows burning bright, piling ash onto the mountain of shame in her heart. She hated herself for it, but she merely stood and watched as the buildings burned, lighting up the night.
~
It didn’t take long for the harassment to start, nor for the mob to come. Graffiti on her home, stones and other horrors thrown through her windows became a common occurrence. After the fire, with the lives it’d claimed, the city erupted in anger and fear; and most of it was pointed at her. All knew of the scandal between her and the Foleys, and of the enraged curse she’d lain upon them in her own home. And with their family now lying dead after suffering such a fate, an event like this was enough to raise her to demonic status in the eyes of the masses, as well as local governing bodies. An outcry for vengeance hung thick in the air, and soon they would be coming for her life; she knew it.
The thought of the Foley’s death didn’t bother her much, though she felt guilty admitting this to herself. But when she read the list of all the others killed - families with children, innocent servants - she felt a worthlessness wash over her that was too powerful to combat. She’d gotten her revenge, stopped those who wished to harm her, but at what cost? All the world despised her. And so must Ascelin.
Over the following week, more than half of her staff went missing. They ran off, either afraid of their mistress, or afraid of being damned along with her. Only the bravest stayed, but they were few, and had known her for such a short time that they could feel no real love for her, nor she for them. She was truly alone in the world, and she knew it. The attacks on her home got worse and more frequent. Before long, it became clear that she had no choice but to escape back to the loneliness and isolation of the country. She hadn’t the strength or desire to face a new beginning in some strange place. No matter how convenient it would be to change it, her mind and heart still belonged to Ascelin, and she didn’t want to disappear somewhere where he couldn’t find her.
After receiving several death threats - some painted across her door, some in writing - she packed her things and fled the city, riding through dark and silent forests, the isolation of the country taking her over all too soon, wrapping around her mind like a familiar enemy. She’d wished to hold on to the bustle of the city and the general sense of company that it provided, but the feeling left her all too soon, and she was imprisoned in her thoughts once more. The same dull hum had come over them that’d inhabited her mind in those silent, desperate weeks following the engagement celebration that’d made it so difficult to breathe.
The house looked cold and dark out her window as the carriage drew into the courtyard. In the doorway, the sad old Mr. Bates held a lamp, lighting the otherwise dark hall. He informed her that only he and Mrs. Bates remained, for they had no family, and nowhere else to go; but that the maids had been harassed by
their families to leave her service, for they believed her and the house to be in league with the devil. But Bates’ were of a more sensible stock, he informed her. And according to him, the villagers had quieted down about the event, for they’d heard of her departure to the city and been satisfied that she was gone.
The house was dusty and neglected within, cold, dark and lonely. She spent the remainder of the day in solitude, her thoughts disquieted. For though she’d only just arrived, she felt anxious to leave. She was not contented here and knew she couldn’t be. She didn’t know how she could spend another day, let alone weeks, months or years here. But she reminded herself that she had few options otherwise. It was too dangerous to travel abroad when she had no friends and so many enemies.
Despite all the distractions and attempts to be sensible, her every thought was of Ascelin. No matter what came along, thoughts of him were an underlying current, a constant wave flowing at the base of her mind. He was never forgotten, though she wished at times that he could be, for she knew that now her life must be a farce, a shade of what it could’ve been.
In the following days, Bates brought word that the villagers had seen her carriage on the road and were riled over her arrival. And apparently, an infamous witch finder had taken up residence in the village, one with a mind to “scour the countryside for the unholy.” She knew her doom was upon her then, it could not be escaped.
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