by Carolyn Bond
She heard the whistle of a train calling. The chugging of the train’s wheels got louder and soon the train sped past them with a blur. She wished she could have signaled them for help, but really, there was no way. If she hadn’t been injured, she might have been able to leap from the carriage and try to run away. She wondered if he would get his clothes dirty to come after her, but of course he would, she was the golden goose.
***
Malcolm had promised to have her visit today and Percy had chattered non-stop at breakfast. He never got a chance to meet new people so this was a big deal to him. Despite the hurricane-like Kentucky summer thunderstorm, Malcolm was going to head into town. Hopefully the rain would ease before they made the trip back to the house.
His carriage was pulling into town when he saw Mr. Peeble running out of the inn with Everleigh in his arms. His heart lurched at the sight. It appeared as though she was unconscious. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. The distance was too great to catch up to them before Mr. Peeble’s carriage was already heading out the other side of town at full speed. Malcolm followed them.
The pounding rain and booming thunder covered the sound of their pursuit. He was sure Mr. Peeble had no idea he was following them. Unfortunately, Malcolm had brought his smaller carriage made for two people with a roof that extended over them. He didn’t want his driver to be perched up in the front of the regular carriage with this lightening. This carriage wasn’t made for going long distances and wasn’t as fast. He was having trouble keeping up. Outside of town a road had washed out as a creek overflowed and Malcolm’s carriage wheels struggled to keep hold and they had to slow down. He cracked the whip to keep the horses moving forward. They tried to turn and go back the other way.
He made it to the side and the horses pulled the carriage up onto the sloppy road. Mr. Peeble’s carriage was nowhere in sight, but Malcolm knew where they were headed. This was the road straight into Lexington. He plowed ahead hoping to catch up with them further down the road.
Malcolm stared ahead into the gray downpour hoping to see sight of the carriage. His knuckles gripped the reins so tightly his hands turned pale white. He was powerless to make any headway.
***
The carriage pulled and jolted her. She winced at the pain in her side. Mr. Peeble looked at her with a smug grin. The horses’ hooves made a more distinct ‘clop clop’ sound as the cobblestones of Lexington met them. The bumping and swaying of the carriage calmed. She looked out the window and a line of row houses had formed along the road.
Instead of heading straight into town, the carriage turned onto a side road. They stopped in front of a two-story brick home with a slightly unkept lawn. This area looked a bit run down. A sign by the front door announced the owner was a lawyer.
“Don’t move. I will be right back”
He jumped from the carriage, ducking under the steady shower of rain. She watched him climb the steps from the street and head up the brick path to the front door. Puddles of water exploded away from him as he upset them. A man answered the door and Mr. Peeble disappeared inside. She looked both ways out the windows for a place she could hide if she could get out of the carriage. Just as she started to slide from the bench seat, the door opened and she heard voices. She slid back in place.
He must have ran back to the carriage because his head popped in sight surprising her. She scrunched back into the corner refusing to cooperate. He sighed with annoyance and water dripped a steady stream off his shoulders.
“My dear, surely you would not be the cause of your old aunt’s demise. I’m certain she would haunt you. How could you ever be happy again?
A burning fire crept up in her throat that threatened to strangle her. She hated him.
“It’s really quite simple. No need to get bothered. Besides, its making you look frightful.” He paused and then concluding that she was going to be difficult, he jumped into the carriage.
“Look,” he continued, “The honorable Mr. Babbage is a judge and friend of my family. He won’t mind if you are awake or unconscious. It’s up to you.”
He raised his hand to strike her and she flinched.”
“Alright. Alright! Please!”
“Wonderful. I detest unreasonable people.”
He took her by the arm and pulled her to the door of the carriage. He jumped down and helped her out which was hard for her to do with her arms behind her back. Taking her by the arm, she felt like she flew to the doorway with her feet barely making contact with the ground. The man was obviously much stronger than her, propelling her through the air with each step. He led her through the opening.
The parlor was dark, even so, looking down she could make out the puddle of water that creeped out from their feet exploring its new surroundings. Dust covered the surfaces of the tables. She wondered what kind of judge this was that he didn’t have any help to dust his home. A coughing fit ensued in the hallway signaling she was about the meet the honorable judge. How honorable could he be if he agreed to marry a woman to a man against her will? She was shackled, for heaven’s sake! She supposed if he was anything like Mr. Peeble, he didn’t think highly of the rights of women.
“Ah-hem! Now then, here we go,” the round little man said as he came in thumbing through a small leather-bound book.
Mr. Peeble turned to him, turned back at her, and grimaced. He roughly placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her facing forward with him.
“Yes, yes,” the judge continued, “very good. Here we go. Now we can dispense with much of this. So,” he paused looking her up and down. She assumed he was determining if she was actually female. His eyes slid down her chest and lingered. Turning his head slightly at the curve of her hips, he nodded and licked his lips, until his gaze finished with the hem of her skirt. She swallowed back the nauseating feeling of being visually violated. He smiled briefly and nodded at Mr. Peeble, who smirked even more and crossed his arms.
The thought occurred to her, Here she was. The day she’d always dreamed of, her wedding day. She pushed the thought aside like it was a sad child on the first day of school realizing that school was not all that fun like the pretend games. This was most certainly real and she had no way to stop it. Soon she would be legally bound to this jerk. From what Suzanne had told her, after that, she had even less rights than before, as she would technically be the property of Mr. Pebble.
“Wait! Your honor!”
Both of the men’s heads snapped in her direction.
“My darling, what did we talk about in the carriage,” Mr. Peeble warned through his teeth.
She sucked in a breath of strength, “Your honor, I can’t marry this man!”
The judge stammered and looked at Mr. Peeble imploringly.
“You most certainly can. Please continue, your honor. Quickly.”
The judge cleared his throat and began again, “…Gathered here, in front of witne.. I mean, anyway, ah, do you take this man, oh yes, of course,” he never even looked at her. “And you take this woman,” looking up at Mr. Peeble who nodded perfunctorily, “by the power vested in me, pronounce you man and wife. Done.” He slammed the little book closed with a fripping noise like shuffling a deck of cards.
“There we go, Mr. Peeble. I’ll expect a deposit in my account before the close of business today or I will not submit the paperwork. Do we have an understanding?” He tilted his chin in and his forehead forward regarding Mr. Peeble with a serious eye. “”For the full amount. This is, ah, a bit irregular and therefore, ah,” he glanced over her one more time, “I expect to be compensated for my skin in it.”
“Certainly, your honor. Most obliged.” Mr. Peeble put out his hand and the judge just looked at it and suddenly shivered. He nodded back and turned to the front door.
“Now, if you will excuse me.” He held the door open. “May I be the first to offer you congratulations on your marriage and good day?”
Mr. Peeble grabbed her by the elbow and shoved her in front of him out the door. The s
udden twisting of her body sent a sharp stab of pain into her side and she cried out. Neither of the men responded to her pain in any way except that the door slammed behind them with a thud.
Mr. Peeble jerked her along the sidewalk and hastily lifted her back into the carriage. She heard him yell some directions to the driver who had sat in the rain the whole time. By now, the bonnet had come untied and slid down the back of her head. Her hair was a clumped limp mess underneath. Small blond tendrils stuck to the side of her face and she pushed them out of her eyes with her shoulder.
He sat on the other bench looking very preoccupied with his hands together, elbows on knees, fingers up like he was praying. He rested his chin on the points of his fingers and looked out the window as the carriage lurched forward.
Water streamed down the muddy window leaving an ever-changing impressionist scene of blurry row houses. A tear slid from the corner of her eye as panic seized her. Afraid for this unknown aunt, but could she go through with this? Could she allow his cold pale fingers to touch her, to violate her? Despite the age of the body she inhabited, she was no child. She was not a virgin. She knew the mechanics of the act and, since it was her choice, maybe she could endure it to save this woman.
She stole a glance at Mr. Peeble. She realized she could call him Horace now. Bleh! Not much better. What was a nickname for Horace? Ace? Hore? It was so hard for her to tell what he was thinking. He seemed to have no emotion what so ever. He must have felt her stare because he turned to her and stared back.
Her skin started to crawl under the weight of his stare and she looked away.
“I will need to take your hands out of the shackles. People will stare enough because you look horrible.”
He stepped across the space and sat next to her while she turned her back to him to give him access to her hands. She immediately folded her arms around her ribs to protect them.
They turned a corner and stopped in front of a long awning that led to a hotel. She couldn’t see the name of it or hardly even see the building itself as the rain came down in sheets. A bellman ran up with an umbrella and held it up while Horace jumped out. He kept walking and the bellman took her hand and helped her out.
“Any bags, sir?”
“No,” was all he said over his shoulder as he kept walking. She shook out her dress and wondered if she could make a getaway. Again, she realized he still had her in invisible handcuffs. She couldn’t go anywhere as long as this aunt was in danger. He knew it, too, and sauntered on with a smirk. She hated him even more.
The carriage driver snapped the reins and pulled away. She looked back as the carriage turned the corner. It was her only tie to Versailles, to Malcolm, or to Suzanne. She supposed it was going back to town now that the driver had finished his job.
Turning back on the damp carpet that led to the doors like the long red tongue of a snake, she put one foot in front of the other and determined she would get through this. She would persevere until her aunt, Everleigh’s aunt, was safe and then she would file for divorce.
The doorman held the door for her, more of a gentleman than her new husband, and she stepped inside. As she passed through the entry, she caught sight of herself in a tall mirror. She gasped reaching up involuntarily to touch her hair. Like a cat after a bath, she looked a wreck. She wondered what the judge must have thought. Yet, he still looked her up and down like a piece of meat. Pulling off her bonnet, she slicked her hair back off her face and rubbed a smudge of mud off her cheek. Not that she cared what Horace thought, but she didn’t want the patrons of the hotel to stare at her. She fixed the bonnet back in place and tied the ribbons in a bow, albeit a very tired one. There was nothing she could do about her skirt and blouse. Wet, muddy, rumpled. She could have fallen off a cliff and they would look better. What’s worse is that she had no clothes to change into.
She determined that was as good as it was going to get for now and went into the lobby. As she suspected, the hotel guests were in their finery with perfect hair. At least Horace looked not much better than her. A bellhop motioned for them to follow him and they all stepped up the royal red carpet of the sweeping stair case. Everleigh held the handrail tightly to brace herself from the pain in her side and tried not to cry. She wasn’t successful and a tear escaped down her face before she could dash it away.
On the second floor, the bellhop opened a large white painted door with the number eight in gleaming brass in the middle. The men waited for her and after hesitating, she stepped inside. The bellhop held out his hand and Horace looked at him like he must be crazy and pulled the door shut behind him.
The room was gorgeous. She had to admit. From the golden silk curtains to the silver tea service already sitting on the table next to the sofa, this room screamed rich. She was certain even in her own time with the fancy hotels she’s stayed in, none had this kind of opulence. The crown molding gracefully curled around the ceiling in giant acanthus leaves. The large fireplace was couched in a white marble mantle and hearth. She saw a door that lead off to a bedroom of the suite. Her heart lurched and her stomach felt like it might turn inside out.
She heard the delicate babbling sound of tea pouring in a cup and turned to see Horace pouring them tea. He set her cup on the far side of the table away from him and took his to sit in a chair. Dark green velvet covered the chairs and the sofa begging you to smooth your hand across it.
“Have some tea. You look slightly unhinged. We must keep up appearances.”
Her jawed dropped a bit. How could he possibly care about appearances after everything else today?
“I- I need to wash up.” She actually just need to get away from him.
“Yes, good idea. I don’t want to get dirty, you know, when…” he trailed off with a look like he had stepped in something. “Why don’t you take the tea with you?”
She really couldn’t figure him out. At one moment he sort of acted like he cared and the next moment he could break her bones. She crossed the room and took the tea. She did need something to settle her stomach.
Feeling lighter with each step farther away from him, she crossed the bedroom and went into a small powder room that doubled as a closet. A small window that didn’t open let in gray light from the stormy day. The hotel had gas light fixtures that made her feel like she was in the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland as the light flickered. She poured the cold water left in the pitcher into the ceramic basin and put a small piece of folded linen in the water. She watched the shadow creep quickly across the linen as it soaked up the water. She carefully took off her bonnet and set it aside. Picking up the linen cloth, she squeezed out the excess and rubbed her face. Her skin tingled as it dried. She looked at herself in the mirror.
So young! Much too young to have to go through this.
She realized how glad she was that the other Everleigh was gone, wherever she was. This would be so traumatic for her. She would be so frightened. She was afraid, there was no denying that. However, it was not the kind a fear a young girl would have. She knew what to expect. She just had to bear through it.
She pulled the loose pins from her hair and looked around for a brush. Nothing. They had no luggage. She certainly had not planned to take a trip. He had flung her, unconscious, into a carriage. Apparently, luggage wasn’t on his mind either.
She ran her fingers through her hair as best she could. She was about to put it back up in the pins and then decided that was wasted effort. She wondered how long the consummation would last. Maybe it would be quick. That would be preferable because she was hungry. Unfortunately the thought of lying down with him made her stomach lurch and the hunger turned into nausea.
The gentle rapping on the door made her jump. She figured he would at least give her a minute. A woman’s voice made her eyes go wide.
“Mrs. Peeble?”
What? Who? She thought. Then reality caught up with her. Make me gag!
“Oh. Yes?” she answered.
“The desk said you may need a few things, so I b
rought you some toiletries. May I come in?”
“Yes, please do.”
A maid in a black work dress and apron came in with a small woven basket filled with necessities.
“Thank you. That’s really nice.”
“Your husband said you’d had quite an ordeal losing your trunks in the storm. If you need anything at all, just call the desk. There is a store nearby with ready-made clothes and a seamstress that works very fast.”
The maid set out some fresh linen towels, a comb, a brush, two toothbrushes, some baking soda in a jar, some scented water, and a small bar of soap. Then she curtsied and left with her basket closing the door behind her.
Everleigh was so grateful for the toiletries she smiled as she picked them up to examine them. It was like going through items from a museum. The labels had scrolling cursive script. She held the soap to her nose. It smelled like roses. Without thinking, her hand went to the place in her stocking where she had her magic soap hidden.
She entertained the thought of taking a bath right now. She could call the maid to the bring water. In no time at all she could be over a hundred years away. Horace would be long since dead and rotting in a grave. Her heart fell as she realized so would Malcolm.
NO! She couldn’t bear that. She had to get through this and get back to him. As tempting as escape was, the aunt would still be in danger and she might never see Malcolm again. She would love to see her mom again, though. She couldn’t let herself dwell on what must be happening in the future. Logic told her the future hadn’t happened yet, so it should be frozen still.
She brushed out her hair and decided this was it. It was time to get this over with. Steeling her resolve, she looked in the mirror and saw a strength that she had not seen in the reflection before. Her strength. Thirty-five years’ worth of making her way in the world, dealing with a demanding supervisor, taking care of herself, learning to guard her heart, showing compassion for those more vulnerable than she was. Everleigh of 1888 had the beauty to free her from her fears and Everleigh of 2016 had the heart and strength to see her through anything.