Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  The sea of sparkling humans hushed and parted like the Red Sea as the Count approached her.

  At last, he stood before her. Lady Richard looked up at him evenly. They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.

  The people around the ballroom scarcely breathed.

  At last, he sank to his knees and bowed deeply before her.

  She looked quite taken aback.

  Even so, the Count said in his rich, deep baritone: "My lady, I have searched far and long just for the hope of gaining even a glimpse of your aquaintence. It was you who saved my life as I lay dying on the beach, and thus it is my life that is pledged to yours. How long have I toiled just to be in your presence, and how much longer I will toil still just for a glimpse of your favor. Just agreeing to meet me here today... You could never begin to fathom how much happiness you have brought me."

  As he kissed her hand, the little mermaid felt as though her heart might break.

  The little mermaid was absolutely miserable now that the Count was reunited with the church girl. By all rights, she should be happy for him since he found the girl of his dreams. Since she wanted to be that girl, she was quite jealous and miserable.

  William remained inside for the next few weeks while her leg healed. She was in terrible pain after having to sit in a long carriage ride and then walk to and stand all night at the ball to meet with the Church Girl in the first place. Even Walter, who never said a cross word to her master, asked why he felt the need to drag her about when he knew her leg was injured before they even left for London?

  "The doctor was a hack," the Count dismissed.

  "Be that as it may, a sprain is still a sprain," Walter said. "She needs rest, and sleep, and to keep her leg elevated until the sprain completely heals."

  "She is much stronger than any of you chivalrous gentlemen give her credit for," the Count said.

  "Indeed sir, but she is also a living, breathing young lady," Walter said, "Who feels pain even if she does not have a voice to speak of it."

  The Count was taken aback, and eased up on William from then on.

  Later that night, as William lay in bed with her leg hurting, the Count walked in as silent as a shadow. To William' pain-hazed eyes, he seemed to morph in from the shadows, dark and mysterious. He then sat down at the edge of her bed, with his back toward her, his face inclined to look at her from profile.

  "And how do you fair this evening, my little foundling?"

  She smiled on hearing him, and tried to sit up to greet him, but he pressed her back down with the tips of his fingers.

  "Shh, rest now. I know you are far more injured than you care to let on," he paused. "I shall call a doctor later tonight to have another look at you, to see if there are any other injuries that quack overlooked."

  Notice the Count did not admit his own personal shortcoming in assessing William' last injury. He had been in such a hurry to get to London to see Lady Richard that he assumed William was fit to travel, instead of taking the time to see what shape she was truly in and how ready she was to travel, stand, and walk again.

  "In the mean time," he continued, "I will have Walter bring your meals up here in bed. You are to rest for now."

  William tried to protest in her silent way, but he gently ran a finger down the side of her face, effectively silencing her.

  "You must recover quickly, my dear," he grinned. "So that you may join me for the social season."

  William was a little disappointed, but nodded.

  As it turns out, the "quack" had been correct in his second prognosis. Her leg was indeed broken, and she needed to keep her weight off it. It was a small break, so on the first look the doctor had been hesitant to diagnose it as such because he coudn't imagine what a gentle little lady such as herself would be doing to cause a snap. After he learned she had fallen off a horse, the break seemed more likely. Of course, by that point the Count assumed his first diagnosis was the correct one, and sent him away and treated William' injury as a minor sprain without another thought.

  Walking on it had only made her condition worse.

  It never seemed to occur to the Count that no matter how severe her injury, William' leg was still injured and she needed to treat it with care. It never seemed to occur to him that just because William bore the pain bravely didn't mean she wasn't in pain at all.

  While William could never bear to hear anyone say anything bad about her master, she rather had to agree with Walter. She would walk to the ends of the earth for her master; jump into the laviethan's jaws, run through the Gates of Hell, and even treaded on a road of knives if she had to... but she didn't want him to want her to do it. William couldn't articulate it, even to herself, but while she felt willing to do anything for a man she loved, she felt a man worth loving would never ask her to do it.

  Regardless, William was thrilled to have her master come to her room to talk to her again. He came in to look at her every morning before he went out to town, and came to sit and talk to her every evening after he had returned.

  Her room was still rather poorly lit, with little gas lamps on either side of her door, so seeing her beautiful dark master among the dark shadows, of black and orange and dark red from the colors on the wall, was very lovely indeed.

  However, her master never stayed with her long. Whether William was able to accompany him or not, he was to enjoy the social season of London, and enjoy he did. It seemed every morning he would go out for some sort of walk, invitation to tea, luncheon, invitation to the ballet (whatever that was), dinner party, charity even ball...

  Though she knew she couldn't leave bed, William felt a little hurt that her master no longer wanted her by his side every moment of every day. Nor that he was patient enough to stay by her side longer than a few minutes. Once, he could barely sit through one of her riding lessons before he ordered her back at his side. Once, he could not wait for lessons with her governess to be over and would settle in a nearby chair to read while she taught William the three R's, over her protests.

  Once, He wanted her to join him for ever meal, every excursion, every walk about the gardens, every ride around the woods, and so on. He wanted her to join him in the parlor while he read books and wrote letters, and join him as he drank wine and gazed at the moon from the balcony. Walter even said the Count set up the tea room and started drinking tea every day just for her, after she came to them.

  Now, William was lucky to see her master longer than the time it took him to describe his day.

  He was too busy courting the church girl to pay her any mind.

  Her master seemed to think of no one else. He certainly talked of no one else. The weeks of agitation and restlessness they had all endured leading up to their ride at the Lakeside were now replaced with enthused contentment. Her master seemed content in such a way one is when they're pleased with where they are and where they are going in life, when he wasn't also eagerly making plans or heading to his next outing.

  Every moment the Count could schedule to meet with Lady Richard, he did with gusto. He sent her letters and telegrams by the hour. He learned where she was to be and tried to arrange permission from her and possibly her guardians to meet her there. He invited her out to dine, luncheon, and tea. He made connections with those in her social circle and got invited to balls and parties they threw, so as to gain good favor with them and eventually be present to events she was to attend.

  She knew what he was doing, too. The servants gossiped endlessly on it, which William eagerly listened because she had nothing else to do as she lay in bed.

  "... So she says to him, she says:

  'My father has warned me of gentlemen like you.'

  'Like what, my lady?' he asks."

  "Good accents!"

  "Thank you! So she says:

  'The kind that pursue a lover's heart as though it were a hare. It is the chasing you enjoy, more than the catching. Once the hunt is over and you have caught me, what then?'"

  "She said that?! So s
he knows of master's reputation!"

  "Indeed, she said it's the first thing her grandfather warned her about, the moment he first tried to contact her. It's also why she didn't respond to his letters for several months, to see if he was quite serious."

  "Mercy!"

  "You don't say!"

  "She's a smart girl," said Gretchan, "I mean, really, he turns up nearly drowned on her beach, becomes taken with her as she's the girl to find him and rescue him, spends only one afternoon with her as the sisters get him the help he needs, then he declares his undying love for her and sends letter after letter assuring her she is his heart's content?"

  "And right after he jumped from one deep love to another," added Maudy.

  "And right when he had, in fact, been had been pursuing some other woman - a married woman, no less - by ship which caused him to be drowned in the first place."

  "Indeed!"

  William knitted her eyebrows in confusion. Jumped from one love to another? Pursued another woman on that ship? Married - Oh! Now she remembered! William remembered when Captain Bernadotte had weakly protested the Count pursuing that woman who had been married, and the Count had said how she had gotten engaged before meeting him and likely only thought it her duty to stay in a loveless marriage over a more suitable one.

  William had forgotten the Count had fancied another woman. It was his beautiful words about the love of a woman changing his entire world, and a woman's character over her appearance being what mattered to him.

  "Well, what did he say? How did he react?" Maudy pleaded.

  Oh, right. Her master's current devotion to some other woman, William thought miserably.

  "Oh, right," Gretchen cleared her throat. "So, she says all that, then he says to her, he says: 'It's quite simple, my lady. Once I have captured your heart - if you could indeed call it a capture, for I know your heart belongs only to you, and whom you choose to lend it to, and how easily you can take it back... I would spend the rest of my life striving to bring you happiness."

  William felt her heart stabbed by jealousy.

  The maids felt pierced by a different weapon; Cupid's arrow, perhaps?

  "Oh!" they swooned.

  "How romantic!"

  "If he truly means it."

  "Gretchen!"

  "I'm sure I'm not the only one here who thinks he sounds like he's only saying what she wants to hear..."

  William couldn't listen anymore. She had always hoped the courtship was going poorly, despite how adamantly her master recollected every encounter, but now that she heard from someone besides her master of his interactions with Lady Richard, it seemed like just another nail in the coffin.

  'Then again,' William thought miserably, 'She doesn't seem like she believes him, so maybe she'll reject him so I have a chance...?'

  She was torn between feeling scorn for the woman for not feeling adequately grateful for the devotion her master was showing her, as William would have died of happiness on the spot if her master had said such things to her... and being glad the girl wasn't biting as it meant there was still a chance for her.

  While William loved her master and wanted him to be happy... she also wanted him to be happy with her, darn it! They had wonderful times, why couldn't they go back to enjoying that? William felt terrible to think of the broken heart he would feel if the church girl rejected him, or even chose another (William' heart floated at the thought), but... given time, he would grieve, slowly recover, turn to William for comfort, realize how much more loyal and devoted and happy she could make him...

  Maybe after an appropriate time of grieving, he would confide his feelings of grief and loneliness to William as he had done on that night on the balcony under the full moon, and slowly look up into her eyes and see the love, devotion, and understanding he claimed he had adored in the first place, then realized how much more she loved him than she ever could, then they could live happily together forever...

  "My little foundling, you will never guess the good news!" her master exclaimed excitedly when he rushed into her room.

  William' heart froze. Oh no, please don't let it be something bad.

  "I went to see Lady King today, and she allowed me to hold her hand!"

  WHAT?! This was the big news?! The woman he had been chasing amost single-mindedly for weeks, who barely seemed to like him or allow him to reach a deeper aquaintenceship besides "just another man to make small talk with at the periphery of her social circle" allowed him to hold her hand, and this was enough to ring the bell and pass out punch to the servants?!

  William thought with sickly miserable jealousy that if he had put a fraction as much effort into being around her, they should never have parted even to use the privvy!

  Yuck, William thought.

  Regardless, her master was overjoyed to be around Lady Richard. He was a changed man. He was as courteous as he was driven, passionate, and amorous. His devotion to her was unmistakable, even to those outside their social circles. He did not even seem to mind being surrounded by people all the time, as London was full to bursting with people (sometimes hanging out of every window), nor did he even seem to mind making small talk with men she knew he thought were fools.

  As previously stated, her master could be very charming when he wished to be, but before the Season he never seemed to find a reason. So far, he had only really been charming toward William, and so she had believed she as special. Now, he seemed to have quite forgotten about her and acted charming and engaging with anyone, so long as it meant he could later get an audience with Lady Richard.

  Of course, that was only to their faces. When the Count came to see William at the end of every day, he complained of how insufferably idiotic most of the London elite were. How drab and dull, how self-centered and self-involved, how petty and insignificant. He complained of all the idiotic conversations he had to suffer through, how many fools he had to feign politeness for, how many events he did not wish to attend just for the sake of the woman he loved.

  "If only you could accompany me into society, as I had originally planned," he said, "These events would be far more tolerable."

  William then felt, like a stab to the stomach with cold iron, that he had only wanted her to accompany him into society not because he enjoyed her company, but because he found her more tolerable than everyone else.

  He never wanted to bring her into society to enjoy her company, but to use her to make the pursuit of the girl he really wanted much more bearable.

  Once, while he was talking, William got so mad she flung herself away from him, lay on her pillow with her head turned away and her arms crossed, and ignored him as he spoke.

  "What's the matter?" he asked by the time he realized she wasn't paying attention.

  She ignored him, determined to make him try to get her attention as he did with that Lady King.

  It should be noted that, at this time in the courtship, William was only 16.

  Instead, he eventually gave up and went away.

  William was devastated. He didn't even try to get her to look at him! He would chase that girl all up and down London for weeks on end, but he wouldn't take a few extra moments to try to get her to look at him.

  'I see what I meant to you,' she thought miserably, and wept bitter tears all night long.

  This was hard to do because she had to flip around on her stomach to cry easily, which just hurt her leg far more, which just made her cry harder.

  This realization hurt William very deeply, and she fell into a deep depression.

  Once, William had a strong zest for life. She loved to eat, drink, run, play, and explore all that the surface had to offer. Now, she was pale and sick with jealousy. It infected her like a poison and left her pasty, clammy, and sickly. She had little energy, and no longer cared to exert it.

  She hated London; hated the London elite, the London pollution, the London house; the London everything. She wanted to go home, back to her master's castle by the sea; where the air was fresh and salt
y, the sounds were birds singing and waves crashing, and the view was lovely sea and greenery for miles and miles around. When she shared her desire though, she was made accutely aware that if she went back, she would go back alone. Her master was in London to pursue Lady Richard, and London he would stay.

  This only made William even more miserable. Stuck in a city she hated, breathing air she couldn't stand, hearing terrible ruckus outside her window all hours of the day; unable to stand or walk without pain, unable to leave her horrible little room, unable to keep her master's attention; her pain felt worse and she seemed to waste away.

  William wished she could make them understand she meant it when she wrote, "I'm not hungry."

  Once, her governess had to fight to keep her plate from emptying too fast, or piling up with too many desserts. Now, the servants had to beg, cajole, and wheedle to get William to touch anything on her plate. She pecked at her food, took small bites of a few things (a green bean here, a spoonful of broth there), but she no longer had any appetite. She once ate every meal in the dining hall with her master, who showered her with attention and affection, and now she ate in bed, alone.

  She thought, what's the point of eating anything? I'm not going anywhere.

  She also realized the food they gave her was for humans, and she was not human.

  She looked human, she tried to act human, but it seemed to hit her she was not human. She never was. She only pretended to be to try to win the man she loved. She used to sit with him at every meal and eat everything he ordered because she wanted to be with him, like a wife with her husband. Now he no longer cared to sit or eat with unless he had nothing better to do, and she suddenly felt so stupid. She had pretended to be human for him and now he didn't even care for her, so why bother?

  One afternoon, as she lay in bed staring miserably out the window, she heard a knock at the door. She turned her head to see Captain Bernadotte burst through carrying a large silver tray, grinning and dancing around, singing cavalry music. "Duh-duh-dah-dah! Duh-duh-dah-dah! Dah-dah-dah-dah!"

  He then spun around on his heels and placed the tray over her lap. "For you, Mademoiselle!"