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-VI-
The doctor collected her after her bath, stealing a kiss before he escorted her to the dining hall. Annie was easily found, and it was joyous to watch the other girl’s face light up when Valentine waved to her. August loosed his woman to her meal and watched with glad heart to see how easily she made friends. As the pair chose their spot and waited to be served, Blackmore chose his seat close to the men and began to hear their latest scraps of news. The young women settled in for their afternoon.
“You look quite well today, Annie! I hope you didn’t miss me terribly at breakfast. Doctor Blackmore came and woke me to begin his notes, and he brought me a meal.” Valentine was genuinely apologetic, but oh, she hoped she wasn’t blushing! Annie shook her head, smiling.
“It was alright,” she said. “I sat with some of the other London gels and we chatted very nicely about our favourite things to do in the city,” the young miss said, her cheeks rosy and her manner happy but still a bit shy. “It was sor’ of brave for me, and I’m glad I did it.” A boy came to take their orders, and soon moved off for more. Valentine leaned on her arm to study her companion.
“Are they friends of yours?” she asked. Annie squirmed.
“Not really… I ‘aven’t really made any friends ‘ere. I feel like I’m not one of them all!” The seamstress’ hand waved in the air, covering the grand room before her. “Everyone’s so nobby and I’m just some street gel who got lucky.”
Valentine grinned. Her ensuing snicker caused Annie to look up, confused.
“Not laughing at you, sweet.” The woman soothed. “It’s just that I’m worth quite a lot of money, and I don’t care a damn bit about it. I might be the ‘nobbiest’ one here, actually, next to any secret royalty milling about.” The little blonde gasped. “Yet, here we are.”
“I supposed I should ‘ave felt the same way,” Annie mumbled, blushing, “but you don’t act like any of these other gels. And, might I add, you approached me.”
“Very true,” Valentine mused. “I have nothing but contempt for the wealthy sphere in which I dwelt, and I came to you because I wanted to eradicate the pain I saw in your expression.”
“Was it so obvious?” Annie asked meekly.
“I am… unusually perceptive.” The buxom told her. “Don’t punish yourself for your emotions, my friend. They are yours. They are real and important.” The seamstress stilled.
“No one’s… ever said tha’ to me before…” the young one marvelled. She cocked her head to one side, wrinkling her nose endearingly. “Me da never listens, and the bitty ones look up to me, so ‘ow can I tell them? Doctor Connelly tries, bless ‘im, but he acts as though the only thing keeping me sad is… me.”
“What do you think it is, Annie?” Valentine queried gently.
“Never ‘aving any time to meself, not bein’ allowed to see my friends in London, and not bein’ listened to, really listened to. I’m the one who ‘as to be proper, and work, and never think about much else but the ‘good of the family’. That’s what started it all.” Reflexively, the seamstress clutched her arm, her expression distant. Valentine noted that her sleeves were so long they fell over her wrists.
“I understand completely,” the brazen woman said. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your happiness and individuality for your family. I know Society can be stuffy and judgmental, but is it worth turning your back on what you love? Or who you love?”
“Well I don’t bloody think so,” replied her companion, hotly.
“It’s an issue I have with the spheres of wealth and influence,” Valentine posited. “You must adhere to their rigid propriety for status, at the cost of happiness and personal freedom. It’s barbaric.”
“And rather more so when you’re a girl,” Annie seethed. “I ‘ope me poor sisters aren’t at ‘ome getting the same lectures I did. Like to drive them mad, too.”
“You’ve got the spark of it, my friend. Women are held to such a ridiculous standard, as if we are inherently impressed with the burden of all morality, and thus, at the mercy of it. Then, when we are sullied or abused by men, we are blamed for our own victimhood.” The younger lass’ eyes widened.
“Are we also more like to blame ourselves if a man or boy… hurts us?” Annie asked, suddenly cautious. Valentine raised an eyebrow.
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “Because we are taught to expect that burden, of keeping men on the straight-and-narrow, of not tempting them to sin. We are ‘moral’, they, ‘immoral’, and so we are both victim and scapegoat.”
“Oh…” Annie uttered, hand on her heart. “Cor, ‘ow dreadful. You know, when I was poor, it was somethin’ I never ‘ad to think about,” the young woman stated, shaking her head. “In the struggle of living it didn’t matter. But afterward… Suddenly I was a ‘proper young lady’, I ‘ad to ‘think of my virtue’ and stay far, far away from the ‘ruffians’ ‘oo might ‘ruin’ me. If I didn’t, I Kartal Öğrenci Escort was warned I wouldn’t make a good marriage. And wouldn’t that just be the death of me?” Annie snipped, her dander rising.
“It is dreadful,” Valentine agreed. “We are not responsible for the choices of any single other human being,” she affirmed. “We are only responsible for our own choices. And in that regard, Annie, I need your help with an… undertaking.” Time to reveal herself, and begin to enact her dire mission.
“What sor’ of ‘undertaking’?” The Londoner asked, her head cocked. Valentine leaned in so that her words would be limited to Annie’s ears only, for now.
“I am hunting.” She whispered, her words like daggers. “There is at least one fox among the hens in this place, and I intend to punish him. But I need information, and you’ve been here long enough to have heard rumours. And I hope I am not too late to prevent you from encountering the same mongrel I have… but if I am too late, then you have my absolute word that vengeance shall be yours.”
At this news, and at the vicious anger in Valentine’s voice, Annie stiffened. Once more her hand shot to the opposite wrist, and the marks she knew were there burned with the memory.
“What… do you mean?” the girl whispered back, needing to know her secret pains were not her fault, nor unknown to anyone else.
“The reason I was in my underthings at breakfast was that my escort attacked me the night before, determined to take my virtue.” Valentine told her, unashamed, unflinching. “And I expected it. So I trounced him. He walks these halls, and I have sworn to punish him for his misdeed.”
There was a gasp, and Annie covered her mouth with one hand.
For a long time, certainly before she’d even been sent by her worried parents to Mistress’ Halifax’s, Annie had felt like a girl endlessly tumbling down a ravine. Nearer and nearer to the bottom of an inescapable and fatal trap, yet somehow never arriving. It was a perpetual hell of fear and suspense as the young lady felt torn between the dread of the end and the terror of living. It hadn’t gotten any better since her arrival at the asylum, considering something much worse than being quashed by her father had happened here. But for the first time, embraced and regarded by Valentine without qualm, Annie felt ground under her feet. She felt safe, safe enough to test the newfound trust she decided to give her companion.
“I’ve ‘ave ‘eard bad stories from some of the gels here. And worse…” The girl sucked a breath and rolled back the loose material of her sleeve. Valentine stifled a gasp when she saw the scars, well-healed as most of them were, crisscrossing her friend’s pale skin. Still, a few of the marks were fresher, and the very newest (still scabbed over, in fact) were not as cleanly made as the others. “I used to steal me da’s straight razor,” she offered by way of explanation in a sad voice, “but since I was sent here for this I ‘aven’t any way of getting a blade, so… I tear at it with my own nails.” Valentine reflexively clutched the wrist of this battle-hewn arm, her eyes heavy with emotion.
“Why, Annie?” The lass hesitated a good minute before giving up and confessing what she hadn’t told anyone else. Months ago and yet the nightmares lingered; the anxiety overwhelmed her until the gouges were the only release. Valentine, with her brash declaration, inspired a last gleam of hope. Annie simply could not withstand the pressure of the secret any longer. If she never said something, would anyone know why she hurt?
“One of the servant boys cornered me in my room one afternoon, and tried to get up my dress while he held me against the wall. I was so terrified I couldn’t even scream.” The words had dropped to a bare murmur. “It was sheer luck that Dr Connelly happened to come by for me, and the little bugger ‘ad to scramble to make it look like he was attending some menial chore in my room. ‘E only got a scoldin’ for bein’ there with me unchaperoned, and I was too upset to say anything. The boy mimed me to stay quiet behind Connelly’s back, draggin’ ‘is finger across ‘is throat at me. I didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t say anything.”
Valentine’s sudden turn of anger was like the taste of blood in the back of Annie’s throat.
“Who was the boy? Do you know? Can you describe him?” The aristocrat asked sharply. No matter who it was, he was going to find out how painful and terrifying her wrath could be.
“‘E’s called Charles. I know that because there’s lots of gels who talk about ‘im.” Annie blanched seeing the other’s face, humbled once again by her elder’s moods, and this was the blackest she’d yet seen. The hate and fury on Valentine’s face was so deep it had rendered even that beautiful visage ugly to look upon. A low growl sounded from the tightly clenched teeth and rumbled in her larynx.
“About our age? My height? Very Kartal Çıtır Escort dark hair that falls into his eyes?” Her friend nodded. The hate on Valentine’s face grew harder. “Thank you for telling me, Annie. I believe you. And don’t worry. I am going to make him pay. He is going to rue the day his mother whelped him and did not throw him to the wild beasts!” The vitriol brewing inside her cowed even her own lust, which was a feat beyond reckoning that Annie knew nothing about.
“Was ‘e the one ‘oo attacked you too, Valentine?” asked the little mouse.
Just once, her mouth pressed into a tight line, the Godwin daughter nodded.
“He’s going to pay for his sins. We are not his objects.”
Having not once taken his eyes off his dear woman, August was fascinated by the facial clues that passed across her features as the conversation played out. He noted mirth, motherly concern, arrogant pride, sadness and now total abhorrence- such a range across the course of perhaps three-quarters an hour’s talk, all told. His hand wrote furiously all the while, pausing only while he assessed something new before hastily scribbling it all down. Some echoes of her first appearance were there in the final expression, and even when she clasped the other girl’s hand in fervent empathy, he could see traces of the storm. It had to be connected. Evidently her fit was triggered by something specific, something which had reared its head unexpectedly during her conversation. It had to be, for a minute prior she was all smiles as she found him there, watching.
Dr Connelly himself soon approached his colleague and supervisor, just as intrigued by the emotional journey undertaken by the women.
“Is that not your new charge, Blackmore?” he said, bemused. “Look at her! She’s talking about it! ” That of course, referring to Annie. Poor Bartholomew Connelly, the subtly-smiling head doctor pondered. For a year he taxed every art he knew to help improve the somber girl’s disposition, and in less than an hour someone else cracked the wall.
“Aye,” August answered. “I’m rather impressed myself. You can be sure I will discover the entire nature of this conversation. Miss Godwin will not lie to me.” Connelly let go a derisive snort.
“She’s a hysteric, isn’t she? How can you rely upon her word?” August grinned; there was a slight feral edge to it. His eyes glittered as well.
“There is a reason I rose to head physician, Connelly. She might appear uncontrollable, unruly, but I know my work. Mark me, she’ll snap to attention when my shadow falls at her feet.” August said this fervently, but without a trace of smugness. Nothing he said of himself would not ring true for her as well.
Connelly nodded, and cleared his throat with the embarrassment of an out-of-sorts gentleman.
“We’re all expecting either disaster or total triumph, Blackmore. If anyone can calm that one, it’s you.” The skinny, bookish Bartholomew bustled to his usual spot, following suit with the others. Each doctor took the same position after the midday meal every day, and in that manner, drew his personal retinue toward him to be marched single-file to the large parlour. August had only his Valentine, and when the time came to gather their flocks, he made his move toward her, left all alone at her table.
When the girls initially began to rise, Miss Godwin was still burning with her rage. Everything but Annie was quite forgotten until the girl sighed and rose like the others.
“You make it sound so simple, Valentine, but the men have all the power here. And that dog has gotten away with it already,” Annie muttered sadly. “I hear the crying, and the rumours.” Refusing to stand, having no queue to join, Valentine allowed a dangerous smile to creep up.
“Not anymore.” She said simply. “I will see you soon.” Silence fell, and Annie shuffled to her place, last for once in her group of ten. As they all waited, Miss Tailor’s eyes never left the figure dressed in the lovely pine green.
Doctor Blackmore reached his patient, his match, his partner.
“Come Miss Godwin; we lead the troops together, now.” August offered his arm; she took it, grateful to be a part of him again but still reeling from what she’d learned. As soon as they drew close she knew the information she’d received was too pressing to hold. Nothing about Charles’ failed antagonism to her ruffled her in the slightest, but unearthing his predator upon a true innocent was more than she could suffer to exist. So as she surged to her feet, she spoke under her breath.
“We must talk immediately,” she hissed, leaving no doubt of the urgency she felt. August’s eyebrows rose, and his pulse quickened. Whatever she had discovered with Annie was just as dire as her facial expressions suggested, but until the strike of eight (when supper was ended and there was free time before lights out), they had not the luxury of the privacy.
“Indeed Kartal Elit Escort little bird,” he muttered under his breath in return, “I wish to know what was said between you and Miss Tailor. However it will have to wait until we are once again in private. Can you manage that?” He asked because he could see another torrent under her careful mask of emotion. A lurch of bile clawed up the back of the woman’s throat. Hatred caused her stomach to churn with it, and she clenched her jaw to keep it dammed. Oh, she wanted to taste the sodding, insignificant rodent’s fear. The fury was unleashed not only because an innocent girl had suffered, but because Valentine could have ended his reign more thoroughly in her room and hadn’t. Damn it, but foresight was not often her strong suit. Mere humiliation was not enough for the boy, in her mind. There was a tally of his sins marked into the delicate, pale arms of one unhappy girl that would be converted into his punishment. She seethed in silence, unable to answer her Master straightaway. The doctor looked at her with distress and sympathy. “Is it too much to hold, my girl?”
Valentine was squeezing her fists bloodless, her shoulders quaking. The edges of the world were blurring and crimson. She could dash off to the pursuit right then, and show them all what madness truly looked like… No. It could not happen, not now. The woman released her taut muscles, and breathed. She swallowed her rage as best she could and replied grimly.
“I shall try. I shall try if only for you.” Speaking no further, lest she explode and hunt down the boy to throw him at the doctor’s feet before the entire hospital, Valentine allowed herself to be led on her man’s arm, and line by line the others joined.
They walked in silence, and for a few minutes Valentine dedicated her thoughts to the myriad ways she could torture and kill Charles Richardson, from hanging to burning at the stake, and with far more gruesome tactics in between.
Once they arrived in the spacious sitting area, complete with antiquated but well-kept couches, card tables and wooden chairs, patients began to mingle once more and waited for the nurses to gather their various medicines. Valentine was on no pill or herbal concoction, and so she waited in tight-lipped grim quiet until the general buzz of instructions and checks died down. August was surveying the process, ensuring that everything was on course. It only took a few minutes. The ladies began to take up their various pursuits, forming knots of social activity. Annie was walking toward Valentine, and visibly the tension abated in the green-clad shoulders. Doctor Blackmore stood there while the new friends met up, and he smiled to himself, observing their behaviour. Valentine linked arms with Annie, and pointed toward a couch as-of-yet unoccupied. Annie dipped her head.
“Good day, Miss Tailor.” August greeted her her cheerfully.
“Good day, sir,” Annie warbled in return.
“Miss Godwin, now that we have decided upon your activity for the afternoons, I have something for you.” He had something under his arm, hidden by his own notes and papers. It was a thick, leather-covered journal, kept closed by a button and thin cord of black, tanned hide. The button was wood, stained a delicious wine red. He drew it from his supplies and presented it. Then he pulled from his pocket a brand-new fountain pen and placed it on top. Valentine looked closer and saw that the wooden button, ’round which the thong was wrapped, was carved into the shape of a rose. She loved it immediately. “Starting today, I want you to write in this diary every afternoon. It doesn’t matter what you write, nor how long it is. You must simply have an entry for each day, to be shared with me when I request. Is this amenable?” He waited in earnest patience.
After only a moment’s pause, she took it.
“Of course,” she breathed, running her hand over the buttery surface, delicately tracing the smooth details of the carving with a fingertip. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you.” At that moment she allowed only her eyes to express the outpouring of emotion she felt for him, and kept her voice cool, polite. August saw the gravity in her gaze and smiled, withdrawing.
“Enjoy your afternoon. I will meet you after your supper.” He gave an implied bow, and drew back to meander the room and talk with his colleagues before attending to his own necessary work. Annie and Valentine remained. Annie stifled a giggle.
“Not one of them can conquer you, I see,” she said, lightly teasing. Valentine smiled, but shrugged her shoulders and feigned an air of indifference. Her hoity-toity speech was back again.
“I never said I wouldn’t treat one of them respectfully, if I received the same favour. If there’s any one man in this establishment you can trust, it is Doctor Blackmore.” She spoke firmly, with no nonsense or affection to saturate her meaning. “I intend to apply my position as his personal study to great effect.” She drew the journal to her heart unconsciously. “It speaks volumes that he would appeal to the person I am in my treatment.” Annie thought about this, and agreed. It seemed nice to have someone pay attention to the things that made you ‘you.’
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