Society with a Vengeance.
Fayth [email protected]
Disclaimer- I own nothing. Joss is the glorious owner.
Rating- G
She could hear the jeers coming from the many nobles that her father had all but demanded she invite to the little gathering, a little gathering of about two hundred of her peers.
The mindless actions of greeting her associates in a manner that befits the lady of such a well established and well thought of family such as the London Adams�, had been ingrained in her from infancy.
�Stand up straight. Deportment and elocution are essential to identify good breeding my dear. Do not be foolish girl; never forget that you are an Adams.�
She wanted to roll her eyes at the memory but she knew her Father�s eagle eyes would be centred on her tonight.
So with a polite society smile she returned to what the salivating socialites were drivelling about. But, as she fixed the perfunctory look on her face of feigned interest, her mind wandered back in time to her coming out ball.
Her amazing societal debut, which graced the covers of some of societies more affluent newsletters, had been punctuated by frequent visits to the bedroom to sob her heart out. It was at that point that she knew her somewhat carefree days of a child were truly gone and that her only possible destiny now was to make herself some arrogant buffoon�s wife. An ornament passed from overbearing father to overbearing husband like chattel; to bear him several spoiled, arrogant children, especially a son and heir and then to spend her remaining days engaged in pointless idle work, even more pointless cruel gossip and the ever useful �female arts�; never knowing true love or happiness and eventually dying surrounded by pompous relatives who would bemoan the passing of a wife, mother and Lady. Not a person just a title.
It was a thing out of nightmares but something that would all too soon become a reality for her. That realisation had tainted each and every occasion afterwards to the extent that each social engagement rung like a death toll, each invitation, a summons and each soiree was a duty to be endured rather than a pleasure.
Tonight her father had taken her aside and declared that it was high time she seek to attract a husband, she would soon be of an age where she would be passed over for younger women and it was not to be borne if she could not find a husband before the Lewis� daughter, who was nowhere near their equal in wealth and status.
She had no desire to do as she was told and acquire a husband, perhaps it was foolish but she knew that she could be more than that, she had potential. She was not just a pretty face and a grand inheritance.
A rough cough from across the room dragged her out of her unpleasant and fantastical notions of a better life, which threatened to overwhelm and depress her, and bought her attention sharply back to the conversation.
The group of aristocrats around her had turned their attention to the topic of the disappearances that plagued the London areas in recent times. Their insignificant minds not grasping the fact that people, actual people, were missing, possibly dead- no to them and their limited imagination it was just five minutes of risqu� conversation on an almost unseemly topic to fill the void in the rest of their diminutive repertoire of conversation.
Attempting to pull herself out of her melancholy disposition she tried to fuel the conversation to ward off her upcoming confrontation with her father about her lack of potential suitors.
�Well what are the police doing in their investigation?�
The instant she opened her mouth to speak they had all halted as if each word out of her mouth was a pearl too precious to be unnoticed amidst the usual cacophony of sound they would issue forth and too valuable to be lost through inattention
After all it was her home, her soiree and they were her friends. Or were they? Did she actually have friends? Confidents? People in whom she could trust with her inmost thoughts, secret, doubts and desires?
She cast a surreptitious glance around and was once more disappointed to find no one that fulfilled those criteria. Fools, she thought contemptuously, drunk on their own self importance. Totally unaware of the world in which they profess to be possessors.
�Good question.�
�Excellent question.� They simpered.
Once again fighting the urge to roll her eyes she pretended to preen at their admiration.
One of the aristocrats, an arrogant dullard who thought himself above those around because his father owned some considerable land cleared his throat.
�I mean to point out that it�s something of a mystery and the police should keep an open mind.�
She smiled as she sought to be agreeable. Charles Lasher was well thought of by her father and it would not do to give offence.
�Ah, William! Favour us with your opinion. What do you make of this rash of disappearances sweeping through our town? Animals or thieves?�
She half turned to spy the new addition to their party that Godric Messenger was referring to. It was the quiet man, William Ashton, he had been at the theatre the other night a few rows back from their party; occasionally he joined them but not too often as he seemed to prefer his own company. Lasher often made comments about his poetry. Unkind comments, still he was an alright sort of fellow if a little mouse like. He swallowed and blushed as he locked gazes with her.
�I prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. That is what the police are for. I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty.�
For the first time she noticed his hands full of paper. He shifted his gaze from the paper back to her taking her by surprise.
�I see. Well, don�t withhold William.� Eric Jacobs snatched the paper from the stuttering man much to the amusement of all there.
�Rescue us from a dreary topic.� Lasher joked as they held the paper out of his reach.
�Careful. The inks are still wet. Please, it�s not finished.�
Bullies, she was unimpressed with their ways, childish and cruel.
Jacobs smirked �Don�t be shy. Ahem,� he cleared his throat and began to read in a mocking tone �My heart expands/ �tis grown a bulge in it/ Inspired by your beauty, effulgent. Effulgent?� he began to laugh and the others joined in. She hated them at the moment no matter what propriety would dictate and walked away despite knowing that such an action would commandeer another talk from her father on proper etiquette.
No matter her mindset she could not help but overhear their parting comments.
�And that�s actually one of his better compositions.�
�Have you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry.�
�It suits him. I�d rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff.�
She sat at the window seat and stared out onto the street at the people rushing and pushing by. The lower classes who boasted a freedom she could only dream about. Even the strumpets who laughed as they cleaned themselves over a horse trough seemed to have more freedom than she, a noble woman of privileged circumstances. She almost envied them; if she was unaware of what they did for a living she might have been tempted to befriend one. It was scandalous to even contemplate such.
�Cecily?�
She turned and sighed. Why did he follow her, his eyes shining, didn�t he know that she wanted to be alone?
�Oh, leave me alone.� She said quietly. She didn�t wish to be rude but could not abide it if they all came over to continue their mocking.
�Oh, they�re vulgarians. They are not like you and I.�
She was surprised out of her melancholy and stared at him. Did he suppose that they had something in common? She watched as he grasped his paper and look at her with shining eyes. He had his dreams all sketched out in his hand and she was unable to even vocalise her own. He had a mother who doted on him and would allow him to fulfil whatever ambition he decided upon. She was bound to follow her father�s law and society�s expectations and marry. What could they possibly have in common?
�You and I?� she had a sudden insight as she watched him watch her. �I�m going to ask you a personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?�
He inclined his head, almost shyly.
She did not know how to phrase the question; it was of such a delicate nature.
�Your poetry, it�s�they�re�not written about me, are they?�
�They are about how I feel.� He hedged looking down
��Yes, but are they about me?�
She could see him gathering his courage together
�Every syllable.�
�Oh God!�
She could come up with no ladylike exclamation that would sum up how she felt about that. He may have been nice and sweet but there was no way that she could even think of an alliance with him, in every way her father would forbid it. He was, perhaps their equal in class but in wealth, status and social standing he was not even close.
She could not allow herself to feel for him or even consider him as a suitable suitor.
�Oh I know�it�s sudden and�please, if they are no good, they�re only words but�the feeling behind them�I love you, Cecily.�
�Please stop.� She begged. It was unfair of him to put this on her shoulders. For a moment she could see herself with this sweet man, he loved her and she him, they would live together in a small cottage somewhere in the country, a simple life. They would have children who were loved and were pleasant and they could sit together for hours talking about things of beauty and of nothing of any importance and it would not matter because they were happy.
Then she looked up and caught her father�s eye and her dreams crashed down on her head.
She could not love him, could not feel love for him, it had no place in her future so why try to understand his own. It was an impossible situation and she was determined that she should stop his infatuation and let him move along, he deserved better.
�I know I�m a bad poet but I�m a good man and all I ask is that�that you try to see me.�
To be cruel to be kind.
�I do see you. That�s the problem. You�re nothing to me, William. You�re beneath me.�
Avoiding the crushed look on his face she stood and walked over to her father who had beckoned.
�My dear Cecily what did that man want?� his tone was accusatory.
�He wished to garner my affections.� She replied smoothly even though she wanted nothing more than to rally and cry at the cruel words she had cast at him.
�And what was your response?� was her father�s cool reply.
�I refused his advances, he was�beneath me.� She retorted airily and felt sick to her stomach at his approving smile.
�Well done my dear.�
�I feel quite unwell.� She said truthfully �I will retire to my room.� Before he could answer her she swept away in a regal manner that would do him proud.
Alone in her room she threw herself on her bed in an infantile fashion and bit back a shriek of frustration. Taking several breaths to calm herself she moved to her dresser to remove her hair pins.
Glancing in the mirror revealed that there was someone else in the room, a shadow hidden by the curtain.
�What do you think you are doing in here?� she spun to pin the dark shadow with a glare.
�I wished to speak to you my dear, I heard your call.�
�I called for no one.� She said haughtily �Please leave.�
�Oh you called, and I answered.� It was a man�s voice which was soft and conversational.
�You must be mistaken, now please leave.� Her voice got louder.
�We have things to discuss.� The tone was no longer friendly but adamant.
�Step into the light.� She ordered wanting to see who dared defy her.
�As you wish.�
She gasped as the cloaked figure did indeed step into the light cast by her lamp. He had a hideous deformed visage and curled horns like she�d seen on pictures of goats, a white face and big black eyes.
�No.� she hissed and clapped a hand to her mouth. She got up to run to the safety of her father but with a gesture the door slammed shut.
�Don�t hurt me.� She begged in tears.
�I�m not here to hurt you.� he crooned soothingly �I�m here to help. My dear Cecily Helen Adams, I know you. You are trapped by society�s idiotic rules and laws of female subservience; you wish to be so much more but are trapped, screaming without a way out. I can give you that way out. I can let you give voice and action to all those fears and frustrations, for you to take your vengeance on those who cursed you to this meagre role.�
�H-how?� she cowered near the bed, frightened as a monster her nanny had insisted did not exist talked to her in the safety and comfort of her own room.
�Your pain, my dear. We could hear it in the lower regions. It screamed to us, called to us and we answered.�
�I will not sell my soul.� She maintained and she wouldn�t.
�Let me guess?� he responded wryly �You�ve been to see Dr Faust at the theatre? Rank amateur.� He sniffed �We can appease your pain and we do not require your soul.�
�Then what?�
�Your services.� He smiled �Pain like yours can be channelled into more�adequate avenues.�
�N-no I thank you.� It paid to be polite �I do not wish to.�
�Very well.� He sighed and produced a large coin from his pocket.
�Should you change your mind give me a chant.�
�Chant?� she took he coin he proffered
�Call what is engraved on the talisman.� She looked at the dirty writing carved into the gold �Beatum sit in nomine D'Hoffrynis. Fiat hoc spatium porta ad mundum Arashmaharris de doffrin?�
�D�Hoffryn.� He cautioned �The h is not silent.�
She looked up again and he had vanished, had it not been for the coin that lay in her warm palm she would have thought that she imagined it. As it was she threw herself back onto her bed fully dressed and tried to sleep, her mind still awhirl from her visitation.
It was two days after the party that she heard the news that rocked her world to its core. She had had callers yesterday and had been around calling herself. She had heard the same news about the party over and over again and had condolences for her absence and inquiries after her health time and again. She managed to shut out several suggestions that it had been William�s poetry that had caused the migraine that ensued but was uneasy when she heard of his fleeing the room in tears after her rebuttal. She had to harden her heart and repeat that he was better off without her; he had obviously been mistaken in his choice of infatuation.
She sat in Millicent Archer�s conservatory taking tea and cake with the group and enjoying the afternoon sun. She wasn�t paying much attention to the conversation, just staring out of the window at the straight lined lawn in the perfect garden.
�Oh when I heard about it!� shrilled Millicent �I was horrified, I mean poor William!�
She jerked back to attention �I beg your pardon.�
�Why Cecily, did you not hear?�
�Hear what my dear?�
Millicent clutched her hands together in dramatic fashion and moved closer to the group.
�William Ashton has not been seen for two days. Not since the party and his mother has been frantic, apparently last night or in the early hours the police uncovered his coat in the alley down in Hammer Street, what do you think? Covered in blood!�
Several of the young ladies gasped at the news.
�No.� Her voice was tight as she refused the news admittance to her brain.
�Good Lord!� Charles Lasher�s eyebrows were high as he looked around at his fellow bullies.
�To think, one of our own gone missing.� Jacobs admonished �I hope the police have a damn good explanation!� he coloured �Excuse my language Ladies.�
�To be certain Charles, it is a shame, I always liked the fellow.� Messenger maintained.
�The service is to-morrow week.�
She felt dizzy and nauseous, her breath coming faster. William had not gone home. Her harsh words had led him to distraction and he had been�taken? Murdered? Those who had openly mocked him now professed to be his closest acquaintances and mourned him. Hypocrites, she thought fiercely.
�My dear Cecily are you unwell?�
�Of course she is this is unsettling news.� Lasher took her trembling tea cup out of her hands �Cecily let me fetch my carriage and take you home.�
�Yes please.� She managed a smile at him, weak though it was �I must go home, forgive me.�
�Of course.� They all fussed and fawned while secretly cherishing her actions to report the next time they were gathered in company.
Lasher helped her to the door and she made her way up the stairs as he stopped to explain her appearance to her father.
She dropped to her dresser, hurt at heart and unwilling to make any effort to change or undress.
Minutes perhaps hours passed as she fought to control herself, she had just begun to slow her racing heart when there came a knock at her bedroom door.
�Enter.� She permitted and stood smoothing down her skirts.
Her father walked in with a jovial smile on his face �You are quite flushed my dear, are you well?�
�Did you hear about Mr Ashton?� she inquired
�Ashton? Oh yes I do recall Lasher telling me something about it, terrible shame, fine fellow.�
�He was.� She said sadly.
�No I meant Lasher.� her father laughed �I have news for you my dear. Lasher has just asked me for your hand in marriage, what do you say to that?�
She couldn�t have been more shocked and dismayed.
�I beg your pardon?�
�Lasher wants to marry you.� His smile fell as hers didn�t materialise. �What�s the matter?�
�It�s indecent.� She hissed, shocked beyond propriety �One of our friends has just died, been murdered, and he asks for my hand? It�s the height of�of�misjudgement and inappropriate timing, it shows his intense insensitivity and� inappropriate�coldness and complete lack of�of�how dare he!� she managed �How could he even think of proposing at a time like this, without even making his affections and intentions known to me, he couldn�t possibly be a decent sort and I refuse to accept his hand.�
�William Ashton was a fool and a dreamer and no friend of yours.� her father growled at her �He was probably wool-gathering when he should have been paying attention to pickpockets. Lasher is our kind of people and you will marry him.�
�I will not.� She stood her ground and glared back at her father. She marvelled at her own daring at defying her father.
Without warning or foreshadowing his hand reared up and dealt a stinging slap to her face.
She gasped shocked as her hand flew to her cheek feeling the throbbing ache.
�I did not raise you to be this insolent, Cecily. I am your father and consequently your owner. You belong to me and it is high time that you were wed. Lasher is a man of high status and class and you will announce your engagement in due course.�
�So close to William�s funeral there will be talk.� Her hand shook as she bought it down to her side.
�Yes.� He paused thoughtfully �I will consult with Lasher and perhaps the day following the service we shall announce it.�
It was like the slap had never happened as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
�I�m so pleased for you my dear, congratulations.� He swept out of the room.
Her bottom lip trembled and a sob escaped her lips in a hysterical fashion, resentment and hurtful pride bubbled up into her throat. Her chest expanded as air caught in her lungs and with a mighty exhalation the dam burst and the tears came hard and furious. They streamed down her cheeks and in her despair she did not even reach for her handkerchief, she reeled and clutched for some stability. She finally grasped the poster of her bed and leaned against its wooden support sobbing great heaving sobs that couldn�t be fully released due to the tightness of her corset.
Placing a hand on her chest she sank to the floor trying desperately to breathe but the lace bindings in her dress made it too laborious and her vision swam as she began to fight for breath between the weeping. Her last thought as she succumbed to unconsciousness was that her nightmares were only just beginning.
When she awoke the shadows in the room told her that she had been out for most of the day and it was early evening; the time for supper and evening engagements. But the only engagement she had was with her misery. She climbed to her feet using the wooden bed post as her support. She managed to stagger over to the dresser and mechanically, like those clockwork toys that were recently in fashion she took her comb and tried to make herself presentable for supper. She caught sight of herself in the glass and hardly recognised her own face. Streaks of tears ran in red rivulets down her face, her rouge and other make up were smudged and she looked positively haggard. The tears ran again as she wiped her face of the offending substances until she was fresh faced looking for the entire world like a scared child.
She reached out and touched the child hoping to comfort her but there was no one to comfort her, there never had been. Slamming her fist against the mirror her head landed atop her dresser in abject anguish. Opening her eyes she caught sight in the glass of her top drawer open and something gold glinting in the fading sun. It was a talisman. The talisman.
She took it gently and stared at the innocent words engraved. Something told her that this was not a one time business application but a commitment. Could it be worse than marriage to that man? Cooed her inner self. His wealth gained by human suffering in slavery, his ideology of using the whip ingrained from his father. No. it was a definite decision and one she did not hesitate to take as she read the inscription on the coin.
�Beatum sit in nomine D'Hoffrynis. Fiat hoc spatium porta ad mundum Arashmaharris� she was careful to enunciate and held her breath as winds swirled around her.
She closed her eyes against the harsh feel and when she opened them again she was in a darkened hall.
�Hello?� she called out frightened. The man who had been in her room stepped forward.
�Ah Miss Adams.�
�S-sir.� She stammered and dropped a curtsy �I called.�
�We heard.� He gestured around him to the darkness �I take it you want to join our fold?�
�I don�t� I�m unsure. I can not marry him and the pain�� she bit her lip, the pain of knowing how little she was valued by her father and her peers, of how much pain she had inflicted upon the sweet William and her horror and revulsion of having to bow to society�s whims and marry Lasher was all too great for her to bare.
�Ah yes William Ashton.� He smiled humourlessly �he is already a great favourite around here.�
�He�s alive?� for a brief moment she felt a flicker of hope that she had not been responsible for his demise. It was not much but it was a start.
�Oh no he is quite dead.� D�Hoffryn dashed her hopes �Ran straight from your party into a group of Vampires.�
�Vampires?� she felt faint, such monsters existed?
�Yes but all that will be behind you. I give you freedom from those who would enslave you to their values and I can give you and your life purpose, direction and of course length.�
�L-length?�
�Working for us you become immortal�within limits of course.�
The prospect of immortality was enticing �What do you require of me?�
�You go through the world avenging those with pain like yours, you take their fondest wish, their deepest desire and make it manifest. All power is given you; you may travel oceans in a single thought; alter reality; watch as the world changes and help it on its way.� he smiled at her �To avenge is the greatest power imaginable.�
�I make their pain vanish?� she felt hope at the thought that she could prevent others feeling what she had.
�If they wish it. The very power of life and death will be in your hands. I see the inner you and I see�potential.�
She was caught and she knew that he knew it.
�Yes.� The prospect of power and the ability to direct pain away from those who had never deserved it filled her with determination.
�Great sign here.� From the depths of his robes he pulled a quill and parchment.
Assuredly she took the quill and signed on the line indicated. As soon as the flow of the ink finished, the paper vanished in a poof of smoke.
�Here is something to get you started out, rules and such forth.� He handed to her a leather bound volume which proclaimed in large gold letters
Vengeance for beginners
�We shall give you a new name, one to suit your new outlook.� D�Hoffryn grinned �I think you shall be called Halfrek.�
�Halfrek.� The name sounded strange in her mouth and yet it fit. �I like it.�
�Well then, welcome to the vengeance fold Halfrek.�