“I thought we were going to see Barbara,” Arthur droned.
“We are,” Ulrika moaned in exasperation, “but, it seems so is her lunatic brother. You see—there—headed toward Iolanthe Evageline’s, with his companions?”
“I don’t want to see His Lordship,” Arthur tried to pull away from Ulrika who held on tightly.
“I don’t care what you want, really.” Ulrika growled. “Lord Fallbridge!” She shouted.
Several men turned to look at her.
“What are you staring at?” Ulrika barked.
The men laughed and looked away, happily returning to their night of merrymaking.
“Here,” Mr. Punch whispered to Robert. “Someone’s callin’ for Julian.”
“Keep walking,” Robert said.
“I know that voice, I do—deep like a man’s, but not. It’s that flame-haired witch.”
“Just keep walking. Act as though you don’t hear her.” Robert said.
“She’s headed for us.” Cecil grunted.
“Oh, and she’s got Arthur with her.” Mr. Punch sighed. “God help us. But, why?”
Ulrika ran toward the three men, dragging Arthur behind her.
“Lord Fallbridge,” Ulrika panted, lifting the veil, once again, from her face. “I’ll need to have a word with you.”
“What for?” Mr. Punch mumbled, making no attempt to pretend to be Julian.
“I need to talk with you about your man.” Ulrika lied.
“He ain’t me man.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Don’t know whose man he is now. I ‘spose he’s your man. You seem to have some kind of fondness for him though I’d like to remind you that he’s married to the one what calls herself Barbara Allen.”
“I’ve caught him trying to rob me.” Ulrika continued.
“I ain’t done no such thing.” Arthur said. “You’re the one that robbed me.”
“Quiet!” Ulrika snapped.
“How fortunate to find you three here.” Ulrika said. “I was just on my way to see you at the address I was given from Mr. Halifax’s servants.”
Cecil shook his head, “Then, you’re going the opposite direction, Miss Rittenhouse. Royal Street is that way. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got some business which needs our urgent attention.”
“Business?” Ulrika smiled. “What sort of business could three fine gentlemen have in a place such as this? I don’t know about these things, really, but, isn’t this quite the disreputable part of The Quarter? I believe this street is lined with…shall we say, houses of ill-repute.”
“It doesn’t concern you, Miss Rittenhouse.” Robert snapped. “And it especially doesn’t concern your companion.”
“Here, leave us alone. Would ya?” Mr. Punch sighed.
“I have a good mind to go straight to Mrs. Halifax and tell her what I’ve seen tonight.” Ulrika grinned.
“And, I’ve a good mind to speak with your father when he arrives tomorrow. I think I owe it to my employer to tell him that his eldest child was caught in the French Quarter—in such a ‘disreputable’ part of town—with an even more so disreputable, married, male companion.” Cecil grinned back at her.
“Father would never believe such a thing.” Ulrika frowned.
“We could draw him a picture,” Mr. Punch smiled.
“Go on with you,” Cecil continued. “We’ve an appointment to keep.”
“Shall I come along?” Ulrika asked quickly.
“Go with your friend.” Robert demanded. “Go do whatever it is you do.”
“I don’t think I should.” Ulrika replied frantically.
“Look, if you caught him stealing from you, go to the authorities.” Robert snorted. “Or punish him in your own way. It’s, frankly, none of our affair. We don’t care what you do.”
“So much for the famed English chivalry.” Ulrika frowned. She looked at Mr. Punch and winked. “Lord Fallbridge, you don’t look well at all. No, you look quite mad and desperate. What you need is some peace—eternal peace. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t it be ever so pleasant to have a quiet mind for eternity?”
“I’d settle for you goin’ away.” Mr. Punch grumbled.
“Come, gentlemen,” Robert stepped forward. “We don’t have time for this foolishness.”
“Ulrika, I’ve known you since you were a child.” Cecil said. “I always knew you were trouble. Do try to put yourself on the correct path.” He glanced at Arthur, “As for you, I wish that His Lordship had dumped you in the ocean.”
“I want to see Barbara,” Arthur hissed in Ulrika’s ear. She turned to slap him. As she did, Mr. Punch and his two companions walked away.
“You fool!” Ulrika screamed.
“What’re you tryin’ to do?” Arthur asked, the effects of the St. Dymphna’s root clearly beginning to wear off.
“I’m trying to prevent them from going to Iolanthe’s.” Ulrika snarled. “Nothing is going as planned.”
“What’s it to you if His Lordship and his friends go to Iolanthe’s?”
“Do you really want him to see Barbara? Really?” Ulrika spat. “And if he does—what then? Tell me? If he convinces her to return with him to England where does that leave us? I’ll tell you. It leaves me without her fortune and it leaves you without a wife!”
“She ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Arthur chuckled. “Not with him anyway.”
Ulrika clasped Arthur’s arm again.
“What’re you doin’?” Arthur growled.
“I’m taking you back to Royal Street. We need to hasten our plans.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you. Diamond or no diamond. I don’t know what you’ve been givin’ me and Barbara. But, it stops now. You’re not in control of me any longer! Now, I’m the one in control, see.”
Meanwhile, in the dusty back room of Miss Iolanthe’s Bawdy House, Barbara continued to plead with Naasir to escape with her. Her efforts were interrupted as Iolanthe Evangeline burst into the dark room. In her arms, she held a gangly toddler with an uncomfortably oversized head and egg-shaped eyes. The child drooled across the back of her crimson gown, leaving a dark maroon trail. He groaned as his mother carried him into the room.
“What’s this?” Iolanthe demanded. “I asked you to bind him.”
“I’m trying,” Barbara lied.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Iolanthe narrowed her eyes. “It sounds to me as if you’re doing just the opposite. I heard you, trollop. I don’t want you thinkin’ I didn’t.”
“I…” Barbara stammered.
“Take my child.” Iolanthe commanded. “And, go sit in the corner.”
Mala trotted into the room behind Iolanthe, she carried a large wooden bowl which smelled of copper, herbs and blood.
“Mala, set that on the altar and tie this man’s hands.” Iolanthe ordered. “I’ll prepare him.”
“Miss Iolanthe…” Barbara began.
“Silence!” Iolanthe snapped. “You’re to be quiet and watch. I need you to watch. Just be still and don’t upset my son. Egil is very delicate. Look at him, Barbara Allen. Look at his face.”
Barbara did as instructed and frowned.
“Not pretty, is it?” Iolanthe smiled. “Could you love such a face? If your own child had been born this way, you’d have had him drowned, I dare say. Be thankful your child is fair of face. We got a fine price for him. But, mine—my Egil…” She gulped. “This—this is the result of my sick heart and my dissolution, but the very things that caused him to be will cause him to be free! Hold him tightly! Hold him! Be careful of his head—his…enormous…”
“I done tied him,” Mala interrupted.
“Well done,” Iolanthe smiled. “At least I’ve got one loyal girl. It’s a blessing your mother didn’t drown you at birth, Mala. Ugly as you are…”
Mala laughed.
“That’s a good girl.” Iolanthe cooed.
“You’re insane.” Barbara trembled.
“And, you’re insolent!” Iolanthe snapped. She turned to Naasir. “Have you anything to say before we begin, Priest.”
Naasir was silent, looking directly into Iolanthe eyes.
Iolanthe squinted and looked away. “You can’t take my soul, Priest. I’ve not got one to give you.” She spun around. “Mala! Bring me the torch!”
Did you miss Chapters 1-119? If so, you can read them here.
6 comments:
I can't get enough of this story!
Thank you, Book Gurl.
I don't know what to expect from the despicable Ulrika and Iolanthe tomorrow, but I know I'll be back to see what happens.
Despicable is a good word for them, Darcy. I'm sure they'll continue to be despicable in all sorts of new ways tomorrow. Thanks for reading!
Those two are awful people. I hope they get theirs. Come on, don't kill the nice butler. Good help is hard to find.
Hmmmm...that's true, Fran. We'll just have to see what happens. It's always wonderful to see you here at STBE! I hope all is going well with you.
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