Iolanthe Evangeline shivered as a trickle of perspiration ran down her back and attracted the cold winter breeze to her damp gown. Her waxy makeup had begun to smudge as she sweated and she wanted to pause to look in the small glass she carried with her at all times. Iolanthe always prided herself on her appearance. When the world around her seemed chaotic, she could always comfort herself by gazing at her own reflection and studying the careful arch of her painted eyebrows, the smoothness of her cheeks beneath the layer of light-colored makeup she wore to conceal her dark complexion and the purposefully savage, yet, alluring red of her lips—drawn well past their natural lines to give her mouth a cruel, but oddly appealing fullness.
Yet, with her child in her arms, she dared not pause to examine her looks. All too aware that she was melting in her nervousness, she chose to focus on the baby that she carried in her arms—her poor son whom she feared would never be as handsome as his father or as beautiful even as her own long-lost brother and father. Iolanthe’s thoughts flooded with memories of her youth—her peaceful, strange, boring girlhood in a small Louisiana town, the daughter of a minister. Her name was different then. She was a pearl, a jewel, the sparkle in her father’s reverend eye. One sticky morning in a stable had changed that—had cast a dullness over her shine. She tried for years to polish herself to regain her sparkle. Sure, she had a radiance as Iolanthe Evangeline, but it was false—as false as the dark curls which she clipped into her hair, as false as the flawless cream complexion of her cheeks, as false as the padding she wore over her rapidly withering bosom.
“Slow down, Iolanthe,” Ulrika complained.
“You’d better speed up,” Iolanthe spat.
As they approached the hotel, Iolanthe took a deep breath and whispered to her child. “Egil, honey, there’s a man in there who’s gonna help ya. He’s gonna help ya be a boy like any other.”
The baby gurgled and sputtered and a wave of repulsion swept across Iolanthe’s back followed by a swell of shame as she secretly chastised herself for not loving her son enough.
“Open the door for me, would ya?” Iolanthe said sharply.
Ulrika frowned at the order, but did as Iolanthe instructed. As she did, she was startled when three men in uniform stormed from the hotel and stood between her and Iolanthe.
“Iolanthe Evangeline?” The tallest man asked.
“Who’s asking?” Iolanthe growled.
“Come with us.” The other man said.
“Why?” Iolanthe hissed.
“You’re accused of the murder of the Duke of Fallbridge, Doctor Robert Halifax and the Duke’s nephew.” The man answered. “Now, I’ll thank you to give the child to your companion.”
Ulrika looked confused. “What are you saying, Sir?”
“You heard me.” The man spat.
The third man stepped forward, “Give the child to your friend, Miss Evangeline.”
“No.” Iolanthe backed away. Two of the men restrained her.
“No!” Iolanthe shouted again. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Egil began to cry.
“Give him to me,” Ulrika urged.
“Never!” Iolanthe howled.
“Take the child!” The second man ordered.
“Don’t touch him!” Iolanthe screamed. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“She hasn’t!” Ulrika said quickly. “She’s been with me.”
“Maybe you should come with us, too.” The third man grinned.
Iolanthe looked confused. She took a deep breath. “There’s no need for Miss Rittenhouse to be involved with this.”
Ulrika puffed air from her cheeks.
“Ulrika, take my son.” Iolanthe said softly.
“Where?” Ulrika stammered.
“Take him to Edward’s.” Iolanthe whispered.
“Very well.” Ulrika shrugged.
“What’d you do with the bodies?” The second man grumbled as Iolanthe handed Egil to Ulrika.
“I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t want you thinkin’ that I do.”
“You can tell us in prison, then.” The first man laughed.
“We’ve been after you for a long time, Miss Evangeline.” The second man smiled.
“And, now we finally got you.” The third officer nodded.
“Hurry, Ulrika.” Iolanthe said. “Take my boy to Edward Cage. Tell him what’s happened!”
Ulrika watched as the men pushed Iolanthe to their armored carriage. She looked down at the child in her arms and shivered at his distorted face. “What do you think, you ugly little thing?” Ulrika cooed. “Do you think your mama killed those people? I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Edward Cage wants a child, but I don’t think he wants a little beast like you. It’s not a fair trade is it—a monster for a boy?” She laughed cruelly. “You’re no good to anyone, are you? Or, are you?”
Ulrika grinned as an idea passed through her mind. “Perhaps Edward should see you after all.”
Meanwhile, Edward Cage was quite busy with his own thoughts as he leaned into the carriage in which Mr. Punch, Colin, Robert, Cecil and Adrienne were trapped.
“This doesn’t have to be difficult,” Edward smiled. “Simply hand over Holt and we’ll forget about this whole thing. Cecil, maybe even I’ll offer your employment back to you.”
“I wouldn’t accept it, even if you did.” Cecil responded sharply.
“How could I expect you to be anything other than ungrateful?” Edward chuckled.
“I’m not givin’ this child to you,” Mr. Punch shook his head.
“He’s my son.” Edward said.
“No, he ain’t!” Mr. Punch spat.
Edward sighed. “I had wanted to do this nicely.”
“Why start now?” Robert snarled.
“True.” Edward nodded. “It’s not my way.” With that, he grabbed Adrienne by the arm. She yelped as he pulled her from the carriage.
“Now, I’m afraid,” Edward shouted, “We must make a trade. My child for your beloved woman.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-229? If so, you can read them here.
Barbara Allen shrieked as she stumbled away from Charles. He caught her before she could fall backwards. Her speech was incomprehensible as she peered at Charles through tear-blurred eyes. She babbled viciously, her grief making her at once fierce and vulnerable, wild and weak.
