Author's Note: This is part of a series, "Miracles, " exploring the unanswered questions and story "holes" around "Commeth the Archer." There will be a set of three chapters with separate points of view: Eva Pearce; William and Julia, all action surrounding the Finale of Season 9. This one is going to be on the dark side….
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Miracles: Descent into Hell
***E. D. P. *** p. 76
Dear Diary:
My ears are still ringing-but, oh that was so worth it!
Nothing in my life up to this point, was as thrilling and satisfying as THAT sound. No conquest, no LOVER ever took me to such immediate heights of ecstasy. I trembled, my heart thudding in my chest in triumph, beholding the sight in front of me.
So much blood… simply WONDERFUL!
She came to the door totally unaware and carelessly opened it right up, wrinkling patrician displeasure down her long, pale nose when no cart and tray magically appeared in the hallway bearing breakfast for such a fine lady of leisure. A dowdy, flat chested stick she is, hardly a female curve on her… how pathetically unattractive in the morning light! Really, what an absolute fright! Some people should know better than to show their face without hair & makeup in place, especially when they are getting OLDER? Didn't her mother ever teach her anything about keeping a man?
And what a dull-witted, gawping expression on her face as I raised the pistol and fired! Thenshe noticed me…. Oh YES! I saw that perfect moment of recognition I relish—that point when the other person actually sees me for the first time, when the whole world tilts & they are too late to stop the slide. I saw it in HER - the sharp stab of failure & pure terror in her eyes, giving me such delicious pleasure to know I put it there. Failure because she was stupid enough to think she could ever predict me, ever escape me; fear because she was powerless & knew she was going to DIE at my hands! I took great delight in making sure she knew it was ME. I was getting revenge on her & Iwas going to WIN!
I was so giddy my finger kept pulling the trigger twice more for good measure.
The only, slightest, hitch in my plan was that My William was in the room with her instead of at Mass where he belonged. Why was he not at Church? I was just standing there for a moment gloating, when I was taken by awkward surprise. He raced out of the doorway & fell to his knees next to her… as if he actually cared about her. What was he DOING there? How did he misread my message to him…the Sweet William flowers on his dinner tray Saturday night? My heart stopped for a moment when he looked right at me, his gorgeous brown eyes taking me in, disguised as I was in a maid's uniform. Then he asked for help! My help!
That was a close call.
I have always been a master at giving others what they wanted to see, wanted to hear. I have been a mimic since I was small & I used to make my mother laugh when I pretended to be someone else…at least she used to laugh before the BASTARD…...
I can change my appearance, attitude, my face even, just by the smallest margin—a gesture, a slant of my head, fling of my shawl, the setting of my mouth & then…. I am someone else. In a hotel that was SO easy. Servants are anonymous & invisible…no one makes eye contact with them & the toffs treat them if they are completely interchangeable…Ideal for my purposes, so dressed as one I could slip around anywhere I wanted. If I looked familiar to anyone at all it was because it was me who handed out newspapers yesterday, brought up linen the day before, head demurely down with a smart curtsey while taking the role so completely & seamlessly I blended into the anaglyptic-pasted wall.
But when My William took the newspaper yesterday it was very different: I just knew he sensed it was me! A subtle nod, the way he said "thank you" just for my ears, placing the penny just so in my palm, all the while keeping up a distracted pretense for an audience of passersby in the hallway… It sent a shockwave through me, confirming everything I suspected: He has been merely WAITING to be rescued from her clutches. It was the signal he would be ready!
When he sent me to summon help, I realize he was PROTECTING me, giving misdirection away from me as a suspect. What a clever man! My William…such a good actor! I have seen him before, pretending to be upset or annoyed, or pretending to be calm and mild. I always knew he was capable of putting on an act—how else could he have fooled so many people into not seeing the REAL MAN underneath? The man I KNOW is there?
And who would think the young woman flying down the stairs had a small pistol in her pocket, & had done the deed? I even put my hand across my face in mock horror, opening my big eyes so wide as my feet trotted quickly away, looking for all the world as if I would pass out from being overwrought when what I really needed was to hide my excited giggle.
As soon as I got to the tradesman's entrance, I pressed my back gratefully against the wall & could laugh out loud in glee. In no time I was out the door, sliding a coat over my uniform & exchanging the maid's bun and cap for my own hair and hat, free to stroll down the lane at my leisure. Extraordinary!
Some part of me knew from the first moment I saw William that he was special. I cannot really explain it—I felt a jolt in me, so intense that I did not immediately understand what it meant, other than leaving me breathless & confused. I had never been confused before by my feelings about a man, any man. MEN are not very complicated & after all they are my specialty. Men are really so easy when you think about it: even the so called best of them are vain, insecure, & greedy. I lure them in, I entice, I seduce, & I flatter or simper, whatever is necessary. Once aroused, I have them: they react in such predicable ways… & anyone who is predictable can be manipulated-don't they know that? It is simple, really, but hard to do very well. And I do it so very, very well.
I can always tell when a man desires me. I can take a man to his limits, have him beg for release & give or withhold what he thinks he can no longer live without, in exchange for whatever I want. I learned long ago that it never pays to actually let them have me… I have known that since I turned the tables on that BASTARD when I was twelve & it has usually given me a life of luxury…That is once I figured out that a rich man was as easy a target as a poor one—easier perhaps since the rich ones get over-confident & complacent. I read their secrets. I know them better than they know themselves—their weaknesses, their desires ...the ones they whisper only to themselves in their dreams, especially the ones they hide from their so-called friends and bland families... I know what they genuinely crave, particularly the things they try to hide from themselves… I read all about it in those dull and boring psychology books when I was in the asylum, to see if there was something new I needed to know. All rubbish and overblown, I tell you. Why so many big words for something so elemental as sexual desire?
Only I can give men what they truly want, all the while they know nothing about the real me, never care probably, so wrapped up in their selfishness. Serves them right! None of THEM ever picked up on the sheer contempt I have for the silly sods, to be lead around by their pricks….So if they are foolish how is that my fault? If they wanted to keep their money…. or their lives… they should have been more careful. They were just begging for what I have, begging to give things to me—How can I refuse?
But MY William! Ah, he was different somehow. He was never so OBVIOUS as the others. He seemed to challenge me, match wits with me. ME! It was thrilling. I never had that happen to me before— I never felt, well…I never felt anything at all, before. A man might be pleasant or dull, physically attractive or grotesque-it was all the same to me. I was never interested in them, never dreamed about them, was never…aroused by any of them in the slightest, although I can give a good show. I enjoyed the game & the power. It never occurred to me I might actually want one…
Until I met My William. He is utterly unlike any man I ever met—so serious, so focused, so buttoned up on the outside. While I am irresistible to men, I found William irresistible to me, while he pretended to be uninterested. I am not sure if it was the first time he looked deeply into my eyes, pushing me so intensely & forcefully that I started to wonder. When we first sparred across that table in the police station, had our back and forth exchange...well it was so surprising to me, so exhilarating! He actually saw ME! Shocking! I dreamed about it for weeks afterwards.
And oh…he tried to hide it, probably as overwhelmed as I was by the magnitude of our attraction. No real man likes to be out of control, at least not at first. Until he gets used to it… As a gentleman, William cannot give into his feelings so easily, & certainly not with that harpy of a wife around. She must have neutered him somehow, my poor lamb… an ice Queen keeping a King in check. There is no other explanation. All that vibrant masculinity, broad shoulders, trim waist & hips, chiseled face—his eyes! All going to waste on a cold, dispassionate fish. If he was happy with her, enjoying the marriage bed as he should, she would have been pregnant long ago. I suspect he is bored with her tepid personality, trapped in a loveless, passionless existence. Or, perhaps she is barren as well as unable to satisfy him...
She probably never even allowed the marriage to be consummated—why else would he need to adopt a child? She hurt him, hurt my William when he had to give up that child, that sweet little boy, Roland. What can he do? A Catholic may not divorce. But a widower can remarry…
That's when I knew I had to act. To SAVE him!
Just the way I KNEW he protected me today because he has protected me before. Of course, it took me a while to figure it out, like one of those puzzles he likes to solve. I had to turn it over in my mind a hundred times before I got it right… For instance when he cleared me in Jake Barker's murder, or when he had his Inspector steer that Eaton pup away from me…. It was only later I realized that was just my William's way of saving me for himself. And when my attorney pointed out to the crown prosecutor the evidence against me in Worthington's death was all circumstantial, it occurred to me my William might have withheld just a little something…. He was saving me again.
The clincher was at the asylum. He acknowledged our connection: "Miss Pearce, I know that you are as sane as I am. No need to try to convince me otherwise." I remember what he said exactly. He said we were the SAME. And then he chose me over her—ran after me like a hound on a hare. Then we kissed for the very first time! Oh! My mouth tingled, my lips burned! I nearly swooned. He must have felt it too, how could he not? Destiny brought is together. Then my William let me go for the third time, and sacrificed himself by going back to her so I could be on my way... what a brave and selfless thing for him to do for me…. How often did he dream of me, of my kiss?
Oh, how many years I wasted before putting it all together.
I cannot wait for us to be with each other. I have many skills for pleasuring a man. All the other men before him were just husks I used to refine my art. William will find there is nothing I will not do to bring him to his knees in burning lust, begging for me to take him in… & losing his mind when I do.
She was never right for him. She must have trapped him into marriage—who better than I would understand the wiles of women. She must have some horrid hold over him. With her out of the way we can be together the way destiny has proclaimed & I will show him what real love is. It is I, the Red Queen who will unleash his potential as a man & I who will enjoy his boundless gratitude for liberating him.
One part down with only a minor irritant to resolve: there still appears to be life in The Ogden, that tiresome wretch. I will wait here in my room opposite William's hotel using my little spyglass to good effect, until he comes back to his suite, & I will pay a little visit to the hospital.
Then, Dear Diary, I just have to get him out of Toronto…
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***E. D. P. *** p. 79
Dear Diary…
Well, THAT was interesting. I had hoped to be the one who personally snuffed out The Ogden's miserable existence—I was thinking smothering or even strangling actually, but that busy-body French woman was hovering. I did not expect anyone to be there to bother me, after getting rid of the constable outside the hospital room door. To my surprise this woman would not budge. At first I thought perhaps she was a nurse and would leave soon after doing her task, but it turned out she was some sort of church lady or nun or something, sent to watch over The Ogden's soul—as if that would make any difference! I just could not get her out of the room, no matter how much charm I used. I am not as good at charming women as I am their men… The good news is she told me the end was near— No last minute miracle is going to save her life. Marvelous! No one expects The Ogden to live. I don't care about killing her while she is in a coma and not aware of the death approaching. Where would the fun be in that?
So I am on to phase two: I have that dolt of a hotel porter convinced I am a spy in His Majesty's service, executing a daring rescue of the brave & valuable Detective Murdoch who needs to be spirited away from the hotel in a secret way that has to look like it was against his will so he can deny involvement in it…to protect his "cover". Idiot! The porter was so very simple to convince that I had to laugh.
I learned a thing or two from that tall, dark, oily Tommy Masters that William sent to find me. It was so thoughtful of William to check up on me like that-make sure I was safe & doing well, even if he could not contact me himself. I always knew when someone was gaining on me… I would sense someone stalking me, circling, asking too many question… I was always able to dance away before getting caught.
It took me a while before I realized it was my William searching for me…never letting go of me… always hoping I would return. Besides, I was the last women he really ever really kissed, and once his lips touched mine he could never go back. After a while it became exciting to guess who he sent and what they were up to. It DID surprise me William would choose such a …predatory individual as Mr. Masters, but perhaps that was supposed to be part of the fun, sending him to me as a sort of present to sharpen my wits. I did not even mind that Mr. Masters engaged me in helping to blackmail the Honourable Dr. Sheard into meeting with him. I don't know what he hoped to gain from that lump of a man, but Mr. Master's was absolutely correct that Charles Sheard has a weakness for a pretty face and long legs. Even so, I knew better than to stick around & get my promised reward—even if William trusts the man (I don't think his real name was Tommy Masters—him and his strong cigars and bushy eye brows over flat back eyes—I know those kind of eyes…) But I learned something more valuable than the promised reward: That the larger the lie, the more outlandish the tale, makes some people just suspend disbelief out of a desire for it to BE true. I always thought the lies needed to be subtle, disarming, plausible even… but Mr. Master's –or whomever he really is—showed me that people will fall for anything if they really, really want to, making them complicit in their own undoing!
I will not be writing for a while. The porter just gave me his signal that he gave the drugged tea to William and it has worked—pulling the window shade up and down twice to let me know William is fast asleep. I am abandoning this room and will meet the porter with another note before arranging to claim William for my own. Lately I have been dreaming of William, fantasizing about him making love to me...I can actually feel something when I imagine him sliding into me—that certainly never happened before! More proof that fate brought us together.
I have everything arranged. The Constabulary is called off—just saw them leaving by the front door—and I have a horse and cart stashed by the tradesman's entrance. Once the porter helps me put William in, he will go his way and I will go mine. I have him convinced that his silence is mandatory, can affect national security, and violating that "oath" I made him take would see him hanged. He even thinks I am coming back for him…silly cow. Who believes that sort of balderdash?
Wish me luck!
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***E. D. P. *** P. 82
Dear Diary:
Success! My William is here with me just a few feet away, sleeping peacefully! Now that I have had the time to study him closely, he is even more handsome than I remembered. I recall the first time I saw his smile. I caught him in a casual moment when he was unaware of being observed. Something amused him, bringing a wry, almost bashful grin to his face, utterly transforming him from strong & forbidding to…adorable. Just for me! From that moment I simply knew we were destined to be together.
I roused him enough to get him out of the tiny wagon, into the cabin and onto our bed before giving him more laudanum. He just must be so confused, poor lamb, no wonder he fought me a little. I will just let him sleep it off before making him a home-cooked meal. I hope he likes beef stew. What a treat that will be for him after all that hotel food. He looks a little puffy though…what was she feeding him? I will do better.
William will be so proud of me, I just know it. Look at all I did for him! It is too bad I had to dispose of that constable, but, really, he should have gone away like the others. How was I to know he would be there, poking into the laundry cart? He seemed surprised -suspicious more like it- that I was in William's rooms even though I still had the maid's dress on. He just would not take "I don't know" for an answer. It was a good thing he leaned over into the cart—I'd never have been able to hit him if he hadn't. Tipping William into the cart from his chair wasn't too difficult. Getting that red-haired constable into William's bed was a little harder, but I am strong and that is not the first body I had to hoist around in a bed…now is it? My William will understand.
In my experience, most men always tend to underestimate women—our physical strength, determination, intelligence… deviousness. Then again, most women are singularly weak and stupid—no imagination! My William knows that is not ME. I can't wait to have him in my arms, sharing everything our imaginations can think up. I am going to start a fire, perhaps get a romantic dinner set up. I even have a pretty night gown to tantalize him with.
I know what my William wants—I know the dark flash that is under his polished, masculine veneer…his sharp, angry, sarcastic, manipulative, powerful, sexual aspects. So much passion harnessed & leashed to keep it away from polite society. Might as well keep one of those sleek black panther cats I saw at the zoo once on a string, pacing back & forth & growling. He won't stay on the string for long! He will pounce and devour the unwary—ooooh I can't wait!
I am going to start by rendering him helpless, so that he will of course have to struggle against the restraints—that is how he will save face. But he will not be able to stop me, because in his heart he does not want to stop me. In his heart he wants to have me possess him utterly. I think I will start by arousing him while he still sleeps. I will show him how much I love him. That has always worked wonders for me before, but with William, I want more, I need more. I want to see and hear his love for me.
William is with me now. I am special to him in the way no one else has ever been, I feel it in my bones. I notice he never wore a wedding ring of hers. What more proof do I need that he did not allow her to claim him, that was waiting for me, only me?
William will wear MY ring. I think it is not too soon to plan our wedding. I wonder if I can wear white?
He just better appreciate what I have done for him. I don't want to have to hurt him…he needs me, and I will convince him of that. And, oh! I can't wait to see his face when he knows she is dead. He will be so relieved and grateful. She who thought she knew so much, understood so much. Miss High-and-Mighty who thought she could EVER comprehend the ins and outs of the human condition from her abstract, ivory-tower perch; certainly not the way in which I am capable. She had to go and try to learn what I have always known. Shenever had to live by her wits, never had any actual experience in the lives over which she passed her bitter judgment with her long words and haughty pronunciation.
Oh, no.
She was only ever a vulture, tearing into the gullible or weak…the ill, dying or dead, no matter what title by which called herself. Iam not weak; I have never been weak. Prey are weak.
It is I who am the Huntress: Eva Diana Pearce.
Soon to be Mrs. Murdoch!
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Dear Reader: more to come. I am trying to tell the whole unexplored/back story through a series of vignettes with overlapping & not necessarily consistent points of view. Next up: What was Julia thinking when she woke to rescue William? What did William believe was happening and how did he feel about it?