A twist in Wives and Daughters. Mr. Gibson fanfic. I own nothing! Enjoy!
Chapter 1 Prologue
Mrs. Hamley, married to Squire Hamley, sat on the bench beneath the apple tree not to far from the house, Hamley Hall. She was a middle aged woman prone to illness but the fresh air was really reviving her to her former self. She was glad she had a caring, if somewhat gruff, husband, but the Squire really did love her. He was always worried if she caught the mildest of colds and often sent for Mr. Gibson, the doctor.
As much as she loved her husband, her two darling boys,and the house provided for her, Mrs. Hamley relished in the quiet evening air. There was a light breeze that ruffled the apple blossoms and scented the air with there sweet fragrance. She gazed out into the purple hue of the setting sun so very far to the east. In that moment she was truly contented with her live but times like these did not come often. She was happy for the most part but she longer for the excitement of town and that was not to be had in the country. If only the Squire would come with to London for only a few months out of the year she would have been pleased but he did not. He did how ever let her go alone but when she retuned he did not let her talk of the wonderful and joyful times she had. It really broke her heart to hear him speak so but she held her tongue as not to anger him. There were other woman, in the town not far from Hamley Hall, but none she took a great liking to because not one had a single original thought. That vexed Mrs. Hamley to no end. She longed for fresh conversation that had not been tainted with the groveling sweetness all her woman visitors bestowed on her. She longed to be in the company of people(weather she be higher or lower in authority) to be able to look, talk,and treat each other as equals. Not to have them agreeing with every word she said simply because it was expected. Mrs. Hamley sat thinking about these things and it was making her sick, if not physically then mentally. She longed to break free of the rapidity that her day to day life had become.
In the western part of the sky stars stared popping up. The air was starting yo get a little colder and the lone figure on the bench rapped her shawl around herself more securely. Lost in thought she got up from her resting place and started towards the house when she was brought to a dead halt. To be sure there were no clouds in the sky but what made her stop was the defending sound of thunder. Her legs trembled as blinding white light, such as she had never seen before, made her shield her eyes. She could not see, she was momentarily blinded. The light faded and Mrs Hamley became once more accustomed to the semi-darkness. What she saw made her heart stop again. There not far from the apple tree lay a figure that had certainly not been there before. Cautiously she approached the still figure. As she drew near she saw,in the dim light of the fading evening, a large bag lying a few feet from the figures hand. Scattered around the bag, lay books, string, paper, and small stick like things. She let her eyes wonder over the still figure and was overcome with how strange he was dressed. He had on what looked like a man's shirt, but instead of the usual long sleeves and the frills at the wrists, his was cut of half way between shoulder and elbow. And he had on breaches that were covered in buttons and what looked like pocket. But she forgot about all these things when the stranger, sensing her presence, whispered in a hoarse, barley audible, "Please. Help."
The fear in the voice would hunt her for the rest of her life. But somehow she knew it did not come from the fear of dying, but from the fear of not being able to live. She ran to his side, calling for anyone to come and help her, and turned him over. His head resting in her hand she saw that he was unconscious. The first thing Mrs. Hamley noticed was the blood. It was everywhere. There was dried blood in his hair, matting together the unusually long strans. Caked on his face mixed with the fresh blood flowing from his nose. The blood that seeped from the gashes on this neck were soaked up by the pearly white shirt, staining it red where neck disappeared into the shoulders. There was a huge red stain in the middle of his chest, caused by god knows was, and as Mrs Hamley watched, to her horror it slowly grew larger.
Mrs. Hamley saw all this in a few seconds, which felt like eternity, called for help louder and more frantic. She was heard by the maid servant who came running from the library window, thinking her mistress was hurt. The maid took one horrified look turned and went screaming into the house. Mrs. Hamley barley heard her for she was staring at the scarlet stain that grew menacingly, claiming this poor fellows life. She faintly heard foot steps running, people yelling, drawing closes to where she sat cradling his head, but still she could not tear here eyes from his chest, not transfixed at the growing puddle of blood as before, but at the faint yet unmistakable curve of a bosom. Mrs. Hamley's last thought before blackness carried her away "My god, it's a women!"