16
Barkis
Barkis stepped off the boat in an unfamiliar town, clutching a single pack that held all of his belongings. Perhaps it was here that his luck would change, where he would finally obtain the riches he deserved, to compensate for all of the difficulties he had endured in his life.
This town was edged by a thick forest. The buildings were old and darkly colored, gothic in design. Cobblestones paved the streets and occasionally carriages bumped along them. Although it was spring, the sky was a stubborn gray, threatening rain. Barkis shivered in the chill air. His clothes were threadbare and he didn't have much money. Whatever lodgings he found would have to be extremely inexpensive.
Still, he was used to living like this. He traveled from town to town, sometimes even leaving the country for months at a time. Once in a while he worked odd jobs but he usually found ways to use his innate charm to swindle folks out of their money, a skill he had honed over the years.
Barkis had grown up in an orphanage. As a boy, he often wandered the streets, searching for food and other things to steal.
One memory from his childhood continued to haunt him. Even now, as he strolled through this new town, he struggled to force it back. It had been a cold, rainy day when he was eight. The wind whipped icy droplets at him, stinging his skin through his thin, tattered clothes. He was soaked and cold water oozed from the holes in his shoes.
He slipped and landed in a slick patch of mud. As he was struggling to pull himself up, only to fall again, he heard laughter.
A group of young women were climbing out of a carriage. Their gowns were of thick velvet and fur coats draped their shoulders. Each one was holding an umbrella.
"What a funny sight he is," one giggled.
Barkis glared at her and her companions.
"Don't look at us that way," another mocked in a scolding tone. "We are your betters and could have you arrested for that if we want." Still laughing, they turned and strode up a path leading to a large house.
A burning rage filled Barkis. They would be treated to warm fires, hot baths and delicious meals. He only had to look forward to stale bread and his space on a cold, hard floor of the orphanage. What did they ever do to deserve such luxury?
"I'll get even with you all someday," he whispered as he pulled himself from the mud and dashed away.
As Barkis grew older, he became a leader among the other boys at the orphanage and encouraged many to go out and help him steal. Even after he left the orphanage, he had gathered a band of boys to steal things for him and would often beat those who didn't return with the goods.
A queer flush of triumph flooded Barkis as he remembered how one of the boys had died when he had dealt him a hearty blow to the head. He had stared down at the child's lifeless body in momentary shock. That feeling passed quickly when he realized that it didn't matter. The boy was expendable. He wouldn't get into any kind of trouble for killing him. No one cared about poor orphans. "Let that be an example to the rest of you," he had said to the others who were cowering in fear. He enjoyed the power this gave him.
He eventually found that he was an excellent actor and didn't need others to steal for him. This gift enabled him to charm strangers and dupe them out of their money. It was around that time that he had a brief romance with a young woman named Diana. Her family was fairly wealthy and he had planned to use that to his advantage. But she quickly jilted him when she met an affluent gentleman. Barkis' hatred of rich young women deepened even more. He despised their greed, their arrogance, their inability to appreciate the privileges they had been born into.
It had been over five years since he had courted Diana, when he was barely twenty, but the memory of her still burned.
"The Spring Festival is tonight!" A booming voice, accompanied by loud jangling, jolted Barkis from his disturbing thoughts. A town crier in a hat and trench coat stood before him, ringing a bell. Struggling not to rip that irritating bell from the man's hand, Barkis strode away. "Right here in the town square at eight o'clock sharp!" the crier's voice called after him, echoing against the dreary edifices.
Barkis continued through town, searching for a place where he could stay and get cleaned up. A festival? That could give him a chance to meet potential victims, people he could swindle. His best suit, which was stuffed into his pack, was threadbare but it would have to do.
As he passed a shop with a sign that read "Van Dort's Fish," a small, dark-haired boy in shabby clothes nearly ran into him. A scruffy dog bounded by his side.
"Watch where you're going," Barkis grumbled. He despised children unless he could use them to his advantage. He briefly wondered if the child was an orphan.
"S-sorry, sir," the boy stammered, staring up at Barkis with wide brown eyes. He slowly backed away. The dog growled. Barkis fought an urge to kick it.
"Victor!" The boy turned at the sound of that name. A plump young woman was calling to him from the door of the shop. "Stop playing with that dog for just a moment and come in here and help your father."
"Come on, Scraps," the child murmured to the dog in his shy voice as he raced into the shop. Scraps followed at his heels.
Barkis continued on, encountering mostly somber looking people who were dressed as drearily as the cloud-soaked sky overhead, until he found himself in an upscale neighborhood. His interest was piqued. Wealthy people did live in this town. That was promising. He passed a tall, harsh-looking woman with a prominent chin. She was closely followed by a little girl who appeared to be no older than five. The child was quite pretty with large eyes and brown hair tightly pulled back into a bun. She looked like a miniature woman in a long, high-collared dress.
"Stand up straight, Victoria," the woman hissed at the child. "And don't drag your feet. Take smaller steps."
Barkis smiled to himself. Perhaps those noble women don't have such easy lives after all. Not if they have mothers like that!
After he found lodging in a run-down boarding house, he put on his best suit and hat and found his way to the town square to attend the Spring Festival. Lights were strewn everywhere but their glows were dim and flickering, weaving haunting shadows over everything. The place was bustling with the same gloomy people he had seen on the streets and somber music played.
Plans churned in Barkis' mind. Who can I swindle for some extra cash? he wondered, looking around.
One young woman caught his eye. She stood out from the other girls who were garbed in drab, high-collar gowns of muted shades. Her dress was a pale, bright purple and it came slightly off the shoulders. And while they all wore their hair in identical tight buns, hers flowed loose and was woven with violets. It spilled past her slender waist, a shining fall of black silk that held a blue sheen. Her face was delicately heart-shaped and dominated by enormous eyes that matched her hair. She had full red lips and cheeks that glowed with a vibrant pink.
Barkis felt a twisting within his chest as he stared at her. She was the most beautiful girl here, the most beautiful one he'd ever seen. His heart grew rapid when he saw her look in his direction. She actually smiled at him. Not a grin of mockery or a look of distain, as others had given him when they noticed his threadbare suit, but a smile of genuine friendliness.
"That's Emily Nightingale," one of the young men whispered to him. "Don't get your hopes up. She hasn't found a suitor she's liked yet. Her father is a successful businessman and is one of the wealthiest men in town. But it is rumored that much of that money came from her mother's side."
Barkis brushed at his hopeless suit and stepped toward her. Be confident, he thought. You have charmed women like her before, if only briefly. He forced back thoughts of Diana, afraid the rage would show on his face.
"Emily Nightingale?" he said, tipping his hat and slightly bowing to her. Her smile was infectious. "I'm new in town and wanted to make your acquaintance. My name is Barkis Bittern." He wondered if he should have given an alias. Perhaps it didn't matter. No one here knew who he was.
"Where do you come from, Mr. Bittern?"
"Call me Barkis," he said, grinning "Here and there. I never had a family so I've spent much of my life traveling. I just returned from an excursion to Africa."
"That sounds exciting!" Emily's eyes brightened. "I've lived here all of my life but someday I hope to leave and move far, far away."
"Is everyone always this gloomy here?" Barkis asked. "I thought this was supposed to be a celebration but it seems more like a funeral."
Emily laughed, a lilting, musical sound. "Pretty much."
A light, misting rain began to fall, brushing against Barkis' face and dusting his clothes with moisture. Droplets settled on Emily's hair and lashes. She sighed and lifted her face to the sprinkles, as if enjoying the sensation. Most of the other townspeople scurried for cover.
"It looks like the festivities are already breaking up," said Barkis. "I'll walk you home if you wish."
"Thank you. I'll show you a short cut to my house through the woods."
She led him from the town square, over a bridge. Dark, sullen waters flowed beneath. An old gray church stood off to one side in the distance.
As they entered the forest, the thick branches of the trees blocked out most of the rain. The air was heavy with the scents of pine and moisture. Occasionally Barkis could hear the cry of a raven from overhead. Emily led him past a gnarled oak tree with twisted roots and around several gray slabs that turned out to be tombstones. A look of melancholy rippled across her face.
"What's wrong?" asked Barkis.
"My mother is buried here," she said softly. "She died when I was ten, nearly a decade ago."
"I'm sorry." Barkis put as much sincerity into his voice as he could manage. "That must have been difficult for you. I never even knew my parents. They passed away when I was small and I grew up in an orphanage."
"That's awful." She took his hand and held it tightly.
Barkis felt a queer stirring within. She was different than the other affluent young women he had ever come across. Her kindness seemed genuine. Would it be possible to get close enough to her to where he could get his hands on some of her family's fortune?
He pondered these thoughts as they walked a ways in silence.
Emily's home was a vast mansion that stood at the edge of the forest. The rain had thankfully stopped but the foggy sky threatened more.
"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked, looking concerned.
Barkis eyed her home with longing but forced himself to smile and nod. The accommodations that she could offer would be much better than those he had but he refused to appear overly needy. If he played this right, some of her family's riches would eventually be his. "Oh yes. It's not too far from here," he lied, knowing he'd have to trek back several blocks to the shabby side of town. "I'll be fine."
"Thank you for walking me home. Would you like to meet my father tomorrow evening? I'm sure he will like you." A tinge of doubt seemed to soften her voice.
"Your father didn't come to the festival?"
Emily shook her head. "He doesn't get out much, not since Mother died. All he's really interested in is work. He's probably still working now, shut away in his office." Her tone was tinged with bitterness. "I doubt he even knows I left the house." She leaned forward and kissed Barkis on the cheek. "I'll meet you here tomorrow evening then?"
"It would be my pleasure."
Barkis' mind churned as he strode back to the boardinghouse through poorly lit, nearly empty streets. If I could get this Miss Nightingale to fall in love with me, even eventually agree to marry me, I could persuade her to hand over some of her family fortune, he thought. I wouldn't have to pick-pocket or trick people for small change. I could finally be rich! But I don't want to get married. That would interfere too much with my lifestyle, my travels. I'd have to dispose of Emily in some way…
Nerves twittered through Barkis as he made his way up to the Nightingale mansion the following evening. He took a deep breath as he rang the bell.
He heard clattering footsteps, then a musical voice that he recognized. "That's all right, Geoffrey. I'll get it."
Emily opened the door. Her hair was still loose but today she was garbed in a blue dress that was slightly more traditional than the one she had worn last night. "Hello, Barkis," she said, smiling. "Come in." A suited servant standing nearby glanced at Barkis and tilted his nose up. "That's Geoffrey, our butler. He doesn't seem to be in a friendly mood today." She giggled.
Barkis widened his eyes as he studied the vast rooms, the exquisite paintings, the hallways that seemed to stretch forever. Enormous, glittering chandeliers dripped from the ceilings. Yes, if I even had a fraction of this wealth, he thought, I could live quite comfortably for a long time.
Emily led him into a plush sitting room. James Nightingale, Emily's father, stood to greet Barkis. He was a handsome, middle-aged man, tall and dressed in an expensive suit. "So you're Barkis," he said, shaking Barkis' hand. "Emily couldn't stop talking about you last night."
Barkis didn't like the way man was looking at him. His brown eyes seemed to burrow into him, as if they could read his mind while taking note of his shabby attire. An uneasy feeling stirred in Barkis. Few people intimidated him but Mr. Nightingale had a confidence that was unnerving.
Nerves continued to tingle through him as he joined Emily and her father in an elegant dining room. The servants served first a salad, then soup, followed by a steaming fish dinner.
"That's Van Dort's finest," one of the servants said, setting the plate in front of Barkis. "Everyone predicts that their business will do quite well in the years to come."
Barkis fumbled with the silverware, continually glancing over at Emily to see which fork she was using. Although this was the best food that he had tasted in a long time, he found that he could barely enjoy it since James continued to pester him with questions.
"Where have you worked? What are your future goals?"
"Father!" Emily chided. "Can't you let him enjoy his meal?"
"I just want to know more about the young man who is interested in courting you. I—"
"It's all right," Barkis said, forcing into his voice the charm that had swindled others. "He has the right to know. I was a university student, sir," he lied, "but I decided to take time off for a while to see the world. I want to do that while I am young. And it would be nice to eventually have someone to share it with." He looked at Emily who blushed. "Once I have done all that, then I will finish school and find a suitable profession. But I promise that the woman I marry will be well taken care of."
"I see," James said, stroking his chin. His gaze never left Barkis' face for the rest of the meal.
"I'd like to play something for you," Emily said after dinner, taking Barkis' hand and leading him into the parlor. An enormous grand piano stood in the center of the room. "It's a song I recently composed."
Emily settled onto the bench. Her graceful hands glided effortlessly across the keys, weaving a rippling, upbeat melody. Barkis, who had never cared for music, found himself entranced. Emily's tune filled him with a queer joy and renewed his confidence, something he felt he'd lost in the presence of Mr. Nightingale.
"Emily takes after her mother," James whispered to Barkis, a glow of pride brightening his eyes. "I never did have much of an ear for music."
But once Emily had finished, his expression changed back into one of condemnation. He grabbed Barkis by the arm and practically dragged him to the front door.
"Father, what are you doing?" Emily's voice echoed down the hallway.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bittern," he said, shaking Barkis' hand, then giving him a gentle push out the door. "I wish you well in your endeavors." He closed the door in Barkis' face.
Barkis stood there for several moments, anger racing through him until he trembled. Ruined. His plans were shattered. Mr. Nightingale hated him.
This is so typical of the rich, he thought bitterly as he began to stride down the walkway. They think they're so much better than everyone else and look down on the less fortunate, never think to give them a chance.
That was a good plan, though. Perhaps I should just move on to the next town and—
"Barkis!" He heard Emily's whispered voice, felt her slender hand on his arm. She was slightly out of breath and her cheeks were flushed an even richer pink. Her large night-blue eyes glinted. "Please forgive my father. I shouldn't have brought you here. He'll never change." Her voice was harsh with bitterness. "He's been terrible ever since Mother died, always scolding me whenever I made friends with someone he didn't approve of but completely ignoring me the rest of the time. Mother was never like that."
"But perhaps I could still see you," Barkis said, his hope renewed. "We could meet somewhere in secret."
"Yes! That's a wonderful idea." Emily grew thoughtful for a moment. Sadness clouded her beautiful face. "Why don't we meet near the cemetery at the edge of the woods, by that old oak tree we passed last night on the way back from the festival."
"Are you sure your father won't find us?"
Emily shook her head. "Not there. That's where Mother is buried." Her voice sunk into a tearful whisper. "He refuses to ever go near there. It's too painful, he claims. He's hidden everything that reminds him of her."
"That's sad," Barkis said, feigning sincerity. A small part of him felt a flicker of sympathy but he forced it back. This girl has everything, he thought. Yet she misses her mother and is resentful of her distant father. Who cares! If I had all that wealth, I wouldn't need anyone. "Let's meet tomorrow night, after midnight."
"Perfect!" Emily gasped.
"I'll see you then, Miss Nightingale," Barkis said, kissing her gloved hand.
"Emily, please."
"Emily." He nodded and tipped his hat.
Barkis and Emily met by the oak tree over the next few nights. They would look at the stars and talk.
"My father may be strict and distant but at least he doesn't disprove of my singing, dancing and piano playing," Emily said one night. "Most of my friends are forbidden to do those things, which their parents claim is improper for young women. I'd like to leave this town someday and see the world and perhaps even dance or play the piano professionally." She giggled. "I've never told anyone those dreams. Most of the townspeople would be shocked. Young women here are expected to keep silent and spend their days at needlepoint and other such tasks. And when they do marry, it is assumed that they will immediately start having children. All the young men in this town expect their future wives to be just like that. Some are even betrothed to people their parents have chosen." She shuddered. "Luckily Father doesn't believe in arranged marriages. I would like a family eventually but just not right away."
Barkis took her hands. "I promise, if we marry, I would show you the world." He smiled as he saw Emily's eyes brighten. "And you could do all of those things that you dream of."
I should propose to her soon, he thought later as he returned to his dismal room. I don't want to linger too long in this town and Emily does seem ready.
"Father doesn't suspect anything," Emily said the following night as she danced gracefully about in the light of a nearly full moon. Barkis watched her, momentarily enthralled. Her rose-colored gown and long sweeping hair flowed with her movements. "Mother taught me to dance," she said, settling onto the grass and motioning Barkis to join her. "She taught me so many things. I miss her."
"I'm sure you do." He took her hand. "But you are fortunate that you at least knew her."
Emily gasped. "I'm sorry. That's selfish of me. I keep forgetting that you never knew your parents. That must be difficult. But you still manage to live such an exciting life. I admire that."
"Yes. That is true." He grinned. "You are fortunate that you had been born to such a wealthy family," he said truthfully. "It wasn't easy growing up poor and orphaned but somehow I managed. And here I am, courting the most beautiful woman in the land."
Emily looked down and flushed.
A butterfly, its wings blue but silver-tinged with moonlight, fluttered by. What was a butterfly doing out this late at night? Barkis wondered. He raised a hand to shoo it away—he didn't like flying insects, not even butterflies—but Emily held hers out. The creature landed lightly in her palm.
"I often see these butterflies around here, even in winter," she said. "I know it might sound strange but I've sometimes thought that they are a part of my mother. I wonder if she still watches over me." She released the butterfly. It floated upon the air like a solitary leaf and disappeared past the branches of the trees. Emily lay back onto the grass and stared up at the moon. "I wonder what really happens after we die. Do you ever think about that, Barkis?"
"All the time. But I prefer to focus on life for now." He swallowed. Was it too early to do this? Would it ruin my plans? "Especially our lives…together."
Emily rapidly sat back up, her moonlight-filled eyes brilliant. "Barkis, what are you saying?"
He cleared his throat and forced his voice to sound as sincere as possible. "Emily, I don't have much. Not even a ring to give you but I promise, when we are married, I will take you on my adventures. We can follow our own dreams, without anyone telling us what to do. If you will marry me."
"Barkis!" Tears were trickling down Emily's cheeks but she was smiling. She threw herself into his arms. "Of course. I accept."
Barkis kissed her lips, tasted the faint salt of her tears.
Emily drew back suddenly and looked down. "Still, I'll have to tell Father. It will be difficult convincing him."
Barkis could feel his anger rising but he held it back. If anyone could ruin his plans, it would be Emily's father. A brief image of him running a knife through the man's chest flashed through his mind. He was about to suggest to Emily that they elope but then thought the better of it. He didn't want to sound too eager. Let her go and talk to her father who would most likely say no. After that he could suggest elopement. That would be best. That way he wouldn't have to go through the whole charade of a marriage ceremony before killing Emily. He could meet her late at night and accomplish the job quickly and neatly.
"Just talk to your father and tell him how you feel," he said, placing a hand on Emily's shoulder. "He seems like a decent man. I'm sure he wants the best for you."
Emily smiled weakly. "I hope so."
Barkis stood and helped her up. "It's getting late. I'll walk you home. Let me know what he says when we meet here again tomorrow night," he said as they drew close to her home.
"I will." She kissed him and dashed toward the mansion.
The next evening, Barkis arrived at the oak tree early. He grinned to himself when he saw Emily approach. Her head was down and she looked unhappy. That could only mean that her father had denied their plans. That was to be expected. Still, all the better.
Barkis embraced and kissed her. "So," he said, struggling to feign innocence. "Did you get your father's permission? Are we to be married?"
Emily avoided his gaze. "No." Her voice was a faint whisper.
Barkis gently pushed back wisps of shining blue-black hair from her eyes. She looked up at him. "That doesn't matter. We can still elope."
"Elope!" she gasped. "No. I-I couldn't. That's not how I'd imagined my wedding."
"No, it's perfect." Barkis paced. He had worked out this plan last night but pretended to think. "We won't tell a soul. You must promise to keep this a secret. We can get married as soon as possible—that's the main thing, isn't it?" He grasped Emily's hands. She nodded and smiled. "Here's the plan. We'll meet here tomorrow night, just as we always do. From here we will go to the nearest church and get married. After that we will head out on our first adventure. Once we have seen the world, we can then settle down in a beautiful country house and raise a family." Perfect! he thought. These are all the things Emily had claimed she wanted. Tears shimmered in her beautiful eyes. "I know how much you would want that. Wear your prettiest dress. And take whatever money and jewels you can."
"Why?" Emily dropped his hands and stepped back as if he had bitten her.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "My dear, we will need those," he said in the most dulcet tone he could manage. "That is your dowry and it should be mine—ours to share." He mentally scolded himself for that slip of the tongue. Idiot! You'll ruin everything. "It will help us get started in our lives, that's all," he added hurriedly.
He was relieved when he saw Emily nodding. She didn't seem to notice his mistake. "Perhaps you're right."
The next evening in his tiny boardinghouse room, Barkis mentally went over his plans. The only weapon he owned was a stick that he'd kept from the days when he used to force small boys to steal for him. It was thick and solid. He'd given several beatings with that stick and remembered the boy he had killed by bashing him on the forehead. Would that work on a grown woman? He couldn't afford to purchase a musket or sword and it was too risky to steal a weapon. Even the kitchen knives in that boarding house were dull. The stick would have to do.
But what if Emily didn't show up with the goods? Should he then marry her and hope to get the fortune at a later date? Barkis felt he had to be prepared for that since Emily seemed to be an honest girl. Still, she did resent her father. That could work to my advantage, he thought, lying back on his flimsy cot and closing his eyes. Just a short nap. Then I'll meet with Emily for the last time and start my life as a rich man…
His eyes flew open. It was completely dark outside, the moon hidden. He looked through the window. A thick fog blanketed everything. He flipped on a light and looked at the old clock hanging on the wall. It was a little after two-thirty in the morning.
Cursing to himself, Barkis scrambled up, threw on a hooded cloak and grabbed his stick.
He raced through the slick, dark streets, toward the cemetery. He doubted Emily would still be there. She probably went home hours ago, angry and frustrated. He formed fake apologies in his mind and promises to marry her the following night if she had.
He slowed as he reached the forest and, stepping carefully around upright tombstones, peered through the trees. It was foggy here as well but he could make out a slender, solitary form pacing beside the oak tree and shivering.
Barkis froze, his grip tight on the stick. Emily was garbed in a shimmering wedding gown. It left her shoulders bare and the bodice was snug, emphasizing her statuesque figure. A long train trailed gracefully behind. On her head was a circlet of pink and white flowers. A gauzy veil gently misted her hair.
He felt his nerve fade. She's so beautiful. Wouldn't everyone adore me if I had such a gorgeous wife?
His eyes settled on the jewels sparkling at her neck and drifted to a fat satchel that lay at the tree's roots, next to a flower bouquet. Her father's gold? It had to be!
Barkis stepped slowly toward her and stiffened as he brushed against a low-hanging branch, creating a rustling sound.
Emily stopped pacing and looked in his direction. He slid behind a tree. "Barkis?" she called.
He stiffened and struggled to quiet his breathing. It's best if I sneak up on her. At least it's rather foggy, he thought, creeping closer and watching for any other branches.
"Barkis," Emily called again as he drew close to her. He pulled his hood forward, hoping she wouldn't see his face. She turned and screamed, a sound that seemed to throb through the forest and echo against the tombstones.
Barkis swung the stick as hard as he could, striking the side of her head. He dredged up thoughts of those rich women laughing at him as he'd struggled in the mud as a child. They are all the same, he kept telling himself. All the same. I'd kill them all for their fortunes if I could. They don't deserve them. He felt a momentary satisfaction at the sickening sound of the stick hitting her skull.
Emily staggered but didn't fall. Barkis reeled in momentary shock as she stumbled toward him, apparently slightly dizzy from the blow, and pushed him. She's a feisty one, he thought with fleeting admiration. So unlike most of the soft-spoken young women in this place. "Go away!" she shrieked. "I'm waiting for someone." Barkis felt himself smile. She doesn't know it's me. "He'll be here any minute. He'll—"
"Will he now?" he hissed, keeping his voice low so she wouldn't recognize it. He swung the stick again but she dodged it by dropping to the ground.
Barkis cursed under his breath. How could he have become so clumsy? What if Emily got away? At least she doesn't know it's me.
She was groping around on the ground, searching for something.
Barkis drew back the stick and hit her even harder. She crumpled onto the damp ground. He felt triumph rise up within him. Who's fallen in the mud now? he wanted to sneer, imaging that Emily was one of those girls from long ago who'd mocked a poor, mud-covered urchin…
But Emily would never do something like that…
Of course she would, Barkis tried to convince himself. Those rich girls are all the same underneath and think only of themselves.
She lay still. Had he killed her? He looked closely. She twitched slightly, as if trying to move.
He reached down, grasped her shoulders, and roughly turned her over. Her face was smeared with blood and tears.
Barkis raised his stick and brought it down hard, as hard as he could.
A surge of euphoria passed through him as he heard a cracking sound. Her eyes focused on him for an instant, shimmering briefly in the moonlight that had emerged, and then fell closed.
He dropped the stick and continued to stare at her, searching for movement, any sign of life.
She lay perfectly still. Not even her chest stirred. A nasty bruise was starting to form in the middle of her forehead where he'd struck her. She looked beautiful, lying there in that white wedding gown, her lustrous hair fanned out along the ground, her long lashes curled upon her cheeks. The color was fading from those cheeks. A subtle bluish tinge was creeping over her alabaster skin.
"Sleep well, my dear," Barkis mocked as he ripped the jeweled necklace from her throat.
He then scurried over to the satchel and opened it. A rush of joy filled him as he poured some of the gold coins into his palm.
The plan worked! he thought. I'm finally rich. Rich enough to pass myself off as a lord, perhaps. But I'd best leave this place for a while. Her father would certainly suspect me if her body is found…
Using his hands and the stick, he dug a shallow grave and pulled Emily's body into it. He tossed in the bouquet, heaped dirt over her and patted it down.
I may return years later, he thought, turning to leave with his treasures in hand. When the money runs out. I've had much luck in this town. But for now I'll travel far away from here, in style.
The mists were gradually lifting and the first gray light of dawn was tingeing the horizon as Barkis headed toward the docks to catch the first boat leaving.