"Trust Him, my dear Child… or die."
{This is my first experience in writing fanfiction stories, and I apologize if my language seems awkward, I am not a native English speaker, but I simply love its beauty and expressiveness. I am also a big fan of Murder She Wrote, and I just can't hold myself from contributing a bit of my own plots for the original characters. I will be most grateful to hear your feedback.}
Chapter 1
Cold and snowless winter covered the beautiful tender lands of Bohemia. Bare trees were exposed to the early frost with a cruel and impassible touch of the inevitable void. Bleached grayness of the skies hung over the barren ground. The last bird had been long gone to the warm lands of distant South, before the sad matrimonial morning in Manetin.
Variegated onlookers were slowly gathering in front of the great old church of St. Barbara, in the eastern part of the town. Lazy guests have finally taken their places under the arches of the ancient Cathedral, joining the noble groom. Soon the church bell announced the forthcoming of the bride's carriage.
The wedding was quiet. Impish bystander would rather mess this distinctive gathering with doleful but necessary funeral of some local authority. A single white spot in front of the Altar was bound to stop one from final convictions - the new Lady to be, barely in her eighteen-s, had been just taken as a wife of marquis Charles Emmanuel Bolyer.
Trembling, pale with fright and determination, the young girl has held out her hand to a confident mature bachelor - the single living being around the whole Bohemia, blessed at this chilling afternoon with a triumphant smile, in front of Creator's Face. A pure and terrified angel was standing next to him - no parents, no relatives. Only her boggy green eyes would raise a tear of bishop's compassion, because of the ruthless cold slowly devouring over her bare shoulders.
Dorothea Elisa von Medem, heir of impoverished Heinrich von Medem and his bucolic wife Danulka Martinova, after peacefully mumbling her marriage vow, has become a wealthy Lady Charles Bolyer.
Hymns of matrimony have finally crowned the sacrament. Somewhere off the beaten path, a lonely cry of the starving hawk reached the procession of European upper class nobility at its leave to the solemn banquet.
...
- Now, my dear wife! I want you to sing to the guests! Be nice and cheer us with a bit of your delicious Delibes!
The orchestra was fully prepared. Conductor raised the wand.
Complete silence. The girl has begun to sing.
It seemed that the air has melted. Sudden heat descended from the high ceiling of the old medieval Bohemian castle. Nightingale thrills stirred with enormous energy of love have chimed in the ears of the lucky listeners.
Sir Charles Bolyer has been scrutinizing the illumined faces of his guests, whiles sitting at the head of a richly laid table. Old dukes and grand dukes of all sorts were completely flattered by his Lady's singing. After a triumphant final note of this shivering unpretentious girl, vivid applauds, hit the large hall.
- Bravo, my darling! Bravo! ...
Bolyer waved to the conductor a signal of getting on with some waltz, and gracefully excused himself, finally leading to the direction of the master's suit, accompanied by his taciturn wife.
As soon as they were left alone, in front of their luxuriously furnished bed, the couple split for the final preparations.
- To Eva!
Charles silently drank a glass of his brandy and turned to the bride, with his right arm hidden behind his back. Then he approached the trembling girl and smiled.
- It is a pity that she couldn't hold to it any more. Women. Weak and vicious. But not You, Thea, darling! You are an angel… my angel...
Then he raised his arm, and a dazzling blink of sharp spearhead flashed in the depths of her innocent tears.
He tore up the beautiful white lace of bridal gowns with his refined diamond dagger and lashed at her as a hungry predator at its long awaited breathless prey.
...