I apologize for the extremely long wait. I am afraid to say that I was distracted away by my other stories. It happens, unfortunately. And since this one has so much research involved since I want to make it accurate, it takes a while anyway when it comes to writing for this story.
On a different note, I now have a story on Amazon for the Kindle that you can all buy and download. There is a link at the top of my profile page and the story is called "Dead Man Walking." It is an urban fantasy novel that involves wizards, zombies, and talking teddy bears. If you like my fanfiction, I suggest you buy it so you can enjoy my original work. And tell your friends about it. Tell your family. Tell your arch-enemies. Tell random strangers. Spread the word.
Thank you and you may now return to your regularly scheduled program.
The piece of whalebone, carefully extracted from her corset and sharpened to a point by being rubbed against the stone floor, fit snuggly in her grip. It wasn't much. Charlotte knew that it was nowhere near as effective a deterrent as a knife or even a gun would be, though a proper young lady would be useless at wielding those weapons defensively anyway. But she knew that broken whalebone pieces could stab a woman if her corset was too tight and they snapped. She'd heard the horror stories. She also knew that there was hope for a rescue. All she had to do was keep her kidnappers' hands off until then.
The passage of time was still difficult to judge for her, but she was able to manage a little. The only hint that Charlotte could use to guess when someone else would open the door was the dwindling supply of oil in her lamp. The pattern of previous days allowed her to estimate when the arrival of more lamp oil and food would be. Thus, she was ready to conceal the sharpened piece of her corset (and the damage the sharpening did to her hands) when the sounds of footsteps approached.
Charlotte hid her small sigh of relief when her two regular jailers entered rather than the more unnerving Mr. Morris. It was hard enough trying to work up the courage to make an attempt. She wouldn't even dare such a thing if she was facing the insane murderer. He wanted to cut out her heart with a knife. His followers couldn't touch her. They were safer to deal with.
In addition to the familiar sight of a tray of food and the oil, the two men were also carrying a pitcher of water and bowl similar to what Charlotte would use to clean up back home and a length of white fabric that the taller individual held draped over one arm. The change in routine did little to sooth her nerves. The last alteration to her imprisonment and routine involved Mr. Morris's visit and it was proof that change was not necessarily good.
"Our Master has something very special planned for you this evening," one of the men informed her as he slid her meal into reach.
"I believe he has already shared his intentions quite clearly," she replied, keeping her tone calm and even.
She had to act like she was in control, but she couldn't act too relaxed either. She needed to find the right balance. She didn't want them to suspect there was an escape plan and that she intended to defend herself a little. She also couldn't completely fall apart. She couldn't give them the satisfaction.
"He sent this for you to wear," the taller man said, holding the white cloth a little higher. "He commands that you wash and dress yourself in a reasonable amount of time. Or else we will do it for you."
As the first man set the pitcher of water and bowl on the ground, she nodded and said, "I understand. I can take care of that without your help."
"We thought you'd see things our way."
"If you would give me the dress, that would be helpful," Charlotte said, stepping a little closer to the bars.
When he began to reach the white clothing through the space between the metal bars, the young woman struck. Her jailers didn't even have time to realize she'd been hiding her hands since their arrival. The taller man's first hint that she wasn't completely cowed was when the sharpened whalebone was stabbed into the back of his hand, the desperate attack as quick as a snake bite. Charlotte found herself experiencing surprisingly vicious satisfaction when he yelped in pain and stumbled away from the bars. She was left standing there, still gripping her makeshift weapon in preparation for another strike. Somehow, she suspected her long-dead brother would be proud of her.
"She stabbed me," he snarled, staring at his blood-dripping wound. "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill that little—"
"No, you aren't," the other stated, grabbing his arm to stop him. "The Master wants her in good condition. Besides, you know she'll be dead soon anyway."
The anger in his eyes drained away, leaving the man nodding thoughtfully, "You're right. There is no reason to anger our Master when her time is so limited anyway." Reaching out his uninjured hand while still keeping it out of striking range, he said, "Give it up, girl."
"I do not think I shall be doing that," Charlotte replied, her fingers tightening slightly on the whalebone. "If you insist on following the plan of a madman and kill me this evening, I will not make it easy for you."
The uninjured man chuckled, "Our Master's little lamb is growing bolder. Maybe she should remember that she is entirely at our mercy and no one is coming for her."
Brushing her auburn hair away from her face, she said, "You have already said that you are not allowed to cause me any harm until your master says so. That means there is little you can do to make me cooperate."
She could do this. She could hold these two men off, at least as long as the bars of her cage kept them at bay. She could buy herself some time. And if she could just stay in the dim cell long enough, her rescue would arrive and she could go home. Charlotte held onto that hope as she stared them down. She just needed to hold them off long enough.
Still chuckling as his companion attempted to keep the dripping blood off the white fabric, the man corrected, "Our Master wants you in good condition and unspoiled. You don't have to be completely unharmed though. Now my friend here would probably love to drag you out by your hair with your fingers broken, especially after that little trick. The Master wouldn't be happy about it, but he'd understand that you resisted and that there weren't a lot of options. And you'd still work as a sacrifice in that condition. So you can hand over whatever you stabbed him with and do exactly what we said or we can do things the hard way that results in a bit more pain for you."
He pulled out a key and stepped closer to the door. Shivering slightly against her will, Charlotte realized that her attempt to fight back was over. If they came inside the cage, she wouldn't be able to fight them both off and they'd take the whalebone anyway. She'd known her idea was a long-shot from the start, but she'd hoped it would work a little longer.
Trying to look on the bright side, the young woman remembered that a rescue was on the way. That invisible man, Mr. Skinner, said they were coming to free her. And she did at least injure one of the men who'd been holding her captive for so long. She'd drawn blood. It might not be the action of a proper young lady, but Miss Charlotte Talbot felt slightly proud that she'd managed to strike back at least a little.
"Very well," she nodded slowly. "I suppose it would be best to follow your earlier request."
Holding her head high and holding onto her hope that help would arrive soon, she handed over her improvised weapon and accepted the white garment. The injured man gave her a rather fierce glare, but the young lady didn't allow herself to even flinch. While the two men had seemed intimidating previously, she knew now that Mr. Morris was far more frightening. They were nothing but obedient servants who would only do as he told them. He was the one who would kill her if given the chance.
"Remember to hurry," he said as they headed for the door. "There's a very special occasion this evening and you are the guest of honor. We wouldn't want you to be late, would we?" He paused a moment before adding, "And no corset. It'll just be in the way."
Everything was prepared. He'd chosen the largest chamber of his base of operations, a space that could hold all his followers that were currently on site. Morris wanted a proper audience for this evening's events. Even if they were compelled to obey, they were still aware enough to react to what was to come. Unlike those who lived in the nearby village, they would understand and remember this moment. They would appreciate the enormity of his actions.
True, they would follow him regardless of anything else. The bracelets on each man under his service ensured that fact. But he'd chosen them carefully. Everyone who would witness this sacrifice were people who would have little or no complaints about the death of the young woman even without the magic binding them to his will. As long as they were rewarded for their work, they would go along with his orders. A few would even like the show simply because they were vicious before Morris recruited them. The man wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Jack the Ripper was among his followers somewhere.
Regardless, tonight's sacrifice would be particularly memorable. The sweet little lamb would unlock the power of the most valuable and powerful gem he'd ever found. Morris knew that awakening of the Delhi Purple Sapphire would be his greatest moment. He knew that the moment he carved her beating heart out of her chest and drenched the stone in her blood, he would know the meaning of true power. It would be awe-inspiring and he wanted everyone to witness this moment of triumph.
As his people entered the large, cavernous chamber, he waited on the specially-built platform at the far end. He'd insisted that the people in charge of preparing the room place a large stone slab with iron loops pounded into it to bind the young woman in place. The stories of the savage and bloody actions of the ancient Aztec people hidden in the dark jungles of Central America always sounded so impressive since the moment he'd first heard them. Some of the ideas about carving out the sacrifice's heart for an important purpose were just too similar for Morris to ignore. So when it came time for the perfect sacrifice for his perfect jewel, he couldn't resist the urge to be a little more theatrical about it. Cutting out her heart on a stone slab like the Aztecs would their human sacrifices felt appropriate. Just as they offered people as gifts to their gods to provide power, he would offer a precious little lamb to unlock the stone's full potential.
Dressed in his finest clothes and wearing his most prized gems, Morris stood there proudly. His followers formed organized lines on both sides of the chamber, leaving the center as a clear pathway. Beside the stone slab was a sturdy table with his knife, a bowl, and the awaiting Delhi Purple Sapphire. As soon as they brought Miss Talbot out of her cell, everything would be ready. And the moment the penumbral eclipse occurred, it would be time.
Yes, everything was going perfectly according to plan. There was absolutely nothing that could ruin this moment.
Charlotte wasn't even certain that the garment she was wearing could actually be considered a true dress. It wasn't anything that a proper young lady would wear when expecting company. The fabric, while soft and smooth to the touch, draped over her body lightly and reminded Charlotte far more of her nightgowns rather than more appropriate attire. No one would choose to wear such a thing outside of the bedroom. It was too loose and flowing; a strong breeze would easily cause the hemline to rise to mid-calf. She doubted even the boldest streetwalker would wear such a thing. Years of lessons about what is proper, modest, and decent told Charlotte that she couldn't put on the offered dress without utterly destroying her reputation and dignity.
But she also knew that if she did not do as she was told, the two men would return and physically force her to don the chosen garment. And even the thin and draping fabric was preferable to having them see her completely naked. So with a quiet prayer for forgiveness for wearing such a provocative outfit and that her rescuers would arrive shortly, the young lady quickly washed and donned her new dress while being thankful that she at least was allowed to retain her footwear. The stone floor would have been unbearably cold to stand on otherwise.
By the time her two jailers returned to escort her, Charlotte had gathered all her courage, hope for rescue, and memories of her beloved brother together until she could form a wall of defense in her mind against what was to come. She would face these obstacles with poise and control rather than crumbling into a frightened and weeping mess that they probably expected. She wouldn't give them the pleasure of seeing her upset. She met their arrival with all the grace that she would greet guests arriving to her parlor with.
"Good evening," she said, keeping her tone cool and collected. "I take it that your master is ready to receive company?"
She purposefully ignored how the pair was leering at her. They clearly noticed how much easier it was to see her figure in this new outfit than it was in a more appropriate dress. The length and neckline were reasonable, but the fabric simply flowed around her body. Even without her corset to define her shape properly, it was more than most men were allowed to observe without being wed to a woman. But Charlotte stood there, maintaining her dignity even in the white dress. She barely even acknowledged the men's presence as they opened the cell door and gripped her arms tightly.
"He is indeed ready for you," the man on her right, the one who she stabbed previously, said. "And we're here to escort you to him."
"Well, I am quite certain that you are the most effective and cultured escorts he possesses," remarked the young lady dryly. "He must be so proud of your wit and manners."
"You choose the oddest moments to show a backbone," the man on her left commented. "After all those stories about upper class young ladies being soft and harmless…"
Before she could stop herself, she muttered, "Sometimes we learn things from our brothers."
As he led her down yet a different tunnel, he said, "I've heard stories about your brother. The Honorable Victor Talbot. Takes after your father, doesn't he? I'm not that impressed so far."
While part of her wanted to snap back that she meant her long-dead brother, she held her tongue. She didn't need to get into an argument with him at the moment. Besides, it was a reasonable mistake since no one even spoke of Rodney anymore. The man likely didn't even know she used to have another sibling and she doubted Victor would be that impressive to any of the ruffians who held her captive.
The rest of her thoughts shriveled away as they led her into a large chamber and she stared at her surroundings. This particular part of the cave was huge, the ceiling stretching high with various crevices and ledges creating deep shadows that even the torches couldn't pierce. At one point, high above, was a tiny opening that she could glimpse a little piece of the night sky. It was the first time she'd seen the outside since she'd been brought to this place.
The rest of the massive chamber was riddled with other tunnels, leading in various directions and making it clear that this was a central location that branched off into other chambers and rooms. There was a maze-like quality to the various openings, promising that anyone who was careless with their explorations would quickly be lost to the darkness. These numerous passages were also shrouded in shadows, adding further gloom and dread to the young woman's present state.
All around her were strange men, filling the space and making rescue seem less likely with each passing second. There were dozens upon dozens of them, standing in orderly lines and patiently waiting for what was to come. The only way through the mass of people was the single aisle of space that led all the way to a platform near the front of the crowds. There, Mr. Morris stood next to a large stone slab that waited like an altar. Even if she didn't know what the vile man had in mind, Charlotte would have realized that these people were clearly waiting for her.
Her arms held firm by her escorts, the young woman couldn't help thinking that this all seemed like a cruel mockery of the wedding she'd intended to someday have. She was walking down the aisle, at the center of attention to everyone in attendance, while a man waited for her at the end that would change her entire life. All that was missing was the orange blossoms in her hair and a bouquet of lavender or beautiful purple violets in her arms. If she didn't still have hope for rescue thanks to Mr. Skinner's promise, she knew she'd probably break down into hysterical laughter over the entire thing. Instead, she maintained her firm mask of cool indifference as she was marched towards the platform.
"What happened, Clarke?" Morris asked as they reached the stone slab.
"She stabbed me," muttered the injured man darkly. "She stabbed me with part of her corset."
Looking vaguely amused, he remarked, "It seems even innocent little lambs will fight to survive. Perhaps some of that hidden fire will spark something interesting from the gem stone."
"It is such a shame no one locked you in Bedlam before you had the chance to completely lost your mind," remarked Charlotte dryly, but in a loud enough voice that she hoped the man's followers would hear.
The man smirked slightly at her words, but didn't say anything in response. Instead, he gestured briefly at her two escorts and they abruptly shoved her onto the stone slab before she could react. With one pinning her in place against her useless attempts to struggle out of his grip, the uninjured partner started tying a rope that bound her tightly against the rough surface. The rope wove across her, attaching to a few metal rings in the stone slab while digging into her arms roughly. And before she could manage anything resembling a complaint or protest against what they were doing, she found her mouth gagged by a length of fabric. The entire process took only a moment or two, the pair of men moving with the confidence of long experience. And the instant that they were satisfied that no amount of struggles would loosen their knots, they left the platform to join the crowds of observers.
Due to her helplessness and the lack of evidence for the promised rescue, Charlotte felt a slight panic beginning to form in her chest. She was trapped and bound tight, about to be killed by a madman who believed in magic and wanted to carve her heart out of her chest because of a shiny rock. And though she could still turn her head, all she could see was a tiny glimpse of the moon through the slim gap in the roof and the crowds of eager faces waiting for her death. She was running out of time and there was no sign of a way out. Even her foolish attempt to delay proceedings by stabbing the man with a piece of whalebone wasn't enough.
"This is the night we have been waiting for," announced Morris, pacing along the platform like an actor on stage. "Tonight, the gift is this unwed young lady of the upper class," he gestured at the bound Charlotte, "who was raised to be the pure and innocent ideal that all those families strive to possess. The perfect gift for the perfect stone."
Reaching towards the small table, he lifted a purple gemstone high above his head for his entire audience to see. Charlotte could hear them cheer eagerly, reacting just as Mr. Morris intended them to.
Fear was rising up in her, her heart racing as she realized that her rescuers wouldn't it in time. She was about to die. She was about to die far from home and her family would never know what happened or why. Her body would probably be dumped into a ditch or left for wild animals to devour. There would be no priest to say any final words and she wouldn't be buried with the rest of her family. No, there would be no gravestone with her name beside Rodney's. All that would be left would be a memory and a blood-stained rock in the hands of a madman.
Her horrified thoughts about painful death, no funeral, and not being buried near her brother were abruptly interrupted as she felt something tugging on the rope slightly. With a quick glance, she saw that Mr. Morris was still speaking to his enthusiastic audience and that there was no one else in sight. And the lack of anyone else in view caused the young woman to instantly relax.
"Did they have to tie these knots so bloody tight?" Skinner muttered quietly.
Bedlam, more formally known as Bethlem Royal Hospital among other names, is Europe's oldest extant psychiatric hospital and has operated continuously for over 600 years. It has also been the continent's most famous and, indeed, infamous specialist institution for the care and control of the insane and its popular designation – "Bedlam" – has long been synonymous with madness. It has been relocated a few times over the centuries. And while it has been reformed into a more modern and efficient hospital now, historically it was representative of the worst excesses of asylums in the era of lunacy reform. In essence, it was a very bad place to end up during that time period and would probably just make people crazier and miserable rather than help them.
In regards to Aztecs cutting out people's hearts, they did it because they thought it was important to strengthen their gods and prevent disasters like the end of the world. Morris? He just does it because it gives him magic gem stones and because he's evil. Honestly, I'd rather deal with the culture that thinks they are at least doing something good with their actions than the guy who is just after personal power. Plus, the Aztecs usually gave their intended sacrifice a really nice feast/celebration/good-looking dates before killing them and a lot of them treated the fact they were being killed as a great honor.
On a less disturbing and violent note, it turns out there's an entire language based on what kind of flowers you give someone and even how you give it to them. It was particularly popular during the Victorian era. It was one of the ways that a couple of people could send messages to each other that they didn't want to say out-loud, like flirty with a cute person they wanted to start courting.
A flower presented in an upright position represented a "positive thought; whereas one presented in the opposite direction had a negative meaning. Too, a person could say "yes" by offering a flower with the right hand - the left hand "no."
As for the types of flowers, roses and lilies had various meanings depending on what color they were, such as red roses meaning "I love you," yellow ones meaning "friendship, joy, or jealous," and white ones meaning "innocence or secrecy." Violets could mean "watchfulness or I'll always be true" if they were blue and would mean "faithfulness" if they were purple. Lavender meant "devotion" and orchids meant "love or beauty." A crocus would mean "youthful gladness" and primrose meant "I can't live without you." A gladiolus meant "sincerity" while a yellow carnation means "rejection or disappointment." And orange blossoms mean "purity, eternal love, and marriage," which is why a bride would often wear orange blossoms in their hair at their wedding.
Oh, and you know the humble dandelion that grows in people's yards as a weed nowadays? It means "faithfulness, happiness, and love's oracle." Which is kind of cool for such a common plant.
Remember, reviews are always appreciated, even if updates aren't always the fastest. So I want all of you to have a white clover (which means "think of me") and have a nice day. And buy my book for Kindle. The link is on my profile. Please?