Heart of Stone

For the first time since hearing the news of her husband's death Caroline Burgess let her thoughts drift rather than staying sharply focused on the task at hand as she rode over the bleak, hot terrain towards the Heart of Gold. She unconsciously adjusted her veil as the shining building rose on the horizon. From a distance it could have been a palace of polished silver encrusted with diamonds rather than the dilapidated shack it was.

Caroline wondered what her husband had been thinking as he came this same way, that last time. Had there been even a twinge of remorse, doubt or guilt? Perhaps a hint of shame at the thought of what he had been planning? She sighed at her own foolishness. No, not a chance in hell. Too full of pride, of power, of his own absolutely surety in his own righteousness for any qualms to bother him.

Not that she was free to judge, Caroline reminded herself. There had been no qualms on her part either, only anger. And jealously. She had spent that morning pacing around, seeing that everything would be in order for her husband's return with the child. She ground her teeth in frustration. How dare he, she seethed for the thousandth time, how dare he throw something like that in my face? She, a descendent of the House of Ashbury, older and more renowned than the house of Burgess had ever been. Nor, she thought scornfully, was ever like to be. She had done everything she could possibly think to do in overseeing the final preparations for the Nursery.

She had just been sitting down to compose the christening invitations when the men had come riding up to the house. She braced herself to have the baby and all the insults it symbolized thrust in her face, plastered a complacent mask on her face, and rose to greet her husband. Who never came. Instead, a jumble of men came into the entry way, and, piecemeal, she got the story of the Battle of the Whores, and the subsequent deaths that had followed. Thrusting all emotions aside, she began brusquely giving orders.

"You, Perkins," she ordered one of her husband's foremen, "get coffins for all of the bodies. Ling," she turned to the household majordomo, "Those who have families return the bodies to them and express our deepest condolences and tell them that the house of Burgess will be providing generous severance packages and that if anyone in the family needs work they need only apply to me and I will see to it. Those without families see to it they are buried in the town cemetery as soon as possible. As for my husband's body, prepare a pyre. And tonight I want you to provide enough liquor for everyone in our employ to honor my husband's memory, and I'm sure it will help ease the pain of all those who were lost today."

Movement on the horizon caught her eye and jolted out of her recent memories. Someone had darted from the front of the house to the front door. No doubt she had been spotted. She wondered if they would meet her with guns as well. Somehow she couldn't work up any anxiety over that thought. Her anger was currently acting as a shield against any thoughts of vulnerability.

She got to the house and paused for a moment on her horse. It seemed the entire Heart of Gold had assembled outside to see what the widow Burgess had come for. Caroline dismounted in one smooth motion. She smoothed her gown, made a slight adjustment to her riding habit, and approached the line of people standing in front of the brothel. "My condolences to all of you," she stated blandly, then stood motionless, waiting for them to respond before continuing.

A few in the line shifted nervously. "And to you as well," one of them finally said uneasily. She was shorter than the rest, although she may have been trying to make up for some of that height in a rat's nest of black hair piled atop her head.

Caroline inclined her head graciously in acknowledgement, and then said, "I wish to speak with Petaline and whoever is in charge."

"Petaline's the new House Mother," said one of the boys. "We decided last night."

"Very well," said Caroline, inwardly calculating what this meant and could mean, "I will speak with her now."

There was a ripple of voices and several people disagreed with this at once. She cut through them loudly, "I have come a long way today alone and unarmed, in full mourning, and wish only a few minutes of the girl's time." She surveyed the various stubborn and or disbelieving looks, sighed and said, "I promise I cause her no harm. I am not my husband."

One of the oldest looking of the whores, a blonde with an assortment of spangles all over her short outfit, stepped forward and said, "Well, a few minutes then."

Caroline gave a simple nod of thanks. And now will shall see, she thought, wondering which direction things would go after today.