Dark and far from a drabble. Fair warning. The story took over the writer and this monster was born. It way more than a drabble. Violence and mature themes ahead. Am considering this taking place in a different universe than that of the other pieces in the challenge. Don't want to color the rest of the work with this experience. By the way, you are all lovely and gorgeous. Your kindness is overwhelming. XOXO
Silver
Charles had run into the man at the train station, a chance meeting of one traveler departing and the other arriving. "I will call my wife and tell her to expect you." Charles had hastily written down directions to the house on Brouncker Road before ducking into the station to call Elsie with news of the lodger she was to expect. His day trip to Manchester for the funeral of an acquaintance would allow him to be back in plenty of time to assist her with the lodger's dinner.
"Good afternoon. My husband mentioned we were to expect a gentleman this morning. I am Mrs. Carson, won't you please come in."
The large man didn't so much walk, but glide into the entry of the house. A shiny silver thread was woven through the gray tweed that composed the man's coat under which he wore a suit and tie that matched the shock of silver hair that could be seen both jutting out from under his hat and along his upper lip. The smell of dirty, greasy hair permeated the entry as the man crossed the threshold. Passing where Elsie stood against the open door, small, dull gray eyes and teeth flashed at her as the back of his hand brushed along the front of her skirt, just above her knees. The corridor wasn't particularly wide, but there was plenty of room for the man to pass without coming into contact with her person. Shocked, Elsie suddenly flashed on the image of a shiny eel that had once thrashed about her mother's kitchen sink when she was a small child. She found the man equally as distasteful as the fish. Fighting her instinct to lash out at him for his unsolicited touch, she managed a small, but polite smile as she stepped behind the desk to provide him with the registration book.
"If you will just fill out the registry, please. I will have Peter carry up your bags."
Elsie had called on the handsome blonde fifteen year old after receiving Charles' telephone call. They had agreed to hire a village lad to assist when either trade was brisk or Elsie was on her own with guests in the residence and the lad had proved to be a wonderful employee. He emerged from the kitchen, having waited to hear his name before making his way down the corridor to the entry. His pace slowed as he approached the gentleman standing on the other side of Elsie. His nose picked- up the aromatic assault that accompanied the man and he was struck with an immediate sense of dislike as he observed the small beady eyes and unsettling smile that were fixed on his employer.
"I can prepare you luncheon if you wish, Mr…." she glanced down at the registry, "…Silver." She paused, struck by his fitting moniker. "...or tea later in the afternoon. Dinner is at seven-thirty this evening, breakfast from seven until eight-thirty. You are with us for only this evening?"
"I had a bite mid-morning, so tea this afternoon would be lovely. I was planning only one night, but the beauty of my surroundings…" he leaned towards her with an ugly grin, "…may lead me to stay an additional day, Mrs. Carson.
Elsie leaned back slightly, Mr. Silver's unpleasant voice and untoward remark as off putting as his odor. She fought again to muster a polite smile, "I see. If you would just let either my husband or me know, we would be happy to accommodate you for another evening, Mr. Silver. Please let Peter know if there is anything else you require before tea. Room two please, Peter."
Handing Peter the key, Elsie was distracted from noticing Mr. Silver reaching for her. A cold, clammy hand was suddenly wrapped around hers' as he leaned even further across the desk, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Carson. I know I am going to enjoy my stay."
Elsie snatched her hand from his grasp and shot him a dirty look, unable to hide her disdain any longer. "I must get on." She fought the desire to run down the corridor as she felt his eyes on her. Safely inside the kitchen, she immediately stuck her hands under the faucet, trying to wash away any trace of his touch.
Elsie was grateful that the off-putting Mr. Silver had stayed in his room for the next few hours, allowing her to attend to the previous week's bills in the small office that was located just past the front entry. The lodger emerged from his room just as the telephone began to ring. Slipping down to the bottom stair, the oily man craned his neck towards the open door of the small office as Elsie began to speak:
"Hello, love... The train is stuck where? Oh, dear…but you must get back as soon as you can…it's just, well, you just need to get back…No, I understand…well, if there is any way, please do… Yes, I know…All right…I love you…Goodbye."
Mr. Silver quickly retreated up the stairs, waiting for Elsie to emerge from the office before making his second ascent.
"Hello, Mr. Silver." Elsie made a point of picking up her pace as she spotted the man coming down the stairs. "Please sit wherever you would like. I will be right back with the tea."
No reservations on the books for that Monday, Elsie had given their pretty Irish maid Mona the day off, and was therefore stuck serving the man his tea. She felt fortunate that Peter had been able to join her at such short notice. The young man's presence in the house gave her a feeling of security. She returned with the tea tray, fighting to maintain a pleasant demeanor as she felt Mr. Silver's unsettling gaze follow her every move. Passing the cup to the man, she almost dropped it as he ran his fingers over the back of her hand. She turned to make a hasty retreat from the room when Mr. Silver implored, "Won't you please join me, Mrs. Carson? I would be most appreciative of your company."
"I am afraid I have many things to attend to in the kitchen, Mr. Silver. I am quite the maid of all work today." She managed a small smile as she backed towards the kitchen.
"Only a few minutes, please. I am rarely afforded such lovely company. Surely you wouldn't begrudge a paying customer your courtesy."
She found his words quite objectionable. Their business was one held in the highest regard and he had talked as though she were a prostitute in a brothel.
"Mr. Silver, it is quite impossible for me to stay out of the kitchen."
"Then I shall join you."
Elsie was shocked at his insistence, "I am afraid that would be quite unconventional, Mr. Silver. My husband would be quite upset with me if he found out I had let a guest into the kitchen."
"Our little secret, my dear Mrs. Carson. Please. I am quite starving for some human contact."
Again she found his words suggestive and improper. "Please don't think me rude, Mr. Silver…"
He interrupted, "I shall only think you rude if you deny me, Mrs. Carson. Now, I am following you into the kitchen."
Peter suddenly appeared from the corridor, having heard the last bit of the conversation on his way down the stairs. "Everything all right, Mrs. Carson?" He was alarmed by the look of obvious distress on his employer's face.
"Ah, Peter..." Elsie couldn't hide the relief in her voice, "…it seems Mr. Silver is quite insistent that he have company for his tea, but unfortunately you and I are needed in the kitchen."
He usually took no part in any of the food preparation, but he followed Elsie's lead. "Yes, yes, Mrs. Carson. Lots to do."
Mr. Silver shot Peter a menacing look, "You must agree to be in on our secret, Peter. I am choosing to take my tea in the kitchen and Mrs. Carson is afraid it will upset Mr. Carson. You won't tell will you, my boy?"
Peter glanced up at Elsie's pleading face before answering, "Mr. Carson is a very proper person, Mr. Silver, I really don't think he would…"
"Which is why none of us will tell him. Take the tray into the kitchen, Peter." It was apparent Mr. Silver was losing his patience, his words were extremely sharp.
The discomfort Elsie had felt instantly turned to fear. Mr. Silver was a large man, and while Peter was a sturdy lad, she was unsure that both she and he could fend off the man if he became violent.
Having received a nod from Elsie, Peter picked up the tray, quickly stepping between the man and Elsie as the trio made their way into the kitchen.
Mr. Silver settled himself into a wooden chair near the fireplace, his eyes never leaving Elsie's form as she made her way around the kitchen. Realizing she had to make Peter's presence in the kitchen plausible, Elsie quickly set him to peeling potatoes.
"And where is your very proper Mr. Carson anyway?" Elsie and Peter both jumped as Mr. Silver's voice broke the silent tension in the room.
"He should be here any moment. His train has certainly already arrived." Elsie looked at Peter for support.
"Yes. He should be here any minute. I expect we'll see him very soon."
Mr. Silver raised an eyebrow as he digested the lies he was being fed. He knew very well Mr. Carson's train had not arrived. "I see. Well, I look forward to seeing him again." Mr. Silver startled both Elsie and Peter as he suddenly rose to his feet. He began to skulk around the kitchen, running his fingers over various items that rested on the counters and shelves. Both Elsie and Peter kept an eye on the man as they continued with their tasks.
Peter had to pass where Mr. Silver stood in front of the small walk-in pantry in order to deposit his bowl of peel into the pot that was dumped onto the compost pile at the end of each day. He had almost cleared the man when he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Mr. Silver threw open the pantry door, using great force to fling the boy against shelving at the back of the small room. Peter was knocked unconscious as his head banged against one of the thick wooden shelves.
Elsie screamed as she saw the boy fly through the doorway. She ran towards the door leading to the dining room, but Silver grabbed the wooden chair from the fireplace and flung it across the room, knocking her to the floor.
The shock and force of the blow rendered Elsie immobile for a moment. She had almost caught her breath, pushing herself up onto her knees when she heard the sound of breaking glass. Looking over her shoulder she found Mr. Silver advancing on her, a broken wine bottle in his hand.
"Your husband's train is stuck, Mrs. Carson." He kicked the chair out of the way, "I heard you on the telephone, you lying bitch. On your back." He was now standing over her, the jagged end of the bottle pointed at her.
Elsie rolled over and tried to scramble backwards on her hands, but Silver stepped on the span of skirt that spread between her legs. "Stop moving. The more you move the more I will hurt you." Elsie let out a scream, but it was strangled as the man dropped to his knees, pinning her right leg under him as his placed his free hand on her throat, the bottle only inches from her face.
"Shut your mouth. Scream again and I cut your throat." His face was only inches from hers' as he hissed the words.
Tears streamed out the corners of Elsie's eyes, her lungs burning from a lack of oxygen. Silver loosened his grip around her neck and she choked on the air that blessedly filled her lungs. The struggle to breathe distracted her enough to allow him to unpin her leg and move to the side the right side of her body. She looked down in horror as she felt his hand move up the inside of her right leg.
She tried to squeeze her legs shut, but he placed his knee on her thigh, pulling his hand out from under her skirt and slapping her hard across the face. He stuck his hand back under her skirt, gripping tightly just above her right knee. "Don't fight. Don't fight me, you bitch."
Elsie closed her eyes as the pain from his slap pulsed with each of her rapid heart beats. She fought to distract herself, her thoughts suddenly going to Anna. This was what that sweet girl had endured- and survived. Elsie clung to the fact that Anna had indeed survived and so could she. Knowing there was no escaping the man or his weapon, she now struggled to focus her thoughts on Charles. She pictured his face. He was so beautiful to her; his gentle eyes, warm smile and strong nose.
Charles' image was ripped from her mind as she not only felt, but heard the man pull apart the seam of her knickers, leaving her completely uncovered, her skirt and slip pushed up around her waist. Elsie whimpered as she felt his hand grab her thigh, forcing her legs apart. A sob escaped her throat as she could hear him undo his trousers, the stench of him filling her nose as he lowered his pants. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut in anticipation of the horrors that were about to be unleashed but a sudden loud slam startled her and she willed herself to open her eyes.
Her vision blurred, she watched as a dark figure dragged Silver off of her, his pasty white legs kicking wildly within the confines of the trousers that were pooled around his ankles, the wine bottle flying out of his hand, rolling under the butcher block table in the center of the room. She managed to lift herself up onto her elbows as the figure pulled her attacker out the back door.
Legs shaking, Elsie struggled to her feet, holding onto the butcher block table for support as she crossed towards the pantry. She managed to open the door, sinking to her knees next to the prone form of Peter. The young man was still unconscious, but he was breathing and she could detect a strong heart beat when she placed her hand on his chest. She could hear shouting, but her pulse thumped so hard in her ears, she couldn't concentrate on making out the words or the voice. She crawled back out of the pantry, managing to make it to the kitchen sink before retching. Struggling to stay on her feet, she stumbled her way to the telephone that sat on the small table on the far side of the room.
"The police, please. Emergency." Elsie's hoarse voice croaked out the words Thankfully, the transfer was made quickly and she managed to form the words, " An attacker...Carson house… Brouncker road…back garden," before she passed out.
Unbeknownst to Elsie, Charles had managed to get a ride from where his train was stuck in Leeds. Henry Talbot was on his way to Downton from Huddersfield to see Lady Mary when he saw the tall figure of the former butler walking away from the train station. Charles was headed towards the home of a longtime acquaintance when the young man had spotted him. Charles gratefully accepted Talbot's offer. There was something about tone of Elsie's voice over the phone that had set off an alarm in his head and he was desperate to get home to her.
The young man's fast, yet skilled driving allowed Charles to make it home in a record amount of time. Not wanting to disturb the new guest by entering through the front door, he had opted to slip along the side of the house and enter through the kitchen.
The slam Elsie had heard was that of the backdoor hitting the wall, knob imbedding into plaster, as Charles took in the horrific sight of broken furniture and Elsie's legs jutting out from under the form of the half-dressed man.
Flinging himself through the doorway, he wrenched the man off of Elsie, dragging the large, struggling body out the back door.
Pulling the man roughly through the yard, he lifted Silver up before slamming him to the ground, "What did you do to her? What the hell did you do to her, you bastard?!" Charles jerked Silver to his feet by his lapel and shirt. Pulling his elbow back and up, Charles hammered the man with a blow to his gut. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he forced the prone figure upright, rearing back with his right arm, delivering a bone shattering punch to the man's left cheekbone. He heard the jacket rip, but the tear was incomplete and Charles' mighty grip kept the man from hitting the ground.
Letting out a roar, he simultaneously pulled the Silver toward him as he issued a punch to the side of the head. Once again drawing the bleeding man back within striking range, he aimed for the man's right cheek. He felt the jaw dislocate as the blow landed. Finally letting go of the man's clothes, he watched the unconscious body fall in a heap to the ground. It was only now that the intensity of his efforts caught up with him. He leaned over, fighting to catch his breath, his eyes resting on the swollen, bloody face of his wife's attacker.
He forced air into his burning lungs before rushing back towards the house and through the now permanently opened door. His eyes went to the spot on the floor where he had discovered her earlier, but he saw uncovered floor. He scanned the room, finally discovering her slumped form at the base of the telephone table. Kneeling next to her, he placed his hand under chin, thrilled to find a strong pulse under her jaw. "Elsie! Wake up, love! Elsie!"
He was distracted by a groan as the pantry door swung open. He jumped to his feet, but the sight of Peter crawling out on his hands and knees erased his instinct for attack. The young man sat up, lifting his hand to the back of his head. "Are you all right, Peter?"
"Yes, Mr. Carson. Is she all right?"
Charles turned back to find Elsie's eyes slowly opening. She had to blink several times before she was able to focus on him. "Oh, Charles. Oh, thank God."
Charles pulled her into his arms, ignoring the throbbing pain of his right hand. "I've got you. I've got you…" He repeated the words over and over as Elsie sobbed against his chest.
"Should I call the police, Mr. Carson?" Peter had managed to climb to his feet, leaning against the butcher block for support.
Elsie lifted her face to look at Charles,"I did...I think. I think I did." Her left cheek was swollen and a small amount of blood had collected at the edge of her mouth. His eyes filled with tears as he took in her battered state.
"Mr. Carson?" The voice of Sergeant Willis confirmed the fact that she had indeed called the police. "Is everyone all right?"
Charles turned his attention to the shaken policeman. "I think we shall need to call Dr. Clarkson, but everyone is in one piece,Sergeant Willis."
"Mrs. Carson said the word "attacker…" Elsie flinched in Charles' arm as the word registered. "…on the telephone. I take it that is the gentleman in the garden?"
Charles gave a nod.
"PC Royle is with him."
"Good. I don't think I killed him, but I don't really care if I did." Charles tightened his arms around Elsie as he felt her shiver in his arms. "Let's get you off the floor, love." Helping to her feet, he only winced slightly as he flexed his right hand to get better purchase around her waist.
"Your hand, Charles." Elsie lifted his bloodied hand between her trembling fingers.
"I don't think I broke anything, Elsie. But you need to see Dr. Clarkson."
"I am fine, Charles. Sore and shaky, but fine. I am more concerned about Peter's head."
The young man struggled to focus on the Carsons, "Oh, I'm all right."
The policeman looked at Peter's eyes, "I am no doctor, but I would say he is probably concussed."
Peter fought not to cry as he looked at Elsie's swollen face. He swallowed as he turned to Charles, "I'll call the doctor. You need to get Mrs. Carson to lie down."
The policeman nodded in agreement, ushering Elsie and Charles towards the front of the house.
Charles took her to the couch, but she shook her head, her hoarse voice barely a whisper, "Can we please go upstairs? I can still smell him in here."
Charles brushed tears from her cheeks, "Of course, love."
It was a struggle, but with Charles and Sergeant Willis' help, Elsie managed to make it up the stairs and into their bedroom. Charles sat beside her on their bed, holding her trembling hand in his unhurt left. He held his head high, unable to look at her as she began her statement. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he listened to her fight to be understood, her voice weak and speaking obviously painful as she described everything that had transpired since Silver's arrival late that morning. His stomach tightened and he fought the urge to vomit as she told of the violent man knocking her down with the chair and threatening to harm her with the jagged wine bottle before slapping her. A sense of thankfulness like none he had known filled him as Elsie confirmed that he had stopped the attack before Silver had managed to violate her with penetration. He allowed himself to weep openly, such was his relief at the news. He took a moment to collect himself, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve before sharing his brief statement.
"I am very sorry, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson. We will have Dr. Clarkson attend to the man after he sees you, but he will certainly remain in custody for the time being, have no fear on that account."
"Thank you, Sergeant Willis. Will you please check on Peter?" Elsie tightened her hand around Charles'.
"Of course. I will wait with him until the doctor gets here, if he isn't here already." The policeman gave them a sympathetic smile and was almost out the door when Elsie struggled to call out, "Would you please remove his things from room number two?"
"I will see to it personally, Mrs. Carson." He gave one last smile before letting himself out of the room.
"Let's get you out of these clothes, love."
Elsie's tear stained, swollen face looked up at him, "Burn them. I don't want to ever see them again. Will you burn them, Charles?"
"Oh course. Of course I will burn them."
"Everything. Even my shoes."
"Everything, love." Charles helped her stand as her fingers fought to undo the three small buttons at the back of her neck. Charles' stiff fingers were of no help with the small cloth colored knots, but he was able to unzip the back of the dress with his left hand.
Elsie remained silent as she removed the dress, followed by her shoes, slip, brassiere, girdle and damaged tights. She could no longer control her emotions as she moved her hands to the waistband of what remained of her ripped knickers, her body convulsing with sobs.
Charles pulled her to him, gently caressing her bare back with his left hand. "Let me, darling." He carefully slid his left hand fingers inside the waistband, using his right thumb on the opposite side. Elsie dug her fingers into his arm as she fought to maintain her balance, stepping out of the silk rag.
He managed to get a light cotton gown over her head and was helping her into her dressing gown when there was a light knock on the door.
Elsie slowly climbed onto the bed, automatically curling up into the fetal position as Charles opened the door for Dr. Clarkson. The color drained from the man's face as he took in Elsie's disheveled appearance and swollen face, along with Charles' bloody and battered hand.
"Hello, Dr. Clarkson." Charles ushered his old friend in, gently closing the door behind him.
"Hello, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson. Please let me say how very sorry I am for what you have been through, both of you."
"Thank you, Dr. Clarkson. Is Peter all right?" Startled by Elsie's weak and raspy voice, the doctor swiftly crossed to her.
"He has a concussion, but will be fine. Your neighbor is seeing him home. I will check on him again this evening. Would you like to have my nurse present for your examination, Mrs. Carson?"
Elsie shook her head, "No. Charles can stay, if you don't mind."
Dr. Clarkson turned to the large, solemn man who answered with a nod.
She would be sore and bruised for several days, but Elsie suffered no broken bones or permanent damage to her body. Charles' right hand was given a similar diagnosis. Dr. Clarkson couldn't offer much more advice than that they apply ice to their respective face and hand and get as much rest as possible. Gently squeezing Elsie's hand, he promised to check on her the next day. With a gentle pat on Charles' arm, he let himself out of the bedroom.
Charles made his way to the other side of the bed gently wrapping his body around Elsie's curled form, his now bandaged right hand resting on her hip.
"It's my fault…"
"Don't." Elsie placed her hand on his wrist. "It is no one's fault but his. I won't hear another word. Just hold me, Charles. Please just hold me."
The couple fell into a deep sleep, not changing positions for six hours. The room was lit by a stream of silver moonlight coming through the window as Elsie opened her eyes. The soreness of her body was an instant reminder of the horrors from earlier in the day. She willed herself not to let the memories overwhelm her, forcing herself to roll over and look at Charles. Bathed in the moonlight, his gentle eyes were open, a warm smile on his lips. He leaned forward, placing a light kiss on her forehead. Finding comfort and solace in his embrace, she returned his smile as she ran her fingers through his hair, grateful she could still find beauty and comfort in something silver.