The Price of Her

Chapter 2

When the clock down stairs chimed three times, Selena had still not slept. She had risen form her bed and sat at the night stand, looking at herself in the mirror. Her dark auburn hair seemed black in the dark. It felt heavy and hot. It reminded her of the darkness she had felt inside her, and was startled with the image that she had grown so full of it, it was sprouting out of her head and covering her face. The desire to get it off of her shoulders and back urgently washed over her. She desperately dragged her fingers through it. It was matted and damp.

She was so exhausted - the heat of her hair seemed to be suffocating her. Enraged, she pulled the drawer of the night stand out and onto the floor. She rummaged in the dark and found a pair of scissors. Climbing to the mirror, Selena made a clumsy jab with the open shears at her hair. Her vision was blurred with tears; the inconvenience only irritated her to a greater extant. She caught the edge of her night shift. Again she pulled the scissors back for a second thrust.

Rigid arms darted around her and grabbed her wrists, pulling them back towards her shoulders. The too familiar feeling of forced submission overwhelmed her. She screamed and dropped to the floor along with the shears. Again she cried out as she scrambled up against the wall, feeling lost in her hair.

"Shhhhh! Shhhh.." she heard Basil's voice urge in the dark. She felt his hands, more gently this time, cautiously come to rest on her shoulders. She flinched and he quickly lifted them. Embarrassment, shame and a sense of pure brokenness came immediately over her. She hid her face in her hands and sobbed.

After a moment of silence, Basil's voice sounded harsh amidst the quiet.

"Let me help you.." he whispered.

Selena held her breath as she felt his fingers touch lightly behind her ears. He pulled her hair up and off of her face. She turned the back of her head towards him slightly. She felt him pull his fingers through three times, and then begin to braid it tightly.

How embarrassed and disgusted she was with herself. A mess on the floor that needed cleaning up. How could she ever face him again after this? Gathering all the courage she had left, she managed a weak "thank you".

Basil stood and helped her up in a swift motion. He guided her gently to the bed, and lowered her onto it. He crouched before her on the floor.

"The Painting is called "Matinee de Septembre." he said quietly.

Selena closed her eyes and nodded.

"Its beautiful, I think."

"Do you think she's cold?" Selena asked, barely audible.

Basil was quiet for a second. "Only for a moment." he said gently. "The sun is rising."

Selena's exhaustion overwhelmed her and she lay back in the bed. She barely had energy to acknowledge Basil's eyes upon her. She fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Selena awoke feeling stiff and heavy; she pushed herself out of the sheets and stretched. The lighting in the room suggested late afternoon. Not wanting to look in the mirror, she only smoothed her hair and clothes briefly with her hands before stepping outside and descending the stairs.

She found Basil sitting in his arm chair, his chin in his hands and an irritated expression on his face. Across from him, Mr. Dawson sat on the sofa, turning the pages of an old newspaper. In fact, Selena noticed as she approached them, the floor was littered with old newspapers.

"Upon my word," she heard Mr. Dawson murmur. "I had no idea how difficult it would be to find just one article.." he stood when he saw Selena approaching. "Good morning Ms. Chartier," he began formally. "I'm glad to see you are feeling better."

"I suppose I should be, after how much I've slept.." Selena replied, picking her way across the floor and seating herself on the sofa. Mr. Dawson chuckled as he sat back down and lifted the newspaper.

"I do suppose it would have been better fit of me to have said good afternoon."

Warm air filled the house wen the kitchen door opened. The kind house keeper entered the room with a tray of tea in her hands. She looked surprised to see Selena.

"Oh! how nice to see you up and about, dear!" She exclaimed, setting the tea down admits the new papers. "You'd better have a spot of this, it will make you feel even better."

Selena nodded in thanks and eagerly took a warm cup, breathing in the steam.

The kind woman moved to where Basil sat and thrust a cup into his hands. "You're unhealthy." She said curtly before heading towards the kitchen door.

"Now this is interesting," Selena heard Mr. Dawson speak at her left. Basil paid little attention and sipped his tea. "Woman Dies in Childbirth." He read allowed. "Early yesterday morning, January 5th 1912, Julie Phillips, along with her unborn babe -" Basil made a choking noise and spewed his tea onto the rug.

"Died in childbirth!?" he shouted.

"MY RUG!!" The house keeper bellowed, rushing into the room. "Why can't I keep anything in this house with out you destroying it!?" Basil waved her away were she some irritating insect.

"Whatever, whatever!" He cried, snatching the newspaper from Dawson. He murmured to himself as he quickly reviewed the article.

"-But Basil," Dawson rose, confused. "We already knew that she was dead.."

Selena was feeling terribly left behind, and a little angry for not being informed. She stood so that she could view the newspaper from over Basil's shoulder.

"Who is Julie Phillips?" she asked, reading the article.

"The woman in the painting." Basil said absently. "Her fiancé' Henry Thompson," he read allowed, "has been placed under custody after displaying threatening behavior towards Dr. Anthony Lourence, the head surgeon. This is it!" Basil exclaimed. "This is exactly what we've been looking for!" He thrust the paper into Selena's hands. "Dawson!" he cried. "Find me Dr. Anthony Lourence!"

It so happened that the now retired Dr. Lourence lived only on the other side of town. He was a tall and frail looking creature; his dark fur was thin and patchy. The moment he had opened his door to find the three of them on his door step, Selena had become instantly fascinated with the wrinkles around his eyes. How they reminded her of rose bushes in winter!

Dr. Lourence seemed relieved once Basil introduced himself.

"Oh my," he exclaimed in a deep voice. "I don't suppose you could have come at a better time..." he slowly moved to a dresser covered in papers on the opposite wall of the room.

The home he resided in was musty and dank. The furniture and size of his flat suggested that he was a man of wealth, though it felt lonely with only one resident. The room in which they stood was for the most part scantily furnished, with only a small desk, a few cushioned chairs, and a floor lamp. A deep green rug covered the majority of the floor.

Dr. Lourence returned to them with a letter in hand.

"I just discovered this under my door yesterday morning." he said with a worried expression. He handed the parchment to Basil and began to wring his hands.

"Anthony Lourence," Basil read. "you will finally pay for what you have done. I will avenge my wife and child. "

"Surly this is from Thompson," Basil exclaimed, lowering the letter.

"Yes, I had thought so myself.." Dr. Lourence replied slowly. "Though this will have been the first I have heard of him in almost three years... as I'm sure you know, he went missing shortly after he was released from custody."

Dawson lifted his spectacles to his eyes and bent to study the letter in Basil's hands.

"What do you make of it, Basil?"

"Unfortunately very little.." Basil replied. "It appears to have been written with a bowl point nib that has been dented slightly.. to the left.. " He paused to rub it between his thumb and forefinger. "The paper is of typical Strathmore manufacture... and judging by its texture and torn left edge - unless I am very much mistaken - it has been torn from a sketch pad that was bound -" He raised the letter to his nose and sniffed it. "- in leather!"

"And how does that help us?" Dawson asked patiently.

"It doesn't Dawson," Basil replied flatly. "we're going to have to have a closer-" he cut off and pulled the paper closer to his eyes. "Aha!"

He moved between Dawson and Selena and held the paper up to the light. A faint pink ring was visible in the bottom left corner.

"A mug ring." Selena thought allowed.

"Your typical tavern mug, judging by it's size." Basil added.

Again he sniffed the paper. "Malt Liquor. And look," he motioned towards several darker areas on the paper. "In this light you can see that it has been slightly exposed to.." He pulled a magnifying glass from his coat pocket and examined the parchment. "coal dust... Also," he began, squinting his eyes. "By the look of the ink this was written in a much more humid area than what we are accustomed to.. steamed almost, as odd as that sounds."

Selena looked at him skeptically. "..Steam engines..?"

"-Whomever wrote this letter did so at a train station." Basil said quickly. "And one near by, judging by how hastily it was written."

"Now hold on just a minute..." Dawson insisted.

"We've simply got to find the nearest train station with a tavern -"

Selena felt Dr. Lourence lean over her shoulder and whisper beside her ear.

"This man's quite out of his mind!" He chuckled quietly.

"I've already deduced that much.." Selena replied, ignoring the discomfort his closeness brought upon her.

Good heavens, Basil," she heard Dawson saying. "I can already see where this is going and I am not entirely sure we want to go through -"

"Oh don't worry old chap," Basil interrupted. "We've already seen how you do in these situations. I think it may be capital of you to sit this one out."

Selena found it difficult to breath above the railroads. An evening fog had come in thick - it was a bit dizzying the way it mingled with the steam. Selena pondered the outcome of an attempt to take a photo of the backs of ones eyelids after they had been rubbed, or pressed. The result, being in black and white, she decided, would be very much similar to the steam and fog surrounding her. A grunt brought her back to the task at hand. Basil was impatiently holding his hand out to her, a few steps down.

He, like Selena, had thrown an old tattered blanket over his shoulders; he wore an oversized threadbare beret on his head, hanging low over his eyes. The mystery about him made Selena uncomfortable. So many dark and nameless figures tread in her memories.

The platform they arrived on seemed empty and lost. Unlike any other train station or metro Selena had ever been to, here there were no masses waiting to travel; here there was no life reverberating through the air. Only a few dark creatures moved slowly through the mist. Apparitions moving through a kind of limbo - searching for their train up, or down. Selena pondered train stations after death, perhaps no trains ever stopped there; They would swiftly pass everyone by, quiet as a mouse, time and time and time again.

Basil, still gripping her hand, led her towards the smells and sounds of a tavern. The sound of men's voices found her ears. Suddenly she stopped.

"I don't know if I can do this." She said breathlessly.

"Basil regarded her from under his beret. "We won't have to go inside then, maybe." Selena could see his breath. "Don't look at anyone or draw any attention."

Three figures were moving towards them. Basil pulled his hat down and continued to lead Selena along. The three figures slowly became three men, laughing amongst themselves as they approached. Selena watched them carefully from under her hat. She met the eyes of one and quickly dropped her face. As they passed one of the three slipped a finger under the rim of her hat and popped it off onto the ground. Selena gasped and wheeled to retrieve it.

"Heeey!" one of the three laughed. "So there's beauty even here!" "Come on sweetheart.." He made a quick grab at her blanket.

Selena cried out and Basil pulled her around and behind him. She saw him meet the larger mouse's gaze.

"Lets not cause any trouble." She heard him say, his voice disguised only slightly.

The Middle Mouse smiled in disbelief. Suddenly, and without warning, he swung his fist directly into Basil's stomach. Selena barely had time to scream before she was grabbed on either side by the two other men. She fought wildly, clawing and screaming. A large dirty hand closed tightly over her mouth. She struggled to bite it. She caught a glimpse of basil over the large hand delivering his fist across the Middle Mouse's nose.

"WHAT'S GOING ON OVER THERE?!" She heard voices in the distance.

"The guard." She heard the man on her right breath.

Selena bit his hand with every bit of strength should could muster. The man cried out a string of curses, pulled his hand away and released her right side.

"To hell with it!" She heard the Middle Mouse calling, already from a distance. "It's not worth it, it's not worth it!"

The man on Selena's left released her and hurried off into the fog. Selena let go of her breath and expected to feel the ground, cold and hard beneath her at any moment. She felt Basil catch her and begin to lead her away; her legs felt like water as she ran with him into a growing darkness before them in the gray.

Basil stopped to turn towards her and she collapsed into him. She could feel the wall, moist and cold against his back. She breathed dryly into his chest, her body to at motion to allow her to cry. She could feel herself shaking. She closed her eyes and envisioned every particle in her body running blindly in a panic all about her insides. She felt Basil's arms wrapped tightly around her.

The almost alarming sensation of safety came over her. She pushed it away and it's aftertaste made her sick. What did she know of trust? Nothing.

She pushed herself away from Basil's chest and looked past him to the wall, Still breathing heavily. He had led her into an alleyway. A sign hung at the left corder. It read "Tipsy's".

Basil quickly adjusted and placed one hand on her shoulder and one in her hair, pulling her closer to him.

"Just rest a moment.." he whispered. "I'm sorry I got you into this.."

A thin line of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Feeling the warmth of his hand against her face, Selena's vision began to blur. She raised her hand and made a clumsy jab at his face, rubbing the blood from the corner of his mouth. She rested her head in defeat against his chest and cried softly.

After a few moments, Basil led her gently around to the front of the pub, where they both sat, backs against the wall. Hats turned down and blankets pulled over them, the two waited in quiet vigil. Selena raised her hot eyes to the figures in the steam. Perhaps every time they turn their backs, she thought to herself, they miss another train. She lowered her head on to Basil shoulder, hiding all but her eyes under the blanket.

"Maybe we're always missing trains." She whispered. "Always turing away and what not."