Chapter Two

The next morning I woke up to my mother rushing into my room, the silks on her dresses rustling by, “Rayel Williams, how could you leave this window open all night! You could catch an illness!”

For a few moments I had trouble understanding why my window had been open, then the memory of last night's events came flooding back to me. The stranger, my ring, that strange book.

“Mr. Stark,” I whispered as I jumped to check my jewelry tray, sighing as I saw my grandmother's ring still sitting there.

My mother stood there, watching me with a stern look from in front of my window. The light coming from behind her cast her entire form as a shadow. Seemed light a perfect look for her, seeing as she was always following me, waiting to point out my every mistake.

“Who is Mr. Stark?”

“Who?”

She sighed, crossing her arms, “I don’t know who you think you are but in this house you will act as a lady is expected. Get yourself properly dressed and meet your father and I for breakfast.”

“Actually, mother, I was hoping to go out today.”

She stopped at my door, turning to look me in the eyes, “Rayel, you know you are not permitted to leave this house. After yesterday’s incident your father and I can barely recover. How do you expect to find a husband when you keep putting yourself in such situations?”

I looked down at my feet, “Perhaps my main goal in life isn’t to find a husband.”

Before I could think my mother pulled my chin up, her grip rather strong despite appearances, “You have but two jobs in this lifetime: find a suitable husband, and do as you are told. You will make yourself look respectable and join your father and I for breakfast in the dining hall, as I have told you once before. If you cannot handle this simple direction you will be put out.”

She dropped my chin and took a step back. I felt hot tears burning behind my eyes as I attempted to swallow them down. The anger she held in her eyes faltered slightly as we both stood in silence, staring at each other. Before my first tear fell she turned away, her harsh words echoing in my mind.

I had always known my parents did not approach my hobbies with kindness, forever wishing for my to change my ways and wants. Always dreaming of the day that I would wake up and be interested in hosting teas and meeting suitors. Never, in even their darkest nightmares, would I be interested in the deepest, darkest parts of human nature.

Oftentimes I wondered if perhaps I chased after the darkness of others in order to escape my own.

I couldn’t be sure if my parents would truly turn me out, although I did not wish to find out.

Quickly I swiped the fallen tears from my face and dressed myself. I had chosen a wonderful dress with blue skirts, matching my light blue eyes. It’s top was a pure white, mother's favorite colour for me, always saying it could fool a man into thinking I was of good thoughts.

My blonde hair fell in curls across my shoulders, two shorter pieces of hair left to frame my face. It was the exact hairstyle my friend, Abigail Lee Walker, had done for me last I saw her.

She was truly talented in fitting into society's view, at least to everyone else. Only I knew of her thirst for the darker things in life. I smiled at the thought of her speaking of her favorite ballgown while daydreaming of dissecting a dead creature in the street.

With my grandmother's ring on my finger, I marched my way to the dining hall, hoping to play the role of perfect daughter well enough to be left to venture into town. I didn’t much like being late, and my curiosity about the strange Mr. Stark was near boiling over.

It was terribly quiet as I entered the room, the only sounds being the rustling of the newspaper and the slight clinking of utensils. My nerves began to rise again as my father lowered his copy of the paper, “Good morning, Rayel.”

His voice was undeniably flat as he spoke, showing zero emotion so as to make one even more nervous than before.

As I sat down, I buried my shaking hands in my skirts, “Good morning, father, mother. I trust you both slept well?”

“One wishes. I find it most difficult to sleep when I am worrying of how my daughter's actions will affect her future.”

I silently sipped the tea that had been prepared before my arrival, no part of my being wanted to have this conversation.

“I surely have doubts of her even having a future after yesterday.” My mother so calmly chimed in, sipping her tea as she picked up her own copy of the paper.

I was sure I shouldn’t open my mouth, nothing good ever came from that. Deciding that ignoring the conversation about my doom was probably my best course of action, I picked up my own paper. There was an ad for a new clothing shop downtown, Stark's Threads. Odd, I had only just met a Mr. Stark. Perhaps it had been a coincidence. On the next page was something more appropriate for my interests.

"Police Investigation For Gruesome Murder Continues"

Every part of my being wanted to rush out of the house and meet Mr. Edwards, the chief of police, to discuss the case. Mr. Edwards was my father's closest childhood friend; that is until he found out that Mr. Edwards was allowing, even encouraging, me, to help in investigations. I was sure my father was close to strangling him yesterday.

Although, I still needed to meet with Mr. Stark. I needed to know that last night hadn’t been an elaborate dream I’d invented to deal with the stress.

“What are your days plans?" I asked the table, looking between my mother and father over my cup of tea waiting to see who would answer first.

“I have business to attend to at the university.” My father was a world renowned English professor. Often he would find himself travelling across the country giving lectures to all sorts of schools. Next year the whole family is to travel to the Americas for one of these lectures.

“I will be attending a tea at Mrs. Walkers estate, helping with the plans for her daughter's coming out ball.”

Perfect. Both my parents would be gone long enough for me to meet with Mr. Stark and perhaps sneak over to the police station. It took my all to keep a grin from taking over my face.

“Seeing as you will be home, perhaps you could catch up on your readings. Seeing as you would like to act a fool, you could learn something for once. I might even write you an exam.”

My father always knew exactly how to crush my hopes. He was clever enough to catch on to my sudden intrigue into their lives.

I would just have to bring the book with me, “I assure you, father, I will not fail.”

***

I listened closely for the door to shut, signalling that both my parents had left for their day's endeavors. Waiting a minute longer, I tiptoed down the stairs and to the back kitchen.

All of our house staff had been elsewhere in the house, how convenient. I imagine our cook, Miss Mary Carter, was out fetching ingredients for the week's meals. Miss Carter has been with us since before I was born. In a way I considered her an aunt, she was most certainly more caring than my mother.

When I was much younger, I had discovered tunnels that ran under our house. They were very small and dimly lit, making it difficult as I grew older to navigate, especially with my skirts. This tunnel lead straight to the backyard where I often made my escapes, venturing to my truest self.

The other tunnels all lead to different rooms of the house, however those were not as useful as I had once thought them to be. One lead from my room to the main sitting room; however, if I had used that and someone were to be there, it could ruin me. I did not need my parents knowing that I ventured in dusty dirt tunnels throughout the house behind their backs.

I emerged through a small wooden door covered in strategically placed leaves and shrubbery in the farthest corner of our property.

This house has been in our family for many years, although I’m not sure what purpose these tunnels could have had.

After a brisk walk, I made it into town. People were coming in and out of shops, carriages stood still as they waited for the crowd of people. It was always busy, however this seemed more so than usual. In particular, there was one shop that had many young men and women flooding its doors. Stark's Threads was the new clothing shop, it also happened to be the name of the man I was supposed to be meeting with.

Pushing through the sea of young men and women, I finally made my way to the front to see what everyone was fussing about. I could not believe my eyes when I finally saw him.

The very same Mr. Stark stood on a table, tall as ever, “Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you there is plenty enough of me to go around.”

He had that devilish smirk on his face, winking at a young lady in the crowd. She practically fell at his feet.

He was wearing a white dress shirt with a dark burgundy vest, almost the colour of blood. The lack of a proper jacket made his arms more visual, and the entire charade he was putting on ever more scandalous.

In one hand, he held up a magnificent dress, the same colour as his vest with black sequins stitched in wonderful swirling patterns. It was probably one of the most beautiful dresses I had seen.

In the other hand, he held a suit with a gold vest and matching tie. Men's clothing had always been the dark, professional colours, never had I seen something like it. If a young man walked around in something like that I could be sure that every woman would be swooning over him.

“As this is my grand opening I will be giving these two items away, free of charge, to whom I decide would look best in my creations.” He scanned the crowd and found a dashing young man about my age, “You there, yes you, the handsome one, come here.”

The young man made his way to the table, looking up to Mr. Stark, his smooth black hair falling from in front of his face.

“Come on up, don’t be shy, let us see if you are the proper man for the job.”

Before the poor boy could blink, Mr. Stark was pulling him up as if he weighed nothing. After a few seconds the man regained his balance. He looked ever so pale as he looked out at the crowd. He seemed as if he had never had this much attention on him before. Upon further notice, I could see slight tears in his jacket and holes in his shoes. Despite first appearances, this young man came from a less fortunate family.

Mr. Stark grabbed the boys face and turned it to his, it was a soft touch, one of comfort, “Don’t worry about them, this is about you, no one else.”

He the suit up to boy and smiled, “Now this makes you look even more handsome than before, which I had not previously thought to be possible. It’s yours,” He shoved the suit into his hands, “Go to the back and my assistant Mrs. Rogers will help you with some new shoes, also free of charge. Don’t be a stranger.” He winked at the young man before standing up again, the dress now the only thing in his hands.

The crowd was growing more excited by the minute. Mr. Stark took his time, dragging out their near hysterics for as long as he could, until his eyes stopped on me. That same smirk only grew, making me feel as if I was about to be in serious trouble, “You.”

I could not be seen, not when I was supposed to be locked away in my home catching up on my readings. I tried to back away, maybe I could escape without anyone else noticing me.

I felt hands on my back pushing me forward, “You cannot possibly turn down his offer, it’s such a beautiful gown!” The young girl shoved me forward once more and I stumbled in front of the table, “Nice to see you again. Glad you could find me.”

“You made it fairly easy by plastering your name onto the front of a building.”

“I thought it best to play it simple for now.” He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.

With a heavy sigh I grabbed his hand and was pulled up on top of the table with him. Looking out at the crowd, I could see a mixture of smiles and jealous sneers shot in my direction.

Leaning over I whispered into his ear, “I don’t have time for such showmanship, please get this over with quickly.”

He mock bowed at me, “As you wish, my lady,” standing towards the crowd again he made his announcement, “This fair lady will be honored with this dress as I believe she will be just as honored to be my guest at tonight’s harvest ball in the park.”

The crowd collectively gasped while a few girls fainted at the thought. I am sure that I much resembled that of a tomato as blood rushed to my face, “What do you think you are doing?” I hissed, a wavering smile plastered on my face as I watched the crowds eager stares.

“I believe I am keeping my promise.”

“What possible promise would that be?”

“The one to steal you away from that gloomy house like the thief I am.” He held out his hand, waiting to see if I would take it.

I couldn’t possibly accept his invitation, I had barely known of his existence for 12 hours, for all I knew he could make me the next bloodied headline. However, it could be a reliable reason my parents could agree with. If I was presented with a possible suitor, they would be only too glad to get me out of the house.

After a few moments of thought, I slowly laid my hand in his, therefore accepting his invitation. He brought my hand to his lips for a soft, gentlemanly kiss and then turned back to the crowd, “I expect to see you lot back in her soon for all your cloth needs.” And with that he bowed, ending his elaborate stunt.

After we both were safely on the ground I turned to him, “You put that ad in the paper knowing I would see it.” It wasn’t so much a question than an observation.

“I like puzzles, you like a challenge. It was my way to get your attention.”

He held the dress out to me, “I know you did not accept my invitation because of my charm, but I must ask if you do enjoy the gown.”

He has a confident face on, yet I could see a glimpse of the broken man from the night before. He needed approval from all those around him. That explained his act for the crowd.

“It is a very beautiful gown indeed, who made it?”

“Well I did, of course.”

I stared back at him, he didn’t seem the type to know how to do such things, “You made this?”

“Not all by myself, I certainly had some assistance from Mrs. Rogers, but I did design it by myself. I wanted someone to be able to match me, in style and in wit.” He let his words hang for a moment before stepping back, “I assume you would like more answers about last night?”

I blinked, looking down at the dress, momentarily forgetting the purpose of coming here, “Yes, that would be lovely, if you could.”

He lead me to a back office. It was fairly empty, a small desk with just two chairs on either side. We had passed Mrs. Rogers on the way back, she was measuring a young man. She was a bit older than I had imagined.

It was dark in his office, making it all the more sad. Despite the brightness in the rest of the building, this room was dark, cold, dead. Looking back at the man who owned it I could see how he much resembled it. He put on a mask of bright life, but behind it he was lost, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing with his life.

“I haven’t got much time so if you could please just explain to me what you need my help with that would be much appreciated.”

He sat behind the desk, motioning for me to sit in the seat across. His eyebrows now stitched in confusion, “That’s what you’re more focused on? Not the fact that your ring glowed so bright you were nearly blinded or that it seemed to house all of London's ink under that stone?”

He spoke much quicker than normal. I was unsure if it was out of panic or just plain sarcasm towards the situation, “I have a feeling all of that is a much larger conversation that I could not possibly have the time, or energy, to understand. Now, what could I do to help you?’

He stared a moment longer, eyes flickering to the ring on my finger for just a moment, before finally speaking, “As you wish, Miss Williams.”