Masquerade

Chapter 6

Ok guys, SORRY it took me SO LONG to upload, and I know that this is a really short chapter, and i'm sorry. I was going to make it longer, but it seemed like a good place to end. I will post the next chapter very shortly, I promise. Anyways, this chapter definitely isn't the best, but it has some important information in it. The next chapter is a lot more interesting, but hopefully you guys like this one too.

DONT FORGET TO VOTE, COMMENT, AND FAN! 

______________________________________

{Persephone}

Back in my house, I leaned against my bedroom wall and prayed that Alexander had the sense not to come here looking for me. Usually after our fights he stayed away, giving me the silent treatment. Not that I would have talked to him anyway. 

Alexander and I had been in an affair for almost two years now. I had first met him when he bumped into me on the streets, and he had to court me for months until I accepted his love. Normally in society, the couple would marry at that time, but I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. Still, ever since, he has been trying to persuade me into. Eventually he learned of my thieving ways, and he thinks that if we married, I wouldn’t have to be involved in an illegal profession, or any profession at all, and could stay at home to care for the children while he earned our family money as a blacksmith. Even after much protesting on my part, he was impossible to convince.

But I hadn’t minded at first. Alexander was ever the gentleman when we first met, and I enjoyed immensely being treated like a lady. He was so sweet to me, giving me fresh picked flowers and strolling down England’s streets, not ashamed to be seen with me. But then as time went on, he became different, showing a new side of him. He would flare up at the smallest of things, berate me on everything, and sometimes would even go so far as to insult me. When this happened, I would put on a brave face and yell back, or tell him to go away. I wasn’t going to let him control me. No matter what anyone said, I would not change who I was. I was stronger than that, stronger than those flimsy pretty girls in the elaborate and colorful dresses. And I loved myself for it. It just hurt sometimes. 

Outside the small window, the sun was sinking in the sky, its fiery light slowly sinking behind the rolling hills. Sighing, I lay down on my silky sheets and tried to calm the storm in my head. 

{Warren}

Inside my family’s huge house, I pondered what to do next. There was no question in my mind that I needed to find the girl. She had heard my secret, and I couldn’t be sure who she would tell. 

But how could I take time to do that, with such a pressing matter on my hands? My family unknowingly relied on me to protect them, and the only way I could do that was murder, although that defied everything I was. 

But that was what he wanted, and I had no choice. 

My baby sister Lucy slept just across the hall, oblivious to everything happening around her. 

Not realizing that if I didn’t kill someone, that she would be dead within the week. And not just her, but everyone. Mother. Grandmother Winifred. My sister, beautiful fifteen year old Charlotte. My older brother Robert, who was away in the countryside with his new wife Cassandra and their one year old son Benjamin.  He would kill them too. 

And of course, there would be me. 

_____________________________________________

The next morning, I tried to forget about my fears and problems and have the day be normal. I didn’t have to think about murdering someone until nighttime, when I was going to meet up with Robin and attempt to explain the situation. Although there were so many things I couldn’t tell him, he might still be able to help me. 

Groaning as I rose from the light silk sheets, I forced myself to fully wake. The house was mostly silent, with only the soft sounds of the murmuring maids outside my door. One of them, hearing me rise, entered my large and luxurious room.

“Good morning Mr. Dalton, how do you do? Could I fetch anything for you?” She inquired hesitantly. 

“Yes…”

“Mary, sir.” 

“Yes Mary. If you could bring me one of Freda’s delicious scones? She must have made them, for I can smell their wonderful fragrance from my third floor room.” I tried to keep my tone lighthearted, but Mary seemed to sense something. 

“It would be a pleasure sir. Are you sure you would like nothing else? Perhaps a calming tea?”

“No, Mary, although it is very kind of you ask. If you would leave, so I may dress?”

She curtsied and quietly left the room. I could hear the patter of her little footsteps descending the servants stair. I hurriedly pulled on suitable garments for the day, as I would be going to work at my fathers bank. This was merely for my own pleasure, since our family was wealthy enough for no one to work. But I despised staying at home all day, whiling away my time with pleasant chatter. As I descended the large, carpeted grand staircase, the smell of butter scones filled my nostrils and made my stomach groan. The timid maid Mary approached me at the bottom and handed me three scones on a sliver platter. Leaning against a marble pillar I ate them hastily, unable to fully savor their taste before leaving my families large house and climbing into the awaiting carriage. 

The carriage finally arrived at the bank, where I descended the small steps, bid the driver away, and entered the enormous building. The ground floor was crowded with hurried citizens, but I skirted around the crowd and used my key to enter a long hallway. I paced through it until I came to a ornamented staircase that led to my private office, where I handled the more delicate, overall finances and negotiations. The room was spacious, and used to be where my father worked before the bank did so well and he made his fortune. Now he prefers to stay at home or go on outings with other aristocrats. After I started to work here, he had the space marvelously redone. The room itself is much fancier than the work. The chair is large and cushioned, and my father bought the finely carved oak desk recently. There are large windows in the office, unusual and expensive. On the soft green walls hang large, expensive paintings. I settled myself down and prepared for a day of satisfying work. 

However, the day was not as satisfying as I had hoped. Although I tried my hardest to immerse myself in figures, it was impossible to forget my situation. By noon I was ready to pull my hair out. The space in front of me was littered with papers, most of them not relating to the work I was trying to do. On them were sketches of my family, and the only words I had previously received from my tormentor. 

“Kill him, or your family dies.” 

There was something else on the note I had gotten. It was a picture of the heir to the throne, Queen Victorias son, Prince Albert Edward. 

_________________________________

You might know Prince Albert Edward by a different name, Edward VII. Thats what he changed him name to eventually...