A Story To Die For

Fast track

Chapter Eight -
Saturday, 6th May 1911

"So, what did you conjure?" Florence questioned, sitting down at the table, straight to the point; quite frankly startling Walter whose back was turned to her way of approach.

"Good morning to you too," Walter chuckled.

"Well come on don't leave me hanging- wait what happened to your face?" Florence cut herself off, noticing the very apparent scratch mark down the side of Walters cheek.

"Oh just, caught it on a sticking out nail, Jacksons fixing it as we speak," He brushed off, taking a sip of his drink.

"Ok... anyway, so go on tell me... does it work?" Florence asked, watching as Walter poured tea into her tea cup.

"Oh it works, but I'd say seven minutes is too quick for the victim to die, the wound would be too small for them to bleed out that fast, plus a rusty knife causes a serrated cut, the 'prey' as you so put it passes out from the pain before the wound could kill them, their heart rates now slower so it takes about twelve minutes for their pulse to stop..." Walter stopped, realising he was rambling on.

Florence's eyes were wide with shock, "How would you know that?" She breathed uncomfortably, unsure of whether she should be scared or not.

"Oh, um an old friend of mine, he works down at the mortuary-"

"Is he a body snatcher?" Florence interrupted.

"No-" He quickly tutted in jest "body snatcher, they haven't been around since the eighties... no he prepares bodies for funerals... he knows all about wounds and unusual deaths etcetera." Walter quickly cleared up.

"Oh, well that's interesting, I'll have to meet this man, maybe he could inspire some columns" Florence nervously laughed but when Walter didn't respond she changed the subject.

"Should you not get that checked? It could get infected," She said, motioning to the scratch.

"Oh, no it's fine, anyway tell me about your trip out with Olive yesterday."

Florence sighed, a small feeling of dread tugging in the back of her mind. She had an inkling that Walter was hiding something, she just didn't know what.

"It was good, I got what I wanted as did she, all round successful trip out!" Florence spoke vaguely.

Walter now sighed, quietly but not so that Florence didn't hear. He had an inkling she was hiding something... he just didn't know what.

"Would you like anything ma'am?" A waitress asked. "Oh, no thank you, just another tea please" Florence smiled timidly at the woman who nodded, taking the empty teapot.

"I have another uh, piece of writing, do you think your friend would look it over... see if it works?" she spoke, a bit more confidently.

"Absolutely, I'm sure he'd love to look it over."

"Here you are ma'am" The waitress had returned, the new cup of tea in hand.

"Thank you,"

"I want to show you something," Walter announced rather suddenly.

"Wha- but I just got a new cup-" she looked at Walter and scrunched her lip to the side, stopping herself from saying anymore as he looked at her expectantly.

"I'll get another later" She huffed, the two pulling out and leaving a few coins on the table before walking away.

The two walked through the town, towards the east side where most of the shops turned into mills and warehouses, "What are we doing on this side of town Walter?" She questioned, shivering from a slight and sudden blast of cold air which caught in the road like a wind tunnel.

"As I was strolling earlier this morning I caught sight of a familiar name on the pile of papers... look at that!" He turned her by the shoulders, the two now facing a newsagents stall, a stack of newspapers piled high.

"Oh my god... that's me!" She stuttered... "That's me, that's my story, I'm on the front page!" she grabbed a paper, reading the headline.

'Gory stories, a column by Clefreno Duplantier is taking the city by storm'

"People like my stories... well Clefreno's stories, they really like them!" she beamed, tossing a few pennies to the man occupying the stall.

"They really do Florence, you're a talented writer" She held the paper to her chest, hugging it as if it were her biggest achievement, not caring if her mother would scold her for getting ink marks all over herself.

"Florence... will you marry me?" Walter asked, out of the blue and sinserce.

"Well yes... I kind of already was" She laughed in confusion.

"No, I mean will you marry me... I will ask your father today, if you agree that is." He clarified, pulling a cream velvet box from his inner coat pocket, inside sat a sapphire and diamond ring. He failed to mention the fact he had received blessing from her father already, who was more than eager to marry Florence off, a trait Walter wasn't envious of.

"Oh," She exclaimed... "Wow" she took a moment to think. "Ok, sure, what's stopping us?"

"Amazing... Well let's go" Walter beamed, taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger.

The pair walked back through town, finding Walters' car where Jackson sat... Florence raised an eyebrow.

"Jackson... wasn't he fixing the nail?"

"Oh, yes- well he must have finished, isn't that right Jackson, I assume that rebelling nail in the wall is fixed" Walter raised both eyebrows in insinuation, Jackson catching on quickly.

"Oh, yes Sir, that nail is long gone" He smiled, but once both were in the car he himself furrowed his eyebrows in confusion; he had learnt not to question his employer, merely go along with whatever whim each day entailed.

"Take us to Darrington Hall Jackson, I must speak with Mr Darrington" Walter commanded.

"Very good sir!"