Monochrome Masquerade

Our First Date

August 10: 1888

We hold several threads in our hands, and the odds are that one or other of them guides us to the truth. For it is the truth that I sought last night, the truth behind the mysterious letter.

My dear Lady, how secretive you are. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting. However, there's a light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words. And how your eyes spoke!

Simple observations revealed all, green eyes, as green as a forest floor, widened in surprise after my own spoken word. You knew who I was. Your eyes unblinking, it seemed as though they were fighting a war, my dear. The opinion of your own eyes, flickering between desire and murder.

Your posture changed, did you notice? Perhaps not. I did however, you stiffened, my dear. Previously, you were sat on the edge of a fountain depicting the Holy Mother Mary. You had glanced at the statue, as one would glance at a book, you were seeking guidance, that much is obvious. You scanned the area. What did you see? What did you observe? I am curious as to your abilities; how well can you deduce? Could you deduce me? Our eyes locked to each other, though we had quite a distance between us. I approached you, yet you never looked away.

As I observed you, I took in your appearance, a set of black pants along with a black tail coat and a white decorative shirt, quite the juxtaposition to my own outfit. They are nearly identical though I chose white over black. You sat regally, as if you were being painted, there were no painters in the park today or I might have checked if you, in fact, were posing for one.

I finally reached you, I took your hand in gesture and kissed the back of it. I checked your pulse, it was racing. I am certain you noticed that, women certainly do wear their hearts on their sleeves.

I spoke my greeting and your heartbeat increased even more, despite that you stood elegantly and curtsied, repeating my greeting as a reply. A true lady, aren't we?

I observed you yet again, now closer I could deduce more. The slight darkness under your eyes, you don't sleep much do you? Your posture was tight and poised, yet you clearly have no noble background. Your mask covered most of your face, but I could still see you, for a mask cannot cover sin, I myself know that too well. You have lost someone, very recently I might add? A sister, or a mother I surmise. I had observed you watching the family's in the area, as most are mothers and their daughters, your eyes lingered around them a little longer than the others. As you are too young to be a mother already, a sister or mother are the only options left.

The pain of losing somebody, is like losing a piece of ourselves. My heart is no longer as wholesome as it once was. Yet I hope I don't let it show as much as you do. Despite your efforts, my dear, you reveal much of your emotions to my eye. As though a book had opened on your life, I could read you quite easily. Short, underfed, small worked hands, slightly red, moist eyes, you are no noblewoman, my dear, no matter how well your manners may perceive you as one, you have worked very hard in life, and have been taught well. Your tears are recent, perhaps now mixed with the fountain water, but still the marks remain on your face, just beneath the mask.

I decided now was the time to make my move, I wanted you to know who I was, a crowded place like this? A simple, yet intimate question should do.

"You asked to meet me, my dear?"

A simple question, one that showed your true self. Your eyes narrowed in thought, a far away look still remaining from our eye contact, swiftly turned into wide realisation. A mix of horror and sadness shrouded your features, I thought for sure you would start crying once more. I am glad you did not, however, for I would of comforted you, I would of had to hold you and I fear for my self control. You are truly a beautiful lady, one can simply see that, deductions in that area are unnecessary. Thinking back, I wish you had cried, for the same purpose I had previously wish you hadn't, I would have had to hold you, comfort you.

You voice reiterated your sadness, my dear. Such a simple word, how impressive it is to hold such lengths of emotion. As my alias fell from your lips I am reminded of the present, pulled from my imagination. It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth? I hope one day, my imaginative thoughts are brought to fruition. My desire brought to reality.

Let us know a little more before we act, my dear. I wish to know more about you. I got the basics from you letter. So simple that the police surely wouldn't notice anything, yet it gave me so much. Your penmanship was self taught, again, did you lose your parents? Why would they not teach you how to write, if not?

Sadly I had to leave your presence, curiosity took the better of me as I took my leave, I turned back onto you. I saw your eyes water, more so than previous. Was a moment, enough for you to care? How odd you are, my dear. A normal woman would blush at the prospect handsome man making his acquaintance and then disappearing. The sense of mystery capturing their thoughts, a blush dusting their cheeks, more often than not. Why do you differ? The normal reactions to such a move, never graced your features. The expected confusion and frantic glances, never occurred. No. Sadness filled your features, dread living in your posture. Watery green eyes closed in thought, only to re-open in conviction.

You had a job to do, I could see. Your posture changed, and this time I'm sure you noticed. You were ready, for what, I wasn't sure, but I knew you didn't want to do it. How did I know? The single tear that broke through you barricade of conviction, falling down the right side of your face. A normal woman would be ashamed of a tear in public, in front of a religious figure no less, yet as it fell, your turned to Our Lady Mary. You looked up at her, tear still falling. Yes, a normal woman would be ashamed, you wore it like War paint. The game, my dear, is on.

~Jack