Jane paced around the room. What would she do now? Was Jack okay? How would she get back to Arthur?
Her breaths were quick and shallow, due to her panic and her stupid, stupid dress. Her aunt had made her take a bath, then stuck her in this blue dress. It resembled the dress Jane had worn when she first arrived in Saint Denis. But, the bodice was a lot tighter.
The color of it closely resemble that of the sapphire on the ring Arthur had gotten for her.
Oh, Arthur. Where are you? Of course she wanted to get out of here, but what then? She and Arthur weren't on the best of terms, so it was bold of her to assume that he would come for her at all. What if he had told the gang what happened, and none of them wanted her back?
She wanted to rip her hair and cry at the same time. She couldn't get married to some stranger. She couldn't.
But she needed the cure. Arthur needed the cure. And she couldn't leave without it.
"Jane?" Her aunt's voice rang out. "Time for your first lesson!"
She groaned, and tried to regather herself. "Coming!"
The guard followed her downstairs and into the grand room. He was the same one from Mr. Bronte's, Matteo. Mr. Bronte has insisted that he gave "the most adequate guard to keep his future daughter-in-law safe."
The whole house, or finishing school, was beautiful. The outside was green and had large balconies with plants dangling. It was very close to Mr. Bronte's, as it was just a street away.
Inside, it was just as regal as her aunt. The floor was marble, with high ceilings. There was a grand piano and a chandelier.
Coming from the small town of Valentine and living next to wagons for the past couple months, Jane felt out of her habitat. Especially with that stupid dress and flats on.
"Come along, Jane. Into the parlor." Her aunt guided her in, and had her sit down on the couch. "Now, your first lesson is about your mind."
Jane looked at her strangely.
"I understand you were running with some outlaws? Now, that is over. You live here now, in a refined and civilized area and I expect you to act as such. I want you to repeat after me, "I don't like that life. I am a graceful, submissive young lady now, and I will not go around those disagreeable people."
Jane clenched her fists together. Her aunt was trying to brainwash her?
"Come on," she said, drinking from a wine glass. "It is not polite to keep people waiting."
"Fine," She said, sighing. "I don't like that life. I am a graceful..." she trailed off, forgetting the next word.
"Submissive."
"Submissive young lady now, and I will not go around those disagreeable people." She said them flat-toned voice, and did not really mean them.
Her aunt smiled. "Good. Now, I want you to write that twenty times. And Jane," she said, placing a hand on Jane's, "I know you're probably upset about this, but it's what's best for you. You'll get to live a safe, stable life with an upright man."
Jane didn't say anything, but just stared at her.
"Good. See you're already leaving to hold your tongue. Now, get writing. I'll check back in a bit." Her heels clicked across the floor as she trotted away.
Jane huffed, and began writing.
I don't like that life. I am a graceful, submissive young lady now, and I will not go around those disagreeable people.
I don't like that life. I am a graceful, submissive young lady now, and I will not go around those disagreeable people.
Jane needed to find a way to get the cure and get out of there. Her mother and father would be arriving tomorrow, and she couldn't be here when they did.
God, she hoped Jack was okay. No one would hurt a boy, right?
She finished up the twentieth one as the guard, Matteo, moved closer to her.
"You know," he said in his Italian accent, "Stefano will be a good husband for you. He's one of my closest friends."
Jane plopped the paper and pen down. "You're not the one that has to marry him, though. I don't even know him!"
He looked thoughtful. "I suppose so. I believe you're to be meeting him at a dinner party tomorrow evening."
Jane sighed. "Of course, a dinner party. Why wouldn't it be?"
"He is very excited about this whole engagement."
"Well, that makes one of us."
Matteo shook his head and chuckled. "You're a feisty one."
Jane gave him a sarcastic smile as her aunt came back.
"Finished?" She asked.
Jane nodded.
Her aunt picked up her paper and inspected it. "Well done. See, it wasn't that hard. Now, I want to work on your posture. Stand up," she commanded, which Jane obliged to. "Push your shoulders back and keep your head even."
Jane did her best, but her aunt didn't think that was good enough. She placed her hands on her shoulders, pulling them way back, and adjusted her head. "Better."
She grabbed a book off the table and placed it on Jane's head. "Now, I want you to walk to the piano and back."
Jane walked and slowly and carefully, and was able to make it to the piano. When she was turning, however, it tumbled to the ground. Under her aunt's gaze, she picked it up, adjusted her posture, and walked back.
"Good job."
For the rest of the day, they worked on the ins and outs of the fine life etiquette. She taught her how to properly conduct herself at a dinner table, how to talk to people politely, and what a good wife looks like.
Jane hated all of it. But whenever she would be defiant, her aunt held up the cure and said, "It would be a shame if this fell to the floor and shattered, wouldn't it?"
At the end of the day, Jane had so many things to remember swimming around in her head that she didn't even have to try to sleep that night.
~~~~
"This is the place?" Dutch said. They were standing in front of the biggest mansion in Saint Denis.
Arthur scratched his chin. "Must be."
"You okay, John?" They were all speaking in a quiet tone, so no one could overhear them.
"I guess."
The got to the front gates, where two or three guards were standing. "Excuse me, sir," Dutch said. "We have an appointment to see Mr. Bronte."
"Who are you?" The guard said, moving closer to the gate.
Dutch grabbed him through the gate and pulled him against it. "You get your boss down here and now, so we can talk about this like gentlemen."
"Alright, alright," the guard begged, and Dutch released him.
He opened the gate, and the other guards aimed their guns at them while they entered.
"Laying on the old Dutch charm, ain't ya?" Arthur taunted as they raised their hands and walked through the gate.
"Oh, shut it. Now, gentlemen, we come in peace. We just need to have a word with your boss."
They entered the house, and were ushered into a side room. There, a greasy man sat with a weird hat on.
He started talking to his guards in Italian, so Arthur couldn't understand it.
"Why do you take his son and that girl?" Dutch asked. He seemed much less dignified around Mr. Bronte and his posse.
"Excuse me?" Bronte said, setting his glass down and looking at Dutch strangely.
"I said, why did you take that boy and lady?" A few guards handled their guns readily. "We ain't got no problems with you, sir," Dutch continued, "Nor you with us, but if you want to start one... there is going to be a lot of folks dead in this room before it's done."
Arthur and John placed a hand on their holsters, ready to grab a pistol if needing.
"So, you come into my city, stinking of shit and looking like this, and you come into my house- before you have a bath- and you tell me how to act? You ask me to show you compassion? Have I not shown you almost infinite compassion already by simply allowing you to breath in my presence?"
Arthur was sure that if Bronte got anymore upset he was going to start foaming at the mouth.
"Indeed you have," Dutch said, putting his hands up. "Now, we are simple country folk." He boldly invited himself to sit on the other couch, across from Bronte. "All we have is each other... and you have gone, and you have took his son and that innocent woman over some dispute with some inbred, ex-slavers. It ain't got nothing to do with any of us."
"You had nothing to do with destroying the liquor business?" Bronte yelled. The spit flying from his mouth was visible from where Arthur stood.
"We was innocent bystanders. And that which we weren't innocent of, we were ignorant of."
"You... you twist words, you lie shamelessly, you thing you are better than everyone else..." Strangely enough, he started laughing and speaking in Italian. He shook Dutch's hand, having a much more lighthearted demeanor. "Angelo Bronte."
"Dutch Van der Linde," Dutch said, and then pointed to Arthur and John. "Arthur Morgan,"
Bronte shook Arthur's hand, then moved down to John.
"And John Marston."
"Boys, the pleasure is mine."
The three men sat on the couch. Awkwardly, though. It was not nearly big enough for all of them. They each got a drink, which Arthur drank hesitantly.
"So," Dutch said, downing his glass, "Can we have his son and his woman back?" He said, gesturing to John, then Arthur.
"His woman?" Bronte said, eyeing Arthur suspiciously.
"Well, yes," Dutch continued. "They've been... uh," he trailed off when he saw Bronte's face.
"Of course, you may have the boy back, but the woman... Well, she is not mine to give."
Arthur tensed up, biting his tongue.
"Well, whatever do you mean, sir?" Dutch said.
"It appears that she is the niece of my good friend. They've been looking for her for months and I was just glad I could help reunite them. And friends, it would mean a lot to me if you don't step in between that family. I have a lot riding on it."
"Why?" Arthur could tell that Dutch was getting irritated, but he was still maintaining an upbeat tone.
"Well, she has agreed to marry my son."
Arthur nearly hurled. So she won't marry me, but she'll marry this snake's son?
"It will be a beautiful joining of me and my friend's family."
"I see," Dutch said, his eyes narrowed. "And she just willingly agreed to this?"
"Ah, seems you know her well. I will say, she is a bit feisty, but I am sure she'll turn around soon enough."
So she doesn't want to marry him? A bit of relief flooded over Arthur, but it was quickly replaced with worry. She's being held against her will then.
"But please," Bronte continued, "Don't disrupt this. I hope to remain friends, yes?"
Dutch nodded. "Well, of course. So, about the boy?"
Dutch is just going to forget about Jane like that? For some slimy, gangster man?
"Yes, yes. But... should I be out of pocket over some misunderstanding? Of course, I know you would not want that."
Dutch was hesitant. "No..."
"No, no, no. So, how about this- you preform a simple job for me, and you get your son back?"
"What is it?" Arthur asked, setting his glass on the table.
"A couple of people have taken to grave robbing in the cemetery."
"That is a fine place for it, the best," Dutch said quickly.
That just made Bronte crack up. "I love this guy," he said to one of his guards, then turned to Dutch. "I love you! See, they've taken not only to desecrating the dead, but they've done so without paying a tribute to the living. Thing is, they see my men, of course, they run a mile. So maybe, you two head off," he said, gesturing to Arthur and John, "and you, Mr. Van der Linde, stay and tell me more about my manners."
They nodded, and John and Arthur went out the the graveyard.
"You alright, Arthur?" John asked as they mounted their horses.
Arthur sighed. "I just don't know what to do. Dutch don't seem too much in a hurry to get Jane out of there, but I... I don't know. It feels strange thinking of her getting married to another man."
"I hear you, brother. But we'll get her."
"I guess we'll see."
The men did the job. They had to shoot a few people and sneak around the law, but they made out with a decent take, and were soon back to Bronte's mansion.
Jack sat there, dressed in fancy clothes. At seeing his father, he ran to John and into his arms. "Pa!"
"Oh, Jack," John said, swinging him up. "I've missed you!"
"I've miss you too," Jack said. "But Papa Bronte treated me well."
"Good, good."
Jack continued. "I was with Auntie Jane for a while, but then she was taken away but an old lady and a man with a gun."
All the breath was forced out of Arthur's lungs. He leaned up against the gate pillar for support. Was she being mistreated? I swear, I will tear them all apart, lim-
"Son, you alright?" Dutch asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm fine," he managed.
"Alright. Well, Singore Bronte, we best be heading home. Thank you for your hospitality." Dutch gave him a small bow, the lead the men out.
"You sure you're alright?" He repeated as they mounted up.
"Yeah- Yes. But Dutch, we gotta get her back."
"I know, son. But right now, we have an in with the most powerful man in this city. We can't blow that yet."
"Dutch, she's getting into a marriage I'm sure she don't want. I can't just sit back and watch."
"I need you to trust me," Dutch said, leading the group back to Shady Belle.
"I do- of course I do. But you understand what I'm saying, right?"
"Yes, I do. And we will get her back. All in good time, friend."
Then Jack spoke up. "Has Mamma missed me?"
"Yes," John answered. "More than you know."
"Papa Bronte taught me a bunch of words in Italian."
Arthur could see John wince. "Don't call him that."
"Cavallo is a horse. And, he gave me something call 'Spaghetti.' It looks like worms but it tastes super yummy."
"Sounds like you had a good time," John said.
"It was alright. But I want to go home. When will Auntie Jane be home?"
Arthur's whole chest hurt at that. He didn't want to lie to Jack, but he didn't want to tell him the whole truth either. "She'll be home soon," he said. "But right now, it's good to have you back, Jack."