#WKM10

[revengeoftheantichrist]

What Kind of Man

Warnings: Possessive behaviour

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Chapter 10: Letters

You were surprised at how hungry you were just from sitting for a portrait. Almost every hour you got up to stretch your legs and eat something.

Richard had finished the sketches and thumbnails by 7 pm, not needing you for anymore sittings. You had tried to catch a glimpse of the work, but Michael insisted that you only see the complete image once it was finished.

“Do you already have a portrait Michael?” you asked, curious as to why you didn’t get one together.

“I do, that’s why I wanted one of you to match, they’ll be put next to each other,” he smiled at you, kissing your hand.

Mrs Mead brought your dinner out, you ate it faster than Michael ate your cakes. You swallowed your last bite and wiped your lip, “Why didn’t we get one together?”.

“We will my love, in the spring where the flowers are staring to bloom, and the leaves are at their greenest. We’ll get one to symbolise new life then.”

You were satisfied with his answer, waiting on tea and cakes.

////

The next day, Michael had errands to run in the nearby town. It seemed that your own sickness had retuned, vomiting the contents of your stomach as soon as you had opened your eyes that morning. You must have eaten too much the day before. Despite the state you were in, you decided to go with him, wanting to see more of the county you were technically responsible for, you were a Countess after all.

The carriage ride wasn’t long, half-an-hour at most. The weather was clear, a cloudless sky above you. The townspeople seemed a little wary around your husband, stepping out of the way and avoiding eye contact. This troubled you. But then again, you knew nothing about the relationship between a Count and his people. You took in your surroundings as you walked towards the Langdon family’s Lawyer and Accountant, Mr Nutter and Mr Pfister. Your impression of the pair was not too great, vaguely remembering your awkward interaction at the midsummer ball. It seemed that their habit of leering hadn’t changed.

“It’s made our week now that you’ve brought your beautiful bride with you,” said Jeff.

“Don’t you both have children to get home to,” you spat back, not knowing what had come over you to speak in such a manner. Michael only laughed at your response, not giving any indication of being displeased at your sudden outburst.

He held out his wallet, “There’s a lovely market in the town square today, Jim will take you and I’ll come find you after I’m done,” he instructed.

You nodded and thanked him, taking the wallet. You did not want to spend any more time near those two.

You were greeted by Jim when you left the building. He started to lead the way to the market, and you got a closer look at his face.

“Jim? What happened to your eye?” you asked. The area around his eye was scarred, as if it had been burned. The eye itself was a dead white colour, it was no longer the blue ocean it used to be.

He turned his head away. “There was … an accident with a fire in the stables… I couldn’t turn away in time,” he explained.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore, I’m fine as long as I can still see out of the other,” he finished. You guessed he didn’t want to go any further. The sky seemed to cloud up at the end of your conversation.

You had arrived at the market. It was slightly bigger than the one your own village had; you missed it dearly. You smiled and said your ‘good afternoons’ getting lost in what the market had to offer.

You reached the flower stall, just wanting to take a look.

“I neve thought I’d be visited by the countess herself,” said the florist.

“Oh I hope I’m not intruding,” you replied. Small purple flowers caught your eye. You hadn’t seen them in the garden before.

“If I were you my Lady, I’d take some verbena flowers with me and keep them with me at all times.”

“I’ve never seen them before. What are they for?”

The florist looked around, before wrapping a bunch and holding them out to you. “They are said to protect from evil, you never know when you’ll encounter the devil,” he whispered.

You moved to pay him. “Please, these are a gift from me. I won’t take that man’s money. But My Lady, Please, get as far as you can,” the florist finished, quickly moving onto the next customer and leaving you confused.

You couldn’t give the interaction too much thought before Jim came to get you, leading you to the carriage where Michael was waiting.

“Out of all the things the market had to offer, you found the smallest flowers to waste my money on. They might as well be weeds,” Michael complained.

“Oh stop being childish, I like them, they’re delicate,” you chided.

“I hate the smell,” he scooted away from you. You just shook your head. The nausea from earlier beginning to creep up again.

////

You chose to spend the rest of your day in your old refuge, the library. The sky was grey, no longer the bright blue it had been earlier. You chose a few books to press your new flowers in, hoping to use them as a reference for your embroidery piece.

You liked to find a new nook or cranny to read in, preferring the comfort of a confined space. You found a space in the far corner of the library, bringing candles for when it inevitably got dark and your embroidery, to give you a variety of ways to spend the time.

You got settled into your seat, getting lost in the book. You moved to adjust your head, your neck getting sore from the position you were in. As you moved, you heard the wall ‘click’ behind you, your head abruptly falling back into a newly revealed alcove. What on earth was this?

You moved onto your knees to look behind you. A little piece if the wall had slid out, revealing a secret cavity in the wall. It was only as deep as the bookshelves that surrounded you. There was only one thing in there.

A small wooden box.

Why was it hidden in here?

You knew you wouldn’t be disturbed for another hour, so you allowed your curiosity to get the best of you. Elizabeth’s words echoed in your head.

You pulled the box out. It was simple, no decoration or carving on it. There wasn’t even a lock. You slowly lifted the lid, holding your breath at what you may find. A look of confusion washed over you.

Envelopes.

It was a box full of envelopes.

Your fingers twitched and you pulled one out. The letter was addressed to ‘Madame Cordelia’ at ‘Académie Robichaux’ in Paris. You were more confused than you were before. The letter never reached its destination as it was still sealed. The wax seal matching the signet ring Michael had gifted to you, the same seal your letters were sent with.

Your hands shook as you opened the letter, dreading to see what you would find inside.

‘ Ms. Cordelia

Please, I beg of you. I need a reply. I need your help. How many more of these should I send for you to take me seriously, for you to stop ignoring me. You always asked what kind of man he was. We were wrong, I was wrong. He is no man. He is a monster, a beast. And he’ll kill me. Please please please send a priest for me. I fear I do not have much longer.

Madison’

Your breathing became erratic and you could taste the bile. You frantically looked through the box. All letters addressed to Robichaux. All unsealed. The handwriting getting more frantic on each envelope.

The last one was just addressed ‘Cordelia’. No address, no destination.

‘This is my final letter. I have lost too much blood. I will not survive the night. You cannot save me. Save the next one. He chants her name and spends hours with her picture, like a devotee at a temple, a fanatic. He said she will be successful. He’s hungrier than ever now, I can no longer satiate him. Saver her. Save Y/N

Madison’

You were in danger. You could feel it. You knew then that your own letters didn’t reach your mother.

You couldn’t dwell on it too long, the opening of the library door pulling you out of your thoughts. You scrambled to put the box away, sliding the façade back in place, hoping the click wasn’t loud enough to alert the intruder.

“My Lady? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

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