Realistic or Modern Victorian London

[GreyZone]

It took everything within Margaret's body to keep from reaching back to check the wound on his head from that wicked woman's cane. "If I could be frank," she began, even though her voice quivered just a touch, "and quite unladylike, I am painfully in love with your brother, Madame, and will not take kindly to spending the rest of my life as a spinster so he may wed a woman he does not know due to her last name and her coin purse." She had to whisper the last bit, dreading the two women's response.


Diana arched one eyebrow at the impudent little redhead. She almost looked like a child, perched their on the couch while her eyes flitted uncomfortably back and forth between the women and Mr. Edwards. "Oh, miss, surely you would be able to find some other man."


She knew Margaret's type perfectly well--uneducated and loose girls who clung to men who could buy them pretty dresses and hats and little trinkets. She simply did not understand at all, especially if she was foolish enough to believe she was in love. Women didn't love the men they married. It was possible that a fondness could come, in time, but this girl was a fool.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor looked at Margaret and smiled lightly, but before he managed to say anything another hit from the cane kissed his head. He had started to get quite fed up with the ladies behaviour and frowned with frustration. "I ask you to not insult my dear Margaret."


Lucille sighed and shook her head. "Do not make me apologise for your stupidity, the both of you. Victor, I do not know jow you managed to trick love out of this girl but it is far too cruel."


"How much?" Said the old lady, looking at Margaret. "How much will it cost for you to walk away, hmh? We have coin, enough to suite you. How does five-hundred pounds sound?"

 

[GreyZone]

That was it, and Margaret leapt to examine the wound on the back of his head, making sure she had not split the skin. Diana offered her a pitiful smile. The poor girl was so lovesick she was blind.


For a moment, she thought of all those five hundred pounds could do for her family. All of those children, the salloon becoming run-down and worn. She had abandoned them, caused them so much pain--


But then the image of this woman, wedding and kissing the man beside her, sharing his bed and having his children and witnessing every moment that she would have to spend without him was so horrifying and heartbreaking that she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor could not help but feel rather warm when Margaret showed such care for him. There was a small wound over the back of his skull, not enough to stick blood to his hair however. Edwards had never been cared for before, not like this. "Thank you dear."


"Victor. You know all too well that this is unacceptable. I will simply take charge and make you do the right think." Lucille said sternly. "There will be a wedding, certainly, but not between a nobleman and a commoner.


"Young ma'am. Five hundred pounds and... education." The old lady said. Narrowing her eyes at Margaret. " we will pay for any education you find suitable. If you leave."

 

[GreyZone]

She rolled her lower lip through her teeth, her hand dropping to the back of his neck after she examined the wound. Margaret knew that there was a chance she wouldn't get to touch him again and she wanted to while she could.


"My absence can't be bought," Margaret replied in a quiet voice, her eyes trained on him. "But if Mr. Edwards tells me to leave...then I will. It has to be his decision."

 

[Syrrus]

Victor looked upon Margaret and placed his trembling hands on her shoulders. He knew that he had promised a life with her, yet there was no way he could do so with his family name. If he stood up and refused the marriage arranged for him their family namn would be damaged. Perhaps he would even be cut off. No money to be a artist with, and no money to care for hos wife with.


"Marry me not." Victor said and placed her hand over his heart. "Have my heart and not my hand. Take what is given to you and become the woman I know you are."


He planted his lips against her forehead. "I will not throw upon you the disgrace of being wed to me. I will care for you however, like I've done since the day I sang you my first poem."

 

[GreyZone]

A quiet sob caught in her throat at his words, but she quickly ducked her head to hide her face from the three women in the room. This conversation should not be happening here, and she had to clench her skirt with her hands to keep them from shaking with anger that her possible last moments with him were available for them to see.


"If you want me to…go back to where I was four years ago than I will,” she whispered to him, wishing he was the only one who could hear her words. “But I hope you understand that I shall not be happy. I am not a child anymore, I’m not a fool, and it makes me angry that all we have…done together is now worthless and a setback to me.” She was referencing her purity, in an attempt to keep the ladies from hearing. “I know it was my fault but I am still heartbroken over this loss.”


Diana was not quite sure what to make of this little display. Would she be forced to hear her future husband “sing poetry” as he spoke of to this poor redhead girl? She just offered a weak smile, growing more and more strained as the conversation progressed.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor didn't wish her gone. Nor did he wish to break her heart, but he had little else he could do. What he wanted did not matter however. He stroke her over the cheek and went to stand, looking at his future wife with grey eyes. He couldn't bid Margaret goodbye. He had warned her of misery. "Shall we join in the music room, ma'am. To speak of the future?"


He left his hat upon the sofa and walked calmly through the room. Lucille continued to drink her tea, while watching Margaret in silence.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret's eyes widened in an attempt to keep anything from spilling, and her whole body stiffened as he spoke to his new bride. How had it changed so quickly?


"Of course, sir," Diana replied as she rose, her eyes trained on the other young woman. She knew her marriage would be a business relationship and she did not pretend that it was anything but.


When her former fiancé and his new promised wife left the room, Margaret turned to the two women remaining. In a cold voice, she informed them, "I hope you understand that I could be carrying his child. The Americas are quite cold." She was bluffing a bit--she had only missed one cycle, but it did not surprise her as she had been hurling her body through so much change. She wanted to see the terror in their eyes that their dear nobleman might have gotten the daughter of a poor immigrant bartender in the family way.

 

[Syrrus]

The old lady wrinkled her nose in distaste, clearly not inpressed by the young woman's vulgarity, she simply found Margaret disrespectful. It was clear that the old woman didn't much care for the threat while Lucille got tea stuck in her throat.


"My dear." Said the old hag coldly. "If you are trying to give us nothing but ill with your faul words, if you believe us terrified by the news you're surely mistaken. The bastard of a grandson has slept with many a women in his lifetime."


Lucille stroke tea from her lip. "It is a reason why he is so disliked. You are nothing special, dearie."

 

[GreyZone]

"I know about all the people he has...slept with," Margaret replied, taking care to say people instead of women as they obviously did not know the whole story. Despite the fact that she no longer had her virginity, she still struggled to speak of it so plainly like this. "But I must beg to differ, as I don't see how any of the others managed to keep him for four years and then get a proposal, please--" She stopped for a moment, her eyes squeezed shut to try to think around her whopping headache. "I am in love with him. I have been for years. If he was poor and injured and homely and living on the streets I would still want to be his wife, it has nothing to do with the money. I could be a good wife for him; my mother made my father a very happy man and she has taught us well. Heaven knows he does not need a thicker purse."


-


Diana's eyes began to shift around the room as she was left alone with the strange man. She was desperate to know more information about the poor little dear he had brought, but could not bring herself to be that forward. Unlike Margaret, she guarded her tongue carefully. "I thank you for taking the time to finally meet me, Mr. Edwards."

 

[Syrrus]

The older woman seemed unmoved by Margaret's little speech. In fact, she seemed rather bored by it. Yet Lucille gave the young woman a more somber look, as she stroke a finger ovee the corner of hee painted lips.


"This marriage has little to do with money, dear. It is more about title and social status. He us a son of royalty and can hardly marry a barkeep. What you will end up doing is of little concern to us, and your pleading will not change the situation. You might as well return home, we will call you a cab."


---------


Victor smiled weakly as he sat down upon a chair, stroking black hair our of his face. "I would have been here sooner, would I have known." He lied, with a sugary smile. If he indeed had known he would have been running the other way, which was probably why his sister had remained silent.

 

[GreyZone]

"Mr. Edwards is not going to magically become king one day," she told them quietly, then repeating knowledge that he had taught her. "And King Henry VIII had six wives, though only one came from noble blood. If the most notorious monarch in all of English history can wed five normal women I do not see the need for the Madame speaking to a man who proposed to me right now."


-


The corners of Diana's lips twinged up ever so slightly. She did not believe him in the least, but was too well-raised to state otherwise. "I am sure your travels were beneficial." She ached a little to ask about the redhead, but bit her tongue.

 

[Syrrus]

"I see that he has waisted his time educating a bar wench." Said the horried old lady. Lucille said nothing and simply placed her hands upon her knees. There was indeed no point in arguing, for their mind had been made up.


------


"Ah, my travels to the new world or the trip to the mansion? Either one was quite fine." Victor said, calmly, while stroking a finger over his chin. "So, ma'am, do tell me about yourself."

 

[GreyZone]

"Do not worry, if I wasted his time, he most certainly wasted mine as well," she murmured back before stepping into the other room unannounced. "I truly regret breaking up this meeting, but I do believe that I deserve a proper farewell before I depart."


She shot Victor a cold look at first, undoubtfully angry at him for going along with this, but she stepped forward and pressed her lips to his one last time. "Forgive me but I must while I am aware that it won't happen again," she told him quietly before kissing him a second time.


Diana's eyebrows raised in thinly veiled shock at the behavior, but she said nothing.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor surprise was rather great. He blinked and placed a hand on Margaret's shoulder. "I bid you farewell, my dear." He did not smile nor did he look sorrowful, in fact, he looked almost blank. "I am certain the servants will see you out."


Mister Edwards rose and bowed, but he said nothing.

 

[GreyZone]

She noticed his rather obvious lack of emotions, and if it did anything it only embarrassed her. She looked like a silly, love-sick wench who didn't have her feelings returned by a great lord.


"Goodbye, Mr. Edwards." Margaret's face turned as cold as his and she nodded toward his new bride. "I wish you the best of luck."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret had only lasted one month. One solitary month after being gone in the Americas. Her brothers had poor little wives, most of them cloistered away with stomachs expanding under their skirts. She knew it could not be from food since there was none to be had upstairs, and the horrifying animistic noises left nothing to imagine from the other rooms. As she knew, the own good queen's wedding night advice to her daughter was, "Close your eyes and think of England." It made her head whirl to think she could be in the same predicament as those horrid women who let her do the work and yet mooched off the bar's meager provisions. Her hand constantly pressed against her stomach, the state of her tell-tale undergarments checked each time she had a free moment as the night of loosing her innocence grew further away.


The baby she had so hated when she was living with her family was a damned awful toddler; however, his round little face looked so much as her mother's did that she found her heart softening toward the lad. He waddled around on fat legs, squawking at anyone who could listen and grabbing anything in sight to stuff in his mouth. He was a handsome boy, but not the only one who had aged in her absence. Jane had blossomed into a lovely young lady, much more of one than Margaret had ever been. With her soft curls that were more of a strawberry blonde than a fiery red, she was the belle of the bar and captured everyone's hearts with her blushes and smiles. Margaret was just thankful that she had a better bosom than the younger woman and could use hints of that to her advantage. Or heaven forbid, an ankle.


It all felt so silly. In the Americas she had been allowed to wear her hair flying behind her, her dresses did not cover her throat nor her petticoats keep her from walking at a pace that got anything done. She had resented the dirt and the bugs and the utter lack of true civilization, but she now missed the freedom of it.


More than anything, she missed Mister Edwards. Margaret had hoped that the feelings would flee her as soon as he was not the only man she saw each day. And yet, her eyes darted up each time the door opened in hopes that a tall and pale man would come in, glance at her reddened knuckles, set his pocket watch up on the counter, perhaps pull a scrap of paper out of his pocket to read for her. They had developed such a lovely system of conversation while she unapologetically refilled his drinks without request.


There had been too many nights that she would find herself crying, cursing the wretched tears that reminded her she was more of a girl than a woman. The three sisters beneath her had each gotten engaged while she was gone, and she was the lone deflowered old maid of the family without a ring on her finger to show for her absence. Nineteen. The age haunted her, for twenty was next and that was when her life would officially be over. She was tempted to find Jack. If he hadn't already married a tiny little dame he would take her. But how would she fair, being married to the friend of the only man she truly enjoyed in life? Mister Edwards would never give her another glance if she was Jack's and she knew it. He was not too honorable to take her on a bed of pine needles but he was too honorable to pursue her if she was Jack's girl.


When her forbidden courses finally came that was the final act to sever the chord. She could no longer claim to have a piece of him, any reason that he should not marry whoever that wretched woman was or she should remain in her current unwed and dishonorable state. At first it made her panic because her mother told her that she always became expecting whenever she did the "dreaded chore" of laying with her husband. Was that true? Was she not a good woman because she had nothing to show for it?


It was that night that she had donned the expensive outfit she had splurged for, pinning a hat to her head for the first time since leaving his grandmother's house to ask a blessing on her marriage that never happened. She did not know where she was going, only that she wanted to marry a man that was nothing like Edwards and nothing like Jack. She needed security, not poetry and syringes and sullen moods, nor one who was content to be poor. She could find an old fat widower charmed by her youth, perhaps attracted to the idea of saving a poor young exotic girl. At least she had good hips. Yes, some man who had never managed to get children off his first ugly fat woman and would look at her as a messiah.


The stench of the hospital was overpowering, causing her to press a gloved hand against her nose to regain her bearings. Whatever gets you away from that bar and toward a husband. In no time she was a registered nurse with a starchy hat and a cot next to a nun. He would find her a silly wench if he saw her. But she simply squared her shoulders and prepared to be a delicate and innocent girl, the type who got husbands. She could make herself scream as if it was her first time and she could silence her tears any other night to hide the fact that she had left herself in the Americas months before.

 

[Syrrus]

The head Doctor educated students in the local university. He saved lives and studied medical science during his free time. He lived inside the large hospital, behind heavy doors and weak windows. 


Doctor Martin W Charles was a lonely middle aged man. He had no children and only a empty frame upon his desk. This frame used to contain one lonely photograph of one pale looking woman, but no more. 


Lady Marian W Charles had died giving birth to a still born, a demon and a corpse. The nurses had tried to save her but the pain was to great. The good Doctor had sat upon her bedside and held her hand til no life shimmered behind the sick skin.


He had burned the book of poems, the romantic novels and the sheets of music that she had taken into his home. He had thrown it into the flames and watched what he once had loved a woman for burn into a beautiful black ash. 


This had been ten years ago. Martin was now a professor, scientists and Doctor. He had a fortune, a big house and no wife or children to share it with. Something he didn'the wish to change, until he saw her.


Martin walked through the corridor; muttering to himself. It was not the first time he would bump into Margaret nor would it be his last. Her beautiful sad features, who suited no one but a woman who'seek dreams and faith taken from her, surprised him every time.


"I apologize, Lady Margaret. My head was in the clouds." Martin was a tall, strong framed but skinny man, pale from spending far to many hours indoors. His blond hair was neatly brushed to one side and his face completely clean-shaven.  He had slight freckles upon his forehead, one mole on the side of his temple and a refined hairline. He wasn't an ugly man, but not a English man either. No sharp features, no piercing eyes. He was a man born and raised in Texas.

 

[GreyZone]

When Margaret laid eyes on him she knew immediately that he was American-born and it sent her heart soaring. He couldn't be farther from her dear Mister Edwards - she quickly corrected herself in her head, for he was no longer her anything, let alone her dear - and it was perfect.  Not to mention that he could remind her of the brief years she had there.  They seemed like corrupted hell, but each night when she was blocking out Sister Mary's snoring she found herself longing for Jack's harmonica, the sound of Victor scraping the straight blade against his chiseled jaw.  What she wouldn't give to try to make good cornbread over a fire again.


She offered him a small smile when he apologized.  "Oh, no, Sir, the fault rests upon me," she replied, keeping her voice light despite the pain in her eyes that was screaming to anyone with a human heart.  Now if only she had paid more attention to what her mother had told her to catch a man.  Easy for her to say, she had secured their father and a baby in her belly before her sixteenth birthday.  


Margaret started to step away from him and return to her duties, making sure to swing her hips in a way that appeared entirely innocent, but would hopefully give him thoughts that were anything but.   She then stopped and turned over her shoulder to look at him again.  "Have you been tending properly to yourself, Dr. Charles?" She asked in a gentle voice, one slender eyebrow arched.  "Is there anyone making sure that you eat well, that you don't work so hard?"
 


Of course she knew everything about his romantic position.  She had made sure of it before putting so much effort into her new job. She absolutely despised it, the men with rotting limbs and rotten breath reaching for her and moaning at all hours of the night; however, she thrusted herself wholly into it.  She wanted there to be no doubt in his mind that she would do the same as his wife. That would show Mr. Edwards, when she was rich and happy, surrounded by fat babies that were cared for by another woman, no dirty work for her. That would show him.

 

[Syrrus]

Martin placed his hands behind his back, pondering in silence while chewingiving, only lightly, on his lip. The rumours between the other nurses were that Margaret was looking for a husband, someone who could spoil her and take work off her hands. It was also rumoured that she have had a thing for a chimney sweep, which completely contradicted the first. The good Doctor had never thought much about it, a woman's gossip.


"You aouth to know that I am unmarried, I tend for myself in the most vague fashion." The man chuckled and scratched the tip of his nose. "Ma'am, would you wish to join me on my travel to Cambridge? I'm to be there by the start of next week speaking on behalf of the new world's science. I would need some assistance. I'm a simple man, I'm afraid the scholars of London will take my Texan ways... well... I have been called a Redneck, even a 'damned jankie' and perhaps if I had a beautiful and gentle lady by my side to assist me... well, it is just an idea." 


When Doctor Charles spoke about business he sounded completely mechanic, his southern accent turning to little but a whisper. He was weighing back and forth on the tip of his shoes while awaiting an answer, pulling his hands down the white coat pockets.


"And please, while we are alone call me Martin."

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret knew the ladies would be suspicious if she had no romantic history to speak of and there was no possibility on earth she would share with them about Mr. Edwards.  So Jack has been the man she was in love with to the nurses, but her father had wrenched them horribly away from each other because poor Jack was not rich enough.  The story was completely false, but it was entertaining to tell and all of the girls believed it.  


Had her hip swinging truly worked that well?!  My mother would be proud of me.  Margaret couldn't think of any other time or reason she would have been, but when the doctor asked for her assistance, her heart soared. At least she was not pretending to be his lady for a crotchety old woman, or even worse, asking to actually be his lady from a crotchety old woman.  


"I would be honored to accompany you, Sir," she replied, touching his arm lightly.  Over the years, she had gotten better and better at subduing her Irish accent, and developing a perfect English.  No one questioned her anymore, if it were not for the fiery hair.  


"Martin," she quickly corrected herself when he offered, a small smile playing on her lips. "I will assist you in any way that I can, I promise you that."

 

[Syrrus]

"Great! Great. I'm very glad you agree. Have you ever been to Cambridge? Strange place, a lot of British snobs, if you excuse me saying. Come, let's discuss it further in my office?" 


Martin was quick to realize that the other nurses and doctors had decided to eavesdrop. He didn'the much care for it, but was far too kind to say anything. He walked with long legs through the corridors, still with his hands in his pockets.


"Ma'am, may I ask about your experiences? When it comes to nursing and other possible skills? I am merely curious." 


Martin was strictly professional and work orientated. He cared little for light conversation, but this time he had a reason. He was getting on in life, children was perhaps not something he would consider, but a good wife.


"I am very glad to see women like yourself putting work first. It is a sad, and old fashion view to merely thing a ladyear belongs in the house. Did you know that many Indiens believed women to be above men?"

 

[GreyZone]

"I have not been to Cambridge; however, I have experience with people in many walks of life and I do not fear it," she told him with a small smile, following him to the office.  Maybe it would not be so dreadful to seduce him after all.  


Margaret nodded at his questions, and smiled softly at his statements about the Indians.  "I will not lie and pretend I am the most knowledgable when it comes to medicine," she began, "But I have many small siblings and have been aiding what ails them since they were wee babes.  I wanted to do something with myself, help those poor dears in any way that I could.  It has been a good experience for me."


She paused and looked around his office, hoping to see if he was still clinging to memories of his previous wife. It looked like he was not, that was good.  "When I was traveling in the Americas, I always loved when we had the privilege of being with the Indians.  I had a good time with the women, even if there was a bit of a language barrier.  I found them quite resourceful, resilient creatures.  Most Englishmen could not survive as they do and I applaud them."

 

[Syrrus]

"Agreed, sadly it seems as most don't agree with us." Martin sat down and gestured towards another empty seat. He sat by his large desk, it was neatly stacked with papers, files, books and writing material. A pair of reading glasses sat neatly by the sign that stated his name. "I was never much for children. I don't dislike them! Heavens no, I adore 'em, but they don't much care for me. Doctor's fright I believe, heh."


The room itself was warmly lit, with white curtains over the closed windows. Books decorated the back wall and a picture of the hospital's founder was hanging behind him. It was a stern, balding looking man, painted with oil which made him look almost as if he was constantly sweating, even if he was only a portrait of theach now dead man.


"I merely wished to discuss ou' travelin' times. It's not a bad trip to Cambridge but we still have to stay at the local hotel. Between you and me; I refuse to stay at campus. The students are far from a good time. The hotel is high quality, five star and will serve breakfast and late dinners. I will book an additional room for ya'. How long can ya' be absent from your family?"


Even if Martin spoke slowly he still managed to say a lot, while he rolled his favourite black ink pen between thumb and pointer of his right hand.


"How much preparation would ya' need before the trip? I can have a carriage pick ya' up at your home and we can meet at the trainstation, this Sunday a'noon."