Dirty Villains

by Cheri Marie

  “Fine, then we plan for tomorrow night. Once your family has gone to bed, meet me in the last stable. I will be there with all that we need and we will disappear together. I have family throughout the countryside that will have us,” Claude said.

  I pondered this over. His eagerness and confidence struck a match of bravery in my heart. I knew the love we had for each other was true, and it was something I would never have another chance at.

  “Claude, I love you and will continue to love you. I will love only you, until I take my last breath. Tomorrow, we start the journey we deserve. A story written by us, rather than for us,” I said as I jumped into his arms. We embraced each other, and I gave him the best kiss yet. I could not wait to love this man for the rest of my days, and continue to best our kisses daily.

  Tonight is the night. Tonight I have made the decision to leave my life and planned schedules behind. I will never look back at this life I was given; to be bartered off like goods, used as a pawn for my parents’ own selfish needs.

  After I hear absolute silence in the house for over an hour, I begin to pack the bare necessities I will need for traveling. I decide against taking any silver from my family since my sudden absence will hurt enough. I do not want to add thievery to their heartache.

  I take out fresh paper and ink, and quickly pen a note to tell my parents that I mean well and not to look for me. As I write my last few dear words, I reflect that I did not see my mother after dinner. She must have felt unwell, and Father was quick to his study as usual. I feel emptiness as I seal the letter; I should feel remorse or sadness or something. I realize I have never had much of a bond with the people I have shared my life with thus far. Mulling this over, I feel much better about leaving with Claude. My heart is full when I think of him.

  I leave the note on my vanity and grab my small satchel with what little belongings I felt I needed for the journey. I gingerly walk downs the steps and steal out the side door in the kitchen. I see the stables off to the far left, with a faint light coming from it. He is waiting for me; I cannot help but smile the whole way. As I come around the corner to the last stable, it is as if the world has turned upside down and I drop to my knees.

  I see Claude, covered in welts, bruises, and blood; he is laying in the hay, breathing shallowly. I am not even sure if he is conscious at this point. I begin to hyperventilate and the cries come out of me like I am possessed. I see my father with the head constable, whip in his hand while my father holds the torch. My father assisting in Claude’s beating.

  I look to my right, back towards the house. Like a beacon of despair, I see my mother in the window with a smug look on her face. She knew all along about Claude and I! She knew my connection to him, she knew about us leaving tonight… she knew everything. She must have alerted my father and the constable. How could they do this to him?!

  I begin to scream and lunge at the men. “How could you do this, Father? Why would you hurt this amazing man? Is he alive?!” I turn my efforts away from the monster I once called my family, and try to get next to Claude. I get within a fingertip’s distance before I feel rough hands on my forearms. Manners and lessons have dissipated. I begin kicking, scratching, and screaming as I am pulled further away from the one man who loved me for me. He is suffering because of me. He never deserved this.

  “Lavinia, you will cease this behavior right now. If you do not, I promise you that boy will die tonight.” My father stares into my eyes with steel. I spit in his face. He drops me, and slaps me across the cheek. I stare back with defiance. He expected shock, but I refuse to give him that reaction. I am shattered inside; nothing can hurt me more than seeing Claude practically lifeless in front of me.

  I turn in the direction of the stable, realizing this is the closest I will ever be to Claude again. “Claude, if you can hear me, I am so sorry and I will always love you.”

  Before I can say anything more, I am being dragged towards the house by the man I once called Father. As I am being pulled away, I see the constable flash the most devious and hellish grin. He flicked the whip in the air, the snap cracking through the midnight silence. I began to scream out but before I could get a full sentence out, my world went dark.

  That was the last time I ever saw my beloved, my soulmate, my entire world. That last image of Claude will be forever seared into my mind.

  Today is the day. Today I bring justice to the one who murdered the love of my life. I will exact my revenge rightfully so, and no one will see it coming. Claude was blindsided with abuse for loving me, and today, I will fulfill the goal I have thought of since the moment I came to, after that murderous evening.

  It has been several months since I lost Claude. He never got up from the whipping in the stable. The constable called upon Claude's family to retrieve his body. I have never seen a more broken man than Claude's father. His only crime was loving me, and now his family must prepare a burial for the most innocent and magical soul I ever knew. The night the world lost Claude, is the night I lost myself from the world. I, too, died the night Claude took his last breath.

  Ever since that horrific night, I have become a shadow of my former self. I barely sleep without seeing his face. I cannot bring myself to eat more than a few bites per meal. Just seeing my mother across the table from me makes my blood boil. Neither of my parents have bothered to check on me since that night. My mother is even happy about the weight loss, praising my figure for future courtship. She no longer draws a reaction from me with her comments, which I am sure disappoints her greatly.

  After this loss, I found myself changing. I could never return to the girl I once was; she was forever gone. With this new version of myself, I discovered I am capable of many new skills. I find myself thinking more clearly as the days pass. I can move silently throughout the house now. I can be noticed only when I wish to be. A skill my mother has utilized my whole life... will now be her undoing.

  One particularly stormy night, we sit down for dinner - the normal routine. Per usual, I asked to be excused early as my appetite is absent. My parents hardly blink at my request, so I silently leave the table. I know my father will slip away to his nightly addictions. Luckily for me, they will one day be his ruin; no need to mess with fate.

  I wait for some time until the night settles in. The storm is glorious outside with the shrieking wind and booming thunder. I can faintly hear my father snoring in his study when the storm has a break. It appears to be another lonely night for my mother – perfect.

  I grab an old trinket my father collected on a trip from the hallway as I pass close to the stairs. At the top of the stairs, off to the right is my parent’s room where I know my mother lies awake, waiting to hear my father’s footsteps. Ever so gently, I toss the souvenir down the steps, hearing the clunks as they go in between the storm breaks. Quickly, I dart to the shadows of the hallway so as not to be seen. A few moments pass, and I hear my mother at the stairs. I knew she would seek out the sound, concerned it was my father stumbling. She can barely make out the surroundings below towards the sound's direction, and takes a few steps down for a better look. I seize my opportunity.

  I soundlessly come forth as a crack of lightening passes, and push her body down the flight of stairs. I do not even bother to watch my plan unfold. I seek no happiness from my actions; I seek redemption, and that is exactly what I got. I know my father will not wake from the noise either. I go to my room, climb into bed and sleep the best that I have in what feels like ages.

  Today is the day. Today, I am to be married in order to fulfill my duties for my father. I am to be married against my will. He is a much older man, Mr. Tremaine. He pressed throughout the courtship that I call him Francis since we were betrothed. I could never bring myself to do so.

  Ever since my mother was tragically found dead at the slight of her own feet, the house was much quieter. This drove my father mad. In his current state, usually drunk or high at the hand of himself and his hobbies, he finally found a well off man to peg me to. I
believe they met through mutual contacts, but that hardly mattered. He sealed the business deal and was happy to be rid of me.

  Mr. Tremaine is a dull man, although he tries to be charming for my sake. He is not a tall man but is not short by any means. He has a bit of girth to his waist; a very average looking man with an average outlook on life. I know my life with this man will be boring but secure. The only glimmer of hope in this situation but I will survive like I always do. I will rise up and become the socialite my mother only wished she was. I will use this new position in the world to bring power and influence to my good name.

  The ceremony was small and private on our land. The business merger now complete, my bags were packed, and the carriage loaded. I did not bother with pleasantries and false goodbyes. I know this is the last time I will see this house or that man I once considered my father, as he will be gone soon. One can only throw away so many blood soaked handkerchiefs before the servants begin to talk. “Loose lips sink ships, Father,” I thought to myself. I know my father believes he has won this battle, tossing me off to the highest bidder. However, I have won the war. I am far from a dimwitted woman that will follow the path created for her.

  I climb aboard the carriage, refusing to meet the eyes of my “husband.” If I have learned anything living among these monsters in this dungeon of a home, it is how to blend and survive. I will make what I can of my new living situation until a better one approaches. I will always adapt and put myself first. I know that if I do not, no one else will.

  Today is the day. Today, I end the mourning period of my first husband. Do not fret; Mr. Francis Tremaine died of natural causes. He was actually not a terrible man and I hope he finds his peace on the other side. Our marriage lasted almost six years, and we bore two daughters from it. My oldest is Drizella and my youngest is Anastasia.

  With the help of my previous marriage, I climbed social ranks. We held beautiful galas, helped shape society as it is today. I smiled when needed, I laughed as required, and I made the connections necessary for growth in the public’s eye.

  Raising the girls was not a difficult task. Luckily, the help around the house picked up the slack in the absence of their father. I did not mind that he was not active in their upbringing. I wanted to mold the girls in my image rather than what the world expects of them. They will be calculating, cunning, subtle, and always two steps before their opponents in life. I will do whatever it takes to see them succeed.

  I mourned for Francis for the appropriate two year period. I am happy to don clothes other than black, as are my daughters. Regardless of this, I have been out socially the past year. It is exhausting to accept company, entertain them, share the loss and mourn together, and so much. Rules of society drag this out much further than my liking. He is gone and life moves on.

  I must continue to put my daughters and myself first, so on to the next adventure. Over the past couple of weeks, I have had one steady visitor. His name is Charles and he is pleasant enough. He is roughly my age and comes from a good standing background. He, too, is a recent widower coming out of the mourning period. Unfortunately he also has a daughter that he raves about. I could care less, as I have no interest in acquiring another daughter to raise.

  He has hinted a few times already about securing our place together in society. I have entertained the idea and find more positives than negatives. After a few more weeks of courtship, I agree to take his offer.

  Not one for attention unless absolutely necessary or straying from what I now consider normal, I requested we keep the nuptials private. He agreed, as he normally did to my requests. He was anxious to marry as he felt there was extreme importance in providing his daughter with a “mother figure.” In order to continue my success in this situation, I rose to the occasion.

  His daughter, Ella, was a beautiful girl. Her hair was a light brown, almost blonde. She must have got that from her departed mother as Charles has darker brown hair. Her eyes were dazzling blue. I cannot help but feel something like nostalgia looking at her. I swallow this awkward feeling in my chest when I look at her, as I cannot place where it is coming from.

  It is clear when Ella enters a room that she outshines my daughters. She is balanced, poised, beautiful, and well-mannered. Unfortunately, Francis’ ordinary looks passed to both of my girls. I allow Ella to continue her life as is under our care, and continue rearing the girls in their lessons. I care not about what Ella’s future holds as her father can see to that. Drizella and Anastasia resume their studies they had prior to their father passing, under my careful watch. They attempt to master song and music, play various instruments and learn to dance. In a few short years, men will be calling to see my bright and ambitious protégés.

  Tonight is the night. Tonight is the night that I mourn for the last time at the passing of a man. It is actually most unfortunate to report another loss in my life. My second husband Charles has tragically died. It appears he was not in the best health prior to our wedding and considered our marital bond as his backup plan to life. I vow this to be my last marriage as Charles left his estate and daughter in my care. I and my daughters are well provided for, and nothing will ever get in the way of that again.

  For a few weeks, I allow Ella her time to mourn and give her plenty of space. I have the help check on her from time to time and maintain her health. As time passes, I slowly begin to relieve the help from their positions. One cannot spend money without a source from which to earn again. Slowly, Ella comes out of her room and joins us. I let her know about the lack of help around the house. I explain that we will all need to do our share in order to keep this house functional. She understood and complied, just as her father did.

  I believe in her emotional void and processing what was going on her life, that taking over the household duties brought her refuge. I know my daughters appreciated seeing her less as it helped for them to shine – although that was a constant battle in itself when they would fight among each other.

  I lay in bed and mull over the past weeks. I could not help but relate to Ella in this time. I recall slinking away into myself in order to cope with loss. All of a sudden, it hits me. I thank the heavens above that I was in bed or I would have hit the ground. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. The familiar pains when I look at Ella, the painful memories that I swallow back when I see her… she reminds me of Claude.

  I have not thought of Claude in years. He is too painful to remember; thinking of him exposes my weaknesses. I did not work this hard at life to be brought down so easily. I rip back the covers from my bed. I pace the floor, plotting out what must be done.

  Today is the day. Today is the day that Ella moves to her new quarters. My daughters have coined an appropriate name for her that goes hand in hand with her new role. We now refer to her as “Cinderella.” As she cleans, her clothes and boots become dirty as if she played in cinders.

  Putting this name to her face helps me to disassociate myself from her. I cannot help but feel disgusted whenever I see her now. Her gentle face that used to light up so easily, her memorable blue eyes, her smile in response to anything said to her. No, this cannot continue. This move will assist all of us as our new help Cinderella becomes accustomed to her role in this house.

  The girls continue with their lessons as Cinderella moves silently throughout the place. It is clear the house will fall into disrepair with only Cinderella seeing to it but I care less. My daughters will begin their seasons soon enough and I will be taken care of as their widowed mother. Naturally Drizella is my oldest, and will be wed first. I do not care which daughter I am to stay with; my faith in both is strong. I know both will secure a suitable partner and succeed in any situation thrown at them.

  We continue our lessons in song and instrument this afternoon. I begin to play the piano so we can harmonize together. I hear an interrupting knock at the door as Cinderella soundlessly comes in.

  “Cinderella, I have warned you never to interrupt our lessons!” I chast
ise her.

  “Stepmother, there is a royal envelope that came today that I think needs your attention,” Cinderella says as she looks downward.

  “You will not tell me what you think needs and does not need my attention. That will be all, Cinderella.” I dismissed her and she slowly walks to the door. I catch her hesitating, waiting to hear what the envelope entails. Before I can reprimand her for being disrespectful and not knowing her place, I am ambushed my Drizella and Anastasia.

  “Mother, open the envelope! Mother, do so NOW! Mother, what are you waiting for? It came from the palace!” Their shouts begin to blur and I raise my hand to quickly silence the noise.

  “Silence! How would ladies act in this situation?” I asked them sternly. They calm down, and straighten out their dresses, waiting to hear the news.

  “Well, there is to be a ball,” I say in shock. I can already hear the girls getting worked up again. “Tomorrow night! In honor of his highness, the Prince!” As soon as the words left my lips, they are shrieking again. “And by royal command, every eligible maiden is to attend!” At hearing this, I cannot help but meet the girls in my happiness. Imagine my daughters, having the chance to meet and win the love of the Prince! This would be the ultimate opportunity for our family.

  I hear shuffling by the door as Cinderella comes forward. “Oh, that means I can attend too!” Drizella and Anastasia begin to laugh and I catch myself laughing softly as well. “You?! Oh, but Cinderella, whatever would you wear? With that hair, and those shoes? You have a better chance with a stable boy!” the girls shout.

  At hearing this, I am flooded with emotion. I quickly stand up to end this nonsense at once. “Hmm yes, so it does say every eligible maiden. Well I see no reason why you cannot go - if you finish all your work here and find something suitable to wear, of course.”