What was he playing at? Just earlier he said…
“A bit possessive aren’t you, for a cousin?” Dekker said evenly. Etrigan knitted his eyebrows at Horace’s statement. Horace once again studied Etrigan’s reaction intently.
“Cousin?” Etrigan said not understanding.
“Well gentlemen, thank you for coming but I am afraid I need to go in.” I said as I took Etrigan’s hand and pulled him towards the house leaving our companions bewildered.
As we entered the house Etrigan turned towards me and hugged me quickly.
“Thank you Claren, this is the first time I have ever felt as though I have friends. You, Horace and Dekker, I feel as though things might be changing for me now.” He smiled shyly and dashed up the stairs. I went in to the kitchen to make a pot of tea since the servants were given the day off today. Mr. Lowood did not want anyone seeing his son being out of doors. Mr. Lowood entered the kitchen after Etrigan had gone.
“I want to apologize to you Claren.” I turned towards the elder Lowood not really knowing what to expect.
“I was upset and regretted bringing you here when I found out my son had been out in public. But as I watched you with my son and your friends, I saw how they became his friends too. I have never seen my son smile so much or laugh as he had today. I heard what he said just now to you, and that brought me much happiness, thank you.”
“It was my pleasure Mr. Lowood, I am growing very fond of your son.” I said quietly.
“Are you Claren? Are you really, you’re not just saying that to please me?” he asked desperately. Gone was the angry, cold man from this morning. I could see only quiet desperation in his eyes, a yearning for something lost.
“Yes, I admire him very much.” He quickly clasped my hand to his chest.
“Then it is decided. I have to go away for awhile Claren and when I come back I think we all will be a lot happier. You tell Etrigan for me but I haven’t a moment to waste, I’ve already wasted so much.” He let go of my hand and walked out of the kitchen quickly.
“But where are you going?” I called out to him but received no response.
****
Horace Bitwater loved research and took great pleasure in finding out things from the past. To him each tidbit of new knowledge was like discovering a hidden treasure. So the first night he had seen Etrigan stride through the crowd of people with his majestic black wings, something bothered him. The second time he met Etrigan and spoke with him, finding out the wings were real, he could not wait to race back to his beloved research center.
There, his family, because of wealth and influence, had access to old archives dating back to before the Great War. In these archives there were things so vile, so nasty, that even the Grand Council did not know that records of them still existed. If they knew, they most assuredly would destroy any and all records and anyone who knew about it. Horace remembered reading something, years ago about a company that helped finance the modern era after the Great War. Hand in hand with the Grand Council, they helped bring the world out of the unenlightened and depressed state it was in. Horace recalled something of winged beings being used to help usher in this new dawn. It poked at his thoughts in an annoying fashion until he had to get back to those records to read the full account.
“Are you even listening to me man?” Dekker said irate, he hated to be ignored.
“What was that?” Horace said absent mindedly.
“Don’t you think that fellow is alright?”
“Oh yes, he seems very pleasant, if not for his wings that is.”
“I think they are rather interesting. Imagine if you had wings like that, where you could go and what you could see. I wouldn’t have to commandeer a ship anymore that’s for sure.”
Horace snorted.
“Still playing pirate Dekker? Stealing your fathers textile ships, then bringing them back when you are done?”
“Well at least I manage to get away from my father once in awhile. More than what could be said for you.” Horace shrugged. He well knew that his friend disapproved of his loyalty to his aging mother.
“I do think though, that he is entirely a bit too possessive of our Claren.” Dekker said peeking into the hamper for leftovers.
“Yes, I agree.”
“Well for a cousin that is.” Dekker added.
“Maybe he is not her cousin.” Horace stated as the carriage stopped to let him off.
“What do you mean?” Dekker called out to his friend.
“I am not so sure about our Miss Claren. She may not be who she says she is.”
“What?” Dekker asked licking his finger that had touched a turkey leg in the hamper.
“I’m going to find out more, then I promise I will tell you Dekker.” Horace waved as he walked away to the research center leaving his friend perplexed.
Kurten
Sometimes people become mean because of horrible experiences. It’s a gradual process that hardens their hearts and minds and forces them to develop a thick skin. In order to survive they must adapt to their harsh surroundings. They in turn become mean.
This was not the case with Kurten. Kurten Wandsworth as the favorite and only child in the household was, from the beginning a spoiled, headstrong, bully. As a young boy he tormented others that were weaker than he. He had no natural sympathies for anyone except himself. His mother, being weak willed and spoiled herself, did nothing to discourage this sort of selfish behavior in her only son. Constantly giving in to his every whim and making feeble lipped excuses to the other parents at the boy’s academy, where he had beaten someone up.
As a teenager Kurten learned from his father that people did not have to love, like or respect you. But they did have to fear you. If anything else followed, then that was just pudding after the meal. “A quick wrap on the beak will show them” was his father’s favorite expression and action. Kurten grew up with many “wraps on his beak” until he himself was a master at delivering them to an unaware offender. He was taught that if something could not be gotten by smooth talking or treachery, then brute force was in order.
When he was still in his boy’s academy he had set his sights on Claren. He had been home for the holidays when he first saw her, dressed in a winter white coat trimmed with white fur, her hands kept snug and warm in a muff. She was a vision of purity to him and her whole person shook him to the core of his slimy soul. He asked his parents to inquire about her, which they promptly did. She came from the Maidstone family, a family that had a prestigious reputation and a handsome fortune. Kurten’s own gambling debts had grown considerable while in school. He made his own inquiries about her reputation among men. It wouldn’t suit him to be married to a tart. The report was too good to be true. Claren had not courted any man in St. Marhen. It would seem as though she was somewhat of a late bloomer. Kurten himself had had many young women while at the boy’s academy and then later when he entered the gentlemen’s academy. The women that became involved with Kurten fell in to two categories. The first were young and foolish types that thought it would do them well in society to become involved with the Mayor’s son. After Kurten had his way with them, he would unceremoniously leave them. If they attempted to cause a scene, he would in turn tell them that he would take out an ad in every paper known to man, letting everyone know she had lost her virtue.
The second type of woman that would get involved with Kurten were women who took money for their favors. They did not expect any long lasting commitment from the youth, but instead, encouraged him to gamble and drink and drive up his debts. They, in turn got a modest percentage from the owners of the gambling houses.
Other than Kurten’s initial inquiries, he had ceased to even breathe Claren’s name to anyone. Her very existence was a secret he guarded jealously. If no other young men knew about her, they would not want her and they would be no threat to him in winning her. In the gentlemen’s academy an acquaintance of Kurten’s (for he had no real friends) had once remarked at a chance meeting with Claren and how h
e thought he might like to begin calling on her. Kurten without a word threw down his playing cards, marched up to the unsuspecting youth and knocked him out cold. He turned to face the shocked bystanders and commanded them.
“When this sorry chap wakes, tell him Kurten Wandsworth said if he even thinks about looking at Claren Maidstone, that will be the last thing he ever does.” That story circulated quickly throughout the halls of the gentlemen’s academy. Most young men decided it would be in their best interest to find another suitable girlfriend, one that the mayor’s son was not interested in. They all secretly thought it a shame and a waste that such a lovely young woman would be sought after by Kurten. Kurten himself was such a sordid wretch that they did not like, but feared. As Kurten walked down the halls and saw the fear he caused reflected in the eyes of his classmates, he smiled. He was determined to have it all after he graduated, and it suited him that men should fear him now. It would also suit him well to have a beautiful, virtuous wife with a good reputation and wealth by his side.
After he graduated from the Gentlemen’s academy he put his plan into action. Formal introductions were made from his parents to Claren’s. The Wandsworths were invited over to dine with the Maidstones. Later, Kurten came over on his own, unannounced, every Sunday afternoon. Claren’s parents were too well bred and polite to turn him away, so he made himself a regular sight at their dinner table on Sundays.
As for Claren herself, she did not seem interested in him at all. She was polite to him, but cool and guarded. He would watch her carefully during these Sunday dinners and was always left perplexed by her behavior. While he knew she did not have any other gentlemen callers (he made sure of that), she herself did not act like a timid young girl around him. She did not speak much at the table unless her parents or himself asked her a direct question. There were times when he was sure that he caught her with a distinct look of disgust upon her face when looking at him. She never allowed him to be alone with her, not even to sit in the parlor, which made it hard for him to maneuver some physical contact. He turned up each Sunday with a plan to get closer to Claren, to make her love him. It became his obsession. Though he continued to spend himself with women of lower standards, he found his own growing passion for Claren becoming unbearable. The more he wanted her and had to restrain himself, the more nights he spent at the gambling houses until he was gambling and drinking with women every night.
He justified his behavior to his father who spoke to him with concern.
“Do what you will Kurten, but make some sort of practice of discretion. I know you have already visited the doctor several times in this last year with maladies of the unmentionable type.”
“It’s this girl’s fault Father! She gives me no quarter! I wish to marry her but I have not even kissed her or held her hand. I feel as though I shall burst if I do not have her.” His father had frowned and looked upon the papers at his desk.
“You have been going there every Sunday for the past year but still no agreement or understanding has been made? Does this girl not love you Kurten?” Kurten hung his head down.
“No, she does not love me and I think she may not even like me, but I must have her Father!”
“Then why bother with her? There are plenty of other women in St. Marhen that I know would consider your attentions an honor.”
“Because I want no one else! She has gotten under my skin, I wake up and see her face before me, I go to sleep and she is the last thing I think about. No one else in this city can compare to her.”
“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about this young woman. I have always taught you that if you want something, you take it. If you cannot take it outright, then you must use other means to obtain your prize. We do not know if it’s the parents or the girl herself who bars your progress. In order to find out we must remove some players from this game. For that is all it is my son, a game.”
“What do you mean remove some players?” Kurten inherited his father’s dead small eyes and now his own eyes looked back at him. The mayor knew Claren’s reputation and her family well enough to know that they would not push their daughter into marriage. They might tolerate his son’s regular visits while looking for someone they thought more suitable. Then his son would be left out in the cold and made to look like a fool. He could not have that. Claren herself seemed to have no desire to marry Kurten or else she would have seized upon the chance a year ago, Mayor’s son or not. He also knew that when chinks of a chain were removed one by one, it made the chain weaker. He was going to help his son get what he wanted by removing all the chinks until only one remained by herself.
“I mean in everything, life, business and love you have to be ruthless and willing to do anything to get what you want. Are you willing Kurten to do anything to have this young woman?”
Kurten nodded slowly in response, a feeling of satisfaction growing inside of him. Kurten never spoke to his father regarding Claren again. When the news came out that both her parents were killed in a boating accident, he silently thanked his father. He knew that Claren was his for the taking.
Of course he never expected what occured after the funeral to happen. He had not realized how much he had wanted to claim her for himself. That afternoon he felt that even though her parents were newly dead, she herself had moved farther out of his grasp. His anger and lust drove his actions, but he failed in even that. She had made short work of his knee and her beast had made short work of part of his face. Several surgeries later he still had a limp to his walk and a scar on his face. He buried his anger and nursed his hate towards Claren. He stopped going to the gambling houses and chose instead to devote himself entirely to the destruction of the only girl he had ever loved.
Hiring a team of private investigators he quickly found the boarding houses in which she had stayed at following her flight from St. Marhen. From there he was able to find the driver in North Alcott that worked for one Mr. Brighton.
When he first found out who it was Claren had been taken in by, he blanched. What was Brighton playing at?
He had first met Mr. Brighton a few months before the deaths of Claren’s parents. On a night with three bottles of liquor under his belt and in the negative in cards at the local gambling house, a stranger approached him. Through alcohol flavored belches he could see that this stranger
Did not belong there.
Was rich.
The stranger required a private room in which to discuss his business with Kurten. As it turned out, all he wanted was information, information about Claren.
“I know you are frequently a guest at this girl’s house.”
Mr. Brighton had said while sliding a photo of Claren towards Kurten. When Kurten saw the photo he immediately thought to himself,
“This old coot better not want my Claren or I’ll give him a rap on the beak.”
“What I want is information about her and her family. Anything, no matter how inconsequential you may think it is, I want to hear it. I am prepared to pay you handsomely for your services.”
“Of course you will, but what do you want it for?” Kurten asked, never one to let love get in the way of money.
“What I want it for is my business. Will you or will you not do as I ask?” It took a split second for Kurten to make up his mind. He wanted to make sure he kept this old mark around so that he could squeeze as much money as he could out of him.
“You have yourself a deal as long as the payment is adequate.”
“It will be more than adequate for you.” The older man had said.
Kurten had not been able to deliver much information to Mr. Brighton, yet the older man still continued to pay him for weekly reports. That is, until Claren’s parents died.
When Kurten was well enough from his surgeries, he had gone back to the gambling house where he had first met the mysterious Mr. Brighton. He was sure that Mr. Brighton would have known what had happened to him. All of St. Marhen was in an uproar about it. His father, the mayor, had made a good s
how of it all, painting Claren out to be a seductress that wanted Kurten, but when he refused her, she attacked him and fled. Of course, anyone who knew the Mayors son knew these were all lies to save face. Everyone knew that Kurten had been faithfully going to visit Claren for a year, yet there were still no talk of marriage from the girl’s side. Apparently now that Claren had fled, Mr. Brighton had no need for his services and they would not be meeting again.
It was blind chance that made him stumble across Claren coming out of the shop. He had been on his way to the bank to make a withdrawal when she had bumped in to him. Like a dog who is given a bone for the first time, Kurten was not exactly sure what he was going to do with her. He could tell by her eyes she was frightened by him and that excited him as he drug her in to the alley. Of course he himself never expected to be attacked while he attempted to assault Claren for the second time. Before Kurten was knocked unconscious, he recognized the gray, pristine glove of one Mr. Brighton, balled into a fist as it connected to his nose.
His Black Wings Page 20
