by Amy Cross
"Women are emotionally unstable," Sir Addison suggests. "It's been proven in tests. They simply can't handle the emotional complexities of the modern world, and it's getting worse. As life becomes faster and more complicated, women can't handle the extra stresses and strains." He turns to me, as if he's expecting me to agree with him. "Sometimes I fear that we shall eventually have to confine women to the home more fully," he continues, "with chains if necessary, so that they are not exposed to all this difficulty. Let the men deal with important matters, because we're the ones who are more able to do so. It's simple science."
"Do you really believe that?" I ask, a little shocked to find myself face to face with such a neanderthal.
"I do!" he says proudly. "Are you one of those men, Edward, who likes to make himself feel better by pretending that women are our equals?"
"I believe women are our equals," I say calmly.
"Then explain this mess," Sir Henry replies, turning to watch as Mrs. Marchant is dragged away by the police officer. Sobbing hysterically, she struggles to break free from his grasp.
"I cannot," I say quietly. In truth, I am finding it hard to fathom how the woman managed to track me down. I am always very careful to ensure that the families of these girls do not know my name, so how did Sophia's mother find me? I can't help but wonder whether some other force is behind this development; another force that perhaps aims to destabilize my position within the game. Is it possible that Lady Red, having obtained the services of a new Mr. White, now seeks to bring about my downfall? It seems that perhaps the nature of the game is changing. I must not become paranoid, but I must ensure that I tread carefully.
Elly
Today
"People are complicated," Alice says as we sit in the restaurant. She's bought me a huge lunch, and we've been sharing a bottle of wine. I keep glancing at my watch, aware that I'm running way behind on my list of things to do, but Alice is a lot of fun and I kind of don't want to leave. Not yet, anyway. She's has this air of effortless sophistication, and I feel kind of energized just from being in her presence. "The thing with people," she continues, "is that they're not consistent. Trust me, I've been married and divorced five times. I know how things work. Don't waste time trying to understand another human being, because everyone has inconsistencies. The trick is to allow yourself wriggle-room, so that you don't get blindsided by someone changing their mind every ten seconds."
I take a sip from my glass of wine. "You make it sound as if life is a game," I tell her.
"Well, I -" She pauses, staring at me for a moment. I get the feeling that behind her effervescent personality, there's a brilliant mind churning. "That's a very perceptive comment," she continues, "and you're absolutely correct, life is a game. Some people recognize that fact and play, and others never cotton on and end up living their entire lives as pawns." She pauses again. "Tell me something. How did you come to this conclusion that life is a game? Did someone tell you?"
"Not really," I say with a shrug. "I've just noticed. There are rules, and you can win or lose. Stuff like that. It applies to everything, really. School's a game. Love's a game. Friendship's a game -"
"And sex?" she asks suddenly. "Is sex a game?"
"I guess," I reply, feeling as if the conversation is turning into more of an interview. "Like I said, everything's a game." I take another sip of wine. "Sorry," I say eventually, "I didn't mean to start getting into all this kind of stuff."
"It's fine," she says. "I'm just surprised. It's not often that I meet someone who shares my views on life. It's very promising. Very promising indeed."
"Promising?"
"For you, I mean. It makes me think you've got a handle on the way the world works. You won't go through life as everybody else's doormat." She smiles. "You're stronger than you look, aren't you?"
I pause, not sure how to respond.
Laughing, she reaches across and pats my shoulder. "It's always so hard to tell," she says, "but one has to ask these questions, doesn't one? As you so astutely put it, honey, life is a game. Or perhaps it's more like lots and lots of little games, all spinning around and butting into one another? It's no wonder the world is so chaotic."
We sit and talk some more, and time goes past so fast that suddenly I check my watch and realize it's almost 3pm. My mother's going to get home in a few hours, and she'll want to know what I've done all day. Although there's a part of me that would like to sit here and talk to Alice some more, I figure I need to get on with my errands. At the same time, I feel that Alice and I have really connected with each other, despite the twenty year age gap, so I figure we might be able to stay in touch. Explaining my need to get going to her, I'm relieved to find that she understands completely, and she quickly settles the bill before we head out into the cold mid-afternoon London street.
"I've really enjoyed talking to you today, Elly," Alice says, buttoning up her red coat. "Maybe I should bump into people and knock them over more often."
"I can give you my number," I say with a smile. "If you want to -"
"Oh, that's okay," she says dismissively. "I don't live around here anyway. But it's been very nice to meet you, Elly, and I wish you all the best in your future." She reaches over and gives me a hug, and then a kiss on the cheek. "Don't let your father's death get you down, honey. It's sad, but life has to move on. Try not to get too blue about the whole thing." With that, she turns and walks away.
I'm left standing and watching as she disappears around the corner. Something's nagging at the back of my mind, but it's not until Alice is out of sight that I realize what's wrong. I never told her about my father's death. In fact, I specifically avoided the subject, because I wanted to avoid taking about it. So how did she know?
Edward Lockhart
1895
"Her Ladyship will be in to see you shortly," the butler says as he withdraws from the room, pulling the door closed as he goes. I'm left standing alone in the conservatory of Lady Red's home, with nothing to do other than to admire her books. Exceedingly well-read and with exquisite taste, Lady Red prides herself on her ability to maintain an intellectual or academic conversation with anyone she meets, whether they're male or female. She reads voraciously and is a fellow of several cultural and scientific institutions across the city. Just the other day, she gave a speech on politics to one of the nearby Conservative clubs, and I hear she was received with such enthusiasm, she almost incited a revolution on the spot.
She's one of the most well-known society ladies in the whole of London. I wonder how her friends and aficionados would react if they knew about the game.
"My dear Mr. Blue," says a voice over on the other side of the room. "How charming to see you."
Turning, I see to my surprise that Lady Red has entered wearing nothing more than a silk robe. She has a knowing smile on her face, and I immediately realize that she intends to toy with me. Spending time in her presence can be rather tiring on those days when she is determined not to take anything seriously.
"Thank you for taking time to see me," I reply. "Your schedule must be extremely busy."
"Not at all! You must know that I always have time for you. I was merely entertaining myself in the conservatory. Alone." Smiling, she licks the middle finger of her right hand.
"I wonder," I say, "if perhaps you were expecting my visit today."
"Not particularly," she says, opening her drinks cabinet. "Can I offer you a glass of port?"
"No thank you," I reply.
She smiles. "I hope you don't mind if I partake. It has been such a long day." She starts pouring herself a drink. "I hope this little discussion will not last too long. I rather hope to get back to the conservatory and finish what I started before the mood has entirely left me."
"I was accosted by Sophia Marchant's mother today," I continue, determined to get straight to the point. "I was coming out of my club and suddenly the woman was right there, screaming hysterically about her daughter's disappearance."
"How fr
ightfully awful," Lady Red replies. "I do hope you are okay?"
"I'm fine," I say, "although it was a little embarrassing. Now, though, I find myself wondering how the situation came to pass. For one thing, there is no conceivable way that Sophia's parents could possibly know about me. For another, even if they did know my name, I am rather surprised that they would find it so easy to track me down." I pause, watching as Lady Red sips from her glass. "I can't help but wonder," I say eventually, "if perhaps some external force is dabbling, and maybe even moving the game pieces in order to cause trouble."
"And who would do that?" she asks, taking another sip.
"That's rather what I was hoping you might tell me," I say.
She smiles. "If you're suggesting that I would in any way seek to sabotage your adventures, Edward, I'm afraid you're quite wrong. Why would I do that? It's in my best interests that you should continue to play the game and that, perhaps, you might even find the right girl."
"That's not entirely true, is it?" I reply. "It's in your best interests that Mr. Blue should continue to play, and that Mr. Blue should find this elusive girl, but there's no reason that I have to be the one who fulfills that role. In fact, one might even suggest that you could perhaps be motivated to move me out of the game and bring in a new Mr. Blue."
"You seem a little paranoid," she says. "Do you really think that I would move against you?"
"I'm not entirely sure," I reply.
"Oh, Edward," she says, smiling at me. "Don't you realize that you're my favorite Mr. Blue of all time?"
"Then how does Sophia's mother know about me?" I ask. "I took the usual steps to ensure that I would not be implicated in her disappearance. If there's a leak in the organization -"
"If there's a leak, I'd know about it," she replies firmly. "Perhaps Sophia was more shrewd that you realize. I hope you didn't make the mistake of dismissing her intelligence just because she was a woman."
"Of course not," I reply. "You know full well that my views on women are extremely progressive."
"I see," she says. "Is that why you help us to kill so many?" She refills her glass. "I would think it's absolutely possible that Sophia, concerned about her safety, confided in someone about her activities."
"She assured me that she did not."
"Perhaps she lied," she says. "People do lie from time to time."
"I am quite sure she was telling the truth," I say.
"Then perhaps she was a very good liar," she replies. "Some people are good at it, Edward. Some people are good at show-jumping. Some people are good at acting. Some people are good at writing. And some people are good at lying. They can say the most hysterically untrue things and make it sound completely plausible. They can promise you one thing while doing the other, and they can do it with a straight face. It's a real skill."
"Perhaps," I reply, feeling more and more certain that she's lying to me.
"Are we done here?" she asks, sounding rather bored. "I'm very keen to get back to what I was doing."
"We're done for now," I tell her.
"Excellent," she says. "I shall not be able to show you out, but please feel free to come and see me at any time. My door is always open, Edward, and I feel certain that we can iron out any problems if only we discuss them properly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish to resume my earlier activity, and it would be rather awkward to do so while you're still here." With that, she walks over to a sofa in the corner, sits down and stares at me, clearly waiting for me to leave.
As I step out into the street a few moments later, I am filled with a feeling of foreboding. I have been playing the game for a number of years now, and I am certain that something has changed recently. It is as if my role in the game is being doubted, and I cannot help but wonder whether Lady Red is considering whether or not to move against my continued participation. There is, of course, only one way out of the game, and I am certainly not ready to set down my life just yet. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to focus on Elizabeth Cavendish and see if I can turn her into a success. If I can mold her and force her to change in certain ways, she might yet prove to be my salvation. Otherwise, my only option is to start working on an exit strategy that might allow me to slip away from the game without drawing undue attention to my departure.
Elly
Today
Why am I here? Why am I here? Why am I here?
Fuck!
Standing outside the King's Arms, I try to reconnect with the feelings I used to experience when I came here a few years ago. Back then, I was part of a group of friends who used to hang out in the bar and talk about whatever crap entered our minds. My best friends in those days were people like Mandy and Gemma, while Rob and his band were very much on the periphery of our social scene. It feels so weird being back here, especially since I know that Mandy is living in Edinburgh now and Gemma is down in the West Country. I feel like one of those people who desperately tries to recapture their youth by going back to their old haunts, and I'm quite certain I'm going to regret making the effort. Still, I'm here now and I figure I might as well try to make the best of it.
As soon as I walk through the door, I'm hit by that old familiar smell: a mixture of stale beer, body odor and tobacco. The place is packed, and I have to literally force my way through the crowd as I make my way slowly to the bar. Every so often, I hear the twang of a guitar chord over the chatter, as the band gets ready down at the back of the room, but I figure there's no point going to introduce myself to Rob and his friends right now; I'll just loiter in a free spot and wait for someone to find me. Eventually I manage to order a beer from the overrun, lone barman on duty, and I squeeze into the corner so I can at least lean against the wall. As the seconds tick by, I feel more and more out of place, and after half an hour of standing alone I start to feel as if maybe I should just get out of here. There's a cinema down the road, so I could go and see a film...
"Elly!" shouts a voice from the crowd. It takes me a moment to see who called me, but finally I spot Rob pushing his way in my direction. Finally he reaches me, and he immediately throws his arms around me in a big hug. "I thought maybe you'd stood me up!" he says, having to shout so that I can hear him above the noise of the room.
"I was a bit late," I shout back at him. "I didn't think I could make it up to the front."
"Come on," he says, taking my hand and starting to lead me away from the corner. Reluctantly, I follow him through the never-ending sea of people until, suddenly, we emerge right at the front, where the other members of Rob's band are getting ready. I recognize most of them instantly: a little older, a little fatter, and generally looking a little less healthy than I remember, they immediately remind me of the old days.
For the next few minutes, Rob introduces me to his friends, some of whom I knew in school. It's weird, but I feel like I'm being sucked back into a social scene that I left years ago, and at first I'm not sure how to react. I've been away in Bristol for three years, and I'm only now realizing how much I've changed in that time. To be honest, I feel as if I've grown up and matured while these people have stayed more or less the same: they've been doing the same things in the same places with the same people. I can't help feeling sad about the whole thing, as if Rob and his friends are wasting their lives. Then again, I guess I'm in no position to judge. It's not as if I'm doing anything particularly spectacular with my life.
As I'd expected, the band is pretty awful, and their set seems to last forever. They eventually stop just after 11pm, and I loiter with my empty glass, wondering whether I should just get out of here. As I turn to go, however, Rob runs over and taps my shoulder.
"What are you doing now?" he asks with an expectant smile. It's pretty clear that he thinks the night has only just begun, whereas I'm already starting to think about going home to bed.
"I don't know," I say, trying not to be too abrupt. "I figured the show's over, so..."
"The pub's open for a couple more hours," he says. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."
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Before I can tell him I'd rather not, he's over at the bar ordering me a beer. I want to walk out the door, but now I feel like I've been suckered into staying a little longer. I thank Rob for the beer as he passes it to me, and we stand in a kind of awkward silence for a while before he eventually asks me if I liked the band.
"You were great," I say, which is a complete lie. I've seen some bad bands over the years, but these guys were beyond awful. "I really liked the second song," I add, although I'm pretty sure he can tell that it's not true. I've always been a terrible liar, and I just embarrass myself whenever I try.
"I really need a cigarette," Rob says after we've been talking for a while. "Wanna come out with me?"
"Sure," I say, following him over to the door. I have no idea why I'm still here, but in some strange way I feel as if I'm actually starting to like Rob. Soon we're out on the pavement, and I watch the cars go by while Rob is lighting up. Even so close to midnight, there's a load of traffic on the road, with car horns honking every few seconds. Red double-decker buses race past, and I feel a strange feeling stirring in my heart: for the first time since I got back, I actually feel good about being in London. I've missed this city.
"Here," Rob says, suddenly putting his jacket over my shoulders. "I thought you might be cold." He looks at my collarbone and then he reaches out and touches the skin with a finger. "Goose pimples," he jokes.
I smile. No guy has ever put a coat around my shoulders before. I feel like I'm starting to see a new side to Rob tonight, and it's clear that I'm not the only one who's changed over the years. Maybe I was wrong this morning when I dismissed him as being kind of a jerk. Then again, maybe I've just drunk too much.
