Ella, The Slayer

by A. W. Exley

  Magda took one look, rolled her eyes, and went back to the pile of dishes. Henry had probably passed this way heading out to the field, to check on the labouring bovine.

  Alice snatched the shirt from my hands. "Boots and trousers, hurry."

  The trousers were barely past my hips when Alice dropped the gown over my head. Too small for Charlotte turned out to be just right for me. With my extra height, it stopped just below my knee and draped in a wonderful, soft silhouette that was very similar to the style just unveiled by Callot Soeurs in the latest fashion magazine.

  "Hair," I said to Alice. "What about my hair?"

  We had less than a minute before I was expected out the front bearing a shotgun.

  "Ah," she cried and grabbed the waist tie. The small scissors were whipped out of her pocket and she cut the stitches. Then she wrapped the band around my head. "Perfect." She grinned at her creativity and pulled the last loose thread free.

  Magda handed me a pair of high-heeled buttoned shoes from the discarded shoe box. The leather was worn over the toes, but no one would notice in the dark. Hopefully, no one would notice me at all.

  "Say hello to Frank for me, and give him this." Alice pecked me on the cheek.

  "I'll do no such thing!" I called out as I grabbed the loaded shotgun from the rack by the door and raced out to meet the motorcar.

  Outside sat father's pride and joy, the torpedo-bodied Star 15.9 HP motor vehicle. When he heard they were reaching speeds of nearly 60 miles an hour on the race track, he had to possess one. Who would guess the quiet, country-dwelling knight harboured the soul of a speed demon? Or perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, since I seemed to have inherited it. I still remembered the day in 1913 when ours arrived, a brilliant cherry red; and we all pitched in to maintain and polish the paintwork. As I walked over the lime-chip drive, I looked up at the window, hoping to see father looking down at his beloved motor, but of course he had gone to bed already.

  My heart hung heavy in my chest as I ran a hand along the front guard. Whenever there was an outing, Stewart played chauffeur, the lady of the house and my two step-sisters sitting behind. I breathed a sigh of relief that the motor didn't have a dickie seat, or I would be clinging on at the rear like a foot servant hanging off a carriage. At least I got to sit up front.

  Stewart held the door open as they climbed in, and latched it shut behind them. There was a slight gleam in his eye as he turned to me. "Ready?"

  "As I'll ever be," I sighed and took my place, the shotgun resting over my knees. Some birthday this was turning out to be.

  Chapter Ten

  Stewart drove the motorcar along the graceful sweep of the driveway. Tonight was a private affair; there was only a small number of people expected, and our motor sat alone at the front portico.

  "Do keep out of the way, Eleanor," Elizabeth said under her breath as the butler opened the side door and offered his hand. Louise pushed Charlotte out of the way to go next.

  As they disappeared up the wide steps, I saluted. "Yes, ma'am." I waved my hand into the dark. "Around the back my good man, before any respectable person claps eyes on me."

  Stewart chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

  In the rear yard of the sprawling Serenity House, nine other motors were all lined up. Chauffeurs gathered in the dim light of the stables and smoked cigarettes, rolled dice, and chatted.

  I slung the shotgun over my back and joined the edges of the group. I didn't want to dampen the men's conversation, and I still longed for time to myself.

  Frank broke away from the game and walked toward me. He wore an uneven smile, and it struck me he was a man comfortable with his looks and charm. Similar, and yet at odds with his employer. Seth held a mild hesitance, perhaps because women saw the title first and the man second, or possibly even third after the size of his bank balance. Frank had the swagger of a man who knew women wanted him and not any trappings. No wonder Alice found him appealing.

  "Hello, Ella. No night off?"

  "Hi Frank. No, apparently my discreet presence was required."

  He huffed a soft laugh and tossed his cigarette, squashing the butt under his toe. "Honestly, that woman treats you like a servant. What you need is a union."

  I laughed. "I think she's already a big believer is Suffrage, particularly mine."

  "Why don't you join us? The kitchens will send out supper shortly, Seth always makes sure everyone gets fed." He gestured back to the fire dancing in the brazier. It burned not for warmth, as the summer evening was mild, but for the cheery comfort the flames emitted.

  Seth. His name ticked over in my head, it hadn't sounded odd until now. Frank referred to him by his first name, not your grace or Lord Leithfield.

  "Why do you call him that?" If I didn't ask, I would never find out.

  That easy smile graced his face, his grey eyes glinting with humour. "Because it's his name."

  He went back to the other men and left me without an adequate explanation. There was something afoot here, and I narrowed my eyes. A vague niggle in the back of my head whispered of a secret to be sniffed out, I just needed a starting point. If Frank wouldn't share, then I planned to tackle Alice as soon as I got home. Up in our tiny attic room she would have no escape.

  Stewart waved me over, and I was greeted with smiles and kind words. I soon found a set of dice in one hand as I tried to beat another man's roll. Two sixes landed face up in the dirt, and cheers of hooray went up around me. Maybe I could get used to this easy camaraderie. Plates of steaming food arrived from the kitchen, and true to Frank's word, Seth delivered us a mouth-watering meal of venison casserole.

  I let the men's chatter wash over me. They talked of many things, but I noticed there was one topic nobody ever mentioned.

  "None of you talk about the war," I said to Frank as I spooned more stew into my mouth.

  For the first time that night, the smile dropped away. "We don't need to talk about it, we were there."

  "But we weren't. If you don't tell us about it, who will?" I read the newspaper, and when the occasional silent newsreel turned up and we all sat in church to watch as Father Mason read from a sheet. But that all seemed removed, narrated by the reverend and not told in a voice of a participant. I didn't understand their reluctance, was it some soldier code of secrecy?

  "Because it's too raw, and most of us just want to forget. We want to move on with our lives and build something new, not remember everything we saw torn apart and trampled underfoot." His gaze searched mine. Gosh, when he's being serious he looked like his employer.

  His words triggered something in me. "I think that's why Henry can't speak, his mind is still trapped there." I wanted to reach my friend, trapped somewhere on an abandoned battlefield. If only I could reach him, somehow, and bring him fully home to us.

  "Are you sure he can't talk?" Frank asked.

  I frowned. Anyone who met Henry knew he couldn't talk. Wind blew over his vocal cords like a gust through the desolate old mill. Only in the grip of his nightmares could he scream. "What do you mean? Of course he can't talk."

  He shrugged. "Lot of women in your household, are you sure he just can't get a word in?"

  He laughed at the look on my face, and I smacked his arm. "Not funny."

  "You and Alice are doing the right thing by him, Ella. Just keep reminding him he's home, among the living. Some of us saw so much death, it's hard to imagine anything else."

  I cleaned out my bowl with a piece of fresh bread and placed it in the large wicker basket to go back to the kitchen. "I'm going for a walk."

  Frank pointed to the north side of Serenity House. "You can go that way and spy in the window if you like. Don't wander too far though."

  I patted the shotgun. "I won't."

  I followed one wall of buff stone and walked around a corner. This side of the house had high windows and light spilled out onto the gravel. Laughter and chatter rose over the quiet music playing in the background. I bit my lip, should I peek? Part of me wanted to know how
the dinner party was unfolding, but another part didn't want to end up shot, mistaken for a prowling vermin.

  Curiosity won out. I crept behind a rampant shrub and peered between its green boughs. My line of sight was somewhat hampered, but I saw enough. The dinner table was cleared, and the diners had moved to the adjourning room to take their coffee, brandy, and cigars. Charlotte looked a gem amongst them in her harem pants. Two men were talking to her, and I saw a blush creep up her neck. Good for her, her sister always dominated attention and it was nice to see her garner some for herself.

  Seth stood talking to a number of expensively dressed women. Diamonds dripped from ear lobes and around necks. Louise by contrast was bereft of ostentatious jewellery. I knew exactly what topic she would castigate her mother about on the ride home. She clung to Seth's arm as though he were a life preserver thrown off the Titanic. Her grasp looked so tight, even from my position in the shrubbery I could see his hand twitch, no doubt trying to regain sensation.

  His handsome face seem pinched, and tired lines were drawn around his eyes. Not that anyone seem to notice. We obviously had a difference of opinion about the disposal of vermin, but I felt genuinely sorry for him. He was trapped by his title and position, he couldn't remove it or set it aside. It hung over him like an enveloping cloud.

  I backed away and headed across the drive to the garden at the side of the house. The darkened maze drew my attention. Oh to lose to myself within its verdant walls. What will I find? Myself perhaps, wondering what to make of my life? I repositioned the shotgun on my back and heaved a sigh.

  Happy birthday to me.

  I should leave, perhaps go to London and start afresh, but I could never leave while father still breathed. And not while the others needed my sword arm.

  Someone turned up the music, the melody floating across the lawn as I entered the maze. The dense shrubbery muted the sounds, but it lent a magical air to my wanderings. I kept my left hand trailing through the tufts, an old trick to ensure you didn't turn yourself around and double back. It would take longer, but I didn't mind. I enjoyed being lost, if only for a little while.

  Before too long, the last corner turned into the heart of the maze, revealing a square clearing with a large pond at its centre where bright orange koi flashed under the moonlight. A fountain of a young woman holding an urn trickled water below, adding a high sweet note to the soaring saxophone.

  Peace enveloped me as I sat on the stone edge, trailing my fingers in the cool water. Lush jasmine wafted across the night air from an arbour on one side of the clearing. The perfect place for lovers to shelter while they exchanged kisses.

  "You're not carrying a sword tonight, I hope?"

  The voice made me jump, and I leapt to my feet. My heart beat against my chest as he stepped from the hedge like a topiary come to life.

  I dropped a quick curtsey. "No, your grace, shotgun tonight." I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder.

  In the pale light I saw the smile on his face. "Seth, remember? We had this conversation." He wore a black dinner jacket and crisp white shirt, but had pulled apart his bow tie and it hung loose around his neck. "I thought you hadn't come. I asked Warrens to ensure you were invited, but you never appeared inside."

  He invited me? Did that mean he had flushed out my hiding spot? "I arrived with my relatives. They are inside and no doubt they will sorely miss your presence." Brilliant Ella, that entire sentence was truthful, not a single lie needed.

  He laughed. "Ever seen a cat toy with a mouse? The way it will bat it back and forth just for its own entertainment? That's what I felt like in there — the mouse. Flicked back and forth to keep the women entertained."

  Personally, I would compare my step-relatives to a venomous snake. Or perhaps a boa constrictor, given the way Louise clutched at him. She looked like she could break a few of his ribs before trying to devour him.

  "Why didn't you come in? I was looking for you." He moved closer with feline grace, no battered mouse here.

  Inside, I breathed a sigh of relief that I was wearing a dress. At least I appeared in the dark to be another dinner guest. "Because after how we parted at the manse, I thought I might not be welcome."

  He stopped and that piercing gaze held mine. "Oh, Ella." He took my hands in his, and drew me over to the bower.

  I followed his lead and dropped onto the seat, although it was awfully intimate, a mere fraction of an inch separated our bodies. He let my hand go, and we sat in silence for a moment.

  "I'm sorry, I never mean to offend. It's just that watching you dispose of that poor turned woman brought back memories I would rather leave buried."

  I swallowed. Having spoken to Frank this evening, I was starting to understand. Burying many aspects of the war helped these men piece their lives back together.

  "I was stationed on the Northern front, and I saw men who delighted in the slaughter. Pleas for mercy meant nothing to them. They had black, soulless eyes like a shark and would laugh as they drove the bayonet into a wounded man."

  I frowned, this evening just got worse. "You think I have soulless eyes?"

  "No." His grey eyes widened. "Quite the opposite. If the eyes are the windows to the souls, then yours are a masterpiece stained glass window residing in a great cathedral. Breath-stealing beautiful, a man could spend a lifetime studying every nuance and shade and the underlining meaning in their complexity." His gaze remained fixed on mine.

  "Oh." One little syllable was all I could manage. What on earth did a girl say in response to that?

  "Never did I mean to liken you to them." He reached out and took my hand. "Some memories of war bubble to the surface and won't stay submerged."

  He's holding my hand. The duke, holding the hand of the housekeeper's daughter. I looked around, first to check if anyone was watching to denounce me, and then a giggle of joy burst up in my chest. He was holding my hand. What strange power such a simple act possessed, all my consciousness focused on the point of contact. He warmed me, and liquid heat spread up my arm as though I had chugged back father's best brandy.

  "The war hasn't ended though, it just changed," I whisper.

  "You are extraordinary," he said. "I have never met another woman quite like you." His other hand caressed the side of my face. He leaned closer and his scent wrapped around me, mingling with the surrounding jasmine. He pulled me toward him.

  His lips brushed against mine in the barest butterfly kiss. I gasped as electricity arced between us. He let go of my hand to slide his arm around my waist as he tormented me with his touch, pulling me closer to deepen the kiss. His tongue flicked along the seam of my lips and I parted them, granting him access as the music slowed and swelled. Heat rolled through my body as I let him lead in this dance, mimicking the nips he gave to my lip before he lured my tongue into his mouth to explore.

  Just as well we were sitting, my knees turned to liquid and only his arm around me kept my torso upright. If he let go now, I would flop to the ground like a boneless ragdoll. My body screamed for more as I pressed myself to him. His heat radiated through the thin fabric of my dress.

  An eternity later, he pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. We both breathed hard. "I had hoped you would be here," he said.

  "And now you have found me," I replied.

  A loud call of "Your grace! Your grace!" floated above the saxophone and drifted through the dense yew. Seth groaned and tucked me against his side.

  "You have been missed. Best the mouse returns, now that he has recovered his breath." I certainly needed to recover mine. My chest heaved as though I had ran all the way home, and I suspected my legs had turned to jelly.

  Voices moved closer and continued to call his name. "Will you be at the fete?" he asked.

  "I imagine so. You had best return to the party, or they will think you have been dragged into the undergrowth by a vermin." I gave him a push, admittedly a half-hearted one, as I didn't want to lose his touch.

  He gave me a quick, swift kiss on t
he lips and rose to his feet. "Good, I will find you Sunday. You should know, I am going to hold a ball, you will have to come and dance with me. Promise, Ella. Promise you will dance with me."

  Absurd. Preposterous. But the moment was magical and anything could happen. "All right. Now go, before they find us here — alone."

  Another kiss and he was gone, back amongst the greenery.

  Chapter Eleven

  I sat in the darkened maze for several minutes and wrapped the night around me. I wanted to inscribe every second of what had just happened into my memory. The way his hand inched up my back and traced over each vertebrae and sent a shiver racing over my limbs. The heady scent of the jasmine as lassitude seeped through my body. The taste of his lips and tongue as he urged me to play a new game. Every teeny tiny detail had to be etched into recollection before I could rise from the seat, so that I might carry it with me always.

  Besides, I needed time for my bones to knit back together and support my weight.

  By the time I returned to the cars, Stewart was looking for me.

  "We've been summoned," he said and we walked back to our gleaming motorcar.

  Frank waved us off, and I swear he knew something had happened with the way he winked conspiratorially at me.

  The excited chatter on the way home hurt my ears. I tried to block them out, letting my gaze drift over the passing countryside. Thankfully it was a short ride back to our house. Even so, by the time I climbed from the car, my ears ached as though I stood too close to a screaming siren.

  Elizabeth clapped her hands and congratulated her daughters on a night well done. Apparently the wedding invitations were practically ready to be sent out. She commandeered Alice to help her undress, leaving me to wrangle Charlotte and Louise. Although it struck me as quite ridiculous; we were in the twentieth century, grown women should be able to undress and climb into bed on their own. Biting my tongue on my revolutionary thoughts of overthrowing the bourgeoisie, I caught discarded items of clothing as the sisters talked non-stop. Or more correctly, Louise talked non-stop, while Charlotte kept her own counsel.