Ella, The Slayer

by A. W. Exley

  Nothing looked amiss. Even the open door could be explained by the weather, left ajar to allow a gentle breeze to refresh the rooms within.

  We dismounted and hitched the horses to a rail. The men spread out, each glancing to Seth for their commands, and it struck me that Frank had picked former soldiers among the Serenity House staff. They moved as one unit, no words necessary between them thanks to a bond forged long ago. By a series of hand gestures, Seth sent two around back and one to stay by the horses, while Frank headed through the front garden.

  Seth and I stood at the bottom of the front path. I kept abreast of the newspapers, those sallying straight up the front never did as well as those creeping around the back. I pondered adding my sword to the surprise attack planned for around the back, when Seth took my hand. Well, would be rude to join the others now. He pulled me through the lavender as Frank took the other side. The duke placed a finger to his lips as he approached the window with its wide open shutters. I stayed back while the two men peered into the darkened interior.

  They exchanged glances and shakes of no. Frank clutched his rifle and crept up on the front door. He fed the barrel into the shade first and took a cautious step after it. We waited until his cry of clear rang out, then we joined him.

  The cottage contained four rooms in an easy layout. The front door opened into a parlour, and as soon as my eyes adjusted to the drop in light level, my hope sank. By the striped armchair, the sewing basket was upturned, leaving skeins of cotton strewn over the floor. The droppings splattered down the backs of chairs showed that birds were coming in at night through the open windows, roosting undisturbed.

  "Nothing in the kitchen," one of the men yelled.

  The entire house was eerie. I expected it to be quiet out here, but even the sound of birds and cattle failed to reach inside. The interior lay cocooned in sad silence. We soon checked the two bedrooms and found nothing except signs of a struggle. The coverlet on the double bed was flung back, and a trail of blood led from the bed, along the floor, and then out the door. I followed the line until it became droplets, and then the trail disappeared amongst the dust under foot.

  Back in the parlour, my gaze kept drifting to the skein of yellow thread. I picked it up. The colour was dull with grime from birds and perhaps curious chickens. Was that what she used to embroider the daisies?

  "No sign of them," I whispered to no one in particular. The original virus killed quietly, it snuck up while the victims tossed and turned in their sick beds. Most never knew death's hand reached out for them. The second wave was nothing of the sort. It struck with violence and took people while they screamed and struggled.

  "We'll check the barn, looks like the boys slept over there," Frank said. He and the three men left us alone.

  Tears burned in my throat as I thought of a mother dragged from her bed. Did her daughter run to hide behind the armchair? And what of her sons? Did they hear the screams from inside the house?

  "Come," Seth said. "Let's wait in the sun, there's nothing more we can do here."

  Chapter Fourteen

  We rode back in silence, and then Frank drove me home. I managed to bury my feelings under the herculean list of tasks step-mother expected us to complete every day. My gut was more twisted than a pair of bloomers going through the wringer on washing day. The sheer horror the Linton family suffered, when they should have been safe in their beds, hit me hardest. Over the last few months I had become inured to what I had to do, but sobbing in Seth's arms broke the ice holding together my internal dam, and now I couldn't stem the flow.

  I continued to struggle with my growing attraction to the Duke of Leithfield. He kissed me as though I were the only woman in the world, and at the same time he never pushed me to the back or tried to protect me. He held me at his side, like an equal. What game was he playing?

  After a restless night, the next day I still walked in a daze. Even Magda scolded me for being underfoot. My mind seemed disconnected from my body, and I relied on Alice giving me a push in the right direction.

  "Go grab their laundry," Alice said, nudging me toward the stairs. "We may as well get the whites on to soak now."

  I came up from the closeted servants' stairs and headed for the main stairwell. The house wasn't flash enough to have servants' stairs and access halls hidden throughout. Only traffic to and from the kitchens below was concealed from view. They had to cope with knowing we all trod the same floorboards on the first and second floor.

  "Eleanor?" Elizabeth called my name from the parlour.

  I froze mid-step, like a rabbit when it hears the dogs. I didn't have my wits about me to parry with her, not that I ever truly pushed back.

  "Yes, ma'am?" I curtseyed from the doorway.

  Step-mother was seated at the Devonport by the window. Lilies climbed up the writing desk's legs and bloomed to support the open top. She laid down her pen to glare at me.

  "I hear a rumour that you disappeared from the fete yesterday with the duke. Apart from the fact he is all but announced to be engaged to Louise, I find it preposterous he would be seen with a scullery maid. Do tell me people were deceived."

  Engaged? He didn't kiss me like a man who was engaged elsewhere. Not that I had an enormous amount of experience, but surely a girl would be able to tell if a fellow's feelings were elsewhere occupied?

  "Speak, Eleanor, if you are capable of saying anything in your defence."

  Her words dripped venom, she always assumed me to be a lack wit simply because I chose to keep quiet. My back heated under my dress, already I imagined the fall of the switch over my bare skin. If she knew even a fraction of the truth, she would flail me to the bone.

  "I went with his man, ma'am, Frank Mercer. We rode out with some of the duke's staff to investigate the cottage. We needed to see what had happened to the little girl's family." I couldn't bring myself to call her a vermin. That one would forever be a child in my memory. "In case there were more vermin to dispatch."

  "Oh." She scowled at the word. She thought them much the same as filthy rats to be drowned, so a fitting task for me. "But I heard you left in the duke's motor?" One black brow arched. She laid her trap, and fully expected to catch me in it.

  "The duke and Frank are of a similar build." And now I blurted the words out, certain things jangled in my brain. They did look awfully similar, enough that from a distance one could easily be mistaken for the other.

  Elizabeth made a noise in her throat and that brow arched a little higher. I wasn't sure if she believed me or not. Lies dried up in my throat and clogged up my tongue. Fortunately, Alice picked this exact moment to enter the parlour, a duster in her hand. Her gaze flicked from Elizabeth to me, and back again.

  "Ah, Alice. Who, exactly, did Eleanor leave the fete with yesterday?"

  Sweat trickled from my armpits and ran down the inside of my uniform. I refused to look at Alice, step-mother would see any attempt at a signal.

  "Why that would have been Frank, ma'am. He's the duke's man and usually drives his motor. He found Ella a change of clothes, and gave her a horse to ride out after the vermin that killed the wee mite's family."

  I was going to kiss my clever, clever friend.

  Elizabeth frowned. "What of the duke?"

  "I believe he left with the other men in the larger motor, ma'am. Some important business to do at the big house. All beyond my comprehension, I'm afraid."

  I might even name my first child after her, assuming I lived that long.

  "Well, of course, as a duke that man has vital duties you could never understand." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed and racked over me. Not quite through the briar patch yet. "Stay away from him, Eleanor. Do you hear me? He is to marry Louise, not have a dalliance with a servant."

  "Of course, ma'am. If that is all, I must check our fences."

  She waved her hand. "Go do your farm work and stay far away from Serenity House."

  "Ma'am." We both dropped curtseys and scurried away. We barely made it through the k
itchen door when I grabbed Alice around the middle in a massive hug. She squealed, but hugged me back.

  "Thank you," I whispered. "You just saved my skin."

  "Horrid old cow, as if I would tell her you drove off with him. Louise hid in the tent until it was all over, so she never saw a thing. Just lucky Seth and Frank look similar, people often get them confused." She straightened her cap that I had knocked sideways with my enthusiastic thank you.

  My body was going through an internal battle, but I knew one thing. My skin itched for his touch, my ears burned to hear his voice, and my eyes needed to feast on his form. She could flog me, flail me, or lock me in the stables, but I would enjoy and savour every second of this summer. Right up until the chill autumn wind blew through, and he formally asked Louise to marry him. In the steps it took from the parlour to the kitchen, I made up my mind. Louise might have Seth as her husband, but I planned to have him first.

  "Where are you off to now?" Alice asked as I headed to the back door.

  I grinned. My heart felt lighter, and there was only one thing I could do.

  "I'm going to go find him, of course."

  Frank, the devilish man who conspired with the witch Alice, let slip a certain fact when he drove me home. Seth liked to take time to himself in the mornings, riding the hills and fields before he tackled work in his office. If I headed in the right direction, Molly and I should spot him.

  We cantered over the paddocks. There was one fence that separated our adjoining properties that been turned into a spar for jumping years ago, when there had been time for hunting. The mare pricked her ears as we headed for the obstacle, shortening her stride. Her body bunched as she jumped. We landed the other side with a soft thud as earth flew from under her hooves. On we rode, until in the distance, I spotted a chestnut.

  I put my heel to the mare and she responded, galloping over the paddock. Up ahead, Seth turned at the sound of approaching hooves. He waved a hand, waiting for me to catch up. Wherein I discovered a slight problem, I was winded and grinning like a fool.

  "Good ride?" he asked with an easy smile that added overheated to my list of problems.

  "It's improving," I said once I caught enough breath.

  "I know just the spot to sit, if you care to join me?" He left the offer hanging.

  Ha! I just tore across the countryside to find him, what did he expect? That I would say, 'oh no thanks, I need to go scrub your future wife's knickers?'

  "Lead on." I smiled.

  Ridiculously happy feelings welled up in my stomach, and my frozen pond continued to shatter and melt away. Now that I had made my decision, I latched onto every second with him that came my way.

  We rode to the top of a hill and dismounted, leaving the horses to graze as we sat on the grass under a spreading elm. The leaves rustled above, rocked by a faint breeze as we gazed at the grand house below.

  It really was beautiful. Built with warm golden brick, it stretched out its arms as two wings on either side. Massive columns, perfectly in proportion to the rest of the enormous house, held aloft the portico. An expanse of green lawn ran from the house down to the water. The silver ribbon of river wound its way past the front, reflecting the clear blue sky above. Idyllic. Peaceful. You could see why the first duke had christened it Serenity House.

  "Such a glorious spot to grow up. You must have had so many adventures around here." I know I did. I doubt there's a tree I hadn't climbed in the district, or a river that I hadn't stripped down to my chemise and swam in.

  He shook his head. "I gaze at it and see only a procession of sad memories."

  "Oh." Well, that drained some of the magic out of the sight. "Surely not?"

  "My parents married for convenience, not love. Theirs was an acrimonious relationship. I often thought they had completely forgotten I existed, as I was frequently overlooked while they argued. Then one day, Frank arrived as my playmate. At least I had company to roam these hills for a few short years, before we were shipped off to separate schools. I only came home at Christmas, when mother reappeared for the sakes of silencing the gossips. I lost her when the Titanic sank."

  "I know." Although technically, you couldn't blame the house for that. It's not like the Titanic had hit an iceberg in the river out front.

  His gaze shot to mine, even though he must have known it was local gossip for months. Although I wouldn't breathe a word of the rumour that she had been heading to New York to meet a lover. "It was a national tragedy, the newspapers spoke of nothing else, and every one scanned the lists for the names of those they knew."

  He grunted and looked down at his laced hands. Since he opened the topic, I pounced on the opportunity to satisfy my own morbid curiosity. There were details not reported in the papers.

  "If you don't mind my asking, how did a duchess fail to secure a seat on a life raft? I understood noble women were piled in first."

  A soft chuckled erupted from his throat. "Yes, the subject of much speculation. All I know is that she was not in her cabin when the staff went to fetch her to put her in one of the first life rafts."

  "What do you think happened?" The sinking was a national tragedy, until the Great War overtook it. All I knew was that there were far fewer fatalities amongst first class than among the others.

  "Why would a woman not be in her cabin in the middle of the night? I suspect she was with someone else. Who knows if she even really drowned? Her body was never recovered. Perhaps she took the opportunity to start a new life in America, without the attached scandal of a divorce."

  I laid a hand over his. "I'm so sorry. I heard she was a formidable woman, and a great supporter of the Suffrage movement." If the late duchess had egalitarian tendencies, perhaps she wouldn't have sneered at my servant mother. But then, campaigning for women's rights was quite different to having the help sniffing around your son and heir.

  He laughed. "I never quite fathomed if she genuinely wanted the vote, or simply took up the campaign to try and trigger a fatal heart attack in father. She would have liked you though. She valued resourceful women." He turned my hand over and stroked his thumb over the pulse point on the inside of my wrist, a most distracting motion. Like winding a clock, it set off a chain reaction in my body. "All throughout my time on the front, I never asked my men to do, or endure, anything I would not do right beside to them."

  My mother would have liked Seth; there was an openness in his gaze. At times I truly believed he saw me, and not the lady he thought me to be. That if I blurted out everything, he would just shrug and then kiss me senseless.

  "How did it start, Ella? How did you come to have this role?"

  Rats. He wasn't talking about my role of servitude. I laid back down on the grass, staring up at the sky through the rustling leaves. It began a lifetime ago, or so it seemed.

  "It was November. The flu pandemic had all but burned itself out. There were no new patients falling sick, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Armistice had been declared. The flu slunk back where it came from, and we were looking forward to the Christmas celebration."

  Father and Henry had returned to us, but not as we remembered them. One a sleep walker, the other a statue. A sadness had settled over our home, one we struggled to dislodge as Elizabeth's grip tightened, once she knew that father could never call her to account for her actions.

  "Alice—"

  "Your maid?" his voice interrupted.

  "Alice the maid, yes." That wasn't a lie. Alice was a maid, she just wasn't my maid. "She wanted to walk to town, and I decided to accompany her. I was taking my katana to Reverend Mason. He has several books on Japanese history, and we were going to look up the engraving on the blade. The sword is easier to carry over your back, and that was where I had slung it. The weather was cool and we were wrapped up warm, but I didn't mind the walk. It gave you time to think, whereas travelling fast in the motor or by bike stops you from thinking at all."

  "I thought you liked my motor." I could hear the humour in his tone, and didn't
need to look to conjure the wide smile on his face.

  "I love your motor, now stop interrupting my story. We were walking along the path to the manse, when we saw a man approaching from the other direction. He wove back and forth; Alice commented that he looked drunk. His clothing was torn and light for the weather, and his hair was matted. We thought he must have been a vagabond, living rough."

  I could see the man now as clearly as I did on that day, weaving down the path toward us, lurching from one side to the other with only a light shirt and vest hanging off his frame.

  "As he neared, Alice called out, 'are you all right?' I put out my hand and drew her to a stop. Something wasn't right. Then I noticed the little details. His eyeball hung from the socket, brushing against his cheek. Through his open vest and shirt, I could see the skin pulled back across his chest and the dull cream of bone beneath."

  "Was he one of the first to return to the village?"

  "Yes." A sparrow landed on the branch above my head, looking down at me as I remembered. He was the son of the local baker. He had returned from the war with a chest wound and died when the influenza targeted his weakened system. Not long after that, I realised I would need to keep a record of the returned and dispatched, like some grisly postal worker.

  "Alice screamed. Men from across the road ran to us and stopped him. One put his hand on his chest. The creature looked down, backed up, and lunged. He grabbed the other man's head and began chewing and tearing at his nose and face."

  God, the noise. Not just the screams of the attacked man, but the tear and rip of gristle. The chewing of flesh between its jaws, and the thirsty slurping noise as it lapped at the flowing blood, like a hot child on a summer's day with an ice to lick.

  "Chaos erupted. The men yelled and tried to pull them apart. One recognised him — Tim Matthews. He had died from influenza six weeks before. He was buried in the mass grave at the far side of the cemetery."