Realistic or Modern Victorian London

[Syrrus]

Victor was losing his patience. "Do I have to draw my long sword?"


The nobleman jumped off his horse and did just as he had said, he pulled his beautiful three-quarter basket sword from its sheet. It was what one would call a Gothic-hilted sword, a elegant blade produced in Germany, and mostly seen in the hands of a British infantry officer. Yet here he was, Lord Edwards with it in a tight grip and with Jack's Enfield revolver in the other.


The man stepped forth, swinging is blade gracefully without taking his eyes of the bandit. He shot one bullet, without the knowledge of how many the revolver actually carried, towards the ground, next to the man's foot.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret shied away from the bullet more than the bandit did, hurling her head back and accidentally clobbering her kidnapper in the face. He let out a howl and cupped his nose which had started to spurt blood.


As soon as the bandit was distracted Margaret raced back to Victor, yanking her dress back to a dignified position as soon as she could. "I didn't know my head would be more adequate than any other weapon," she murmured, trying to keep herself from touching his arm lest he would shake her off.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor blinked in confusion at what happened and then simply made sure Margaret was safe behind him. He was still looking at her when he aimed a gun at the bandit and fired, twice without looking.


"Are you alright?" He asked, without adding 'my dear' or any other polite end to his sentence, like he normaly did.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret immediately noticed the lack of endearment when Victor regarded her, and her mouth pulled into a slight frown. Was he upset with her? Was he upset that the bandit had poorly taken her for ransom? Her thigh and tongue still burned hot with the feeling of his grimy skin against hers.


The bandit howled, for both bullets had landed in a leg even though Mr. Edwards hadn't been watching where he shot. "The nose wasn't enough?" He moaned as he cupped his face. "Bloody Irish girl..."


Margaret frowned more and straightened, wishing she looked more dignified than she did with her ragged old calico dress, flaming hair tangled back, pale skin streaked with soot. She believed she had looked more presentable as a bartender, something she never would have admitted before coming to America. She had even thought she had gotten rid of the old accent and adopted the London one!


"We could've had a fun time, dollface," the bandit murmured as he tried to wipe the blood onto his soiled sheet. "I could've given you a fun time before taking care of you..."


She stiffened considerably behind Victor. "You were planning on killing me?" Her voice quivered a little, which made her upset.


"What else would I do?" He chuckled under his breath. "I can't feed you, and I'm sure blood would like nice running down your pretty neck."

 

[Syrrus]

Victor could feel his eye twitch. There was so many things he could say, so many things he could do. The bleeding stranger was begging for it, surely. Victor walked up to the man and pointed his sword towards his neck, piercing the skin like a needle prick.


"Apologize." Said Victor, though his voice seemed to come from an entierly different man. It was cold, unforgiving and almost menacing. "Apologize to my bride and I will not make you cry to your Lord for mercy but bring justice upon you like his angels would."


Jack appeared behind them, leading his hourse and covering his bleeding shoulder with the dirty palm of his hand. He looked confused andpeered between Margaret and Victor with big eyes.

 

[GreyZone]

"Sorry," the bandit replied quickly, for he was a coward when the situation turned dire. "I didn't mean no harm, mister, truly--"


Margaret could hardly believe his blasphemous murmurings, but she knew better than to step back into the situation.


"I'll just be on my way then," he replied, swallowing hard as he gave the sword a side-eye. "Nice to meet you folks."

 

[Syrrus]

"And you better not." Victor replied and he carved the letters 'M.E' upon the man's forhead with the tip of his blade. "A gift, to remember the lovely Margaret Edwards, and so you'll never forget your sin." He swung his blad through the air and took a step back. "Run, before I change my mind."

 

[GreyZone]

The man was so shocked by the barbarity of the situation (for such a bandit who threatened to kidnap and ravish ladies for ransom was no barbarian) that it took a while for the sting of the sharp blade to resister in his blame. "What a damn clod!" He bellowed, knocking the sword away when Mr. Edwards finished and he could muster up thought enough to do so. "What the hell did you just do?"


Margaret's head tilted curiously when she examined her initials carved into the man's grimy flesh. "I never thought that the look of my name in blood could be so fascinating but I'm not all too appalled."


"You are no lady, you cole-cracker fire bush--" He started to curse. "I wouldn't want you any way."


"Oh, don't you want to call me Mead or Mick while you're at it?" Margaret snorted a little. She had heard every slang for an Irishman under the son. "At least get a little creative. I'm surprised you don't want to ask if what's under my dress matches my head. Usually only the bravest of men venture into that territory."


The bandit howled again. "I tell you, no lady indeed!"


"And you, sir, are no gentleman," she spit back in a cold voice.

 

[Syrrus]

"Get going." Victor growled under his breath, like a wild dog. It was jack who did something next, aiming his rifle towards the gentleman's crotch he fired and Victor leaped backwards in shock and surprised, while Jack blew smoke away from the barrel. "Good riddance, I say."


Victor glanced towards Jack with a pale face, a very pale face indeed. "Old friend, remind me to never cross you."


"Hah! No worries highness, shall we get goin' then?"

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret went back from her previous attempts to give Victor his space and jumped onto his arm at that shout. M.E., flashed across her brain as she stared at the initials engraved in his forehead for she was too scared to look at anything else that Jack just might have blown up; Margaret Edwards. Not Margaret Doyle. He had used his own last name and it shocked her. When did this bachelor do such a radical change? In one night?


"I feel like I'm going to faint," she whispered, her hand soon reaching up to cover her eyes. The stays cutting into her ribs didn't help anything, especially considering the fact there was blood splashed over one of her feet from the man's...wound. He was bellowing so horribly she wished that Jack would injure him worse to kill him.

 

[Syrrus]

"Are we leavin' then?" Asked Jack as he leaned his rifle against his shoulder. Victor continued to blink in slight confusion and his eyes darted from one person to another. He didn't feel guilty nor did care for the lowlife they were about to leave. A shot like that would probably kill him sooner than later.


Mister Edwards was not a murderer, but he believed that when a man threatened to take ones life, pointing a weapon towards them, they were allowed to be brought before justice and not a judge. Eye for an eye and all that.


"Yes." Said Victor calmly as he gently took hold of Margaret, incase she was indeed going to faint. He also removed a bottle of vodka from the satchel hanging from his horse's sadle and tossed it towards the bandit, together with additional medical suplies that they could afford to leave behind.


The bandit had threatened to make his way with a unwilling woman, a high crime and a great disgrace, a horrible thing in fact. But it was not death and so Victor could not justify leaving the man with no means to save his life.


"Let us go." Victor grabbed Margaret's waist in an attempt to pull her up into his horse's sadle.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret allowed herself to be tossed up like a rag doll, her mind thinking of absolutely nothing but not fainting. The minute she opened her eyes she saw the blood splatters on her foot and laid down over the horse's mane before she could topple off. As she tried not to think of the bandit's latest wound, she could practically still feel the heat from his grubby fingers, up her skirts so far to a place where she wanted Mr. Edwards and no one else.


Suddenly, she wanted her mother for the first time in years. She had loved that woman more than anything, but over time, she had forced herself to move on. But as she was waiting for them to move, she suddenly wished that her head was on her mother's lap, the hand lovingly stroking through her hair to get her to sleep.


"Aw, sir, at least let me die with dignity," the man hissed through clenched teeth, but was in too much pain and too much of a coward to deny the supplies.

 

[Syrrus]

"That I am." Said Victor as he started to lead his horse back towards the others."The same dignity you gave a bride."


Jack let out a sharp whistle and the two horses who had hurried away in fright as the battle had begun came back with new courage. Jack tied Margaret's horse to Victor as the noble climbed up behind the young woman and wrapped one arm around her waist. He said nothing for he was not the comforting sort and instead moved the steed forward with a tap of his heels.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret was so unbelievably thankful when he climbed onto the horse behind her; she knew she had no right to request that of him earlier as he had his own horse and she needed to just square her shoulders and move on; however, his solid presence behind her was such a relief she could cry. Except she knew perfectly well how foolish he would find her tears so she sat up, her eyes wide in an attempt to keep the tears from overflowing.


"I didn't do her any harm," the man drawled back with a frown. "I'm quite certain I wasn’t the first young lad that had his hand up her skirt and I didn't touch anything important or nothing."


Margaret just blinked slowly and ignored him. What made her seem like such a loose girl? She was dressed as every other girl in America. Was it the Irish?

 

[Syrrus]

The trip back to London has been a long one. Jack had returned to his usual job as a chimney sweep, living quite pleasantly with money to spare after their little adventure, money he ended up spending on crushes and fast horses.


Victor was sadly not enjoying his time as much, spending his days dreading the upcoming meeting with his beloved family. He had already punctured his arm multiple times before the ride to the Edwards mansion and even though he admitted tl her and himself that he did love Margaret he had started to get very cold feet.


"I will be hanged flr this I am certain, and you will be left a widow. Atleast you will never have to return to tgat pub." Edwards rambled on as the carriage came to a halt on tge gravel road to tge beautiful white house that still belonged to his grandmother, who refused to have the courtesy to die.


The carriage door opened up ans Victor placed his hat upon his head, leaving tge sunglasses upon his nose as he stepped outside, reaching out for his wife to bd to aid her down onto the ground.

 

[GreyZone]

"Perhaps we should have gotten hitched before coming to meet the,"old bat, "lady again," Margaret murmured to her betrothed, taking his hand as she stepped out of the carriage. It was marvelous, to be clean again. To wear a nice dress with a bustle and a slip, to have a clean corset and proper shoes, her hair piled as it should be on her head topped with a hat. She felt like a person again, a woman. The Americas had been exciting, but she had missed life in London.


Although inexperienced, Margaret did understand Mr. Edwards to some point and sensed his hesitancy. It had seemed romantic, daring, exciting—their betrothal in the other continent—but in the harsh streets of London it was an entirely different monster. Her younger sister Jane had blossomed into a lady somehow, looking so fiercely like their mother that Margaret could not hug her. Somehow, she had entertained the thought that she would return to a baby, that her family would not need her and would beg her to come back to them instead of getting married.


She sensed her age. She sensed her age like a dark shroud draped over her shoulders, constantly kicking her in the backs of her knees. Although she was only twenty, she felt as old as Victor’s grandmother. Margaret knew her mother would have been a bride of a few years, and if Mr. Edwards really did give up and leave her as she had forced herself to be prepared for, people would start to believe that she was unworthy of a husband for whatever secret reason.


“It will be alright,” she whispered to him, hiding her (finally) gloved again hand in the crook of his elbow. She wished she could say that she loved him but knew that she could not.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor's eyes darted down at his bride, his heart trembling within his chest. He was not a coward, but he was extremely lazy and situations like this was sure to bring him trouble with little result. He would have to argue for his sake, to defend his honor against the women who always managed to put him down. He patted her hand gently with his own and walked steadily, to his own surprise, towards the door and his oldest sister who stood there waiting.


Lucille looked no different from the first day she had met Margaret. She was tall, proper and dressed in dark clothes. Her hair was tied up and she hid her shoulders and ankles like a woman would. She seemed rather unimpressed by the two, with her hands tied together. "I am glad you arrived so swiftly. I assume your trip was exhausting or you would have seen us sooner."


Victor's eyes fell upon his feet. "I apologize for the inconvenience."


"Did you find what you were looking for? Godly inspiration and what not." his sister murmured, her painted lips curling upwards into a rather cruel but teasing grin. Victor nodded sheepishly, though he would hardly explain that what he had found in the new world was a wife. "I see that you brought the bar maid." Lucille added, shortly and gave Margaret a long but dull stare. "Come on in, your sisters are waiting and we have a guest who has been dying to meet you."


"A guest?" Victor's eyes widened slightly. He hoped to God that it was not his father who she gave the title.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret's eyebrows raised a little bit at his sister's acknowledgement. Could she ever escape the barmaid jab? "It is good to see you again, madam," she greeted in a cold voice, her green eyes crackling for a moment.


She had gone more than out of her way to make sure she appeared acceptable, spent every last penny she had stuffed into her mattress, where she kept the tips that were tucked into her bodice while working as if she was a prostitute. Of course she had refused any handouts from Victor as he was not responsible for yet, and she would be damned if this woman insulted what she had gone through such lengths to get.


When they stepped inside, a woman with dark hair piled fashionably ontop of her head, skin as white and clear as ivory, and light eyes that quickly took them in, rose. Diana Johnson was the youngest daughter of a wealthy man, his estate secured by four sons ahead of her. She was a pet to her family, beautiful and soft-mannered and an altogether fool. "Mr. Edwards, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," she greeted him, despite the fact that she was confused by the redhead on his arm.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor stood there dumbfounded. There was a woman there, not as a guest to his sister or grandmother but for himself. She was his guest adn he already knew why. There was only onw reason his sister would introduce him to a female.


Mister Edwards bowed his head carefully, and removed his arm from Margaret to greet the stranger properly, removing his hat and bowing proudly. "Pleasure is all mine ma'am. Allow me to introduce Margaret my br--"


He was then interrupted by his sister who stared him down. "Come inside, brother dear. Lets get you two talking." She gestured aggressively and Victor hurried upnthe stairs.

 

[GreyZone]

Margaret's eyes widened in panic and she knew perfectly well what was happening. There was no way that he had contacted his family from the Americas, causing them to panic and line this woman up, right? She couldn't see Victor doing it but it was an engagement...


Diana dropped into a low, well-executed curtsy before him, and Margaret's heart leapt to her throat. Here was his elegant lady, introducing herself, where she had offered him a drink with her bosom and arms exposed like a harlot when she met Victor.


"I trust that you had a safe journey," Diana remarked to him softly, remaining standing as long as he did.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor had entered the drawing room rather nervously and came to sit down on the couch with his hat in his lap. He wasn't certain of what to do, it all seemed to be a drugged up nightmare and he was waiting for a rude awakening. "I-- Yes, quite pleasant, quite pleasant." the nobleman said, clearing his throat and giving the lady a gentle smile. "I was not expecting a lady such as yourself to be here waiting, I had not been given any news of the sort."


Lucille sat down opposite her brother, she had called a servant in and asked for some tea and biscuits. They were going to be there for a while. "Diana is a well educated lady, someone I believe you would appreciate Victor dear. Diana, Victor is a... poet you see." Lucille snickered as if it was the most bizarre thing anyone would wish to be. "And he plays the piano quite beautifully."

 

[GreyZone]

Diana offered him a placid smile and nodded a little. "That is good to hear, sir." She made a funny little face at the news of him being a poet--what kind of work was that? Nothing good. It sounded a bit silly to her. "I have played the piano since childhood, and was involved in the girl's choir at my finishing school."


Finishing school? Girl's choir? Margaret's cheeks flushed as she thought back to those awful sessions where he had to teach her to read, all those hours playing C scales and memorizing the alphabet.


Despite a lack of invitation, Margaret slowly sat herself down beside him. She wasn't about to surrender everything she had arrived for for four years simply because of one afternoon and his bitter family.

 

[Syrrus]

Victor could not help but feel out of place and nervous. His heart was beating hard in his chest and he could have swore the room had gone a lot hotter. "That is- very impressive, ma'am." Victor said, thought it was more the lack of anything else than complete honesty.


"Victor plays the Violin as well, and I believe he can becoma a quite famous auther. All he need is the right push." Lucille took a cup of the from the table where the servant had put it. "Diana's father has offered her hand, Victor. It is a pleasant honour and a good match." The sister sipped the tea as Victor's face grew pale.


"I have already offered--" Victor began to protest, interrupted by the olderly lady, who looked even more lika bloodsucking monster than she ever had done. "Victor. Talk sense boy." She hit him over the back of the head with her cane. "Ah... I see that you brought your girl servant. You could have warned us." His grandmother turned her nose up in distaste. "It was quite the theater you played last time you where here, girl. Pretending to be wedd to my grandson. It is a good thing that Lord Johnson reaserched the lie you portraited or my lineage would have gone even further down the gutter."

 

[GreyZone]

"An author?" Diana wished that he was pursing a more respectable career, but she just lifted the corners of her lips in a pleasant, agreeable smile because that is what she always did.


Margaret's hands tightened in her lap, her heart beginning to throb up in her throat. "I am no servant, madam," she responded quietly. "Please, allow Mr. Edwards to speak to you."


What would she do if this vulture in velvet stole her fiancé from her? Where would she turn after all of those years exhausting herself over him?

 

[Syrrus]

His grandmother placed both her clawlike hands over her cane and waited patiently as Victor shuffled uncomfortable in his seat. It was not easy for him, a man who feared women to sit between four of them. "I asked Margaret for her hand, in the new world." He explained and the older lady gasped and pretended to faint.


Lucille placed her cup down and put her hands in her lap. "I see." She said, staring her brother down. "But as my brother, the only man in our family, I will advice... no. I will take the responsibility to make you change your mind. You know all to well how important your marriage is. Clearly Margaret, as a lady will understand."