Status: Completed
Surprise
...Never Saw It Coming
On a quiet Sunday morning, after a rather solemn service held at St. James Church, you found yourself walking along the cobblestone road of Piccadilly, which was damp from the morning's rain. You denied the service of your father's chaise and four for a leisurely stroll south toward St. James Park; a favorite activity you would normally go about taking part in during on Saturdays. However, the day before you had slept in late due to attending Almack's with your mother and sisters, dancing all night with several gentleman, especially the handsomely suave Sir Henry Worthington. A stroll, alone, through any park in the late afternoon is not at all proper for a lady of your age and upbringing, your mother always adamantly spoke.
While the sun attempted on several occasions to break out from behind the gloomy gray clouds which threatened to set forth yet another light rain, the birds still chirped in the trees and the squirrels still bounced along the green grass in search of acorns and other delightful treats.
As you continued on through the park, you caught sight of a handsome gentleman in his early thirties, walking toward you on the opposite side of the walking path. Like clockwork and in what could seemingly pass as slow motion, you both looked up at each other; eyes locking for a brief moment but feels more so like forever.
You smiled, politely, and he tipped his head to you in a nod of acknowledgement.
"Good morning, miss," he remarked.
"Good morning, sir," you replied softly.
And that was it. Nothing more was said and the two of you went your separate ways.
When the time came that you felt your walk was beginning to tire you out, you mde your way home, walking northwest, to your family's home on Park Lane.
* * *
"You were gone quite too long, young lady!" your mother had cried out to you when you had returned home earlier. "What if Lady Sefton had been riding by in her brougham, and saw you unaccompanied! She could've revoked your subscription to Almack's!"
Your response had been to calm her spirits, assure her that no such thing would ever transpire, and then roll your eyes behind her back as you ascended the stairs, heading toward your bedroom to change.
With the morning already come and gone, you spent the entire afternoon, writing a letter to your cousin in Kent, reading a book from the library and enjoying a cup of tea and some toast with your younger sister.
When dinner came, you were seated in the dining room with your family, your younger sisters gossiping endlessly about what who was wearing at Almack's the Friday night before, who danced with whom and for how many times, and how they couldn't wait for the next ball.
Your older sister sent you a look which you smiled at. Both thinking the same thing: that your youngers sisters were silly and frivolous.
Your father asked how your walk was and if you enjoyed the sermon at church, to which you replied that you did indeed enjoy your walk but felt the sermon could have been more uplifting. This garnered a few comments from your mother about the walk yet again.
Bless her heart, you do love your mother so, but sometimes she could be so tiring. You knew she meant well and wanted the best for you and your sisters, and when it came down to it, that was what mattered most to you.
After dinner came dessert, followed by tea again. You took to the parlor with your family to sit around and talk. Your younger sisters took turns on the pianoforte and singing a few arias while you and your older sister leaned into one another, talking amiably about this or that; commenting from time to time on your younger sisters' performances.
Eventually, night had fully descended, and with a yawn, you dismissed yourself to your bedroom for the night in hopes of sleep filled with pleasant dreams.
After changing into your nightgown and burshing your hair out, you climbed into your rather comfortable bed and pulled the blankets up to your chest, turning onto your side to blow out the candle; immersing the room in complete darkness.
Laying there for several minutes, letting your mind settle down and ease its way toward slumber, you couldn't help but listen to the rattle of the blustering wind, pelting more rain against the glass of your window.
With the crack of thunder and flash of lightning, you jumped and clung more tightly to the blankets, unaware of the extra presence in your room until you heard a floorboard creak.
You called out your oldest sister's name, assuming the storm was what frightened her as well and brought her to your bedroom.
You received no response.
Calling another sister's name, you were surprised when the second flash of lightning shown the outline of not one of your sister's but a man. And not any man.
The man from the park.
Letting out a gasp, you pushed your way up the bed and tried to cry out but found your voice had become lost.
Were you dreaming? Were you seeing things?
The gentleman stepped forward, closing in on your side of the bed and as your eyes glanced toward the door, you wondered if you'd be able to make a run for it. Your answer came when he had climbed up onto your bed and inched near your body; his expression void of emotion.
Like a living doll.
He reached one hand up and placed it against your face, leaning in to press his lips to yours.
Taking you by surprise, you were more surprised by the fact that you seemed to be taken with this stranger in your room who you'd never seen before this morning.
And while he kissed you, you never saw it coming.
* * *
The following morning, your mother and sisters were already up and downstairs for breakfast, while wondering if you were ever going to come down.
Your mother commented, in a harried tone, that perhaps your walk the morning before through the park in such damp weather had given way to a sudden fever.
It was your older sister, and best friend, however, who commented that you were always of the best of health and that she would come go upstairs to check on you.
Opening the door to your bedroom, your older sister stepped inside and nonchalantly let her eyes drift toward your bed...
...and let out a bloodcurtling scream.
When your remaining sisters, parents and servants came to see what was the matter, they were each met with the horrific sight of your lifeless body, tangled in the bedsheets which were soaked in your own blood...
...and missing your head.
Your father, completely and utterly grievous and horrified, stepped closer to inspect the scene, finding a single note pinned to the bloodied bosom of your nightgown, reading the words aloud.
FINI
While the sun attempted on several occasions to break out from behind the gloomy gray clouds which threatened to set forth yet another light rain, the birds still chirped in the trees and the squirrels still bounced along the green grass in search of acorns and other delightful treats.
As you continued on through the park, you caught sight of a handsome gentleman in his early thirties, walking toward you on the opposite side of the walking path. Like clockwork and in what could seemingly pass as slow motion, you both looked up at each other; eyes locking for a brief moment but feels more so like forever.
You smiled, politely, and he tipped his head to you in a nod of acknowledgement.
"Good morning, miss," he remarked.
"Good morning, sir," you replied softly.
And that was it. Nothing more was said and the two of you went your separate ways.
When the time came that you felt your walk was beginning to tire you out, you mde your way home, walking northwest, to your family's home on Park Lane.
* * *
"You were gone quite too long, young lady!" your mother had cried out to you when you had returned home earlier. "What if Lady Sefton had been riding by in her brougham, and saw you unaccompanied! She could've revoked your subscription to Almack's!"
Your response had been to calm her spirits, assure her that no such thing would ever transpire, and then roll your eyes behind her back as you ascended the stairs, heading toward your bedroom to change.
With the morning already come and gone, you spent the entire afternoon, writing a letter to your cousin in Kent, reading a book from the library and enjoying a cup of tea and some toast with your younger sister.
When dinner came, you were seated in the dining room with your family, your younger sisters gossiping endlessly about what who was wearing at Almack's the Friday night before, who danced with whom and for how many times, and how they couldn't wait for the next ball.
Your older sister sent you a look which you smiled at. Both thinking the same thing: that your youngers sisters were silly and frivolous.
Your father asked how your walk was and if you enjoyed the sermon at church, to which you replied that you did indeed enjoy your walk but felt the sermon could have been more uplifting. This garnered a few comments from your mother about the walk yet again.
Bless her heart, you do love your mother so, but sometimes she could be so tiring. You knew she meant well and wanted the best for you and your sisters, and when it came down to it, that was what mattered most to you.
After dinner came dessert, followed by tea again. You took to the parlor with your family to sit around and talk. Your younger sisters took turns on the pianoforte and singing a few arias while you and your older sister leaned into one another, talking amiably about this or that; commenting from time to time on your younger sisters' performances.
Eventually, night had fully descended, and with a yawn, you dismissed yourself to your bedroom for the night in hopes of sleep filled with pleasant dreams.
After changing into your nightgown and burshing your hair out, you climbed into your rather comfortable bed and pulled the blankets up to your chest, turning onto your side to blow out the candle; immersing the room in complete darkness.
Laying there for several minutes, letting your mind settle down and ease its way toward slumber, you couldn't help but listen to the rattle of the blustering wind, pelting more rain against the glass of your window.
With the crack of thunder and flash of lightning, you jumped and clung more tightly to the blankets, unaware of the extra presence in your room until you heard a floorboard creak.
You called out your oldest sister's name, assuming the storm was what frightened her as well and brought her to your bedroom.
You received no response.
Calling another sister's name, you were surprised when the second flash of lightning shown the outline of not one of your sister's but a man. And not any man.
The man from the park.
Letting out a gasp, you pushed your way up the bed and tried to cry out but found your voice had become lost.
Were you dreaming? Were you seeing things?
The gentleman stepped forward, closing in on your side of the bed and as your eyes glanced toward the door, you wondered if you'd be able to make a run for it. Your answer came when he had climbed up onto your bed and inched near your body; his expression void of emotion.
Like a living doll.
He reached one hand up and placed it against your face, leaning in to press his lips to yours.
Taking you by surprise, you were more surprised by the fact that you seemed to be taken with this stranger in your room who you'd never seen before this morning.
And while he kissed you, you never saw it coming.
* * *
The following morning, your mother and sisters were already up and downstairs for breakfast, while wondering if you were ever going to come down.
Your mother commented, in a harried tone, that perhaps your walk the morning before through the park in such damp weather had given way to a sudden fever.
It was your older sister, and best friend, however, who commented that you were always of the best of health and that she would come go upstairs to check on you.
Opening the door to your bedroom, your older sister stepped inside and nonchalantly let her eyes drift toward your bed...
...and let out a bloodcurtling scream.
When your remaining sisters, parents and servants came to see what was the matter, they were each met with the horrific sight of your lifeless body, tangled in the bedsheets which were soaked in your own blood...
...and missing your head.
Your father, completely and utterly grievous and horrified, stepped closer to inspect the scene, finding a single note pinned to the bloodied bosom of your nightgown, reading the words aloud.
FINI