"Thank you, Gelding," she replies calmly. Unfortunately, both of them have seen more violence than needed in their lives. Scarlet when she lived down among the barbaric tribes and their frequent raids upon each other. Later with the battles of the uprising in Egypt her father dealt with, and as a teenager, her own experiences with the cult that attacked her personally. Still, she is disturbed by the pure nature of the crime.
" Mr. Bryant, I thank you for your concern. It is a welcomed relief in this affair. Your advice, naturally I will heed, but the doctor has been our family doctor for many years. He's helped me understand many of the texts I've read concerning the healing arts and I do trust him. However, considering the evening's turn of events, I think that this poor fellow's aid is more important than my own reputation and that is excusable. I cannot say the same for the one who did this to him."
With that, she's said her peace and commits herself to helping. With the servants bringing her hot water and cloths, she asks them to retrieve a shirt of her fathers from his old room and bring it for the man. She herself, in all her fine clothing is about to clean the man's wounds. She goes to Lucia, knowing she has some expertise in the matters at hand.
"It is so good to see you again, Miss Wriothesly," she states, calling her by her respectable, high class name rather than as a servant by using her Christian name, Lucia. An act that usually is done for those of poor upbringing or servanthood and perhaps what she has been called recently by many given her position in life. To Scarlet, even if the events were true concerning Lucia, Scarlet was no better in her own sins in her mind. Who was she to judge someone of the fellow sex so violently? "I was curious if you'd help me clean his face a bit whilst he is unconscious. It perhaps will help the doctor to work cleaner and more safely when he arrives."
In the fogless light of the foyer, those gathered can see that Mister Bryant is a handsome man with hazel eyes, well-coiffed chestnut hair, and pleasant features. He immediately gives the impression of being a friendly man, despite seeming as if he hadn't got quite enough sleep last night. He stands nearly six feet tall with a lean, athletic build and wears a fashionable brown suit with all the trappings of a well dressed gentleman.
A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barrister.
”Actually, Jakob,” John politely corrects the barkeep, ”it’s Mister Bryant. Barrister is my profession. If you--any of you--find yourself in trouble over tonight’s events, you may call upon me for legal advice or representation, but…uh...perhaps don’t mention to the authorities that I was with you for them... it would be difficult to help you if I were in custody as well.”
Mr. Bryant, I thank you for your concern...However, considering the evening's turn of events, I think that this poor fellow's aid is more important than my own reputation and that is excusable. I cannot say the same for the one who did this to him.
”Very good,” the barrister answers with a nod and a concerned smile. ”I’m not sure it was one person who did this though... judging from his attire, and what I believe is the faint smell of spirits on him, I’d guess he was at a festhall this evening. Of course it is possible that one person might have laid in wait and sprung upon him when he left, inflicting these monstrous injuries, but it seems more likely to me that it was more than one… someone to lure him away to a place where nobody would see what was happening, perhaps a beautiful woman; another to remove his eyes without killing him, that would require some degree of precision, perhaps a doctor or butcher; and a third, I suspect, to either restrain him or to carry his unconscious body, a strong man. Check his neck for a small puncture. If a doctor, or someone with some medical knowledge, was involved they may have injected him with something to render him unconscious.”
A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barrister.”Actually, Jakob,” John politely corrects the barkeep, ”it’s Mister Bryant. Barrister is my profession. If you--any of you--find yourself in trouble over tonight’s events, you may call upon me for legal advice or representation, but…uh...perhaps don’t mention to the authorities that I was with you for them... it would be difficult to help you if I were in custody as well.”
Jakob looks at the gentleman curiously. Remember, Jakob, these people don't know you that well, he thinks to himself so he mentally shrugs it off and just nods. "Won't say a word, mate," he reassures him as he takes another drink.
It wouldn't take Maisy or the other cooks long to fan up the flames of the stove if they weren't already. Often times on a night out, they would offer her something warm to drink on her return. Shortly after thinking this, the door to the kitchen opens and the rushing of feet come. First, one of the servants clearing the way, while one of the cooks brings hot water in a pot and a cloth to set it on.
"Just over here, Gessur," she commands in a kind tone. Everyone in her household except the youngest of maids likely recalled having to bring hot water for the last time there were people wounded in her home, including Scarlet herself.
To John, she replies, "I think you may be correct. I couldn't see how one person could do this to a man with his faculties and without resistance."
She will sit on the E.W. Godwin hand-crafted coffee table () just opposite to the couch. Her hand would hover over the man's empty sockets to spare any of the nearby staff from seeing the evil deed until they once again moved away. There she will start to soak possible tools that the doctor may wish to use to better clear the man's eyes and clean his injuries. In the meanwhile, she will start to lightly search for a puncture mark on the man. At the same time, she tries to process the exact time that the carriage should arrive to pick up the doctor, how much logical time it would take him to get ready, and then how long over the fast pace it should take them to get back.
"Although ghastly, could one of you bring one of those lamps over, please? We will need more light here."
"I do hope mother refuses to come down. She would ask me what got into my mind doing this in such a fancy dress."
If Gelding returns, she will ask him to help assist her and Lucia (), as he is a man with infinite qualities and wound treatment being one of them, she could use his help to clean the man up.
"It is so good to see you again, Miss Wriothesly," she states, calling her by her respectable, high class name rather than as a servant by using her Christian name, Lucia. An act that usually is done for those of poor upbringing or servanthood and perhaps what she has been called recently by many given her position in life. To Scarlet, even if the events were true concerning Lucia, Scarlet was no better in her own sins in her mind. Who was she to judge someone of the fellow sex so violently? "I was curious if you'd help me clean his face a bit whilst he is unconscious. It perhaps will help the doctor to work cleaner and more safely when he arrives."
There is a slightly awkward pause for a moment before Lucia replies. When she does so, she is once again grateful that she put on her formal attire this evening, rather than the workaday clothing that she wears for her travails at the mission. It allows her to give Scarlet the formal curtsey that is her due. "It is good to see you again, Lady Grey - although this is, alas, an unhappy occasion that we should so meet again."
She does her best not to remember the embarassment she felt when Scarlet - through the best of intentions - had tracked her down to the East End and come to visit her. It was as though a shipwreck victim, stranded on a desert island, had just got used to her new circumstances only to be visited briefly by someone who had their own means of transport that she was not able to board. The feeling of watching the noblewoman stride away, off to the life that Lucia was now excluded from, had raised some deeply uncharitable - unChristian - feelings within her own soul.
She mentally does her best to purge them. Scarlet meant well. It is not her fault I no longer have a place in this society. That's all my own doing. Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall. I need to look to my own faults.
The moment passes, and she gives Scarlet a genuine, if slightly rueful, smile. "I will happily aid you in doing what we can for our guest before the doctor arrives."
After the initial welcome to the residence, William melts into the shadows. He feels so out of place; of course, anywhere there were people he felt out of place. Careful not to touch any of the Grey family possessions on display, he stands against the wall examining this group brought together by a singular tragedy.
Many seemed to know each other, the young elite of London often had tendrils connecting them everywhere. But then there was...Peter? His cousin just happened to work in this very house. What were the chances? It seemed that he and the cockney fellow were the only ones left out on the fringe.
Perhaps it was simply coincidence, perhaps not.
While the women cleaned the unconscious man's face, William stepped forward and began gently checking the man's clothes and pockets. "We may be able to figure out what happened to this poor wretch if we know more about him. Maybe we can find an address or a daily schedule if he is a banker or the like."
As the burly man Jakob asks his questions of you, you find yourself a bit overwhelmed by the strange twist of events and move to sit down as you speak. As you do, with a shock you realize your hand has come to rest on an aged, well worn text resting on the table next to the chair. You cringe, preparing for the inevitable wave of horror and twisted echoes of a forbidden past, and find… only love and joy. You catch images of a man in his older years, still quite distinguished, sitting in a chair, reading from the text to a young girl. There is a family resemblance, but are quite separated in years. The girl looks up with the eyes reserved for one’s personal hero, and as she says something incoherent, you see the older man chuckle with laughter. Slipping back into the present moment without the sense of dread you have become so used to, you glance down at the book, you are surprised by the faded title, ’On the Nature and Etiquette of an Officer’. Quite the strange text to be shared with a young girl?
As you call your cousin's name, Abigail turns with more than a look of surprise on her face. The two of you move toward each other and offer a heartfelt hug. ”Peter!? Your letters said you were coming, but I was not quite sure when. I see you've made it to the city all right, I trust you found your way to the boarding house I arranged for? It is good to see you, But how... did you come to be in the company of Lady Grey?”
You try to work out in your head how long it will take your driver to get to the doctor's office and fetch him back, but in all the confusion your mind wanders far, and you get little clear answer. Sure, he lives relatively close, but would he be awake? Or could he be out in the city somewhere? If asleep, how long would it take to arouse him? Your initial question leads you to only more, rather than answers. As you work with Lady Wroithesly to clean the wounds on the engine man's face, your inspections for some kind of needle or small wound lead to a rather different discovery. There's an odor on the man's breath, something reminiscent of sweet baking spices. Your mind recalls a memory from years past - the scent of laudanum that Gelding used to use to ease his wounds following his injury. But this smell is far more potent….
Descending into one of the subtle trance rhythms you learned in those forgotten days, you begin to vocalize a soft, wordless tune as you clean the wounds on the man’s face. It is at the same time both soothing and haunting, and for those hearing Lucia’s tune, it calls up an echo of melancholy from the past. The meaning and nature of it are lost to you, and yet the rote memorization practiced in a time past calls it back to your lips flawlessly. The man, though unconscious, had been flinching and cringing, letting out an occasional cry or gasp of anguish. As your touch eases the tension on his face, the sounds seem to bring some grace to his mind, and the tremors subside.
Perception an investigation of the man’s effects finds a gold pocket watch engraved with the initials ‘RCW’. Looking further, you find a wallet within his coat, still intact holding several sizable bank notes, and four matching business cards, for ‘Richard Charles Wainwright, chief of staff, Honourable Edward Pickersgill MP’, with an address for an office in Bethnal Green.
Knowledge The young man is quite handsome and distinguished of appearance. You recall his last name is Wainwright, and he is a business partner and confidante of the Liberal (some with say radical) MP Edward Pickersgill of Bethnal Green.
After you have all been gathered for some time, the petite woman of eastern descent reenters the room and whispers something in a foreign tongue to Lady Grey.
”Lady Grey, your mother is most troubled by the presence of so many strangers in her residence at the late hour, and all the more concerned that there are so many bachelors among them. She reminded you of your need to maintain a proper civil appearance, that you still have not been wed and are getting on in your years. You already carry yourself far too much like a man, bringing disgrace to your name now would do you no good. To that end she wants whatever this matter is resolved, and will speak with you in the morn.”
It feels like ages but in actuality has only been perhaps thirty minutes when the clock sounds eleven times, noting the late hour. As the final chime strikes, the front door swings open in the foyer beyond. The Indian coachman reenters, followed by a hastily garbed physician of middling years. As he comes into the sitting room and approaches the unconscious man on the couch, he draws out spectacles to rest on the bridge of his nose. Brushing the ladies back a bit as he approaches, he seems more than a bit flustered by the horror before him. ”Lady Grey, I do apologize for my tardy arrival. Your man said you found this unfortunate on the streets outside, and brought him here to seek my aid. Did you, or any of you, see what travesty befell him?” As he speaks, be pulls out several implements and begins to evaluate his new patient.
Lucia would be welcomed in the proper fashion, "Yes...unfortunate indeed, Miss Wriothesly" she replies to her friend, using her proper name instead of Lucia, as one would do for a servant. All throughout her visit to her friend, she never treated her as lesser because of her situation or the rumors surrounding her name.
The two women set in on the man, cleaning his face. As Lucia sings her tune, Scarlet recalls the loving interactions she shared with her father in this very room while growing up. He used to hum to her military songs and then would burst out with the words here and there to add pomp to the song. A sad smile passes over her lips at such thoughts.
She searches the man, and being so close, she becomes attentive to his issue. Just then, the smile put there by Lucia fades as the servant whispers into her ear. "What would she have me do, leave him to die? I am not tempting these bachelors in any way, shape, or form! She frustrates me so much sometimes..." Scarlet will maintain her composure, although the more attentive could tell she is bothered by what she hears simply by the fact she no longer looks at peace. She nods to the eastern woman as she fades back away from her.
When the doctor enters at the 11th hour, she will stand and move away with Lucia. "You are too good, sir. Thank you for your haste. Yes, we found him outside, delirious, and in shock. We've managed to stop his bleeding and clean him up some, but no sir, none of us here who were present saw what happened to him. Smell his breath though. I am sure it is strong hints of laudanum? Or...something more potent?" She leaves the conclusions to him, as she merely has had some lessons under him in the past. She is no skilled physician.
Peter steps back to take in his cousin.
[i]She's changed. But of course she has! It's been donkey's years![/ooc]
"For sure, Abigail, I've had a stay at Widow Bowen's. I met Lady Grey by chance - her and these others. We stumbled across a man in distress and all combined efforts to aid him."
********
When the doctor speaks, Peter replies:
"I did not. Harm had struck the poor devil before I had clapped eyes on him."
Jakob remains silent as he watches events unfold before him. But when the doctor arrives he downs the rest of his drink and sets his empty glass upon the table. He then moves over near the wounded man and the doctor to get a better view of what's going on.
In response to the doctor's question, "Sure didn't, doc. This is how we found him. Except he was walking and moaning something about 'eyes'. But it wasn't until we got closer and into the light before we realized that he actually didn't have any."
Lucia has nothing to add to any explanation the others might offer. She instead busies herself with trying to discover his identity.
After carefully going through his possessions, she speaks up. "It looks like this man is Richard Charles Wainwright, chief of staff to the Honourable Edward Pickersgill - the liberal-radical MP. The card here says the office is in Bethnal Green. Perhaps we should make our way there to see if anything is amiss? I doubt we can add much to what the doctor is doing here."
Searching through Mr. Wainwright's effects with Lucia, William nods and turns to the gathered. "Might I suggest we withdraw to give the doctor room to work? Perhaps away from this tragedy we can see our way forward, whether separate or together. Is there a removed place we might speak, Lady Grey?"
As he moves to leave the sitting area, William pauses beside Jakob. "I believe you asked me a question that I was rude enough to ignore. My apologies. In short, I am not one accustomed to travel, friend. Four walls are far safer in my view than an open sky." He motions back toward Wainwright's bloody visage. "This is what you risk when you open your front door."
After carefully going through his possessions, she speaks up. "It looks like this man is Richard Charles Wainwright, chief of staff to the Honourable Edward Pickersgill - the liberal-radical MP. The card here says the office is in Bethnal Green. Perhaps we should make our way there to see if anything is amiss? I doubt we can add much to what the doctor is doing here."
Nodding, "That sounds like a grand idea to me. But should we go now or wait until the morning?"
As he moves to leave the sitting area, William pauses beside Jakob. "I believe you asked me a question that I was rude enough to ignore. My apologies. In short, I am not one accustomed to travel, friend. Four walls are far safer in my view than an open sky." He motions back toward Wainwright's bloody visage. "This is what you risk when you open your front door."
Waving it off, "Not at all, mate, think nothing of it. I just overheard you talking to Miss Scarlet about how it's been a few years since you've last been to the city here. I just assumed it was because you traveled." Jakob's mind then revisits William's last statement: 'This is what you risk when you open your front door' "Yeah," he absentmindedly mutters to himself solemnly, appearing lost in thought. Not a moment later he shakes himself from his reverie. "Um, yeah, you're right about that, mate. Can't trust anybody these days seems."
She should have never given in, and now potentially will be talked of. If not careful, she too could be thought of as others who have fallen to ridicule, however, she does not agree that she is in disgrace for helping her fellow man, nor was her behavior wild. What others will say will come as a result of what is done and heard this evening but she recalls her lessons of etiquette that stated: Where the manners and care indicate amiable, moral qualities and gentle and benignant spirit, this will atone for any lesser imperfections which are marked.
She could see it now. The papers writing once more about her as if she were more than she was, as they did when she apprehended and brought low the cultists. "'Lady' Grey risks life and limb to save injured aristocrat! A true woman according to the Queen! Read the harrowing tale of midnight madness on-page.4" For a modest and humble woman, it bothered her greatly but pleased the papers to write of a woman as charming as her to be more than what she was.
Although it is an impromptu visit for those gathered, she tries her best to remain a host and to not let anyone sit in silence. They knew who the mystery man was thanks to Lucia and William sorting through his things.
"Yes, right this way, Mr. Westford," she will answer him and those others who wish to discuss this.
She will leave the doctor in the care of Gelding and will lead the others into the parlor adjacent to the great room. She would kindly linger to wait for Peter and Abigail to finish their greetings before following the others. Once they were all together, she addresses the issue at hand.
"As some of you know, public opinion is something we should all be concerned about." They would know, of course, she is referring to her own womanly virtue. "However, if we do have a desire to look into this along with the police...to avenge such a dastardly act...that public opinion should be considered." How could they all work together toward this common goal and yet not destroy their names, if not already destroyed?
"It is my suggestion that the newspapers be involved. They can incite public demand and outcry for our involvement. Even the queen has been seen requesting aid from her citizenry in some cases such as with Jack the Ripper where the efficiency of detective agencies has failed. I believe with my past tied to exposing espionage and cultists, they will approach me. I then can do the queen's service and remain pure in the sight of the populace, as could each of you. Particularly since we were first to see this event. I believe, if this is the case, no reproach will be set upon any of us for helping this man, or helping to find this culprit. What do you all say?"
Each seemed to want to be involved rather than separate from the event, or else she wouldn't have even suggested such an outlandish idea.
The doctor seems to listen intently to your words even as his eyes are locked on the wounds the man has suffered. As you watch he checks several vital signs and examines the wound to the man's temple, as well as his gaping sockets. A genuine look of surprise comes over his face. "Yes, Lady Grey, laudanum, but mixed with a higher concentration of opium no doubt. Thought he does not show any signs of being a habitual user."
After a further pause while examining the patient, he continues, "You said you found this man out in the street like this, and with fresh blood upon his cheeks? I confess, I am surprised, the sockets definitely show signs of trauma, but by my examination, I would have guessed it occurred a week ago. The wounds within have already scabbed and show progressive signs of healing. Even the blow to his temple does not look fresh, though not quite so recovered as his loss of vision. Not that his vision will recover, but rather the trauma to the sockets. Sorry, I feel like I am not making sense, but this is most irregular, you see. Nor does he seem overly afflicted by the pain that should be coursing through his body right now from all this trauma if it happened so recently. What I do know is this was done intentionally, and it looks like a scalpel was used, at least briefly, to widen the eye lids, allowing easier removal. As for now, this patient must rest, I can do little else for him."
-----
Abigail looks at her cousin, "Oh Peter, always coming to aid those in need. It's been your way since you were a wee lad. Well, the lady has duties of me, I must attend to them to assist, but we will talk more soon!" With a quick hug, she heads up the stairs.
-----
Gathering in the parlor, you are shortly joined by a pair of Lady Grey' serving staff, bearing platters with several delectable offerings to be enjoyed. While not a traditional spread, it is diverse in nature and includes several items that might be offered at tea as well as the cold carvings of an evening's roast.
"We shall talk later, Abigail. God bless.", Peter replies to his departing cousin.
******
Peter hears Lady Grey's comments about the Queen asking for aid and does not react much at all. But he nods grimly at talk of Jack the Ripper.
"Word of that blood-splattered lunatic reached far and wide, Lady Grey. I agree that we should find many hands to make lighter work of this new butcher."
He realies his hunger and seeks out choice meats to snack upon and a cup of tea to wash them down.
William waits grimly through Lady Grey's proposition thinking over what avenues would be readily available to them. As she closes he holds up a hand as though he were one of his old students patiently trying to get the teacher's attention.
He shakes himself from this thought as he points out the real tragedy of Scarlet's idea. "Unfortunately, we have seen how that plays out. Despite all the notoriety and appeals, Jack has never been caught. The Yard is simply not prepared to handle men like him."
inexplicably healed? did I do that... usually the when the dark power stirs its less pleasant than that... although, there was that time with that poor girl's cat... I never touched the man, though; I touched the cat... is it even remotely possible that one of these people who did touch him have a similar power, or a vastly different power with a similar effect... perhaps in her travels Lady Grey learned a forbidden technique from Indian swamis, or maybe Peter secretly carries on the ancient traditions of the Druids who once roamed his homeland... or maybe this doctor had one too many before he turned in... whatever the case, we need to figure out what we're doing here, and I need to see if any of them know anything about that pin...
"Indeed," John answers William with a frown. "In fact, not only are they unprepared for shocking cases but one involving such a high profile person is more likely than not to be covered up, at least in part. They'll arrest a known troublemaker in short order and rush him through a trial so that the citizens of London can rest easy at night again." He makes it a point not to look in Miss Wriothesley's direction at all while discussing a cover up.
"Lady Grey, it is your home, your family name, and your reputation, so I'll leave the decision to you, but my professional advice to you as a barrister is to have him quietly dropped off at a hospital or charity, anonymously. Then you, or we, would have the freedom to look into the matter further on our own, if any are so inclined. If you make it public, the officials will do everything in their power to keep civilians' noses out of it and, mark my words, it will be 'solved' in short order. Help from outsiders would not be welcomed until or unless as many people show up eyeless as did dead at the Ripper's hand."
"Although... while we're on the topic of investigating... have any of you ever seen a symbol of a clenched fist within an intertwined triangle and circle? When we were on the bridge I thought I saw a silver pin with that symbol..."
Jakob looks curiously at the doctor. "I gotta say, doc, that really doesn't make any sense. If this happened a week ago this bloke is already dead. Period. I just don't get it." He scratches the back of his head in confusion. Unable to come up with any form of logical explanation, "Anyway, many thanks for all you've done, doc." He nods and makes his way into the other room with the others.
-----------------------
Jakob remains quiet as everyone speaks there thought on their current situation. He thinks on the matter a moment as to what to do. Eventually, he can only find himself shaking his head. "I've got to be honest, I really don't know which way to go here. But I will say this: I want to do everything in my power to find out who did this," he says, the resolve in his voice quite obvious. "As long as that's possible, I don't care who does or doesn't know."
------------------------
"Although... while we're on the topic of investigating... have any of you ever seen a symbol of a clenched fist within an intertwined triangle and circle? When we were on the bridge I thought I saw a silver pin with that symbol..."
"I've never seen anything like it, mate. Sorry."
Having been praying for the man since his arrival in the silence of her mind, Scarlet had an idea who did this but also having seen Peter cast his spell, she wondered at what she had seen.
To reply to the good doctor, she states, "This man was in shock he was so near to death when we met him, and to my experience with wounds you can attest. He was to meet the grim reaper this eve, which is why we called for you. Still, the Lord works in mysterious ways. One way or another, good doctor, he is recovering fine now." There was definitely a bit of mystery there. Although her eyes scan over briefly to Peter before looking back to the doctor. "Perhaps we should one day ask of our God what goodness he allowed to be bestowed upon this man and why he allowed such evil to happen to him? In any case, I'm glad he is okay. We shall not keep you from your rest any longer."
She will let Gessur or Gelding show him out when he was done cleaning up after himself and to arrange their accountant to pay him.
______________________________
She waited patiently, hearing each man speak. It was their opinions she would strongly consider, as she was raised by her father to know that they typically knew better the realm of public opinion more than she, but she also was not stupid and understood the power of the paper more than most. She did not receive hatred for her defeat of the cult, but rather praise among women, men, and some rumored even Queen Victoria herself.
Furthermore, she wanted to hear from Lucia, who had intimate knowledge of what destroyed her own life. Could Scarlet's proposed idea be successful? For some reason, she could not see John's idea of working. If she dropped the man off anonymously and was successful in doing so, she still would have no freedom to investigate without bringing embarrassment upon her name if she even made one slip-up; a near impossibility as her uncle and mother would be watching her. Lucia, having an overbearing father at times would probably understand this.
Lucia is slow to speak, but that doesn't mean she hasn't been listening intently.
She gives Scarlet a respectful nod of her head before she prepares to contradict her. "With respect, My Lady, I would counsel against publicity. Or rather, if these events must become public knowledge, and with such a horrific crime against such a public figure I cannot see how they can fail to be, I see no advantage in our involvement becoming more widely known." She gives a rueful smile. "My past, at least, is unlikely to withstand the scrutiny that Fleet Street can bring to bear, and I would greatly mislike to subject any of you to notoriety by association."
"My motives here however are not purely self-centred." At least, I hope not. "It strikes me that without official sanction, we can only hope to catch this perpetrator if that miscreant is unaware of our investigations. Trumpeting our involvement across the pages of the news would defeat that object entirely."
She coughs. "At least, in my opinion. I may have misjudged the matter, or another may have a persepctive I have missed."
"There is something deeply wrong in this city," Peter states.
"A man is stumbling around with his eyes removed and bleeding to death."
He pauses a moment then resolves himself to a course.
"The doctor's confusion is my doing. I channeled a surge of power into him to salve his wounds. I try not to draw attention to the fact I can do that, so I would appreciate all of your discretion on that, and if I may be so bold, your understanding on why I did not speak of it sooner."
"If we're to hunt the scut who did this to him by ourselves, so be it. I am in. I'm used to having to deal with the strange and occasionally the awful while I'm at it."
John's eyes go wide with surprise and he turns to stare at the Irishman for moment, unable to formulate any response.
good God... I know I just thought that, but I didn't really expect it to be true... should I tell him I can do things too... am I even the one doing them, though... what do I say, 'I have seen the things that dwell beyond time and space and will one day consume this whole universe, and now some taint of their unfathomable, dark power allows me rip memories from the minds of others and convince violent men to kill each other instead of me'... I'm not sure that would be very well received... perhaps I should wait until Lady Grey and the others react, to gauge their views on the matter, before making up my mind... of course, the longer I wait to say something the more awkward the revelation becomes... if I say nothing this evening I shall have to hide these abilities throughout the impending investigation, which, frankly, would be for the best, although I'm certain they'd come in handy...
The barrister walks silently over to the drink cart that was pointed out earlier, while he thinks. There he pours a rather full glass of scotch and drains it considerably faster than might be considered polite.
it has been a burden though, to carry this secret without telling a soul... I couldn't tell them everything... I couldn't tell any of them everything... but him, Peter, this strange foreigner, I could share some of it with him and at least he won't think me mad... cursed, dammed, perhaps, but not mad... do I dare... what would stop him from telling others... the fear I would share his secret, I suppose...
Turning back towards the strange healer, John mutters, "Tá cumhacht ann a chónaíonn ionamsa freisin. Ní thuigim i ndáiríre é, ach uair amháin thug sé deis dom cat cailín beag a leigheas... agus uaireanta eile lig sé dom rudaí eile a dhéanamh..."
After thinking on Lucia's comments, "Yeah that's probably a good idea. I can see how that, the less this killer knows the better it is for us. I'm for that."
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With utter confusion upon his face, Jakob just looks at Peter blankly. He then thinks on it a moment trying to digest what he just said. Did he just say what I thought he said? Is that even real? I don't... You know, I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Because you know what they say, the less you know, or at least pretend to not know, the better. Yeah I think that's the best way for me. He then simply responds, "Discretion on what, mate? I've no idea what you're talking about," he comments, shrugging.
Not too long after you retire to the parlour, the doctor walks in. Drying his hands from a fresh washing he turns towards Lady Grey but speaks for all to hear. "Lady, by my best estimates the man will survive, though what his life like after his ordeal remains to be seen. He is deep in sleep now, no doubt from the sheet exhaustion and trauma, and a little something I gave him to ease the pain. I still can't make sense of the details, perhaps he heals especially fast. I don't know. I will be by tomorrow to follow up with you on how you have proceeded from this point. As always, my discretion is assured. Good eve, Lady Grey." and with a nod he departs the room. Several moments later you hear the sound of the front door open, then close.
You do not recall anything that might match the symbol described.
Some time passes as you debate the options before you. There is a brief pause in the conversation when you all realize the house has become eerily silent. Just as your mind processes the lack of sound, you hear first one, then another, then several more slow unsteady footfalls. Stepping into the doorway is none other than the injured Mr. Wainwright. Though his face remains devoid of eyes, he is staring across the room, directly at Lady Wroithesly. In a calm, balanced voice, the wounded man speaks. "amidst the pain and the horror, I heard your voice. Like a light it the darkness, it called to me. I followed and it eased my mind. I hear the song still... Thank you... Are you an angel? Am I dead?."
Scarlet will curtsey to the doctor to bid him farewell. As per the doctor's orders, she will prepare a room for her eyeless guest to be visited in the morning and will obviously have to bear this burden a little while longer. As they have their discussion, having heard from each of them, Scarlet is seemingly outvoted, though it is no wonder. Before she responds, she allows the help to feed her guests that walked into the room. When they are done, she politely waves them away to continue in their private discussion.
As John would study her reaction, he would notice that there is initial shock at Peter's revelation, but it seems more the fact that he said anything at all than the mouth-opened gaze he bore. Peter's gifts, while not understood, were already seen and known to her to some degree that night John could assume. Scarlet, however, trains her eyes upon John. John, being nervous and drinking his drink swiftly did not go amiss, nor did Jakob's shock and disarmament of the topic. To be a good hostess and break the tension, she speaks out.
"I believe you are all right. I believe there is something wrong in this city, as Mr. Caffrey here has announced. I believe evil and terror has gripped us for far too long without someone to fight it and root it out. Terror breeds terror, and evil breeds evil. What we have witnessed tonight is the spawn of what we have endured so far as a city. It is connected and larger than us. Larger than our Queen's men can handle. Therefore, I'm in agreement. We should not go to the papers." Her speech mainly would resound on the subjects of recent events, talking about the acts of cults on the rise as well as the terror of Jack the Ripper. "We all here have resolve, and we all have gifts that the good Lord has seen fit to bless us with, for one reason or another..." she voices, which is mostly directed to Peter, "...and I think each of us can use a rather large amount of discretion from one another."
She moves to stand near Lucia and is about to mention things further when she hears...nothing...nothing but soft thuds of footfalls nearby. Caution from past events such as this causes Scarlet to look around briefly, and her heart jumps as she sees Mr. Wainright ambling toward Lucia and her. Calming herself, with a hand upon her breast over her heart in shock, she moves to the side to allow him his clearly intended target. "I wonder if the doctor gave him something strong?"
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Jakob keeps to himself as Scarlet speaks. But when the wounded man finds his way to them, Jakob studies where he is looking and quickly moves over near to Lady Wroithesly and slightly in front. He then takes a defensive stance and readies himself for anything. "Let's be careful here, lot. I don't have a good feeling about this. How did he find us? Especially in a home he's never been in? I bloody didn't hear anything get knocked over. There's something wrong here and I'm not just talking about the man's eyes," he whispers to the others, just in case he could be wrong and not wanting to offend the man. "He's looking at you, Miss Lucia, so if you aren't comfortable with this just let me know and I can subdue him. Just say the word, whatever you need," he tells her while keeping his vision locked on the wounded man.
Nonplussed at Peter's revelation William joins John at the drinks cart.
When Mr. Wainwright appears in the doorway, William's tumbler clatters to the ground as he fumbles to get a hand on his cane. "Good God, man; how are you standing?" A familiar dread settles into his stomach, fear of what lurks in the night.
a light in the darkness... an angel... this man couldn't possibly have seen the countless, unblinking eyes or he would know how meaningless those comforts are... perhaps there was a crowd of observes when his eyes were removed and all his addled mind recalls is their watchful eyes in a darkened room...
John cautiously moves a little closer to the eyeless man- not close enough to touch him, or be touched by him, but close enough that if he must speak sternly to him his voice will be readily heard. "Miss Wriothesly," he says with considerably more composure than he showed in response to Peter's revelation, "I do believe Jakob is correct, on both counts. Please let us know how you'd like to proceed."
"He's looking at you, Miss Lucia, so if you aren't comfortable with this just let me know and I can subdue him. Just say the word, whatever you need," he tells her while keeping his vision locked on the wounded man.
Lucia gives Jakob a small nod. "I appreciate your concern, Master Jakob, but I don't believe he means harm - for now."
Aloud, she says to the injured man. "I am glad to have been of service, but I am - alas - no angel. The angel of mercy you should perhaps thank is your hostess, the Lady Scarlet, who has taken you into her home heedless of possible scandal, and has brought the services of a doctor to you - without which, I need not add, you most likely would not have lived through the night."
"Let me reassure you that you are quite alive. Now, would it be possible to ask you some questions? For example, can you still - against all probability - see? And do you have any memories of what happened to you before we found you witless and wandering by the Thames?"
Peter thinks for some moments in silence as he himself approaches the drink cart, giving Jakob a knowing nod at the large man's reply on discretion. He selects a solid whiskey - though the Scots' stuff looks good too! - pours a generous measure and sips it with some pleasure.
He turns to John and speaks:
"Is fear macánta tú. Ní déarfaidh mé tada faoi mura dteastaíonn uait mé. Is é mo chomhairle ná do bhronntanais a úsáid chun cabhrú le daoine eile aon uair is féidir leat."
"You're a honest man. I'll say nothing of it unless you want me to. My advice is to use your gifts to help others whenever you can."
When the blind man arrives, staring straight at Lady Wriothesly, Peter tightens his grip on his glass ever so slightly.
It cannot just be her voice, surely. How did he walk here!?
He keeps his mouth shut for now and allows the man to answer questions directed at him.
Jakob nods and relaxes just a bit, although, he remains near Lucia for 'just in case' purposes as she speaks to the man.
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The man stares emptily at Lady Wroithesly with a strange degree of certainty. "no, I arrived in agony, It felt as though a thousand needles have been shoved through my skull. The pain was so intense I lost my mind, my sanity. But then I heard your voice first a whisper, then growing steadily stronger. The song on its lips called to me and brought peace to my mind, brought me back from the depth. When I awoke I could hear it, and even now I hear it still, though as a fading echo, like something reaching out from the past. It is what led me to you here, in this room."
Mr Wainwright takes several more steps slowly forward. "no, lady, I cannot see. At first I thought it was some trauma to my eyes, but now I know the truth, they are gone. I don't remember much of my ordeal, but I recall them being torn from my face. My last sight, in the darkness, was all the eyes watching me. I was in some kind of chamber, on a platform or stage perhaps. There was a low, rhythmic drum beat. And the smell of lamp oil, I think." he pauses for several long moments, perhaps trying to recall something, but the absence of his eyes makes reading his expression most challenging. "Before it was all madness and pain I had been out with friends, enjoying a night of well earned revelry. But partway through, this haze and confusion took me. I was lost for a time, then the horror became."
It was somewhat sweet to hear Mr. Wainwright sing Lucia's praises. It was quite touching her singing to him earlier, and it was not her methodical cleaning or searching that restored him. Such is a lesson she takes to heart.
Hearing his story, she comes closer once more, not as afraid of him as in the initial shock and terror. Thank goodness the men all had her liquor under control.
"You are too kind Ms. Wriothesly," she will state with a small curtsy in thanks. Back to Mr. Wainwright, she will offer to him her hospitality.
"You have been through a terrible ordeal. We are very thankful you have recovered so well. I will see to it that you spend your time here until you are well. Rest here in safety and we are sure that the doctor will come again in the morning most like, so do not let your mind linger on such thoughts of evil. Those responsible for this travesty do not deserve even a portion of your thoughts. Think of that beautiful song Ms. Wriothesly sang, as we all here will make sure that such things are sorted and given to the proper authorities. Pray tell, sir, do you have loved ones that should be made known of you here? Can I send for some things of yours?"
ha... the eyes of a crowd in a darkened room... just as I thought... the only 'horrors' this man has seen are depraved people...
"Yes, yes, quite the ordeal," John says a bit more dismissively than he intended, "but before you completely cease to let your mind linger on what happened, where had you been reveling? And do you know anything about a pin with the symbol of a clenched fist within an intertwined triangle and circle?"
now that he's recovered from the trauma of his unexpected surgery we're going to have to allow him to speak with investigators, and his lucidity is going to complicate things... at least he'll be able to confirm for them that we had nothing to do with what happened to him...
Peter remains quiet.
At least we were able to help him. I assumed that his raving would not end so quickly or easily.
Jakob studies the man as he speaks. This is weird. I just don't understand this at all. Part of me thinks he should already be dead. Even with that... whatever that was that Peter said he did. Just odd. At a loss to understand it all, Jakob simply shakes his head at his thoughts. Hopefully he can answer the barrister's question. That would at least give us something to go on.
What is happening? Such strange occurrences. A man with his eyes torn out. Miraculous healing. This recovery and return to coherence even after the doctor's medicines. And now a room of...what, cultists? Villains in the dark, I expected, but this is something beyond.
More to himself than addressing Mr. Wainwright or the others, William muses aloud. "But if this happened indoors, how did he come to the bridge? We came from all directions so any carriage would have passed us on our way to aid him. How did he make it there without being noticed?"
Jakob turns his attention to William as he speaks. He then ponders the gentleman's question. That is a good question. I hadn't thought of that one. How did that bloke make it as far as he did without being noticed? This keeps getting stranger by the minute. Feels like we've been here for days, yet, it's only been a few hours. I'm beginning to wonder if this night is ever going to end. Or is it morning already? I've completely lost track of the time. The big guy rubs his eyes a moment with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand while taking a deep breath.
Lucia shudders at the man's mention of his ordeal. The partial recollections of horror, the haze and confusion - these are things she has experienced personally and had hoped never to be reminded of.
Yet these three abide: Faith, Hope, and Charity As a clergyman's daughter, she has had scripture drummed into her from an early age and some verses intrude unwontedly on occasion.
As the others talk, she realises she has momentarily tuned them out, and returns to the present with a start.
"I am sorry for your trauma. Truly I am. But you say you were out revelling with others - are they perhaps in the same peril?"
"But if this happened indoors, how did he come to the bridge? We came from all directions so any carriage would have passed us on our way to aid him. How did he make it there without being noticed?"
Lucia inclines her head towards the gentleman. "These are good questions, all. I had wondered the same thing."
As the questions come in one after another, Mr. Wainwright turns clumsily toward each voice, taking a careful step or two closer, as though the short change of distance might allow him to hear better. Stepping toward Lady Gray he receives her questions while absently stroking his chin. "I think I will remember the lady's song for years to come. Though, even now it fades to a distant memory. As for loved ones, no, my family is back in Coventry. But my employer should probably be notified - I serve a member of the House of Commons, the Honorable Edward Pickersgill. As for belongings, I have a flat in Bethnal Green, not far from my office, though I don't really know what I would need from there. Perhaps some fresh clothing?"
Turning unsteadily toward the barrister, John gets the awkward feel of someone staring past his shoulder... but with empty sockets. "I had met a few fellows at the Bachelor's Club for dinner and pints. That lead to attending a lecture on the reincarnation of the human soul, hosted by the metaphysicist Ibram Gould. Finally, we - " The man suddenly cringes in pain, clutching at the side of his head. After a brief moment, he shakes it off, then continues, "Sorry, where was I? Oh, yes. We went for a night out, at this new establishment, Cirque du Chuchoter. I started talking to these gentlemen, they were interested in supporting... Mr. Pickersgill's reelection... campaign..." His voice trails off and fades as he finishes the words. He looks up, as though trying to find something. "A pin... you say? Yes, I... I think I have... seen such. One of the men... I spoke with?"
Mr. Wainwright seems to shake suddenly, and he clutches at his head again. Turning back toward Lady Wriothesly, he grimaces at her. "Your song, miss, I fear it escapes me. My friends... I don't believe... were with me when everything... went dark. But at the end... before you found me -" and he turns toward Mr. Westford even as he drops to a knee, "I remember... hearing the sound of hooves... and wheels... on cobblestone. Then a strange silence... I couldn't even hear... my... own breath. Then I felt... the sharp pain... in...my head... as I hit... the ground."
Suddenly, Mr. Wainwright lets out a blood-curdling scream. As he does, a thin line of blood slips out of his right ear and traces down his cheek and to his neck. After wait feels like an eternity of the sound piercing your mind, his wind is spent and he collapses, unconscious to the ground. Two final words escape on borrowed lungs, "The eyes..."
"Very well, Mr. Wainright," she answers in a kind manner to him and curtseys only to feel awkward a moment later in the fact that he cannot see such action. Habits die hard.
She will wait as he answers the others, but as he cringes, she neglects her disgust over his empty eyes and moves to his side to help steady him. As he seems okay a moment later, she will return her hands to her sides.
"Ibram Gould. Cirque du Chuchoter. Reelection. Pickersgill," she contemplates to herself as she thinks on what she has heard in gossip, what she has learned of metaphysics and reincarnation of the human soul that Mr. Gould would teach on in specifics, the distance in time it would take for Mr. Wainwright to go from drinking at the Bachelor's Club to attend the lecture based on when it was listed to occur in the local papers. The standard lecture time it would have taken him to complete the lesson, and from there, to arrive where he was on the bridge. In essence, she is sculpting a map of recreation for Mr. Wainwright's evening in an instant in her sharpened mind.
As he seems to struggle, she will aid him down to his knee. "This is not good. I warned him to lay down."
Surely the servants come running at the scream, in particular Gelding, but there lies the man unconscious on the ground and Scarlet with a hand over her chest and the other over her mouth. As he finally speaks of the eyes, she feels terror creep over her...a demonic-based fear to her mind.
"The Lord is my shepherd..." she thinks to herself as she continues with the prayer.
John listens to the man’s words and begins to think on what they must mean, but at the tortured mention of ‘eyes’ his mind immediately flashes back to the unspeakable visions he works so hard to repress.
Peter winces at the man's scream but does not move, at least not yet.
When the scream has passed, he advances, strange syllables arising from his lips, though softly...
Peter is casting stabilise on the eyeless man.
Jakob listens intently to the man as he speaks and then finds himself cringing at the man's scream. When he falls, Jakob quickly moves over to him. "He's said that before. What does he mean by 'the eyes'? And is he dead?" he asks as he checks his pulse and to see if he still breathes.
Wainwright's sudden collapse does not surprise William. Of course the man was in no condition to be up and about. But that mention of eyes...it is chilling to say the least.
You have each in your life experienced a truly terrifying moment, and the distinct memory of which haunts the back recesses of your mind. The bloodcurdling scream that erupts from Mr. Wainwright before he collapses summons forth the emotions you felt in that moment, in their near entirety. Knees become weak, faces go pale, muscles tense in your necks, and a sense of horrific dread sinks into your gut.
The bell had just tolled twelve times to mark the end of Thursday when you found the man. You vaguely recall seeing a flyer for the lecture, it might have begun at 9:00 (often such public lectures and performances were conducted well after dark to add the the atmosphere). Even if only an hour long (and such things tended to at least reach 90 minutes if they were 'of worth'), that would leave only two hours for Mr. Wainwright and his companions to Cirque du Chuchoter, indulge in its revelry, get further intoxicated, meet these 'potential investors', lose consciousness, regain it in the described location, have his eyes removed, lose consciousness again, wake up in a carriage driving on cobblestone, then be tossed out on the bridge. Far too short a window of time in your opinion.
As Peter and Jakob shake off the terror, they both rush to the man's side. Peter cradles his head and lays his other hand on his chest, and a soft pulse of dim light swells around the hand. Being close to Mr. Wainwright, both men can discern this his chest still rises and falls with breath, though he is unresponsive to any attempt to rouse him.
After but a few more moments that feel like eternity, Gelding hurries into the room, holding a fire poker aloft as though ready to strike someone with it. He pulls up short, a stunned expression. "How did this man make it - " Abigail follows quickly behind, and at the sight of Mr. Wainwright's twisted, blind face on the ground, let's out a gasp and feints, though Gelding is quick to catch her.
"I cannot say for certain about all of what he's said. It doesn't seem logical to me, Jakob. The pieces don't fit," she answers him.
A soft smile spreads over her lips as an eternity later, Gelding arrives. Unaffected, she looks to her servants with patience, but unfortunately, she forgot to cover Mr. Wainwright's face as she did before. She had not expected Abigail to come running. Gelding holds Abigail in his arms and Scarlet lightly taps Peter on the shoulder.
"Mr. Caffrey, you should see to your cousin."
She would point to where Gelding is and how his cousin has fainted. Strangely enough, Scarlet seems to be made of sterner stuff. Although her face bears fear, shock, and compassion for her injured guest, she is not shaken by it and still as logical as ever. Perhaps such would be an endearing quality to the men surrounding her who were shaking in their boots?
If Mr. Caffrey goes, and Gelding is free, she commands in a soft voice, "Please ensure my mother and the other staff that all is well. We will be enduring some hardships this night and that is my fault."
She now will check on the health of Mr. Wainwright and seeing him breathing, she rests easier.
"Might you gentlemen help carry this good man upstairs to a guest room? I think he has seen and heard too much for a man in his condition."
Lucia flinches as memories she has tried to bury resurface. One hand involuntarily clutches at the rosary she keeps in a pocket of her dress (a Catholic superstition, no doubt, but the church of England didn't exactly prepare her for her confrontation with evil). She shakes her head rapidly to clear it before taking her hand away from the beads and forcing herself forwards.
"I will help." If her voice is shaking, she does her best to hide it.
She quickly tries to examine the fallen man.