Authors: B L Bierley
“What do you mean by that? Tell me you insolent witch, or
I’ll shoot you in the head!” Lord Westford shouted, incensed.
Knowing that she’d sealed her own fate, Bliss decided to
tell him the truth. It wouldn’t matter now. She’d changed the outcome with her
slip. Ironically she realized that she knew all along that she would make her
own fatal mistake.
A small sliver of hope remained. In her mind, her fate didn’t
look any different, better or worse, after this blunder. The relief of seeing
Eric still in her muddled future was all that kept her sane in those minutes.
Her true feelings for Eric buoyed her up. Her love for him,
which she knew was there from the beginning, kept her from shutting down
completely. He was her reason to have hope. If anyone would have a chance to
save her, it was Eric.
Bliss cleared her throat to stall for courage, and then she
admitted the rest of the truth in a hollow, empty voice.
“Your wife and son will leave England and flee to Italy to
avoid the association. Though, in fact, no one will blame them.”
Cocking the pistol and pointing it directly at her eyes, Westford
asked his next question in a deadly voice.
“Why?”
“You will be hanged for your crimes, Lord Westford. Lady
Celia will not want to remain in England and face the shame,” Bliss said
quietly.
She knew in that instant what he would do. The coin now
became the focus of her end. He yanked the red cloth swiftly from his pocket and
forced it into her mouth. Something heavy landed near the back of her tongue.
Hidden within the folds of the polishing rag was a silver
shilling, not rolling along a cobbled street, but lodged in wait inside her
mouth. Bliss knew the coin would suffocate her. A vision of it coming free of
the cloth and closing off her throat glared at her from her subconscious.
Bliss kept her breathing nasal and prayed the coin would not
be jostled despite her efforts when she soon entered the river. That was how
she saw herself dying before the coin became a major factor. A coin could do it
much quicker on land.
The smallest flag of hope in her mind kept her company for
the period of ranting lunacy that followed the gagging. Trust in Eric’s love
and loyalty to her memory was all that was left now.
With the ending altered in a sense of permanency she never
knew before, Bliss resigned herself to the outcome of her fate. Lord Westford
continued to rave and storm in the small underground room, declaring that she
was the one who clearly misunderstood the future.
It was seconds later that he made another rash decision. Bliss
waited as he snatched up a nearby dagger from the table and hacked the ropes
holding her to the chair but not the ones binding her hands to each other. She
felt him nick her in a spot on her bare arm and could feel blood dripping from the
superficial wound. He ordered her to stand.
“Get up, on your feet. We cannot stay here. Your lies are
just that, lies! It’s all lies! Now move!”
He forced her from the chair and to her feet, the momentum
nearly putting her flat on her face. She hit her knees and clamped her jaws
tightly around the cloth hoping to keep the coin held firm.
Taking her by her still-bound wrists, Lord Westford jerked
her to her feet once more. He didn’t bother to grab a candle for their exit. Bliss
found herself bumping into the walls in dull blindness as he urged her forward
toward the stairs.
Westford pushed past her when they reached the stairs and
grabbed her left arm, dragging her scrambling backwards behind him as he
ascended. At the top he opened the door the barest amount and checked that they
wouldn’t be seen.
Outside, the darkness disoriented him even though they
emerged from darkness. The moon provided a fair amount of light to cause their
eyes to need adjustment. Bliss stumbled along as he continued through the brush
and brambles of the woods, heading west of the museum and toward the Avon River.
They reached the shoreline in less than ten minutes. Lord
Westford turned Bliss forward so that she was facing him, the gag still clamped
tightly between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. He raised the gun back to
eye-level.
“Be quiet now, I need to think,” Lord Westford whispered
low.
Without realizing it, Bliss raised an eyebrow at him while
lowering her eyes pointedly at the red cloth sticking out between her lips. The
insolence of her silent reminder set him off.
Westford moved with swift anger in retaliation, backhanding
her with the butt of the pistol. Bliss felt the moment her mouth unclenched at
the instant the metal and wood of his weapon hit her cheekbone. The coin took
the force of the momentum and shot back into her throat.
Bliss began to struggle against her will, knowing that the
effort would only cost her precious seconds of air. Seeing her distress, Lord
Westford tore the cloth from her useless mouth. He struggled frantically to
discover what happened. He slapped her forcefully, shouting without concern for
her to stop moving.
Bliss fell to the cobbled river walk face first, rolled to
her side and dropped back to her chest to try and move the coin. She felt Lord
Westford trying to untie her hands. He pulled her up again and used the dagger
to cut the rope. Bliss’s hands moved swiftly to her mouth, pawing her tongue
and trying to take in air.
Lord Westford hit her again and again, but the coin was hopelessly
stuck. Bliss heard the sound of footsteps coming in their direction, but the
edges of her sight were already growing black leaving her unable to see who
approached.
Falling down in a heap, Bliss tried desperately to see a way
to survive. Knowing her remaining air was spent, she offered no further fight
as Lord Westford lifted her body and dumped it over his head and down into the
river.
Bliss felt the drift of her consciousness as her sight
became obscured by the murky water. Feebly trying to swim seemed a last ditch
effort, and she managed one pitiful stroke as her mind went black at last.
Eric, Bristol, April 1811
The realization of where Bliss might
be didn’t upset him as much as the sounds of a man’s voice screaming
obscenities from the nearby river walk. The guards at his heels heard the noise
at the same time and began running in his wake toward the river.
Eric searched the scene, frantic to find Bliss. He saw Lord
Westford there on the shore and thought first to ask his assistance. But as he
drew closer he saw the gun and the dagger held in the man’s fists.
Hoping the guards were drawing a similar conclusion to Lord
Westford’s involvement, Eric abandoned any thought of accosting the man. His
eyes scanned the edge of the river walk. He spied a body floating face down in
the water and lost everything he had in the world in seconds.
Without thinking, he bolted over the small iron fence and
leapt into the water. Eric swam straight for Bliss’s lifeless body. His mind
was numb as he reached her. Throwing her across his chest he pulled her in a
backwards crawl. His will to succeed in saving Bliss was the only force driving
him as he swam back toward the retaining wall.
With all his strength, Eric pulled Bliss up and heaved her
over his shoulder, scrambling to gain his footing until he reached the walk. The
guards apprehended Lord Westford and disarmed him, one on either arm. Surprisingly,
he didn’t put up an ounce of fight. One of the guards whispered low to the
approaching constable that the man had just murdered the heiress.
“NO!” Eric shouted. He held his ear to her chest and
listened. Her heart was beating! There was still time to save her. Eric began
to feel around her body for a wound. But quicker than he could have located it,
he realized with horror that Bliss hadn’t begun breathing.
He put her gently to the ground and tried to force air into
her lungs. No matter how hard he blew, the air wouldn’t go into her. Eric
opened her mouth and the light from a torch carried by one of the guards
glinted in the recesses of her tonsils. He saw in horror that a coin was
preventing his efforts.
Raising her once more, Eric placed her chest over his thigh
and began to pound on her back. The constable moved to stop him, thinking he
was abusing a dead woman in plain sight of witnesses.
Eric shouted for him to leave him alone. He wouldn’t give up
on her. Keeping a hand against her throat he could feel the flicker of her
pulse as her heart tried to keep its rhythm.
“No, Bliss, NO!” Eric fought back the tears as he hoisted
her limp body back to his shoulder, letting her ribs slam forcefully against
him. He wouldn’t give up.
This was Bliss, and he loved her! Duke’s daughter or not, he
would always be there for her. He would never doubt her again!
The coin needed to be forced out! He searched the recesses
of his medical training for a solution. Pounding on her back with fisted thumps
he pleaded with God and the devil to save her.
In a fit of despair, he yanked her bodily down from his
shoulder as he drew his knee up to catch her in the gut. The constable looking
on in utter dejection, Eric repeated the move once more.
This time as his thigh hit her abdomen, a grunt of forced
air expelled the coin. It rolled away as her body took in an involuntary breath
of life! Eric sank to the ground, cradling her in his lap, and willed her with
praise and pleas to do it again.
“Bliss, darling, breathe! Please, for me? Breathe again,
sweetheart. That’s it!” he exclaimed in sobbing relief as her body took over at
last, and the sounds of difficult respiration began again.
A wracking cough sputtered from within her chest as Bliss’s
eyes opened to see Eric’s face looking down at her. The constable, the guards
and a few spectators who emerged from the park were suddenly shouting for the
miracle man who brought the heiress back from the clutches of death itself!
Bliss smiled weakly at Eric.
“I knew you would find me. I knew you would remember
everything,” her voice was raspy from abuse. Deep bruises had begun to form on
her delicate cheekbones. But she was alive, and to Eric that was all that
mattered.
Bliss struggled to get upright, but he held her still. He
motioned for the nearest guard to summon a carriage for them.
“I’m so tired, Eric. But you must know you will be commended
for everything! Your future is brighter now than it’s ever been, dear,” said
Bliss in a low whisper. “Imagine how rich your life would be if you would do me
the honor and justice of listening to me.”
Eric chuckled at the words she said just before her eyes
slid closed and her body relaxed in the relieved posture of sleep.
The Osterburg’s, Pauline, Rex the
guard, Bristol, April 1811
Less than fifteen minutes after Dr.
Benchley left, the sound of a frantic knock at the door brought Mundy from his
supper. The pounding fist did nothing to hurry the butler as he made his way
with reserve to the front of the house.
Ozzie poked his head out in agitation as Mundy stepped to
the foyer and proceeded to unlatch the door. The moment it swung open, Pauline
rushed in without waiting and began shouting for Lord Osterburg.
“My Lord Osterburg! Lord Osterburg! Come quickly! Oh, gracious,
forgive my shouting, but it’s most urgent, my lord!” Pauline drew up short at
Ozzie’s grim face as he stepped fully into the foyer. Penelope hurried in from
the nearby sitting room to see what was going on.
“Lord Osterburg, is this maid employed by you or someone
from your household?” Rex asked holding tight to Pauline’s arm to prevent an
unnecessary scene. Ozzie seemed to realize that the man with her was a town
guard. Dread crept over him.
“Yes, she’s the ladies’ maid of my guest, Lady Bliss Penwood.
What has happened?” Ozzie demanded in a calm voice.
“My lord, she is gone! She sent me after ices, and when I
returned her shawl was draped over the bench where she told me she would wait
for me. I sat and waited for a while, thinking she might have met up with some
friend and took a turn. But after an hour, she didn’t come back.
“I searched the garden and the museum for the next hour
myself, but I couldn’t locate her. I asked the clerk at the museum for
assistance. He started a search and sent me to the constable’s office,”
Pauline’s voice broke off at the end of her statement about the constable.
Pauline’s crying interrupted the exchange briefly until Rex,
feeling the need to fill in, began telling of the constable’s dilemma and his
treatment. He went on further to explain how often they received similar
requests to gain access to the Osterburg’s home, hoping to lessen the severity
of his boss’s indiscretion. Ozzie listened with a face void of expression while
the guard explained his role in bringing the maid.
“I saw how she was distraught about not remembering how to
reach the house, my lord. It didn’t look like acting to me. She was genuinely
upset. As soon as I got off from work, I found her on the street and agreed to
bring her personally, even if it turned out to be a sham. I’m a sucker for a
pretty miss in distress, my lord,” Rex said looking at Pauline with a
compassionate gaze.
“What are you saying, sir? Has Bliss been recovered? Has
there been some sort of accident?” Ozzie asked quietly. At these words, Penelope
fainted.
Mundy and Ozzie were near enough they managed to catch her
before she hit the floor. Ozzie swept her up with a grunt and hurried to the
sitting room. He placed her on the sofa while Mundy shouted orders to the
nearest maids to fetch her ladies’ maid, some salts and bring her water. Pauline
dissolved again in another fit of tears. She shrank against the wall just
inside the sitting room door, too frightened to move.
“What is your name?” Ozzie rounded on the guard as soon as
his wife was being tended.