Episode 4-Dark Plans

Dark Plans

Upon Your Return - Episode 4

“Do you love me, Fara?” he asked softly.

She gasped. “We've barely just met. We don't know anything about each other...”

“Answer the question, Mademoiselle.”

His fingers once again pinched her flesh, and she felt a surge of pity for this man she didn’t know. “I don’t love you, Jean Le Croíx.”

“Truly?”

Her breath caught. How could a man expect that kind of feeling at a moment's notice, without having had some kind of affiliation beforehand? Was he mad? Then again, perhaps he held romantic illusions, and believed, as very few did, in love at first sight. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I cannot. Not now, at this moment in time.” She knew it would hurt him but didn't know how to fix it without lying to him. It was true, however; she couldn’t love a man she did not know or felt absolutely nothing for.

“Mon Dieu!” Jean's eyes closed briefly, he let out a long string of curses and turned away, striding back the way he came.

Fara winced and lowered her eyes to the floor. She had seen the shock entering his eyes and the pain which followed thereafter. She felt poor for how honest she'd been toward him, but he deserved the truth. It was up to him whether he blamed her for it or not.

She felt the imprint his fingers left in the flesh of her arms and attributed it to his reaction to her admission. She might well have bruises by the morrow, but she no doubt deserved that. Fara had been very honest with her fiancé, and ladies were supposed to ply gentleman with smiles and ready agreements. At the same time, she couldn’t imagine why he would ask her such a question when they barely knew one another. Something about the exchange was very odd.

***

The following evening, Fara sat reading from Madame Bovary when Rosalie knocked on her door.

She lifted her head. “What is it?”

“Mademoiselle, a messenger brought this for you.” The woman entered the room and approached her mistress. “It is from Monsieur Le Croíx.”

“Merci, Rosalie.” She retrieved the letter from her nursemaid and opened it once she had left the room. Inside was a scrawling script which she had to squint to read.

Dear Fara,

Would you accept my apology concerning what happened last night? I don't know what possessed me. I would like to make up for my poor behavior to you. I would be very grateful if you met me at the harbor tonight on pier two at nine o'clock. If you are not up to appearing, I will certainly understand.

Your fiancé,

Jean Le Croíx

She read over the note once more. It was an odd request, to be sure. She frowned, bit her lip a little. At the same time, she felt some amount of guilt for being so honest, even though saying otherwise the evening before would’ve been worse, and she had to trust that Jean meant well by his apology. Perhaps it would be all right to meet him. Besides, they needed to overcome this dilemma before the wedding. She made certain she had enough time to get there, wrapped a shawl about her shoulders, and exited the house quietly. “Pierre!” she called.

The man appeared as he rounded the corner from the stables. He frowned. “Mademoiselle? It is late. Is something wrong?”

“I wish to take a ride tonight. Would you escort me to the harbor? I am to meet someone.”

His face hardened and he frowned as if he didn't approve of the idea, but since she was his mistress, he had no choice. He nodded and helped her inside the carriage. Pierre climbed up on the seat and propelled the conveyance forward.

It was dark as she looked out the opening of the carriage. Men hung about the local pubs, no doubt in search of their own pleasures with women like dames de nuit. Somehow the atmosphere about the town grew darker. It was different from when she visited in daylight. Here, there were all kinds of things to watch for. She wasn’t that naïve. She had often found herself browsing her uncle's personal stash of literature, which included even nefarious titles and questionable illustrations.

She knew she should let Pierre accompany her inside the docks for safety's sake, but she needed to speak to Jean alone. Finally, they reached the harbor and she called ahead, “Pierre, stop here at the entrance.”

“Mademoiselle—”

“Do it.”

He complied, parking where she'd told him. He stepped down and then helped her to step down as well, offering her his arm. “I will escort you.”

“No, Pierre. Stay. I must go alone to this meeting.”

“But Mademoiselle—”

“You heard me.”

He frowned. “Monsieur Bellamont will not be pleased if I don’t accompany you.”

“I am aware.”

He nodded grimly. “If anything happens…”

She lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “Alert my uncle at once.” Then she turned and proceeded to find the right pier.

Pier One. Fara passed it and shivered in her evening dress. The wind picked up. April was always a chilly month. Fara felt the same eeriness at the docks as she had felt going through town. Desolation crept inside her as she glanced about her. Distantly, she heard the occasional shout of men working on the ships docked there. She passed one once in a while, moving crates while others held lanterns to see. They looked worn and their clothes held the grime of days of soil and the lack of bathing facilities. She wrinkled her nose. She caught some leering glances but sidestepped them well enough. Of all the places to meet, why had Jean chosen here?

She had to stay focused. When she reached pier two, she wasn’t sure whether she should walk the pier or wait at the entrance. She did know the ground was filthy and her slippers were soiled. She sighed and hoped her fiancé would soon show. He was a young man. Could he be naïve as well? Truly know nothing about the peril surrounding the harbor and its inhabitants?

She still envisioned his sad eyes, seeing the pain she'd inflicted when she couldn’t tell him what he wished to hear. She didn’t love him, but she could’ve softened her admission with gentler words. At least she should’ve avoided being so definite with her answer, or perhaps have offered him hope of the possibility of love in their future. He might be more of a sensitive man. She didn't know him at all. What was her uncle thinking, suiting her up with a man she barely knew? And how well did he even know Monsieur Le Croíx?

Fara shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Her stomach churned. She'd been waiting a while for him. It seemed at least ten minutes had passed since she'd been left at the entrance to the docks. Surely Jean Le Croíx wouldn’t desert her, leave her alone in this place?

But then, he might be capable of anything. What if he'd asked her to come and decided against going himself? No, he wouldn’t. She was being silly. But how to be sure? The man had only visited the house three times before the announcement of their betrothal. And she'd had no idea she was supposed to marry the man at the time. She simply thought she was entertaining one of her uncle's acquaintances. The time she'd spent with him was enough to discern any kind of opinion about him.

Jean Le Croíx, son of two deceased parents, survived on his father's estate. René Le Croíx, Jean's late father, had been a successful merchant. Jean would know his way around the harbor, considering his father's profession. But these were just details. They said nothing about the character of the man her fiancé was. Of that, she knew nothing.

Why in God's name would Jean Le Croíx ask to meet her here of all places? She had heard tales about what happened to good people who dared set foot around the harbor at night. Theft, rape, death. This was a very bad idea. Surely Monsieur Le Croíx knew the dangers. What if he was a rascal indeed? What if he'd meant for her to be alone at the pier?

A shiver slowly crept up her spine. It wasn't the implications of that thought which plagued her. It was the sense of something or someone close by. Were those footsteps she heard behind her or on another pier?

“Jean? Is that you?” She tried to slow her breathing, which came in rapid pants. “Jean?” She stiffened. “Jean Le Croíx, are you there? You'd better come out.” As she turned, her elbow brushed something and she recoiled, falling against a wall. No, not a wall. Terror ripped through her as she realized a pair of arms enclosed around her.

“Lovely lady. You're looking for someone, I presume? Well, Monsieur Le Croíx thought you'd be better off in our hands.”

Our hands? She tried to jerk away from him, but he was too strong. “Let me go, I-I demand it.”

Laughter erupted nearby and a figure loomed before her. Another man appeared and licked his lips lasciviously. “Oui, Le Croíx believed us quite capable once he dished out the finances required. We may have gotten a poor bargain, Bernard. She could be worth far more.”

The man grunted in agreement.

Mon Dieu, she thought. Jean had hired them! For what exactly? To kill her? Her stomach rolled as she imagined all the things they might do to her.

“Please, I'll do anything. Not this…” She shook her head.

“The lady is smart, Bernard. We must watch her.”

“Please. My…m-my uncle,” she stammered.

“I'm terribly sorry, chère. Your uncle has nothing to do with our pleasure.”

“But…” She swallowed her fear. “Ransom…if you ask for a ransom, he'll give it to you. I promise. Anything.”

“No doubt your guardian is a wealthy man, and you might fetch a fair price. But what we're looking for you cannot buy.” He laughed. “In most circumstances.”

No, they couldn't buy it. But they could take it. Her virginity. She could not fight them if they tried. Men were naturally stronger than ladies.

Anger heated her face and a red haze filled her vision. She struggled harder. “Damn you! You'll pay for this!”

He laughed. “I suppose so. But what else can you do? There is an alternative now, a position with dames de nuit…”

She clenched her fist. Now she was likened to a prostitute? No, it wouldn’t be done. She tried to play at her innocence. “Please…this can't be happening.”

“Oh, but it is, my lovely lady. It won't be so bad—”

“No!” She slammed the heel of her foot in her captor's shin and spun away.

“Bernard!” called one of the men.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she turned, lashing out with her fingernails. He howled in pain, lowering his head to reveal red claw marks over the bridge of his nose. Then the man she'd first wounded came at her, tackling her.

The impact jarred her and she went down. “No!” Her escape didn’t come to fruition.

She rolled to the ground in a maze of skirts and a heavy thigh was thrown across her knees, leaving her immobile. She squeezed her eyes tight. His touch on her face and breasts was repulsive. Tears threatened to overcome her, and they ran like tracks into her hair. “Please,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Ah, gentlemen, what have we here?” An unfamiliar voice sounded and Fara lifted her head weakly to see a new face, a different man. She wondered if he was an ordinary spectator. He didn't look ordinary. He was big, intimidating but not frighteningly so. There was something about him she wanted to trust. She thought it might be his eyes, as she detected a hint of concern when he glanced at her briefly. But of course, she might be wrong. She had been before.

The man who pinned her disengaged himself and got to his feet. He looked down at her uneasily. “To your feet, chère,” he ordered.

She dizzily stood in response, and he clutched her to his side as if to claim her as his possession.

The stranger frowned. “She's quite a catch, gentlemen. Are you sure she's not off-limits?”

The man at her side stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“She appears to be a lady.”

Hope sprang from inside her. The man was no innocent bystander. He was a man with a purpose, but deep down she knew he couldn’t be with these rogues.

“And if she is, Monsieur?”

“Then I would be curious as to why a lady is here with the two of you.”

The one called Bernard replied derisively, “Perhaps we are just too irresistible.”

The man laughed. “Hardly.” He sighed as her captor chose to resume his place behind her and blocked all attempts of escape with an arm across her chest. “Release her, gentlemen. Let's settle this in a civilized manner, shall we?”

The man who held her grunted. “Why don't you go about your business, Monsieur? A simple matter like this shouldn't interest you.”

“A woman's reputation may be at stake. Of course, I'm interested.”

“We might share her, Monsieur.”

His gaze swept over her body, and she shivered. Why, surely, he wouldn’t take them seriously...he couldn't take the offer. For God's sake, he was her only hope. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she cursed herself for her maiden's sensibilities. Where had her strength gone?

“You think I would participate in something so lewd? You mistake my character, gentlemen.” He pulled a rapier from its sheath. “The question is, what risks will you take? Let me see...two men against one. Of course, if you still want to keep the lady, it will take one of you to hold her. She looks fairly strong despite her size...why look at that mark on your face. She has fought you. She could be deadly, if given the chance. That makes one against one. Do you intend to fight me for her obvious favors?”

“Take out the girl, Bernard.”

The command came too quickly and before she could struggle away, a fist slammed against her jaw and she fell into blackness.

She lifted her head sometime later, unsure of how long she'd been unconscious. Her vision gradually returned, and the damp of the ground seeped through her dress. She shuddered with the chill of air upon her body. She heard the scrape of a footstep and a grunting sound above her. Still disoriented, Fara raised her head to see the man who had come to her rescue fighting off the two rogues.

He fought them with expert wrist and arm techniques. He seemed to be in top physical shape as compared to Jean Le Croíx, who was soft for his obvious youth. She grimaced. Her wound caused her to be silly. So, he was attractive and strong...strong enough to fight these men off and break her neck all in the same moment.

Then the man thrust his rapier forward swiftly. When the one called Bernard, who had a white scar down the side of his face pulled away, he revealed a small but bloody wound on his arm. With a ragged breath, he looked at her rescuer as if weighing the consequences of his decision. He then turned on his heel and his accomplice soon followed him away from the docks.

Fara watched their retreat with a deep sigh. Her rescuer pivoted on his heel and approached her. He looked much larger than before. Trembling, she levered herself up on one elbow and waited for him to speak.

He knelt and looked her over. “I guess they gave up the chase...”

Fara nodded, swallowing hard. “Oui, Monsieur.” He touched her cheek, and she felt the warmth emanate from his hand. She was afraid, but she didn’t pull away from his touch. She found it strangely protective, even affectionate. Though she barely knew him, she wanted to believe he cared for her welfare. Her vision clouded with tears as rich longing swept through her. To be cared for completely, to be loved. But he was a stranger. She couldn’t forget that.

Distantly, she knew her physical state was far from normal at the time.

“Are you all right?”

She shook her head, feeling herself grow weaker by the second. Nothing could keep her alert at that moment. “Monsieur...” she murmured, falling into the inviting darkness.