I cannot place where this idea sprung from, but it is another epic fantasy type. But I think it has something that most epic fantasies don't. I think it is a little more modern (i.e. more late 1800s/early 1900s Britain, maybe) and I think it focuses on a part of society that is often neglected: the aristocracy. The older aristocracy. Somewhat contradictorily, I haven't read a lot of epic fantasy so I am very happy to be proven wrong!
So, something funny about this piece... Well, when I first started to write the novel I thought the word 'aristocracy' and 'bureaucracy' were synonymous. Bad writer! *slaps wrist* But I was corrected and I now know better! Enjoy:
Lady Marjorie Messerton was lounged upon her chaise longue, with a glass of white wine in her hand. It was in her drawing room where she lay: a truly elegant room with ornate patterns in the ceiling and along the skirting board. The walls were a goldenrod yellow, and displayed portraits of family members long dead and recently passed away trapped within fancy, golden frames. There were gas lanterns at certain intervals around the room that ebbed a dim light, and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, shining brightly like a star on a clear night.
Lady Messerton listened to a soothing piece of classical music that flowed from the phonograph. It was calming her mind that she believed was over-stressed from acting as a perfect social lady. It was incredibly tiring organising fetes and parties for the aristocracy of Harlun. It was also very energy consuming trying to keep the ‘riff-raff’ out. Though the last social event had been six days ago, she was still recovering.
Lord Messerton walked through the door. He was clad in a white shirt and black trousers; he didn’t have to be entirely smart when he was not acting the host. On his head, he wore a grey powder wig. “Hello, Marjorie! How are you?”
“Perfectly happy. But, I had to fire Sally. I gave her the choice of two frocks for me to wear and she chose one that was perfectly unsuitable, and I was in a great rush to meet Lady Kinkersham. But, her carriage was late picking me up, so I had a lot of time really. Still, no harm done. I tell you what though. Sally was wearing these chicken feathers and one cockerel tail feather in her hair. They looked quite dreadful. She said she found them on the driveway. I told her that I would never let such filth settle on my driveway.”
“Quite right. How is Lady Kinkersham?” Lord Messerton said, uninterestedly.
“Not good. She’s isn’t recovering well from her husband’s murder.”
“That’s a tragedy. That assassin left her with two children and no income to speak of,” Lord Messerton recited from the morning paper’s article on the piece.
“I don’t understand what persuaded them to have children in the first place. Nasty, little things,” said Marjorie, emotionlessly.
“Well, they carry on their family name, don’t they?”
A bell started ringing. It was a high-pitched tring that echoed through the house from the hall downstairs. “Oh, there’s someone at the door,” Lord Messerton stated, obviously.
“I do hope it’s no one important. I am in no condition to act the happy hostess…”
A gunshot erupted through the corridors: a great noise that caused the husband and wife to look at each other in shock. Marjorie dropped the glass of wine. The glass shattered into millions of pieces. The white wine leaked across the floor. The maids and servants in the kitchen dropped what they were doing. They could guess what was happening. They hurriedly made for the kitchen door that led to the courtyard in a mass exodus. “What was that, Percy?”
“Come on, Marjorie. We have to get out of here.”
“But, what’s happened?”
“Just come on, you silly woman,” Percy said angrily.
“Don’t be so common, Percy.”
Lord Percy Messerton was forced to grab his wife’s wrist and drag her out of the drawing room to make her obey. He ran down the corridor that would lead to the mezzanine overlooking the hallway. They arrived and bounded into the barrier that prevented anyone from falling. On the marble, which coated the floor of the hall, lay the butler, Mantle. His white shirt and blazer stained red.
“Mantle?” Lady Messerton shrieked. She started to head for the stairs, but a gunshot stopped her. It just missed her as she tripped as a heel on her expensive shoes broke. She collapsed with a scream. Percy ran up to her and quickly helped her up. He heard cursing and swearing as the assassin was forced to reload his pistol. He picked up Marjorie and threw her over his shoulder. He hurried along the mezzanine with his wife screaming in his ear. He ran through a door and looked behind him. A quick glance told him that the assassin was an unshaved man in a heavy brown coat and hat. He started to aim his gun again.
Percy panicked. He slammed the door and ran down the corridor he had entered. A gunshot hit the door and the wood splintered. Percy carried on running, past bedrooms behind closed doors. The door swung open and the assassin followed them on a top speed chase. Percy swerved through a door and shut it behind him. He locked it, after discovering the key was in the keyhole. The corridor he had run into was dark and dusty. He vaguely remembered this as the passage that led to the attic, though he had not been up there in years. Lord Messerton supposed he must have been a boy when he was last up there. It had only been servants on very rare occasions since he had come into possession of the house on the death of his father. He reached a staircase and quickly climbed it. He heard the doorknob turn, and a few seconds later the assassin’s foot against the door.
The staircase ended up in a dark, dusty room filled with old furniture, ancient portraits and small knickknacks. He looked around for an exit, but there was none. He was trapped. He put down Marjorie, who had pretty much recovered by now, but she was still very shaken up. “Percy, what do we do?”
Percy didn’t answer. He was busy looking around the attic. Dusty, ornate vases, broken tables and chairs, trunks filled with paperwork. No weapon or exit to speak of. Suddenly, something caught his eye. It was a skylight. It was dirty and grimy with neglect of many years. He started to try to open the window. The assassin’s kicking at the door was getting louder and loud cracking noises told them the door was giving way.
Percy couldn’t open the window. Age and dirt had stuck the ancient lock. He pushed and pushed, but it didn’t open. “Hurry, Percy!” Marjorie urged.
“Pass me that fire poker!” Lady Messerton obeyed and passed the iron rod to her husband. Percy took it and smashed the window with it. Light flowed through and into the room, illuminating a fragment of the attic. He continued to smash the skylight until there was a gap big enough for them to climb through. “Come here, Marjorie. I’m going to pass you through the window.”
Marjorie stepped up onto the chair, let her husband take hold of her and be raised through the broken window. The door smashed and the running feet of the killer echoed through the attic.
Marjorie climbed onto the roof to hear a gunshot from below. A shout of agony from her husband told her that the bullet had hit Percy. She moaned and peered through the skylight. She saw Percy lying on the dusty floor with his murderer standing over his corpse. The assassin looked up abruptly and Marjorie spun along the roof. She stood up and nearly fell over, due to the high wind speeds at that height. She ran along the roof, pulling up the hem of her dress to give her greater speed. She turned around to see the assassin climbing out of the skylight.
She continued running. She slipped, and skidded several metres down the roof, along with some tiles. She saw the courtyard below her. She wasn’t good with heights and scrambled back up the roof like a frightened lizard. She staggered to her feet to be confronted by the barrel of a gun. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Blacklight,” replied the assassin. He pulled the trigger. Lady Marjorie Messerton died instantly as the bullet pierced her skull and fried her brain.
Her body buckled and rolled down the roof. This time, she could not stop and her spinning corpse tumbled over the edge. It fell through the air, gaining speed and quickly heading for the cobbled courtyard.
It hit the ground with a stomach-churning crunch. The staff of Messerton Hall looked upon the corpse from the courtyard, whilst the assassin watched, satisfied, from the rooftop.
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