Chapter 2: A Black Delivery : Part Two

Matilda gently lifted the bottom edge of her skirt as she reached the footbridge and started across. Her boots clacked against the old wooden planks that spanned beneath her. As she continued to walk, every so often she would peer over the edge of the rail, hoping to glimpse a fish.

Near the opposite end of the bridge, Matilda spotted an obscure male figure approaching. He had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He presented an ominous figure, cloaked all in black, including a black silk cloth that covered his face. A sleek black top hat crowned his head. He hunched over a thick, silver-handled cane and his cloak skimmed the top of his boots. He paused momentarily as he reached the far edge of the bridge.

While still standing in the grass, the obscured male tapped his cane three times on the bridge edge. The first strike echoed, taunting Matilda's ears. The second strike caused her attention to become fixed on him. By the third strike of the obscured man's cane, Matilda's posture straightened, her eyes warily watched him. Calm down, she told herself, do not be frightened or intimidated.

"Good afternoon." Matilda's speech was rushed as the obscured man slowly approached her, each step more deliberate than the last. Matilda's fingers began to tap incessantly against her side, a nervous habit she had acquired during her youth.

Now each step the unknown male took seemed to increase in intensity. Each time his cane hit the bridge, her heart thumped against her chest. Matilda's shallow breathing increased, at first slowly, getting louder and rougher as he drew near.

When the obscured male reached her, he stopped moving for an instant. He did not acknowledge her, did not even look toward her. He dropped a large parchment-style envelope that hit the bridge with a soft, but audible thump. Then he continued on his way.

When Matilda was sure the obscured male was some distance away, she heaved a deep sigh of relief, clenched her necklace and sunk down to her knees. Matilda felt certain she had heard an object fall a few moments ago, perhaps released by the man. She removed her hand from her jewelry and pawed around on the warped wooden planks until she found a soft paper consistency.

Matilda picked up an envelope, raising it to her eyes to examine it. The envelope had a red wax seal of a lion holding it shut. She flipped it around to the front. Her eyes widened as her mouth formed a circle of surprise. The envelope was addressed to her. How could that be possible, and yet in bold Copperplate, her name was scrawled out. Matilda flipped it back around, this time breaking the seal. Peeking inside the envelope, she viewed a note written on with just one word, "Incipit."

To her horror, under the note she spied two human fingers appearing to be of the female persuasion. One of the fingers even had a wedding ring still attached. In the brief glimpse, she could also determine a bad stench, some blood and one long, manicured fingernail.

Mortified, Matilda's eyes began to roll back. She could feel weakness as her body started to drop. But she did not feel her head hit the bridge plank with a resounding thud. She was already unconscious by then. Her journal and pen slipped from her person into the water.

"Matilda, Matilda." A masculine voice called her name. That voice sounded familiar, urgent even.

Someone shook her shoulders roughly. She struggled to become aware. She needed to respond but could not manage to speak.

Matilda's eyes flickered, her head rolled from side to side and she mumbled the name, "Beatrice," before attempting to pass out again.

The male leaning over her fallen frame shook her harder. "Matilda! Matilda! What about Beatrice?" he asked.

Matilda's eyes flickered again, as she became more alert and handed the envelope to the man. "Hugh," she muttered, finally aware. Matilda's eyes grew wide and her pupils expanded. She watched as her husband reached for the envelope.

Hugh gingerly held the envelope in his hands and with a raised brow, peeked inside. He quickly shut it, a morose look engulfing his face. "I am sorry, Darling, that must have been quite a shock. Love, I am going to pick you up now."

Matilda managed a nod.

Hugh tucked the envelope into his breast pocket. He slid his left arm under her shoulders, accidently catching her red tresses. "I should have you keep your hair pinned," he mumbled, removing his arm. He quickly brushed the long hair out of his way. He slid his arm under her shoulders again, then slid his right hand under the creases of her knees, gently lifting her up. As soon as he did, Matilda's arms wrapped around his neck, clinging tightly.

Matilda nuzzled her face into his chest. "Here is where I am safe," she mumbled just loud enough for Hugh to hear. Matilda rested her head against Hugh and slowly closed her eyes.

"As it should be. I will never count the day or the moment you will say that you do not feel safe in my arms." Hugh pulled her closer to him, holding her even tighter. A feeling of warmth and butterflies consumed her.

Matilda shifted her head slightly and gazed up at him. "You and I both know that day will never come, and if it did, Hugh Larkin, I know you would throw yourself out of a high window." She managed a little chuckle, but her brief attempt at humor did not allow her to escape the seriousness of her experience.

After only a moment of just enjoying each other's presence, a distraught look settled on her face. It was accompanied by a sickening feeling that signaled desperation. Matilda shuddered. "Hugh . . . Beatrice . . . the envelope!" Matilda began to feel light-headed again. Her breathing became more sporadic, as she struggled to catch her breath. "What are we going to do?" she whispered into Hugh's ear.

"Darling, calm down. I am going to take you home. Then we will examine what you know. And we need to contact the constable."

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