The Rending Heart- Short Story
The Rending Heart
By WhyNot
Sir, you must come out at once! They are growing impatient, and require an answer immediately, he called, rapping hard on the door. Hearing nothing in reply, he sighed, and turned back to the waiting members. One of the women glared at him, throwing up her arms in exasperation.
Dont look at us! Keep calling, she said, settling back down into the sofa. She started fixing the multitude of ruffles her gown had formed. If we have to wait any longer, Im afraid this isnt going to work. We can forget his pledge, one he shouldnt have been so hasty in giving, I think. Dont you agree, Ozzy? She nudged the gentleman next to her, who had up until that moment been scrutinizing the vase on the stand next to him.
Hmm? Oh, right. I must admit that he was quick in consenting. Perhaps we are a bit strong though... There he drifted off, and redoubled his focus on the vase, mumbling to himself. I think I recognize that handiwork.
Of course you are, said a voice across the hall. Walking out of the far entryway, another woman strode towards them. She was unusually tall, standing close to the height of the steward. She wore a powder blue summer dress, which helped brighten up her pale complexion. She continued to eye Madame Orwick. He has just as much right as any to change his mind. If you disagree, Ill have Carson show you the door. She glanced over at the man futilely knocking. Please stop. Hell come out when he is ready. Looking relieved, he went into one of the rooms and brought out a chair, which he offered to Miss Rosendahl.
Thank you Carson, but Ill stand; you sit instead, you look tired, she said to him, leaning on the railing. He gave her a warm smile, and like a true attendant placed the chair next to the door. He sat down, and keeping his back straight and his hands folded in his lap, looked back as if expecting further instructions. Madame Orwick had been simmering since Eliza Rosendahl had sauntered in, and now her face had nearly matched both the hue and absurdity of her gown. She started as if to say something, but closed her mouth just as quickly. Clenching her jaw, she composed herself with all the restraint she could muster.
Eliza, Dear, she said. Wouldnt it be best, for all of us, if you were to talk to him? You are his sister, after all. She eyed Eliza, trying to see if her words had hit their mark. Still leaning against the banister, she returned the Madames gaze with the same coolheaded demeanor as before.
Half-sister, Madame. But that says nothing about my affections for him, as we remain closer than kin. If you are finding yourself uncomfortable, she said, noticing the frilly plumes enveloping her, you could always visit the parlor. I do, however, wonder why hes locked himself up. Her face softened slightly on this last remark, and she looked down at the carpeting.
Mr. Orwick finished with whatever speculations he had made in the case of the vase, looked to Eliza and smiled through his thick mustache. Dont worry darling, he is a bright man and a boon to his country. Im sure hell reason through this in no time at all. This drew a thin smile from her, and she looked back to Carson. Either he had been following the conversation quite closely, or he had simply never moved his gaze from Miss Rosendahl, as she was met with the same appreciative smile as before. She noticed that his usually pressed coat was rather haggard looking, and it seemed to slump off his shoulders. His straight black hair was slicked back in his customary fashion, and hung down about his collar, which was slightly crooked. It closed around his neck in such a vicious way that she wondered how he could breathe. He momentarily broke his gaze from her then, removing his glasses and wiping the round lenses with the bottom of his lapel. Finished, he was about to continue his vigil but was interrupted by a loud cry. Without hesitation, he shot out of his chair and was back at the door.
Sir, is everything well? Grant me permission to enter so that I can attend to you! he cried. A fierce necessity had possessed him upon hearing his Masters voice, and he began to knock again. Madame Orwick, rolling her eyes, started towards the door and its attacker.
Did you even try the handle? I bet its not even locked, just walk in. Here, let me go in, she said, reaching for the knob, I bet I can talk him into some sense before this drags on any further. Before she could touch the handle, Carson turned on her with terrifying speed. Jamming himself in the doorway, both palms on either sides of the doorframe, he blocked her from the door.
No Madame! Forgive me but you cant. , I wont allow it. You must have his permission, which he has yet to give. I wish it was that easy, but we must wait. He is the one who must decide, no one else. As he finished, the door opened a hair, through which a sliver of a face could be seen. Between the red of his lips and a dark brow sat a brown eye. This eye looked from Madame Orwick to Carson, then attempted to peer around the doorframe for the others before speaking.
Steady my friend, steady. Your courage is something I envy, as I have need of it now more than ever. But for your loyalty, I thank you. Now, he said, the eye shifting towards the Madame, what can I do for you? I instructed you to wait for me, as I do again now, until three oclock. It is hardly half past one, leaving me with precisely, the eye looked down, one hour and twenty seven minutes. Is there something else you have discovered, some new way of solving this dilemma? No? Then leave me to it! With that the door was closed sharply, and the sound of pacing could be heard on the hard wood floor.
Stunned, Madame Orwick stared dumbly at the door for another moment before Carson gently led her by the arm back to the couch. Her husband took her hand and patted it gently with his own. As Mr. Orwick attended to his wife, Eliza nervously gripped the railing. I wish hed let me inside, she mumbled to herself. Carson walked to her side, put his arm through hers, and escorted her over to the chair beside the door.
Here you are Miss. This is where you rightly belong. I admit its a bit rickety, but it will hold. Let it never be said that my Masters household is a flimsy one, he declared. She smiled at him and nodded her head in thanks. They waited in that way for awhile; Carson watching over Eliza, and Mr. Orwick consoling his Mrs.
After some time had passed, a small white envelope slid out from beneath the door. Carson was the closest to it, and reached down. Upon seeing his name on the front, he opened the envelope and began reading the letter inside. A great crease appeared just below his hairline, which grew deeper as he read on. He was already on the move by the time he finished the letter, placing both note and wrapping in his pocket as he strode down the stairs. This seemed to rouse the Madame back to life, as she stood and ran to the balcony overlooking the lobby. Where do you think youre going? At a time like this? Come back and tell us what was in that letter, I demand it! she shouted down to him.
I refuse! he replied, not looking back. He stopped at the door, and looked up to Eliza, who had joined the Madame at the railing. Guard that door with your life, as it may very well depend on it! Wish me haste, he called. With that said, he left. Stung yet again, Madame Orwick stubbornly took her seat. Eliza followed suit, and put her head between her hands as she pondered what he had said.
Madame Orwick broke the silence. They are coming soon, she said. They should be here at three, and what have we got so far? Not a thing! she shrilled. He sends his attendant on some errand, Lord knows why, and he leaves us, the people who vouched for him, provided for him, without so much as a hint? This will not end well, I can tell you that, she said, shaking her head.
Nonsense dear. Hes probably settling his affairs, moving things this way and that. I heard he had a vast sum tied up in an ambitious gamble in the East. Rumor has it was quite successful too. It is unlike him to wait until the last moment though, to settle a debt. Especially if he could have paid it off before it even became a problem! If he had mentioned it to me earlier, I would certainly have done something to help the man. Any dealings in finance must be taken seriously. Everything must be laid out and examined; it should not be rushed in any respect. I urge caution in these kinds of dealings above all else, and I do hope he has planned accordingly. Ah well, it isnt over yet, he said, looking to his wife. Have some faith in our friend; hes done well for himself. This estate is but a taste of what one pocket holds for Mr. Sarrah. His successes have exceeded the treasuries of small countries. His risks have been many! his losses greatbut he has masterminded the construction of an immense fortune.
Hmph, you talk like hes your own, said the Madame. Well see, well see. I am inclined to think that, if he was so brilliant, he wouldnt be in this mess. Those men from the trust fund will leave with something. I doubt theyll go empty handed; hes promised them money, and thats precisely what theyll come for. And to think we suggested, no, implored them to trust him as we did. Now a scandal will be in all of Londons papers, with us as footnotes no less!
Her shrill voice echoed along the passageway as the conversation drifted into uncomfortable silence. Growing restless, Eliza had taken to pacing the length of banister. Walking past the door, she stopped and swung about. It had been pushed open again, and there he was. Standing half out the door, he stiffened, his gaze locked on Eliza. She had stopped in mid turn, frozen in place. Her eyes sought his, but he cast his gaze down before she caught them. Im sorry, he mumbled. I thought I heard Carson returning. She took a step toward him, but he recoiled, jumping back into the shadow of the room.
Keep back! Please, stay back. Dont get close to me, not anymore. For your sake, he pleaded. She advanced towards him, her arms held out, heedless of his cries. No! he cried, and he slammed the door as she lunged for him. I cannot lay my hand on you dear Sister, I cannot! he moaned, whimpering from behind the door. She pressed herself against the door, embracing it as best she could. She felt a gentle had hand at her back. Turning, she saw the kind face of Mr. Orwick beside her. Falling into his arms, she let him guide her over to the couch between himself and the Madame. They sat in that way for awhile, the three of them huddled on the small couch.
The front door opened then. They all peered over the railing from their seats, and saw Carson walking back upstairs with another man in tow. He was having great difficulty keeping pace with the stewards brisk stride, only managing to heave himself up with the use of the banisters. Finally, he reached the last stair with a gasp. Pulling from his pocket a handkerchief, he proceeded to dab at his collar. A round man with a round face, it didnt come as a surprise to see him out of breath. His thin black hair was parted down the middle and sat perched at the very top of his head. The bulk of his face left his eyes little room to see from, and he maintained a hard squint. It, however, did not seem to stop them from doing their job; darting this way and that, they never seemed to stay fixed on any one thing for very long. He wore a long coat that strained against his midsection, but was neither ornate nor poor. Its only feature was a high breast pocket, from which a gold chain ran out. He gave the length closest to him a tug, and out from his pocket he produced a steel watch. His eyes bounced from the watch to the rest of the onlookers; to and back again, until with a brisk snap, he closed it.
Where is he? was all he asked, and Carson led him to the door. He bent down, and slipped the envelope back under the space above the floor. Immediately the door swung open, but only partially. Pallid fingers were wrapped around the width of the door, holding it open to a certain degree; the body attached was hidden from sight. The shades must have been drawn as there was no light in the room, and it was impossible to see farther than a few feet in. The man looked up at Carson, who only smiled and extended his hand in the direction of the door. Sighing, he walked up to the door and managed to squeeze through the small space left for him. The fingers withdrew, and the door swallowed the man from view.
Carson remained standing in front of the door, but turned to the rest of them and said, That was Mr. Goulding, one of the most respected bankers in London. His bank personally tends to Mr. Sarrahs funds, and on hearing the contents of the letter which was entrusted to me, he came here directly. I am, he added, not able to discuss any more at this time.
Eliza glanced at the clock across the hall. It was now seven past two. He doesnt have much time left, she said, looking up to him. He was about to speak, but an envelope, same as the first, slid from underneath the door. Not wasting a moment, Carlson snatched it up and flew down the stairs without even opening it. Eliza! he called back up. Guard the door. She only nodded, as he was gone before she could reply. Madame Orwick, who had until this point been enduring the most dreadful task of holding her tongue, could hold it no longer.
This is queer business. Deception is vulgar practice, the likes of which Id never stand for. Is this any way for a gentleman of such stature to conduct himself; by holding counsel away from his friends? I dont think I would ever be the first to say it, but it is most shameful. The sinner dreads the day he is tested, when we can see for ourselves his failings. I can hardly think how others might have handled this in our places; think of the scandal that would be whispered in the streets, as we walk by no less! But I am a Christian woman, and I will keep my silence. It is only misfortunate that regret is most foul in silence.
In spite of herself, Elizas calm broke; her hands trembled with an uncontrollable fierceness. Such a passion overtook her upon hearing this that rising to her full height, she let loose such a savage gaze that the diminutive Madame Orwick appeared to shrink inside her towering shadow.
My Lady! cried a voice from behind. Eliza whipped around in response. Discovering its source, she seemed to instantly forget the Madame. A serving girl stood at the far end of the hall. Approaching with a fearful look, she tried to whisper something into Miss Rosendahls ear. Bending down, she nodded, and followed the girl down the hall into one of the far rooms. They could hear from the couch a number of doors open and close, and then they both walked out again in a hurry. Following the maid, Eliza headed downstairs, her face creased in worry. The two disappeared through the doorway leading to the parlor.
I hope everything is alright, said Mr. Orwick.
Oh, yes, Im sure its fine, the Madame said. But, oh, I am feeling quite ill after all this excitement. Ive been wrestling with a nervousness, the situation being what it is, and now Im afraid its getting the best of me.
Maybe we should retire to the parlor then, the walk will do you some good, he replied, moving to help her stand. She evaded his grasp.
Ah, that I only could dear; Im afraid that I cannot move from this spot. The slightest touch upsets me, and I simply cant risk it. She moaned, and turned away from him, her hand over her eyes. Oh, such a vile ache. I can hardly bear it. He took her hand, kissed it, and gently smiled.
Let me fetch you something from the medicine chest; poor soul, let me be your hero today, he declared. She made an effort to smile, and he kissed her again. Attention, I need some attention here! he called, striding down the stairs and into the parlor. She heard his voice dimly carried off into another part of the house until it faded entirely. Peering over the railing, she saw no one in the lobby. She stood up, taking the greatest care in quieting her dress. Eying the door in front of her, she made a move towards it, but stopped. She shifted her gaze down the hallway. Gathering her dress, she crept as quietly as she could down past the row of doors. Far enough away from the staircase, she dropped her skirts and tried to remember where she wanted to go. Stopping in front of one of the many doors, she paused, listening. Hearing nothing, she turned the knob.
Inside was a small antechamber. Two doors stood opposite each other, connecting what she imagined were adjoining bedrooms. An ornate oriental rug blanketed the floor, the likes of which she had never seen before. A large wardrobe stood next to a rocking chair and the rooms sole window. She moved towards the wardrobe to examine it, but a noise caught her ear. Muffled, it drifted from one of the neighboring rooms. Moving closer to one of the doors, the sound grew louder, and she could make out hushed whimpering. The door was ajar; placing her hand on it, she eased it open enough until she could peer inside. The room held complete darkness. There were no windows, and the thin sliver of light from the door revealed black, bare walls. Leaving the door, she hurried over to the wardrobe. Inside, the shelves were empty save a small lantern and a few jars. The lantern was already lit, and cast a dim glow about the interior. Taking one of the jars, she held it up to the light. A dull brown paste moved as she tilted it, eventually settling in place. Placing the jar back on the shelf, she grabbed the lantern. As she withdrew her arm, the light caught one of the jars in an odd way. Curious, she pushed aside the others until she could reach it, and then pulled it closer. Inside floated a spongy pair of darkly colored ovals. Turning the jar, a label read, non licit. She examined it for another moment, but thought nothing of it, and put the jar back.
Closing the wardrobe, she turned back to the door. She could still hear the soft crying, and moving nearer, stuck the lantern through the opening. On the floor was a rug; horrible stains were spattered across it, befouling the once tyrian hue. The only other object in the room rested atop it. Six spindly legs sunk into the soft fabric. Winding themselves upwards they climbed, the glossy limbs finally interlocking in a cold metal weave. The lattice cradled a small round basin covered with a thick black cloth. Five separate bars branched out from the rest, bending over the bassinet as if to grasp it. Cautiously, she approached, making her way around towards the front. Dangling from one of the overarching bars was a small silver locket. She held it in her hand, and examined it in the lamplight. There was a clasp on the side, which she unhitched from its place. A small teardrop when closed, upon opening it transformed into a swollen heart. On one side was a faint picture of Miss Rosendahl. She looked at the other half, her eyes resting on the mans face. She remembered the fleshy contents of the jar and its grave warning, and gasped. Another cry burst out. Holding the lantern up, she heard the whimpers coming from under the cloth. Reaching out, she gripped the velvety cover and tore it aside. A low moan escaped her as she staggered back in horror. Throwing the cloth back in place, its form still visible writhing beneath, she snatched the locket and fled from the room. Running down the hall, she found the couch and collapsed with heaving bosom. Before she could catch her breath, the shock overwhelmed her, and she fainted.
Not soon after did the banker emerge. Looking visibly shaken as well, his watch chain no longer returned to the inside of his coat; instead it merely hung limp from his pocket. His usually neat hair was plastered to his sweaty head, and hung down across his forehead in thick strands.
My God, he said, spying the Madame. He turned to see Orwick striding back up the stairs, followed by three maids, Lady Rosendahl, the steward, and another gentleman with a slim briefcase. Upon seeing his wife lying motionless, Orwick sprang to her side. Come! he called back, to which two of the maids promptly obeyed. Eliza and the girl from before followed them over to where Madame Orwick had collapsed. Meanwhile, Carson had led the man with the briefcase to the door, and after slipping the letter back underneath, he was let inside in the same fashion. Taking Mr. Goulding by the arm, he led him over a ways until they were out of earshot. There near the staircase they murmured to one another, the gravity of the discussion clear on their faces.
About to leave the ring of activity around the incapacitated Madame, a glint coming off of something in her hand caught Elizas eye. Pretending to croon over her fallen friend like the others, she saw what the Madame held in her hand. She took a step back, stunned; faltering, she reached out for her maid and pulled her close. Whispering in her ear, she sent her off down the hall. Still standing there dumbstruck, she only now remembered the other man that had returned with Carson. She knew him too; Mr. Brine, a prestigious doctor, and also the familys trusted attorney. He was a sickly looking man, a tinge too yellow and much too thin. He had a sharpness about him that left her with the impression that hed best not be crossed. Realizing she had been standing there absentmindedly, she made up her mind, and again moved towards the Madame. Standing next to the far maid, she knelt down next to the couch. Taking her limp hand, she held it to her breast, caressing it in both hands. After sighing longingly, she held it to her cheek, kissed it gently, and made her way out of the group. Walking back down the hall, she slipped from her bosom a silver locket, and after placing it in a small pocket near her waist, she followed into the room where the maid had gone.
A knock sounded from the floor below. At its sound, the clock in the hall struck three, its chime silencing the small gathering. All happenings in the hall ceased then, each transfixed on the main entryway. They waited; all was still. The room appeared to have frozen in time; but rather, every person had stopped in order to halt it, afraid of moving lest they bring its inevitable flow rushing back into the room. Another set of knocks came from the front door; they were two, only two, but it was enough to crack the fragile silence that had bound them together against what was to come. Carson stepped away from the banker, his strong hand sliding off of his shoulder, and made his way down the staircase. All eyes watched his solitary procession, for even the Madame Orwick had risen and joined them at the railing. The large oak door loomed over the steward as he approached, dwarfing even his impressive stature. Standing there before it, he steeled himself, and opened the door for the last of the guests of Master Sarrah.
Two men waited at the threshold of the large house. Carson stood aside, in silence, as they entered. The onlookers on the second floor instinctively stepped away from balcony, sitting down in numb anticipation.
Come with me, Carson commanded, and they followed him upstairs. Up on the landing, the others could clearly see the two men now. They both wore dark grey coats of the same fashion, maintaining a stately yet stern appearance. Looking around, the first addressed the others in a severe tone.
Show us where the Master of the household is.
Not a soul stirred. Finally, it was the Madame who pointed, slowly drawing her arm up to aim at the door in front of them. It was the second man who called, his voice harsh and rough.
Come out to us. There is no hiding now.
All was still for a moment. Then the door cracked open slowly, pulled by a cold pale hand. In the doorway stood a man dressed in black, his features hidden by the rooms thick shade. Those bleached hands hung limply at his side, attached to nothing save an immense shadow. You called me, and I am here, he said, stepping forward. In the light, he did not appear so tall nor big; he was a small man, gaunt and slim. His face had a large hooked nose, and angular features. High cheekbones would have given him a certain handsomeness if they hadnt remained so fleshless. A black necktie covered his throat, and a wild shock of dark hair sprouted from his scalp.
William Sarrah, the first said. Your time has run dry.
Mr. Sarrah took a step forward. Please understand, he said.
Youve failed in your promises, growled the second.
Mr. Sarrah made another step, but tripped to the floor. Sprawled across the ground, he lifted his head. Please, you must listen to me, he tried again.
Lies. Just lies, and nothing else. We see through you, stated the first.
Just listen, please, just listen and hear me. I can explain! he cried.
There is nothing to explain, not anymore. We all have seen what you are, rasped the second.
Im not! Im not, dont you see? Please stop; listen! he cried, tears streaking his face.
Enough. It is time for you to come with us, replied the first.
The second man grasped his arms, hauling him up from the ground. He thrashed against him, but the man was stronger, and held tight.
Hold on. Stop for a minute, and wait.
From the dark room stepped another figure, another slim man. Mr. Brine walked over to the first man, and held up a sheet of paper.
I have here a psychiatric evaluation, conducted by myself, and acknowledgeable under the law. This man is not well. He can no longer be held responsible for his own actions; as a consequence, the loss of the funds entrusted to him no longer warrant arrest. However, it is necessary for him to spend time in a facility where he will hopefully recuperate.
The first man grimaced. Finally nodding his head, he gave another nod to his partner. He left then with Mr. Sarrah, still thrashing, shouting to the others to save him. Carson bent down, picking up off the floor a button that had fallen off of his Masters coat. He held it in his hand, looking at it quietly. Mr. Orwick again looked at the vase, now able to see elsewhere, but not wanting to. His wife was the only one to watch him go, realizing that the locket she had taken was no longer in her possession.
What have I done? What have I done! he screamed, but then he was pulled outside the house, and could be heard no more.
A door down at the far end of the hall opened and closed, and Miss Rosendahl appeared before them. Looking at the others, with the strange man among them, she looked confused. Her fair features were marred by the crease in her brow, and she walked hesitantly towards them.
Whats happened? she asked. The strange man gave a slight bow, and proceeded down the staircase. The others did not look up at her. Mr. Brine turned to her.
Miss, there was nothing more I could do for him. He was inconsolable. He is only so lucky that in a few brief moments of clarity, he was able to gather myself and Mr. Goulding. There is this, he said, pulling out a letter and offering it to her. It is the only other thing I can give you. We will keep you aware of his progress.
With that said, he left her. The Orwicks followed him downstairs, along with the maids, who had remained standing during the whole ordeal. Eliza was left with Carson, who, while examining a button, soon followed mutely behind the rest. Turning from the others, she stumbled away, falling into the doorway left open by Mr. Sarrah. Floundering in the dark, she finally found the curtain, and pulled it aside. Light cast itself over an old bureau, to which a grand mirror had been attached. Here she sat and read his letter to her.
Dear Eliza,
This note will find you in distress. Do not worry, for it will pass. I have been made assurances by Mr. Goulding that my fortune is transferred upon my departing, and that it will not be touched by anyone until the time has come. I have arranged for myself to be admitted, as it is the only way. My mind is no longer my own. It is griefs. Dearest Sister, forgive me.
Heartily Yours,
W.S.
Silent, she gazed at the mirror before her. Her pale complexion glistened in the stream of light. Her angular features and high cheek bones cast shadows across her face. Her dark, rich hair fell over her shoulders in slight waves. Drawing one last, deep breath, she stood up and strode from the room, down the hall, through one of the far doors, and into his room.
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