Post by J.Hollick on May 16, 2014 16:46:51 GMT -9
Chapter 3: Household Weaponry
Monsieur Charbonne was fuming and yet feeling superiorly happy at the same time as he strolled at a fast pace down the busy London street. Today was the day he finally showed those infernal Godhold children their true place in the world. Behind him strode four big burly men that, around London, had become known as his ‘debt collectors’, ‘bullies’, ‘goonies’ and just about every other word one could think of to describe men who knew only obedience and violence. They were tall, thick in both muscle and mind and surprisingly hairy. They loped behind Charbonne like a bunch of cavemen, grunting softly and smiling their big toothy grins at all the pretty girls they strode past. They loved giving out beatings and Monsieur Charbonne loved watching them do so.
He could almost feel sorry for the predicament the Godhold children had found themselves in… almost. How was he to blame for the fact that that idiot Cedric Godhold had gotten himself thrown in the loony bin only shortly after borrowing a small fortune from Charbonne’s coiffeurs to try and save his bankrupt business? Or that the heir, Charles Godhold, had quickly gambled away that borrowed fortune while watching the last of his father’s business crumble around him? That wasn’t Charbonne’s problem; no that was Charles’ problem now and if he’d been smart he would have paid up the first time the Frenchman came knocking at his door. Charles had eluded Charbonne not once or twice but three times. The very last straw was when he had seen Charles sneak out from between his friend’s feet at the pub last night. Now he was paying a surprise visit and if Charles didn’t have the money for him he would pay in both blood and pain and then, of course, surrender to work for Charbonne until the debt was repaid. The endless cycle to this however was that Charbonne tacked such a high interest rate on all his loans that it would take a miracle for Charles to ever work his way out.
Monsieur Charbonne arrived outside of Godhold Place and paused a moment to look up at the tall townhouse. Godhold Place had certainly begun to show its age these last couple years, shutters were hanging from their hinges, the front hedges lining the property were in desperate need for a trim and, as he opened the front gate, it howled loudly in protest in obvious need of some grease.
The fire crackled loudly fighting the cold in the kitchen of Godhold Place. Charles was nursing his hangover by sipping a strong cup of tea and closing all the curtains to the outside light. Theresa, who was nursing a breakout of rash and blisters by lightly dabbing them with cold water and milk in an attempt to stop the incessant itching, was busy cursing herself for her lapse in judgment. But perhaps worst of all of them was Jasmine, who was nursing a broken heart by whimpering softly in the corner as she sewed frills onto an old gown. None of them had spoken a word on the ride home the previous night nor had they broken their vow of silence this morning. It wasn’t until Jasmine arose from her sewing and crying and opened the pantry door to get herself some breakfast that words were finally spoken between them. Jasmine, upon swinging the door open, let out a small gasp.
“What? What is it?” Asked Charles, rising quickly from his stool and regretting it instantly as his head pounded with a newfound force.
“There’s no food left. Oh Charles, you must get us some money from the safe so we can go to market.”
“Very well, I suppose we can spare a few coin to stop the rumbling of our bellies. But no pastries, we must be careful with what we have left.”
“Funny, you always seem to find plenty of coin for drink.” Theresa retorted, earning herself a glare from Charles. Slowly Charles made his way to the living room where he swung back the portrait above the mantle to reveal a safe hidden in the wall. He inserted the key that he kept around his neck into the lock and swung open the door. At the sight of its contents Jasmine fainted and Theresa yelped.
Inside the safe was… nothing. Not even a cobweb. Even Charles let out a small whimper.
“I swear, there was plenty left when I took out a few pounds last night.” He responded. Suddenly the door behind them smashed open.
Monsieur Charbonne and his debt collectors entered the room, stepping carefully over the unconscious form of Jasmine lying on the floor. He spared only a moment to look at Theresa’s splotchy face in disgust before speaking.
“Monsieur Godhold.” Charbonne said, his thin, wiry frame towering over Charles and Theresa as they slowly backed away. Eventually they came into contact with the fireplace and were forced to stop while the debt collectors circled, grinning stupidly and nodding. Monsieur Charbonne leaned casually against the wall, getting ready to enjoy the show.
“I ave come to collect ze debt owed to me.” He stated, his French accent thick and hard to make out, “Do you have eet?”
All Charles was capable of doing was shaking his head no while staring wildly about him in horror as the debt collectors closed in. Theresa felt around blindly for a weapon. Her hands came into contact with the metal stand and her fingers wrapped around the fire poker. She looked over at her brother, his eyes were wide with fear but she nodded at him and he seemed to understand her meaning and nodded back. Taking a deep breath Theresa pulled the fire poker from the stand and smashed one of the men over the head. He slumped instantly to the floor. Beside her Charles dove between the legs of another man and bolted for the door, stopping just short to look back at her in confusion, the door held open and his foot already on the front porch.
“I thought you meant run?” He asked her as one of the men chased after him. Theresa took advantage of their distraction to promptly thump another one of the debt collectors on the head, effectively sending him to the floor as well, yelling in fright as she did so. Charles, upon realizing that his sister had no intention of running away, proceeded to roll up his sleeves. Lifting his fists up in front of him and jumping from one foot to the other while striving to look tough he started to snort and growl. Needless to say it did not have its intended effect. Charles suddenly found himself sitting on the floor after receiving a sharp knock to the top of his head, successfully collapsing his top hat. Just as the two men were reaching down to lift him up to his feet there was a loud thwang! Both men’s eyes glazed over and they too slumped to the ground. Charles looked up to see both his sisters standing before him. Theresa, still wielding her fire poker, and Jasmine desperately clutching at a frying pan. At some point during the scuffle she had awoken and slithered off to the kitchen. They helped Charles to his feet, forgetting for a moment that Monsieur Charbonne was still leaning against the far wall. His slow clap alerted them to his presence and they all turned to face him.
“Bravo. Very brave indeed,” He said, pushing himself off the wall and slowly walking forward, “Owever. Zis does not change ze facts. You still owe me your fazer’s loan and if you will not be forced into giving eet to me under my conditions I will be forced to take you to court, where, when you cannot pay me, my dear Charles, you will be sent to prison. Sentenced to rot out your days in a small dank cell. Godhold Place will be sold to ze highest bidder and your seezters, when forced to ze streets, will be compelled to pay for zeir foods through some very dishonest and downright dizgusting means of employment.” Charbonne was now standing directly in front of Charles, leaning so close they were face to face. Charles closed his eyes against the spraying of spittle that pattered against his face as Charbonne ranted. He was so close that Charles could smell the breakfast of sausage and fish that Charbonne had consumed earlier that day. Still Charbonne leaned in closer until his large beak nose was touching Charles’ small straight one.
Not knowing what to do Charles panicked. Closing his eyes he curled his hand into a fist, leaned backwards and thrust his hand upwards and his whole body forwards. He made direct contact with Charbonne’s face. Charbonne stumbled backwards, surprised. He looked upwards and made eye contact with all three Godhold siblings one at a time, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. Then blood streamed from his nose and he collapsed.
The siblings stood silent for a moment, staring around at the chaos they had created. Both Theresa and Jasmine were still clutching their household weapons while Charles cradled his fist in agony. Charles was the first to break their stupor by letting out an ear splitting yell of pain and falling to his knees. Theresa and Jasmine immediately stooped to pick him up and rushed him into the kitchen where they stuck his hand into a bucket of cold water. Theresa’s mind leapt into action.
“What have we done Charles. We can’t stay here now and they’ll all wake up any minute now.”
“What do you suggest?” He said through clenched teeth, breathing heavy and rocking back and forth.
“I don’t know. We have to leave, now.”
“And where do you propose we go?” He asked, “We have no money to pay for a place, or to even feed ourselves.”
Theresa began to pace back and forth, forgetting for the time being her rash and blisters as her mind worked in a frantic fury. Finally she stopped.
“To the country cottage.” She said, “Don’t you see? It’s perfect. Far from the city no one will know of our debt there. There is enough land for us to grow our own food or even rent it out. We could sell Godhold Place and pass our days out there.”
“I hate the country.” Jasmine whined. “There are no balls, no one wears pretty dresses. It’s just farmers and manure.”
“Well then stay here and sell yourself on the streets, it appears that undressing is about all you’re good at anyway.” Theresa barked, shocking Jasmine into silence. Jasmine made herself very small and backed into the corner, holding the frying pan in front of her like a shield. Theresa instantly regretted her words but only a little, “That’s it. I’ve decided. Jasmine, go upstairs and pack your things. You too Charles.” No one moved.
“But we don’t even have money for a carriage and we can’t possibly walk all that way. I don’t even remember how to get there.” Jasmine whined, clutching at the front of her dress in distress.
“It’ll be easy enough. It’s on the southern coast so for now, we’ll walk south. The most important thing right now is to get out of London. Now stop wasting time and go pack.”
Jasmine was struggling beneath the weight of her large brown travelling case. Holding it with two hands she leaned back and took it one step at a time. She sighed and whimpered slightly, hoping for some sympathy from Theresa or Charles but they both ignored her and instead walked briskly ahead, pausing every several minutes to let her catch up. The day was still drizzling and the muddy streets of London soon caked the hems of the girl’s dresses and splattered all over Charles’ boots and pants. By evening they were on the outskirts and night was falling.
“Now what?” Jasmine asked miserably, plopping her suitcase roughly down into the mud. “We need to sleep somewhere and we have no money.” She complained, taking a seat on her suitcase she rested her head in her hands and began to pout. “It’s going to start getting cold.”
“Enough.” Theresa snapped, “Let me think.”
The trio stood in silence on the quiet street, Jasmine sulking, Theresa pondering and Charles sucking his damaged knuckles and trying to fix his top hat.
“I recognize this house.” Theresa said suddenly spying a large manor on the corner, “It belongs to Mr. Hill. He used to do some dealings with father.”
“Perfect,” Jasmine jumped up and lifted up her suitcase, “If he was friends with Papa he will surely let us stay the night.” She proclaimed and began lugging her suitcase across the road.
“Friends isn’t exactly the term I would use. And besides they won’t be home. Mr. Hill and his wife always disappear to her parent’s place in Paris around this time of year. See how overgrown the hedges are?” She pointed towards them and her younger siblings turned their heads, “He’s in Paris now and has released his servants for the next couple weeks. He doesn’t like paying for services he can’t personally enjoy.”
“Even more perfect!” Charles said triumphantly as he too stooped to pick up his travelling bag and join Jasmine. Theresa stood for a moment watching her younger siblings march off down the street before scooping up her suitcase and joining, albeit hesitantly.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She called after them hurrying to catch up. Something told Charles Theresa understood exactly what was about to happen. Charles walked confidently up the steps and through the gate. Upon reaching the door and testing it he found it locked. He banged the lion’s head knocker loudly and waited several minutes. There was no answer so he peered suspiciously around the neighbourhood before giving the door a hard kick near the handle.
“Charles, no.” Theresa warned. But her brother ignored her and kicked again. The door burst inwards violently. The grand entrance hall stretched before them. A large staircase disappeared into the second floor. Before Theresa could stop them her younger siblings were inside, dropping their muddy suitcases on the floor and Theresa barely managed to convince them to remove their mucky footwear before they were running off to explore the house.
Once Theresa finally ‘pulled the stick from her arse’ as Charles so delicately put it, all three Godhold siblings thoroughly enjoyed their evening. Charles found the stash of cigars and scotch and passed the night before the fire in the den. Jasmine went straight to the bedrooms where she was ecstatic to find that Mrs. Hill’s dresses fit her perfectly, and by perfectly Theresa believed her sister to mean so tight she strained against the fabric and threatened to break off every button, strap and bit of lace. Theresa herself discovered the library and set about studying maps of the southern coast in order to plot the fastest way to their summer cottage, though she was quickly distracted by the vast amount of reading material surrounding her. Once they had all fulfilled their guilty pleasures they convened in the kitchen where they engaged in a feast of stewed yams and potatoes and the last of the salted fish they found in the pantry. Yawning they all retired to separate rooms.
To follow my attempts to get published visit: www.jaimiehollick.blog.com
Monsieur Charbonne was fuming and yet feeling superiorly happy at the same time as he strolled at a fast pace down the busy London street. Today was the day he finally showed those infernal Godhold children their true place in the world. Behind him strode four big burly men that, around London, had become known as his ‘debt collectors’, ‘bullies’, ‘goonies’ and just about every other word one could think of to describe men who knew only obedience and violence. They were tall, thick in both muscle and mind and surprisingly hairy. They loped behind Charbonne like a bunch of cavemen, grunting softly and smiling their big toothy grins at all the pretty girls they strode past. They loved giving out beatings and Monsieur Charbonne loved watching them do so.
He could almost feel sorry for the predicament the Godhold children had found themselves in… almost. How was he to blame for the fact that that idiot Cedric Godhold had gotten himself thrown in the loony bin only shortly after borrowing a small fortune from Charbonne’s coiffeurs to try and save his bankrupt business? Or that the heir, Charles Godhold, had quickly gambled away that borrowed fortune while watching the last of his father’s business crumble around him? That wasn’t Charbonne’s problem; no that was Charles’ problem now and if he’d been smart he would have paid up the first time the Frenchman came knocking at his door. Charles had eluded Charbonne not once or twice but three times. The very last straw was when he had seen Charles sneak out from between his friend’s feet at the pub last night. Now he was paying a surprise visit and if Charles didn’t have the money for him he would pay in both blood and pain and then, of course, surrender to work for Charbonne until the debt was repaid. The endless cycle to this however was that Charbonne tacked such a high interest rate on all his loans that it would take a miracle for Charles to ever work his way out.
Monsieur Charbonne arrived outside of Godhold Place and paused a moment to look up at the tall townhouse. Godhold Place had certainly begun to show its age these last couple years, shutters were hanging from their hinges, the front hedges lining the property were in desperate need for a trim and, as he opened the front gate, it howled loudly in protest in obvious need of some grease.
The fire crackled loudly fighting the cold in the kitchen of Godhold Place. Charles was nursing his hangover by sipping a strong cup of tea and closing all the curtains to the outside light. Theresa, who was nursing a breakout of rash and blisters by lightly dabbing them with cold water and milk in an attempt to stop the incessant itching, was busy cursing herself for her lapse in judgment. But perhaps worst of all of them was Jasmine, who was nursing a broken heart by whimpering softly in the corner as she sewed frills onto an old gown. None of them had spoken a word on the ride home the previous night nor had they broken their vow of silence this morning. It wasn’t until Jasmine arose from her sewing and crying and opened the pantry door to get herself some breakfast that words were finally spoken between them. Jasmine, upon swinging the door open, let out a small gasp.
“What? What is it?” Asked Charles, rising quickly from his stool and regretting it instantly as his head pounded with a newfound force.
“There’s no food left. Oh Charles, you must get us some money from the safe so we can go to market.”
“Very well, I suppose we can spare a few coin to stop the rumbling of our bellies. But no pastries, we must be careful with what we have left.”
“Funny, you always seem to find plenty of coin for drink.” Theresa retorted, earning herself a glare from Charles. Slowly Charles made his way to the living room where he swung back the portrait above the mantle to reveal a safe hidden in the wall. He inserted the key that he kept around his neck into the lock and swung open the door. At the sight of its contents Jasmine fainted and Theresa yelped.
Inside the safe was… nothing. Not even a cobweb. Even Charles let out a small whimper.
“I swear, there was plenty left when I took out a few pounds last night.” He responded. Suddenly the door behind them smashed open.
Monsieur Charbonne and his debt collectors entered the room, stepping carefully over the unconscious form of Jasmine lying on the floor. He spared only a moment to look at Theresa’s splotchy face in disgust before speaking.
“Monsieur Godhold.” Charbonne said, his thin, wiry frame towering over Charles and Theresa as they slowly backed away. Eventually they came into contact with the fireplace and were forced to stop while the debt collectors circled, grinning stupidly and nodding. Monsieur Charbonne leaned casually against the wall, getting ready to enjoy the show.
“I ave come to collect ze debt owed to me.” He stated, his French accent thick and hard to make out, “Do you have eet?”
All Charles was capable of doing was shaking his head no while staring wildly about him in horror as the debt collectors closed in. Theresa felt around blindly for a weapon. Her hands came into contact with the metal stand and her fingers wrapped around the fire poker. She looked over at her brother, his eyes were wide with fear but she nodded at him and he seemed to understand her meaning and nodded back. Taking a deep breath Theresa pulled the fire poker from the stand and smashed one of the men over the head. He slumped instantly to the floor. Beside her Charles dove between the legs of another man and bolted for the door, stopping just short to look back at her in confusion, the door held open and his foot already on the front porch.
“I thought you meant run?” He asked her as one of the men chased after him. Theresa took advantage of their distraction to promptly thump another one of the debt collectors on the head, effectively sending him to the floor as well, yelling in fright as she did so. Charles, upon realizing that his sister had no intention of running away, proceeded to roll up his sleeves. Lifting his fists up in front of him and jumping from one foot to the other while striving to look tough he started to snort and growl. Needless to say it did not have its intended effect. Charles suddenly found himself sitting on the floor after receiving a sharp knock to the top of his head, successfully collapsing his top hat. Just as the two men were reaching down to lift him up to his feet there was a loud thwang! Both men’s eyes glazed over and they too slumped to the ground. Charles looked up to see both his sisters standing before him. Theresa, still wielding her fire poker, and Jasmine desperately clutching at a frying pan. At some point during the scuffle she had awoken and slithered off to the kitchen. They helped Charles to his feet, forgetting for a moment that Monsieur Charbonne was still leaning against the far wall. His slow clap alerted them to his presence and they all turned to face him.
“Bravo. Very brave indeed,” He said, pushing himself off the wall and slowly walking forward, “Owever. Zis does not change ze facts. You still owe me your fazer’s loan and if you will not be forced into giving eet to me under my conditions I will be forced to take you to court, where, when you cannot pay me, my dear Charles, you will be sent to prison. Sentenced to rot out your days in a small dank cell. Godhold Place will be sold to ze highest bidder and your seezters, when forced to ze streets, will be compelled to pay for zeir foods through some very dishonest and downright dizgusting means of employment.” Charbonne was now standing directly in front of Charles, leaning so close they were face to face. Charles closed his eyes against the spraying of spittle that pattered against his face as Charbonne ranted. He was so close that Charles could smell the breakfast of sausage and fish that Charbonne had consumed earlier that day. Still Charbonne leaned in closer until his large beak nose was touching Charles’ small straight one.
Not knowing what to do Charles panicked. Closing his eyes he curled his hand into a fist, leaned backwards and thrust his hand upwards and his whole body forwards. He made direct contact with Charbonne’s face. Charbonne stumbled backwards, surprised. He looked upwards and made eye contact with all three Godhold siblings one at a time, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. Then blood streamed from his nose and he collapsed.
The siblings stood silent for a moment, staring around at the chaos they had created. Both Theresa and Jasmine were still clutching their household weapons while Charles cradled his fist in agony. Charles was the first to break their stupor by letting out an ear splitting yell of pain and falling to his knees. Theresa and Jasmine immediately stooped to pick him up and rushed him into the kitchen where they stuck his hand into a bucket of cold water. Theresa’s mind leapt into action.
“What have we done Charles. We can’t stay here now and they’ll all wake up any minute now.”
“What do you suggest?” He said through clenched teeth, breathing heavy and rocking back and forth.
“I don’t know. We have to leave, now.”
“And where do you propose we go?” He asked, “We have no money to pay for a place, or to even feed ourselves.”
Theresa began to pace back and forth, forgetting for the time being her rash and blisters as her mind worked in a frantic fury. Finally she stopped.
“To the country cottage.” She said, “Don’t you see? It’s perfect. Far from the city no one will know of our debt there. There is enough land for us to grow our own food or even rent it out. We could sell Godhold Place and pass our days out there.”
“I hate the country.” Jasmine whined. “There are no balls, no one wears pretty dresses. It’s just farmers and manure.”
“Well then stay here and sell yourself on the streets, it appears that undressing is about all you’re good at anyway.” Theresa barked, shocking Jasmine into silence. Jasmine made herself very small and backed into the corner, holding the frying pan in front of her like a shield. Theresa instantly regretted her words but only a little, “That’s it. I’ve decided. Jasmine, go upstairs and pack your things. You too Charles.” No one moved.
“But we don’t even have money for a carriage and we can’t possibly walk all that way. I don’t even remember how to get there.” Jasmine whined, clutching at the front of her dress in distress.
“It’ll be easy enough. It’s on the southern coast so for now, we’ll walk south. The most important thing right now is to get out of London. Now stop wasting time and go pack.”
Jasmine was struggling beneath the weight of her large brown travelling case. Holding it with two hands she leaned back and took it one step at a time. She sighed and whimpered slightly, hoping for some sympathy from Theresa or Charles but they both ignored her and instead walked briskly ahead, pausing every several minutes to let her catch up. The day was still drizzling and the muddy streets of London soon caked the hems of the girl’s dresses and splattered all over Charles’ boots and pants. By evening they were on the outskirts and night was falling.
“Now what?” Jasmine asked miserably, plopping her suitcase roughly down into the mud. “We need to sleep somewhere and we have no money.” She complained, taking a seat on her suitcase she rested her head in her hands and began to pout. “It’s going to start getting cold.”
“Enough.” Theresa snapped, “Let me think.”
The trio stood in silence on the quiet street, Jasmine sulking, Theresa pondering and Charles sucking his damaged knuckles and trying to fix his top hat.
“I recognize this house.” Theresa said suddenly spying a large manor on the corner, “It belongs to Mr. Hill. He used to do some dealings with father.”
“Perfect,” Jasmine jumped up and lifted up her suitcase, “If he was friends with Papa he will surely let us stay the night.” She proclaimed and began lugging her suitcase across the road.
“Friends isn’t exactly the term I would use. And besides they won’t be home. Mr. Hill and his wife always disappear to her parent’s place in Paris around this time of year. See how overgrown the hedges are?” She pointed towards them and her younger siblings turned their heads, “He’s in Paris now and has released his servants for the next couple weeks. He doesn’t like paying for services he can’t personally enjoy.”
“Even more perfect!” Charles said triumphantly as he too stooped to pick up his travelling bag and join Jasmine. Theresa stood for a moment watching her younger siblings march off down the street before scooping up her suitcase and joining, albeit hesitantly.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She called after them hurrying to catch up. Something told Charles Theresa understood exactly what was about to happen. Charles walked confidently up the steps and through the gate. Upon reaching the door and testing it he found it locked. He banged the lion’s head knocker loudly and waited several minutes. There was no answer so he peered suspiciously around the neighbourhood before giving the door a hard kick near the handle.
“Charles, no.” Theresa warned. But her brother ignored her and kicked again. The door burst inwards violently. The grand entrance hall stretched before them. A large staircase disappeared into the second floor. Before Theresa could stop them her younger siblings were inside, dropping their muddy suitcases on the floor and Theresa barely managed to convince them to remove their mucky footwear before they were running off to explore the house.
Once Theresa finally ‘pulled the stick from her arse’ as Charles so delicately put it, all three Godhold siblings thoroughly enjoyed their evening. Charles found the stash of cigars and scotch and passed the night before the fire in the den. Jasmine went straight to the bedrooms where she was ecstatic to find that Mrs. Hill’s dresses fit her perfectly, and by perfectly Theresa believed her sister to mean so tight she strained against the fabric and threatened to break off every button, strap and bit of lace. Theresa herself discovered the library and set about studying maps of the southern coast in order to plot the fastest way to their summer cottage, though she was quickly distracted by the vast amount of reading material surrounding her. Once they had all fulfilled their guilty pleasures they convened in the kitchen where they engaged in a feast of stewed yams and potatoes and the last of the salted fish they found in the pantry. Yawning they all retired to separate rooms.
To follow my attempts to get published visit: www.jaimiehollick.blog.com
