Devronne (Sample Work)
East Virginia April, 1856 “Sir Devronne, your coach is waiting for you.” Vera, a shy and comely servant stood on the steps and bent down awaiting dismissal. Sir Devronne then lifted an annoyed hand above her head and flicked it. With this she entered the manor quietly. After a moment, he set a foot in the coach while the other rested gently in hope of not entering itself also. Suddenly, a young man appeared and he was hurriedly galloping his horse towards the coach with a wrapped seal in his hand. He handed it out to the impatient hand and it was broken and opened instantly. The young man left immediately with the acceptance of a nod from Mr. Devronne, and continued on his way. It was then Devronne entered with both feet and with his door shut, tapped his cane on the side of the door. The carriage began to trot toward the village and away from his step-daughter's manor. It can easily be said that Murich Devronne was a synonym for dementia. This man held a tight pouch of egotism and abandoned his dear departed wife, Eleanor Devronne of late Muirelle, in her state of sickness. Then he left her naked of riches, for she was a wealthy woman. It was mysteriously convenient for him that she be ill, and then soon die. He had never loved her. He might have thought he did in some ill-conceived notion of pity and duty. Nonetheless, he was a handsome man, younger than his lover; he still brought her to him. He entranced her with his charms and smiles. Shortly what seemed after two months, it was she who mentioned marriage. Devronne never hesitated at this thought. Now he laughed after her death to have thought he ever loved that woman. He had smiled at the moment her pale hand fell to her side, limp without life. Intentionally knowing, Eleanor had wasted her time caring for him, for he had never cared for her. He once held the grand mansion they lived in, with its gardens and wineries. They had an enormous library and more rooms than needed servants to clean them. He had much in this life he demanded. Yet, after pleasing Eleanor continuously to obtain everything from her, he never granted her wish to have another child. This, he thought, would ruin his plans immensely. He was a self centered fool who had planned to marry a wealthy widow and become a widow himself. He intended to become extremely rich, raising expenses and tossing money with still scraps of it to spend. In this action of greed, Devronne likened himself a Lord of the land, becoming the wealthiest person in Willowsbur and shadowing his hand of control over the population. He had promised himself not to make a single enemy, in interest of his reputation. Yet, this was nature’s territory and he created more enemies than he could count. Devronne’s daily chore included strolls through foreign towns, dining in royal suits and hard money gambling. In this feature did he specialize. As a fan of money, it was this idol of fame and fortune that filled his insatiable mind. Yet this opulent comfort soon ended when his mansion was burnt to the ground with the accidental panic of a horse’s kick, shattering a flamed lantern. It swept up the eastern side of the mansion and became uncontrollable, engulfing not only his house but everything Devronne has strived to achieve. There was never a thought of a second plan, in event of failure to this money-swallowing plot. Thus, leaving him homeless but not penniless for which he was at least grateful and began searching for an exit to his troublesome affliction. At such a convenient time, a young maiden would come to Willowsbur, opening options he thought would never appear. A new plan arose, and in this plan comprised of another lover, another wedding and another death. Yet, if she delighted him enough, he would consider somewhat, another year of life. Little did he know that his aim for ceaseless success would take a different role in his existence. The carriage arrived on precise timing to the village of Willowsbur. Devronne had planned to arrive a bit earlier but, remembering, something had delayed his plans. When the coach came to a halt, he darted his body through the door and entered the Grand Hall of Justice. “Mr. Devronne, glad to see you. You have arrived on time. I’d presumed to see you earlier, but no time for expectations. I myself am usually off task” Judge Fathome welcomed him with a sly grin and motioned his hand towards a chair at the front of the pew. Very important witnesses stood in wait of his presence. And by the look on their faces, it seemed being on time was easily condemned as being late. Devronne noticed one of the “very important witnesses” was Eleanor’s sister, Helen Hemming. She was not delighted to see that he could still use his sardonic smile when they stared each other down. They were enemies for sure, or at least he was. Devronne could never like the simple-garbed woman, with her brown clothing, brown hair, brown eyes and tight bun. She was shrewish and distasteful. He shivered thinking if the mousy woman had have been the Widow Muirelle. Not an enthusiastic idea to be sure. “Take a seat please. I have granted that you bring forth to me the documents of your late wife, Eleanor Devronne formerly Widow Muirelle. You must share here the receipts of her medical care by Doctor Welsh, who assisted your wife, in order to clear Miss Hemming’s accusation against you. Then, you must also share the testimony she last wrote with the seal of certification, signed by the dean of Willowsbur, the governor of Willowsbur and at least one witness. I see that you have all as requested. Miss Hemming’s accusation of you will be abandoned—” Miss Hemming quickly rose out of her chair. Her face displayed offense and disbelief and her hands clenched at her sides. She opened her mouth to speak. “I—” “—and will not be further mentioned in my courtroom!” Judge Fathome’s eyes were pointedly holding Miss Hemming’s. She huffed an indignant reply and walked out. Stomping out was more likely, thought Devronne. “Now continuing, do you Mr. Devronne have the promissory note that was granted from your late wife’s daughter, Kathleen Muirelle, containing her inheritance?” “Yes your honor. I have here a seal whereas she declines the property and hands it to me. It has her signature for verification and her family seal.” Devronne handed the remaining seals. Waiting in silence his mind wandered. Was it right to take what he had wanted for so long? Was it forbidden to take more than conquered? He knew that seal was not genuine, yet a few gold pieces had made it so. Someone who could copy her exact signature and create a stamp that matched her family seal was particularly hard to find these days. Harder still when the copy artists feared risking their necks. For Devronne it was dangerous. Kathleen Muirelle never knew she had such holdings. She had abandoned her family at thirteen to a young man she had claimed to love. Her father, Martin Muirelle, died the following month as she did not return. With that news, Kathleen would be sure never to return. The reception in her home would not be pleasant, especially when she had shamed her family completely. Eleanor had lost all hope for her daughter’s return and began a new life, in which he happened to enter, and quite coincidentally he thought. Looking up at Judge Fathome, Devronne could not help feeling nervous when the judge’s mouth formed a frown. He turned the pages again and seemed to be searching for something, then leaning to his left he whispered something into a close officer’s ear and the officer nodded a confirmation. “Mr. Devronne, it seems your witness to this promissory note is dead and there is no second witness. As a result, we will need Miss Muirelle to appear and clarify this document. Is she here now?” Devronne went pale with need. She would never be able to prove the documents. She was unaware they existed, and he would not be able to find her. “I am sure we do not need her signature for this. She has already proved her decline in the seals.” “Do not tell me, Mr. Devronne, what we may or may not need. I am the law! And the law states that we do require such verifications to prove your claim! Since I assume she is not here I will make a decision about this estate. In the meantime, you may reside at the manor until you relocate this Miss Muirelle. You will have six months to find her. If not, her holdings will be held by the state until noted otherwise. You may leave now Mr. Devronne. There is nothing I can do for you.” Judge Fathome extended his hand towards the exit and with a gasp of satisfaction spoke his final words to him… “Good Day!” Devronne left the building, along with him a clamoring upsurge of anger. East Virginia June, 1856 He watched her dance, so graceful did she flow from one side of the room to the other. “Sweet Kathleen.” He whispered. As if she heard him her eyes met his across the floor. Noticing the fire that leaped into his, she quickly averted her gaze and smiled at her partner. Kathleen Robinson had arrived in a carriage with her intended one sunny afternoon. He remembered seeing them both with their heads together smiling and laughing. Devronne had immediately felt angry. He had wanted to feel the same way. He wanted to feel total abandon and exuberant joy, but his plans had been first and foremost. Even as he viewed the woman, beautiful with her fiery waist-length locks, luscious curves and pouting full lips, he would have to concentrate in attaining the Muirelle Manor. If indeed a Kathleen Muirelle did not arrive to retrieve the house or return, the end the result would be the same, Devronne would be waving farewell to the manor. Little did he know, or anyone else for that matter, that Kathleen Muirelle stood before him not twenty paces away and unaware herself who she was. Later he learned about her predicament of memory loss and how she was found wondering some New York dock. There she had met a man who had taken her in and then asked for her hand in marriage. Not only that, Devronne had learned an interesting tidbit in the Frolicking Inn. An old drunken man was quick to deliver the news that she was Eleanor’s long lost daughter and that no one could forget a face as fair as hers. Devronne had disposed of the old man quickly. He could not have him blabbering around town and alerting the town to her presence. Elated afterwards that he would have to pursue the flame-haired girl, he went to every event she attended. All the while knowing, no one would be allowed to learn who she truly was and her possessions; more so the girl. And not until they were well married and he had consummated the marriage, would he tell her. His manhood inflamed thinking about that particular thought. He would teach her pleasures at night, and he would bet she would be more than willing. She twirled next to the man who had claimed her first. If he had met her before the man, there was no doubt she would have been twirling on his arm and it would have been their wedding night and a different type of dance. He had conceitedly believed he would conquer her heart in a glance. Yet unexpectedly, he needed to lure her with the same intensity she had just made him feel, for she did not fall under his charm easily. It was a great sin to have a mind as evil-like as his, but what goodness is found in this world that he could not enjoy of. Therefore he had chosen himself as bait to weaken the souls that should fall in is trap or so his thoughts whispered. The orchestra number had ended and she was free to take from. He left his place by the trinket-framed bar. His glass cup was taken away by the barkeeper and a slight gray-colored fog appeared on the bar table. Little drops of water surrounded that small area and the bar tender immediately wiped them away. The shelves were of an intricate sheen of oak and a sapphire carpet rugged below the counter. Devronne’s interest were of the beautiful girl though and the bar’s display unnoticeable for the moment. He smoothly strolled towards the table in which she and her fiancé, Alexander Beauchamp, were seated. Asking with immense grace-like tactfulness he begged a dance with her. To say no would be rude, so with a devilish smile he escorted her to the ballroom floor. Devronne slipped a hand under her arm and rested it on the indentation of her back. She started at the touch of his palm on her mid-lower column, and wondered about his smile. Then watched him anxiously waited for the musical piece to begin, while hegrabbed her hand and held it tightly in his. A sudden heat rose in him having her body so close to his. She seemed not to notice his discomfort as he tried to hide the hunger surging inside. The trumpet gave a blow and the music began. All the dancers began to move in a pirouette circling the empty center of the floor. They moved fast and tiring, but he was determined that she not leave his arms quite yet. He wanted her to soften towards him and began with simple pleasant conversation. “How long have you been here?” he asked. He chuckled in his head. He’d seen her and her fiancé’s carriage arrive and knew how long they’d been here. If he was not mistaken it was close to two months by three days. She lifted her head to look at him and was startled to hear the deep sensual voice. His eyes had raked her so across the floor earlier as they did now. She turned her gaze away, cleared her throat which had gone dry and peered at him once more. “Alex and I arrived from New York almost two months ago. He and I have decided to create a life here in Willosbur. He mentioned to me that the meadows were so green and tempting to lie upon and he knows how I love the earth. After this, I could not resist the thought to see for my self. I feel now, like I have been here before and I could swear looking at the grass it made my arms itch to feel them again, as if I knew how it was to be among the meadows.” She blushed a becoming pink, “but of course I could not have known. I have never been here before” A warning flag flashed through Devronne’s brain. Kathleen was gaining her memory back. Albeit not as quickly, but surely it would be a short while before it all returned to her head. Then she would want to know about her family and she would learn about him. He needed a quicker plan to separate her from “Alex”. He would think on it tonight. In the meantime he would need her trust. She had spoken about meadows and earthly things. He had an abundance of flowers and grass at his home. “I have a beautiful home not far from a lake. The meadows are grassy and sprouting. I would be most thrilled to show you and your fiancé this private spot to further convince you Willowsbur is the place to live.” She nodded her head, and he realized she was tired. She had danced the entire night. He waited a while longer and when her head began to lie to the side and her humphs indicated exhaustion, he asked her if she wished to rest. She did not hesitate to nod her head. Returning Kathleen to her table he pulled out a chair and kissed her hand an adieu. “What made you return? I thought my bride-to-be was a bride-to-be-lost,” Alex chuckled a bit and held her hand in his, caressing the big diamond surrounded by golden flowers and petals on her ring finger, “I wonder about us and this wedding and I’m glad I found you. I’m a very lucky man” She smiled a teary smile and he kissed her cheek. No Alex, she thought, I am the lucky one. Devronne had witnessed the scene from afar. His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. Inside he flamed with anger, clenching his hands tighter. The wine glass between his fingers snapped but he didn’t take notice. “Yes,” he could barely speak through his lips “tonight is a night to make plans.” To be continued...
Copyright © 2002 Jackie Sheppard |