Love and Betrayal

Word Count: 2,060

Love and Betrayal

Chapter 1

Amelia Elizabeth Johnson was born April 20, 1768, much to her parents’ delight.  Obviously a son would have been preferable, but a beautiful girl of a well off family in a small village would be able to marry well.

Amelia was a strange child.  She never cared much for socializing, being more of a recluse.  Her friends, for lack of a better word, never went out of their way to speak to her.  Yes, she was a strange child.  On more than one occasion, her father or mother found her in the large garden, writing strange names and symbols in the dirt.  She never allowed them to see what she wrote, but they knew it could be nothing good.  No little girl wrote such things in the dirt when she could be learning needlework.  In order to protect their daughter, they vowed to never tell another soul of these incidents.  They feared the words of witchcraft and devil, and knew if their child’s activities were discovered, these words would be applied to her.  Amelia was no longer allowed to spend time alone in the garden. 

As the years wore on, a great Revolution came and went, and young Amelia grew into a beautiful young lady.  Her golden hair was thick and strong, and never looked horrible, no matter the style it was fashioned in.  She was not a tall woman but not short either.  Her face was envied by every girl her age, and envied by the mothers of these girls.  Indeed she was a fetching lady, so when Mr. Harold Barkley took notice of her, it was only a matter of time before an official proposal was made.

Mr. Harold Barkley was a wealthy merchant’s son and stood to inherit a fortune and a business upon the death of his father, which, if the rumors in the village could be believed, would be anytime now.  But it was not simply the wealth that made him an engaging man, it was his appearance.  His dark hair and piercing blue eyes set on a stunning figure were nothing short of magnificent.  He was a man that was desired by the many unwed ladies in the village and not a few married ones.  It was fate when he first set eyes on Miss Amelia Johnson.

Mr. Barkley was a well educated man but also conceited.  He assumed that, since he loved himself, then everyone else did as well, thus he had no scruples when deciding to court Miss Amelia.

It was a bright sunny morning when Mr. Barkley called at the Johnson residence.  Miss Amelia, though loathing the hypocrisy of elite in the village, was flattered, as every woman should be when such a well off man shows an interest in her.  In fact, she was nothing short of delighted.

The relationship escalated quickly, and within a few short weeks, the village was buzzing with the news that Mr. Barkley had proposed to the strange Johnson girl.  Amelia was perfectly content to marry Mr. Barkley until General Parsons returned home to the village.

General Parsons was a local hero of the small village.  A general in the American Revolution, he was a man worthy of great respect and possessed great wealth, as fortune would have it.  The girls who had been angry with Amelia’s engagement to Mr. Barkley quickly moved on to a new target, leaving Amelia, thankfully, in peace.

The date was set and fast approaching.  The bride to be seemed to float on air, happier than she had ever been before, until General Parsons came to call on her father.  Her father, being a successful carpenter, was known for his skill.  The general came to inquire of him whether he could perhaps build a new chair for his sister, who had just had a baby, and was in dire need of one, and would he please have it procured as quickly as possible.

Miss Amelia happened to be in her father’s shop on the day General Parsons entered to discuss employing her father for this venture.  He did not seem to take great notice of her, given that she was engaged, but as he left the shop, he gave her a searching and knowing look, then smiled.  Amelia’s stomach fell to the floor.

In that instant she hated everything and everyone.  She hated her parents, her life, her “friends,” her soon to be husband, and most of all, General Parsons.  With that one searching look, he had destroyed everything she had worked to keep up.  Her normal façade put on for the sake of the people around her, her engagement, it was all in shambles.  He had completely stripped every defense she had and she now lay bare to him.  He had seen through her, seen how she did not love or want Mr. Barkley, seen how she despised her parents, her friends, her life.  He had completely demolished everything.

This realization had taken only seconds, but Amelia felt fifty years older.  In the weeks to come, she would meet with General Parsons in private as often as possible.  Whispered words of love and promises, brief kisses and passionate ones, and longing, always longing, passed between them.  Her forthcoming marriage loomed over her future.  What had weeks before been a happy thought was now one to be dreaded. 

Amelia was desperate for a solution to her problem.  Breaking the engagement was absolutely out of the question.  The less people knew of her issue, the better.  They could run away, just disappear into the American wilderness and never look back, but that was not an option either.  Her father was well respected, and a search party of volunteers would be sent after them.  The searchers would find them within a few days.  She would be forced back into the pompous arms of Mr. Barkley, and her lover would be shot in the woods, most likely by her father, and left for the vultures while she floated down the aisle to a life of superficial happiness.

Amelia retreated once again to her garden, a place she had not been allowed to visit alone since she had been a child, thanks to her parents.  They had thought her time spent in the garden was dark and troublesome, but in actuality, it had been a benign time.  She had used this special spot to think up stories and friends and adventures.  Even after all the time away, they still remained within the garden, waiting for her return, but now they whispered dark and ominous thoughts to her. 

She sat in the sun, letting it warm her cold skin, trying to determine what she was going to do about the entire marriage debacle, when her friends showed her the only clear and present option.  With great haste, she called a servant to invite Mr. Barkley for tea, and then went to her father’s prized knife collection hidden in the parlor.  No one but the servants and the family knew of its existence.  She surveyed the knives and settled on a small but lethal carving knife, perfect for the job she was going to need it for.  She picked it up and hid it in the folds of her dress.

Mr. Barkley appeared at the door in what seemed to be record time, or perhaps it was just nerves that made it seem so.  After tea, Amelia invited him to take a stroll in the garden with her.  They discussed the wedding and the future, wandering aimlessly.  Amelia spoke to him calmly, and the hours passed.

The couple turned onto a footpath they had not yet taken, coming upon an old dried up well.  The well, as fortune would have it, was in a secluded spot, and Amelia seized her chance.  She had thought it out carefully.  A cut to the neck or wrist would bleed profusely, but a knife between the ribs would cause limited blood, thus the likelihood of her being caught decreased considerably.

Without thinking about the possible repercussions of her actions, she pulled the knife from her dress the second Mr. Barkley turned to examine the old well, and plunged the knife into his stomach.  He did not cry out, but looked at her in shock, his air cut off.  She had pierced his lung.

Amelia looked at him remorselessly, waiting for him to be done.  He reached out and grasped her arm, whispering something that she could not decipher.  He fell to the ground, gasping for air.  Amelia stood over him and watched the light die from his blue eyes.

Amelia grabbed him by the feet and dragged him into the bushes to hide him, and then tossed the small knife down the dry well.  She inspected her clothes, making sure they did not show any dirt or blood, and then hastened to the house.  Her father inquired after Mr. Barkley, and Amelia quickly concocted a tail of him suddenly being called to home.

Later that night, with the house asleep, Amelia snuck out to the garden.  The body was stiff, cold, and heavy.  She contemplated her possibilities with a disturbing coolness.  Finally, she decided to wrap him in an old horse blanket from the stables.

The stable smelled of hay and horses and dust, but it was pleasant enough to clear her head.  She rummaged through the many horse blankets and found a dilapidated one that had not been used for at least a decade.  She grabbed it, as well as a lamp full of oil, and quickly returned to the garden.

Amelia wrapped Mr. Barkley up in the blanket and dragged him down to the small stream which bordered the property.  The lamp was perched precariously in the crook of her arm.  Had the foliage been thinner, she would have risked exposure.  The stream was small yet had a strong current, and the rippling sounds of water soothed Amelia’s mind.  She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the water and dirt and plants.  Her thoughts were clear once more, and she hurriedly began to go about her business.  She poured the oil on the blanket, about to set it aflame, when a glint caught her eye through a hole in the fabric.

Amelia removed the ring, studying it, and absentmindedly touched the flame to the blanket.  It burned instantly and quickly.  Amelia heard a cackling from behind her.  She turned quickly, dropping the ring. She saw no one.  The wind blew through the leaves of the garden, and she heard it again.  Her old friends rejoiced, and a dark primal part of Amelia swelled within her and rejoiced as the fire continued to burn.

The smell of burnt flesh brought a stinging vomit to the back of her throat, but she remained to make sure the job was finished, adding bits of dry wood to the pyre.  Amelia felt days must have passed before the fire finally simmered down.  Grabbing a large stick, she pushed what remained of the body into the stream and let the current wash the bones away.  It was not until after she returned to the house that she remembered the dropped ring.  Panic gripped her, and she started back into the garden as a massive lightning bolt ripped across the sky followed by the loudest clap of thunder she had ever heard.  Amelia stood, looking up at the sky, and smiled as rain fell from the heavens. 

The gushing torrents of water flowed into the stream, picking up the ring, and destroying all evidence of the pyre.  Mr. Barkley had never been there.

Two days after this incident, the constable received a worried report from Mr. Barkley’s friends and fiancé.  He had not returned home after leaving the Johnson residence.  A large investigation of the Johnson family ground was conducted but nothing telling was found.  After two months with no answered questions, it was concluded the local beggar, who had been seen with Mr. Barkley’s signet ring, had murdered the gentleman in order to acquire the ring.  The beggar insisted he had found it washed up on the stream’s banks and said the investigators should look for Mr. Barkley in the water.  He was hanged and Mr. Barkley’s case was considered closed.

Six months after the beggar’s execution, Miss Amelia Elizabeth Johnson was wed to General Parsons.