Something Evil Comes.

[cgraven]

Her father turned from the man with a stern but acquiescent nod. He made his way pass the dustmen and collection agents back into the Georgian Limestone of Copley Way.

Dearest Lizbeth come my dear girl our troubles will soon be over. There was a look of hope in his grey eyes and not for the first time he let them secretly take in the charms of the dark haired beauty that was his daughter. The reddish highlights of her chestnut hair, which spoke of a simmering passions behind the soft doe eyes. Her trim little waist that drew the eye to the flare of her hips, and the swell of her breast, so young and firm like firm succulent pears so ripe for the picking.
“ I have arranged for you to spend some time with the "Order of the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe". At Sir Francis Dashwood estate. You shall assit in the education of his young wards under the friars’ guidance, and when things have settled a bit, you shall come home.”

He pressed a kiss to her sweet ripe lips and then slowly let his lips slip from his daughters.

“And the present unpleasantness will be just a memory my dearest.”

A week Later Lizbeth with a small traveling bag that contained all her worldly possessions Was being driven north from London out into the country side in a small dogcart seated beside a very grim and silent coachman. The silence and the jarring road continued in stony silence for two hours till the little dogcart crested a hill and Lizbeth caught her first sight of Thélème Abbey. A low white washed collection of buildings that were as much a fortress as a country home. The gates yawed wide to take the young beauty into the confines of the inner court. As they passed through the gates there was a motto inscribed above the portal

Fais ce que tu voudras

Little did the young innocent know that it translated to Do what thou wilt or that she had entered the confines of the infamous Hell Fire Club. It was whispered in the highest of circles that this club was rumored to be the meeting places of "persons of quality" who wished to take part in immoral acts, and the members were often very involved in politics. Neither the activities nor membership of the club are easy to ascertain.


Upon her arrival the young beauty was conducted to the study of Sir Francis Dashwood. He let her stand there in bathed in the afternoon light before lifting his dark hazel eyes to hers.

"And You ARE?"

 

[wideeyedone]

Lizbeth was still chilled from her journey. She dusted off her skirt.
"Sir, I am Lizbeth Dalton, my father is Henry Dalton. He said there was an arrangement. He was sparse on the details, but I am well versed in literature and music. However, he assured me that you were going to help him." Her voice was soft and honeyed as she spoke. She tucked an errant tendril of hair back behind her ears. "I am very tired from the journey, I was wondering if you might have a place for me to freshen up, Sir."

Her dark eyes surveyed the room. The room was very sumptuous, a thick oriental carpet covered the lovely stone floor. The furniture was leather and velvet over exotic dark woods. "I didn't see any children on the grounds. Are they at their lessons now? I very much look forward to meeting the pupils." Lizbeth curled one of her fingers into her hair. The nervous habit was one of her father's pet peeves.

Sir Dashwood looked ominous to her. She wished that she was back at home. She wished that her father had not gambled them into ruin. She wished she was still engaged to Charles. She wished for all of these things and yet she knew they would never come to pass. Her best hope was to be a good employee to this Sir Dashwood and do her best to educate her young charges.