Nicholas Vials: The Case Of Michael Vials

16 years ago

Heavy rainfall flooded the alleys. The people rushed to their homes and many sought protection from the downpour. It started as a slight drizzle but escalated into a heavy shower. In a matter of minutes, the streets were empty. The water sprayed the trees as they swayed along with the breeze.

Although in this noise and downpour, Marilyn walked down the street. Her dress was drenched. Her basket was full of bread, raw meat and eggs, all that was damp. Marilyn realised that the bread was not worth the weight, now that it was mushy flour once more.

But it was these minor annoyances that vexed Marilyn. Her hair, which was perfectly made into a taut bun, was now rough and messily clung to her face. While her creaseless dress was now cold and had been too heavy to carry. And it tired her to think that there was such a long-distance home.

She rubbed her shoulder in discomfort while clutching the basket, shivering from the winter frost. Her stomach growled in hunger.

The rain swiveled into thundering hail, and it stung Marilyn's body wherever it touched. The noise in the street intensified from the showers and the gust of wind became stronger.

This heightened her irritation, and she whimpered silently. Her mind trailed to every event of the day and she felt lost. Nothing had been in her control.

Lost in her thoughts, she did not hear a car roll about. The tires squealed meekly, their material slipping from the cold. The clumping of the car as it moved was loud enough as it was yet she didn't pay much attention, she was fixated on her journey until she heard a youthful and heavy call distorted by the noise of rain.

"Excuse me, Madam". the driver called, his voice slightly weak. Warmth left him as he spoke and his hands holding the leather became difficult to hold on to in such cold. "This isn't a very pleasant stride. If you are not far from here, I could assist you along with your venture" he informed her. He felt uneasy watching her stroll about, even covered by his cars rooftop.

"I don't carry change" she replied coldly, without making any stops. The driver once fully halted, now started walking his horses to match the speed of the woman.

"I don't want change Madam', I'd be happy to help as is." he became louder, sounding slightly offended.

She looked at him with utter surprise and turned to see the mystery man. She could not quite as so glimpse at his stature under the fog.

"I fear I would inconvenience you, kind sir, I don't bring any money" she returned. Perhaps it was that he was used to a more kinder response but he felt taken aback.

"No, you mistake my intention, I wish to be of help," he told in an amiable tone hoping to seem less threatening.

"I still do not deem myself to be troubled as much as you will be" she replied.

"Oh, no!" he assured "I have to travel a little distant from here, I hope I'd take you to the end of the street at least, it is far too cold!" He spoke a little louder.

"I deem myself capable to walk myself to the end of the street."

"I see" he spoke slightly puzzled "I'd be happy to help you head home if that's the case."

"I do not mean to trouble you, For a busy man, A woman heading home is the least of his worries," she retorted.

"Certainly not! A busy man is incompatible with a man with a chivalrous cause" he sounded boastful.

"I believe you waste your time in your chivalrous cause" she fired.

"I believe you waste your time in your act of modesty" he retaliated.

With a gust of strong wind, she staggered sideways. The hail thumped against her figure, making her skin sting. The icy orbs made her lose her posture.

"Madam, My intention is only to help you! it is the coldest winter in years, you will surely be sick by the end of your walk!" he shouted over the heavy noise of the shower.

And with a moment of reluctance, she climbed the carriage, clutching tightly to her basket. And the steed was piped to ride past the street.

A shiver still rippled through her. As she entered the carriage, a warmth enveloped her. Her heavily drenched dress held her in place. And yet as she entered, the humid atmosphere in the carriage had calmed her. Her posture fell, her breathing still heavy. Her body fell against the warmth of the seat below her and she inhaled deeply. The heavy shower was now gone, her back against the walls of the carriage, waiting for the cold of her fabric to dry away. But she avoided any talk with the gallant young man who had come to her aid.

"Where do you live?" he questioned.

A moment of uncertainty arose in her.

"Oh no! I'll not trouble you to such an extent. I'll be fine if you could drop me to the end of the street" she shouted rather aggressively.

"I don't mind" was all she heard. He didn't push her anymore.

"I do not know the street" she replied after a while.

"You were walking with such determination, one wouldn't think that you'd be lost?" said he, bewildered.

"You are mistaken, I am not aware of the name of the street in which I reside. Although, I navigate it correctly."

"I see, though I believe I can be helped in navigating it then?" he replied.

And she did. They piloted as such and he immediately recognized it as the Gregory Austen boulevard. And she felt his familiarity with the streets of Edmundale.

After a stretched moment of silence, he spoke.

"Madam, I must say, unaccompanied in these streets during this winter, to decline a helping hand is quite unintelligent"

"There is no reason to take help from mere stranger. Likewise, there is no reason to waste your time being gallant to a stranger"

"Some might think it as such, Although there is no lost cause in helping a visitor. This is a dangerous place, surrounded by thieves. All the moneyed live by here. They need an opportunity to barrage. it is not, shall I say, the favourite place of leisure for a visitor" was all he said.

"How do you know I am a visitor?"

"Well," he declared "Am I mistaken?"

"No," she said hesitantly "you are not".

"I am aware of every resident in this small society. A new face is always a foreigner."

"And What a fickle memory to have lived here for long yet not know the name of the street you live in" he ridiculed.

Marilyn cracked a smile.

"Pardon my tongue, not many like my humour" he asserted.

"It is quite alright. It is always nicest to be in the company of a cheery society than that of a reserved company."

"That, by far has been the most proper conversation I have had with you" he replied, in an amiable tone.

She cracked a wider smile. Her back turned away from the window of the back of the stranger.

"My name is James" he tried again " after the poet James Vovet, I am sure you have heard of him, a very good man, my father was fond of him" he tried to make conversation.

"Marilyn" she returned.

"James Sterne," He repeated quietly. As though she would be oblivious to what he said.

"I see no reason why under such thunders, you decided to stroll about". He said. His lively discussion had a sense of acquaintanceship although there was none.

"I did not do so out of leisure. Rather out of need. Unlike you who I suppose took a stroll to find strangers to assist". She said harshly.

"Oh no! I too am coincidentally here for duty. I thought why not help a young lady out? After all, we both walk rather the same path" he said, not taking any offence.

The car staggered as it ran over the hail and the roof thudded by the strong blows of the storm.

"I come from the marketplace near Edmundale," he said though she wasn't aware of the city she lived in. " The gentleman I work for goes away for his business often with his other coach."

"Are you his personal driver? Quite aware of these streets you are, I had taken you for being a regular coachman" she asked him. Ultimately making mutual conversation with regard.

"Yes, he does confide in me with household issues. I manage errands for the mistress and such. I presume you work too?"

"Yes," she replied "Yes, I do"

"Well, I assume there are stomachs to feed too?"

"No," she said rather abruptly.

"Oh, well in such a neighborhood, a lone woman is not safe"

"I find myself safe," she replied calmly.

"Well I hope you do find yourself safe," he said sheepishly. and at that, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

"is your house distant down the road?" he asked.

"I shall take my leave here," she said.

"I would mind hauling you down the street if you do need further assistance, Miss Manning" he offered.

"I wouldn't want to trouble you more" she declined with sincerity. And climbed down the car.

"I wouldn't be troubled," said the coachman.

When the blur of the rain had been away, and she could see greater distances, she saw a young man with striking emerald eyes. His complexion was fair yet uneven. His arched nose had turned red with the cold. and everything except his blonde hair had been touched by the dismal rain.

"But I would be," she said and turned away to walk down the street without turning back.

"What an ill-tempered woman," he thought to himself.

"What an overconfident man!" she thought, feeling negatively affected. Frustrated and relieved at his leave, she thought only of how grateful she was for his gallantry to have helped her. And in the empty cold air, she could easily go home to the hungry mouths she had to sustain.

He turned away from the street. To head his way. And thoughts were soon occupied by other occurrences.

When he did find his destination, he left his car in the highway and peeked through the window to find a basket filled with damp bread and raw meat.

And he found a reason to revisit his new acquaintance.