~ The Keepers ~

by

H. L. Chandler

London, England--June 6, 1865

Nelly Milton lay on a smooth marble slab, her mind foggy and dazed. She had a vague memory of the tingling chill that had raced across her shoulders when they first touched the icy stone. The sensation had brought a dim awareness that quickly faded. Now the hard surface, warmed by her body, was no longer cold.

Nelly’s head rolled to one side. Her eyelids fluttered and, heavy as weighted gates, finally lifted. It took several minutes to focus and even then, a gauze-like, misty fog clouded her eyes. She made a feeble attempt to move but her arms and legs were stiff and unresponsive. Confused, and searching for the reason, Nelly gazed down the length of her right arm. At the wrist was a twisted binding of red velvet and her mind, fuzzy as her vision, sent a hazy signal to cease the struggle; "for lor" if it wasn’t silly when a body was hand and foot tied down.

The restraining velvet ropes stirred up the first tinge of true fear. Still…mightn’t it be a dream? Oh, glory yes. That must be the way of it. In a few seconds, the scary nightmare would stop and she’d come wide-awake to find Robert beside her; both of them rosy with sleep under a white muslin sheet that smelled of mown hay and bright sunshine. Then, from his cradle in the corner, Christopher would cry; hungry for her breast as he had been the whole six months of his precious life. Nelly swallowed and lay waiting. Waiting with every nerve now honed to exquisite sharpness. Waiting for the dark eerie scene to fade.

It did not.

She was in the center of a large cavern. A line of blazing sconces hung against the gray stone walls. The light shed by the flames turned the chamber to a flickering orange, red, and black. To her bewildered senses, now further crazed by an awful growing dread, it appeared the antechamber of hell. Several feet out from the wall stood a half circle of ten chairs: high-backed, Tudor-style upholstered in rich red velvet. The chairs stood empty suggesting a coming judgment, and all of Nelly’s past sins crowded in upon her.

Every minute Nelly became more aware, while a swirling black panic threatened to sweep away any sensible thoughts. She clenched her teeth and shook her head, which, indeed, was all she could move.

"Get hold on yourself, Nell," she scolded. Nothing was ever gained using a head filled with feathers. Some terrible thing has happened, but Robert will know and won’t he just cause a proper dust-up! That’s the right road now, think of Robert and how he’ll be a hunting, turn the city end over end, he will. Still, it didn’t mean lying stiff as a corset stay, not even trying to work free.

Nelly strained and jerked against the velvet ropes; they held fast. Nelly was strong and healthy, she never failed in any task she undertook, but now fear sapped that strength. Being helplessly bound on the marble platform forced tears of despair and frustration to slip down her smooth, round cheeks. She kept a kerchief in the pocket of her everyday blue ticken dress. Her wet trickling tears made her wish for it.

Suddenly her back stiffened as if some nasty and clammy thing were sliding down between her shoulder blades. She was not wearing her own clothes. Her arms and shoulders were bare; the black silk began just at the curve of her full, milk-swollen breast and covered to her trembling ankles. An elegant, indecent shroud. Shame and panic took her by turns. Her feet, free of the rough, round-toed shoes, tingled in their vulnerable state. Oh God, she promised, never again would she wish for fine or fancy clothes. The coarse cheap cloth of her dress and the heavy, chafing shoes were blessing enough.

Her exposed condition, like a fierce wind, blew away the last clouds leaving her mind raw and alive to the horror of her situation. An unbidden scream ripped from her throat and slammed against the stone and mortar walls that echoed back the depths of her fear. Then, another cry rang in the cavern piercing Nelly’s lingering scream.

Christopher’s warm, lusty crying rolled out in heavy waves freezing Nelly’s heart. Instantly an all-consuming terror sent icy blood pounding through her veins. She jerked her head to the left twisting to see over the corner of the marble slab. In the hollowed out, cradle-like, middle of a low stone Christopher waved his tiny fists and pumped his chubby knees up and down. Nelly wildly bucked and fought against the bonds. A prickling sweat popped out from her crown to her soles, every inch of her skin was set burning as if it were being jabbed with a million red-hot needles.

"Hush now. Oh hushabye, Christy. Your Mam is here." Nelly spoke through lips dry as winter leaves.

Christopher paused a moment but then, without the comfort of her lifting arms, set forth another howling insistent cry. Despite her panic Nelly’s body instinctively responded; wet circles widened on the tight black silk stretched across her breast. In a frenzied surge Nelly lunged and strained to break free while only Christopher’s small voice kept the madness at bay.

Finally, limp and drained, Nelly fell back against the hateful stone with a strangling, bitter sob. She was caught in a ring of blazing blue-white fear and her heart pounded on near to bursting. The flesh on her bones shriveled to a quivering helpless mass leaving just mind and tongue capable of movement.

"Our Father in Heaven, look down upon us in mercy. Hear us, Oh Lord, in this our hour of need..."