Bald Head Island: Chapter 5
My Dear Cousin Chauncey,
It is true that Fortune may wax or wane, but I know of one thing that is constant: the most beautiful flowers harbor the deadliest poison. Is it not true that the deadly nightshade is also the belladonna, the lovely lady? Is it also not true that the innocent lily of the valley is the vessel of a poison most deadly? Likewise my lovely Emily nurtures a venomous serpent at her heart roots, and it has stung me most cruelly with its fangs, casting me into depths of the darkest sorrow and despair.
Yesterday morning a boy surprised me at my quarters with a billet-doux from the object of my deepest affection, my darling Emily. In it she expressed her deep fondness for me, and asked if I would be her guest at a social event to be held at the observatory that evening. Needless to say, I was delighted and sent the boy on his way with my acceptance note and a few coins for his trouble.
The observatory, situated on the highest point of the island, is famous for its great reflector telescope, which I of course could not care less about. Instead I imagined watching the starry sky with my Emily, as the moonlight gently caressed the ocean waves below.
As one of the ladies hosting the event Emily had left for the observatory ahead of me, and when I arrived the party was already underway, and rather livelier than I had imagined. Emily was nowhere to be seen, and after a while I became anxious and inquired about her whereabouts. Edward Lippincott, eldest son of one of the partners in Lippincott & Plum, heard me asking about Emily and took me to aside. Lippincott told me that Emily had asked to meet me in a small office located just below the main telescope mirror. Carried on the wings of Cupid I hurried there.
As I had hoped Emily was there, but much to my surprise so were Anschutz and Flaubert. Emily was seated on an operating table, wearing nothing more than a white gown that was open in the front, revealing her tender flesh in all its feminine splendor. She was still like a marble statue, staring blankly into the distance, and not acknowledging my presence in the room in any way.
The Frenchman Flaubert told me that he had noticed my interest in Emily, but feared the depth of my feelings were not fully appreciated or reciprocated, or at the very least not noticed by the object of my desire. It was indeed he who had sent me the invitation and arranged this meeting.
It was then that I noticed the trepanation wound on Emily’s scalp and the wires sticking out of it. Anschutz and Flaubert had planted a device inside Emily’s skull! I was overcome with horror and disgust at their heinous act. My first reaction was to run away from there, but it would mean abandoning a defenseless Emily in the hands of those two madmen. Therefore I kept a straight face when Anschutz placed a strange looking apparatus in my hands, and with a knowing wink told me that Emily was under my total control, and that I should not hesitate to take advantage of the situation to the fullest extent. With that the two fiends left the room and I was alone with Emily.
I did not know what to do. The furthest thing on my mind was to hurt or defile this lovely flower in any way. But how could I help her exit the nightmare? I was at a loss what to do or where to turn for help, and gently placed the apparatus on the table next to her. In doing so I must have accidentally touched some lever or button, for her arm moved suddenly, reaching for me. Horrified I withdrew, but she followed me, moving in the stiff manner of a somnambulist. I looked at the apparatus trying trying to make sense of the controls in an effort to make her still, but each control that I tried only made her approach more deliberate. She tore off the gown and threw herself on me, sighing and moaning. I tossed away the apparatus, extracted myself from her ecstatic caresses, and ran for the door.
Before I could exit the door opened and Montague, Lippincott, Anschutz, Flaubert and several others entered the room laughing and jeering. Emily removed the mock device from her head and joined in the general amusement. It was all an elaborate trap set to make a fool out of me, and I had fallen for the artifice in the most spectacular manner! Montague praised me for being a true Southern gentleman, and then berated me for denying them the amorous sport they had hoped to watch.
Although I was seething inside I decided to keep a good humor outwardly. After all, the famous saying is that revenge is a dish best enjoyed cold.
Soon bottles of absinthe and a gramophone were brought in, some ladies joined us, and the festivities carried on until sunrise.
Upon returning to my quarters my soul was reeling from intense feelings of heartbreak, betrayal, anger, humiliation, sadness, self loathing and stupidity mixed together in a single confused potpourri of emotions that not even Mrs. Spencer’s expert ministrations were able ameliorate.
Contemplating several ways to get even, I remain yours etc. etc. etc.
Charles B. Beauregard