Mr. Pemensmith corners Miss. Wiltshire in the library. Dozens of books serve as an illiterative backdrop for what would be a most disastrous conversation.

“Mr. Pemensmith you must let me go, I will not marry you sir for love nor money.”

“Miss. Wiltshire it is not your decision to make, I have settled the dowry with your father and we are to be wed before Christmas. You are a woman and more importantly, you are to be my woman. My wife and dare I say … slave.”

“You dare not!”

“Oh, but I do Miss. Wiltshire, oh, but I do.”

A wicked grin befalls the face of the grotesque elderly man. He licks his lips, savouring the thought of having a young maid to be his wife. But Miss. Wiltshire was not without her own tricks.

“I may have no choice, but to marry you, but I must remind you, one cannot marry a dead man.”

Mr. Pemensmith looks uncertain as he allows the arm that is pinning Miss. Wiltshire in place to slump slightly. She takes the opportunity to sink her teeth into his wrist causing an almighty howl of pain.

Once distracted she slips past him and hitches up her dress to reveal a dagger tied to her thigh with a ribbon.

Mr. Pemensmith laughs at the sight and proclaims “you couldn’t wait till the wedding night to show me your garter.”

As he’s distracted by the knife he feels a hand grab his neck from behind. He begins to choke as he claws at his throat gasping for air, until he stops gasping and breathing altogether.

Mr. Pemensmith drops to the floor like a stone and Miss. Wiltshire smiles warmly at the man standing behind the bookcase looking out from a gap on a shelf.

“My love.” She whispers as the man disappears from view before making his way round to embrace her.

“I love you Emilia” he takes her by the hands.

“And I you Jack, but…” she takes a step back.

“My love?” Jack asks with concern.

Emelia turns away from him and a tear rolls down her delicate cheek.

“I regret to say that I love another.”

“Who is he!” Jack demands.

“Not a he.” A voice preludes a beautiful woman as she steps out from behind another bookcase.

“Miss. Pemensmith! Daughter of Mr. Pemensmith!” Jack exclaims.

“No!” She smiles as she takes Emilia’s arm in hers.

“My name is Mrs. Louisa Pemensmith-Wiltshire. You’ve already met my wife Mrs. Emelia Wiltshire-Pemensmith.”

Jack’s mouth drops agape.

“Wife? How can this be? There is no church that would allow such … such heathenry!”

“No church would,” Emelia smiles as she loosens her collar to reveal the shape of a pentagram attached to a chain round her neck. “That is, no Christian church.”

Jack holds his hand up to his mouth in horror, but before he can respond Louisa lifts up her wife’s dress and grabs the dagger before throwing it at Jack’s throat. He too falls to the ground beside the deceased Mr. Pemensmith.

“Oh, Louisa,” Emelia smiles as she places a tender hand to her wife’s cheek. “Thank you my love.”

“You are very welcome” Louisa responds as she leans in for a kiss, but as their lips graze slightly she gasps as crimson blood escapes her wet lips.

Emelia sighs as she pulls the knife out of Louisa’s stomach. “I could have found true happiness with you. I thought I would my love, but I am nobodies fool, I know all about you courting that rake!” She screams as she points the bloody knife down at Jack.

“But … I chose you” Louisa cries out as her legs give out on her and she slides down to the floor.

Emelia lifts her chin up with flare as she looks out to the vast library.

“And I choose myself.”