W.D.L Diamond

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The Unexpected: A Tale of Dystopian Opulence

Set in 1895 at the Smythe Estate, Cathryn endures George’s oppressive ‘Re-Education’ for four years after her failed rescue. Despite her submissive compliance, George’s cruelty remains relentless, often punishing her in front of their children, Elizabeth and Lydia. On an outing to London, contrasting their sheltered life, the girls react differently to the bustling city.…

W.D.L Diamond
17–26 minutes
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The Unexpected

Introduction:

1895
The Smythe Estate, along the River Thames

Screams had long tapered off leaving only the heavy, suffocating silence that was broken only by an occasional whimper – it was 4-Years into what George had deemed as Cathryn’s ‘Re-Education’ following Xian’s failed effort to rescue her in 1891.
Cathryn had made every effort to not incur his wrath, but she quickly discovered it mattered very little whether she simply did as commanded or resisted – though resistance came less and less over the years, but it was clear that George simply wanted to hurt her.

Punishments and ‘Re-Education’ were not simply confined within the ‘privacy’ of her room, but deliberately performed in front of witnesses, horrifyingly, even in the presence of Elizabeth and Lydia; while Elizabeth aligned more towards George, it was her little miniature; Lydia, that remained her sole source of comfort, it had not gone unnoticed.

As Cathryn found herself laying rigid on her bed, her breath ragged – throat raw, and voice broken by the weight of screams and cries, she just tried to make herself as small as possible; only moving once she heard the click of the door, before falling from her bed, the usual ritual once George’s sessions ended, purposely pulling covers from the bed to cover her frame from exposure, usually, she would simply cry herself to sleep on the floor – this time would be different, as she lay on the floor, she simply stared through teary-blurred eyes unable to make herself move until the weak morning sun filtered through the curtains.

Finally, she would move.

Chapter 1:

As the morning light uncurled over the Smythe Estate, it revealed a blend of dystopian opulence, a land encircled by a large protective wall and single gated entrance, filled by tree’s that reached like skeletal hands towards the pale morning sky, while the fog crawled across the Estate from the Thames River; at its heart – the Smythe Manor, its dark stone and Victorian Gothic opulence, stone gargoyles watching over the estate like silent watchers.

At the heart of the grand manor, Cathryn moved like a ghost, her movements stiff and pained as she laid silverware, every little clink seemed to sound louder than it actually was, her eyes unblinking as she simply stared forwards, her mind blank, she had not slept, not properly rested since the night’s ‘session’ with George, there was still streaks on her face that she had made no effort to clean; it didn’t make a difference.
As she set out the final plate, something finally drew her attention, it caused her to blink and raise her head up, her hair gently swinging at her movement – her eyes locking instantly towards the window.

It was usual to see staff walking by – but the figure she had just spotted seemed to be making a genuine effort to hide his presence; it had not purely been just the ‘flicker’ of movement that drew her eyes, but a sense long since buried beneath her pain and misery.

She saw a figure purposely trying to move out of view, catching a glimpse of the flat cap he pulled down.

Before she could decipher the likelihood of a threat, a voice cut through like a whip “Cathryn” she instantly froze at the familiar commanding voice of her husband; that clipped, yet heavy aristocratic voice that had once convinced her into marriage but now swam inside her head like an insidious poison, her breathing immediately increased, turning her head quickly – her long raven-dark hair whipped around – her silvery-grey eyes landing on the source.

George Smythe.

In the doorway his broad frame filled the space, his hands casually positioned behind his back as he stood in that regal posture he also had; his blonde hair impeccably groomed, and his icy-blue eyes devoid of any warmth as he locked onto her silvery-grey.

“You look at me when I speak to you” he commanded, a low rumble of absolute authority lacing his voice – he saw the way her chest rose and fell with her increased breathing, she felt the looming oppressive air he brought wherever he went, the look of fear that refused to leave her expression as she kept looking at him “I intend to travel today my dear; and, as a treat for being so devoted as of late, I intend to bring you on a rare outing along with the girls”

Cathryn’s eyes widened a fraction, she felt her throat tighten – what should have been a sense of relief, brought only a cold chill instead – the tone, the smooth, calculating words laced with danger she couldn’t name only served to heighten her apprehension, but then something else ran through her mind ‘devoted’ she felt a lurch in her stomach, supressed anger simmered she sniffled as her vision momentarily blurred, then, she simply lowered her gaze “I…, I shall go attend the girls” she whispered

George was not usually one for showing signs of surprise, but this time, he was actually thrown for a brief, genuine moment as he stepped out of the way as Cathryn rushed past to escape him.

Behind him, Jacob – the long-time serving butler of the family observed the way Cathryn vacated the room with equal surprise, his gaze moving from Cathryn’s retreating form towards George “Master Smythe, breakfast will be served in a moment, I shall ask Peggy to take a meal to Mrs Smythe”  

George’s icy-gaze fell towards Jacob a moment and he simply shrugged “Normally I would insist she be brought down, but her ‘good’ behaviour should be encouraged” he chuckled, before turning away from Jacob and making his way to take his usual seat at the head of the table, his eyes drifting towards the window

Later that morning; Cathryn would find herself travelling by carriage from the Estate for what felt like the first time – the ride felt suffocating, a trap of silence and a faint leather scent that seemed to mix with the cologne George wore; George sat directly opposite her, legs sprawled comfortably while Cathryn sat with the youngest twin; Lydia.

Lydia was the miniature of her mother Cathryn – sharing the same angelic innocence, that same long raven-dark hair and silvery-grey eyes; and while she would usually be as light as a feather, due to Cathryn’s current pained state, Lydia felt that little bit heavier than she should, but Cathryn did not complain, she did not speak or comment, she simply wrapped her arms more protectively around her, the subtle movements drawing Lydia’s eyes as she sat silently in her mother’s lap, she could sense the fear, she’d been noticing it more and more without understanding why, often it confused her why she seemed to always having a sense of being unsafe around the man that was meant to be her father.

Sat beside Cathryn was the elder twin; Elizabeth – unlike Lydia who bore their mother’s physical similarities and natural soft inclination, Elizabeth was the polar opposite, instead taking after George, sharing the blonde hair and icy-eyes and she made an active attempt to copy him.

At 4 years old the girls seemed to already be showing divergent paths – while Lydia retained Cathryn’s softness, Elizabeth was already mirroring George; cold, detached and increasingly loyal to the hand that fed her.

George’s gaze took the sight in with a predator’s gaze; he noted the way Elizabeth straightened her spine when he looked at her, the way her icy-blue eyes seemed to brighten in hopes of approval; ‘Loyalty’ he mused internally ‘It is best to wield as a weapon early’ – he would use this building devotion, twist it until she was as sharp and unyielding as a blade

As the carriage rattled along, the iron gates of the Estate would be left behind and as the world outside shifted from quiet countryside to the restless pulse of London it would begin first as a quiet murmur; distant wheels with the occasional shout from vendors, but which each turn, each tick of the clock that passed the noise grew; thickened, seemingly pressing in on the carriage and so too would the change in smell – from country air to acrid industrial coal that would cling to the back of the throat.

Lydia lifted her head from her mother’s chest, her thumb between her lips as she looked towards the door of their carriage, her brow knitting together as the sounds grew; so too did her curiosity, even Elizabeth couldn’t retain her effort to mimic her father, turning her head towards the window and propping herself up to look.

As the streets narrowed and hooves clattered; voices rose and fell in a chaotic rhythm – the sight of so many people was something neither sister had ever seen before from their isolated life from the Estate where the sheer amount of people on London’s streets was simply overwhelming to see – glimpses of children darting between adults – that very fact drew Lydia’s gaze; there was other children beyond the Estate and they seemed to move freely – her eyes widened, and when Elizabeth glanced back, they both shared a look of surprise that there was an entire world outside of the Estate.

The city though – that did not care who passed through it, its noise swallowed everything, then, through the chaotic noise came a deep, resonant chime that rolled across the air.

A loud; Bong!

The sound vibrated through the very air and carriage; low and commanding, as if the city itself answered to it.

Lydia instinctively flinched as her small hands gripped her mother’s blouse; hiding her face against her mother’s shoulder pushing purposely beneath the coat Cathryn was wearing – Cathryn’s lips twitching ever so subtle as she brought her hand up to the back of Lydia’s head.

Elizabeth by contrast – her eyes widened; bright with fascination as a second chime followed; measured, stately and unmistakable; Bong! – Elizabeth felt her lips tugging up in an innocent smile instead of the usually refined detached expression she usually tries to force in effort to copy George, her expression simply impossible to contain.

Cathryn too was unable to stop her gaze drifting towards the small window despite herself

“That” George’s aristocratic voice rumbled as he observed both daughters carefully, eyes flickering from Elizabeth’s fascinated curiosity and Lydia’s effort to hide “Is the heart of the Empire”

It wouldn’t be much longer before the carriage would begin to slow, its intended destination near – at a safe distance though; a figure had been following the journey, shadowing it, and keeping it perfectly within view, the man’s eyes narrowing as he kept careful observation over the men that were also near to act as escort.

Chapter 2:

The chaotic noise seemed to thin ever so slightly into something much more controlled, choruses of vendors and carts rattling along were replaced by a quiet, curated thrum of life, but much quiet, much more silent – a silence that existed only within places where power was concentrated and carefully guarded.

Cathryn felt Lydia stir beneath her coat, her small fingers curling tightly around the fabric of her blouse, she repositioned her hand gently again behind Lydia’s head; Elizabeth, she had readopted the serious expression to copy her father, no longer distracted by the sights of London – as the carriage came to a halt outside of a building, initially it looked no different from any of the surrounding buildings of the borough; its façade was a fortress that kept its true nature hidden in plain view, the tall windows veiled by heavy drapes and above the main entrance a crest hung featuring a Scythe Crossed by a Sword, sitting between them a Rose.

George was first to vacate the carriage, turning sharply back, his eyes landing onto Cathryn “Out” he commanded, offering no hand, leaving them behind his back as he watched her carefully

Cathryn hesitated as her eyes flickered to George first, then past him, her arms tightening around Lydia as she moved from her seat to climb down from the carriage, her movements unsteady – George’s eyes narrowing and finally moving his left from around his back and towards Cathryn to grip her arm, causing her to shake in response but he didn’t release, he simply steadied her first before his eyes drifted to Elizabeth as she followed down from the carriage, her eyes wide with wonder.

Approaching the family; a Cultist Enforcer, a rather large, brutish man approached – his eyes landing on Cathryn, recognising her from previous encounters years ago when George had essentially paraded her around shortly after her miscarriage in early 1890, he remembered how she struggled to move, seeing her out with two children and still trembling and struggling he slowly shook his head; beside him, a visitor from the far north, wearing the typical attire of his class, but it was his accent that gave him away as a Scotsman “Do not make ye disdain so obvious” he commented quietly to the Enforcer “This Sadist is a dangerous one, and it be best not drawin’ his anger”

The Enforcer gave a subtle grunt in response “Of course Mister Cain”

Moving forwards, ‘Cain’ looked towards George “Welcome back Smythe; as usual, the Imperium’s councillors await, along with our elected leader, Victor, shall we?” he gestured

George moved forwards without a word, marching ahead – Elizabeth immediately moving to try and keep pace with her father, but easily falling behind by the speed her father was moving, leaving her just a little in front of Cathryn – Cathryn simply kept her gaze on her daughter, watching the determined intent to catch up to her father, her arms still around Lydia as she felt Lydia’s head against her collar – her breath warm against her mother’s collarbone.

As she walked though, she felt a prickling sensation run down her spine causing her to briefly stop and glance backwards – she felt eyes on her, her gaze drifting slowly.

Then, she spotted the movement, the same figure from the Estate, a man in working class attire, usually associated with someone from the north rather than in London, it reminded her a little of the Hunter she’d encountered years earlier; Jesse, only this figure seemed more shifty, almost volatile as he loitered near a newsstand staring at her.
Realising she was looking at him, he turned away to act like he’s trying to get a newspaper – but she was already working things out.

“Cathryn!” George barked “Keep up” he added with a sharp commanding voice, he’d briefly stopped to check on where she’d gotten to, Cain also standing near George observing Cathryn – turning her head, she immediately lowered her gaze, the familiar weight of submission settling back into her shoulders as she resumed walking, quickening her pace to catch up, though she was unsteady, and being unused to heels it made her movements harder as they clicked against the ground in her frantic attempt to catch up – the Enforcer taking notice and deliberately lagging to be near in the event she slips from her unsteady balance.

In the meeting room, it was a chamber of horrors disguised as high society – the heavy tapestries and muffled noises as Imperium Councillors representing various different nationalities for their respective ‘Cults’.
The Imperium had, since ancient times acted as the unifying voice of these competing groups, providing them a structure that enabled them to work together cohesively to reach the end goal of freeing their Dark Master.

Despite Victor’s role as the ‘Elected’ leader of the Imperium, George used his wealth and influence to control the reins of power, and while usually this would be challenged, Victor’s recent actions had already caused concern such as his decision to relocate the Imperium’s central Bureau from Rome to Tarrytown.
Victor’s reasoning was simple; America was the future, often it came into conflict with more staunchly traditionalist Cult members who took offence, George represented the ‘old guard’ unintentionally and kept a system of balance.
As George took his seat at the table, his eyes flickered around to the representatives from France, Germany, Spain, Ireland, Sweden and as far to the East as China, as well as some newer faces from more recent Cultist groups from Brazil and Mexico – the Mason family from America however, were absent.

Cathryn found herself standing behind George’s chair, Lydia still hiding beneath her coat as she held her against her hip – Elizabeth sat on a cushioned stool watching the meeting with a great intensity as it began, her eyes wide and unblinking.

For Cathryn though, still operating on no sleep and no proper rest, time seemed to simply stretch – she mostly zoned out, the room itself beginning to swim as voices just became an irritating echo in her ears, her vision began to darken at the edge tunnelling until only George’s broad back remained fully in focus, her body simply started to say, her grip on Lydia now taking effort to maintain as she felt her knees beginning to tremble, the heeled footwear not helping as she found herself fighting the urge to collapse.

‘Just a moment longer’ she begged herself internally ‘Just Breathe’

It was at this moment that the peace of the Imperium’s meeting would be shattered violently – Cathryn’s awareness snapped back into place as she looked across as the door crashed inwards and the deafening sound of gunfire rang out within the room.

Primal instinct immediately took over for Cathryn as the chaos erupted – councillors scrambling, chairs screeching against the floor, panic shouts and calls for support – Cathryn, still gripping Lydia tight against her beneath her coat span towards Elizabeth, her eyes landing on her, the look Elizabeth held was unmistakable; Elizabeth wasn’t wanting George, she wanted her mother, Cathryn immediately moved grabbing Elizabeth and pulling her close beside Lydia, curling herself around them to shield them with her body.

Cathryn’s initially kept herself still until an uneasy stillness seemed to settle in the room, finally, she risked looking, bringing her head up, and through the chaotic aftermath she saw him; the man from the street, the same one from the Estate.

As he walked forwards, he clearly wasn’t the same kind of honourable figure as Jesse had been – this new figure instead entered with intent to execute, Cathryn’s eyes widening as he didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger even on those injured – moving with a terrifying calm amidst the carnage; as he stepped over the dead, he let his gaze drift to one Enforcer that managed to get back to his feet.

With a cocky grin, he moved a free hand within his jacket – when the Enforcer made a move to attack, his hand came back out, Cathryn caught a glimpse of the egg-shell that ‘popped’ in his grip, flinging his hand forwards; the contents of the shell flying forwards hitting the Cultist in the face immediately stopping him to react to the sudden pain surging in his eyes from a crushed blend of mustard seeds and stinging nettles; it was that moment Cathryn realised this man was an Anti-Imperium Hunter

Chapter 3:

Cathryn’s eyes widened at the realisation that this figure was a ‘Hunter’ like her, like her family.

Struggling to push herself back, she kept herself curled around the girls, but, purposely moved to reach for her footwear, purposely removing it to give herself better manoeuvrability due to the difficulty of moving in heels, with her feet free, she pushed herself back with the girls in hopes she could melt away into the shadows of the heavy drapes.
Unfortunately, the movement drew the Hunter’s attention – his eyes; a deep brown, like the oak of an old tree, locked onto Cathryn’s silvery-grey, his gaze narrowed; it seemed…, Hateful

Marching forwards, his boots crunched down on a broken glass, raising the revolver upwards “Cornelius” he stated loudly – identifying himself; his voice a mix of his native northern rumble with a gravelly rasp; he simply oozed hatred “And you” he spat

Cathryn’s eyes immediately narrowed, releasing the girls and forcing them behind her, as she rose up, using her body as a shield for them as she felt both girls holding onto her skirt.

Cornelius’s eyes flickered to Elizabeth – the blonde child that was clearly the child of the enemy “You are a traitor” he spat at her “You sired the children of our enemy; you insult your parents very memory”

“You think I ‘ave a choice?” Cathryn’s voice trembled as she stared forwards – her breath hitched “You ain’t ‘urting me girls, ye understand me, I ain’t lettin’ you”

Cornelius shook his head “I ‘ave no issue with killin’ you then them” he told her, his lips curving – Cathryn could see his finger tightening on the trigger, purposely, she reached backwards to push Elizabeth and Lydia directly behind her and to stop them peeking out as she began whispering her apologies, her eyes closing tightly

Then came the ‘Bang’ – but she didn’t feel the typical pain, instead, she felt her world just suddenly lurch sideways, and not in the way she’d have expected; it was fast, with a weight that had slammed against her side knocking the air from her lungs – when she struck the ground, she hit it sideways on, her eyes snapping open as she started coughing from the jarring impact, her cheek scraped along the rough carpet; her eyes moved sideways – she saw George.

He had purposely thrown himself at her to force her out of the way, a human barricade of muscle and malice, the bullet meant for her, instead had struck him in the shoulder, tearing through his expensive coat and embedding in flesh, he let out a grunt, heavy, almost animalistic but one of pure anger as he pushed himself up directly above her – their eyes meeting.

Cathryn simply stared at him – terror momentarily eclipsed by utter shock the only question she could think was simply ‘Why’

George didn’t waste time with explanations, he simply rolled off of her, fluid and dangerous despite the wound that had begun to soak through the back of his shirt – Cornelius realised his mistake as George rose back up to his feet drawing a revolver – he quickly brought his own up to George and pulled the trigger and all that echoed out was a simple ‘click’

The hollow sound of a hammer striking at an empty chamber and it seemed to ominously echo in the lull of the firefight; Cornelius’s eyes widened with realisation.

George’s lips simply curved up into a dark, sadistic grin “Poor form Hunter”

George decided to respond in kind, squeezing the trigger and fired off the first shot – a loud roar erupting from the revolver as the shot whizzed past Cornelius’s ear causing him to jerk; , George’s grin not faltering as he fired a second time, the second shot erupting with a second bang, unlike the first, this did not miss; it landed with a solid impact against Cornelius’s shoulder causing him to stagger backwards.

Cornelius hissed in pain but twisted around and simply ran, stumbling slightly as he rushed for the door; George simply watched him go, his grin never faltering.

When George turned back, his gaze fell towards the twins who had now rushed back into their mother’s embrace; his eyes locking with Cathryn’s as he holstered the weapon, watching the way her body trembled “Tend to them” he ordered “I shall arrange for our return back to the Estate”

Cathryn didn’t react, she offered no acknowledgement – she simply stared, watching him walk away with a second glance, she simply tightened her arms around her daughters.

Written By: Westley H.

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