It was quite an odd occurance to see one, Marie James out of her home. So odd, that she had lost her way to one of the most popular spots in Lindebo; The Cathedral. Of course, it hadn't been the Cathedral Marie had left the comfort of her own home for, but what lay to the back of it.

The Graveyard was a small one, with fine grave stones, and large tomb stones which beheld names she'd never known. Vines had begun to climb their way up the side of a few stones near the back, and this very thought brought a chill to the young girl's bones.

In her hand, between her small fingers lay a single white rose. By now, she'd managed to wear away some of the stem's coloring, and ripped off one of the leaves with her constant fingering of the poor flower. At last, the young James girl reached her destination within her current destination.



It wasn't entirely proper for a young woman to kneel, or sit upon the ground while in public, and in such difficult, yet fine attire. Therefore, Marie restrained herself. A delicate and soft sigh left her lips as she read over her mother's gravestone. After a moment and a half, the redheaded teenager bent quickly and lay the flower right at he base of the stone.

"Hello mother, I hope you're well.." She whispered, but suddenly straightened. It wasn't at all acceptable to be speaking to ones self while in public, nor anywhere for that matter. Marie's lips cracked just slightly to form an embarassed smile as she quickly lifted a hand to 'adjust the ribbon tying her hat around her chin' while really making an excuse to gaze around her for any signs of other that might be present to have seen her.

Marie blinked, looking around the graveyard. There didn't seem to be anyone about today. Sure, there had been those that had attended Church for the morning mass, and there would be those still loyal to the church who would attend the evening mass. Marie was not one of those people. And since she had not been brought out into society quite yet, she hadn't bothered... also considering since the death of her mother, she had questioned God. How could someone so full of love take someone loved so very much?

It would have been a terrible shame if someone had been able to read her thoughts just then. The way society was divided these days, you'd never know what they would have thought. Marie looked over her shoulder once more, and swore she had seen someone. Her lips parted for a moment, forming a very small 'O' before she stepped forward. 'What am I doing? What if no one is there, then what will I look like?' She asked herself, closing her eyes for just a moment, before re-opening them.

It was too quiet, it seemed. Well, considering that this was a graveyard, but it still had an uneasy effect upon her stomach. It was then, that a flock of ravens decided it would be the perfect time to erupt from the nearby tree and fly over head, cawing noisily. The sudden noise scared her so very much, that she made a kind of squeak/yelping noise, and a hand flew to her collar bone. If someone had been there...surely they'd have thought the young girl'd lost her mind.

((OOC: I changed the post so that Ginerva doesn't make so much noise and hides behind a tombstone))

As much as she and Amelia bickered Ginerva couldn’t help but feel sorry for her aged step mother as she left the Douglas home. Amelia had worked so hard on the dress for little Sarah Douglas, so to have the little girl not only reject the dress but stomp on it would probably break Amelia’s heart. Personally Ginerva would have loved a dress like this when she was little: white lace with little pink bows, plus a matching pink scarf. They were far better than the little rags in shades of soot and mud that she had worn herself. Middle class children these days had no respect and didn’t appreciate what they had.

Ginerva had folded the dress over in her arms and used the scarf to keep it packaged. On the top side a little foot imprint of crusted mud glared up at Ginerva and reminded her of Sarah’s harsh words. The term was “gutter tramp” that Sarah had used after picking the dress up and flinging it at a dumb struck Ginerva. Ginerva would have struck the girl across the face had she not of run out of the parlor. She had thought about reminding her mother to give the child a good switching to straighten her out, but then she remembered her place. She wore a plain dress that was rather clean considering she’d worn it twice in a row now, but that didn’t cover up the fact that she was from the Slums. The Middle Class could be kind a courteous to her but she knew that it wasn’t required and that seven year old girls were allowed to treat the help however they wanted. Sighing as a cool breeze passed by Ginerva tried to forget the incident and move on with her life. The Douglas family weren’t regular customers and Amelia would never work for them again. It was all in the past from here on out and there was no use getting herself down fretting about it.

Upon reaching the Cathedral Ginerva noted that she and Amelia hadn’t gone to mass in a while, and with the times they should be attending frequently. It was just the other day that some poor soul had been viciously murdered by a mysterious figure that had since avoided capture. If it had happened on Kirk Street, which Ginerva had always imagined to be safe, then the Slums had to be a virtual death trap in comparison. As Ginerva looked around nervously, as though expecting the murder to attack at any second, the scarf around the dress loosened.

“It sure is a windy day,” Ginerva mumbled to herself as another wind blew by, but this time it carried the pink ribbon with it.

“Wait!” Ginerva called out as though the ribbon would suddenly stop and come back to her. The ribbon danced in the air above her head and teased the dark haired Seamstress. It floated over the Cathedral lawn and headed towards the back. “Wait!” Ginerva called again and she began to follow the ribbon. The piece of ribbon floated back toward the cemetery where it wrapped around the tombstones and slipped out of Ginerva’s hands time after time.

“I got it,” Ginerva cried and she threw herself at the ribbon. She landed with a thud onto the cemetery ground, the ribbon clutched in her hand. She rose triumphantly with a wide smile, but when she noticed two people nearby, one a young woman and the other a lurking man, she ducked behind a tombstone.

"Did they see me?" Ginerva wondered, struck with panic. With her back up against a large tombstone she hoped, prayed that no one had noticed her.

OOC: Marie said it was okay to have the mugger do that. :)

Alexander Robertson was a desperate man (and also slightly deranged, although he disputed the possibility). Everything he did was done with an air of hopelessness and despair, and he often did things that were not in the realm of acceptability. This was because, if Alexander were to be apprehended by the police, he would be hung without a second thought. He was an escaped convict from London, who had skipped town upon his prison break. He had been in prison awaiting his death for raping six different women and killing one of them (which he considered to be extremely unfair; he hadn’t meant to kill the women and they had just said he had because he had been violating her). Therefore, he had nothing to lose by continuing to act against the laws of society, and so he did.

Right now, he was watching a slim young thing at a grave. She was beautiful, despite the somewhat loose clothing she wore, and just the age he liked them. But more importantly, she appeared to be rich, and her clothing alone would fetch him a pretty penny, enough to get him out of this town. He’d heard that an inspector from London was on the police force, and he hadn’t escaped and hidden these four years to be caught now. He began to make his way closer as she was occupied with her own thoughts. He could knock her out and strip her without her ever seeing his face, and she would be unable to describe him to the police. If he had a little fun along the way, so much the better.

Suddenly a flock of crows burst up from a tree next to him, and the woman looked round. Gritting his teeth, he ran forward. That dashed his plan to get away without her seeing him. The woman would definitely pay for that; he would take his payment from her body. She deserved it for not going along with the scheme. He seized the woman and clapped a hand over her mouth. “All right, ducks, don’t make a sound. We want this to be quiet, don’t we?”

Alexander forced her head to nod up and down. “Yes, I’m glad you agree. Think of it this way; if nobody sees, then nobody will know of your shame, will they? So it’s in your own best interests to keep quiet.” He didn’t mention that he would be taking her clothes to pawn, and so everyone would know anyway. There was no need to rile her up.

He began to drag her towards a crypt-housing, where no one would see.


Nils was walking through Lindebo, heading from the park to the quayside to check up on his ship. He needed to find another cargo as soon as possible, both to keep up his profits and to allow him to move on from this city. The English were getting on his nerves, with their odd custom and complicated courtesies. He needed to get back to Denmark and spend a while with his family.

He was walking past the cathedral graveyard. It was lovely and secluded, with overhanging trees shading a thousand different nooks and crannies from sight. He was just turning his attention back to the path he was walking when he saw a flash of color. A young woman was chasing her ribbon through the cemetery, and… he looked a bit further ahead and saw a man, dragging a second woman struggling down a path.

At once he leapt over the paling, running swiftly but on silent feet towards them. He stopped beside the first woman, who had clearly become aware of the situation and was hiding and trying to decide what to do, crouching by the tombstone and settling his hand gently over her mouth in case she was startled by his presence. He whispered in the lowest possible tone, “Shh. I mean you no harm. But you must stay here, or run for the police.” He couldn’t take care of her and the other woman at the same time, and so he needed her to help him by summoning others.

He took his hand from her mouth, trusting her not to say anything that would give him away, and began to sneak from stone to stone towards the other pair. Before he was in range, however, the first woman’s ribbon flapped by him, bobbling colorfully in the air. The man dragging the woman saw it out of the corner of his eye, and glanced to see what it was, and his eyes fell straight on Nils.

His cover ruined and the man now aware of him, Nils did the only thing he could, boldly setting his foot forward and stating flatly, “Let her go.”


Alexander saw the situation go from bad to worse. First the woman would be able to identify him, and now this man cropped up. He needed to find a way to get rid of them both and disappear, fast. But first, he’d need some form of cooperation from the man, since he couldn’t overwhelm them both at once. He needed leverage… and it was right by him. He pulled his knife, the blade eight inches and quite sharp, and laid it at Marie’s throat. ”I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Just get yourself over here by this tombstone and face the other way or she’s going to have a new smile.”

A delicate sigh escaped her lips as the 16 year old girl straightened, her eyes still transfixed upon her mother's grave. Attentive as she was, Marie was not quite aware that a strange man was currently watching her, vulgar thoughts flooding his mind. From somewhere nearby, she heard a woman's voice, calling for someone.

Marie turned her head just slightly enough to see in that direction, but it appeared that whomever had been shouting was no longer there. "Hm.." She hummed, as if to say, 'How odd.' It was then, seconds after the crows had burst from the nearby tree, that the man leapt for her. Before Marie could shriek her resistance, the man's large and powerful hands holding her against him, the other hand over her mouth.

“All right, ducks, don’t make a sound. We want this to be quiet, don’t we?”

Marie had no decision to make, as he moved her head up and down in false agreement. She nervously, and quietly whimpered, trying to stay perfectly still. No one had ever taught her how to react if anyone should ever attack her like this, and Marie was letting her innocence get the best of her.

Yes Im glad you agree Think of it this way

Marie closed her eyes, breathing quickly in and out of her nose. Her mind raced with the thoughts of what could happen to her. She'd be robbed, hurt, maybe even... Marie gulped, raped.. Quickly, she thought to devise a plan. Perhaps if she could wriggle free from his grasp he might let go.. have second thoughts, 'Oh don't be rediculous.. He's not going to let you go by any means'.. her mind scolded.

Out of the corner of her large blue eyes, Marie spotted the woman, dash behind a tomb stone. She wanted to scream out to her, call for help. Or rather.. 'MMM!' for help.. but it was as useless as trying to read in a dark closet. The woman was safe.. she wouldn't be harmed. But as for Marie? Things were not looking as good as she would have originally hoped they would be.

The strange and powerful man began to drag her away from the spot, and Marie was letting terror flood her. Still whimpering, her lips shaking terribly against his hand, she had no choice but to follow him wherever he lead her. Maybe.. just maybe someone would see, and come to her aid..

“Let her go.”

Marie turned her head, so incredibly happy that someone had come to her rescue, she would be willingn to hug the stranger. Alas.. she was not fee yet. Her eyes widened in fear as an 8-inch dagger was held against her throat. She dared not to swallow with the fear that the blade might cut her. Instead, Marie, cried against his hand, a barely audible, "Mm!" emmitting from her lips. A fearful tear slid down her cheek, touching the man's hand as it fell. She closed her eyes, and when she re-opened them, more had fallen. Marie was more frightened than she had ever been in her entire life.

”I don’t think I’ll be doing that. Just get yourself over here by this tombstone and face the other way or she’s going to have a new smile.”

Marie was now close to hyperventilating. She blinked several times in a row, her vision obscured with tears. 'Please.. please do something!' she thought hurridly, her mind racing.

The man holding the young girl captive did exactly what Nils had both feared and expected him to do. Nils hadn’t thought that the mugger would really let her go, but he had hoped that the man would see reason and choose to end this without any violence or trouble. But since it was not to be, he began to do as the man said. He started walking towards the tombstone indicated, lifting his hands to indicate he meant no harm.

He saw a tear drip down the girl’s face, and then it was as if the floodgates of misery had been opened and were pouring their contents across her face. The poor girl! She must be frightened to death. He said gently, still walking slowly and with his hands raised towards the tombstone by the two of them, “Don’t worry, it will be fine. You’ll be okay.”

The mugger snorted and said roughly, ”I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I? You’d best not say things you don’t mean. I might get mad.”

Nils, already knowing it wasn’t going to work, but feeling he should give it a shot nonetheless, kept moving slowly so as not to startle the man and said to him, “Why don’t you let her go? I will stay with you here, and you can have my money.” He kept his voice peaceable and non-threatening.

The other man eyed him warily anyway. ”Ah, but then she’d just run away for help. No, I don’t think that’d work. You just keep moving.”

Nils reached the tombstone and began to turn away, as the mugger had instructed. He was now only a scant four feet from the girl and her oppressor, and now was the time he had to act. The mugger clearly intended for Nils to turn away so that he could stab him in the back and be done with him; Nils had to act before that happened. He kept a close watch on the other man’s eyes, and as soon as they flickered towards the knife the merchant captain sprang into action. He twisted around with all the speed he could muster, lunging for the two of them.

His hand curled around the blade of the knife, the edge slicing deeply into his hand. Nils had fought many times before in his younger and less wise days, and knew the cardinal rule of knife fights; expect to get cut. The mugger would assume that Nils would be afraid of getting cut, and would expect him to react thusly. But once the blade was sunk into his fingers, Nils had eliminated the threat to Marie’s life and had taken away the advantage of the mugger’s best weapon.

It hurt. It hurt terribly, and the blade was slipping in his hand, and Nils knew he had to finish this before he lost his grip on the weapon. He threw a powerful punch at the mugger’s face with his other hand, but the man threw back his head and the fist landed without the force it was supposed to. It did cause the mugger to loosen his grip on the girl, though, and Nils yanked her from his grasp unceremoniously and shoved her sprawling away. There was no time to be delicate with her; this was a life or death situation.

The mugger cursed and yanked at his knife, sending rippled of pain through Nils as the blade grated along his finger-bones. He couldn’t afford to let the man have his knife back, though, so he went in close, bear-hugging the man and trapping the knife between them, robbing the mugger of his advantage. He tangled a foot about the mugger’s leg and pushed, and the two of them toppled over onto the grass, becoming a rolling two-man brawl.

<I'm going to take this reply, I hope you don't mind Ginerva>

As Nils did what he was told, and stepped towards the tomb, Marie feared for the worst. She needed to swallow desperately, but only saw herself with a slit throat if she so much as moved.

“Don’t worry, it will be fine. You’ll be okay.”

Marie's face softened. It was a crazy thing, but she'd never believed something immediately like she had just then. She'd be okay.. He would save her. Her large and frightened eyes followed Nils to the tomb, where she saw for a momet, a plan in his eyes.

”I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I? You’d best not say things you don’t mean. I might get mad.”

She felt a skip in her heartbeat. 'Please don't get mad..' She silently pleaded with her captor, as she felt his grip upon her tighten. Perhaps he had seen the glint in Nils eyes aswell.

“Why don’t you let her go? I will stay with you here, and you can have my money.”

Now that sounded like a good plan. Marie wanted to nod, and encourage Nils' ideas.. however such a thing would result in her death. So she stood, feet aching from staying in the same position for such a while.

”Ah, but then she’d just run away for help. No, I don’t think that’d work. You just keep moving.”

That wasn't entirely true. Marie argued with herself for a moment, reflecting on what she would do if he let her go and decided to let Nils take her place. It was true that Marie might want to run.. that she'd want to get away as fast as she could. But to leave the man that saved her behind with a lunatic? It would simply be against her demeanor.

The fight continued to grow worse. Soon, Nils had sprang forth, and shoved Marie out of the way in order to take on the mugger. With a very loud yelp, the young girl fell to the ground. Her eyes large, and fearful, she immediately began to stand, and watched in terror as Nils' hands began to grow bloody and raw. The look of complete anguish upon his face was enough to tell her that he needed help.

But sadly, Marie was unable to move. She very much wanted to run for help, but her feet had decided to stay planted on the scene. She continually gasped, and placed a hand over her mouth as she back up and against a nearby tomb-stone, her shoes crushing a bouquet at it's base.

With another yelp, the redheaded teen watched in horror as the two men, intertwined at the legs, rolled about upon the ground fighting. Violence was not her cup of tea, to say the least, and what she saw before her was mutilating her innocence. "Be careful!" She shrieked as Nils missed a hit from the mugger. All she needed was Nils to get knocked out, and the angry mugger to come after her.. That would just be the cherry on a fantastic afternoon. B)

((No problem))

Ginerva slowly turned around and peaked around the tombstone and found that the mysterious lurking man had attacked the poor girl. Rage came over the hot headed woman at the sight of another fool, who would dare call himself a man, was attacking an innocent girl. She saw this sort of behavior now more than ever and she was sick of sitting around and just letting it happen. Monsters like this deserved to be hung on the spot of their vicious crimes. Even if the man looked tough if Ginerva distracted the man the girl could break free. Then it would be two against one granted he didn’t pull out a weapon to tip the odds in his favor. It would be dangerous sure but she could just sit there, she had to try something! Ginerva was just about to spring out from behind the tombstone when a hand swept around and covered her mouth.

“Shh. I mean you no harm. But you must stay here, or run for the police.”

For one heart stopping moment Ginerva felt herself go completely rigid and her hands released their tight hold on the pink ribbon. It took her a second to register the words that had come out of the gentleman’s mouth, but when they did she understood. Biting her lip, Ginerva watched as the man confronted the criminal. She was sure that the muscular man would be able to free the girl with ease, especially if he caught him off guard. The man just had to sneak up on the guy, pull him off the girl, rough him up a bit, and the mugger would run off like a scared puppy. The surprise would have caught the mugger off guard completely, but as the wind blew once more a flash of pink caught Ginerva’s eyes.

“No,” Ginerva’s lips words and her eyes bulged with fear. She watched as the object moved fell back to the ground, then looked back at the mugger who had pulled out his secret weapon: a knife. He pressed it so close to the poor girl’s neck that Ginerva was sure she’d see a trail of blood roll down the silver blade, but felt a slight relief to see that the mugger hadn’t finished the girl off, yet. Ginerva once again was frozen with fear. She couldn’t run off now without the mugger seeing her and punishing the girl for Ginerva’s actions. If Ginerva didn’t run for help the mugger could get away but if she did run…

There was nothing much more to do than to watch the scene unfold and to stand by. Ginerva rose slowly, but before she could move forward the other man leaped out at the mugger. The movements between the two men were quick, but soon Ginerva she saw a flash of blood and to her horror she saw that the girl’s protector had gripped the blade of the knife with his hand. Ginerva hardly had time to examine the cut as the protector and the mugger fought with the knife between them.

"Be careful!" Ginerva looked up in shock at the shriek then down as the two men continued their brawl on the ground. The knife could still be seen in little glimpses but as much as Ginerva wanted to help she could tell it still wasn’t time. The protector would need to get control of the situation before she could jump in.

(OOC: Thanks for covering my gaff with the ribbon, Ginerva! :twothumbsup:)

Nils was far to busy fighting to mind anything else—and he was having a hard go of it. His days as a sailor, before his sisters had succeeded in reforming him into a rather more genteel captain, had rarely seen a fight with so determined an opponent as this. While Nils was certainly more familiar with brawls and other unmannerly rough-and-tumble than the average gentleman, he was these days more used to fighting with the sword or pistol; these being the gentleman’s mediums of combat. These two things combined to make him fear that he might have picked a fight that he could not win. The mugger fought as if he were the devil himself.

But he was in the fight now, and no help for it—he could not have stood by or walked on as the girl was forced to hand her honour to the beast he fought now. Nils’ left hand was covered in his own blood and gripping the knife blade and his right was furiously raining blows about the other man’s shoulders. The mugger was holding onto the knife handle with his right hand and pounding at Nils with his left; Nils suspected it was only this fortuitous intervention of Providence that prevented Nils from being dead already. The two of them rolled about on the grass, tufts of plants and spatters of dark grave-soil sticking to their coats.

Finally, the mugger fetched up against a gravestone and for that moment in time Nils was above him. Nils immediately took the opportunity to knee him hard in the groin—Nils was not and never had been a subscriber to the idea of a “fair fight.” The mugger made a sound much like a puppy’s keen and curled involuntarily towards Nils; this allowed the merchant captain to curl his right arm around the man’s shoulders, as if hugging him, and then to bring his head sharply forward to knock against his opponent’s. Sparkles momentarily swam through Nils’ vision, but the mugger collapsed back against the ground and released his hold on the knife-handle. Nils quickly yanked it from his reach and transferred it to his undamaged right hand, curling his sliced left fingers into a fist to stem the bleeding.

The mugger rolled over feebly, and weakly looked around, and Nils backed up another step. The other man seemed to sense that he was on the verge of sudden violence and began to whine, ”No, no, don’t hurt me! I’ll go, I’ll go, just don’t-“

He was cut off in mid-sentence as Nils sprang forward and kicked him in the head, his boot crashing into the mugger’s ear with a hollow noise; it was not a difficult proposition since the man’s face was perhaps a foot and a half from the ground, if that. The mugger collapsed back to the grass, this time unconscious. Nils knew he must seem barbaric to the two young ladies in the cemetery, to refuse to grant quarter to an injured man begging for his life, but he had seen the mugger’s other hand sliding towards his coat pocket. The merchant captain quickly stooped by the recumbent figure and riffled through his pockets, withdrawing another eight-inch knife from the one the man’s hand had been angling for. Once satisfied that the mugger was both weaponless and looked to remain unconscious for a time, Nils sat down heavily on the tombstone by man’s head.

He looked over to where the girl he had assisted was standing, and glanced at where he thought he had left the other woman, although since she was not visible at the moment and he had been to occupied to keep track of her whereabouts during the fight he wasn’t quite certain if she was still there. He noticed that she seemed to be completely disconcerted by the fight, her hand over her mouth and her breath coming in gasps. He began to stand and stretch out his left hand towards her but the pain in his fingers acutely reminded him that they were slashed; it seemed that now he was no longer fighting for their lives that the pain was ten times worse and Nils sat back down abruptly and clenched his fingers back into a fist, curling over slightly to cradle it at his stomach.

So instead of rising he said to her from where he was seated, “I am sorry carry on in such a manner in front of a lady.”

“I am sorry carry on in such a manner in front of a lady.”

Marie had watched them fight for some time now, and for every single second she watched, her stomach had turned another degree. She knew nothing of Nils' occupation, nor his abilities to take on a very dangerous other man. But it was when finally, to both her absolutely joy, and slight dismay, that Nils' boot collided with the mugger's head. Of course, Marie had gasped, and her hand over her mouth and tightened there, as not to falsely alarm Nils of another mugger, or someone of the sort.

He spoke to her, and Marie came over to him, slowly, her feet barely picking up off of the ground. "Sir, I-.." She began, "I would rather see you win against such a horrid man, than worry about manners at such a time." He sat, curled over his hand, and Marie came to her knees aswell, which was not entirely lady-like in the least, however he had saved her very life. She supposed.. that the rules of society could be broken for a moment or two while she offered her assistance.

"Sir, your hand.. it is cut rather badly. May I see it?" She inquired, retrieving her handkerchief, and having it ready in her hand. He would need a doctor, was all she knew about the situation. Perhaps trying to stop the rapid bleeding might not be such a bad thing either. Where the other woman had gone, Marie did not know. What she did know, was that she would take Nils into town, so that he may receive the help that he needed, and retrieve clean clothing that was not stained with bits of grass or dirt. Marie glanced rather disdainfully over at the mugger, knocked out with a bloody lip, and purple eye, then grimaced. She had never liked gore, violence, or anything of the sort; It merely had never appealed to her. But today, she had seen it used.. in almost a good way.

Growing up in the Slums Ginerva had never seen a fight last as long as this. She’d seen plenty of pub tussles spill out into the streets and many glass bottles smashed over drunken skulls—in some cases she had been the one to deliver such blows—but none of those fights compared to this one. The other fights usually ended with the men giving up and either returning to the pub for another round or heading home and falling into a drunken slumber. In this fight both men seemed so determined to win but the reason seemed unknown, at least to Ginerva. If the mugger had simply left the scene, and the other man had simply let him go, the mugger could get away and the girl would have been safe. Sure the mugger would get away but for how long? Surely the local authorities would catch up with him sooner or later…

The fight continued even as Ginerva tried to evaluate it all. She stopped looking at the fight and checked the girl’s face to see that same horrified expression. She’d never seen someone looks so disturbed by a fight, but then the girl was young and had probably never witnessed a fight before in her life. Turning back and hiding behind the tombstone once more Ginerva tried to figure out why she was still here. She felt that even though she wasn’t directly involved she still felt somewhat involved. Even though she had stayed hidden she was a witness now.

“No, no, don’t hurt me! I’ll go, I’ll go, just don’t-”

Ginerva turned around and peaked from behind the tombstone again just in time to watch the protector’s boot come in contact with the mugger’s head. Grimacing Ginerva realized that since the man was no longer moving he probably wasn’t an issue anymore, to anyone. Finally the brunette walked around from behind the tombstone and walked out into the clear. She over the unconscious man and nudged him with the heel of her boot, and then she finally spoke.

“It doesn’t look like this man’ll be any trouble,” Ginerva commented softly. She moved in closer so that she could see the protector’s hand and added, “But that will be trouble if you don’t get help soon. If you don’t mind me suggesting, I think you should go find a doctor right away. I’ll go fetch the authorities to handle the attacker.”

”Sir, I-“ The girl swallowed, and then began again, ”I would rather see you win against such a horrid man, than worry about manners at such a time."

“You are most kind, Miss,” Nils replied, pronouncing his words slightly differently than the Englishwoman did hers. The girl asked then if she could see his hand, and the other woman came up and prodded the mugger’s forcibly reposing form, and then remarked that Nils would need a doctor, offering to fetch the authorities while he attended to his hand. Nils said to the girl, “Of course. I only hope it shall not greatly discomfit you. It is rough and the blood is most unsightly.”

He then addressed the woman. “I appreciate the offer, but it would really be unpardonable to my conscience to allow you to walk unescorted on my behalf.” He sighed, and added, “It was only good fortune that I was passing this place; I fear both of you might have suffered an ill fate if I had not been. Tell me, where are your escorts? I believe that I should feel more comfortable if we might send one of them for the constables.” He would make certain to berate their escorts, although not in the hearing of them out of consideration for their nerves, which must be already strained, for leaving two such ladies unattended.

But then it occurred to him that they might be each other’s escorts. It was within propriety for two women to walk out, although never for a single woman. In that case he might be wrong in assuming that he could send a man to get the police. So he added, “Or did you accompany each other?” And then he realised he was following Danish customs again, instead of the confoundedly complex English ones. It was rude here, he remembered, to address any woman of good birth, as these two obviously were, without an invitation, and of course, it was necessary to be introduced.

“I am sorry that I could not have come to meet both of you under more genteel circumstances,” he apologised. “But events being what they have been, I cannot make the proper introductions; we will have to settle for informality. I am Nils Jørgensen. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?” He said it so that it was clear that the inquiry was directed at both of the two women.

“You are most kind, Miss,” ... “Of course. I only hope it shall not greatly discomfit you. It is rough and the blood is most unsightly.”

Marie wished very much that she could change her mind about assisting with this bleeding hand, but she was firmly set on helping the man who had rescued her. It was the right thing to do, after all. "No no, it's... quite fine." She assured him, with the faintest of reassuring smiles. "I only hope that I shall not injure you any further than that criminal has already done." Marie frowned delicately at Nils' hand, while she held out her handkerchief, and pressed it lightly onto the wounds across each finger. Marie swallowed.. Perhaps this man had been correct in saying that the blood would be most unsightly. But, she could not let him know how she felt about it, because she wanted badly to help him in whatever way that she could.

After all... he had come to her rescue without so much as a second thought.

"Tell me, where are your escorts? I believe that I should feel more comfortable if we might send one of them for the constables.”

"I've only traveled with my governess today, I am afraid. My father resides at home."

This was true. Marie usually only traveled with her Governess, and her father usually never bothered to send her out with a male escort, for her knew none that he could trust with his daughter. Let it be known, that Marie's governess was not one to be trifled with.

“I am sorry that I could not have come to meet both of you under more genteel circumstances,” he apologised. “But events being what they have been, I cannot make the proper introductions; we will have to settle for informality. I am Nils Jørgensen. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?”

Marie's eyes slowly shifted from his hand to his eyes. Quickly, she looked back down. "Marie James, sir." She said quietly, "Mr. Jørgensen, may I be so bold as to thank you with my whole heart for saving my very life?" This cracked the smallest of nervous smiles upon her lips. Marie never usually spoke to men she wasn't already acquainted with, so meeting a man was always a little odd for her. Especially the ones who had saved her life.

Ginerva looked down at the ginger haired girl then back up at the protector. Even when she was younger than the girl she had never had a male escort in her life. It was obvious to Ginerva that in a lot of ways she was the odd one out in this assembly. The protector seemed to believe that both she and the girl were of high status, but the truth was Ginerva was no where near that. She was simply the sort of woman who walked around without a male escort, or any escort, and who only greeted people formally when conducting business. There were few times when Ginerva did it for more social reasons but as always Ginerva decided to just play along.

“Mister Jørgensen, Miss James, It is an honor to make your acquaintances,” Ginerva greeted earnestly, although she decided to keep the whereabouts of her non existent escort to herself, “My name is Ginerva Roberts.”

"Mr. Jørgensen, may I be so bold as to thank you with my whole heart for saving my very life?"

Ginerva looked down at Miss James who was still attending to Mister Jørgensen’s bleeding hand. She too had wondered why Mister Jørgensen had put so much into saving the life of Miss James, but Ginerva had come up with some reasons. For one thing it was the gentleman’s way to rescue young ladies from stressful situations. The other reason she had come up with was that Miss James was a rather attractive young lady, probably unmarried at that. Perhaps Mister Jørgensen was hoping that afterwards he might be granted the privilege of courting the young Miss James.

Ginerva paused and bit her lip as she suddenly felt uncomfortable with herself. How terrible was she for thinking such inappropriate thoughts! Mister Jørgensen appeared to be a respectable man with only the most honorable motives for having done all this. And besides that Mister Jørgensen stumbled upon the situation in the same was Ginerva had: by sheer coincidence and luck. But still Miss James’ question was still out there to be answered…

Nils was too gallant to say it, but the girl’s attentions to his hand hurt almost worse than the original cut. He knew it was really only because he had been rather distracted when he had been cut, and that it was not hurting worse, but he could not help but wince. He was excessively pained by his own injuries because he took them too his head and thought that they must be very painful; he knew from past experience. His sister Grette would tell him, in two days’ time, that he was being a great infant and to stop coddling himself, he was sure. His mother, though near sixty and quite frail, would probably say something about men and nancies and how a man wouldn’t know real pain until he bore a child, and then give him a pointed look.

The girl introduced herself, and so did the woman, and now Nils had names for faces. Miss James allowed that she was accompanied only by her governess, and Miss Roberts neglected to mention any escort at all. Nils, although not the keenest if wits, was intelligent enough; he figured this to mean she had no escort. It would be rude for him to remark upon the lack, so he was preparing to work around it when Miss James delivered an earnest expression of her gratitude to him.

Nils smiled at her wording; she reminded him very much of his youngest sister Anca. Anca was a very self-possessed girl, and was always earnest in everything she did. Miss James would probably get along very well with her, he thought. He would have to see if he could introduce the two at some point. Perhaps Grette would know how it could be arranged; he was forever forgetting the proper English forms of these things, likely the reason that he did not have a wife. Well, that and because he was unable to find one that suited him.

The English often thought strange things. They could not understand why he had not taken a young wife; his brother-in-law, the Englishman Robert Johnson, had remarked upon it more than once. But Nils had no desire to take a young creature as a wife. Robert would have pointed out, were he here, that Miss James was eminently a suitable candidate, and that Nils had just saved her life, and would have then remarked to Nils that he should take the opportunity to attempt to create a suit. Nils would only have smiled and gone his own way. But now that the though occurred to him, he realised that Miss James or Miss Roberts might view the incident in the same light as his brother-in-law, and realised he would need to make it clear that he had no interest in her in such a way.

Thus he replied to Miss James, “I appreciate the sentiment, but there is no need. I could not let anything happen to a woman, but especially not to you; your appearance reminds me very much of my youngest sister. I should not be a man if I allowed such a crime to occur while I passed by.” He neglected to mention that he had only thought she was like his sister after he had seen her clearly, and not while he had been fighting the mugger; this way she would know he was not interested in her in any inappropriate way without ever actually stating that he was not. Proper English delicacy would be preserved.

He was momentarily at a loss to continue, because he had been counting upon their escorts for his next step. How to propose something else without embarrassing Miss Roberts for her lack of one? And then he had an idea, but it occurred to him just before he stated it that he didn’t know if Miss Roberts was a Miss. Perhaps she was married? She was well old enough, but then her husband should have been escorting her. There was nothing for it, though; although he was sure to get a discreet earful if he was wrong. “It is important that we get this man into the hands of justice. Perhaps, Miss James, if I might borrow your handkerchief, and if I might borrow your ribbon there, Miss Roberts, I could fashion a temporary dressing for my hand and we might move him to the Cathedral. I am sure they would have someone we could send for the authorities there.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but there is no need. I could not let anything happen to a woman, but especially not to you; your appearance reminds me very much of my youngest sister. I should not be a man if I allowed such a crime to occur while I passed by.”

Marie felt her cheeks turn rosey. "Your sister should be very proud to call yourself, Sir, her brother." She could only imagine, for but a moment, what having a brother like Nils would be like. Marie had never had a brother that lived long enough to know her. However, she should have liked to think that her father would come to her same rescue.

“It is important that we get this man into the hands of justice. Perhaps, Miss James, if I might borrow your handkerchief, and if I might borrow your ribbon there, Miss Roberts, I could fashion a temporary dressing for my hand and we might move him to the Cathedral. I am sure they would have someone we could send for the authorities there.”

"Yes, of course." She responded promptly, letting her hand leave her handkerchief so it rested, folded messily in his palm. Moments went by, and Marie realized that she had been sitting upon the ground. Hastily, she stood and brushed off her first skirt, then glanced hastily down down at Nils. Hopefully he would be okay, once they found help and got the man in the graveyard taken away.

With a glance at Ginerva, Marie piped up, "It is a pleasure to meet you," She said quietly, a tiny smile resting upon her lips. If she was glad about anything at the moment, she was glad that the mugger hadn't seen Ginerva there too, otherwise Nils would have had quite a job on his hands.

Making sure that Nils' hand was completely bandaged, and set to be moved about, Marie set off towards the Cathedral, nervously playing with the ribbon to her hat. Whomever would be there to assist them might know of her neglect towards the church. Just what I need.. she thought with a small frown. With one turn back of her head to make sure the other two were still with her, Marie gracefully climbed the steps up to the Cathedral, then stepped inside, hasty to cross herself.

Her large blue eyes searched the little room before the actual church, for anyone that might be of assistance, and finally she found a man, dressed in robes. "Excuse me sir!" She called warily, approaching, then lowering herself briefly in a kind of curtsy.

"Good heavens, Miss James, we have not seen you here in quite a while. I trust that your faith is still perfectly in tact?"

Marie inwardly grimaced, "Yes," She answered smally, nodding just briefly. The Priest gave her a 'look' but consented to let her continue with the nod of his head.

"There is currently a man in the graveyard, who had initially tried to rob me. Mr. Jørgensen came to my rescue, however, and in good fortune was able to render the man unconscious. You will find him resting by a large tomb." That had to have been the most she'd spoken in a long while to someone she had not known more than a few minutes.

Marie looked over her shoulder, looking for Nils. Hastily, she parted her lips as if to say something, but shut them again. She knew he had much better people skills than she did, and therefore would probably be able to handle the situation much better.

Nils padded the handkerchief to the bone-deep cuts in his hand, trying mightily not to wince. Miss Roberts gave him her ribbon, and graciously tied it for him since he could not himself with only one good hand. He then offered his arm so she would have something to stabilize herself on while they crossed the rough spots in the path and the two of them set off after Marie, who had gone ahead a little ways. Nils, attempting to take his mind off his hand, which seemed to hurt worse each passing moment and each jarring step, made small talk with Miss Roberts until they reached the Cathedral. There they found that Miss James had already found a priest.

Seeing Miss James glance at him as if for help, Nils stepped forward. Miss Roberts, apparently sensing he wanted a private moment with the priest, disengaged her arm from his. Nils led the man to just enough distance where the women would not hear his lowered words other than as an indistinct murmur, and then told the priest, “There is indeed a man in the graveyard, Father, but Miss James was too polite to say what he really intended. He sought to take her honour, and threatened her life when I came. I can only image what horrors he would have done to her had I not come.”

“The Lord provides deliverance for us all, my son, but sometimes he does so through human agents,” the priest said. “Clearly you were in the cemetery today for a reason.”

Nils, uncomfortable with the subject of religion most times but particularly reluctant to discuss it with this man, a priest of a faith other than Nils’ own Lutheran branch of Christianity, shifted his shoulders vaguely at that. “Perhaps, Father, although I simply did what any man of honour would have done. My purpose in telling you what that man was about, however, was to impress upon you the severity of his crimes and the dangerous nature of his character. He must be held until the constables arrive, in case he awakens.”

“Of course.” The priest turned from Nils and glided into the main Cathedral proper, returning shortly thereafter with two church gardeners. The men got the mugger’s exact location, by the tomb of Mary Bartleby (1670-1712) and her three children, in one of the older sections of the cemetery, and then left to collect him. They returned shortly later, with the mugger, and locked him in a small room; it looked like he would be unconscious for some time yet. Nils’ foot had not been kind. During this time the priest washed Nils’ hand and bandaged it slightly more expertly, although he still needed to see a doctor.

Then all that was left was to wait for the constables.

Marie watched Nils speak to the priest, and cast a look to Ginerva. She slowly saught out to speak with her, but immediately heard a shrill voice calling her name.

"Marie!?!"

Marie's expression matched that of a small puppy being scolded. "Oh no.." She whispered, to herself, beginning to move towards the door.

"Marie James! You make your self known to me at ONCE!"

The young girl swallowed, then turned back so that she might catch the gaze of Mr. Jørgensen. "Mr. Jørgensen!" She called, wafting over to him, "I cannot thank you enough for saving my very life this afternoon. If you had not been passing by, I am not quite sure where I would be at this very moment. I should hope to see you again, perhaps for a dinner, or another meal. I'm certain that my father would be eternally greatful to meet you, and thank you aswell. Please take this into consideration, for I-,"

"Marie-Child! Where are you?"

Marie sighed regretably, and moved backwards a soft, thankful smile upon her lips. While moving back, she nearly knocked into Ginerva. "Oh," She squeaked softly, "Pardon me Ms. Roberts," With a soft smile, Marie moved completely to the door, where she was met by her Governess, who looked less than happy to see her, but more or less relieved.

"Someone was speaking of a murder! Child, are you perfectly alright?"

Marie tilted her head slightly as her Governess pulled her from the chapel. Once outside, Marie was met the Constable and his men. After giving them her information, Marie half walked, and was half dragged back to her home for the rest of the evening, recalling the events of that day, and how they would effect her for the rest of her life.

[Next post in: A Simple Matter of Transactions ]

Miss James’ governess came to collect her, in a tizzy for her safety, interrupting her charge as she was in the process of inviting Nils to visit. He smiled as she backed away, and promised to call soon so that she would feel able to go with her governess without worrying the woman more. Miss James almost ran into Miss Roberts as she left, and then the constables came in. They took Miss Roberts to a seat in the main part of the cathedral and began to question her.

Nils they took a little ways away, and after glancing at his bandaged hand and the way he carried it curled to him, promised him that they would only take a moment of his time. He knew that they separated the two of them to get different stories and try to see if there were any inconsistencies in them that would indicate that either of them lied, but Nils couldn’t help but feel that Miss Roberts might be a bit beleaguered by all the sudden happenings of today. He answered all the questions that the constables asked, from who he was and where he lived to what he was doing in the cathedral graveyard to what had taken place.

He was getting a bit tired of the repetitive questions when an inspector walked up to him. The man carried a strange accent to his English, which was explained when he introduced himself as Inspector Grover from London. ”You are Mr. Nils Jørgensen, staying at 21 Whitechurch-street?” he asked.
“I am,” replied Nils tiredly.
”I am sorry to hold you when you are injured, but this is an important arrest. The man you disabled was Alexander Robertson. He escaped from custody after I apprehended him in London. He has killed a woman and raped five others.”
Nils paled at the information. To think that Miss James had been in the clutches of a creature such as that; Robertson couldn’t even really be called a man. “I am happy to have been able to assist in bringing him to justice, although I had no idea who he was.”

”We will need you to witness at the court proceedings, Mr. Jørgensen. Can we trust that we can find you at your lodgings on Whitechurch-street?”
“How long would I need to stay in town? I am captain of a merchant vessel, as I told your men.”
”Perhaps as much as six months. It is very important that this man be tried without delay, but it may take longer than I like.”
“I see.” Nils frowned. He could send his ship on with his mate, but he didn’t like that. He had no pending contracts at the moment; that was why he was still in Lindebo, to seek a new cargo. But he could not put upon his sister and her husband for half a year’s time. “I will stay in Lindebo for that time, Inspector Grover, but I will have to change my lodgings. I cannot impose upon my sister that long.”
”Of course.” The Inspector handed Nils a small card with the address of the police headquarters. ”I only ask that you inform us of the location, when you move.”
“Of course, Inspector.”

The Inspector exchanged wishes for health with Nils and then informed him he was free to go. The merchant captain turned and saw that the constables had finished talking to Miss Roberts as well. He remembered his conjecture earlier, and realised he still had one more duty here before this was finished. He gently slid into the seat across from where the constables had seated her, and said, “Miss Roberts, I did not want to mention it before in case it should offend you, but I think that you have no escort. I should like to offer to fill the position for you, just until you get home; I cannot help but be impressed of the danger of you walking alone after the events of this afternoon.” He hoped she would not be offended by his temerity, but he really did not want to see her in danger. To lighten the mood, he smiled gently and added, “I also owe you a ribbon; I cannot return yours—it’s been rather ruined.”