Lechance

Effie was still tucking her shawl back into place as she came out of Dr. Roberts' office, a shy smile on her face as she looked for her husband. Four months gone, and she was beginning to show, stays laced looser, and her dresses let out as far as their seams would allow.

It was a clear morning when Effie set out to find Mr. Nordstrom's store. She still wasn't quite used to walking around town alone, but there was nothing improper to it. No longer. Nothing improper, either, in a married woman calling at a gentleman's outfitters.

A light shawl was draped around her shoulders, and a basket on her arm held samples of thread and lace. The doorbell chimed as she opened it, blinking slightly to adjust her eyes to the lower light levels inside the store. "Mr. Nordstrom? Are ye in?"

Effie wasn't entirely calm about the notion of entertaining her first visitor in Jonathan's house. She'd made sure the parlour was clean, that there was fresh cake, and that the tea was set and ready to come through. All she needed now was her visitor.

And oh, stars, she couldn't just sit quietly waiting. Instead, she sat at her desk, carefully removing pins from a length of edging, and placing them into the pincushion tied to her wrist.

It was only a short walk from the square to the house, and no signs of it belonging to an undertaker. Effie led the way up the steps and across the porch, opening the door and unpinning her hat as she went into the hallway. "Tis surprised I am that your husband and mine dinna hae closer acquaintance."

Mrs. Effield Ibis entreats the company of Miss. Sadie Blackwood to tea, and begs that she will advise a suitable date.

With kind regards,

E. Ibis

[OOC notes: Players, please check ooc post here for more information. The ooc post will be updated as the thread progresses.]

They'd met in the Town Square shortly after 1.30pm.

When it was clear that every one was there, Jonas swung up onto his borrowed mount, called Digger near, and addressed the assembled folk from horseback.

"First off, may I jus' take the opportunity to tell you how grateful this town, and indeed myself and my team are for all your valuable help and support over this last while. Hopefully now we're actually getting somewhere, but I won't lie to you, this situation is still potentially very dangerous. And so I must urge you to practice extreme caution at every turn. Your safety is paramount above and beyond anything we may find. Stick together, no wanderin' off the path. Buddy up whenever you can, even if nature calls, beggin' your pardon. Deputy Charles has your names duly noted, and we'll be checking on folks along the way. Please be aware of everything around you. If you see something out of place, unusual tracks, items, sights, sounds, hell, even smells, please bring them to the attention of either myself, or Deputies Coleman or Charles."

He waited until he was sure everyone had absorbed the information so far before continuing. "Right, we're going to head up to the trail the patrol took and past their shelter from the other night, and up on up to the fissure to the co-ordinates that Sheriff Bowbuck left behind him when he left. If we encounter any strange weather on the way, everyone is to head for that shelter, is that understood?" 

The assembled patrol murmured their agreement. "Good, good. Right. I'll head up the column for now." He looked to his deputies. "Leo, can you take the back of the line, and Andrew, if you could ride out alongside as spotter? We'll be stopping for breaks along the way so that I can check on progress and where everyone is up to. First of these I suggest'll be just up from the shelter. There's a bit of a flat area just up beyond it. We'll stop there."

He looked around the folk gathered, "And I just pray that the good Lord'll be shinin' on us, and we'll find somethin' useful. Everyone got watches to hand?" He took his out of his waistcoat pocket, and checked it against the town clock. "Happen it's now 2pm. Worse comes to worse an' we get separated, everyone's to report back here afore 4.30pm. Any questions?" he finished, looking around. "Speak up now if so." 

His eyes scanned over those assembled to look for any hands, or people shouting out with questions.

James was stood in front of a florists shop, staring confusedly at the labels adorning the displays of loose flowers that were out in front of him. He put on his glasses, and squinted as he tried to make sense of the name on the tub nearest to him. Exhaling heavily, he turned and saw someone else looking vaguely towards him. "Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the language of flowers perchance?"

Effie was taking advantage of the warm weather, and sitting out on the porch of the house with her pillow on her lap. Her feet were tucked up on a stool, as she still had lingering nerves about whatever those metal skittering things had been returning, and she was certain those had been responsible for the damage to her threads. Such a little thing, in appearance, but so much to her. The box of threads was at her side, another box of bobbins next to it, and she was trying to wind pairs to start the next pattern.

Trying. The thread came to an abrupt end again, and she swore fervently, very Glaswegian and thoroughly unladylike, before glancing up and blushing hard, eyes widening as she caught sight of the person passing on the street. "Oh, I'm that sorry, ye'll forgive me, please, for saying such?"

The warmer weather didn't seem to mean that the evenings didn't draw in any later. Effie was sitting in the parlour in the late afternoon, her lamp lit to cast light over her pillow and her feet securely on a footstool when she paused, looked up at the calendar on the wall, and frowned slightly. One hand strayed down to press her skirts to her stomach, then back to the buttons over the lacing of her corset, before returning to her pillow.

When Jonathan came home, she was still sitting there, her hands idle, the room dark except for the lacemaker's lamp on the desk next to her pillow, her eyes closed, head still upright as was her posture in the upright chair she used for work.

Effie rarely slept heavily. A warm December still felt wrong to her, after Boston and Glasgow, but even without the warmth, and the restlessness left from leaving the chamomile teas the apothecary had recommended, she still slept lightly.

When the scratching started, it slipped into her dreams. As it continued, it turned them to nightmares, translating to moving furniture and nails scraping against bolted wooden doors. When it still didn't stop, she woke, suddenly, still and stiff, her eyes wide in the darkness and a chill left from the nightmares that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Oh, stars, she was going mad. She had to be. First the whistle that no one had heard, and now...the scratching. On and on, on the edge of hearing, on the edge of waking, keeping her so still beyond the occasional tremble she could not stop, silent to try not to disturb Jonathan from sleep beside her.

Thursday morning, and Effie had a pair of gloves completed, lifted, laundered and stitched, and packaged ready to go. Her first expedition to the post office without a chaperon - without needing one.

A fine, bracing morning, and she tugged her shawl snugly around her shoulders, head held high and parcel held close as she turned the corner, bobbing a curtsy of greeting to the person approaching from the opposite direction. "Good morning to ye."

James was in the parlour that contained the Baby Grand in the Beloved's Hotel. It was the hour before midnight, and the room was in darkness, the heavy drapes closed. The only light was from a gas lamp that James had brought down from his room, and the dimmed light spilling in through the open door into the hall.  He was currently seated at the piano, the lid over the keys closed, his head resting on it as if to leech some comfort from it.

He was trying not to pace, he really was, hence sitting down, but it seemed like his stomach still wanted to move, even if he wasn't.

James had been sleeping better, he really had. His relationship with Paul was bringing him a great deal of peace, and the sleeping draught had helped some. But tonight it seemed like nothing had worked, and he'd been cursed with nightmares everytime he tried to rest his eyes.

He had at least dressed at least halfway to decent this time, favoured soft trousers, and a deep purple shirt. He was however still wearing his slippers.

Paul had told him to call for him if he had nightmares again, but James didn't want to drag him out over nothing. He worried that Paul would think he was using it as an excuse to see him. But god, he wished he was there to hold right now.

He crossed his arms under his head and sighed softly, before suddenly realising that there was a figure silhouetted in the doorway.

"Apologies. I didn't mean to disturb anyone from slumber," he said softly. "I wasn't intending to play the piano."

The ceremony had been simple, quiet, and Jonathan couldn't stop smiling. Couldn't stop looking startled, but couldn't stop smiling. He rubbed, gently, over the band around Effie's wrist. "It suits you, I think."

Over a week since she'd heard the sound, and Effie still wasn't sleeping soundly. Oh, twas improving, that was for sure, but with her wedding approaching, her mind was full, and her concentration poor. And she was not wishing to be married looking like a ghost.

It was time to do something about it.

Tucking a shawl around her shoulders against the light breeze that autumn had introduced to Lechance, and requesting the accompaniment of one of the hotel's chaperones, Effie made her way to the apothecary's shop. A bell chimed as she pushed the door open, moving into the quiet, orderly interior, and she stepped up to the counter, looking for the proprietor. "Good morning?"

Saturday, and Effie's head was whirling. So many things to discuss, so much, and all of it important. Not that they couldn't change the contract later if necessary, if they both agreed, but she wanted it right first time. Nerves and anticipation and happiness warred for her attention, all hidden under a veneer of calm as she waited in the small hotel parlour for Mr. Ibis to arrive.

By the window, a small desk held numerous sheets of paper and several pens, spare nibs, and ink, to record their discussions and decisions.

Jon was sitting outside his office trying to enjoy the weather. He was smiling, but despite that he looked worried. He was now a married man and he toyed absently with the black leather band around his wrist. The week had been absolutely amazing. Ben was perfect and he couldn't have been happier.

Except.

Except for an odd occurrence on Friday night when muted voices had distracted the newlyweds from being..well, newlyweds. The voices got louder in the basement, but neither of them could find anything causing them. Jon had tried to play it off as someone poking a bit of fun at them, but something about it had set him on edge. He wondered if he should talk to someone about it. Maybe the Sheriff?

When someone walked by, Jon smiled and nodded his head. "Good morning," he said politely, "How are you this fine morning?"

Dear Miss Blackwood,

Mr. Ibis and I have agreed that our wedding shall be on November 1st - will this give enough time for a dress? Please do let me know!

Sincerely,

Effield Gallehawk

It was after dinner, a bit late perhaps to be calling but Sadie needed to talk to Effie and she didn't think that the other woman would mind some company.

She left her room at the hotel and sought out the lacemaker, looking for her first in the sitting room and, not seeing her there, heading up to Effie's personal rooms. She knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to disturb her if she'd already taken to bed.

Jon showed up Sunday afternoon, after church with a sheave of flowers and a book of poetry. He sent a maid for Effie and when she arrived, offered the flowers and asked, "Come with me?"

Some things take particular bits of talent. Take, for instance, the ability to get lost while walking in a straight line. He had a terrible habit of fogging out a bit while he was walking, and somehow the simple trip from the shop back to the hotel had turned into a much longer walk. He was in a bit of town he didn't recognize; he thought perhaps he had passed the hotel, but he very well may have turned and not realized it.

He adjusted his hat and sighed. "Excuse me," he said to the lady who was just passing by. "I'm a bit lost, I think. I wonder if you could give me directions?"