Agatha

a short story

Marius Knightley adjusted his bow tie and glanced at the bed that made a creaking sound as he stood. The area where he sat formed an unruly crease but what he noticed was the trace of blood on the white sheets. It made him smile, as if satisfied of what he- no, what they have done. And then his eyes wandered on the small feet that were partially covered by the thick blanket.

 “Goodbye Agatha” he said in a low voice, and with one final glance, left the dark room. Because he did not go home that night, he had to ride the carriage before daybreak. The town of Marcellus was miles away from Loire so if he left by three, he would arrive at six.

Gareth, his servant, was still asleep and Marius had to pull the old man’s whiskers to wake him. Once he rose, the two went back to the carriage and drove home.

“Where have you stayed the night?” his sister Cornelia asked him during breakfast, but he told her a lie by saying that he had to retire at a friend’s house because he was drunk. The sister of course knew that he did not speak of the truth but chose to remain silent.

  On his bed, he recalled what his best friend once asked him: Why would you not settle with one woman? You are almost at the right age to marry. And then Marius answered this: I’m afraid I cannot do that. It is much fun playing with many than with one. “I do not understand why you would go as far as calling it a game. If you insist, however, you may tell me your adventure with these ladies” the ever good-natured Arthur calmly said, but Marius could vaguely remember the events that led him to meeting these women. One of the tales he managed to recall was when he was visiting the market and saw a young lady with a fair countenance that he did not waste any moment and immediately talked to her. She was reserved and did not talk much, but after days of sweet-talking, he finally got what he wanted. The night he slept with her would be the last night he would ever see her face, he thought. But a week after that, when he was having his morning coffee, the news about a lady of a noble descent who had killed herself reached him. And he froze on his seat when he read the name on the paper.

“You have abandoned her?” Arthur asked him.

“Look here-”

“That would make you a murderer!”

Arthur’s words echoed inside his head and haunted him even in his dreams. One of the awful nightmares he had ever had was about a woman who kept on watching him wherever he went. She never blinked, and the sinister smile she had the moment she started to appear was carved in his brain. He hated how he would have the same kind of dream every night, and once he even cursed Arthur for calling him a murderer.

Although he felt guilty over what happened, Marius soon got over it. That was exactly right after the oddity stopped appearing on his dreams. The name of the woman he indirectly killed was something that the past owned and he would never dare lay a finger on it. Soon, he went back on his usual lifestyle and even hooked up with another innocent rabbit. Her name was Agatha.

 Agatha was of a poor descent. Her mother worked as a maid in an earl’s estate while her father could barely find a decent, long-term job. Apart from those and her name, Marius could not recall anything about Agatha at all. She once told him about her only brother but he could not remember any further details about him. He believed that it didn’t matter for he never planned on seeing her again. He knew of course that it was not for him to decide. After all, fate had been terribly fond of playing games with him. And Agatha was different, he was sure of it.

Not long after his last rendezvous with Agatha, Duke Henry who was an old friend of the Knightley’s, hosted a party for the return of his son from Campania. It was there that the old Duke introduced Marius to a young widow of the late Lord Barton. The said young woman was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever beheld, and on that instant his lust for power over fragile, beautiful women overcame him. Coincidentally, Lady Barton’s desire for him was just as plain as daylight, and he took pride on it. 

“Is something wrong?” the Lady asked her when they turned on a corner, eager to escape everyone’s eyes.

Marius smiled at her. “Have you gone impatient, Milady?” he teased, and although he tried to ignore it, the image of a fit damsel he had caught a glimpse of, disturbed him and reminded him greatly of Agatha. I cannot consider the thought of her being here. But was she Agatha indeed?

Lady Barton led him to a dark room, the farthest one from the hallway. However, once they were inside, he told her to leave. When asked why, he could only say he had lost his desire for her and she bore him. It was not a lie this time, for he realized it was Agatha whom he desired. Clearly, the lady was displeased but too proud to show a hint of her displeasure that she immediately left the room.

Marius remained silent, but the door opened once more, and thinking that it was her, he shouted “Did I not tell you to leave? Go away, this instant.”

“It is me, Marius.”

He did not recognize the voice, but it gave him a sense of familiarity and nostalgia. In the end, he was right. The girlish figure on the door, and the face that was illuminated by the oil lamp she was holding, all belonged to her.

“Agatha!” he cried, spreading his arms. “You are here!”

“Yes, I have come to see you…” Agatha jumped into his embrace. Marius was delighted to hold her again, but no sooner did he realize that something was strange about the person he thought was Agatha. First, her voice. Second, her shoulders. And third, he discovered when he put his hand on her chest. “-and kill you.”

“Who are you?” Marius asked, his face painted with horror. He pulled away from her, but it was too late. The dagger had been buried deep down his heart and a rich fountain of bright, red liquid oozed from the hateful wound. “You are not Agatha!”

“Agatha was pregnant but her body was too weak to carry a child. You must be pleased to hear about her death. You knew she was frail as an orchid yet you abandoned her. Alas! Abandonment was the death more painful than death itself.”

Marius could not speak and all his spirit had left him.

Blood. The blood from his mouth and chest soaked him. And it had also begun to cover the floor. Was it the prize for stealing Agatha’s chastity?

“I am her twin brother, Mordred. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Knightley.”

Mordred smiled, slowly pulling the knife off Marius’ chest and thrusting it again.

“And good bye, Mr. Knightley.” 

Author's Note

please tell me what you think about the words and the story as a whole :D