Simon veered off down a side street, ducking down along the side of the shabby tenement, listening for voices. He heard the low hum of a man’s voice and the tremulous tone of a woman’s.

Marion.

She sounded scared. Simon leaned against the dirty brick wall, breathing hard for a moment, trying to control his rage. He wanted to kill whoever had brought that tone into her voice. Clenching his hands into fists, he took a deep breath. He sidled further along until, hidden in the shadow of the alley, he was able to slowly approach a thin, grimy window. He peered inside, making sure his face remained in shadow. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Marion was in the room, and so was the man. And he had a gun.

* * *

“Sit down.”

Marion looked around the shabby room, dismayed. This was clearly where her father was living. It was a disgusting room with several dirty-looking mattresses and one desk with a wobbly chair. It obviously served as a place to rest the heads of whatever criminals or vagrants passed through. Marion had imagined that her father might be a gambler and a cheater, a man with great debts, but she had never thought that he would be the type of man brought to squalor.

“I mean it, sit down.”

Ted tapped the gun against the rickety chair, his eyes angry. Marion moved through the room cautiously, lifting the hem of her gown to keep it off the floor. Ted smirked at her, smiling derisively.

“Are my lodgings not up to your high standards,My Lady?” He gestured to her dress with the barrel of the gun. “Afraid of a little dirt? Shall I fetch you a napkin to sit on?”

Marion refused to be baited. She stepped primly up to the desk by the window and sat, looking down at the table. A sheaf of paper was set out, a pen beside it. She looked up at Ted in confusion.

“Not getting it yet, are you?” Ted shook his head, clicking his teeth. “He really didn’t marry you for your mind, did he?”

Marion flushed at the cruel words but tried to keep her emotions in check. Her father wanted to hurt her, he wanted to see her anger—this much Marion was sure of. Why else would he be so deliberately provocative? She shuffled slightly in the chair and looked at the paper.

“I was under the impression you were capable of writing, Father,” she said curtly. “Do you really need help drafting your missives?”

Ted’s face darkened at the slight and he prodded Marion with the barrel of the gun. Marion couldn’t help but flinch, even though she hated herself for it. Ted smirked, pleased by her response.

“I don’t need your assistance in that manner,daughter,” he said. The barrel of the gun was pressed against her shoulder. Marion could feel the cold metal through her sleeve and pelisse. She could feel terrified tears burning in the corners of her eyes, but she lifted her chin, determined to stare her father down.

“Then what do you need?” she asked.

“It is not what I need, it is what you need,” Ted said, leaning forward. Marion tried not to flinch away from his smelly breath and sweaty body odour. “You need to live, don’t you? So write to your husband and ask for money. Then you will live. If you do not,” the barrel of the gun pressed harder against her arm, “then I will shoot you.”

Marion swallowed hard. She had no doubt that he was telling the truth. If he shot her, he would very likely shoot her in the head and she would undoubtedly die from such a wound. Her head was swimming with the possibility of it, and there was a ringing headache in front of her eyes as if her body was already imagining what it would feel like to be invaded by a small shot that would cause death.

“You - you want me to ask my husband for ransom?” she asked, her mouth dry.

“Yes.” Ted moved behind her. She felt the path of the barrel of the gun as it moved above her collar, to the patch of bare skin underneath her hair. The fine hairs on the back of her neck immediately sprang up in reaction to the chilled, deadly metal. Marion stiffened. Ted placed a sweaty hand against her shoulder. She longed to shrug him off but did not dare.

“And if I decide not to write this ransom note for you?” Marion croaked, feeling so fragile that she might break at any moment, but also, a detached part of her was still determined not to let her father win. She was not sure what that even looked like, but she knew that at every turn she wanted to present defiance.

“Oh, my dear little daughter.”

Marion felt Ted’s hand drift down her shoulder, stroking her with a longing touch that made Marion breathe heavily through her nose, afraid of where this was going. She watched out of the corner of her eye, scared to turn her head as his hand swept down her arm to her own hand, gently caressing the back of it in a way that made Marion close her eyes briefly out of disgust, then coming to rest on her wedding finger.

“If you don’t agree to write it, then I shall…” Marion watched as her father’s fingers twisted her engagement ring smartly, painfully, and tears popped in Marion’s eyes. Then the gun was moved from the back of her neck to rest firmly, painfully, against the knuckle of her fourth finger. “… pull the trigger and shoot off your finger. Then I shall send it to your husband.”

Her father lifted it up, painfully pulling it back so it clicked and Marion gasped, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “And then I shall write a message in your blood. Do you understand, sweet daughter?”

Marion nodded tremulously, not trusting herself to speak. The gun was removed, placed back at the nape of her neck. Ted’s rough hand brushed her cheek crudely, and he grinned down at her tears. Marion breathed in and out through her nose, trying to control her fear despite the shaking that had taken over her body.

“There’s a problem,” she said, clenching her fist on the table as the metal barrel of the gun pressed more firmly into the bone at the top of her spine.

“What?”

Marion swallowed hard, trying to control herself. This was perhaps the only thing she could do to save herself, and to save Simon. She didn’t imagine for a moment that her father intended to let her live. The only way he might relinquish an interest in her is if he believed that Simon would not think Marion was a worthy enough cause to release funds for. Marion had no doubt that Simon cared for her immensely, and of course he would pay a ransom to save her, but their marriage was new. It had been unexpected and it was widely known that it was not a love-match. Marion thought there was a chance, just a chance, that she might be able to use that to her advantage.