A Caring Man

[Alastor]

Gerald received sympathy from the whole village when he cared for his first wife through her mysterious illness. When they had first met, Sarah had been young and vibrant. Everyone was astonished when her health suddenly deteriorated, but they agreed that it was a blessing from the gods that she had happened across a handsome young man who, atypically for thoughtless youth, seemed content to linger in the sickroom with his beloved, feeding her with his own hands.

Sarah's parents were particularly grateful to him. After their daughter's life was finally claimed by her inexplicable malady, just over two years after her marriage, they were among the few who did not rebuke Gerald for the speed with which he found a new bride. They were also among the slightly larger minority which attributed the sudden weakness of his second wife, Penelope, to bad luck on Gerald's part, or at worst a taste for a certain waifishness in his paramours which pointed to a weak constitution.

There were even a few who continued making excuses after the death of that second wife, when Sarah's parents themselves suddenly found their health turning for the worse, but after their protracted sickness and inevitable demises had run their courses, no one remained in town who would dare to let a daughter, sister, or cousin dance with Gerald, and any invitation he made to dinner was politely deflected.

The gossip still was quiet; after all, the local constable had been unable to find any signs of murder on the bodies or in Gerald's house and the experienced detective she'd summoned from the city out of suspicion the third time arrived too late to examine a pristine scene. The detective the city sent seemed less than focused on the task at hand in any event: his record indicated that he'd been quite competent at one point, but now it seemed he was more interested in finding a convenient spot to retire than in unravelling mysteries. When it was determined that the embalming process would have obscured any signs of foul play, the weary investigator announced that at least some good had emerged from the case: he would be purchasing a small bungalow just outside town and inviting his maiden niece, Monica, to reside with him.

Meanwhile, another set of newcomers had been establishing themselves in the village, a family from a city even more distant. Rumour had it that they had withdrawn into temporary exile because the younger of the two daughters, Rosalie, had fallen in love with a young man her parents considered unsuitable.

Everyone knows how closed the community of these small towns can be. The ex-inspector was occasionally visited by the the official leadership of the town, the local magistrate and anchorite, who felt it to be their obligation given the inspector's prior career. The town constable might have felt the same way, if she did not feel personally let down by the inspector's failure to really look into the suspicious deaths surrounding Gerald. The other family was given nearly as wide a berth as Gerald himself.

It may be no wonder then that Rosalie, Monica, and Gerald came to spend a lot of time together. The two young women were of almost the same age, and though Gerald was by this time a bit older, he wore the years with an unnatural lightness, aside from being as charming and altruistic as ever.

As the three of them trod the paths on the outskirts of town together, more than one local remarked that it was as if both Sarah and Penelope had been resurrected and walked hand in hand once more with the man whom they had each loved. If only one of those townsfolk had spoken at length with Rosalie, she might not have stepped into such intimacy with a man with such a dubious history. Monica ought already to have known, as she was privy to many of her uncle's conversations.

If Monica did know something, the other villagers reasoned, she ought to have warned her new friend against Gerald. If she did not, it would be Monica who was responsible for whatever happened, not them. In fact, the two young women frequently had discussions concerning their male companion outside of his presence. When Gerald's name happened to arise the course of other conversations, Monica could easily have turned to the subject of his past romances; instead she would usually draw the subject back to their homelands and families. Rosalie rarely tired of this subject, and particularly that of her old suitor Frederick.

The three had consorted at such a level of intimacy for only a few months before Gerald made his inevitable proposal to Rosalie. Again Monica could have intervened, but instead she merely smiled and excused herself for the rest of the afternoon, saying that she would prepare a surprise to celebrate their engagement. Once word of this latest development spread, some speculated that Monica dared not speak out against Gerald for fear her friend would accuse her of jealously. Others said that she really was jealous, that love had made her dismiss all the evidence against Gerald as simply malicious gossip. "Mark my words," one goodwife said, "Once Rosalie is out of the picture, Monica will be bride of the next marriage we "celebrate"."

About a week later, a man rode into town who none of the locals had ever seen before. He stopped in the local tavern to inquire after Rosalie's family. There was a great deal of speculation in the tavern after he had been sent on his way, as the young man was quite handsome and had an accent just the same as that of the family he sought.

That same night, Monica had organized an engagement party for her friend. Despite their misgivings, nearly all the villagers were in attendance. Perhaps they concluded that Gerald's charms presented little danger when he was already deep into his courtship of Rosalie.

The young newcomer to the town somehow found his way to Rosalie's engagement party. Rosalie recognized him immediately.

"Frederick, I thought I would never see you again!"

"Clearly, that was your hope," the young man, Frederick, said bitterly, "I see you have already replaced me in your heart with another."

"Never, never!" Rosalie replied, ignoring the chagrin on Gerald's face. "No one else can equal you!"

"Then leave this place with me. Come back to the city, or let us go anywhere you choose, so long as we are together!"

There was much gossip later about the hint of a smile which flashed across Monica's lips when Rosalie accepted.

Gerald did not take rejection well. He was seen for many weeks after that sulking around the places where Rosalie had formerly accompanied him. Those who were inclined to such critiques even said that he was starting to look older, as if the weariness of age had only been held off by the sweetness of love.

A few of the villagers even reverted to their previous feelings of sympathy for the man: after all he was one of them, cruelly jilted by an outsider. Yet none felt this sympathy deeply enough to join him on his walks, or to accept his invitations to the stately mansion he had inherited from his in-laws. That fell to Monica alone.

To the surprise of no one, Gerald made his proposal to Monica within a few seasons. The announcement of their engagement was made by the retired inspector to the whole town. Everyone was perplexed by the joy the old man seemed to take in this announcement, particularly the local constable.

"It is as if he has entirely forgotten what brought him here," she confided to her friends at the local tavern. "If he has become so obtuse that he thinks Gerald a good match, he should have retired much earlier."

She left the conversation soon after making that statement, to shut down a gambling pool some hard-hearted youngsters had been trying to set up. Normally, such pools were perfectly legal, but betting on how long a young bride would survive her marriage seemed to the constable to exceed the bounds of decency.

The marriage took place less than a month after it was announced, and was not well attended. The local anchorite refused to officiate, so another, an old friend of the retired inspector, had to be brought in from the city.

Gerald had suggested moving in with his latest wife, so that the two of them could care for her aging uncle. Monica insisted that her uncle was still self-sufficient and that it would be a shame to let the mansion at the edge of town stand unoccupied. Besides, the mansion was not so far from the bungalow where the old inspector lived - only a few minutes by foot. They agreed to live together in Gerald's house, at least until it found a renter.

On their first day in their new home, Gerald prepared his wife a bowl of soup. She refused at first, but eventually allowed him to leave it at her bedside. The moment he left her side, she poured the soup into a jar and returned to her uncle's bungalow with it. Her uncle's friend, who had still not left town, dabbled in alchemy. He would be able to tell exactly what it contained.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Interesting... Will you be writing more of this tale?

[Alastor]

Interesting... Will you be writing more of this tale?

I hadn't been planning to add more, but now that you point it out, the ending isn't entirely resolved, so possibly.

[litrla]

I Love the topic and it was a bit related to my favourite light novel solo levelling so I thought I should share

[Alastor]

The amateur alchemist held the glass up to the light, carefully inspecting the liquid inside for any discoloration.

"That was the last test," he said. "This soup does not contain any poison of which I am aware."

"How is that possible? All of the deaths which have occurred so far are consistent with nothing else," Monica said.

"It may be that you have not hidden your suspicions as carefully as you thought," her uncle mused aloud. "He may have decided to wait until your guard is lowered to begin poisoning you."

"Then he shall wait in vain," Monica said.

"But I shall have to return to the city in a few days," objected the anchorite. "How will you test any foodstuffs for poison without me present to do so for you?"

"And how will you persuade him that your guard has been lowered if you continue to refuse whatever meals he brings you?"

"I shall simply have to accept his gifts for a while. Whatever method he uses to kill his victims takes some time to work. Once I show signs of distress, you can test again - my blood if nothing else."

---------------------

The inhabitants of the village speculated quite a bit when Monica received a belated wedding present two whole months after her marriage to Gerald.

The widower's latest bride was already starting to look a little sickly by that time. Although she still insisted on doing her own errands, she had the pale complexion of someone who spent every day indoors and dark circles beneath her eyes as if she spent none of that time asleep. Even her movements were more lethargic than when she had first come to town, although someone who had seen little of her in the past might be hard-pressed to notice it.

Despite these symptoms of fading health, Monica was positively jubilant when she received the gift. She opened it as soon as she received the post, and so the postman was able to see that it was a single circular gemstone, attached to a simple gold chain.

When the postman recounted this to the locals, they were puzzled. Monica had always dressed simply. She seemed unlikely to be dazzled by jewels - and if she was, Gerald had enough wealth to have purchased her several.

It probably came from a dear friend, they finally decided - or perhaps from the parents who had abandoned the young woman to the care of her bachelor uncle.

Around a week later, the town luminaries went to pay their regular call on the old inspector. They found him just leaving to visit his niece and nephew-in-law, and were unable to devise a reasonable excuse when he invited them along.

Married life suited Gerald, they noted when he greeted them at the door. All of the years which had fallen so hard upon him for a time after Rosalie left seemed to have departed again. Monica hardly appeared so hale, but despite her evident fatigue, her beauty was intact, and only accentuated by the crystalline gemstone around her neck.

This ornament had a way of slipping itself into every dish and drink during dinner. Monica would carefully polish it off each time, making no comment, although once the magistrate thought that there was a look of disappointment in her eyes, as if she was disheartened by her continual clumsiness.

Finally, Gerald said, "You must learn to be more careful, darling. That has been happening all week."

"My apologies, my dear. It must be that weak health is making me unsteady."

After dinner, the magistrate and cleric were eager to depart, saddened by what they presumed was another soul being guided untimely to the grave. But the host insisted that they remain for drinks and dessert, to be served after an interlude to aid the digestion.

The ex-inspector seated himself at the pianoforte and began to play a mournful tune. Gerald invited his wife to dance, although the music was ill-suited for dancing. Monica declined, saying, "I simply must have a chance to converse privately with our local anchorite. She so rarely comes to visit, I'm growing quite concerned about the state of my soul."

Gerald nodded sympathetically at this, and struck up a conversation with the magistrate, who looked as if he would rather be anywhere else in the Core.

Monica led the reluctant anchorite out onto the veranda, then asked her, "My uncle's old friend used to say that the favour of Ezra allowed him to see the true nature of things. Have you also been granted this miraculous insight?"

"I am just a humble ward to this community, with neither need nor worth to receive the blessings Ezra may have given your friend … but if the need is great, she can bestow on me the ability to perceive enchantments."

"That is precisely what I need, please call upon this gift now, and tell me what you perceive of this gem." Monica produced the crystal which she wore upon her neck.

"I would not care to use lightly ..."

"Madam," Monica said, "This is no frivolous request, but a matter of life or death; possibly more lives than one." Her tone was too serious to be mistaken.

The anchorite closed her eyes and prayed. When she opened her eyes again, almost everything in her field of vision appeared obscured by the faintest of mists. She had no difficulty in perceiving the same details she would have noticed before, but the single object whose colours did not appear faded nor its outlines blurred stood apart from everything else.

"Yes, this jewel you wear is enchanted. It seems to me it might be a diviner's tool, although I have little experience of such things. Please tell me what this means, and who might be endangered by it."

"Swear that you will speak of it to no one."

"You can entrust any confidence to me."

"I asked a friend to purchase this for me. It is meant to detect poison with a touch - but if does, than I have no explanation for why I grow weaker by the day. Nothing I have eaten, worn, or touched this past week has shown any sign of poison."

The cleric had no need to ask why Monica suspected poison. She merely said, "Regardless of the cause, I do not think your health will prosper in this house, or in your present company. Leave this place."

Monica shook her head. "That would resolve nothing. I must find another way."

Unsure what else to say, the anchorite told the young woman, "I will pray for you."

They returned to the dining room, where Gerald was setting an elaborate dessert on the table with pride. It was a tart filled with meringue and topped with sugared pears, but the anchorite barely noticed it, her attention too caught up in Gerald himself. Unlike the rest of the room, the mist which Ezra had used to screen away the mundane did not touch him - instead a thin outline of violet light surrounded him.

[tomokaicho]

I am trying to figure out what kind of monster Gerald is.