Mandrake

“Would you like another drink, Mr. Fettes?” asked the young and attractive woman sitting across from him.

Frederick shook his head, leaving his glass on the table between them.

The truth was that he wished the conversation would get to the point that interested him much more and for which they were there.

He had decided to leave the darkness and silence of his house deep in the forest, solely to see her.

“Actually, what I would like to know is if you read my letter,” he began. Evangeline nodded, becoming tense. The dwindling smile disappeared from her face as she took a sip of her drink. “Carefully?”

“That’s right, Mr. Fettes. And although I don’t completely understand it, I fully agree to collaborate with you if it helps to remedy my situation.”

Fettes recalled that day again when the first letter from the illustrious Lady Dalburick arrived at the gates of his home. It had been quite a surprise to learn that his skills as a lawyer, despite having distanced himself from the profession some time ago, were still being talked about. Even in very high social circles.

As he opened it and read its contents, his entire plan came to mind as if it had been traced in space years ago.

He was sure she would agree, she would because she had no choice but to listen to him. He knew people well enough to assert without a hint of doubt that this woman was so desperate that she would be capable of doing anything. And there they were, after a couple of weeks of correspondence, facing each other in the sumptuous reception hall of the tyrant Dalburick.

“There is not much to understand, you came to me as a lawyer.”

“The best in London, they say,” she interrupted, purposefully showing the high expectations she had for him.

Frederick smiled.

“And yet, what I offer you far exceeds all the laws of men. Even all that you have not even dared to dream. You or anyone else in the world.”

“People say you are an inventor, a crazy genius, but a genius nonetheless.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth. Inventors work with scientific facts, they are limited to trusting what they see with their own eyes, what they feel with their fingers, and what they can perceive with their skin. However, I have surpassed those limitations and have opened up a path in a metaphysical and abstract world, as incredible but as real as you and I.”

Evangeline finished her drink, confused. She had no idea what that man was talking about. The idea of kicking him out and living with the problem that bothered her crossed her mind for a moment as she saw that deranged look and smile peeking from under the neat pencil-style mustache. However, those last few days without being able to eat, the sleepless nights, the evenings surrounded by luxuries and comforts that she was unable to enjoy because of her internal concerns, ended up stopping her sudden attack of doubts.

So, adopting a look of complicity and a lowered voice, she began:

“Then, do you think you can help me?”

“I need to hear your problem in more detail, Lady Dalburick. But yes, I think I can help you.”

The woman stood up and walked around the room as she cracked her delicate fingers over and over again. She couldn’t believe she was about to reveal all her misfortunes to that stranger.

“Do you know Mr. Dalburick?”

“Of course, he is one of the richest men in the city. I’ve heard he has dealings with the queen herself and rubs shoulders not only with royalty but also with important figures around the world.

“He’s a terrific businessman, there’s no doubt about that,” clarified the nervous woman. “Unfortunately, he has a terrible temper, you know? A terrible mood.” As she said this, she revealed the strand of golden hair that had until then covered the bruise on her right cheek so well, which distorted her face and turned it into a strange comical caricature, so popular in local newspapers. “And it’s not just that. I can’t even opt for divorce because, in addition to not having a single piece of evidence of his constant infidelities, our prenuptial agreement ties me to him inevitably.

“What do you mean?” asked Fettes, curious.

“On the day of our wedding, Paris forced me to sign an agreement that stated that if I were the one to appeal for divorce, he would keep all the property, even those that my parents left me when they died; it was a very stupid thing on my part, but I have put all my fortune in his name. He has forced me to do so,” she said with a brief pause, staring fixedly at the lawyer’s face in search of some reaction to what she had just told him. However, the man showed no emotion. “I trust you, so I’m going to be totally frank with you, Mr. Fettes. A couple of months ago, I was tempted to kill him. For weeks, I had been poisoning his food, but he must have suspected something, because a few days ago, I found this.” The woman approached a small mahogany shelf and took an elegant leather portfolio from which she pulled out a couple of worn-out sheets, which she then handed to the lawyer. “It’s my husband’s last will and testament. And from what I can see, it has been recently updated.”

The lawyer read it.

“It seems that Mr. Dalburick is leaving all his property to the only close relative he considers worthy of it,” began Fettes, looking at her. “To you.”

“I know, lawyer. But there’s a little clause I have to obey in exchange for that.”

The lawyer continued reading, and when he came to the last paragraph, he looked at Evangeline with understanding and surprise.

“That’s right, Mr. Fettes. I cannot marry or be courted by any man for the rest of my life. If I fail to comply with any of the damn clauses stipulated there, I will be kicked out on the street, and all my fortune will be given to the church.”

“I understand,” he said. “And now that I know, I’m even more sure that you are the right person to carry out my plan. I don’t see how I can find a better candidate. Not only are you the only one capable of offering your husband, but you are also the one who needs my help the most.”

“In your letter, you mentioned that once you finish the ritual, it would be my husband who would comply with all my wishes, just as I have been forced to comply with his. If that is the case, I would like him to destroy that damn will, to let me be free and continue to enjoy what I deserve. The truth is, I don’t even care about keeping all the riches. I just want to keep what my family has left me. That’s all.”

“Mrs. Dalburick,” interrupted the young lawyer, “when all of this is over, I assure you that you will be a free woman, you won’t have to give up your husband’s vast fortune, and in addition to that, you will be completely innocent of any crime.”

“But what will you have in return?” the woman asked, covering up the horrible bruise again.

Frederick gave a half-smile, still looking at her.

“I will have time, Mrs. Dalburick, valuable time.”