Ruby Amulet

By Robyn Singer Rose

Flames danced around the coals, while Benjamin prodded the poker into the
fire's centre. The intense heat burned fuel to cinders in a fierce display.
A log slipped against the grate, sending sparks onto the pink and green
tiled hearth. Benjamin tapped the red embers with his toe. Benjamin's
cousin, Matilda, sat by the fire with her needlepoint. The coloured thread
danced across the cloth, brightening the otherwise dull garments that graced
her thin figure. She wore a brown, high-necked dress gathered at the waist
with a long skirt, under which could be seen the tops of her narrow, pointy
boots. The bustle of the dress cushioned the small of her back. Without
looking up she said, 'Do wipe the sole of your shoe on something before you
walk the charcoal from that ember onto the rug. The remaining servants have
enough to do.' Tearing a strip of paper from the London Evening Post,
Benjamin wiped the back of his shoe and tossed the soiled newspaper into the
fire. It curled at the edges and disappeared. The poker clanked back to its
resting place.

Benjamin toyed with the brass handles of the dustpan and broom but didn't
bother to sweep the ashes. Restless and distracted, he wanted to approach
Matilda with a plan he had concocted to get them out of their current
financial hardship. Grimacing at the ugly china statue, a Pekinese dog,
mocking him from its position on the mantel next to the clock, he wondered
what value such garish items held. While he was contemplating the
unlikelihood of any one item in their sitting room being of any worthwhile
monetary value, he fiddled with Matilda's fan, flipping it open and closed.
Holding the fan open, like a timid female, he batted his eyes and said, 'I
saw a play last night - that chap, Oscar Wilde wrote it.' The fan closed
with a slap in his palm and he used its end to brush the green, velvet
mantel doily's fringe, first one way then the other.

Matilda looked up at Benjamin to see him blush and turn to replace her fan
on the mantle. He picked up his pipe and lit it. Standing in his smoker's
jacket, a red, silk cravat at his neck, he cut a dashing, if not rather
feminine figure. It was no wonder at twenty-seven years of age he was still
single. No fortune to keep a wife happy and a preference to mix socially at
his club with dubious characters who were known to be raconteurs and artists
with unconventional flair. Matilda resumed her needlework.

Benjamin looked at his only cousin. A frail creature with plain features and
when peering as she was at her sewing, had the nose of a crow. Her dress was
two seasons behind the London fashion and goodness knows how dowdy she
looked compared to the chic of Paris. It was no wonder, he thought, she was
unwed at thirty years of age. A spinster, without a decent dowry and no sex
appeal, she had not a chance. Benjamin sucked on his pipe. He took it from
his mouth and pointed it at Matilda.

'The only thing to do when grandpapa takes his final breath is to rob great
granny's grave.'

'Don't be absurd, Benjamin, it is just a story.' Matilda didn't look up.
'If that amulet is buried with the old dear, it has a twenty caret ruby that
would be worth a fortune. Not to mention the gold. It was valuable in her
day.'

Matilda studied her cousin who had settled into the chair on the other side
of the fireplace. His long leg draped over the chair arm and his head rested
in the wing of the chair back. 'Do sit straight in the chair, Benjamin,
dear. I want to call for tea. Or would you prefer chocolate?'
Straightening to a more appropriate posture to greet the servants, Benjamin
said, 'Chocolate. I'll ring,' and he twisted around in his chair to pull the
cord.

They were sipping the chocolate in silence when the doctor was announced.
Benjamin jumped to his feet, too eager to hear his grandfather had at last,
passed away. When the doctor broke the news, Matilda feigned a sob into her
hankie and Benjamin looked at her with genuine surprise, having to disguise
a giggle with a throat clearing.

Safely alone, Benjamin said, 'Jolly good show, Matilda.'

'A tear or two is expected, you could try a bit of sincerity, Benjamin.'

'Try sincerity, whatever do you mean? Bung it on?'

'Don't be crude,' Matilda said to her smirking cousin.

'Obviously, with our parents dead and bereft of worldly goods for their only
children's benefit and grandfather dying broke, the story of the old granny
purchasing the amulet so she could be buried with her money, is true.'

'Tell me Benjamin, have you considered, her lawyer friend at the time who
arranged for her wishes to be carried out, might have stolen the amulet
himself?'

'There's only one way to find out.'

Matilda fiddled with her necklet, her dainty fingers easing the tightness
she felt in her throat. 'How do you plan on going about this, this grave
robbery?'

Benjamin put his cup and saucer onto the tray. In the silence of anticipation
the ting of porcelain on silver resounded.

'The grave next to granny's grave is for grandfather. The soil will be soft from the fresh digging. We will go out in the night after the funeral and I will dig and
you will keep watch.'

Matilda studied the mantel, her eyes fixed to the porcelain stallion. The
idea was preposterous, abhorrent and yet she felt tempted to agree. Her
silence now would buy her time to consider her cousin's proposal.
Benjamin retired to his room, leaving his cousin to mull over his plan.
Matilda sat staring into the fire. She reached for the bell cord but thought
better of it. The remaining servants would be asleep. She couldn't risk
aggravating them when they hadn't been paid. She'd extinguish the lights
herself tonight and did so as she made her way to her room.

At her dressing table she brushed her hair, watching the bristles leave the
ends and allow the curl to bounce back. Her thoughts turned to the dirty
cups left in the sitting room. Without money it would be her job to clear
away the things. The brush slapped the table when it dropped from her hand
now covering her sobbing eyes. Matilda threw herself onto the bed and wept.
Sliding under her bedcovers, she closed her eyes, but woke soon after bathed
in perspiration. She huddled further under the covers to keep the cold night
air from cooling her damp body. The fire had extinguished because there was
no one to stoke it and she'd forgotten in her distress. All night she laid
awake fearing life in a domestic service or worse, the workhouse. One's
options were limited when one's relatives died penniless and hers had, all
but old granny who hopefully really did take her treasures to her grave.
Their only hope was a surprise in the old man's will.

The offices of Archibald and Jameson solicitors, summoned Matilda and
Benjamin uptown a few days later. Dressed in black -- black dress, purse,
fan, gloves and a small hat with a feather, Matilda remained suitably
composed while the lawyer read her Grandfather's will. She produced a crisp,
white handkerchief from her drawstring purse to cover her mouth, turning
each gasp of horror into a sniffle. Benjamin twirled the black garter around
his upper arm while he listened. But the show of bereavement made no
difference to the outcome of the visit. The reading of the will confirmed
their fears, they were broke.

Benjamin borrowed again to cover the house expenses. At dinner, he brought
up the amulet. His back was to Matilda as he helped himself to the hot food
on the sideboard. The servants were few and cook left the food in servers
set out on the dumb waiter as at breakfast. Things were grim. The silver lid
clanged against the bowl before he spoke, 'Have you thought cousin about my
proposal?' he said, taking his place at the table.

Matilda studied her cousins determined face. Maybe he was right. She
couldn't expect him to go on borrowing and the loans may be called in once
the knowledge that the only possession they had at their disposal was the
roof over their heads.

'Then I agree to your plan, Cousin,' she said

'Splendid. I'll make all the arrangements,' he said, wiping his mouth with a
napkin as he pushed back his chair to stand.

* * * * *

A full moon lit up the graveyard as if the lamplighter had sent an arrow of
fire into the sky. Tall fir trees cast moving shadows over the tombstones.
Matilda stood beside the open grave, her eyes darting from the grave
activity to the entrance and beyond. 'Be swift, Benjamin dear,' she said to
her cousin, her hands fidgeting in her muff.

'Unless, Matilda dear,' Benjamin leant on his shovel, waist deep in the hole
above his ancestor's coffin. 'Unless,' he puffed, 'you plan on getting in
here and giving me a hand, I'd thank you at this point,' he caught his
breath, 'to kindly,' his voice dropped to a whisper and his teeth clenched,
'shut-up.'

Matilda moved back from the grave and wrapped her cape tight around her
neck. She pulled the hood over her head and let it drop forward so only her
lips were visible. Her skirt was covered in mud at the ankles and it felt
heavy. She'd never get the mud from between the buttons on her boots.
Dirt flew from the hole at a greater speed. She heard the thuds of the
shovel on something hard. 'That's it,' Benjamin's voice resounded from deep
in the grave. 'I'll prise the top open.'

'I'm not sure about this full moon, lighting the entire village tonight of
all nights,' Matilda said, looking about for villains that might disturb the
grave robbery in progress.

Startled by the sound of knocking on something hollow, she peered into the
grave. Benjamin was squatting on the top of the coffin, pushing at the dirt
with his hands. 'I'm here,' he said, looking up at her. He lifted the lid.
From her position, Matilda's view was obstructed by the lid. The look on her
cousin's face shocked her. She scurried around the side of the grave to look
in.

'Oh my Lord,' she said, staring at the skeleton that was collapsed around
the ribs. 'Amazing that she'd be, well, still looking so intact, the head,
the limbs...' Matilda waved her hand the length of what was left of their
great granny.

'What, you thought she might have moved about a bit?' Benjamin smirked at
his cousin's stupidity.

'Can you see it?' she asked.

'There's a box here, wait I have to move the bones.' Benjamin winced. He
reached into the grave, pushing a few ribs about and picked up a metal box.
Climbing out of the grave, he handed the box to his cousin who turned to
run. 'Come back here,' he shouted after her. Matilda turned to look at him.

'I have to fill the grave in.'

'Oh, of course, sorry, hurry up.'

'Let's open it.'

'Here?'

'Yes better to put the thing in a pocket than be seen carrying a box home.'
Matilda looked at her cousin in disbelief. They hadn't been seen thus far.
Reading her mind, he said, 'By a Bobby.'

Nodding, she opened the box with ease. A puff of dust materialised and grew
in length until it was quite large, looming over their heads. Matilda grabbed
Benjamin's arm. Their mouths, so similar in shape, gapped open. Before them stood a beautiful young man, wearing a majestic ruby amulet around his neck. He smiled.

'Close your mouths,' Matilda was sure the ghost said, but not with words.
Matilda fainted. Benjamin ran. He ran through the cemetery, leaping over
graves, tripping on concrete slabs, righting himself and dashing faster. He
kept running until he reached home, quite oblivious as to the welfare of his
cousin.

* * * * *

                           

Matilda stirred. She looked up into the ghost's soft brown eyes not feeling
afraid as she might have expected, to the contrary, she felt aroused. This
stranger, this apparition was her love coming for her at last. After all the
lonely years without a man's touch it was magic to feel his lips on hers.
The ghost caressed her. He laid her cape over the poisonous berries that
grew around the graves. With one strong action, he scooped her into his arms
to lay her onto the covered ground. In her state of bliss, it felt like a
dozen feather mattresses. He undid the buttons of her blouse, his hands
moving over her corset. His lips caressed her neck while he undid the
buttons down the side of her skirt and opened it. In her corset, in the dead
of night, she felt warm. Conscious of her heart beating, her loins
pulsating, her limbs stiffening, she could hear her gasps and sighs as he
caressed her sacred region. The primitive sounds left her mouth and were
caught in the whispers of the rustling leaves. Look at Matilda, do you see
Matilda, stop him Matilda, no enjoy Matilda. She can't hold back, too far
gone, then take him to you Matilda.

The ghost rolled her onto her side and unlaced the corset, loosening it so
it easily slipped over her hips, taking her bloomers with it. Matilda
pressed her bosom to him and wrapped her legs around his, encouraging his
hands to stay where she felt such exquisite pleasure. But he pulled back and
stood to remove his breeches. Unashamed in her nakedness, she watched him
undress. Leaving the amulet with the ruby stone around his neck, he lay next
to her and she received him to her. Her white flesh glistened and tingled in
the moonlight under him. Her body experienced a pleasure beyond words and
she was transported into bliss not noticing when the ruby amulet tore the
skin on her breast as he squeezed her close and collapsed onto her.
The ghost handed Matilda her clothes and waited while she dressed. Blood
from the amulet wound dripped through her blouse as she dispensed with the
corset, impulsively tossing it into the bush. The ghost's image was fading.

'Don't go,' she cried after him. He ran to her and again they kissed.
Looking into his eyes she knew what she must do, the only thing to do if she
was to spend eternity with him. She reached down to pick a handful of
poisonous berries and ate the bitter fruit with relish. Feeling light
headed, she slipped into the grave and died.

 

* * * * *

 

The police knocked at Benjamin's door at half past eight in the morning.
Benjamin's muddied clothes lay by his bed. When his manservant was heard
outside his door, rattling the breakfast tray to wake him and announce the
police's arrival, he had the presence of mind to kick the clothes under the
bed, before jumping back under the covers so he would look as if he had just
woken.

The police took tea in the drawing room while Benjamin washed and dressed.
He feared the worst about his cousin Matilda, but he managed to feign the
appropriate sincerity she would have wanted when he was told of her death.
'I'm sorry Master Benjamin, to have to tell you this further distressing
news,' the constable shuffled and the sergeant cleared his throat, 'about
your cousin, she was found in an open grave.' The sergeant was trying to
deliver the news gently to appeal to Benjamin's sensibilities. The
sensibilities of the upper classes or so they thought -those down stairs.
'She had been violated. Shocking business, her um, corset was found tossed
in the bushes. She was partly clad as if she or the villain had dressed her
in a fashion.' The image of his cousin, without her corset and lying in that
grave, flashed before him. 'There was blood on the blouse where something
had nicked her.' The policeman reached into his pocket. 'She was wearing
this.' The sergeant held out his hand, dangling from his fingers was the
ruby amulet.

Alarmed, Benjamin couldn't conceal his smile as he took the amulet from the
policeman. 'It wasn't stolen because as you can see, it is only a red paste.
Yes, paste is a good likeness, but curiously, thieves know the difference.'

Benjamin fell back onto a chair and with his face in his hands, he sobbed.

'Get the man a drink, a stiff drink mind,' the sergeant said to his
constable who looked as if he was acutely embarrassed by this display of
emotion. The constable scurried from the room to get a servant.
'There, there, old chap just one more question,' the policeman was patting
Benjamin's back, 'any idea why she was in a graveyard at night?'

Benjamin looked up. He tossed the amulet into the fire and said, 'No idea at
all, sergeant.' ________________________________________________________________

Robyn Singer Rose is an Australian writer and psychologist. She has
published short stories internationally and won and placed in competitions. The most notable of her wins is The Hal Porter Short Story Prize where her win and bio were featured in the local newspaper. www.robynsingerrose.com