Book Excerpt

So, it's here!!!!!! At long last!! This is a short excerpt from my novel which will be finished by August 4, 2012. You'll probably notice a countdown feature on the blog soon that will be counting down the days until the book is completed. 

Normally, I'd explain the characters and the setting before having you guys read this. However, I'm just going to let the text speak for itself. Please feel free to leave comments, criticism, whatever....just be polite.    

    My lord reloaded his pistol, “If she dies, I’ll spare you the noose.”   

        “She ain’t nothin’ but a lazy bar gurl!” Pocks protested. “She don’t mean nothin’ to no one. She’ll heal right quick, and I’ll have the law on you for interferin’!”

As placid as praying man, Ambly fired a shot into to the floor next to Pocks without uttering a word. Fulman was not expecting the shot and shrieked.

     Mr. Finchel sighed. “Really, Ambly. Must I take your pistols away from you again?” Pocks wisely sat down and shut up while Finchel attended to the girl. Young Mr. Robert Finchel had studied under one of the leading physicians in London a few years back before unexplicably abandoning medicine for law. What little experience and knowledge he had gained in that timewas finally going to be put to use. We laid the crumpled creature out on the table, and sent the terrified Fulman to find an empty bed while Finchel examined his patient.

      “I cannot tell if she has a concussion until we wake her. Pocks! Damn fool, how many blows did you deliver to her head?”

        Pocks bumbled and muttered that he didn’t know how many times he had kicked her. Finchel shook his head. “She’s already starting to bruise along her temple.” He ordered one of the gaudy women to find clean water, rags, and filled a pint with the whiskey that was now slowly dribbling from the barrel. Finchel noticed the quizzical look on my face.

      “To clean the wound,” he smiled. “Simple, no?”

    I nodded. By God’s grace I had never seen such a bloody wound before, even in the factory. I must admit, I was both horrified and fascinated. Just then, Fulman came round the corner, wholly caught up in the excitement.

      “Found a room!” he declared. “Second floor, first door on the right.”

      “Right. Ambly, be a chap and carry her will you?” said Finchel. “I’ve got to find a few more things and then I’ll join you.”

      My lord lifted the limp girl from the table, and gently arranged her bloodied head on his shoulder.

    “Good man,” said Finchel. “Mind her head that it doesn’t loll back. Now, just take her up, and I’ll be right behind you.” He gestured to one of the women. “You! Yes you with the feathered cap. What’s your name, miss? Angelica. Lovely. Tell me, would you happen to have a needle and thread in that beaded bag?”

    I followed my master up the stairs, which creaked under our load. Casting my eyes to the steps as I ascended, I noted large drops of blood that had freshly fallen to stain the stairs, and my stomach turned. Hanging would be too good for Pocks. When last I saw him, he was still covered with whiskey, silent and surprised, like a bear that has been swatted in the nose. His victim, mauled by his boot, might not see the evening, and he just sat there…silent. I hated men like him.

     “First door on the right,” my lord mumbled

. The room was so small it was comical: four feet by ten with only a rope mattress and chamber pot. There was no blanket or pillow, so I removed my wool coat to ball up under the girl’s head. Ever so carefully, my master laid her small shape on the bed,. Her face was like chalk, and her chin and cheek began to show the sickening colors of bruises. Ambly stared in horror, as did Mr. Bonnaville who had followed us up the stairs; stunned, he had remained silent this whole time. We all stared. I was certain, almost certain, that this creature would not last an hour, and I had just witnessed my first murder.