The Ruined Nobleman

Louis struggled against the shackles, to no avail.

"Please, please no! I beg of you! Please no!" he screamed in the dark box which imprisoned his head. His arms, legs, and torso, which were outside the small box, flailed and thrashed as much as his chains would allow.

"I'm sorry, Louis, please forgive me! I cannot stop it, I cannot..." cried the woman sitting above him.

Louis was lying on his back, chained to posts which were pinned into the ground. His head was encased in a wooden box, sealed tightly around his neck. The only other opening in the box was directly above his face, and it was now covered by the backside of a beautiful, terrified woman.

"Oh God, Louis, I am so sorry, I do not think I can hold on any longer..." the beautiful woman groaned, as a rumbling ripple growled deep in her stomach, "Forgive me, Louis..."

As Louis coughed and wretched, he heard the Marquise cackle.

-----

Louis sighed with frustration as the horse-drawn carriage rattled along the narrow, muddy road. Once the plantation was his, Louis' first order of business would be to build a proper road.

A thick, opaque mist hung over the Louisiana swamp, pierced only by the screams and whistles of birds.

Louis was travelling to the old LeClerc mansion, to secure the hand of one of the old man's daughters. Louis had argued bitterly with his mother for demanding such an arrangement; the LeClerc's were only a few generations removed from clerks and merchants! To Louis, it was an insult to propriety to consider them for marriage.

Louis' mother had coldly reminded him that his family were in no position to make demands. Decency forbade her from explaining why out loud, but Louis knew what she meant. Louis' late father, a drunk and lecherous fool, had squandered much of their old fortune. Their finances and reputation in ruins, they were forced to abandon beautiful France for this hell-on-Earth.

Louis mopped at his sweaty brow, and slapped at the flies which tickled his neck. He looked out into the thick, foreboding mist, and cursed.

Duty now bound Louis, as the eldest son, to find a marriage that could restore the family's fortunes, and so hopefully their standing. The LeClerc's had, within a few generations, become one of the wealthiest families in Louisiana, and the dowry would be significant. Once the old man died, Louis would own one of the most profitable plantations in the country.

The screams and cries of the birds grew louder and more awful, and Louis placed his fingers in his ears. He cursed his father, and his mother, and this fucking colony.

Louis did not particularly care for the six LeClerc sisters. Rather than show him the respect Louis felt his ancient name deserved, or the gratitude he felt owed for his deigning to socialise with what were essentially commoners, the sisters would always tease and belittle him, and then giggle amongst themselves. They would taunt and patronise him, calling him "little Louis", and make thinly-veiled jibes about his late father, and his rumoured exploits.

The eldest sister, Joséphine, was their ringleader, and she would never miss the opportunity to tease Louis, and hint at his father's indiscretions back in France. When she was feeling particularly brave, she would speak about Louis needing to be chastised, or bent over a knee and spanked with a belt, and his ears would glow red hot. She never failed to infuriate Louis with her impertinence.

Louis winced, as he remembered the stirring in his groin when she would make such taunts at him, and shame burned in his stomach as flashes of memories of Venice intruded his thoughts.

Louis pushed the images and sounds out of his mind, and refocused on his hatred of Joséphine. How dare a tramp like her disrespect her betters, and slander the name of a nobleman! And such gall, for a woman like her to taunt with scandalous rumours of impropriety! Louis had heard the stories about Joséphine, and it enraged him that such a harlot would show him such disrespect!

After his arrival to Louisiana, Louis and his mother had spent time in New Orleans, and it was not long until Louis found himself exploring the town's drinking houses and brothels. It was at a card game in the early hours of one morning that Louis first heard of Joséphine LeClerc.

His companions glowed as they praised her skill with her mouth on men's members. They regaled Louis with tales of Joséphine's conquests, and her ability to arouse men and make them spend no matter how deep their drunken stupor. Heat rose under Louis' collar when they whispered the rumours of her affair with the Governor, when she had been not just his mistress, but his disciplinarian also.

One of the drinkers he had gambled with had drawn sketches of Joséphine, and Louis had trembled when he saw the life-like renderings of the beautiful, red-haired woman in various states of undress and compromise.

Louis heard more and more about Joséphine in the bars of New Orleans, and with each story he was told, he was desperate to hear another. When Louis finally met her at a party that his good mother had hosted, he had approached her and had barely hidden his lustful intentions, only for her to laugh at him and reject him.

Despite himself, he could not help but fantasize about her, about taking her and having his way with such a filthy whore. To his great shame, his lust would magnify when he allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of her having her way with him, of her disciplining him, of Joséphine making him her filthy...

Louis snapped himself out of his daydream, and shuffled in his seat to hide the erection tenting in his breeches. Flashes of images from the night in Venice returned to him, and his cheeks glowed warm.

Louis had no intention of taking such a woman for his wife, and it disgusted him to have her join his family, but often his mind still found its way to her, and to his chagrin no woman excited his loins like Joséphine.

Once, Louis' mother had invited the LeClerc sisters to their new home, which they could afford through the credit of their family name. The invitation was much to Louis' public annoyance, and secret delight.

That night, Louis had roamed the grounds of the home, and lingered outside Joséphine's window, hoping for a glimpse of the trollop. He was not disappointed. Standing in the dark, hiding pathetically behind a tree, he trembled as he watched Joséphine retire to her chambers and remove her dress. As she stood there in her flowing chemise, Louis' heart had raced, and when she pulled it up over her head and threw it to the side, Louis's eyes widened and his cock stiffened.

Joséphine had stood by the window and delicately yawned, and Louis salivated at the sight of her full, perfect breasts. He began to shudder as he looked down to her mound and saw her beautiful, red bush of hair, and when she turned around, he saw her plump, pale bottom.

Louis panted and grunted and gripped pathetically onto the trunk of the tree, as he spent a torrent of jism into his breeches. He leaned against the tree in a daze, and when his vision came back into focus, he looked up to see Joséphine smirking down at him.

Since that night, any time Joséphine laid eyes on him she would ensure to hint at his inadequacy at the earliest opportunity. She would make a show of complimenting his quickness when he went riding, and would ask if he ever became overwhelmed when admiring beautiful a painting. After she made such remarks, Louis would hear a chorus of giggles from the other LeClerc sisters, and he would shake with rage.

No, Louis would not take Joséphine as his wife, but he had not ruled out taking her in other ways. He would show her the proof of his manhood, and he would make her choke on it...

The horses whinnied and whined, and the carriage stuttered violently to a stop. There was a growing commotion outside as one of horses screamed and bucked, and Louis heard the driver bellow frantic commands to calm.

Oh, for God's sake, what now? Louis just wanted this cursed journey to be over with, and to be out of this putrid, humid fucking swamp. He swatted at the gathering of flies around his face, and then furiously stormed out of carriage.

"Get this carriage moving!" he yelled at the driver, "This is utterly unacceptable!"

"I'm sorry, Monsieur, the horses... they... they always have trouble out here!'"

Louis felt like taking his cane and braining the driver, and screaming at him to refer to him properly with the title of his noble birth, but he resisted the impulse. He looked down at the trail ahead of them, and then back at the trail behind.

"What are you blithering about man?" Louis barked, mopping frantically at the sweat pouring from his forehead, "It's a straight road! Are your horses defective?"

"N-No, Monsieur, it is this place... it is... it is not a good place! Bad things... bad spirits... the horses, they can feel the..."

"Oh, shut up, you fool, and take command of those horses before I take the whip to you!" Louis bellowed at him, scrambling back into the carriage and drawing the curtains.

Fucking shit-heap colony, fucking morons, fucking whores! Louis reached for his flask of brandy, and drank mouthfuls of it.

Louis found few things more tedious than superstition. He had heard all the stories about the old d'Aubigné plantation, now inhabited by the LeClercs, and they all bored him. Louis had heard the hushed whispers at parties when he had announced his plan to visit the LeClercs, and he had scoffed at the genuine fear and concern in the eyes of the gathered ladies.

What had shocked him, however, were the tremulous voices of the men as they implored him to reconsider! Louis had wanted to laugh; surely this was a jest? No, they were serious! Louis was astounded at the cowardice on display, as his friends spoke in terrified whispers of the vanishing of the d'Aubignés, and of the travellers that were never seen again, and of the raving madness of those that were.

What bollocks. Louis knew that the old mansion was a building like any other, and he had laughed off the stories he was told. The LeClercs had lived on the old d'Aubigné plantation for years now, and whilst he found them contemptable, they were not, to his knowledge, lunatics. And could a cursed plantation be so profitable? Louis thought not.

Deep inside him, however, Louis repressed a feeling he could not explain. As much as he had admonished the driver and scorned the horses, Louis too had sensed something which made him feel ill at ease. He had passed it off as a result of the oppressive humidity, or perhaps the brandy, but as the carriage had travelled further along its path, a growing sense of unease, of agitation, had grown in Louis. He had seen the fear on the horses' faces, and in the eyes of the driver, and though he had rejected it, deep inside himself he had understood it.

The sound of the driver's yells and the crack of a whip filled the air again, and a moment later the carriage shuddered and began to move again.

Louis took another mouthful of brandy and loosened his collar. He leaned over and closed his eyes, hoping to sleep through the rest of this forsaken journey. He tossed restlessly in the heat, and pulled his jacket over his head to hide from the flies. During the brief moments of sleep he found along the journey, he saw terrible visions and heard terrible laughter, and he eventually abandoned his quest for rest.

Many hours later, the carriage carried Louis down a long lane flanked by old willow trees, and made its way towards the old mansion, which was barely visible through the mist. Louis looked out the window towards the old building as they approached, but he did not feel relief at the end of his journey. He could not explain it, but he could not deny it: he felt afraid.

------

The feeling of fear remained in Louis' gut as he was welcomed into the grand home.

He did his best to ignore it as he exchanged the obligatory niceties and politeness with his hosts. Louis had always found the old man far too over-familiar and friendly - further evidence that he lacked pedigree. The old LeClerc had at least the good sense to marry into a noble family himself, and Louis always found his interactions with the Lady LeClerc to be far less tedious.

Once the old man had finally ceased his wittering, Louis turned to the six beautiful LeClerc sisters. They were each very attractive in different ways, and Louis fought not to blush as they all looked back at him, grinning. He was deliberate in avoiding Joséphine's eyes, but he could feel her gazing at him intensely, and knew she had a smirk on her lips.

Louis bowed to the sisters, and they politely curtsied in reply. He forced himself to complement each of them, and then spoke of his gratitude for the invitation to their fine, old home. He tried to hide the trembling in his voice, but he had never felt so small, so insignificant, as he did now in front of the six beautiful sisters.

Catherine, the second eldest, spoke after a few moments of silence.

"Louis, you must tell us about your travels of Europe! We were told you were in Venice not long ago; it must have been wonderful!" she said, and Louis felt warmth in cheeks.

"Oh yes, Louis, tell us about Venice!" cried Margaret, the third daughter, "I have heard such exciting stories of exploring canals in Venice!"

Louis fought to suppress a shudder, and searched their faces for signs of mockery and ridicule, but they held their polite smiles well.

Feeling that he must be paranoid (after all, how could they know?), Louis spoke of the dinners and celebrations he had attended, and boasted of the royals and aristocrats with whom he had dined. He looked at the sisters' faces, expecting to see awe and excitement; instead, they reacted with courteous boredom.

This infuriated Louis, but he contained himself. After some silence, Anne spoke.

"Oh, wow, that sounds quite wonderful! It must have been very exciting!" she said sweetly.

Louis softened, and smiled at Anne.

Of all the LeClerc sisters, the one who irked Louis the least was Anne, the youngest. Already eighteen years old, she had been delayed in entering society, as had her older sisters; Louis suspected that the scandalous rumours surrounding Joséphine had hindered any matchmaking.

Anne was undeniably very pretty indeed, and Louis felt that she would certainly be the most agreeable to take as a wife. She did join in with her sisters' laughter and whispers, but she was always graceful and courteous in her interactions with Louis, and she had never addressed him disrespectfully. She did not inspire in Louis the same bestial lust that her eldest sister had, but looking at Anne now, it was not unpleasant to imagine entering her chambers.

Louis heard a stifled giggle, and turned to see Joséphine whispering to Catherine. He looked at her sternly, but she looked back and held his gaze, and gave him a gentle smile. She looked deeply into his eyes, and Louis felt his manhood stir and his pulse quicken.

"Oh, poor little Louis," she purred, "Look at you! You look so out of sorts; the journey must have been so awful. We will not keep you any longer; please feel free to retire and prepare for dinner."

Louis wished to strike her for her rudeness, but his resolve melted under her gaze. She looked down at his crotch, and then looked back in his eyes and grinned.

Louis stammered a goodbye, and hurried to the guest chambers. Once inside, he tore off his wig and loosened his collar, and cursed his throbbing manhood for betraying him in front of Joséphine. He resisted his desire to undo his breeches and pleasure himself to the memory of her perfect breasts and pale bottom. Instead, he called for the coldest water the house servant could find and submerged himself in it.

He hated Joséphine, and he hated how much he wanted her.

Fucking harlot. He would have her.

-----

Louis sat at the long dining table, surrounded by the sisters. Sweet Anne sat on his left, and Catherine sat on his right. Across from Louis sat Joséphine, and it took all of his effort not to stare at her. She had changed into a gown with a neckline bordering on scandalous, and it pained him to avert his gaze. Every now and again, he would steal a glance at her exquisite cleavage; each time, he would look up to see her smiling at him, a wicked glint in her eye.

The twins, Margaret and Suzanne, sat either side of Joséphine, and throughout the evening they would look at Louis and then whisper into Joséphine's ear, and she would whisper back while keeping her gaze on him.

Louis tried his best to ignore them, and kept his attention on Anne. They exchanged polite pleasantries, and Louis forced himself to ask her about her interests. He then forced himself to maintain a polite and interested visage as she spoke to him about music and poetry, and he fought to suppress his revulsion when she spoke with passion about the ridiculous and outrageous ideas being spewed out by the 'great thinkers' in France and beyond. Ah well, when they were married, he would determine which books she would be permitted to read, and which would be kindling.

Just as Louis opened his mouth to dispel Anne of her silly notions, he felt something brush against his leg. He jumped in his seat and looked around the floor.

"Everything alright, Louis?" Joséphine asked sweetly.

"Yes, of course, just... tell me, do you have a cat? Or maybe a dog?" he replied.

The sisters each stifled a giggle.

"No, no pets in our home, Louis! Why do you ask?"

"Oh, eh, nothing, no reason..." he stammered.

"Please, Louis," Joséphine cooed, "You looked like you had something to say to Anne, and I am sure it was most fascinating! Please, continue."

Louis went to speak again, but he felt something stroke his shin through his stocking, this time more firmly. It was soft and smooth, and Louis could feel the faint dampness of sweat...

Louis looked into Joséphine's smirking face. It was her foot!

Louis felt Joséphine's stockinged foot stroke up and down his shin. He tried to pull back his legs, but the draping cover of his chair meant that he could not. Louis began to sweat as more of her soft, stockinged sole rubbed against his shin and his calf, and he felt his loins awaken.

He wanted to leap to his feet and admonish Joséphine, to decry her as a whore! But he knew that he could not afford, in the most literal sense, to make a scene. Any outburst from him could threaten the proposed arrangement of marriage with Anne, and so he sat silently, and willed his manhood to calm.

"Are you feeling alright, little Louis?" Joséphine asked with her plump lips pouted, "You have gone flushed, and your breathing is more laboured!"

"Hush, Joséphine," her mother scolded, "it is not polite to comment like that."

"Sorry, mother! And I am sorry to you, Louis. Please do not think I meant any offense!"

With that, Joséphine's foot moved further up his legs towards his thigh. Louis fought to stop the trembling in his hands, and wiped the sweat from his brow, as Joséphine's delicate, stockinged foot stroked back and forth along the inside of his thigh, getting perilously closer to his groin with each passing.

Before Louis could move to close his thighs together, he felt Catherine gently tangle her legs around his right leg, her own foot pinned down on his. A second later, Margaret shifted in her seat, and Louis felt her grasp at his left knee with her two soft feet. Suzanne's dainty feet soon joined in the entanglement, and Louis could not close his legs together without causing an obvious disturbance.

And so, he sat at the dinner table with the LeClerc's, with his legs pried open, and Josephine's sweaty, stockinged foot gliding towards his manhood.

"Are you sure you are alright, Louis?" Anne asked softly in his ear, "I do not wish to embarrass you, but you do appear quite flushed. Can I get the servants to fetch you anything?"

"No, no... thank you Anne, I am quite alright..." he stuttered, gripping tightly at the napkin in his hand.

"Please, Louis," Joséphine implored again, "Dearest Anne was speaking about the philosophers, and you were going to educate us on your own wisdom! I am most keen to hear it."

The other sisters except Anne giggled, and Louis' head began to spin.

"Oh, yes please, Louis!" Anne said sweetly, "I do so love to talk about ideas! Please, I would love to hear your thoughts on Locke, you must have read so much!"

"I... I..." Louis stammered, as Joséphine's foot travelled up the inside of his thigh and her toes delicately grazed his now raging erection.

"Yes please, Louis! Please, enlighten us! Please!" came the chorus from the other sisters, as Anne smiled at him gently, waiting for his reply.

Louis fought to supress a groan, and looked up at Joséphine to implore her to stop with his eyes. Instead, she leaned forwards, and gazed deeply back into his eyes, and smiled wickedly.

Louis' whole body tensed as he felt Joséphine's delicate sole search for, and find, his throbbing cock. He felt her sole press gently against his member, and then slowly move up and down over it. Louis' eyes involuntarily rolled back in his head, and his whole body shuddered, then jerked, as he came violently inside his breeches. Joséphine's foot continued its gentle assault, and Louis hunched forward and grunted as torrent after torrent of jism poured into his breeches. Finally, he collapsed forward onto the table.

"Oh Louis! What is wrong? Quick, bring him water," Anne called frantically, "Louis! Are you alright?"

"Yes, Louis, are you alright?" Joséphine gasped with mock concern, without relenting the pressure of her foot on his pulsing member.

Louis let out a soft whimper as his groin continued to quiver. He felt Joséphine's foot leave his crotch, and he shuddered as one last drip of jism dribbled from his member.

Louis heard a great commotion around him, but he did not lift his head from the table, and he covered his roasting red ears and cheeks with his arms. He heard Anne sob and call his name, but still, he did not look up. It was only when Louis heard the old man call for a doctor to be summoned that he lifted his head and forced a weak smile.

"Please, please, do not make a fuss over me," he said, still breathing heavily, "I am just tired from the long journey, and I fear I have embarrassed myself! Perhaps the wine..."

The LeClercs were all gathered around him now, and he remained hunched over to hide the growing stain on his breeches. Anne began to fan his face, and a delicate hand offered him a cup of water. He gladly took it and drank, but when he looked up, he saw that the hand belonged to Joséphine, who looked down at him with a pout of concern.

"Oh, little Louis, let us get you to bed! You must be simply exhausted!" she said.

"Please, please, everyone, pay me no mind! But yes... yes... I should take my leave and retire... A night's rest, that's all I need!"

With that, he pushed back his chair and leapt to his feet, and before the LeClercs could protest or interject, he bounded out of the dining room and hurried to the guest chambers.

Louis slammed his door behind him, and then dropped down to his knees. He punched his fist against the floor, and cursed the dampness in his crotch. He cursed his weakness, his inadequacy, but most of all, he cursed that fucking whore

Joséphine!

Louis stood and stripped off his soiled breeches, and threw his wig at the wall. He paced the room in a rage, and he fantasised about taking his cane to Joséphine, and using it on her in vulgar and horrible ways. He wanted to strangle her, to throw her from her window, to drag her behind his horse!

He reached for the bottle of brandy he had hidden in his case, and he drank the rest of it without pausing. He thought of the plantation, and the dowry, and his family's redemption, as he swayed and stumbled to the bed. Joséphine would be safe from him, for now.

-----

Louis tossed and thrashed in his bed long into the night. Sweat poured from him in the oppressive heat, and when he reached half-sleep he would be wakened by horrible shrieks from animals outside, or awful creaking and moaning from the old house.

Louis swore to the ceiling that when he owned the plantation, he would raise it to the ground and have a new mansion built. He swore that the surrounding forest would be burnt down and any birds that flew near the house would be shot out of the sky. He swore that, with the exception of Anne, the LeClercs would each be thrown into the fucking swamp.

Louis thought he could feel flies on his face, and swatted at nothing. Alone with his thoughts, he could not ignore the growing sense of fear which had been pitting in his stomach. His mind wandered to his worst memories, and he saw his father...

Fuck it. More brandy would let him sleep.

Louis stumbled out of the bed and hastily dressed in his nightshirt. He lifted a candlestick and crept out of his room into the dark, old mansion. He tried to tip-toe to the stairs, but the brandy he had swigged before bed impeded him from doing so, and so he slowly lumbered along the hallway towards the landing.

As he approached the stairs, Louis heard murmuring from below, and the shuffling of furniture, and the clinking of glasses.

Who could be up at this hour? Surely the LeClercs had not continued festivities after their guest had retired in such a state!

Louis began to scorn the LeClercs in his thoughts, and berated them for their disgraceful behaviour, but then a different noise gave him pause.

As he stood in the landing, from down the hall towards the family's quarters Louis heard the sound of snoring.

So... it could only be a few of them, still up and drinking and revelling. Still, disgraceful, utterly...

The noise from downstairs grew louder, and he heard shouts and cries of delight, and the banging of tables and clapping of hands.

How had none of the others awoken with this racket? Louis was now determined to castigate the revellers, and shame them for their drunkenness and rowdiness!

Joséphine must be down there. Oh, she certainly would be down there! And no doubt she was gloating to her silly sisters about Louis' humiliation, as she filled her whorish mouth with more and more wine.

Louis gripped the handle of the candlestick more tightly, and he stumbled down the first few stairs.

Fucking bitches, all of them, fucking bitches.

Anne would not be down there, no, she was sweet and good and respectable. She would be sound asleep in her bed... maybe Louis would visit her bedroom... or maybe he would go down and drag Joséphine to his.

Louis grasped at the banister as he descended the creaking staircase. He could see almost nothing in the flickering glow of the candlelight, and the brandy had made him unsteady, but he began to scramble down the steps, eager to intrude on the soirée and put an end to Joséphine's joy!

As Louis' foot touched the last step, he froze. The doors to the dining room were closed, but he could see the dim glow of candlelight creep through the gaps between doors and frame. The sounds of revelry behind the doors had grown to an uproar, and the howls of laughter and delight had grown to a delirious frenzy.

But Louis heard something else, and it was this horrible sound which had stopped Louis in his tracks.

In the midst of the cries and shouts of ecstasy, Louis heard the unmistakeable sound of a man howling in anguish and despair.

Icy sweat poured from Louis as he listened to the man's voice wailing and begging, desperate for the others to stop, please, for the love of all that is sacred and holy, you must stop!

The laughter grew louder still, and Louis heard the muffled voices of the drunken revellers yell and cry out in pure delight, while the man howled and bawled and begged them to stop. Louis heard the man's groans and heartbroken sobs, and he heard the now deafening laughter of both men and women.

Louis slipped and fell backwards onto the stairs, and the clatter he made silenced the dining room. The dim, flickering glow of light still crept around the doorframe, but Louis heard nothing. Not even the faint snoring from upstairs, nor the creaks and moans of the old mansion. Nothing, but the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Louis lay still at the bottom of the dark staircase, petrified. His racing heart made his head feel light, and he listened in terror for any sounds from behind the door.

The cacophony of the revellers did not return, however, but as Louis listened he heard the man's gentle sobbing and whimpering.

"Please no... my beautiful, sweet daughter, please... I beg you... please do not give into her... Oh, God... please God, deliver me from this torture!"

Louis heard the agony in the man's breaking voice, and he forced himself to pull himself up against the banister. Shaking, he crept towards the dining room door, and touched the door handle. The man's groaning did not stop, and Louis heard the sound of a bare hand slapping at the floor in despair.

"Oh, God, please! Please, all of you! You must not give her what she wants! She is wicked! She is evil! Do not let her lead you astray! My children, my good wife, please!"

Louis turned the door handle with his trembling hand, and pushed it open.

The room was in total darkness. It was silent, and it was empty.

What? How? Where had they...?

Louis felt faint, and leaned against the doorframe.

No one was there. No one was there!

Louis stumbled into the room and held up the candlestick. In the flickering of the candle's light Louis saw nothing out of place. The candles on the table had been put out hours ago, the table had been long since cleared, and the chairs were neatly tucked under the table.

Louis rubbed at his forehead and swayed where he stood. Was it the fucking brandy? The heat? What had caused this delirium?

Louis turned to leave, but a sound stopped him as his muscles seized in terror.

From behind him, Louis heard a low, gentle, cackling laughter. He turned, and let out a blood curdling scream.

At the head of the table sat a woman. Her eyes glared at him through the dark, and in the flickering light of the candle he saw her evil, beautiful smile.

The cackling laughter grew louder and louder until it was almost deafening. Louis dropped the candlestick from his shaking hand and raced out of the dining room, never relenting from his screaming. He scrambled to the stairs, but he tripped after only a few steps.

"Please, help!" he screamed up the stairs, "Oh, for the love of Christ, help me!"

Louis looked back over his shoulder, and in the darkness he saw the woman's faint silhouette standing in the open doorway. Her staring eyes shone bright through the darkness, and her wide smile made Louis cower and weep.

"Louis? What's wrong, Louis?"

Louis looked up the stairs and saw, illuminated by her father's lamp, Anne standing and looking down at him with panic on her face.

"Dear boy, what is it? What has happened?"

Old LeClerc hastened down the stairs and helped Louis to his feet. He smelled the brandy on Louis' breath, and then gave him a knowing look.

"Oh, dear boy, dear boy," the old man chuckled warmly, "Let's get you back to bed, shall we?"

Louis held on to the old man's arm. Anne came down to them both and held her arms around Louis' waist, and the two supported Louis back up the stairs. Despite his every instinct, he looked back towards dining room.

There was no one there.