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The doctor jerked his head.
“Mr. Vertigo—” he began, but Ethan silenced him, raising his hand. “My friend, if you are not fit for the task, I can find another man. But Mr. and Mrs. Harker, especially Mrs. Harker, taking control of our town puts you at the end of the rope as well. It saddens me if you so quickly forget the times I helped you.”
Ethan touched his bushy mustache as if to curl it, a defying gesture of warning, Valerie thought, and the doctor became animated. His face wrinkled and distorted with lines too terrible to behold. He wiped his brow; his fingers were slick with perspiration. He nodded reluctantly.
“As you wish, Mr. Vertigo. But remember, the consequences could be dire if word of this arrangement gets out.”
“Oh, doctor, my good friend, I trust you will take every precaution. No one will ever know of our little secret,” replied Ethan, grinning.
Valerie’s eyes widened in shock, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth to muffle her gasp. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mind reeling. She was unaware of the extent of her husband’s desperation. He was willing to sacrifice integrity for the fleeting admiration of the townsfolk. The man she had married, the man she had believed to be noble and principled, was slipping away before her very eyes. She replayed their words over and over again, unable to fathom the motive behind such an elaborate scheme.
The weight of the moment pressed upon Valerie’s shoulders. She knew she couldn't confront Ethan directly—not yet. There were too many emotions coursing through her, and too many questions left unanswered. But she also knew that their marriage would never be the same again.
4
As the horse-drawn carriagemade its way down the cobblestone streets of the town, Valerie’s heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. She observed the townspeople going about their daily lives, unaware of the sinister scheme that hung over their heads. Beside her, Ethan sat tall and proud, his hazel eyes filled with determination. The muscles on the sides of his head bulged. She had watched him write countless letters, locking himself in his study to find new ways to repair his relationship with the townspeople, planning the details of this trip meticulously.
He was completely oblivious to her knowledge. The deceit she had discovered gnawed at her soul, yet she found herself torn between loyalty and self-preservation.
Valerie was unsure of what awaited them. It had been over a week since the horrifying incident that had befallen them, but she was still very weak. Her body trembled and she broke into a sweat whenever she tried to sleep, seeing the vicious faces of townspeople wavering before her, thin and gaunt, the hard edges protruding beneath their skin.
She brushed a lock of auburn hair away from her face. Her heart was racing as they entered the bustling town square. She saw the doctor first, waiting by a bakery. He cast a long, grim look at their carriage, as if disappointed and in need of an excuse to not be there. It seemed to her that he also had not been sleeping well. He had circles beneath his eyes and his mouth twisted in a frown of disdain. His arms hung motionless at his side, his hands curled into fists, and his shoulders drooped. Something inside her coiled at his expression, like a snake undulating at her feet, then she looked away.
To her dismay, it was the doctor who welcomed them first. He appeared as soon as their carriage came to a halt, holding out his hand so she could get off the carriage. She sat motionless for a moment, her gloved hands clutching onto the edges of her dress. She hesitated, her hand suspended in mid-air, then placed her hand in his. His complexion almost seemed ghastly against the gloomy overcast afternoon and his gaze held a penetrating intensity, as if he knew what she was thinking. A shiver ran down her spine, but she did not falter. His eyes softened for a moment, erasing the unsettling expression. He said, “Fear not, Mrs. Vertigo, my purpose today is to heal, not to haunt.”
With a steadying breath, Valerie allowed him to guide her out of the carriage. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she noticed an eerie silence hanging in the air. Shop windows were barred shut, their once inviting displays hidden from view. The scent of freshly baked bread and the melodic tunes of a nearby pub were conspicuously absent. Ethan, sensing her unease, gently squeezed her hand. Valerie noticed a cluster of people, eyes filled with discontent and suspicion, wearing a solemn expression, on either side of the street passing them by. Valerie followed their gaze toward the horizon and saw a line of stern-faced police officers, weighing their batons, ready to quash any sign of disturbance.
With hesitant steps, she followed Ethan. He did not pay attention to the silent protest or the palpable tension hovering about him while the tinkling sound of their contempt did little to quench Valerie’s fright. Not a word spilled from their hungry mouths, yet Valerie heard their voices in her restless mind. They resented her; they would always resent her.
“What are you doing?”
She almost choked on her words, hoping the inconspicuous question would put some sense into him. Instead, he waved to the crowd, flashing wide grins and looking straight at their faces. She felt like she was there and not there, cringing at his touch on her arm. “Wave, my dear,” he instructed, not breaking his grin. She hesitated, awfully conscious of people’s growing animosity, then waved to the crowd reluctantly.
She would go through every motion of his, subject herself to humiliation and calamity, so long as she knew she was safe. All the lies could be forgotten, time would heal all. Her worries belonged to the past. She was Mrs. Vertigo, walking arm in arm with Ethan Vertigo, shrouded in his everlasting legacy. She would not return to those days when she begged her uncle to spare her a room, give her a moment’s break. She would pace the halls of Vertigo Peaks as she wished. She shall ask no more, she would receive.
Her uncle was not a terrible man despite his curt and aggressive hardness and grating voice. He honored his dying brother’s wish and took Valerie under his roof after all. Nevertheless, she could not help but feel he resented her too. She always thought her existence must have felt like responsibility to him, who bore its weight grunting and irritated, then he made her pay for it. She always remembered her days at his cottage behind a film of sawdust and tall weeds, scraping the floors until her hands grew rough and calloused, the tips of her fingers as yellow as vinegar, the threat of losing her shelter always imminent.
As they strolled through the sparse thoroughfare, Valerie caught sight of Mrs. Harker perched on the edge of a bench with a group of friends. There was a small, sneering smile on her face, as though she was both amused and annoyed by her, as she turned to meet her eye. For the first time, she noticed her face: it was extremely pale and covered with freckles, her sand covered hair framed her face rather strangely, for it reminded Valerie of balloons. Her little mouth had contorted in a childish frown, making her lips even thinner. She placed a finger on her pursed lips when she noticed Valerie, her face red in the dim light, before Ethan led them down a narrow alley.
The doctor approached them cautiously, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder and whispering in his ear before disappearing from their view. Waves of cheer and applause greeted them. The townspeople, young and old, stood on tiptoes, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Vertigo. The residents, adorned in their finest attire, lined the alley, their faces painted with warm enthusiasm. Flowers and ribbons adorned everywhere, as though their arrival was a festive scene. Children, their eyes shining with admiration, skipped alongside them, clutching flowers and offering them as tokens of love.
Valerie's eyes widened as they locked onto the crowd. A young girl approached them and handed her a delicate bouquet of forget-me-nots. The men lined in front of Ethan, offering him firm handshakes.
"Welcome, sir! Welcome, madam!" cried a man as he broke away from the crowd and approached them. "We have longed for this day, to right the wrongs committed against you. Please, embrace the love and respect we have for you."
"We were blinded by fear that evening," another woman whispered. "But now, we see the error of our ways. Please, forgive us."
She became dizzy with the sea of smiling faces and outstretched hands. She knew this was a fabricated gratitude, one forged with bribery and deceit, as her husband handed out fuzzy clothes and hot meals to people. He had really thought every detail, she thought, surprised to see those who had left the town square, those faces etched with lines of sorrow and frustration, return with interest.
“Spare us some food, Mr. Vertigo!” One yelled. “My boy needs a new coat, my lady!” The other followed. They were surrounded, this time by a throng of destitute yet hopeful people, screaming their names and marching in blissful awe. Valerie liked the passion with which they chanted her name, echoing in waves of assurance and honor, no matter how fabricated it was. Maybe her husband had indeed whispered the truth: it was best for them to hold the keys of the town.
“Ah, Lady Vertigo, what a pleasant surprise!” Mrs. Harker remarked, her voice dripping with false delight. Valerie turned around and saw Mrs. Harker and her cohort, pushing the crowd hurriedly, strained smiles on their lips.
Valerie curtsied in response. “Mrs. Harker, the pleasure is all mine.”
Ethan inclined his head towards the group with a reserved smile. His eyes glinted as he spoke. “My lady, I trust you are well on this fine day?”
“Indeed, I am quite well, thank you,” Cecilia Harker replied, casting a lingering gaze at him. Their tailored gowns and the scent of freshly cut roses wafted up to her, exuding a commanding presence that Valerie found to be threatening. Her fingers were laden with jewels. Valerie’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, recognizing the subtle challenge hidden within Mrs. Harker’s words.
