02-14-2011, 12:47 AM
Francis James Darling. One of the most talented physicists in England, and an esteemed Professor in one of the most prestigious university in London. With credentials such as those, he could get away with slightly more than was normally acceptable of a man. Not one pressured him into marrying one of the various women that he courted. Not one pressured him into donating any of his hard earned wealth to the various charitable organisations that plagued the city. Not one called any of his actions into question, even if what he did was shady and none to becoming of a person.
Francis knew that and Francis used that to his advantage. He knew that he and he alone could be of assistance to England in scientific discovery. He knew that others valued his opinions, so much so that they let an unorthodox number of incidents and discrepancies slide. This 'special treatment' that he so often received, is exactly what paid for his large house on the outskirts of the city, not to mention the workers that he employed to cook and to clean for him.
One such worker was a very pretty young woman by the name of Elizabeth. She was naught but a scullery maid, working from dusk 'til dawn cleaning the large manor house. She often made mistakes, such as scraping the oak flooring with the coal scuttle, or over polishing some of his more finer pieces of silver. Though he, like many did to him, let them slide. She, unlike him however, did not have marvelous wit and genius to offer. She only had her looks. Ivory skin, long chestnut hair which she would often scoop into a bun (falling out of place by the end of the day) and large hazel eyes. All of that topped with an amazing figure. The girl was easily the prettiest thing he had laid eyes on for quite some time. When at home, Francis liked to keep Elizabeth working close to him. He enjoyed having a nice view to look at, to contemplate, to fantasize over, as he worked.
It was a brisk March morning when Francis sat down at the breakfast table, a bowl of porridge and a round of toast in front of him, next to his cup of plain black coffee and a copy of the daily telegraph. Francis had to be at the university in an hour. The Dean had mentioned something about a German fellow, though Francis didn't often listen to that lumbering oaf, so he had no such idea of what he was needed for. He did, however, know that for someone to be introduced to him, that they must be of considerable talent.
Francis ate his breakfast with his usual distaste before having a quick flick through the newspaper. He wrinkled his nose up at several stories which displeased him, all before folding it up and tossing it half way across the table in disgust. Scraping his chair back loudly to alert a maid that he was done, he picked up his jacket off the back of the chair and slipped it on. Pausing for a moment to tie the buttons as a buxom woman with steel grey hair came into the dining room.
"Enjoy your breakfast, sir?" she asked, her voice loud and harsh in the still morning silence.
"It was palatable," Francis said stiffly, before bowing his head and striding purposefully out of the room.
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