David, Wallis and the Mercenary Chapter Five


Sweet little Wallis Warfield
Previously in the novel: Leon, a novice mercenary, is foiled in taking the Archbishop of Canterbury hostage and exchanging for an anarchist during the Great War by a mysterious man in black. The man in black turns out to be Edward the Prince of Wales.

Wallis Warfield sat on the edge of her bed in the Shoreham Hotel in Washington, D.C., a cigarette in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. She stared at her new husband passed out because of sedatives she had slipped into his drink. He was tied, spread eagle, to the bedposts. It was the culmination of her grand plan to marry young and to marry well. She had debuted into proper society a year earlier in 1915. One could not marry well if one had not debuted and paraded herself in front of all the wealthy young men in town. When she had not found any suitable takers within a few months, Wallis struck out to greener pastures in Pensacola, Florida, where naval officers could be found splashing on the beaches every day. She picked out the one with the most potential and turned on the charm. Here less than a year later, he was her husband and her captive.
It had been quite a day. Exactly at 6 p.m. her uncle Solomon Warfield escorted her down the aisle at Baltimore’s Christ Church. Her father died of tuberculosis when she was an infant so his brother Sol filled in for him. Poor Uncle Sol. He twitched all the way to the altar and replied too quickly when the minister asked who would give this bride to her dearly betrothed. Wallis could not blame him much, considering he awoke one night to find his ten-year-old niece sticking a long hat pin into his left nostril.
“What the hell?” Sol awoke with a start.
“No, no, Uncle Sollie,” little Wallis whispered. “Don’t move. It will only hurt more. If I cram it in all the way it could go into your brain. You might die.” She giggled. “Isn’t that what you always say to me?”
“You’re crazy, Bessie,” he rasped.
“Don’t call me Bessie. That’s what you call a cow. If you say Bessiewallis together real fast I won’t get too mad. But I like Wallis the best. Just like my daddy’s name.”
Wallis did not remember anything about her father, but she understood he was a tough practical man. Her mother was witty and charming. Wallis believed she inherited all those traits and she was going to use them to her advantage.
“I’ll kick you and your mother out of the house. And where will you live then?”
Wallis wriggled the pin, causing Sol to muffle a cry. His face turned red.
“We are not moving out of this pretty house,” she replied calmly. “And you won’t tell anyone what I’ve done. Who would think a sweet little girl like me could do something mean and nasty?” She flicked the end of the pin.
Sol groaned. “Yes, oh god yes. Anything you say, Bessiewallis—I mean, Wallis. But, please, in god’s name, take it out. Take it out now, please.
“Hmm, okay, Uncle Sollie.” She began to remove the pin but quickly stuck it back in.
A full-throated scream escaped his lips. Tears ran down his fat cheeks. Wallis’ mother Alice ran in carrying an oil lamp just as her daughter removed the pin and slid it into the back of her nightgown.
“Good heavens, Sol, what’s the matter?” Alice asked.
He shook his head and started sobbing.
“I don’t know, Mommy,” Wallis replied innocently running to her mother and hugging her. “I ran in as soon as I heard him yell and didn’t see anything.”
Alice wrinkled her brow.
“You do believe me, don’t you, Mommy?”
After a pause Alice answered, “My, you are a fast little bunny rabbit, aren’t you?” She glanced over at her brother-in-law. “Well, Sol, as long as you are all right….”
All Sol could do was nod and wave at her.
“Perhaps it was a nightmare.”
“Of course, it was,” Wallis interjected. “Uncle Sollie eats too much at supper. You always tell him that, don’t you, Mommy.” She turned to him, smiled and shook a finger at him. “You shouldn’t put so much in your mouth, Uncle Sollie.”
“Oh Wallis, you care so much for your uncle, don’t you?” her mother sighed.
“Of course, Mommy.”
“Well, try to have pleasant dreams, Sol, please.”
“Yes, Uncle Sollie, dream of me, and everything will be all right.” Wallis could see a flash of dread across his sweating face.
“Come, Wallis, we must let Uncle Sol get his rest.”
“First I want to give him a good night kiss.” Wallis went to his bed and pecked him on the forehead. “Yes, Uncle Sollie, you must rest well so you can go to your factory tomorrow and invent more of those clever little gadgets of yours. You need to make lots of money to buy me pretty new dresses.”

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