In light of everything, Katheryn fled. The other coast was the perfect haven for the recently disgraced, and discreet contacts set her up with little fuss. It was time to go about fixing her image. So she went to church.
It was a change from the dry services of her past. The clergy seemed in near ecstasy in any given moment, and one of the many choirs was always practising--a near annoyance when she sought solitude in the bright furnishings of the place.
After awhile, she began to notice a girl.
She was small, mousy, but for the provocative pout of her lips. Young, though her defeated stance and weary eyes belied her age. They told her the girl's equally young husband, whom she had married in secret, had died by his own workings. She had been discovered in time to save her, for she was going to kill herself and follow him. She she came to church every day to repent for her sins and pray for her loved one's soul.
Interesting, thought Katheryn. Something to occupy the time as her outward appearance returned to its squeaky-clean state. They would not let her in the convent, the rumour went, for she was the only daughter of one of the two wealthiest men in the city; a Capulet, and bound for another, more viable marriage, if the proper husband that did not care about damaged goods came along.
The scandal of it all attracted her; the Mertuil family, too, was influential, and could not go long without a well-hidden dalliance. As word slowly began to spread back in New York that Katheryn Mertuil had sought the forgiveness of God to atone for her sins, she would find her own amusments to satiate her wicked mind.
words © SA. characters, show, and people not mine. no infringement is intended.