The Pen of a Ready Writer

     "Alive? Yes, but maybe not for long unless you save her." Emery felt the officer's grip on her arm loosen, and she shook herself free.  "She'll die if they put her in that Box again."      Lady Carlysle stared at Emery and tears spilled over on her cheeks.  "Alive?  My baby is alive?"      "Lady Carlysle, if you don't mind me interrupting, this is the Clayton girl.  You remember your old gardener?  Clayton?" the gardener shook his hands by his sides, as if stirring his lady's memory.      The butler, Antrin, shifted his weight and looked highly uncomfortable.  "Oh, yes, mmm, Clayton," he stammered.      But Lady Carlysle didn't seem to hear.  "Where is she?" Her voice was soft, almost pleading.      "At this moment, she lies just outside your gardens, knocked unconscious by the hands of these officers." Emery felt her voice quivering.  "She...

     Voices swirled, and Emery felt herself being yanked to her feet.  Puffy grayness clouded her vision as she tried to clear her head.  "No," she murmured.  She pulled in vain against the hands the held and tried again.  "No!"      "Good heavens, officer!" The cultured woman's voice spoke again, and, through the fog in her own mind, Emery caught sight of satins and pearls.  "Is such violence really necessary on the steps of the Carlysle Mansion?"  The woman waved her hand.  "Antrin, fetch my husband."      "Elizabeth!" Emery shouted the word like a plea or a password.  Her vision cleared and she locked her gaze with the woman in satins just in time to see the woman turn deathly pale.  Emery lowered her voice.  "Elizabeth Carlysle.  Or Beth, as she prefers."      The satin woman backed away, retreating into her house.  "Take her away," she said, her voice cr...