“You know, my friend,” said Lord Rorsach, “the amount of time you spend with my wife is bordering nigh on suspicious. The more ignorant of our colleagues are beginning to talk.”

It was one of their after-dinner chats in Rorsach’s study, a comfortable room with forest green walls, elegant oak furniture and a roaring fire. There was the chess set where they’d whiled away so many sleepless nights; there, thrust in a corner, was the stuffed lemur, which they’d always joked had to be Rorsach’s long lost twin, so similar were they in appearance. Jareth Emmet felt a warm surge of contentment as he sat in the familiar surroundings, nursing a cup of mulled wine. When his friend spoke, however, he looked up.

“My friend, surely they realize that you and Elba are far too fair a couple for me to ever come between? The beautiful blondes.”

Rorsach smiled back at him, and they began to talk about politics or something similar. Jareth couldn’t truly remember however; his thoughts were far away, to later that night, when he would see Elba again and hold her in his arms.

He could not predict how much his friend knew, or guessed.
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The following is an excerpt from The Times Preceding Revolution, and Their Impacts on Our Beloved Country:

The events which follow the last supper of Lord Arlington Rorsach and his friend Jareth Emmet are difficult to follow. The infamous Maggie Diaries -- the alleged accounts of a maid who served in the Rorsach manor, whose reliability is questionable -- detail a dramatic exit, in which the loud, but suspiciously incomprehensible, screaming of the two men is enough to wake the mistress of the house sleeping two floors above. More trustworthy testimonies say the men left on apparently good terms, Rorsach bidding his friend farewell in his usual manner before immediately returning to contact his network of agents. From here the story is well known: Rorsach’s agents stole Emmet’s pistol and placed it at the crime scene of a murder/robbery, and so corrupt were the courts of the time that the circumstantial evidence was enough to send the influential but marginalized politician to life in prison. Without the support of the eloquent speaker, Rorsach’s revolutionary propositions quickly lost support, and by March 11th 1712, only six months later, Rorsach was unpopular enough that the king could safely have him and his family executed.

Historians today still debate on Rorsach’s motives for the framing of his friend. Politically Emmet was a benefit to Rorsach, who was from all accounts a poor orator. Some have hypothesized that there was perhaps a more personal reason behind the sudden betrayal, but we have no evidence to support or refute this claim. As it is, we must let this mystery lie for now, and mourn: “Alas, so much which is lost to time, which can never be recovered.”
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Wirt Hodgkin, Ph.D.
Professor of Revolutionary History Studies, New Haven University