SAVAGE BEAUTY

by Peggy Webb

“I don’t know. I’m at my desk in my suite and didn’t hear her come in. Is everything all right?”

  “Would you check? Clive got a little testy, and I wanted to make sure Annabelle didn’t take it personally.”

  “Sure. Hang on.” He followed her progress upstairs by the sounds she made. Then he heard a door opening, Lily’s voice saying, Annabelle are you okay? And her daughter’s answer, Sure, Mom. Why wouldn’t I be?

  The click of Lily’s heels, then her voice again. “She’s fine, Stephen. She’s on her computer.

  Stephen congratulated himself on how easy it was to control her. Clive had taught him well. Plus, years of being the company’s spin doctor hadn’t hurt.

  “I suppose the greenhouse is less appealing than social media.”

  “Who knows? She could be scoping out a movie she wants to watch or researching something that has captured her imagination. She’s a smart girl, Stephen.”

  “I know. That’s why I have a surprise for her. I’m afraid I’m going to miss dinner again tonight, but can you make sure she’s in the library afterward? And Toni, too.”

  “A surprise? How unlike you, Stephen.”

  That sounded sarcastic to him. Was Lily showing some rebellion? “Just have them there to please me, darling.”

  Another long silence. What on earth was going on? Finally she heaved a big sigh. Was that an insult? He felt his face heating again.

  “I can manage Annabelle, but I don’t know about Toni.”

  “You’ll soon be the lady of the house, Lily. You need to learn to manage her, and you can start now.”

  There was a blistering silence, and then a click. She’d hung up on him! He couldn’t believe it. His face flamed so hot he had to go into the bathroom and splash water over it to cool down. This wouldn’t do. Stephen never let his emotions take control. He had a lot of work to do to bring Lily back into line.

  Clive had preached this lesson all Stephen’s life.

  An Allistair wife is always obedient. It’s a cardinal rule, Stephen. Remember that.

  The knock on his office door was tentative. “Mr. Allistair?” It was Glenda Jane, sounding contrite. She knew what she’d done. And she knew he wouldn’t pull any punches when he dealt with her.

  Stephen felt a glow of satisfaction. That was the way to deal with business and family alike.

  “Come in and close the door behind you.”

  Stephen clutched the engagement pictures that had been delivered to his office late that afternoon. They would be the perfect way to bridge the gap with Lily. But when he walked into the library for the evening ritual, sharing photos of his and Lily’s momentous occasion became the last thing on his mind. He simply couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Lily was seated in his chair, her hands outstretched toward the fire and her face as unconcerned as if she didn’t know she’d broken a cardinal rule. Every person has a place in the family, and every person knows his rightful place.

  To make matters worse, she was the only person in the room. Stephen already knew Clive wouldn’t be there. He’d explicitly told his grandfather not to come, to go straight to his apartment on the third floor and rest. He didn’t want the stress in the greenhouse and the soaking Clive had endured to make him sick, especially not before the wedding. But there was no excuse for the others to be absent.

  “Where are Annabelle and Toni?”

  “Annabelle is in her room, and I don’t know where Toni is.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “It’s not my job to keep tabs on her, and it’s not yours, either.”

  As he sat in his grandfather’s chair, Stephen held onto his temper by a thread. He couldn’t let this setback ruin his evening.

  “I’m going to ignore that remark, Lily.”

  “I don’t want you to ignore it. I want you to react.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re always in control, even when we kiss. Why is that, Stephen? Why is there never a single moment when you don’t let your passion overrule this ridiculous thing you have about no sex before marriage?”

  “Is that what this is all about? You want me to besmirch your name again, and give this town something to gossip about?”

  She looked horrified, then bent over with her hands covering her face. Normally he’d have called her darling and raced over to comfort her. He’d have used every ounce of his Allistair charm to cajole her out of her current mood.

  “If that’s your problem,” he added, “I’m willing to discuss it like adults.” Her shoulders heaved. Was she crying? “Look at me, Lily.”

  She flung herself to her feet and glared at him, hands on her hips. “No! That is not my problem. Do you think I’m so shallow I’d build my future entirely on passion?”

  Was this a harbinger of things to come in his marriage? If that was the case, he’d have been better off to pay somebody to carry his child.

  “I didn’t say that, Lily. You did.”

  “My problem is that you lied to me about the woman in the garden, Stephen. And don’t you dare act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  Who had told her? Surely not Toni. His evil mother hated Lily. She hated anybody who was younger and more beautiful.

  “I never act, Lily. I said she was Graden’s mother because I didn’t want you to find out the truth about the fire and worry. You’re already overly stressed about Cee Cee.”

  She stood there, undecided, while the clock chimed the half hour. Graden appeared in the doorway with the hot chocolate, but Stephen waved him off. Tonight’s soothing ritual was already ruined. There was no need to waste further time he could put to better use.

  Stephen stood, too, but he made no attempt to take his fiancée into his embrace. Let her feel the consequences of her actions. Let her learn that emotional outbursts would get her nowhere.

  “I have work to do, Lily. Goodnight.”

  “Wait. What did you want to tell me about Annabelle?”

  Why should he reward her bad behavior with a surprise? On the other hand, if wanted to gain the girl’s trust, he didn’t have another minute to waste.

  “I would love for her to work with me and get to know the business.”

  “I don’t want her around Glenda Jane. From what I understand, she’s unstable. What if she took Cee Cee out of revenge? I’m told she’s tried it before. What if she decides to take Annabelle?”

  He felt his control slipping. Lily had gone beyond irritating and was rapidly becoming as unmanageable as her daughter.

  “You’re right. She did try to take two children of our employees, but that was many years ago, long before Clive paid for extensive therapy. Do you think we’d keep her on at Allistair Roses if she were still unstable?”

  “Well… no.”

  “Lily, Annabelle loved the cultivars. I was going to give her three to work with any way she likes. If she could succeed in turning them into roses worthy of the Allistair brand, I was going to let her name them. And I would be with her all day, every day, teaching her. However, if you don’t want her to work with her future father, just say the word. We’ll forget I ever mentioned it.”

  “Stephen…I hardly know what to say.”

  “Thank you will do.”

  “Of course. Thank you.”

  “All right, then. I’ll see her at the nursery greenhouse in the morning at seven.”

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  With Clive’s voice whispering through him, he walked out and left Lily standing there, probably still expecting him to kiss her. His grandfather’s voice echoed all the way to his home office.

  Sometimes you have to teach lessons the hard way.

  Chapter Ten

  She sat in her prison chair reading one of her prison books. Surprisingly, it was the kind of fantasy novel she usually loved. Still, it wasn’t love of reading that had led her to the chair. It was sheer exhaustion and terror.

  Though she’d searched every corner of her bedroom and bathroom
, she’d found nothing that would suggest an escape route. And even if she found one, there was no way she could get out of her leg iron and chain. It was just long enough to allow her free rein of the bathroom and the area between the chair and the bed. Anything else was out of the question.

  She picked up the note she’d found on her table when she woke up. Was it this morning? Noon? Middle of the afternoon? She had no concept of time. The light in her room burned constantly, and there was no way for the shadows of the sun or the moon to reach her damp prison.

  She re-read the note, searching for clues:

  This is your food ration for the day. Eat all of it. I’ve brought clean clothes. You must take a bath every day, brush your teeth and keep yourself well-groomed. Everything you need is in the bathroom. It’s imperative you remain clean and healthy.

  The food had been more substantial than yesterday, beef stew and thick cornbread, three kinds of vegetables and another assortment of fresh fruit. The clothes he’d brought were too big but at least they included a wool sweater and warm leggings.

  But how could she remain healthy chained in this damp place without sunshine or exercise? And for what purpose?

  Her mind stalled at the horrors his letter conjured up. She scrunched into the soft cushions of her chair and pretended she was in a cave, sheltered from the cold and whatever monster prowled beyond the walls. She held The Once and Future King in front of her face to block out the sight of her lumpy bed and the chain fastened to the wall. Then she turned the pages and vanished into the mists of Avalon.

  The scream catapulted her from the chair. It went on and on, echoing from beyond her room, tearing through her like the worst nightmare she’d ever had. She dropped her book and clapped her hands over both ears, but she could still hear the echoes of terror long after the screaming had stopped.

  “Please, please, please.” It was a desperate prayer that had no words. It was her very soul crying out to save her from whatever depraved creature was just beyond her locked door.

  Finally the sounds died away, and she took her hands off her ears. Suddenly, a new thought burst into bloom, and she couldn’t pick up the book to read. She couldn’t even conjure up a magical thought to transport her.

  What if there was another prisoner? The thought of not being alone in this forbidding place brought tears to her eyes.

  The key in the lock made her jump. She wiped her eyes just as he walked into the room. His hideous mask was a fresh shock to her already overloaded nervous system. He was all in black again, but this time he wore a loose black coat with multiple deep pockets.

  “I see you ate and cleaned yourself up. Good girl.”

  “Why do you care?” Had he heard the screams? Did she dare ask?

  “I care. That’s all you need to know for now. Remove your sweater.” When she hesitated, he said, “Do as I say, or pay a stiff price.”

  She took off her sweater and put it in her lap. He folded it and placed it on the bed. For just a split second his back was turned. She did a quick survey of her table. Neither the books nor the plastic tray and aluminum plate were useful as weapons. She longed for a brick, a baseball bat, a lamp to bash him over the head. Then she’d search his pockets for keys and be free.

  Would it work that way?

  He came back to her chair, his mask revealing nothing. “Don’t ever believe you can overpower me when my back is turned.”

  Did he read minds?

  “I don’t. I won’t.”

  “Don’t lie to me, either. Lies are unacceptable here.”

  “Where am I?”

  He studied her for a long time, his eyes dark and unreadable through the holes in the rubber mask. Finally, he said, “Stretch out your right arm, make a fist and don’t ask why.”

  She did as she was told, and he quickly wrapped a rubber tourniquet around her upper arm. Then he took a syringe from his pocket and pulled the cap off the needle.

  She nearly fainted. She hated the sight of blood, especially her own.

  “I see you’re afraid. Shut your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.”

  He swabbed her arm then stuck the needle into her vein and stood beside her chair for such a long time she felt herself getting weak. How much blood was he taking? And why? She felt as if she’d fallen into the middle of a nightmare and couldn’t wake up.

  She couldn’t risk opening her eyes, not after he’d ordered her to keep them shut. When she felt as if she’d topple over, he withdrew the needle, pressed a cotton ball against her vein and wrapped a stretchy piece of adhesive around her arm.

  “Open your eyes, but don’t make a sound.”

  Her blood was lined up in vials along the tabletop. She lost count at ten. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

  He pulled a brown bottle out of his pocket and set it beside her blood. “This is a multi-vitamin. Take one every day after you eat your breakfast. You have to stay healthy.”

  Her stomach roiled with nausea. She thought she might be sick all over his black boots.

  He went into her bathroom and came back with a plastic cup of water and a small white pill. “Take this. It will make you feel better.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “You’ll be sorry.”

  She took the pill from him then the water.

  “Good girl.” He rubbed his hand over her bald head then filled his pockets with the vials of blood and walked out.

  As soon as the lock clicked she spit the pill out then flushed it down the toilet. She went back into her narrow room, put her ear to the wall and listened until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she slowly counted to one hundred.

  Finally, there was nothing but silence in the hall.

  “Are you there?” she called. There was no answer. “Please. I’ve been taken captive. If you can hear me, just say yes.”

  Her heart raced as she listened. In the long stretch of time, she could hear nothing except the echo of her own voice. She struggled to hang onto a shred of hope.

  “Are you afraid to talk?” she called. “If you are, take your metal plate and tap on the duct work. Please!”

  She waited for what seemed forever, and then the sound came. A faint ringing along the duct work. Two taps.

  I’m here.

  Chapter Eleven

  While the sliver of a moon shone through Lily’s window, death came whispering through her dreams. She tossed about and reached for the empty pillow on the other side of her bed. Low moans echoed on the air, grew stronger and more fierce until they filled the entire room.

  Lily jerked upright. “Is someone there?” Or had she made the sounds in her sleep.

  The room was quiet now. Groggy and uncertain, she peered around. It was pitch black, the curtains firmly closed against the night. Not even a night light relieved the darkness.

  Lily.

  Was that a whisper or a draft from the vents stirring the curtains?

  “Who’s there?” She reached for the lamp, miscalculated the distance, and her cell phone went flying off the nightstand. It landed with a soft thud on the carpet.

  She scrambled around until finally she found both the light switch and her phone, which had skittered under the bed. But there was nothing to see except her dressing table and the French provincial desk in the corner.

  Wait. When she’d come back from that awful ritual with Stephen in the library, she’d stopped to tell Annabelle about working in the greenhouses, and then she’d done some work at the desk. But she hadn’t left her chair pulled back like that.

  She went to the desk, and there, tucked underneath her heart-shaped paperweight was a slip of ruled paper, torn from a notebook of some kind. It contained one line, written with pencil in a shaky hand.

  Death devours all lovely things.

  She grabbed slippers and robe, stuffed the note in her pocket and slipped out. The hallway was dimply lit by ancient wall sconces that gave her the shivers. She intended to replace them, but never before had they
reminded her of something she might see in Dracula’s castle.

  Suddenly she glimpsed a shadow against the massive door going into the east wing. The shadow looked up, pale-faced and indistinct, ghost-like, and then it darted down the stairs.

  “Wait!” Mindful of the sleeping household, Lily quickly moved in that direction. “Stop. I want to talk.” She took the stairs two at a time.

  “Go away.” The whisper was harsh, filled with bitterness and something else, some deep emotion Lily couldn’t identify.

  “Toni? Is that you?”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  The older woman scurried into the kitchen with Lily right behind her. “I’m not going to question why you keep going in and out of a locked door into rooms that are filled with nothing but dusty old records.”

  Toni sank into a chair, dropped a large old-fashioned key onto the table and lit a cigarette. “I used to live in the east wing. Some things that belong to me are still there.”

  That would explain the key and the ramblings. “I see,” Lily said. She would love to know more, but she wasn’t about to ask questions. She hated people prying into her business and made a point never to poke around in somebody else’s affairs.

  Toni waved away a fog of smoke. “Don’t tell Clive and Stephen about this.”

  “I won’t.” Smoking was not allowed in Allistair Manor. Though Lily didn’t smoke, it was one of the many rules she was coming to despise. “I’m going to make tea. Do you want something to drink?”

  “Anything but hot chocolate.”

  Lily almost gave her a high five. Had Toni hated the rules and rituals that were beginning to get under Lily’s skin? She steeped tea in a silence that felt almost companionable. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Black.” As Toni drank her tea, her expression was a study in sorrow. Though no lines had dared touch her face, had regret carved a hollow place in her soul? How could you leave behind a child and watch a sick husband go to hole up in Switzerland without feeling as if you’d lost the best part of yourself?

  Lily pulled the note from her pocket and slid it across the table. “What do you make of this?”