by Zoe Blake
“Good evening, your grace.”
“Evening, Thomas. I trust everything is quiet and secure?” asked Richard’s dark, even-toned voice. I could see the raised eyebrow expression he was so fond of in my mind’s eye as he spoke. He had a way of asking questions where you knew the only acceptable response was yes. No matter what had occurred between us, he never seemed to raise his voice or lose that calm control of his. It made me want to scream and scratch his eyes out. Maybe then I would break through his tightly leashed emotions.
I could hear the rustling of fabric and the shuffling of feet. Thomas was probably taking his coat and top hat.
“Yes, your grace. Lady Elizabeth retired early this evening so the house has been nice and quiet. Although we did just have a small mishap in the hallway just moments ago, but nothing to worry about. The maids are grabbing a dust bin and brush as we speak.”
I waited for Richard’s response. Would he guess?
Nothing.
Everything went still.
I restrained the urge to peek around the threshold into the hallway to see what was happening.
When he finally spoke, Richard’s tone had a slightly hard edge to it as he asked, “What mishap?”
“A figurine, your grace. It seems to have fallen and broken in the lower hallway toward the servants’ stairs. I was almost certain that piece was on the upstairs landing table. I swear I passed that thing a hundred times already.”
There was a quick footfall of feet. “Tell Hutley to find Harris. We need the hunting dogs.” I could hear what I thought was Richard heading toward the stairs. “Now!” he shouted.
“Yes, your grace!”
Again, I heard hurried footfalls but this time down the hallway in the other direction.
I waited only for the span of a breath before bolting out of my hiding place. I didn’t even bother checking to see if the entranceway was clear, instead relying on luck that Richard had headed directly to my room while Thomas headed to the back-servants’ quarters to fetch Hutley.
Running into the dim foyer, I once more wrenched open the heavy front entrance door and ran out into the night. My only thought beyond escape was that I felt an odd arrogant pride in that I had actually managed to make Richard yell.
Chapter 15
Richard
Her room was empty. Damn my own male arrogance in assuming I had left her so sexually sated and thoroughly confused as to her own state of mind that she would spend the rest of the evening in a daze with little thought beyond the sensual soreness between her ass cheeks from the fucking I had given her with my crop. A portend to the even more brutal fucking I planned to give her with my own flesh.
When I received the message that I was required back in London to smooth over some board members of a multi-billion-dollar acquisition I had just green-lighted, I didn’t want to leave her so soon. My plan had been to remain constantly by her side till I was certain she had accepted my carefully constructed Victorian world as her new reality. Unfortunately, in order to keep myself above suspicion back in the real world, I couldn’t very well ignore a call from my board. So, against my better wishes, I left for London with strict instructions that Elizabeth was not to be left unattended.
I should have restrained her to the bed but the risk of my being delayed was too great. Right now, the actors/servants I had hired had been told Elizabeth was playing a role the same as them. That of the emotionally unstable beautiful ward just returned from an asylum who was going to eventually fall in love with the beastly lord of the manor. They were told it was the producer’s way of adding a sensational element to the reality show to give it more appeal. I knew that flimsy excuse would cover most of her odd behavior but not all.
And questions would certainly arise if the servants learned I had restrained her naked to her bed for the better part of an afternoon till late in the evening, especially if she began screaming for help and I wasn’t there to silence her in my own particular way.
There was already too much rumor mongering going on over the sudden disappearance of that asshole footman, whatever his name was. According to my report from Harris, most assumed I had laid down a zero-tolerance rule when it came to twenty-first century intrusions into our reality show but that would certainly change if people started to become uneasy about how Elizabeth was being treated.
I turned at the sound of someone’s approach. Harris’ grizzled visage soon appeared over the threshold.
“Get the dogs. She can’t have gotten far.”
He nodded. “I already ordered your horse saddled. There is a bottle and a linen handkerchief in the right saddlebag. Remember, just a few drops. You don’t want to kill the lass, after all.”
I nodded in agreement. She was far too precious to kill.
Like the others on the staff, I used a suite of rooms at the nearby hotel I had purchased to change back into my preferred Victorian attire after being forced to engage with the modern world. Unfortunately, I was dressed in evening attire as would be befitting a gentleman retiring from a night at playing cards; there was no time to change into riding attire.
Elizabeth was on foot and headed into the dangerous terrain of the surrounding woods. She had no idea how close my property actually was to the English coast, and some very steep cliffs. It was why the property was often enveloped in a thick fog on certain nights. It rolled in from over the sea, giving the entire estate an eerie feeling of isolated timelessness, making it perfect for my pursuits. That same fog that made this property so desirable for my singular pursuit of Elizabeth may also be the very thing that killed her when she failed to see the sheer drop at her feet before it was too late.
My horse was saddled and ready right at the front. Hopping on its back, I whistled for my own pair of Irish wolfhounds, Cerberus and Hades, to follow me. Riding hell for leather, I headed north as I shouted over my shoulder for Harris to head south.
Thomas had mentioned that the figurine had broken moments before he arrived. I’m certain that was Elizabeth’s clever way of distracting the footman away from the door. If I was correct, that meant she likely fled north and I couldn’t be more than ten minutes behind her. With her on foot and dressed as she was, I would eat up that distance in no time on my thoroughbred. Begrudgingly, I admired her daring spirit. The little minx would have had to slip practically right by me in order to escape.
It didn’t take long for the dogs to send up a howl of alarm. I hadn’t given them anything with her scent to track, there had been no time. I had hoped just the thrill of the chase and their own keen sense of hearing would draw them to the sound of some kind of prey fleeing. By the sounds of their cries, they had found something up ahead.
After skirting the tree line for a few minutes, I slowed my horse to a walk and began to navigate between the trees, trying to follow the cries of the hounds in pursuit. Clever girl had obviously headed straight for the cover of the woods, knowing she wouldn’t have much of a head start. It made my task more difficult but not impossible.
Fog interlaced between the dark outlines of tree trunks. My head turned at every crack of a stick or rustle of dried leaves. The hounds sent up another cry. I knew from experience in hunting with them that the high-pitched wail meant they had run their query to ground. Pulling on my horse’s reins, I headed in that direction.
I saw her pale face first. It shone bright and clear against the dark backdrop. Her body was pressed against a tree as Cerberus and Hades kept her pinned.
Before I got too close, I pulled out my cellphone and shielded the screen with my hand so she wouldn’t see the glow. Only Harris and I were permitted cellphones within the borders of my property. I sent him a quick text.
Girl found.
Contact crew.
Prepare asylum.
It was past time Elizabeth realized this was not a game we were playing.
Chapter 16
Lizzie
He had found me.
No surprise. Through the trees, I could just make o
Then I heard the dogs.
Feeling like a helpless fox in a hunt, I sprinted across the field and headed for the dark outline to my left, hoping that perhaps I would find shelter in the tangled branches and brambles of the trees and underbrush.
Crashing through the forest like the Hounds of the Baskerville, they relentlessly pursued me. Great hulking beasts with shaggy grey manes and snarling teeth. Petrified, I dug my nails into the tree trunk behind me, actually praying Richard would find me in time.
Something large was pushing its way toward me. Eventually I could just make out the shape of a man on a horse.
“Richard? Is that you?” I cried out, my voice high and pitched with alarm.
Whoever it was didn’t respond, only continued their slow pace forward until he loomed over me. Finally, I could see the harsh planes of Richard’s face. Even in the dimness of the moonlight that filtered down through the trees and bounced off the grey fog, I could see the cold, flinty look in his eyes.
Once more his tone was carefully controlled. “You have disappointed me, Elizabeth.”
“Please, just call off your dogs!”
With his approach they had stopped their dreadful howling, but both beasts still had me pinned against the tree trunk with their aggressive stance and sharp bared teeth.
Instead of listening to me, he dismounted and reached into his saddlebag for something, I couldn’t see what. As if I hadn’t spoken, he continued to talk. “I have afforded you a great deal of patience because of your fragile mind but now I see I have been too lenient with you.”
Too lenient?
My stomach twisted into a knot, the magnitude of my precipitate flight starting to settle onto my shoulders like a cold shroud of impending doom. I knew if caught I would pay, I just hadn’t allowed myself to truly consider how dearly before attempting to escape, knowing if I had, I never would have dared it.
“Cerberus. Hades. Heel.”
Of course, he would name these two hellhounds of his after, well… hellhounds!
Immediately both dogs retreated to sit on either side of Richard, looking no more menacing than a pair of beagles.
“Richard, we need to talk. This has all gone on far enough. You must know that people will be looking for me by now,” I pleaded, trying to reason with him.
“As you are an orphan with no family or connections to speak of, and I am your legal guardian, I cannot know of anyone who would question your whereabouts. As my ward, it is to be expected you would be under my roof… under my protection.”
God, I hated that even, matter-of-fact tone of his. As if any disobedience or disagreement were a matter of my own folly, not his. If he said the sky were purple, he would just expect everyone around him to toe the line and agree. Why was I not surprised? It took a special level of psychotic arrogance to literally recreate a world that was over a hundred years past.
“I am not yours!” I screamed. My voice bounced off the trees like an echo, sending the sound of several birds at rest since dusk scattering high into the trees with their own screeches of alarm. I was losing all patience as hysteria took hold over my perilous position.
I was alone in the woods with a madman.
His arm whipped out to grab me by the back of the neck and pull me against his chest. As I opened my mouth to scream, he swooped down to claim it in a punishing kiss. The damp chill of the foggy night vanished as he pressed his body against my own. As he took a step toward me, I could feel the hard scrape of the tree trunk along my back and the even harder press of his cock against my stomach. He tasted like coffee and tobacco as his tongue swept in to swirl about my own. He consumed me. I fought against the power of his assault even as I clung to his shoulders. This was what it felt like to be the object of someone’s obsession. A constant battle between desire and fear. I warred with my mind even as my body surrendered to his touch.
Pulling away, his heavy breath fell in chilled mists over my face. “Say that again. Say that you’re not mine. I dare you,” he growled.
“Richard, I…”
Swiftly placing his hand beneath my jaw to keep my head still, he then placed a folded piece of fabric over my lips and nose. My eyes widened in alarm as I unwillingly inhaled the sickeningly sweet scent. Using my nails, I clawed at his wrists and forearms, but could not loosen his grasp.
I could feel my body slacken as I was slowly pulled under. My knees weakened as my head lolled against his shoulder.
I heard him whisper against my forehead, “You are mine and mine alone, my love,” before the sweet waves of darkness overtook me.
Chapter 17
Lizzie
I couldn’t move my arms or legs.
That was my very first thought as I clawed my way back to lucidity.
Opening my eyes the barest of slits, I could see thick leather straps wrapped around each wrist. I inhaled, trying to take a calming breath as panic rose in my breast, but I could feel a hard band preventing my lungs from fully expanding. I was definitely strapped down into a wooden chair. I could feel leather belts around my ankles as I shifted my bare feet over the cold icy tile. Goosebumps rose on my naked flesh as a damp draft circled around.
The air was a fetid mixture of stringent bleach, urine, and mold. As my eyes adjusted to the candlelight, I realized in horror that I was once more in that strange chamber at the asylum. The terror of that moment seized my lungs as I scanned the mostly bare room with pale, tiled-covered walls and long tables filled with sinister-looking surgical implements and glass bottles of all shapes and sizes with their gummed labels covered in black ink scrawl.
On the other side of the door, out in the hallway, I could hear slightly muffled voices. Was Richard on the other side of that door? He couldn’t be so cruel as to just leave me here in this hell? I strained to hear what they were saying. Right before the door opened, I could have sworn I heard someone call out, “Everyone ready? And action!”
The moment they did, the entire place seemed to erupt into a chaos of sounds and clatter. Maniacal laughter, screams, the clang of metal chains, footfalls racing to and fro just outside the door, the harsh sound of someone getting slapped, then the sound of a scuffle.
As the double doors opened, I could see nothing but frenetic activity outside in the hallway. A female inmate dressed in a filthy nightgown with shorn hair rocking back and forth on the floor. Another inmate banging her head against the wall. What looked to be nurses but they were dressed in full gowns with aprons and small caps on their heads ignoring all the pain and suffering as they kicked one person out of the way and slapped another for getting a dirty handprint on their white pinafore.
I was so struck by the deplorable display of inhumanity; I didn’t even notice the two people who entered the room until the door was once more shut tightly closed.
Dr. Swede and Mrs. Higgs entered.
The two individuals who had so cruelly tortured me not two days ago.
“I am disappointed to see you return to our sanitarium so soon after your departure, Lady Larkin,” sighed Dr. Swede as he furrowed his brow and adjusted his glasses.
Mrs. Higgs’ mouth puckered as she narrowed her eyes, every gesture an illustration of judgmental bitterness. “I’m not the least bit surprised, Doctor. Once a harlot, always one. Such hysteria brought on by the idle hands and minds of the aristocracy does not deserve our Christian pity,” she spat out.
“Careful, Mrs. Higgs. You don’t want Duke Winterbourne hearing you talk like that about his ward or he’s liable to have you and your family shipped off to the colonies before next Michaelmas,” scolded the doctor.
“Where is Richard? I want to see Richard!” I cried out as I strained against my binds.
“Duke Winterbourne is awaiting your return in the salon. But first we have to do a full evaluation and examination. He says you continue to exhibit strange flights of fantasy and extremely unsuitable bursts of temper.”
“Fuck you! Help! Help! I’m being held captive! Someone help me!” I could feel my skin pinch and pull as I violently fought the restraints and began to rock back and forth in the chair, setting it teetering side to side on its spindly legs.
Shouting over my screams, Dr. Swede said, “Mrs. Higgs, we will need to start with cold therapy before proceeding to the enema.”
What?
Mrs. Higgs opened a side door and called out to someone. Two large women entered. Each of their stocky faces had that rosy-cheeked appearance of windburn, the slight blush color the only vestige of femininity on either of them given their burly, staunch bodies and the harsh, masculine slope of their brows.
Unlike before where they dumped a bucket of cold water over my head, this time the whole chair was picked up and I was bodily carried through the same side door into a much smaller room. Perfectly square, it was empty except for three large tubs. Suspended at the end of each tub was some sort of metal bracket. They carried me over to the tub in the center and secured the chair into the bracket fittings. I could hear the clack of metal hinges being snapped into place as the wood groaned and squeaked from the compression. Looking down between my legs, I saw the tub was filled to the brim with water.
“You can’t do this! You can’t! Richard! Richard!”
“Calm yourself, Lady Larkin. I assure you this is for your own good.” Dr. Swede gave a nod.
Looking down, I watched as one of the hulking woman pulled a lever.
“No!”
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