The Dressmaker's Dowry

by Meredith Jaeger

  Hanna stood up, though her legs felt weak. Her sweaty grasp tightened around Margaret’s ring. Robert. Hanna dared not let herself imagine what he had done to Margaret. Why could she not see what a horrible creature Robert was, hidden beneath his fine suits? A monster! The crime he’d committed was unforgivable. Beautiful Margaret, who would never harm a soul! Why had he taken her?

  Stumbling, Hanna ran toward the door. She would find Margaret and save her. And then she would kill Robert with her bare hands if she had to.

  “No!” Clive yelled. “Don’t set foot in that house. Get away from this place while you still can!”

  Hanna knocked a chair sideways in her haste to leave Clive’s cottage. He hollered behind her as she dashed across the lawn, but Hanna didn’t turn around. Her eyes stung with tears, focused only on the side door leading to the servants’ pantry. As she sprinted across the grass, Hanna’s lungs burned.

  Throwing herself against the knob, Hanna burst into the kitchen. Frances gasped, dropping a plate of beans. “You stupid cow! Look what you’ve made me do. What trouble are you up to now? Hey! Clean this up.”

  Ignoring Frances, Hanna pounded up the steps of the servants’ staircase, taking two at a time. Bracing her arm against the wall, she climbed higher and higher, toward the fourth floor. The sound at night she’d thought was the wind. Had that been Margaret’s screams? Hanna shuddered.

  Blinking back tears, Hanna steadied herself at the top of the dizzying spiral. When the stairs reached an end, she pushed open the door, emerging into a wing of the house she had never seen before. Through an oval window, she glimpsed Clive’s carriage house far below. Her breath came hard and fast, looking at the many doors.

  Running down the corridor, Hanna pushed open each one. “Margaret!” she screamed. “Are you here? Where are you?” But each time, dusty furniture covered in white cloth greeted her like ghosts, every room empty and silent as a grave. The wind howled in the trees and rattled the window glass. At the end of the hall, she spotted a narrow wooden staircase. As she dashed toward it, her lungs burned.

  In this rabbit warren of corridors, stairways, and hidden rooms, what monstrosities had taken place? Climbing blindly, Hanna wiped the sweat from her brow. She rattled the doorknob to the tower, the highest point of the colossal home. It was locked. “Margaret!” Hanna cried out. “Can you open this door?”

  She turned around, searching for a weapon. She had been so foolish not to find a hunting rifle or to take a knife from the kitchen. Heaving her body against the door with all her might, Hanna listened as the wood groaned. But it did not break. Again she slammed into the door, sending a shock of pain through her shoulder.

  “Open it!” Hanna screamed.

  She dropped to the ground, her fingers clawing at the dusty floorboards. But in the crevices between the boards, Hanna found no key. Beneath her, heavy footsteps creaked on the spiral staircase. Someone was coming. Blood rushed to her ears. Grabbing the back of her head, Hanna pulled a metal hairpin from her topknot and shoved it into the lock.

  She jiggled it back and forth. “Please, please!” she whispered, begging the lock to give. With a click, the doorknob turned in Hanna’s palm. Twisting it open, she pushed her way into the room, falling to her knees in the darkness.

  The stench hit her immediately, rotten and pungent. Her eyes darted from the windows, hung with black lace, to the dusty porcelain dolls and children’s toys scattered about the floor. Black crepe had been draped over the mirror on the wooden vanity in the corner. Mourning cloth.

  Rising to her feet, Hanna walked slowly toward the bed, covering her mouth as the thick air of death filled her pores and lungs. Propped against the pillows, surrounded by dried roses, Margaret lay naked, her red hair spilling over the satin and her white skin glowing pale as the moon. Mottled bruises covered Margaret’s neck, and her beautiful blue eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, lifeless.

  “No!” Hanna screamed, taking Margaret’s limp hand. Sobs racked Hanna’s body. Margaret had been dead for some time. She had come too late.

  “I see you’ve found her.”

  Hanna gasped. Robert stood in the doorway, lamplight from the hall illuminating his narrow shoulders. He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “You monster,” Hanna cried, dropping Margaret’s hand. “You’ve murdered her!”

  “Don’t disturb my Clara,” Robert said, taking a step forward. “She’s sleeping.”

  Hanna took in his high cheekbones, smooth forehead, and long regal nose—the face of a killer. His green eyes glinted with menace.

  “She is not Clara,” Hanna growled. “She is Margaret O’Brien, my dearest friend. Why did you do such a thing?”

  Robert’s body twitched, like he could not control his own movement. “Stop speaking,” he spat. “You can see it is Clara. Look at her lovely red hair.”

  Hanna looked down at Margaret and the bruises covering her body. How had she suffered at Robert’s hands? Heat rose within her, blurring her vision.

  “You deserve to die!” Hanna screamed, running toward Robert. Slamming her fists against his chest, she sobbed. “You will hang for this crime, you sick monster. You know this is not Clara. It is Margaret!”

  Robert pulled back, slapping Hanna hard across the cheek. She stumbled, clutching her face where it stung. Lunging, Robert grabbed Hanna’s wrists, his eyes lucid now. His breath hot on her neck, Robert looked at her with hatred.

  “Yes, I killed her,” he said, his voice harsh as gravel. “Just as I killed the other red-haired whore. Such teases, women are. Even little Clara, she had eyes like a harlot. I smothered her in her sleep so she would never tempt a man.”

  Hanna’s insides writhed like they were full of worms. “You vile beast! Your sister was only a child! Was she never sick?”

  Robert laughed, gripping Hanna tighter. “Katja will be next. She’s quite a pretty girl. I’ll let you watch as I snap her neck.”

  “No!” Hanna screamed, looking wildly about the room. Twisting back and forth, she fought against the vise hold of Robert’s fists. “Lucas, help!”

  A reptilian smile formed on Robert’s lips. “He cannot hear you. He’s with his father and mother in the drawing room, downstairs. You see, Frances informed me of your state, and so I asked her to shut the doors and draw the curtains. Our home is quite soundproof. Even you couldn’t hear Margaret’s screams whilst she was still alive.”

  “Help me!” Hanna yelled, louder this time, her voice hoarse. The smell of rotting flesh and fermented roses overpowered her, bringing on a wave of nausea.

  Robert clucked his tongue. “This was Clara’s room. No one comes here anymore, as if they would rather forget. I haven’t forgotten. She will forever be my little girl.”

  Gagging, Hanna struggled to breathe. She could not faint, not now.

  Robert’s green eyes flashed with hatred. “I’ve already placed our best family silver in your chamber. It shan’t be difficult to convince Lucas you’ve stolen it. I know of the ring he’s bought you, the fool.”

  Hanna tugged as hard as she could, but Robert would not let go.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “To marry a low-born slattern is unheard of, especially one as dirty as you.” He smiled like a madman, his teeth sharp as points. “I will have you thrown in jail for thievery, and your siblings shall become street urchins. Except for Katja, whom I’ll keep close.”

  Rage filled Hanna like fire, to the point where she couldn’t see anything other than red. With all her might, she rammed the top of her head against Robert’s nose. Pain flooded her skull, and a crack sounded. Robert yelped, releasing her wrists. Staggering backward, Hanna seized the moment to escape.

  Picking up her skirts, she ducked as Robert lunged for her, feeling a whoosh of air where his hands nearly grabbed ahold of her neck.

  “You little bitch,” Robert growled, blood dripping onto his suit.

  Hanna’s heart pounded against her rib cage as she darted to the d
oor. The stench of death clung to her hair and clothing. Shoving the door open, she ran down the hall. In a flurry of curse words, she heard Robert fall to the ground behind her, but she didn’t dare pause to turn around. She had to find the children! Fear surged within her body like waves in a storm as her feet thundered down the staircase.

  Reaching the third level of the mansion, Hanna ran through every room. “Hans!” she cried, entering the chamber where her brother and sister had been playing earlier with blocks and marbles. “Katja, where are you?”

  Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her head spun. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, turning in circles. A tall figure emerged from the shadows. Hanna brought a hand to her mouth, muffling a scream.

  “It’s me,” Martin said, stepping into the light. He held Hans by the hand and carried Katja on his shoulders. His worried eyes met Hanna’s. “Clive told me to find you and to take the children. He said we must leave right now.”

  “Yes,” Hanna said breathlessly. “As fast as we can.”

  Clutching Hans in her arms, she followed Martin down the stairs. She fought back tears as she felt her heart splinter into a million pieces. Though she longed to tell Lucas the horrible truth, she knew there would be no justice for Margaret. Hanna’s blood ran cold, recalling the eve of Margaret’s disappearance. During her carriage ride with Lucas, he had spoken of wealthy men who enjoyed bawdy shows, whilst pretending to attend meetings at the Young Men’s Christian Association.

  “What the rich don’t want to believe, they ignore, even if it’s taking place right under their noses.”

  The Havensworth family could never endure a scandal such as this. And no matter what Robert’s crime, they would not bring it to light. An innocent man would likely hang for Margaret’s murder. Perhaps it would be Clive or Kieran McClaren.

  Hugging Hans close, Hanna pressed her tear-stained cheek against his. She couldn’t bear holding such a terrible secret inside. And Lucas couldn’t bear learning the monstrous nature of his beloved cousin. Hanna would spare him that truth, even if it cost her the future she had envisioned.

  Martin pushed open the door to the kitchen, and the four of them ran together across the lawn, toward the road. Hanna breathed in a deep gulp of fresh air, like a fish that had been beached finally returned to the ocean. Clive waited with the carriage ready. Martin hoisted Katja inside, and then Hans.

  “Where are we going?” Hans asked, scrambling into the seat.

  Katja stopped sucking her thumb and looked at Hanna with wide, frightened eyes. “Lucas come with us?”

  “No, my loves,” Hanna said, a lump forming in her throat. “We will go on our own.”

  Martin climbed aboard the driver’s seat, sliding in next to Clive. “Hanna,” he said, his eyes darting nervously to the house. “It’s time.”

  He reached out his hand. With a creak, the front door to the mansion opened, and Georgina stepped outside. Hanna’s breath caught in her throat. Georgina hurried down the steps, the silken skirts of her gown rustling. Her beautiful face creased with worry as she ran forward, like a princess in a fairy story.

  “Hanna,” Georgina called. “Wait! You will leave us so abruptly? Whatever is the reason? I thought we were to sit down to supper.”

  “Get in, girl,” Clive yelled, tugging on the leather bridle of the horse.

  Hanna took a step toward Georgina, reaching into the bodice of her dress. “Please tell him I am sorry,” Hanna said, a tear trickling down her cheek as she placed the ring in Georgina’s palm. “But I cannot marry him.”

  Georgina’s mouth fell open. She stared at the jewel, the emerald sparkling beneath the streetlamps, surrounded by its halo of diamonds.

  Lifting up her skirt, Hanna took Martin’s hand. Her brother pulled her into the carriage, where she slid in beside the children.

  “Go now!” Hanna cried.

  With a whistle, Clive tugged the reins and the carriage lurched forward. As the horses began to trot, Hanna wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her lips trembled. But nothing prepared her for the moment when she saw Lucas standing in the doorway.

  Her chest clamped.

  “Hanna!” Lucas cried, running down the steps. “Stop, at once!”

  His eyes shone with desperation as he ran down the street, his legs pumping as he tried to catch up with the carriage.

  “I love you,” Hanna whispered, placing both hands over her heart, which seared like an open wound. “Forgive me.”

  Turning away so she would not see Lucas, Hanna sobbed into her palms. The carriage rocked as it bumped along the cobblestones. How she had deceived herself! The daughter of a blacksmith could never strive to become a rich man’s wife. No matter how deeply she loved Lucas, she’d been foolish to imagine herself a Havensworth. And just as she’d always believed, Hanna could not be foolish if she wished to survive.

  Chapter 21

  Sarah, Present Day

  When I opened the door to my apartment, my stomach filled with dread. I could tell from the look on Hunter’s face that he’d already read the article. He sat at our kitchen island, running his hands back and forth across his face—his telltale gesture for whenever he was nervous. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry.

  “Hey,” I said in a weak voice.

  “Hey,” Hunter answered, his hazel eyes following me as I walked toward the teapot. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  I bit my lip hard, tugging a packet of Earl Grey from the cupboard and putting it inside a mug. “What do you mean?” I said, my voice too high, too scared to turn around and look my husband in the eye.

  “Sarah.” Hunter’s voice was soft. “My father talked to me about an email he received today. It’s pretty serious.”

  Setting down my mug, I turned to face my husband, my arms wrapped across my chest as if I could protect myself. “Your father? Who sent it to him?”

  Hunter blew out his breath, puffing his cheeks. “Dad said it was a tip-off from his HR team at the firm. Someone reported you on LinkedIn. Look, I know you don’t work for him, but because you share our last name, HR was worried.”

  My stomach plummeted. Every suspicion I’d had that James was blackmailing me had been confirmed. He had gone too far. I had threatened his job by asking Jen to report him, and instead he’d reported me first.

  “What did they say?” I asked.

  Hunter grimaced. “Um, well, there was an article attached about a teenage driver who killed a three-year-old. They said the driver was you. Is it true?”

  I braced myself against the countertop, worried my legs would give out underneath me. It would be so easy to lie. The article didn’t name me. James couldn’t prove anything. But I had been lying for so long. I couldn’t do it anymore.

  A rock-hard lump rose in my throat. I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

  My voice had come out barely louder than a whisper, but it felt like I’d spoken to a crowded room while holding a microphone.

  When I opened my eyes, Hunter’s face was covered in judgment, just like the man at the scene of the accident. In that moment, I knew I was no longer the person Hunter thought he’d married. I covered my trembling mouth.

  “Sarah,” Hunter said, the color draining from his face. “Are you serious?”

  I couldn’t stop myself from seeing Connor’s limp leg, his tiny foot missing a shoe. I saw him in my sleep, at the grocery store, and sometimes even sitting at my desk while I tried to write. I pressed my hands to my heart, feeling the rising panic. “Stop asking me that! I already told you it was true, didn’t I?”

  Hunter sat there, his mouth hanging open. “You killed him?”

  I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I was late to work. I was speeding in the rain when I shouldn’t have been. I rear-ended the car in front of me. At first I thought it wasn’t so bad—maybe I’d given the driver whiplash. But then . . .”

  Hunter lifted his head to the ceiling and bit his lip. Then he looked at me like the policemen had at the s
tation, like I had killed a child on purpose.

  My lip trembled. “Please say something?”

  Hunter rubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me about this before? Why the hell would my dad have to tell me the news before I knew about it? Sarah, you’re my wife!”

  I sank to the floor, the lights of our kitchen ceiling shining too brightly, exposing me. “Because I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “But I’m not just anyone,” Hunter said. “I’m your husband!”

  My body began to shake, and I hugged my knees to my chest. “I thought if I told you, you would leave me. I wanted to tell you early on, but then you mentioned your friend Andy who got fired, and said something about how you couldn’t have him associated with your father’s company or your family name. I got scared, because I didn’t want to lose you and I have a criminal record too.”

  Hunter groaned, his face shifting from sadness to anger. “You didn’t tell me because of something I said? Sarah. This shows me you don’t trust me. We’re supposed to be a team! Do you know how much this scares me?”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  Hunter glared at me. “How many times have I helped you through your panic attacks?” He scoffed. “You don’t have social anxiety, do you? Every single time I’ve rubbed your back and asked you to tell me what was wrong, you refused.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, my stomach twisting. This was the end for us. I could feel it. And worst of all, I deserved it. My voice broke into a sob. “I was lucky I didn’t get sentenced to more jail time. And I feel guilty every day!”

  Hunter stopped pacing. “I could have helped you! But considering you don’t even trust me enough to share your life with me, I feel duped and angry.”

  “I never meant to make you feel that way,” I said, tears wet against my cheeks. “But think of how I feel. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! It was an accident. I swear, Hunter. I know it was selfish, but I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, like I’m a murderer.”