by Amy Cross
In fact, that is an understatement of the greatest magnitude.
When he finds that I have left Mr. Harcourt alone, Uncle John will no doubt see fit to punish me in his usual manner.
I glance over my shoulder, to make sure that Mr. Harcourt isn't following me, and then I make my way between the trees. I don't really know where I'm going, but I should like to get away from the house for a little while, at least until everything has died down and our visitor has left. I cannot prevent my punishment, but I can at least delay it for a few hours.
Sometimes, I think the whole world has gone quite mad.
Chapter Twelve
“Father's angry.”
Turning and looking back toward the trees, I see that somehow my cousin Matthew has found me. I'd hoped to be alone out here, at the edge of one of the meadows, but I should have learned some time ago that one can never truly be alone when one lives at Blackwych Grange. Somehow, one is always found. Matthew, in particular, always seems to know where I am to be found. It's as if he some kind of supernatural ability.
“You shouldn't have locked me in the wardrobe earlier while we were playing,” I tell him. “It was mean and dangerous.”
“I didn't lock you in the wardrobe.”
“Matthew -”
“I didn't,” he says again. “It must have been the...”
His voice trails off.
I open my mouth to tell him I know it was him, but I suppose there's no point arguing. At the same time, I'm aware that there are certain other possibilities, other presences that live with us at Blackwych Grange.
“Father's really angry,” he continues. “He's furious.”
“Because of Mr. Harcourt?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Who's Mr. Harcourt?”
“The elderly gentleman who visited earlier.”
“Oh.” He comes closer, trudging through the undergrowth. “The bald old man with the mustache?”
“That hardly distinguishes him,” I point out. “Most of the visitors to Blackwych Grange are bald old men with mustaches.”
“This one has a limp, too.”
I nod. “That's the gentleman in question. Although I use the word gentleman advisedly. In truth, he seemed quite strange to me, almost senile. Apparently he's rather important in the business world, though. He's someone your father desperately wants to impress.”
“Well,” Matthew continues, sitting next to me, “whatever he is, he left about half an hour ago, and now Father is fuming. He was storming about the house, demanding to know where he might find you. I've seen him mad before, but never with such force. I think you've really done it this time, Elizabeth.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I didn't know where to find you.”
I feel a shudder pass through my chest. “And how did he take that news?”
“He wasn't best pleased. He damn near seemed ready to tear the entire place apart. I think you're in for it when you get back. What did you do this time?”
“This time?”
“He's fuming!”
“He wanted me to entertain that old fool,” I reply, thinking back to the sight of Mr. Harcourt crawling across the drawing room. The memory is enough to make my skin crawl. “He wasn't specific, but it seems he wanted me to do something for the man. I suppose I was meant to work the rest out on my own, although I certainly can't imagine...”
I hesitate for a moment, remembering the hunger in the old man's eyes.
“Feed me,” he said over and over again, and his voice is still ringing in my head.
“Was he like Mr. Cole?” Matthew asks.
“No,” I reply immediately, shaking my head. “He was nothing like Mr. Cole.”
“So he didn't hurt you?”
I shake my head.
“But maybe he was going to,” he continues. “Is that why you ran? Were you scared that he'd be like Mr. Cole if you stayed? I'd be scared of anyone like that. Did you -”
“Enough!”
Getting to my feet, I take a step back. The mere mention of Mr. Cole is enough to unsettle me, and I swear I can feel the scars burning on my legs and belly. Sometimes, I wonder if I shall ever entirely heal.
“I told you to never mention that man's name again,” I remind him. “Why would you even...”
Sighing, I realize that there's no point trying to make him understand. Matthew is twelve years old and he clearly has no comprehension of how the world really works. I mean, I know that there are things I don't understand as well, but at least I've noticed the edge of darkness starting to creep into my consciousness, whereas for Matthew everything is simple and easy and painless. I wish he could stay like that forever, but I suppose that luxury is not extended to any of us.
“I think Father will give you lashes,” he says finally, using a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he continues to stare up at me. “Sorry, Elizabeth, but... That's what he usually does when he's unhappy, and he seems really unhappy right now. If I were you, I'd go straight back to the house and get it over with, else he might decide to give you even more. You know what he's like when he's furious.”
I shake my head.
“It's for the best,” he continues.
“No.”
“But -”
“I don't care,” I stammer. “I know he'll give me lashes, and I know I shall have to go back eventually, but I certainly don't need to hurry and prostrate myself before him like some obedient simpleton.”
“You don't want to be obedient?”
“No,” I reply with a shudder. “Not when your father is in one of his rages.”
Looking past him, toward the trees, I can just about make out a smudge on the horizon. Even out here at the edge of the meadow, I can see Blackwych Grange in the distance, and the house seems to overshadow the entire area for miles around. Sometimes I feel as if the house is even watching me, perhaps taunting me, and the thought of going back right now makes me feel sick to my stomach. Besides, something about the house always sets me on edge, and I feel I am never truly alone when I'm within its walls.
“I was thinking of going to the village,” I tell Matthew finally. “Just for a few hours.”
“Did Father give you permission?”
I shake my head.
“Elizabeth, you mustn't be -”
“I'm eighteen years old,” I reply, interrupting him, even though I know my age has precious little to do with the matter. “I rather think I should be allowed to spend the day as I please. And besides, how much trouble can I get into while I'm at the village?”
“Are you going to see that man again?”
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“Is he courting you?”
“Matthew...”
“You're only storing up punishment for yourself.”
“Tell your father that you haven't seen me,” I continue, taking another step back. “If he thinks you're in cahoots with me, you might join me bent over his desk tonight as he wields the cane. There's no need to get yourself into trouble, Matthew, so play dumb, alright? I know that kind of thing comes easily to you. If he thinks for one second that you've been colluding with me, he'll punish you just as much.”
He hesitates for a moment, before finally nodding.
“Can I come with you to the village?” he asks.
“Not this time.”
“But -”
“Not this time, Matthew!”
Again, he pauses. He seems disappointed. “Alright.”
I open my mouth to tell him that everything will be okay, but I can't quite get the words out. Perhaps because I don't really believe them, or perhaps because deep down I fear that Matthew has a great deal of his father in his soul, and that as he matures he might yet become a crueler and more vengeful individual. Either way, I mutter something about being home before dusk, and then I turn away, hurrying toward the distant village.
***
“No, he did!” I continu
e, unable to stifle a laugh as I continue the story. “Honestly, he was on all fours like... I don't know, like a baby!”
“And he told you he wanted to be fed?” Daniel replies, grinning at me.
“Can you imagine?” I ask. “It was the strangest thing I've ever seen, by far. I didn't know what to do, so I hopped out the window and came here.”
I pause, watching as he sets another piece of leather on the workbench. All the way here, I felt terribly disturbed and upset, but being around Daniel always settles my nerves. He has a way of making the world seem less awful somehow, although I worry sometimes that he might get sick of me if I come to see him too often.
“I hope you don't mind that I knocked on your door,” I say after a moment. “I know you're busy, and the last thing I want is to be a nuisance, but I didn't quite know where else to go. I suppose I wanted to find a friendly face for a few hours, before I have to go back to Blackwych Grange.”
He mutters something under his breath, but I can tell he's annoyed.
“Daniel?” I continue. “Would you rather I left you alone?”
“I don't want you to ever go,” he replies, glancing briefly at me with anger in his eyes. “Not to that godforsaken house. I want you to leave Blackwych Grange and your uncle far behind, and to never even think of them again.”
“That's hardly possible,” I tell him. “Uncle John is my guardian.”
“Exactly,” he continues, coming over to me and placing his hands on my arms. “He's your guardian, not your keeper. And certainly not your master. You're old enough to seek out a life for yourself, Elizabeth. You're eighteen, you no longer have to live perpetually under his thumb.” He pauses, watching me carefully, and I know full well what he's going to ask next. “Have you thought any more about what I said last -”
“I cannot.”
“But Elizabeth -”
“The idea is absurd,” I continue, glancing briefly at the door to make sure we're not being overheard, before turning back to him. “I cannot possibly run away with you, Daniel!”
“We wouldn't be running,” he replies. “We'd simply be leaving this godforsaken place.”
“We have no money!”
“I can establish myself!”
“I have no doubt, but that would take time.” I can see the frustration on his face, so I step closer and plant a brief kiss on his cheek. As I pull back, I see that he's blushing, and I make a mental note to never be so forward again. I mustn't let him think that I have weak morals. “I'm sorry,” I stammer, and now I'm blushing too. “Please, you must forgive me...”
“Elizabeth -”
“I should leave,” I continue, turning away before suddenly feeling his hand on my arm. I immediately flinch, shocked by his touch, but I don't pull back. I should, I know that, but instead I wait as he steps closer, and finally I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. I turn to him again. We're far too close, but I feel compelled to stay. Sometimes, I wish that we lived in a world where a man could sweep a woman up and carry her away from all her troubles.
“If I were to establish myself,” he says after a moment, “and really make my mark in the world... Would that be enough for you? Would you come with me, no matter where we had to go or how far we have to travel?”
I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out.
“I don't know what my uncle would think,” I tell him finally. “He's rather -”
“Let your uncle be damned!” he replies.
I gasp, shocked by his language.
“I'm sorry, but it's true,” he continues. “Your uncle might be a powerful man, Elizabeth, but his influence doesn't extend everywhere. Besides, sometimes I think he...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“I have been thinking of Bristol,” he explains. “There are chances there, Elizabeth. Chances for a man to make something of himself. The future is in a place like Bristol, not out here rotting in the countryside.”
“We cannot run away to Bristol,” I tell him.
“But I could go and get settled! It might seem extreme, but times are changing and we could strike out on our own. Your uncle would never give me permission to marry you, not in a million years, and I have accepted that. Still, his permission is not strictly required, and we could start our own lives.”
“I cannot go against his wishes,” I reply. “Daniel -”
“You can, Elizabeth! You can do anything! And I know you want to leave. Deep down, you want to be happy!”
I shake my head. Daniel is a romantic, but his fantasies are rooted in nothing more substantial than dreams and make-believe. If I were to go with him, I would end up destitute and ruined, and my dead parents would look down upon me and weep.
“Will you at least give me a chance?” he asks. “Believe in me, Elizabeth, and I shall not let you down!”
“I already believe in you, but -”
“Will you come with me? We could leave soon, perhaps even this week!”
Staring at him, I can tell that he's serious. For one brief moment, just a fraction of a second, I even consider accepting his crazy offer. Thankfully, sanity quickly prevails.
“I will not go with you,” I tell him. “Not now. It would be madness.”
He sighs.
“And you know that I'm right!” I continue. “I would end up having to crawl back to my uncle, begging for his forgiveness, and I honestly don't know if I could do such a thing. I would rather die.”
“Then...”
He pauses for a moment, eyeing me with a hint of concern.
“Then I shall go alone,” he says finally, “and I shall establish myself, and then I shall call for you.”
“Daniel...”
“Have faith,” he continues, with a growing sense of excitement in his voice. “It might take six months, even a year, perhaps longer, but eventually I'll be able to come and fetch you. I shall have to work every day, and I shall have to push for advancement, but I will let nothing stand in my way.” He reaches up and uses a finger to brush stray curls of hair from the side of my face. “If I had money, Elizabeth, and if I could offer you a future independent of your uncle, then would you come with me? Then would you be willing to throw off the shackles of Blackwych Grange and start a new life somewhere far from here?”
I want to tell him that he's dreaming, but I cannot bear to break his heart.
“I would,” I say with a faint smile, struggling to hold back tears. “If you could do all of that, then of course I would. But -”
“But nothing!” he continues, seemingly emboldened by my agreement. Stepping closer, he hugs me before I can stop him. “I won't let you down, Elizabeth. I swear, as God is my witness, that I shall take you away from this place!”
“I'm sure you will do your best,” I whisper, even though deep down I know that his chances are slim. In truth, my uncle is waiting for me back at the house, and soon I must return so that I can face my punishment. I fear that for the rest of my life, I shall be bound to that man. Perhaps even longer.
Chapter Thirteen
“Now get out of here!” Uncle John sneers, pushing me so hard that I stumble forward and almost fall. “I don't wish to see your miserable face again tonight!”
Gasping as I lean against the wall, I feel a set of sharp stinging pains running across my back. I can feel blood running down the flesh, too, but I don't dare reach around and run my fingers across the damage. Perhaps there will be scarring, perhaps not, but I brought this punishment upon myself and I know that I am entirely to blame. There are rules in this house, and whether I like them or not, I always know when I am pushing against them.
“Well?” he continues, his voice filled with spite and venom. “What are you waiting for, girl? Go!”
I try to steady myself for a moment, and then slowly I turn and look at Matthew. My cousin is cowering in the far corner, awaiting his turn.
“Don't make me tell you again,” Uncle John says firmly. “I'm sick of the sight of you, girl
. Your disrespect angered Mr. Harcourt, I was lucky I managed to talk him back around!”
“Please,” I gasp, “don't... I'm begging you, don't hurt Matthew.”
“He lied to me,” my uncle replies. “He told me he had no idea where to find you, yet subsequently he admitted that he'd spoken to you away from the house. For that, he deserves ten lashes.”
“No,” I continue, shaking my head. “Please, don't do that to him. If you must continue the punishment, then...”
I hesitate for a moment, barely able to get the words out. The thought of more pain is too much to bear, yet I also know that I can't leave my poor cousin to suffer like this. He's just a boy, and I worry that the more he suffers, the more likely he is to harden and become like his father. From that fate, above all others, he must be saved.
“Let me take his punishment,” I stammer. “Let me... The lashes you are going to give to him, give to me instead. It's my fault that he got into trouble.”
“You would do that for him?” my uncle asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice.
Still watching Matthew, I see that he's trembling with fear.
“Yes,” I continue. “Of course. I will take his lashes.”
I wait for Uncle John to reply, but when I look over at him I see nothing but amusement in his eyes. As more blood dribbles down my lacerated back, I wait for him to accept my offer, but after a moment he simply takes a step back. Even before he opens his mouth, I can tell that my plea has fallen on deaf ears.
“Matthew,” he says firmly, with his eyes still fixed on me. “Assume your position.”
“Let me take it for him,” I gasp. “Please, he's just a child, let -”
“I have made my decision,” Uncle John continues, interrupting me, “and Matthew will learn nothing if he is shown leniency. I must ensure that he never lies to me again, and this is the only way.”
