Bluegrass Blush

by Carolyn Bond

  She appeared in the doorway and held her head up. He looked up at her and, imperceptibly flinched. She could tell her strength surprised him. She was better than him and he knew it. He swallowed his insecurity and stood up.

  “My dear wife, let’s put a seal on the bargain, shall we.”

  He stepped closer to her and, for the first time, seemed unsure of what to do, hesitating at kissing her, he just reached for her hand.

  “Oh, bother!” he fussed and yanked her into the bedroom.

  Pushing her face down over the side of the tall bed, he lifted her skirt.

  ***

  Everleigh sat in the warm water of the tub and cried. Despite her stoic strength, alone in the claw foot tub, she broke down. Sobs wracked her. Disgust made her skin crawl. She couldn’t wash away the dirty feeling of him touching her.

  He had promptly left to visit an attorney to see to the inheritance. She hoped he was also doing whatever was needed to free her aunt.

  She squeezed her eyes shut wishing the world would go away. Maybe she could slide into the water and slip into some place between life and heaven and hide. The smell of lavender tickled her nose and she opened her eyes. Her magic soap lay on top of her stockings on the chair. The paper was rumpled now from being hidden in her clothes so long. The scent was oddly strong, like it was calling to her.

  Perhaps, she thought, that would be better. I could go back to 2016 and forget this nightmare. Everleigh’s aunt is safe now. She could go to her mother and curl up next to her on the couch. She would talk herself into believing none of it really happened. It was just a horrible nightmare.

  Malcolm’s face filled her mind. She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t be without him. Even violated, her body seemed to reach into the distance between them and tether her to him. She could feel him out there, breathing the air that the sky between them shared. Had it only been the night before that they were together. She imagined his arms around her now. She imagined him carrying her broken, naked body out of that hotel and daring anyone to stop him. She knew he could never find her there. No one even knew when or where she had gone.

  The loneliness held her and wracking sobs of grief mixed with cries of pain from her ribs. She curled up in a ball in the water, her head just out of the water and closed her eyes and wished for sleep to take her away. Sleep was the only escape.

  She cried until consciousness faded and woke in cold water shivering. At first confused, but then the crashing memories of the day tore at her again. She stepped out of the water and pulled a linen towel around her. She glanced at herself in the mirror and gawked. An angry purple bruise the size of a fist graced her porcelain skin under her left breast. Around that a deeper purple emanated about eight inches across that must have been from an internal bleed. She decided that now she needed to see a doctor.

  She pulled the linen towel around her and peeked through the door. Horace wasn’t there. She did see a plain dark dress across a chair. She wondered if the maid had left it for her knowing she had no other clothes to change in to. She snuck out and grabbed it and snuck back in the powder room. She pulled on her undergarments, leaving the corset as loose as she could and still get the dress around her waist. Scrunching them up into her hand, she pulled her stockings over her feet. Finally she pulled the dress over her head and let it settle around her. It was a bit big for her, thank goodness, and so she didn’t have to tighten the corset over the bruise. It was a very 19th century deep V design bodice with a high neck. That was fine with her. She wanted to hide her body from everyone as though it were an abused child she was protecting.

  She brushed out her hair and secured it into a tight bun. She had an overwhelming need to have every hair in a tight hold. After putting in the pins, she looked at herself. Dark circles had appeared under her eyes. Her soft blond hair was caught up in such a severe style, she hardly recognized herself. She stood and slipped on her muddy granny boots and laced them.

  In the sitting room of the suite, she found a table with a covered silver tray. Champagne sat unopened. She smirked at the absurdity. Apparently the hotel thought they would be celebrating. She pulled the cord to alert the maid and sat at the table.

  Lifting the silver cover, a wave of aroma assaulted her. Normally it would have been wonderful. She was torn between feeling nauseous and starving. She decided she needed to eat something to at least stay strong. She lifted some of the beef onto her plate and spooned some cooked carrots next to it. She found that as she nibbled, her appetite grew and she really enjoyed the comforting flavor. In a bread basket she found fluffy rolls dusted with flour and devoured two in a row.

  A knock came at the door and she called for them to come in. The maid popped through the door. It was the same young brunette that had brought the toiletries.

  “Yes, madam?”

  “I need to see a doctor. Is there one near that could see me?”

  The maid’s forehead furrowed and her mouth turned down. “Certainly. Doctor Baker is around the corner. I’ll send for him. Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?” She looked over the plate seeming satisfied that she’d eaten. “At least you have an appetite, then.”

  Everleigh’s old shame of loving food tried to nip at her but she stamped it out.

  “Yes, traveling and,” she paused, “and all.”

  The maid blushed assuming her meaning.

  “Oh, excuse me. No. Heavens! Just please have the doctor see me as soon as possible. Thank you.” She stammered. What could she say, she wondered? Of course, it would be what most would consider a honeymoon. A horrible honeymoon, nevertheless.

  As the maid was leaving, Horace came in. Her briefly looked at her and then went to the desk and pulled an envelope from his pocket. Sitting at the desk he turned to her.

  “All the papers have been filed. The inheritance has been transferred to our account in Charleston. The bank wired us funds to get home. I purchased our tickets for tomorrow’s train.”

  Her head started spinning. “Home? Train? Tomorrow?”

  He exhaled slowly. “This is how it will work. You and I will return to Charleston on tomorrow’s train. When we get there, I will see to that you are settled in your parent’s estate, which now belongs to me, and then I shall be living at your family’s beach cottage, which is also mine now.” He smirked. “I, frankly, could care less what you do with your time as long as you aren’t a bother.”

  She sat there speechless listening to his little monologue. When he finished, she pulled it all together in her head.

  “Ah, no! I’m not going back to Charleston.”

  He jerked his head back surprised. “Was I not clear this morning?” he said without taking his eyes off her. “I will not have any discussion about it.”

  “But I need my things in Versailles!” she was trying anything to stall him.

  “I’ll have them sent by freight.”

  “I am not going anywhere until I see a doctor. I certainly can’t travel until I’ve healed. If you are going to treat me so roughly, you will have to deal with the consequences of that.”

  “You’re very tiring, Everleigh. And I don’t remember you ever being so mouthy. Perhaps breaking a few bones was heavy handed. I’ll have to find more acceptable ways of training you to be a good wife. Perhaps a good rod.”

  She was so utterly shocked at the implication of his words that she honestly couldn’t breathe.

  Who did he think he was?

  “Come, come, Everleigh. Don’t be so shocked. Truly you act like your mother never told you anything about domestic life. It is perfectly within my right to beat my wife if it will help her.”

  She had never in her life imagined having such a bizarre conversation with a man. Was this really normal married life in the 19th century? Did men really lord themselves over their wives and families like they were cattle having trouble finding the gate to the barn yard?

  She shook off the fog that threatened to take her breath away.

  “My aunt,�
�� she started.

  “--is perfectly fine and on her way home as we speak,” he completed her sentence.

  She felt a wash of dizziness and the room spun for just a minute. She held onto the edge of the table. The food in her stomach lurched.

  “I don’t feel well.”

  He stood up and came closer. You do look pale. Perhaps I should call the doctor now.”

  “I already did. Would you help me to the couch?”

  “He took her by the arm and held her steady while she crossed to the velvet couch and laid her head back.”

  “You’d better put your feet up.” He picked up her feet and set them on the couch so she could lay back.

  She tried to focus on his face but the more she tried, the more the room spun, so she closed her eyes.

  “Maybe a cold compress will help. Good grief. What’s wrong with you now?”

  He disappeared into the bedroom and she heard him swishing a hand towel in the bath water. Then she felt it on her forehead. She wondered why no time seemed to go by between those two events.

  “Everleigh! Wake up!” Someone was yelling at her. She felt water on her cheek and then a slap that stung like the prickles of a thousand needles.

  Her eyes fluttered and she saw him over her with a stern look on his face. She tried to talk but couldn’t. She felt numb and cold all over. Her arms and legs felt like stones too heavy to pick up. Another slap stung the other side of her face as her head jerked the other way. She felt disjointed from her body, though.

  A man’s voice, not Horace, began talking, yelling. She felt her body being picked up and she crumpled against a strong chest and then darkness. Darkness and peace. She just wanted to fade into the sleep and let go. She was weightless, floating in the darkness and all the voices were a million miles away.

  ***

  With her eyes closed, she saw the light in the room flash like lightening. She thought it must still be storming. It kept going though. The light not so much flashed as fluttered against her eyelids. No sound came, no thunder, no pelting on the window. Curious, she fought back the fog and pulled herself out of the sea of darkness she had welled up from.

  She blinked and sucked in air. Turning toward the movement of light, she saw the sun shining through the dark green leaves of the maple tree outside her window. She was not in the hotel room. The walls were white and plain. The bed was small and a white sheet covered her up to her shoulders. A tall thin woman stood at a table next to the bed writing on a paper. Her hair was pulled up in an pretty auburn bun and her big brown eyes batted long black eyelashes. The woman turned and looked down at her with scrutinizing eyes.

  Then, suddenly smiling, she said, “Good afternoon, lady bird! Welcome back!”

  “What happened? Where am I?”

  “Sugar, you passed out from an internal hemorrhage two days ago and you were brought here, the Protestant Infirmary. Now don’t you fret. I can see you are a fine lady and you have a private room instead of being in the common ward. You’re too far from home to make the trip and recover there.”

  She thought about all that a minute. “The last thing I remember was being slapped.” She pulled her hand to her face to feel.

  “Uh huh. Your husband is being detained.” The nurse waited to see how she took that news. When she didn’t say anything, the nurse continued.

  “You had some significant internal injuries. Three broken ribs and one punctured a lung. Honestly, no one can figure out how you managed as well as you did.”

  Everleigh followed the nurse with her eyes. Apparently the nurse thought she was afraid of her husband because she leaned in and said, “Oh honey, it’s alright. He can’t get you here.”

  “On what charges is he being held?”

  The nurse paused, “I’m not sure it’s my place to tell.”

  “It’s my place to know. Please tell me.”

  The nurse sucked in a breath and snuck a peek toward the door.

  “From what I heard, when the doctor got there, they heard your husband yelling at you and slapping you. They came right in, afraid for you. When they got you here and examined you to see why you were unconscious, they found your injuries and reported them to the sheriff as signs of abuse. Your husband has been detained with charges of criminal wife abuse.”

  “Oh,” was all she said. This was better than she had hoped. She wouldn’t have to do anything.

  “It’s for the best, really. It would just get worse, you know?”

  “Oh, I’m not upset. He kidnapped me and forced me to marry him to get my inheritance. He said he was holding my aunt hostage. I couldn’t let him hurt her.”

  The nurse gasped and brought her hand in front of her mouth. “Oh my word! And here I thought you’d be mad at the sheriff. Believe me, I have seen women brush off some pretty bad treatment saying they loved him or they deserved it. It’s sad, really.” The nurse paused to assess her again.

  “Here. Have something to drink.” The nurse handed her a cup of water. “I need to get you some broth now that you are awake. Also, be careful moving around. You have some stitches in your side.”

  “Stitches?” Her eyes sprang open wide. The thought of a 19th century doctor cutting her open scared her to death. She wondered if he washed his hands or any of the instruments.

  The nurse smiled sweetly. She had a beautiful big smile that even shined through her eyes. “Ah, honey, you are fine now. Your wound is healing nicely. You were hemorrhaging and the doctor had to stop it. You had lost so much blood and it was pooling in your chest. Dr. Baker is really very talented. You’ll feel better in no time now.”

  Everleigh grimaced. “Does he wash his hands? Did they wash the instruments? I hate to ask, but I worry about cleanliness.”

  “Oh, shoot honey. Dr. Baker is just the same. I have never seen anything like him. He teaches all of us nurses how to care for patients using clean techniques.”

  “So the wound looks alright? No redness or drainage?” She sipped some water waiting for the nurse to answer

  “Oh my, you certainly do worry more than most. But don’t you worry, darlin’. You are healing fine. I just changed your dressing a few hours ago.”

  Everleigh felt her own forehead for signs of a fever.

  The nurse laughed at her, “And no, you have had no fever!”

  Everleigh blushed with embarrassment and took another sip of water. The nurse patted her leg and left. With the room quiet, her thoughts turned back to her present situation.

  So he is in jail. Bet he’s mad!

  She needed to see if her aunt was alright. With it being two days, surely her aunt would have made her way home by now. She wondered how she could send a message. She suddenly felt very isolated and stuck.

  The nurse brought her some warm chicken broth.

  “Nurse, I need to get a message to my aunt and my friend in Versailles. Is there a way to do that?”

  “Sure, honey, just write down a message and we can wire it.”

  “Oh, that is great. Thank you!”

  The nurse left again and she picked up a sheet of paper and pen that looked like an antique calligraphy pen on the bed side table. There was also a small jar of ink. She dipped the tip in the ink and scribbled out a note to Suzanne. She figured that was the best idea. Suzanne would know what to do. She wondered if Malcolm was worried. By now they all had to wonder what happened to her. She still really had no idea how long the doctor would make her stay there.

  She didn’t know much about recovery times in the 19th century but she figured it was much longer than modern medicine found to be necessary. She finished the note and laid it on the table. She felt around her middle to figure out how extensive the bandage was. It actually wound all the way around her. She figured they probably didn’t have adhesive tape either. The luxuries of the future floated through her mind.

  Her minded drifted to Malcolm. She missed him terribly. The memory of him kissing her, holding her in his arms made her stomach clench and a zing of joy caug
ht her breath. The feeling made her ache for him. She frowned as the feeling got mixed up with the memory of Horace and him violating her. Her head was a mess. She tried to block all thoughts and hum in her head. The thoughts still came. It seemed the harder she tried to clear her mind, the more stuck the thoughts became. She felt like screaming in her mind where no one would hear but it would block her thoughts.

  She needed a therapist. In 2016 she would have just seen a therapist and dealt with this trauma. She was certain there were no therapists in 1888 that had any idea what to do with her, at least if she didn’t want electric shock therapy or a lobotomy.

  ***

  He buried his head in his hands and tried to hold back the rage before it consumed him and everything around him. The warm breeze flitted at his brown waves. It was already approaching 86 degrees and it wasn’t even midday. Suzanne brought him some tea and sat down next to Edward. He glanced at the tea and grimaced at the steam wafting from it.

  All three of them leaned back in their seats with defeat.

  “Alright,” Edward started, “where did you last see their carriage?”

  “Right before Slickaway. The creek was flooding and my carriage got stuck. It took a bit to get it out of the creek without turning over. By the time I got on high ground, they were nowhere to be seen.”

  “She couldn’t have just disappeared,” Suzanne pleaded with no one in particular. “It’s been three days. They had to stay somewhere. Did you check the hotels?”

  “Yes, I checked several.”

  “Did you check the justice of the peace?” Edward asked.

  “”Yes.” His jaw tightened and he turned his body away from them. He was tired of their endless questions. He had gone up and down every reputable street in Lexington. Of course there could have been a hotel he missed. The town was too big to hit every one of them alone. Images of that scum Peeble terrorizing her slid through his head. He could feel his blood pressure mounting as each minute passed.