The Beast at the Door
Page 1
The Beast at the Door
Althea Blue
Supposed Crimes LLC, Matthews, North Carolina
All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2016 Althea Blue
Published in the United States
ISBN: 978-1-938108-14-3
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To my author friends who showed me that real people can actually do this.
Chapter One
“I will not!”
The obstinate expression on the girl’s face suggested that she wanted to stamp her foot for emphasis, and only decorum kept her from doing so. Though her posture was perfect, and her clothes impeccable, her demeanor did nothing to conceal the utter horror she felt when she contemplated what her parents had just commanded.
Her mother and father sat before her on chairs as disparate as their appearances. The man, older, balding and running heavily to paunch, sprawled in a large over-stuffed wing-back chair with a thick cushion barely visible beneath his bulk, his legs propped on a matching ottoman casually placed. The woman, more perfectly dressed and complexioned even than her daughter, perched decorously on a hard wooden chair with no padding at all. She wore shades of beige, each layer tailored perfectly to her waspishly-corseted figure, a long string of precisely matched pearls hung around her neck and many diamond rings adorned her elegant fingers, held still and centered on her lap.
The girl resembled her mother closely, pale skin and dark blonde hair tied neatly in a chignon. Her own attire, a light green dress fastened with tiny bone buttons up the back, neatly-shined boots and no visible jewelry, were as simple as fashion allowed, but were elegantly cut and fitted exactly for her frame. Together they presented an imposing picture of a family, and any onlooker would be easily able to place them in the rankings of class that were so important to those from the upper echelons. The girl’s expression was the only thing marring the potential family portrait.
“I have made my decision,” the man spoke firmly, holding no doubt that he would be obeyed. “The plans will be announced at dinner tonight. You are to smile and be gracious and I will not have any more declarations of disobedience. Do you understand me?”
“And do have Jones assist you into a different dress. That one is far too informal for our guests,” her mother added. “We can’t have you looking like you just came in from working in the garden.”
Involuntarily, Patience glanced down at her immaculate dress, but forced her gaze back to her mother’s face. Her own expression now registered betrayal. “But why would you agree without even mentioning it to me? Do my feelings not matter at all? We are talking about my entire life, and I feel I should have some say in my future.”
Florence’s face didn’t shift, but her eye twitched and she nearly looked to her husband for support before taking a deep breath. “Gabriel is an excellent match. He is considered a prime prospect. The Longbranch family has wealth far beyond anything we may imagine; they have more servants than we have rooms. And you cannot deny that he is an attractive young man. I have heard other girls whispering to each other at balls and banquets. We would never choose a husband we did not think you would find acceptable. He is well-groomed and will likely grow into his father’s role at the bank once he has proven his training.” Florence didn’t meet her daughter’s eyes.
Patience looked to her father to see what he would say. He always spoke last, and his word was always law. That was a family rule. One she’d recognized even before she could speak herself. If she could change his mind, it wouldn’t matter what her mother said.
“Please Father. I am not ready to be married. I've just turned eighteen and there are so many things I hope to do before I become a wife. I want to see the Louvre, and the Champs-Elysees and tour the ruins in Italy. Some young ladies of my acquaintance plan to travel with their chaperones this summer. I wish to go with them and learn something of the world. That will make me a better wife and hostess. Could this not wait a year or two? Then I will marry whoever you choose without question.” Patience didn’t really mean the last part, but she thought it sounded good. Sometimes a bargain interested her father, as it did many investors.
His face darkened though, and he looked stonily at her. “You will marry whomever I choose at the time I choose it. And that time is now. You will be married in spring. If you wish to travel to the continent on your honeymoon, you can propose the suggestion to Gabriel. He has asked for your hand and I have accepted on your behalf. There will be no more discussion.”
Patience made her last-ditch attempt, though she knew it could backfire. “Could we not just wait a little longer? Just to see if Mason returns?” She knew bringing up her lost brother was risky, and that it might be inopportune, but she desperately wished for him at that moment. They hadn’t heard anything of him for over a year. Technically they should be wearing mourning and she oughtn't to be able to marry at all, but the war department had not officially declared him dead so it was her father's choice. If he elected not to mourn his oldest son because he was still hoping the boy was alive, Patience had seen no sign of it. They had never gotten along.
If Mason was there, he would never let his baby sister be married off against her will. Not to the likes of Gabriel Longbranch, the biggest bully they'd known in childhood and completely unimproved by achieving adulthood. He was attractive. And clever as well. He likely would succeed his father as Canterbury's most successful head banker, in time. But he was cruel and used his cleverness as a weapon against those with fewer resources or whom he disliked on a whim. He would do anything to get himself ahead. Patience had heard rumors about the way Gabriel achieved his first place position at Eton, by hiring someone to beat his biggest competition the day before they sat their exams. Gabriel won first place and the other boy had won a broken leg, three broken ribs and a variety of other complaints. No one could prove that Gabriel had orchestrated the altercation, but he wore a smug smile whenever someone mentioned poor Paul Regent, and he never denied it when a schoolmate accused him. And now Patience was to spend her life with this man? It was impossible. Her eyes pleaded with her father, but his face turned red, then purple and he abruptly rose to his feet.
“You will go to your room this instant. You will wait there until you are sent for, at which point you will descend to the dining room to smile and agree with anything suggested to you. You will not speak until spoken to, and then you will keep your answers short. You will smile at Gabriel when I make the announcement to the guests. After dinner you will say goodnight, and then you will return to your room where you will spend the next several days contemplating your duty to your family. If you are well-behaved at dinner tonight, food will be brought to you in your room. If you make any fuss you will be sent to bed immediately like the spoilt child you are and everyone in the dining hall will know that you are too willful to be allowed into polite company. If that happens, I can promise you that the next time you will be seen outside your room will be at your wedding. Do you understand everything I have said?” Her father glared at her with an unyielding expression that Patience recognized to mean a complete lack of exaggeration.
Patience met his gaze and glared right back at him. Then she spun on her heel and marched out of the parlour and up the stairs, shaking with fury.
“I will send Jones up in an hour to help you dress,” her mother called out as she left the room.
Patience didn’t bother to reply.
Chapter Two
Her face blank as Jones dressed her like a child’s china doll, Patience tried desperately to th
ink of a way out of her imminent betrothal. She refused to cry in front of Jones or the company she could hear arriving downstairs. Her mind spun as she considered anything that might change her father’s mind, though she knew it was most likely already too late. If he’d promised her to Gabriel, he wouldn’t be talked out of it, but if there was anything she could say to bribe or blackmail him it would have to be before he made the announcement to the guests. He would never lose face in front of important people. Patience knew her father cared about his reputation far more than he cared about her happiness.
She was the problem child, the youngest of four. Her two older sisters had both married well and moved to different parts of England. As far as Patience knew they had been given their choice of husbands, but maybe that was just the way it appeared, she couldn't be sure. They were far more biddable than she had ever been; just exactly the proper sort of girls that her parents wanted. They excelled at needlework and pouring tea, and dressed to perfection. Glory was a talented amateur pianist, though her two children now kept her too busy to play. Rose was always perfectly attired; dressing her had been one of their mother’s greatest joys. Unlike the other children Patience knew, Rose never had a smudge of dirt on her face, a tear in her stocking, had never even lost a ribbon from her perfectly curled hair.
And then came Patience. Willful from birth, she was smarter by far than her sisters. She resented being stuffed into the restrictive clothing that her sisters seemed to cherish, and had, on more than one occasion, stolen into her brother’s room and dressed herself in his outgrown clothes. When she was five she had hacked all her hair off with a knife, because she thought she might want to go to sea and she knew girls couldn't do so. She loved adventure stories and those about pirates and even the history books her brother’s tutors forced upon him. Mason and Patience were co-conspirators, he would leave books where she could find them and then cause a distraction so she could have an uninterrupted hour to read or study. In exchange, she helped him prepare for the periodic quizzes his tutors gave and even rewrote some of his essays in her much neater handwriting so he wouldn’t have to copy them out himself. The seven years between them didn’t mean much, as Patience learned much earlier than he to write clearly and with a better hand.
When Mason left to go to Eton, Patience lost her one ally in the house. Her sisters were two of a kind, and though they were never cruel to her, she didn’t have any interest in taking part in their games or talking about eligible gentlemen. Her father was distant and harsh and her mother couldn’t figure out where she went wrong with Patience, who never exemplified femininity the way her mother and sisters did. The servants were probably the closest thing she had to friends at home, but though the cook could be counted on for an extra tart or cup of soup when she’d been sent to her room, they hadn't the power to do more without upsetting their employer.
Patience had felt desperately alone since Mason left, and that feeling had only intensified since he joined the British army at the beginning of the Boer conflict. She knew he had enlisted to spite their father, who was waiting for Mason to join him in the investment house. Mason’s own talents ran more to creating objects and studying up on new inventions. He wanted to understand everything, and his father wanted to understand nothing more than how to make money. They were like oil and water. Patience had faithfully written to Mason every week, and continued to do so, even though it had been many months since she had received a response. She refused to give up, though. Her immediate fantasy was of him turning up at the door below and saving her from her father’s schemes by paying for her to attend London University. Having him home would make all the difference to her; if anyone would stand up to their father on her behalf, it was him.
A sharp rap on her door brought Patience back to the present. She nodded at Jones, who opened the door to the butler, Grayson. “Your father requests your presence downstairs,” Grayson informed her with a stiff little bow. He turned to go without waiting for a response.
Patience looked at herself in the mirror. Jones had pinned her hair up into an artful style, and had added a broach to her neckline without her noticing. She nodded in thanks as she noticed that the broach was her only jewelry. The servants had heard more than one argument between Patience and her mother over what Patience considered gaudiness and her mother considered a necessity to be seen in public. Though Patience owned a small casket of jewels she preferred to leave it all in the box and go out with bare neck and fingers. She didn’t like the weight or the coldness that jewelry added to her dress, and the simple styles she preferred looked wrong with anything garish to augment them.
She turned to leave her room and was stopped by Jones’ whispered reminder to smile. Patience plastered a smile that felt as fake as the two-headed calf she’d once seen when Mason had taken her to a circus. He had paid for her to go on the carousel and took her into the side-show out of his own pocket-money because she’d wanted to see it so badly. She’d loved the carousel but the side show had offended her ten-year-old sensibilities as, she had asserted, anyone with eyes could see that most of the attractions were sewn together, and badly at that. Mason had laughed and bought her popcorn instead.
Jones regarded her attempt with a shake of her head. “Better not smile,” she suggested. “Maybe just try not to look so miserable.”
Patience shrugged, a very unladylike gesture according to her mother. “I cannot,” she stated, turning at the doorway to descend the staircase. I will attend this dinner as I have no choice, but I cannot look happy about it, she told herself as she hesitated at the first step. Then she remembered what her father had said. He really would starve her for days if she didn’t at least pretend to accede to his wishes. She gathered up every ounce of willpower she had and tried to force a realistic-looking smile onto her face.
As she reached the landing her mother looked her over carefully and nodded once. Patience let out a small sigh. If it was enough to make her mother happy, it would have to do. She accepted a glass of wine from the footman and pretended to take a sip. She didn’t really care for wine, but having a glass in hand was a useful foil. If she needed to think about an answer, she could take a sip and it would give her a few seconds. She’d learned that trick from Mason, who hated high-society gatherings even more passionately than Patience. She wished she was still young enough to only suffer through introductions before being sent up to the nursery to have her dinner. Both Glory and Rose had begged to be able to attend the adult dinners from a very young age. Patience was glad not to have to, but when she turned sixteen, she suddenly found that she no longer had the option to hide upstairs. She was expected to help hostess and entertain. Especially once her sisters were married and away from home. Mason could come and go as he liked but Patience was expected to always be available, beautiful, and silent except as necessity demanded. She hated every moment.
She headed for her favorite corner, where she might stand and be sometimes overlooked, but her father pointedly caught her eye and indicated that she should approach him. Suppressing a sigh, Patience turned in his direction and noticed who he was standing with.
“Good evening Mr. Longbranch, Gabriel,” she murmured. “Father,” she added as an afterthought.
“How wonderful to see you looking so well.” Mr. Longbranch announced loudly. “And how excited you must be.”
Patience tried to make her smile wider. “Yes sir,” she answered. Usually that was enough to satisfy his type. As long as she agreed with him, he would be happy.
Gabriel moved to stand very close to her, so their arms were touching. “How lovely you are, Patience.” He smiled, oily charm leaking from every exposed pore. “I’m so terribly glad you accepted my offer.”
Patience looked around the room. Had they announced the engagement already? But no one else was looking at her, and there was no one close enough to hear. She tried to inch away from Gabriel but he followed her and there was nothing she could do to escape his touch short of fleeing outright.
She nodded whenever he paused for a breath and that seemed to be all he cared about. Her father and Mr. Longbranch wandered elsewhere and her untouched wine glass remained clenched in her hand. For however long it took for Grayson to announce dinner, Gabriel never asked her a single question or paused for her to share an opinion. Patience wondered how long he could talk without taking a break, and decided that he should have been a politician instead of a banker, as he seemed so impressed by the sound of his own voice.
Gabriel took her arm as they approached the dinner table. Of course, he was seated beside her, with her mother on the other side – probably to make sure that Patience didn’t say an inappropriate word. She needn’t have worried, Patience had no intention of saying anything at all. She wondered if she could make it through the entire dinner without anyone noticing that she didn’t speak.
As servants brought around dish after dish, Patience shook her head, refusing most of them. She accepted soup, but barely tasted it, and the roast duck lay untouched on her plate, although it was usually one of her favorite foods.
“And we can summer in Brighton, I have an uncle with a house on the beach.” Gabriel continued describing their future together, not noticing that Patience wasn’t listening to a word he said.