by Anna Edwards
“My life changed today. I don’t know if it’ll be for the better or worse yet. All I know is that it has changed.
I was brought to Oakfield Hall to be entered into a contest to become the wife of Henry Cavendish. My father had told me it would happen when I turned twenty-one, but that doesn’t make it any easier, leaving everything I know behind. This place is full of men. I don’t see any women except for six other terrified girls like myself. The current Duchess of Oakfield keeps to herself and looks so sad.
There’s something malevolent lurking beneath the surface here as well. I was branded. That doesn’t seem normal, but in this place I don’t know what is right or wrong anymore.”
I wince at the thought of my mother being permanently scarred in the same way as the girls. She was my mother and shouldn’t have been treated that way. Now, I'm just being ridiculous. I come from a long line of women who were chosen in the same way. I flick through a few pages.
“We had a horrible task today. I can’t even write about it. It broke me. I’m not that person. I don’t do these things. Why have I been put in this position?”
I turn more pages, unable to read about the tasks my mother had to endure.
“Henry Cavendish made his decision today. He chose me. The other girls were taken away, and I heard their screams most of the night as the other men in the society took turns with them. I feel so guilty. Why did he decide on me? I’m nothing special. We're to be married tomorrow. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. Henry isn’t a nice man. He takes delight in what he’s done to us. He isn’t a man with humanity or kindness in his heart. God, give me strength. I never thought that this would be the life of a Duchess.”
I slam the book shut and heave. My hands are shaking. Is this the type of man I am? Is this what Victoria, Elizabeth, and Amelia think of me? I turn and walk away from the diary. I can’t read anymore. I have to do this — I don't have a choice. A few more weeks and this part will be over. I force an exasperated breath from my lips. One more passage, I tell myself. One more passage. Going back to my mother’s journal, I open a page toward the end.
“They took my son from me today. My husband blames me for him not being perfect, but in my eyes he’s everything. I have nothing left. This will be my last entry. I can’t do it anymore. He’ll come to me tonight and beat me black and blue. He’ll force himself on me, and my body will die just as my mind did all those years ago. Goodbye, Katherine Cavendish, Duchess of Oakfield.”
There are no further entries in the diary. I look at the date written at the top of the page, but I already know in my heart what it will be. It’s the date of my mother’s death. I close the book again and put it back in the drawer. One day, when this is all over, I’ll read it again, but now her words will weaken me, and I can’t allow that to happen. I need to be strong to be the man that my father wants me to be. Maybe, when I’m Duke, I can work on changing the rules, but for the time being, there’s nothing that can be done. Victoria Hamilton may think that I’m a coward, but she doesn’t understand anything. She’s lived in a bubble, not the real world. It’s do or die out there, and I have no plans on dying just yet.
My mother’s words haunt me though,
“They took my son from me.”
I wish she were talking about me in that statement, but she isn’t. No, I have a brother. I’ve never understood why people call him wrong. He’s just William to me. I think he's just what I need. I stumble down the corridor, again in the dark, toward his room. It's as far away from my father’s as possible. The Duke has nothing to do with William, unless it’s vital. I unlock the door and enter without knocking. I know he’ll be awake. He likes to watch the stars.
“Hi, Bro.” I swagger in and hold my arms open.
“Out!” he shouts back from his vantage point next to his telescope at the window.
“Why?” I ask in confusion.
“You didn’t knock.” He frowns.
“Do I really need to do that?”
He flicks his hand across his head, around his nose, and taps his foot twice. I can see he’s getting agitated. William was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum at a young age. In fact, the day my mother died. Most people think of a person with autism as having social inadequacies and learning disabilities, but William’s nothing like that. He's incredibly intelligent, far superior to me. He has his quirks — like the fact, he’s looking at me as though I’ve grown three heads because I didn’t knock on his door before entering. But other than that, he’s perfectly normal. Any social inadequacies are more likely to come from the fact that, since his diagnosis, my father has hidden him away in this room with only a governess for company most of the time. I think that would make it hard for anyone to interact the way that society decrees.
“I’m sorry.” I hold my hands up and step back toward the door. “I’ll come in again.”
“Three knocks.” His brows furrow together in anguish.
“Three knocks. I promise.”
I leave the room again and shut the door. This time before entering I knock three times and open. William’s smiling this time, and the anxiety of before is gone. Such a simple thing can agitate him so much. I feel guilty for upsetting him.
“Sorry,” I offer.
“It’s ok. His Grace came here earlier, and he always refuses to knock. I was scared it was him again.”
“What did he want?” I hate the thought of my father upsetting William. He’s two years younger than me, and I care a great deal for him.
“To tell me to make sure I’m quiet while we have guests. He doesn’t want them finding out about me. I embarrass him.” William sits down on a sofa. “I think Bertha told him I was playing my guitar earlier.”
I sit next to him and place my arm around him.
“If you want to play your guitar, then play it. You’re good at it. You could be in a band. Ignore Bertha and the Duke. They’ve got no taste.” Bertha is my brother’s governess. He doesn’t need her — he’s twenty-six for god’s sake, but my father insists. She’s William’s jailer. The first thing I’ll do when I’m Duke is get rid of her and allow William to see the world. He’s been cooped up in this house since he was three. I hate it.
“I shouldn’t. The girls may hear me.”
“They’re my girls, not father’s. I’m not ashamed of you like he is.”
William looks down at his hands. He taps one, his left on his leg three times and then the right three times. His autism is focused very much around routine. It comforts him.
“I’m not, William, I promise. When I’m Duke, everything will change. Father will leave for the country, and we can rule together. Brothers side by side.”
“What about your wife?” he asks.
I go quiet.
“This doesn’t have to be your legacy, you know.” William offers with optimism in his voice. “Your succession could be different.”
“Not you as well. It can’t — I have to go through with this.”
“Not necessarily.”
“To try to end this madness would assign far too many people to death. You and the girls downstairs included.
I kick my shoes off and push back on his sofa, my head resting on the duck down cushion.
“I may not be seen, Nicholas, but I do a lot of seeing. She’s strong enough.”
What?” I rub my hands over my eyes. Now that I’ve laid my head down, my eyes are tired. The alcohol and the emotions are draining the strength from me.
“I may not remember Mother, but she was weak. Victoria isn’t”
“What has Victoria got to do with this?” My eyes drift shut. I’m trying to listen to him, but it’s becoming a struggle. William has always been a comfort blanket to me. We’ve snuck into each other's room since we were little. Thankfully, Bertha and our father only caught us a few times.
“You have goodness in you. You aren’t the devil Father wants you to portray.”
I yawn.
“I think you’re
deliberately trying to confuse me. With all that ‘seeing’ you're doing, you must know I’ve drunk a lot of brandy.”
I fall asleep to William laughing at me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VICTORIA
“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Victoria?” Nicholas stands before me. He's naked, but I can’t make out the lower half of his body. It's hazy. That seems so strange.
“I can’t,” I whisper back.
“Do you want me to touch you here?”
He touches my breasts, and I let out a moan.
“Maybe here.”
He dips his finger into my mouth, and I wrap my tongue around it.
“No. Definitely here.” I feel my pussy start to throb.
“Please,” I whimper. “More.”
“You like that.” That arrogant grin crosses his lips. I want to smack him in his face, but he touches me down there again, and I buck off the bed.
“Fuck!” I squirm under his touch. “Take me. Make me yours.”
“Who am I to disappoint, my little Duchess?”
CRASH!
I sit bolt upright in my bed. My breathing is fast, and the ache between my legs has my hand fly there to touch myself in the hope of relief. It’s then I notice the human-shaped shadow moving in my room.
“Nicholas?” I pray it’s no one else. The person’s physique is the same stature as my captor. “Is that you?”
“Sorry.” A deep voice rumbles. Then the intruder pulls at something by the wall, which reveals a secret door through which he disappears. I rub my eyes. Was I dreaming that as well as Nicholas about to take my virginity? My hand is still between my thighs, and I’m wet there. That part was a dream. I think I’m going to suppress the dream because otherwise it will freak me out. The more pressing matter is the man who was in my room and where he’s gone? I turn my bedside lamp on and swing my legs out of the bed. I put on slippers and pull a lightweight robe over my shoulders. It’s summer, but there’s a little chill in the air tonight. There always seems to be in these big houses. Nothing looks out of the norm in my bedroom. Well, except for the mirror that I stare into daily, wondering how this has become my life. It’s slightly ajar from the wall. I pull it, and a doorway opens. A secret passageway. My heart flutters with excitement. Maybe, this is a way out. The person, whoever he was, was showing me how to escape. I look around for anything I can use to light my way. I’d do anything to be back in my bedroom at home, right now. I have a love of candles. Then again, I wouldn’t need this secret tunnel if I were at home. I can’t waste any more time and decide that I’ll just have to enter it in the dark. I pick a couple of books up and wedge them against the door, to keep it open and offer a little light. Especially when I turn on the overhead light in my room to add illumination. I peek inside the doorway. Spider webs are everywhere. My stomach churns. I’m such a wimp when it comes to those little creatures with eight legs. Big girl pants time, spiders can do a lot less damage to me now than the other occupants of Oakfield Hall. I step inside the dark stone corridor. Oakfield Hall is a brick mansion, and this hidden chamber must have been built within the walls. I chuckle as I imagine the clandestine liaisons that they may have been used for in the past. I look to my left, and it’s boarded up, so I can’t go that way. Right it is. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure that I can hear it vibrating off the walls. I hear a noise up ahead and quicken my pace a little. There is no light. I’m terrified, especially when I bump into some stairs and only just manage to keep my footing. I bend low to the floor and trace them up in a crouching position. I have no idea what I’m touching, and I really don’t want to know. I get to the top of the steps and look around. It’s still pitch black. Surely, to get out of this place I would need to go down, not up. I’m not going to take any chances with my footing again, for fear of tumbling downstairs, I keep low and crawl along the floor. Up ahead, I see a flicker of light. Is this where the person who was in my room has gone? Maybe they’re waiting to free me? I scamper forward quickly, on all fours, then stop and listen at the doorway where the light is.
“Silly, silly. You shouldn’t have left the room.” I hear from the other side.
I push the door slowly. It creaks open and sitting there is a man. I recognize his features, instantly. They’re the same as the ones I was just dreaming of, but younger and paler. Nicholas must have a brother.
The man swipes his hand across his head, around his nose, and taps the floor twice with his foot.
“Hello,” I say quietly.
He looks up at me with fear in his eyes.
“You can’t be here.”
“You were in my room?”
“Yes.” He does his strange movement again. It seems to be some sort of tic.
“Why? Who are you?”
“You must go back.” He scrambles a little farther away.
“I won’t hurt you. I just want to know who you are?”
I slide my body out of the secret passageway and step into the room. It’s opulently decorated like a sitting room. A television sits in the corner with a games console attached to it, and a table is laid ready for breakfast. I went upstairs in the tunnel — I must’ve come to the second floor. There’s a door to the other end of the room, and I wonder where that leads.
“You have to knock before you come in.”
“Knock?” I enquire in confusion.
“Please, do it four times.”
The man’s strange behavior is getting worse. The agitation in his stance flooding the room with more fear than I have. I don’t know why, but I go back to the doorway and knock four times.
“Come in,” he calls quietly. “Thank you.” He places both his hands down on his thighs and starts to tap a two beat on each leg alternately.
“Hello, I’m Victoria.”
“I know. I’ve read your file.” He leans over to the side and picks up a wrapped gift. “I was bringing you this, but you moved the chair. I crashed into it and knocked the vase over. You shouldn’t move furniture. It makes it more difficult to understand.”
“I’m sorry.” I find myself apologizing again. “I’ll put it all back. Can I ask who you are?”
“I’m William, Nicholas’ brother.” He doesn’t meet my gaze but hands me the present. “Open it.”
“I…” I’m lost for words. “You didn’t have to get me this.”
“I want you to like me — when you become Duchess.”
His blunt verbiage is surprising in this house of lies.
“I don’t think I’ll become Duchess but thank you anyway.”
“You should have more faith in yourself.” He waves the gift insistently in front of me. I take it and unwrap it. It’s a book on art.
“You didn’t have to get me this.” I reach forward and try to touch his hand in thanks, but he pulls it away.
“I’ve seen you read all the other books. This is the third one in the collection about Rembrandt. You spent a lot of time on those books.”
“You’ve been watching me?” I shuffle farther away from him. I don’t like the fact that he’s been invading my private space.
“We can watch all the girls via the screens.” He nods toward his TV. I must pale or look like I’m going to throw up, which I certainly feel could happen, because he gasps. “That’s one of those things that I’m not supposed to say out loud, isn’t it?”
“It’s a little scary to know that people are watching me.” I raise my eyebrows. “Why aren’t you supposed to say it out loud?”
“I have autism. I often say things I shouldn’t. I can’t help it. When I first saw you on the screen, I told Nicholas that you had the best tits I’ve ever seen.”
I must blush because he groans.
“See. I really can’t help it.”
“That’s ok — it’s nice to be appreciated.” I laugh and this seems to relax William, a little, as he settles down. “Why haven’t you been with your brother and father when they’ve been...um?”
“Torturing
you?” he offers.
“Pretty much.”
“My father doesn’t allow me out with his society. He’s embarrassed by me. I’m the reason my mother died, because I was wrong. It’s better if I just hide out up here.”
“That isn’t right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’m used to it. Safer to be in these four walls than out there.” He looks toward the door — a means of escape. I take a sharp inhalation of breath. This could be my chance.
“You don’t want to go through there.” He taps my leg.
“Why?”
As if by magic, the door opens and a sleepy looking Nicholas stands in the opening.
“What the fuck!” He exclaims and stomps toward me. “What the hell are you doing in here?” He grabs me and pulls me to my feet like I’m a rag doll.
“Get off me,” I shout and attempt to kick out. I just miss his leg.