Teresa smiled. I could have sworn it was a victory smile. I knew, even if I did not want to admit it, her position in this household was secure—regardless of who grew inside of me. She knew it, too. She was the wife of the Count Basarab Musat. I was not. She would be his hostess tonight. The curious little fool locked in the tower, whose body was swollen with his child, would remain incarcerated, as though she were a fruit forbidden to be gazed upon. I experienced a twang of jealousy.
“Then, I trust you will oblige us and not cause any unnecessary scenes?” Teresa continued.
“Whatever makes you suppose I would do something as foolish as that, Teresa?” I answered, slyly. “I am quite content to be here. After all, you must remember, I am the one who carries the count’s child.” I drove my point home with what I felt to be a ruthless truth. “I would not think of doing something that would jeopardize our son!”
I had definitely succeeded in striking a tender nerve. Teresa flinched as though I had driven a stake into her heart. I noticed the anger flash through her dark eyes. She had come here to taunt me with her power and position. I had thrown it back in her face. I smiled sweetly.
“Just heed my warnings. You will be the loser, not I, should you attempt something foolish tonight!” Teresa retorted as she stormed out of the room. In her fury, she failed to lock my door!
What a break—I had certainly not anticipated this! I closed my eyes, clasped my hands together, and prayed that Teresa would not remember her carelessness and return to lock me in. I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I picked at my supper. I sipped my drink. Perhaps this would be the last one of its kind I would have to consume.
At the moment, time was on my side, but could I wait patiently for my juncture with freedom? Maybe I would not have to delay departure until the sun rose. Maybe I could slip out of my unlocked cell and sneak away during the festivities, disappearing into the night shadows and out of his clutches, forever!
As I waited, my impatience grew. Time passed too slowly. Finally, I detected a pale reflection of light through the curtains. This light could only mean one thing: the guests were arriving. I walked across the room, placed my ear to the crack in the door, and listened for the strangers’ entrance. I was rewarded, moments later, with the sound of voices. All were male voices, so far, and pleasant enough. The count’s accent, as he greeted his guests, was quite distinctive.
Then I heard Teresa greeting some women. I detected the names Mrs. Small and Mrs. Lawry. That meant that there must be at least two couples. The fact that there were women could improve my chances of escape—if I were caught, that is. Women would be more sympathetic, as long as they were not vampires. That was what I most dreaded. Thoughts of that aspect crept back into my mind, momentarily shattering the hope of my elusive freedom.
I continued listening as the guests entered. Smidgens of incomprehensible conversation, mixed with laughter, filtered up to my tower room. The count’s voice continued to ring out, like an imminent warning to me. He was power itself—above all others, his tone stood out. I dared myself to imagine how the other men compared to the count. I was filled with guilt, as my heart told me there would be no comparison.
He was the ultimate man, the total male. Once a woman had been consumed by his fire, she would be his forever. These thoughts were very real to me. They were also scary and rang too obviously true in my heart. Thank God, I still had some will left to fight the fantasies within my bosom! Hopefully, logic would be enough to propel me away from this place in the early light of the morning that would follow this night.
~
The night dragged on. I was restless. I was nervous. I paced. I listened. I paced some more. Would they never retire?
From what bits and pieces I could hear, it sounded as though these people had something to do with real estate. Was the count selling the property? Or was he buying another one, somewhere else? Maybe both. But why would he want to move if life was so good here? Or, was it? I should remember to ask Max—if I was still here in the morning. Of course, there was the possibility the count was preparing to move again, having been in Brantford long enough. Moving around was something he had mentioned he needed to do regularly before the locals questioned his failure to age.
I grew weary of eavesdropping and plunked myself in the armchair by my bed. I dared not lie down for fear I would sleep too deeply and miss my chance at freedom’s lure. Just a catnap would suffice, I thought as I shut my eyes for a moment’s respite.
I awoke with a start! I jumped from the chair, disregarding the sharp pain that knifed me in the abdomen. Despite my resolve not to, I had slept deeply. I prayed I was not too late. I prayed that everyone, the guests especially, were still cradled beneath their covers—or wherever. I prayed that Max slept—him most of all, because it was Max who always seemed to be there, lurking around some hidden corner. It was Max who seemed never to sleep. It was his detection I feared in the daylight hours, even though, as I mentioned earlier, I felt he might be easily overpowered if I caught him off-guard. Then again, if all the guests still slept, I would have no one to turn to for aid if things did not go as planned.
I prayed it was well before the hour when Max usually brought my breakfast. I walked over to the door. It swung open easily. Good! Teresa had not noticed her carelessness. I listened intently. The house was deadly silent. I crept out the door of my prison. My entire body trembled. I went quickly down the stairs. At the bottom, I considered which direction I should take. Would Max have locked all of the outer doors? I hoped not. My footsteps turned automatically toward the front foyer. I began to run, as fast as my swollen body would allow.
All was going well. Nothing but the sound of my slippers on the carpet disturbed the silence. I reached the front door. The knob turned easily, and I stepped out onto the large wooden veranda. The sun was just peeping over the horizon, sending slivers of light through the ever-guarding trees. I started to run, slowly at first, then picking up my pace as I proceeded across the lawn.
I dodged the statues and flower beds. I skirted around the bushes and entered the grove of ancient trees. I stopped and glanced back for a final look at the place that had been my prison for what seemed to have been an eternity. “I’ll expose you for what you have done to me,” I shook my fist defiantly at the house!
That was my fatal mistake. As freedom’s arms beckoned to me, I tripped over a large, protruding tree root. Darkness, once again, covered me with his veil.
~
When I came to, I was in my bed, the one in my prison. I began to weep. Max was sitting in the chair beside me, the same chair that I had rested in through the night. He studied me intently, and there was a worried look on his brow. He noted my waking.
“Foolish girl, Virginia. It was an imprudent thing you tried to do. I am at odds as to what I should do about this,” Max commented, shaking his head back and forth, as though he were trying to weigh the situation he was faced with.
I had to think quickly. “Who knows, besides you?” I asked softly. It would not do to anger Max under my present circumstances.
“No one.”
“Then all is safe, right? There is no need to tell him.” I prayed my nervousness did not show.
“No, I do not have to,” Max paused for a moment as a deep, wracking sigh shook his tired body. “But if the count were to find out—if anyone else were to have seen you and informed him of your attempt—” Max seemed too frightened to finish his statement.
I sat up in the bed, reached out, and grasped Max’s arm. “Please, Max, if not for my sake, think of the child. Think what his wrath could do to the baby still growing inside me. We cannot take such a risk at this stage of my pregnancy. Remember this child will be Teresa’s. She is unable to have one of her own. Don’t you want your daughter to experience motherhood?” I wondered if Max would buy into my plea. At this moment, it was my life I was concerned for.
Max rose from the chair. He gazed at me with a sad fa
ce, a face that was drawn and tired-looking. I wondered if he was growing weary of life with Count Basarab Musat, and if so, would he assist me in my flight to freedom?—after the child was born, of course.
“Okay, Virginia, for the sake of the child, I will say nothing.” He paused again. “But there is no guarantee that I will not reveal your attempted escape after the child is born.”
I swallowed nervously. “One more question, Max: How did you know I was gone? The house was silent, and I presumed you were sleeping along with the rest.”
“I was bringing you your drink before retiring for a few hours. I noticed your door open—”
I interrupted him. “Teresa forgot to lock it,” I mentioned, contempt creeping into my voice. I had to emphasize that point in order to ensure that Max would not expose my attempted escape to the count. If the count knew it was Teresa who had failed to lock the door, then her fate would be no less than mine; it might be worse—I was convinced of that fact.
“I see,” replied Max. “So that is how it was and is to be?” His face showed defeat. “Now to tell you how I detected you. When I found you were gone, I went to your window and peeled away some of the tape that was holding the curtains down. I saw you running across the lawn. It would have been fruitless for me to pursue; I would never have been able to catch you. For a moment, it appeared that you had finally made your escape, even though it would not have been for long. The count would have tracked you down and brought you back here to give birth to his son. After the birth, and when you were no longer needed, he would dispose of you. I think that, by now, you have realized you cannot hide from one such as him.
“But you foolishly looked back, tripped, and did not get up. I knew you must have been hurt. All that was left for me to do was to pick you up and carry you back here before anyone else detected your flight. It was difficult, because you are heavy with child, and a few times I almost stumbled. But the thought of my grandchild gave me added strength.”
“You could have left me to be found by someone else who might have been passing by,” I suggested.
“To have left you there for a passerby to find would have created a greater disaster for us all, should you have decided to mention certain aspects of our way of life here. On the other hand, had you gone unnoticed by outsiders, and the count had detected you, well, who is to say what would have happened then!” Max ended with a very thought-provoking possibility.
“I would not have said anything, to anyone,” I vowed.
“We cannot take that chance—the count will not take that chance.”
I knew I had lost. “Thank you, Max,” I whispered humbly. “Then this will be our little secret—yours and mine, right? It must be this way, for all our sakes,” I added as I ran my hands across my bulging abdomen.
“Yes, Miss Virginia, for now, for all our sakes,” Max replied, wearily. He handed me my drink before shuffling out of the room. He was the picture of a broken old man. His sagging shoulders told the tale of one who had witnessed many defeats and would probably witness many more before he passed from this world, if he ever did. Max’s existence was still a mystery to me, but one that I would not push to know, especially after he had told me it would not be healthy to have such knowledge.
I sipped slowly at my breakfast, and I pondered my situation. Where was God? Why had He forsaken me? Was it because I had given myself so wantonly to the count? Because I had not fought hard enough against his wiles? Why? I had touched and breathed freedom more than once but had always been stopped short and returned to the uncertain fate that awaited me. What had I done during my short life to deserve this ill fortune?
I slept once again, exhausted from my ordeal. I would see him later. We would debate. I would gaze upon his magnificence, and he would ease my pain. For this my heart longed. For this my body craved. Against this, my will still tried to fight—but in reality, it never tried hard enough!
Time Draws Near
Chapter Sixteen
It was near the end of my eighth month that my fears resurfaced, especially after a conversation I had with Teresa. She had never mentioned anything about my attempted escape, but it was quite obvious to me that Max had informed her of the episode. One evening Teresa presented me with some food for thought.
“It won’t be long now, Virginia—about four weeks?” she raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“Yes, I would say about that.” I hesitated a moment before asking the question that was bothering me. “There is one thing I have been wondering about, Teresa. Will there be a physician present when the baby is delivered?”
“Of sorts.”
“Just what do you mean by of sorts?” I felt the butterflies in my stomach again.
“What I mean is you will be well-looked after, dear Virginia. There is a family physician coming from Transylvania. He is quite versed in the birthing of a child.”
“Tell me honestly, Teresa, if you are able to, what is going to happen to me after I deliver this child?” I had finally summoned up the courage to ask the dreaded question.
“After you give birth, you will still be needed to nurse the child for a short time. Once he is weaned, the count will decree what your destiny shall be.”
“What if the child is a girl?” I asked.
“Pray to that God you worship that it is not, not only for the sake of the child, but especially for you!” Teresa’s words were harsh. “This child must be a son! The count demands that, and what he demands, he gets! If the child is a girl, I may be able to wield some influence and save its life, but as to your fate—I have no influence over that, nor do I actually have any desire to help you!”
There it was in black and white! I had known I could not depend on Teresa. She hated me so much that even if she could have swayed the count to let me go, she never would have. I tried to pretend I had not heard her last statement by striking back at her with some scientific, biological facts.
“But, Teresa, we have to face facts here; we are not dealing with demands. We are talking about biology, maybe something you have little knowledge of. There is a fifty-fifty chance I could have a girl.” I paused. “Besides, it is the male who decides a baby’s gender,” I added.
“You are correct in saying that I know nothing of this biology you are talking about. However, if you say that the male decides the gender of the child, then we are both correct. The count is a male, and as I already told you, it is the count who decides what the child will be. That is the extent of my knowledge,” Teresa retorted haughtily.
I laughed, inside, at the irony of the situation. The count was definitely a male, but what Teresa appeared not to understand was one of the finer points of biology. Sexual orientation was a matter of nature’s choice—not man’s or a creature’s.
I wondered about her education, but then it dawned on me that during her youth biology had probably not been studied extensively in the schools, unless a young man had been interested in a career in medicine. Girls would never be privy to such a subject. To my knowledge, Teresa had been under the count’s tutelage from an early age, so what she knew was only what he permitted her to know. She also did not appear to me to be the type who would seek out information beyond the count’s world. That was something Teresa had proven over and over again by choosing not to be around when the count and I had our conversations. She had attempted a couple of times but had not said a word. She had just sat there, her mood becoming more agitated as our discussion went on. Finally, she had just stood up and left.
I wished Count Atilla’s diary had continued so I could learn more of him, how he had educated himself so well, and how he had educated those of his household, including his son. I also wished the diary had gone on to give details of how Atilla had raised Basarab and what the count had been like as a child. Foolish me—why should I care? Hopefully I would be out of here soon and not have to worry about any of that.
Teresa continued, “As I warned you, dear Virginia, you should just pray, for your sake, that it i
s not a girl! Come now; we will be late for supper. And I know for sure that would not please the count. He is restless of late, and impatient, while awaiting the birth of his son.” Teresa emphasized the word son. “Also, the count is anxious for the arrival of our guests. It has been many years since he has seen some of them.”
“When will they be here?”
“Soon—within the next two weeks. Sometimes a child arrives early, as you with your vast education probably already know, so we must be prepared.” Did I detect bitterness in her voice when she alluded to my education?
“Prepared for what?” I inquired.
“For the ceremony.”
I wondered if this ceremony was a duplicate of the one referred to in the diary—the one the count Atilla had feared to reveal details of for fear that his diary would fall into the wrong hands. I was not sure if I was ready to hear the answer to that question, let alone be involved in it! Instead, I simply asked, “How many guests are we expecting?”
“Six.”
“Are they all ... uh?” The exact word escaped me.
Teresa smiled, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her elongated teeth. “Yes, they are. Let’s go now; we must hurry.”
I followed Teresa out of my room. She had rekindled my fears sufficiently that I was contemplating another escape attempt. I would have to execute that attempt before my child was born, because if the child was a girl, I had no idea what the count would do to her—or what he would do to me.
As we walked to the dining room, I wondered if there was anything for me to fear. Would I have any significant part in it,other than delivering the child,of course? What did the ceremony entail? What kind of doctor would be tending to my needs— surely not Count Balenti Danesti? Visions of vampires drinking blood all around me while I delivered the child, covered in my own blood, sprung up in my mind. Oh God! I had to escape! I had no other choice!
I felt secure that while the count seemed to have other things on his mind besides me he would never suspect I would attempt to flee again. We had shared so much, and I had become compliant. I was almost positive that he had no idea of my last escape attempt. I was almost equally sure the count felt I was completely under his control because he was still allowing me my evening walks on the widow’s walk. An image of the night we had made love in the garden flitted through my mind.
Night's Gift: Book One of the Night's Vampire Trilogy Page 17