by Vi Carter
Hannah does and she exhales like she’s relieved it’s really me. Her eyes narrow.
“Why are your eyes bloodshot? You look like you were crying?”
I laugh. “Always jumping to the worst.” That isn’t true about her at all. She always seems to know. “I got shampoo in my eyes.”
“You were gone a long time.”
I’m very aware of my nakedness, Hannah clearly isn’t since she sits on the toilet seat like she’s settling in for a chat. “I took a long walk.”
“Where?” She isn’t believing me.
“Can I finish my shower?”
She gets up. “Of course. I’ll wait in the bedroom.”
Once Hannah leaves I stand under the spray of the water and try to wash the horrible feeling from my skin. My mind skips to Lucas and I allow it to settle there. To settle on his touch, on what we did. His torn up hands flash in my mind and I push it aside and picture his face, how he had looked when I’d touched him. That’s the image I cling to when I turn off the shower and wrap myself in a towel. I tell myself that I’ll be fine. Meeting my eyes in the mirror, I smile.
“You’ll be fine.” I whisper. But my reflection doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
LUCAS
The tux I put on I hate. It’s a reminder of every party I have been forced to. Each part I’ve had to play. I normally can, but this time it feels different. It feels like a betrayal to Ella.
I don’t want to step outside my bedroom in case Ella sees me. I can’t stand to see any more pain in her eyes. I tighten my fists. Inside the gloves are clammy and each cut burns. It’s a perfect distraction.
The hall where the balls are normally held has been transformed. Sandra rises from the lone round table that sits in the center of the room, it’s surrounded in a circle of candles. No doubt my father’s doing. Sandra rises when she sees me. I tighten my fists again. I don’t look to George who pulls out my chair for me.
“Master Lucas.” Sandra bobs her blond head. The yellow ball dress is over the top and I want to turn on my heel. But my father’s wrath no doubt would be unleashed on Ella.
I shut everything off, something that I am grateful for now. I never thought I would appreciate one of my father’s lessons.
“Lady Crowley,” I greet her.
“Please, call me Sandra.”
I smile. “You look lovely, Sandra.”
She doesn’t smile, her eyes narrow. Lovely isn’t what she is going for. I sit and so does she. George pushes her in first before assisting me and the date begins.
“I hope you like my dress,” Sandra says while George fills up our wine glasses.
“It’s very pretty, Sandra.”
“I thought it would be more than pretty, Master Lucas. It is after all your favorite color.”
I hate that color.
I force a smile. “Of course, yellow is very striking.”
She frowns. “I had thought it perfect for my bridesmaids.”
I sip the wine. “There is really no need to rush.”
Sandra purses her lips and glances to George. “Could we have some privacy?”
George nods and leaves.
“I’m not sure if your father has explained to you how this goes, Lucas.”
Her tone and demur has changed completely. I can see why my father picked her.
“We will get married.” She picks up her wineglass and takes a sip before pulling a face. “My father has invested a lot into this marriage and I intend to make sure he gets his money’s worth.” She smiles at me now, like a doting wife.
“So why don’t we start again.” She picks up a little silver bell beside her plate and rings it. George reappears. That is new. I glance at George to see what he makes of being called like a dog. His face gives nothing away.
“We will both have the chicken, minimal sauces.” She glances at me with a smile. “I’m watching my figure for my wedding.”
The silver knife on the table is polished and sharp. How long would it take for her to bleed out on the table if I stuck it in her neck? “There is no need to watch your figure, you're perfect.” I smile.
She raises her head in victory. Like it took her two sentences to put me in my place.
“Oh, and take this wine away, I want something older.” She shrugs her shoulders. This time George looks at me and I give him a nod, to do as she says, for now.
My hands are clenched through most of this and I feel liquid in my gloves. I relax them, while placing them on my lap. The temptation to hurt her is starting to overwhelm me.
“I’m not exactly happy with all the décor, I have been snooping around the house.” She shrugs again with a self-assured smile on her face. “Some of it is so out-dated. Who was the most recent designer?” She sips the wine that she had George take away and her face twists again.
“My mother,” I tell her. I don’t think, I can’t.
“Well, it needs a woman’s touch.”
George returns and maybe it’s a good thing he does. The chicken dishes are set in front of us and he waits outside the circle of candles. Sandra moves most of her food around the plate, making it look like she’s eating. I don’t even pretend and she doesn’t notice. She talks about our wedding and the house.
“The attic area is nice, but we need to do something with it.”
That gets my attention. “You have been in the attic?”
She tries to look shy, but she can’t pull it off. I wonder if she’s even a virgin, there is nothing innocent about her. Sandra is sharp and cunning. She could have her results fixed if she wanted to. Money could buy you a ticket to the top table.
“No, one of my friends volunteered to go up and report to me on the décor.”
Volunteered. Forced would be more accurate. The meal drags, she talks, and I laugh and smile when appropriate. George serves dessert and I know I’m close to the finish line. I have thought of burning her with the candles, from stabbing her or just gagging her with a napkin so she would shut up. I’ve kept myself entertained.
I push in my dessert after a moment and place my napkin on the bowl beside it, ready to end this. Sandra’s eyes snap to my bowl and she stands.
“Well, I will wish you a good night, Master Lucas. I am very tired and will end this wonderful night.”
I don’t stop my grin as I rise. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
She steps around the table, her eyes downcast, trying to look coy. When she reaches me, she looks at me from under her lashes. She’s waiting.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?” She raises both brows now.
“I think we should stick to tradition and wait until our wedding.” The lie is delivered easily.
She frowns. “I think a kiss is allowed.”
“I’m a stickler for tradition. Goodnight, Miss Crowley.”
Her eyes spark, and I see her peeking at me with all her cunning and sharpness. She curtseys. “Master Lucas.” Her steps are filled with a purpose.
I stand for a moment and George starts to clear the table. “Can I get you anything else, Master Lucas?”
I exhale as I flex my hands. “Yes you can, George.”
He looks at me with tired eyes. “Get rid of that bell.”
His smile is quick; his eyes don’t look so heavy. “With pleasure.”
I touch his shoulder gently before leaving the room.
My hands are soaked in blood. I bathe them before wrapping them in white bandages. I think of Ella, holding them carefully in the white towel. She was so gentle, so caring.
Guilt churns in my stomach and I push it down. I change out of the tux and into black trousers and a shirt before finding a new pair of gloves. It’s hard getting my hands into them with the bandages, but I wrapped them light enough that I do manage. The pain has me biting the inside of my jaw as I leave my room.
My father is in my study when I enter. He’s sitting behind my desk. “I thought you would be here sooner,
since your date ended over an hour ago.”
I close the door behind me. “I was changing.”
“Sandra isn’t very happy.”
I glance at my father now and can’t hide my disgust. “I don’t care.”
He’s standing, his hands curling into fists as he leans on my desk. “You should. She’s worth a small fortune. The merger of our families will strengthen us. Don’t be foolish son.” He pushes off the desk and moves towards me.
“This is what you were born for. To rule. You can’t rule with softness. You must do so with an iron fist.” He clenches his fist.
His eyes are wide and driven with hunger for more power. Looking at him, I used to think I was just like him but I’m not.
His face softens as he reaches me. “I know you are angry, son.” He smiles. “You have a weakness just like me for pretty things, so I have come to a solution for you.”
He pats my shoulder hard before stepping away from me and back to the desk. My muscles are taut since I entered the room.
“A solution?”
Pride sparks from his eyes. “Yes, with Ella.”
My hands tighten, I hate him even saying her name.
“You can have her.”
Everything starts to unravel with hope, with confusion and fear. Is he lying, trying to trick me? My heart pounds.
“I don’t have to marry Sandra?” I hate how hopeful I sound.
My father's laughter is cruel as he throws his head back. I have to wait for him to stop and when he does, it is an abrupt stop, as he pulls the chair in close to the desk.
“You will marry Sandra, but you can keep Ella here as well. I’m sure we can all come to some arrangement. Just publicly Ella is not to ever come to light.”
I hear my father's words, but they sound far off. “Like a mistress?” My tone is flat.
“You don’t have to label it son.”
I feel sick. I move towards the desk. “Like an affair. Wouldn’t she lose a wedding finger?”
My father's eyes cut to the bookshelf. “If I knew you wouldn’t appreciate my offer, I wouldn’t have made it.”
“Sorcha Newtown, was she your plaything?”
He taps his fingers on the desk and glances up at me. “Yes.” I didn’t think he would admit it.
“But don’t be foolish like me son, I got caught.”
My stomach turns again. “What about mother?”
“She was angry, but she got over it.”
I tighten my fists at how dismissive he is about my mother. “Did you lock her away so she couldn’t tell people?” Blood roars to life in my ears.
“Don’t be daft.” My father stands, his eyes narrowing.
“Am I really being daft? Or are you worse than I could have possibly ever imagined?”
“Your mother is locked away because she is a danger. She tried to kill your brother.” He sounds so calm.
“Why, because he tried to kill me?” The past was rearing its ugly head.
“Don’t start licking old wounds. Children playing in a garden, they get lost. It happens.” He waves it off like it’s nonsense
“He wasn’t a child.”
“Are you still going on about that?” His smile is cruel and I shut down, trying to remove myself from this conversation.
“How did Sorcha die?”
His smile turns into a warning glare. “Your mother killed her.”
I’m nodding. “Yeah, because she’s a crazy killer.”
I see a crack in my father’s armor, it’s brief but I see it as he lowers his shoulders. “My affair resulted in Henry.” His words are low, but I hear them.
“Your mother was enraged, we couldn’t have a child, we had tried for so many years.” There is something vulnerable in my father right now, like he’s speaking about someone else and not himself. Like he pities these people.
“So when she found out about Sorcha, it drove her mad.” His eyes meet mine now. “She killed Sorcha and I covered it up.”
I feel sick. I move back towards the bookshelves to give myself something to lean against. “You mean you drove her mad.” I correct him and he ignores me.
“She cut off Sorcha’s finger and hid it. It’s something we have never been able to find.”
How did it end up in Henry’s possession? It is his real mother's finger. Did he know that?
“Does Henry know?”
My father shakes his head. “No.”
My father looks at me for a long time. “When you were born it was like I got my wife back, she was happy, happy with her precious son. So when Henry did…” He waves his hand in the air before placing it back in his pants pockets. “What he did, she snapped, and I had no choice but to have her locked up.” He pauses before speaking again. “Now you know.”
“Did you kill Declan?”
“No.” I had no reason to doubt my father, but that didn’t mean I should believe him either.
“But he was having an affair with someone since his finger was cut off.”
My father looks at me and I try to keep my own truths in about what I know.
“I don’t know who he was having an affair with,” he answers.
“So someone is collecting fingers.” I state. I had both, both found in Henry’s possession. Both people connected to him.
“The past won’t change the present or the future. I would prefer you focused on strengthening your upcoming marriage to Sandra.” My father fixes the cuffs of his shirt. “That is why I am here.”
He looks up at me, any earlier vulnerability gone. “I have decided on your punishment.”
I nod, actually glad that I will find out what it is.
“The final ball is in two nights.” My stomach rolls, but I don’t react.
“You will kiss Sandra in front of everyone.”
“No,” I say immediately.
My father gives me a bloodthirsty smile and it makes me nervous. “Yes, you will. It’s a kiss that will free Ella from my grasp and also give Sandra the validation she requires.”
“This is Sandra’s idea?” She must have run to my father after the meal.
“You refused to kiss her, so she wants it publicly now. She has power and she knows how to use it.”
“No,” I say again, but I can already feel the defeat.
“That is fine, son.” My father steps closer to me.
“I have been understanding, I have given you a choice. To keep Ella safe, you must give one kiss.” He holds up his hand. “If you can’t, that is fine.” He turns, ending our conversation and my heart pounds. It’s not fine, it means Ella is there for the taking. He would hurt her and hurt her badly. Maybe worse than before at my disobedience.
It is a kiss.
One kiss.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
My father has his back to me and pauses at the door. “I know.” His answer sounds like he’s smiling as he leaves my study.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ELLA
“I think I know where Vicky is.” I admit and both Hannah and Jessie drop the books they are reading. My room has turned into our hangout spot. Hannah is curled up in the window seat while Jessie has made a bed on the floor. I’ve been lying on my bed watching the open door, waiting for Sandra to return from her date with Lucas. My stomach curls now as I think about her huge display before she left. She was in a ball gown. She wasn’t getting a simple picnic in the garden, she was getting a sit down meal with Lucas. I felt sick.
“Where?” Hannah’s legs drop off the chair as she faces me.
“Remember earlier when you arrived and I was in the shower?”
Hannah is nodding eagerly. “I knew it.” She stands and looks at Jessie. “I told you, every time she leaves something happens.” Her eyes are impossibly wide. “You are never leaving us again. I don’t care Ella, wherever you go, we do too.”
Jessie doesn’t back Hannah up, instead she rolls her eyes at me and I suppress a smile.
“Isn’t that right, Jessie?�
�
“Yes, Hannah.” Jessie sings and Hannah takes her word for it while climbing onto my bed.
“Tell us what happened.” Jessie joins us on the bed.
“When I went for my walk, I came across sheds out in the back.”
Hannah is shaking her head. “I knew you were gone far too long.”
“Would you let her finish her story?” Jessie nudges Hannah, who looks ready to pass out.
“I was snooping and got caught by Master Andrew. I tried to leave, but he insisted that I finish what I started. He was trying to prove a point. So he brought me down into a basement under the shed.”
Hannah pales further and now I’m questioning if I should tell them. “There were loads of doors and one of them had blood going to it. Fresh blood.”
Hannah inhales sharply.
“The room he showed me had a pig in it, but it was hung up and cleaned out. So I know that the blood wasn’t from the pig.”
“Did you check?” Jessie asks and it’s like she’s holding her breath.
I shake my head. “I was afraid and he was still there. But something felt so off about it all.” I don’t mention Lucas. I can’t involve him in this.
We all sit in silence for a moment.
“We have to rescue her.” Hannah nods while looking from me to Jessie to see if we agree.
I shiver at the thought of going back down but If Vicky is down there, we need to find out.
“I agree,” I say.
Commotion in the hallway has the three of us scrambling off the bed.
Sandra has returned from her date. Her cheeks flushed. Her hair looks tussled. She’s talking to Bernie and Mary, but her words are loud enough for everyone to hear her.
“He is…” She fans herself. “Very, how can I put it? He struggled to control himself.”
More giggles.
“From running away?” Jessie says under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear. Sandra spins around, her eyes pinning me in place. Hers shine with victory and my stomach tightens. She turns to Jessie.
“Not running away, Jessie. But that’s cute.” She sounds like it's anything but cute. “I was referring to him trying to keep away from me.” She touches her tussled hair.