Long, curly dark blonde hair; large, dark blue eyes; clear white skin like a china doll's; shell pink cupid's bow lips; delicate, straight nose; long, dark eyelashes. My face. My beautiful face. I hated it.
I sighed heavily giving one of the locks of hair that had spilled from my elaborate bun onto the nape of my neck one last curl before standing from my dressing table and picking up the powder blue dress from my bed and stepping into it. "Marie!" I called.
On my command the young girl - though she was older than me - pale eyed, mousy haired and slightly dumpy around the middle - emerged from the hallway. She stood behind me carefully buttoning up my silk dress over the painful corset she'd wrestled with half an hour ago.
"Well? How do I look?" I asked her, turning to face her.
She raked her eyes over me. "He's sure to propose, Miss." she told me glumly , confirming my worst fear.
"Oh Marie!" I sobbed dropping onto my bed, ignoring the pain my corset caused. "I don't want to marry him!" I told her, crying.
"Oh Miss!" Marie chastised, pulling a handkerchief from my bag and handing it to me.
I took it gratefully and wiped my eyes. "I suppose I won't be A.B. for much longer will I?" I laughed weakly, my voice burbling because of my crying.
"I doesn't matter who you marry, you'll still be Miss Adélaïde Beaumont to me!" Marie comforted, sitting down next to me and rubbing circles onto my back.
""I hope you're right." I muttered.
OoO
"So where were you yesterday Adèle?" Renaud asked offhandedly.
"Oh, I went to an art exhibition in the centre with Mr Pollet." I told him, sipping my tea. Renaud Fontaine had asked me around to his house that morning to take tea with him.
"Yes, that's what I heard. Why were you with him?" He asked putting his tea cup down a little too hard so it clattered loudly.
"I wanted to go to the art exhibition and I knew he would go with me?" I told him, my confusion making it come out as a question.
"No, Adèle. I meant why didn't you go with me!" He spat making me jump.
"You'd already said you were busy!" I gasped.
"Yes I was busy but that is no excuse to be frolicking about with other men!" He shouted the last part.
"I wasn't frolicking about! Mr Pollet is an old friend of mine! Besides, what is there to worry about? I'm your fiancée!" I told him.
"Yes you are my fiancée!" He stood up, paused and picked up his cup to drink the rest. "MINE!" He roared and threw the cup so it narrowly missed my head and shattered against the wall beside me.
I couldn't breathe. I had never seen him like this. I had always known he'd had a temper but I didn't think he'd resort to violence, against a woman of all people.
My silence only seemed to anger him further as he suddenly strode over to me shoving the table out of the way and grabbing the arm I had raised to protect myself. He dragged me over to the mirror hanging off the wall.
"There." He hissed. He'd grabbed hold of my hair and forced my head upwards, his other hand holding onto my shoulder, the arm wrapped around my neck. "Don't we make the perfect couple?" He laughed.
I looked at us, my chalky frightened face, eyes rimmed with tears and then his red angry face, black beetle like eyes gleaming humorously. "Don't we?" He asked angrily giving my head a shake using the fistful of hair he'd managed to grab. His breath was hot and wet in my ear.
"Yes." I managed to gasp out at last, hoping it was the right answer.
"Yes." he muttered before tossing me away making me stumble against the old dresser making a piece of Dresden china fall and smash on the floor. Renaud turned around and looked at me for a second, his eyes travelling from the china at my feet to my scared face. "Clumsy!" He muttered and strode over to me. "We can't have habits like that once we're married." He suddenly lashed out and smacked me sharply across the cheek.
He left quickly and when the door shut with a resounding thud all the strength from my knees seemed to vanish. I suddenly couldn't support my own weight and a slid down the wall to the ground my breaths ragged and turning to sobs.
My breath caught in my throat when my mother walked in - the day's chaperone. Her face was cold as always but I could see a tightness in her lips and a tension in her stance. "Stop crying Adèle. We need the brute's money if I have any hope of being happy. Now get up and wipe that blood off your face!" She hissed as she marched out of the door.
I rose to my feet shakily, my hand reaching to touch the cheek Renaud had slapped. I winced when they made contact and when I pulled my hand away I could see my own scarlet blood on my fingers. I felt sick.
OoO
My hands were shaking almost too much to take my dress off the night after my eighteenth birthday. My heart was beating too fast, pounding against my ribcage and my stomach was churning making me feel like I'd vomit at any moment.
"Hurry up Adèle!" I sharp voice sounded from the other side of the door. The night after my eighteenth birthday; my wedding night. I choked back my tears and walked on unsteady legs to the door that separated our rooms. Opening the door I found Renaud waiting just outside in nothing but his underpants.
He followed me closely as I walked over to the bed and waited for him. Being fifteen years older than me I knew there was no way Renaud was a virgin, not like me, so I waited for him to tell me what to do.
He rolled his eyes then lifted my by the elbow and knee and quite literally threw me onto the bed. I didn't even have time to pull my arm out from underneath my back before he was on me, pressing me into the mattress.
He held me in place with a hand against my neck as he ripped the front of my nightgown open so that he could get full access to my chest. His mouth was too hot and his teeth bit too hard. Renaud must have taken my gasps of pain and fear to be those of pleasure as he laughed and started to grind himself into me.
He was too heavy for me and the hand around my neck was stopping me being able to breathe. "Please…" I gasped, wanting him to stop. Apparently this was the wrong thing to say.
He froze on top of me. "As you wish!" He laughed before leaning back so that he was straddling me, allowing me to finally pull my arm from the awkward angle behind me where I knew it would break had it remained. My eyes widened and my breathing picked up when he pulled down his underpants and hiked up my gown grabbing me roughly by the thighs and pulling me towards him with a grip I knew would bruise.
He forced his way into me causing a sharp and burning pain in my area. He didn't allow the pain to subside before he was slamming into me with a force I didn't think could be safe. He tilted his head backwards, a low keening moan coming from his mouth. His hands moved to my hips where he grabbed hold of them and started to move them to match his rhythm. His moans got louder until they could be better described as shouts.
I wasn't enjoying myself like he was. The pain in my lower abdomen was slowly subsiding but the pleasure to be had from intercourse was only just starting to build whereas Renaud's seemed to be peaking. His movements became more erratic and faster, luckily for me I was able to appreciate it more as my body became accustomed to his presence. My moans soon stopped being because of pain and started to become because of pleasure.
Apparently Renaud seemed to sense this as when his eyes rolled back into his head and his body juddered and spasmed, a loud bellow echoing around the dimly lit room he only stopped for a few seconds to catch his breath before starting again. "So you got the same." He whispered in my ear a few minutes later when we lay hot and sweaty in our consecrated marital bed.
OoO
I hummed softly as I traced patterns on my swollen stomach. The doctor said it would only be a matter of weeks until the baby arrived - perhaps only a fortnight! I couldn't wait until I could see my child, such a precious little thing. The only thing that was troubling me was Renaud.
He'd been wonderful since we had found out I was excepting. I wanted for nothing as he made sure I was always comfortable, well rested and happy. I was concerned that after the baby was born he was going to go back to his old ways of violence. Worse still, what if the baby was a girl? Renaud was desperate for a son and I was eager to give him one if it kept him happy and quiet but I doubted I had as much control over the sex of the baby as Renaud thought I did.
There were other things worrying me though. Renaud had been looking stressed recently and despite it being winter the fires had not been lit very often, he instead told me to put more blankets on my bed and put an extra shawl on. While my gifts remained steady I saw how the meat we ate was of lesser quality and how he himself would forgo a new suit. Money.
Renaud had been drinking. It had started on the evening I told him I was pregnant, he'd telegrammed his friends and they'd all gone out for a 'celebration'. Though I had only been married to Renaud for little over a year and known him for little over five I knew that when he started drinking he started gambling. My guess was he'd gambled a little too much. My father always said 'if you can't afford to lose it you can't afford to gamble it.' I always thought it was a shame he couldn't do what my mother always said of 'practice what you preach' - no, he gambled away all of our money then hanged himself off the hatstand.
"What are you doing up?" Renaud asked from the doorway, his face hidden in the shadows.
"Oh! I didn't see you there!" I gasped. "I couldn't sleep. He's kicking!" I told him.
"Well, you should tell him to settle down." He advised sternly though I could hear the smile in his voice.
I began to get up but with my heavily pregnant body it was more difficult than I'd thought. Renaud lurched forwards to grab my arm to help me up, throwing his face into the light. He let go abruptly when I gasped.
"Renaud what-?" I didn't get chance to ask him just how he had managed to get a split lip and a black eye because he had turned stiffly and marched from the room. I hastened to follow.
"Renaud? What happened?" I asked as I followed him upstairs.
"Nothing, Adèle!" He insisted. He stopped at the top of the stairs leaving me on the second to top step.
"Renaud, please, you can tell me!" I implored reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. He suddenly whirled around making me lose my balance as my arm dropped suddenly, that coupled with the natural instinct to step back at his upraised hand - which I only realised was comfort me when it was too late - made for an impossible situation.
Suddenly I was falling, I felt slightly weightless as I fell backwards down the stairs, however just before my head could hit the stone steps Renaud reached out to grab my outstretched hand. Though it helped keep my head safe it made me twist and then my pregnant tummy hit the steps instead. I screamed partly in pain, partly in fear and partly in grief for the baby as I knew it would be a miracle for it to survive.
And then I couldn't stop screaming, blood was soaking through my dress, my stomach was cramping, my vision was blurring, I could hear Renaud shouting, shouting for a doctor, shouting for Marie, shouting for me to listen to him, to focus. I could hear Marie, dear Marie who'd given up her family back in the centre Paris to come and live with me in the countryside a few miles away, who'd been with me through everything, who made it all better. She couldn't make this better. My screams became more hysterical at the thought.
There was a pressure at my legs, the blood coming quicker and darker. Suddenly something was being pressed to my face, a rag, and everything went dark.
OoO
It felt like a dream. A horrible confusing nightmare of a dream. I hurt everywhere and I was so cold. Turning my head to the side hurt my neck and I couldn't help the gasp it caused, even that hurt, the air scratching down my raw throat. Renaud was there. He was leaning against the wall unshaved and still bruised from his blatant fight the night before. Maybe it was the loan sharks part of my brain whispered, it had always been this way, sometimes answers would just come to me though it was usually like I was then, tired and confused.
He straightened up when he saw I was awake. He walked over slowly then kneeled down at the side of my bed and took my hand in his. It was only when it sat next to his that I saw just how pale it was, like chalk.
I opened my mouth to ask where the baby was but all that came out was a garbled mess. "Don't try and talk yet, sweetheart, we'll have plenty of time to talk when you're better." He whispered pressing my hand to his split lip, a tear running down his face.
I jumped when I felt something icy against my forehead. I turned slowly and saw Marie sat on the side of my bed, sponging water from my basin onto my head. She was crying too. The baby must have died. I tried to sit up but the strain had my head spinning and when I dropped back onto the pillows the world returned to black.
When I awoke again Renaud was there still though it looked like he had changed and shaved and if I wasn't mistaken the swelling on his eye had gone down and his face looked less bruised and beaten - it must have been a few days since I last woke up.
We sat in silence for a little while before an idea came to me. "I want to go swimming. I always used to when I was little and felt poorly. Father said it 'blew the cobwebs off'. Can I go swimming Renaud?" I asked him, my voice weak but understandable.
No, Adèle, my sweet. It's too cold and you're still too poorly, you wouldn't be able to keep yourself afloat. Maybe when you're better we can blow the cobwebs off." He whispered back, moving some wet hair from my eyes - strange, Marie wasn't sponging my head anymore, why was my hair wet?
I couldn't get the idea out of my head though. "I won't get better though, will I?" my mouth seemed to move without my accord.
Renaud blinked and swallowed hard. "Of course you will Adèle!" He whispered hoarsely.
I shook my head. I wanted to go swimming. I couldn't remember wanting anything this much before in my life. I needed to go swimming. That night when Renaud had gone to sleep and the house was quiet I lifted the covers from my shaking body. I couldn't believe it when I felt even colder. Reaching down to the pan of fire embers at the foot of my bed I felt it was freezing cold, so much so it hurt, though when I lifted my hand up it was red and blistering like it had been burnt. Strange.
I could barely stand my legs were weak and shaking though there was none of the pain I was expecting there to be. I only managed to make it outside by supporting myself on doors and dressers. Being outside, the cold wind slapping my face seemed to rejuvenate me. I could walk by myself, besides I'd get to swim!
I slowly hobbled my way from the house out towards where I knew there was a small river by the woods that I could swim in. I sighed in happiness when I reached the edge of it. I laughed happily when I dipped my hand in. A prickling on the back of my neck made me look around and in the light of the moon I could faintly see the silhouette of a person by the edge of the woods. They moved backwards slightly, as though to hide themselves from me but the moon caught where I assumed this person's face was and it seemed to shine for a second.
I shook off the squirm of nerves in the pit of my stomach and shifted so that my legs were dangling in the water, just deep enough so that I wouldn't be able to stand in it. With a happy sigh I allowed myself to slide in the water. The second the freezing water touched my face I seemed to come back to reality. The current was too strong for me and I was too weak like Renaud had warned.
I kicked with all my might but I still wouldn't resurface. I felt a pang of guilt. Poor Renaud who'd changed so much over our short marriage would loosed his child and his wife in quick succession. He would know what had happened. He would awake to see the front door open and see the frozen footprints in the shallow snow leading to the lake where they stopped.
My lungs were burning, I needed to breathe and even though I wanted to at that point just to stop the pain I couldn't, it was like I had no control. Just when I thought my lungs would explode my mouth finally opened and a swarm of water entered it. The pain stopped and in a way it was peaceful.
A swarm of bubbles made me look up absently, a figure was coming towards me, it was no use I couldn't be saved. In the back of my mind I recognised the figure as the English Dr Cullen, the man who had pressed the rag of chloroform to my face the night my child died. If felt him grab my face and then wrap his arms around me almost as if he was going to hug me until I died. My vision had gone completely black and the roaring had subsided from my ears.
I was quite relaxed until a horrific fire erupted in my neck.
So this is a slightly revised version of a story I published before but wasn't happy with, I've made some slight changes and this is now the prologue rather than the first chapter. Thank you! Also, please drop a review - I had 30 visits on the first chapter of my other story and not one review.