Summary: Erik had come to accept that his life would always be one lead in solitude. He had managed to piece his heart back together after Christine's departure. Now when his life had some peace his little songbird had come back, not to him as a lover but to ask a favor.
Birds of a Feather
Chapter One
Mistress of Murder
Beatrice hunkered down in the hall closet under the stairway. Perhaps if luck were with her he would not find her. Her face along with every other part of her body felt ill-used. She ran her hand over the swelling of her eye and cheek. She felt an all too familiar stickiness come away with her fingers.
From past experience Beatrice knew she would be a mass of bruises, cuts and sore muscles by morning. The staff would look the other way as she hobbled to the breakfast table. At least that would be how her morning started if she could indeed still walk the next morning.
Many was the time she had not been able to move from whatever place Lawrence left her once he tired himself out hitting her with his fist or whatever weapon came to hand.
Dear God how much longer can I endure this? Will he not one day kill me when his rage went beyond his control? Not that he made any effort to curtail the violence he used to cow Beatrice. So far he had been able to stop his violence before he went too far.
It had not always been like this. In the beginning when Raoul and her father pressured her into marrying this charming young English gentleman she had been flattered by his interest. Raoul had gone to school with Lawrence and had spoken highly of him. She had thought at last things would work out for her.
With no dowry to speak of but a mortgaged to the hilt estate that would be hers upon her father's passing, Beatrice had very few men coming to court her. The estate had been buried under a heavy debt for years and growing deeper with each subsequent year. Fast approaching the age where the opportunity of marriage would pass her by, Armand Montclair urged his daughter to marry with all due haste.
Twenty and three was long in the tooth by most standards. If wealth or family did not stand by a woman getting on in age she had little choice other than to marry or tie herself to servitude.
Armand had borrowed from Raoul for years to maintain the estate. Raoul being the good soul he was had never made any demands for repayment but it had become a source of taunting barbs from ladies during afternoon teas or get-togethers where Beatrice had to sit and listen to every young debutante tout on and on about their respective beaus. All of Beatrice's supposed close friends had come out when Beatrice had all those years ago. All were married or affianced leaving poor Beatrice the target for anyone who had a trying day to alleviate their stress.
They were sure to let Beatrice know almost to the penny the worth of their intended. When asked what prospect she had Beatrice used her father's ill health as an excuse not to have married. Everyone knew the truth of the matter but let her get by with the little subterfuge unless they felt the need for sport. It gave them something to gossip about later when Beatrice would not be present in any case.
In the beginning Lawrence had only had moments when he shouted at her while calling her vile names. He always came round the next morning with flowers and candy or some trinket.
His excuse for his anger had been problems with the family business. That had progressed to shoving then slapping. He was always so sorry and apologetic the very next day. All would be well for a short time until the next thing did not go as Lawrence thought it should.
He had promised a gullible Beatrice that he would curb his temper. He even kept his promise for the remainder of their courtship. Only later had Beatrice learned of the prostitutes who took the brunt of Lawrence's anger in her stead.
Raoul had brought Christine back home last Christmas.
Beatrice had met and liked the very young girl. She had looked so lovely and seemed quite innocent for a woman who lived and worked in the opera house. Lawrence had spoken ill of her behind Raoul's back. He all but intimated the girl to be a whore. Beatrice earned a good set down from Lawrence when she defended Christine.
Having learned Lawrence had faulty judgment Beatrice would not think unkindly of Christine. When all the trouble had begun to seem dangerous for Christine Raoul had gone to Paris to stay.
Christine had spoken to Beatrice about some man who taught her to sing from the shadows. She called him her Angel of Music. Beatrice thought Christine to be a little naïve and someone had been pulling the wool over her eyes.
Raoul had confirmed the man had indeed spoken and sung to Christine from behind the walls of the opera house from the first night she had cried in the chapel for her dead father.
When Raoul enlightened Beatrice about the man who was known as the Opera Ghost and Phantom of the Opera she began to understand Christine's slightly confused story of the man who taught her to sing.
Beatrice thought it a crime for some man to use a little girls dying father's promise to trick her into thinking him some heavenly angel. As far as Beatrice was concerned this man could fall into a hole in hell with Lawrence and be in good company.
After Christine's kidnapping and consequent rescue Raoul had come home only long enough to settle a few financial matters then he had whisked Christine away for a quick marriage.
Raoul had not had time to arrange funds to be transferred for Armand. In a panic he had pressured Beatrice to marry Lawrence with all due haste.
A cheap ceremony later, Beatrice found herself married to one of the cruelest men she had ever met. Her father had cowardly left her to fend for herself as he could not stand the guilt that ate at him when he learned of Lawrence's beastly behavior. He left Beatrice with the financial burden as well.
After the marriage Lawrence let his true colors show. The violence escalated over time. Beatrice would have gone to Raoul but he had enough on his plate with that man playing at being a phantom or ghost. Besides he and Christine had left to marry in Italy and spend some time getting over the trauma caused by Christine's maniac angel.
Raoul's absence from his estate left Beatrice no place to go when Lawrence seemed headed for one of his fits.
The debtors began to make demands for payment. Lawrence refused to spend so much as a franc on her home. When she begged for just enough to hold off the creditors until she could sell off some of her possessions, Lawrence had laughed and taunted that she owned nothing. Every last piece of furniture, dish or silver candle stick belonged to him upon their marriage.
Beatrice had taken quite a beating that night as she protested him having any say in the matter of her property. That had been the first of many over the ensuing months.
Beatrice had despaired of ever having a child. Lawrence berated her for being unable to carry a child to term. She had lost five little angels. The toll of each loss etched lines of despair upon Beatrice giving her the appearance of a much older woman, a fact Lawrence never ceased to point out.
The toll on Beatrice's body, physically as well as emotionally were beginning to affect her health. When she complained about meeting Lawrence's intimate demands she earned herself punishment. When she asked him to take precautions so she had time to heal he called her useless as a woman. Then he would proceed to claim his husbandly rights in the cruelest way possible.
Every time she found herself with child Beatrice would try to avoid Lawrence as much as possible. She never knew what little thing would set him off. At times she thought he need not have a reason to unleash the monster in him. She had known of men who were cruel but had never imagined the level of evil a man could reach.
She thought if she could avoid him until the child had been far enough along to withstand the violence she might have a chance of delivering a healthy child.
If ever that would happen Beatrice swore she would leave Lawrence and never come back. Lawrence never gave her the chance to test her resolve as his violence toward her took away her unborn children shortly after being planted in her womb.
Cowering now in the closet Beatrice continued to pray she could stay hidden until Lawrence regained his senses. If she could stay hidden for a few hours he usually calmed down without the need to excise his demons on her flesh. He would expend his angry energy on the house and furnishings.
Hearing footsteps and Lawrence shouting threats of what he would do once he found her sent shivers of fear coursing through Beatrice. She knew he made no idle threats.
Closing her eyes tightly she began to pray in earnest when the footsteps stopped just outside the closet door. Holding her breath she waited for the inevitable.
The door wrenched open crashing back against the wall from the force Lawrence used to open the door as he raged at the cowering woman.
"Here you are you whore. You should have answered me you bitch. I'll damn well knock obedience into you. You are nothing, do you hear, nothing?"
Lawrence had yanked Beatrice from the closet floor by a fistful of her hair. He shook her so hard she felt surely he would pull her head from her shoulders. As it was she felt strands of her hair give way.
Throwing her to the floor Lawrence towered over Beatrice. She began to crawl away from him hoping to get far enough away so she might stand and run.
Lawrence grabbed her ankle pulling her back toward him so hard she heard a snap. If her ankle had not been broken surely it was badly sprained. He may even have torn her muscle.
"Please Lawrence, please. Don't do this. Let's go to the bedroom. I will do all those things you like for me to do. Please don't hurt me any more. Please I beg of you."
He began to mock her, "Oh please Lawrence don't hurt me. Let me show you I can please you. Please me? My dear you haven't pleased me since the day I met you. That father of yours was a real piece of work.
Did you know he bribed me to marry you? He promised me more once the deed was done. I can see by your pitiful doubting face you had no knowledge just how little he thought of you."
Grabbing her painfully once more he shook her as he drew his face close to her own to spit in her face then angrily shout, "You whore. You should have thought about pleasing me before angering me. Now you'll pay for your ignorance."
As Lawrence let her go to stand above her Beatrice frantically looked around for something she might use as a weapon to render him unconscious or at least disable him for a short time while she got away.
Lawrence began to unbuckle his belt. Beatrice dreaded the times he used his belt on her. After the beating he would poor salt into the wound to cauterize it for her safety. Personally Beatrice thought he just liked the extra pain he inflicted.
While Lawrence was occupied undoing his belt Beatrice crawled to the fireplace grabbing the poker. Lumbering to her feet with difficulty Beatrice stood with the poker at the ready should Lawrence approach.
She knew without doubt he would. If her ankle was not injured she would have run out into the darkness so she might hide. Knowing it would not hold under her if she ran Beatrice did the only thing she could. She waited for Lawrence to come for her.
Once his belt was free Lawrence looked up then began to laugh and taunt Beatrice.
"You stupid bitch. You think you can take me down with that? I swear Beatrice you are one of the most lacking of women. You have no looks to speak of, your intelligence is questionable. Add your barren state and your some total is less than nothing.
I would have faired better with one of those whores that walk the Paris streets. Perhaps I'll take you to join them so you might peddle your wares. Might earn me a few francs. You'd need to learn a thing or two but I'm sure after a few customers you'd learn how to please a man. Lord knows you always left me wanting."
Lawrence had been advancing on Beatrice as he spoke. When he said the last word he lunged forward thinking he had lulled Beatrice into one of her usual malleable states after he had trodden over her feelings as well as nearly beaten her senseless.
He did not really expect her to have the courage to use any weapon against him. His arrogance would be his undoing as Beatrice had been driven into a corner like a wild wounded animal.
She did not see her husband before her. All she comprehended was that death took one step at a time closer to her. Closing her eyes Beatrice drew back her arm then swung it around.
When the poker connected with Lawrence's head Beatrice felt the jolt all the way to her shoulder blades. The sickening crack of bones breaking could clearly be heard in the near silent room where death stalked its prey.
Hearing the thud as Lawrence hit the floor, she let out a cry then sank to the floor in a heap. She did not know how long she lay upon the floor dazed.
Stirring she used her hands to push up from the floor. Looking toward the body lying prone just a few feet away from her Beatrice nearly lost the contents of her stomach to see so much blood pooling on the floor.
Crawling closer Beatrice grabbed an ankle to use as leverage to pull herself to a position where she could look at Lawrence more closely. She must ascertain if he was dead or merely unconscious. She felt certain death claimed him.
She did not know if she should feel sorrow for having taken a life or elation for having freed herself from the monster her husband had become or perhaps had always been but merely had been in hiding until he had her in his grasp.
Shaking badly Beatrice laid her hand upon his chest. She felt no movement. No breaths in and out. Laying her head upon his chest she could hear no rhythmic thump of a heartbeat.
Poking at him with her finger garnered no response. She now felt certain life had left him. Drawing her knees up Beatrice wrapped her arms around her up drawn legs. Tiredly she lay her head upon her knees letting the full knowledge of what she had done sink in.
She would surely hang for this or be sent to the guillotine. She had heard of women who had committed similar crimes but had drawn a lenient judge. They had been sent to either prison or an asylum for the insane. She would rather die. She had heard far too many stories about those places.
Her husband being of a prominent family, Beatrice could expect no leniency. Men were allowed to correct a wife's bad behavior. Prison would not suit Beatrice anyway. The last six months had been prison enough for her.
Lawrence had done her a favor by sending the servants away. That was his usual practice when he wanted to have free reign in the house to chase Beatrice about beating her as they went from room to room.
As she looked into the dead face of her cruel husband Beatrice began to make plans. She would do her best to save herself but all would depend on how soon Raoul returned. She could only hope and pray he returned soon. He would no doubt give her shelter and aid her in overcoming this new obstacle in her life.