A/N: Phew. Another chapter. Thank you to Nytd for beta-ing it into shape and for her encouraging words. And thanks to my anonymous reviewers.
hp ~ Thank you very much for a lovely review! I have to admit, I like villains too. :P
Pirate Fangirl ~ I apologise, but we all know what Cutler is like in the movies. Unfortunately he will not be staying as innocent as he started out for any length of time. :( Thanks for reading and leaving a review!
I hope everyone enjoys this new turn of events..
Chapter the Eleventh
A gong sounded, smashing the deathly hush of the Beckett household. The chime echoed in the large hallway, sending a jagged shockwave along the rest of the corridors, sounding more like a call to prayer than a call to eat.
Henry Beckett stepped out of the shadows at the back of the dining room; a muscle twitched in his pallid cheek as he stared dispassionately at the small pocket watch resting on his palm. A heavy silence followed the dinner bell, punctuated by the oblivious hand of the watch counting away the seconds, blissfully unaware of the colourless eyes regarding it so forcefully.
Abruptly Beckett clicked the lid down on the clock face, cutting off its rhythmic march. He turned away from the open door into the hallway, mechanically walking over to sit down at the head of the table. Absentmindedly he straightened the plates in front of him so they were symmetrical, and placed his pocket watch beside him, opening it once again.
He waited.
The minutes ticked away merrily on the watch, mirrored in Beckett's cold eyes. He tapped his fingers on the table, his rasping breaths slow and controlled.
The sound of hurried feet stumbled up to the door, and Henry's wife danced around the corner. Her cheeks were red and her wet hair tumbling out of her bun as she skidded to a halt in the doorway. Panting, she dropped a muddled curtsy, dripping rainwater on the floor and averting her eyes in a futile attempt to conceal her merriment.
Henry's eyes, bottomless and empty, flicked up to fix on her face. "You are late."
"I apologise, I was walking by the river and it was only when it started to rain that I realised I had lost track of the time." Helen spoke hurriedly in between breaths, a secret smile touching her flushed face.
"Were you alone?" Beckett asked hollowly.
Helen hesitated, searching her husband's bland face. "Why do you ask?"
Beckett spread his hands. "It is the husband's place to take an interest in his wife," he replied with a tight smile.
"Of course I was alone," Helen stammered, trying a brittle laugh.
To cover her fumbled reply, she came over to sit by her husband, asking him about his own day.
Beckett ignored her. "Where is Cutler?"
Helen frowned. "I – I don't rightly know," she answered, looking around the room.
"Perhaps if you spent more time looking after our son, rather than wandering by the river, you would know." Beckett's tone was even but his face openly hostile.
"Perhaps if you spent any time with our son, you would know!" Helen bit back.
Henry slammed a fist down onto the table, knocking over the glasses. Helen recoiled, shrinking into her seat with a soft whimper.
"I will not be talked to like that!" he roared. "How dare you question the way I run my household?"
Helen bit her lip. Gripping the arm of her chair, she pushed against Beckett's violent fury, forcing herself to sit up straight and meet her husband's terrifying eyes.
For the first time in a long time, she did dare.
Beckett stared at her in condemnation, but his initial furious reaction was bought to a halt by Helen's uncharacteristic daring. Stupefied, his brow fluctuated between anger and confusion, wondering what had caused the change in his subservient wife. Then all expression on his face froze.
"What is that?"
Helen frowned, following Beckett's motionless finger towards her throat, she saw the smallest flash of gold. She blanched and her hand shot to her neck, but Beckett was faster. His fingers closed around the necklace that Julian had given her and he studied it.
"Who gave this to you?" he asked, voice even colder than usual.
It took all of Helen's courage not to turn and run to her room then and there. "A friend," she replied, voice shaking.
Beckett's hand tightened on the chain. "Who gave this to you?" he repeated, gritting his teeth.
Helen tried to wiggle out of her husband's hold, but Beckett clamped a hand down on her shoulder. She gasped, her frightened gaze darting up to clash with Beckett's furious one.
"Have you been lying to me?" he demanded.
"No!" Helen answered, trembling.
"You are lying!" Beckett shouted, his voice breaking into a shout.
He ripped at the necklace and Helen cried out as the delicate chain snapped. Tears welled in her eyes and she staggered backwards, knocking over her chair. Beckett threw the remains of the necklace onto the floor, snarling and turning on Helen. She didn't wait for him to speak, but with a wild sob she turned away, ignoring Beckett's order for her to stop and stumbled out of the room.
Instead of running up the stairs, Helen turned towards the front door. Without pausing to contemplate the possible consequences of her actions, she flung open the door and a burst of wind slapped into her face. Fighting against the gale, she struggled out into the street, slamming the door behind her.
The rain caught her as she turned around and small, sharp pinpricks of water stabbed at her bare arms and loose clothes. Helen's hair plastered to her forehead in seconds, and she wiped a dripping hand across her cold face.
In the mist behind her she heard a voice, easily recognised as the strident call of her husband. Panic clawed at her throat and she started to run, not thinking where she was going. Her slippers splashed into puddles and her dress dragged along the muddy ground. Noises from her pursuer empowered her and, ignoring the cold and her fear, she kept moving.
Helen hadn't realised where she was going until she found herself, dripping and shivering, outside Julian's house. She hammered on the door, casting frightened, guilty looks over her shoulder through the rain. It seemed an age before the door creaked open and Julian's perplexed curly-haired head appeared.
"Helen?" he murmured, blinking.
She pushed past him into the dimly lit hallway, banging the door closed behind them. Gasping, she put her back to the door and slid down it, ending up in a heap on the floor.
"What's happening?" Julian demanded, eyes widening.
When Helen didn't answer, he leant down beside her and took her hands, his grip a little tight. "Helen?"
The sound of footsteps came from outside, and Julian and Helen's heads both snapped up in time to clearly hear the sound of Henry Beckett shouting to someone outside.
Julian paled. "You bought Beckett here?" he whispered.
"He followed me," Helen replied, eyes swimming with tears.
Julian was frozen to the spot, staring dumbly at the door. Seeing Julian's state, Helen clambered to her feet and pulled Julian up after her. As Henry started knocking impatiently on the door, the couple staggered out of the hall and into the next room.
"Please help me?" Helen pleaded. "I cannot bear to stay with Henry another moment!"
Julian was in a daze. He frowned at Helen, hearing her words but not really understanding. The sound of the front door smashing open crashed through his silence.
"How?" Julian asked desperately, features writhing in confusion. "What?"
"Run away with me!" Helen hissed, eyes bright and grip on his arm painful.
Julian opened and closed his mouth, indecision leaking out into his expression as he looked from Helen to the door. Henry was making his way noisily through the corridor towards them, calling Helen's name.
"Julian - please?" Helen begged, tears trailing down her flushed cheeks. "Run away with me like we did before."
Julian's eyes widened. "That was nothing," he protested. "It was harmless fun. A dalliance. We were barely more than children -" Julian's voice trailed off.
"You said you loved me," Helen murmured.
"I did – " he replied distractedly.
Helen grabbed Julian by the chin and forced him to look at her. "Is that all I am to you still, a dalliance?" she demanded through damp, laboured breaths.
Julian's gaze was fixed on the door and he hardly seemed to hear her. As Henry careered into the room, Julian pushed Helen off him and, ignoring her protests, ran towards the open window. All Henry saw was the back of a light brown head and a snatch of a brightly coloured coat before the wooden window shutter slammed shut.
Helen blinked at the window, the lingering warmth of Julian's body beside hers making it impossible to accept that he had gone. Her tears dried up and her hysteria abruptly stopped. She stared unblinkingly at the space where Julian had just been.
In the deathly silence that followed, Henry ran across the room and grabbed Helen by the shoulders. She didn't take her eyes off the window as he shook her and his shouted words fell on deaf ears. He raised a shaking hand and slapped her across the face, sending her head jerking to the side, but she didn't speak.
She didn't even blink.
Somewhere in the street a little way away, a young man in a remarkably colourful coat sunk down onto the ground, put his head in his hands and wept.
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