Chapter 12: Beneath His Mask

Mr Collins' grip on her arm was like iron, and fear was rippling through Clarke's veins like ice. As they came to where her room was she prayed to God that he would leave her there. However, he opened the door and followed her inside, finally letting her go.

"Thank you, Mr Collins."

He was checking his pocket watch, paying her no attention. However, his face was unimpressed, and Clarke knew that she wasn't off the hook yet.

"You shouldn't have been out there on your own."

"Yes, I know."

"I thought you were supposed to be ill?"

Clarke frowned, confused, then recalled her fainting. "Fainting does not equal illness, Mr Collins."

He ignored her remark. "If you weren't feeling well, you should've stayed here."

"It was too hot in here. My father recommends fresh air for victims of fainting, Mr Collins."

Again, he ignored her. "Anybody could've come across you. Count yourself lucky it was another woman, and not some thirsty layabout from lower down."

"Are you suggesting that I put myself in danger on purpose, Mr Collins?" Clarke asked incredulously.

"I am suggesting that as the future Mrs Collins, you must be more careful, hence why I assigned Mr Jordan with your protection."

"I don't need protection, Mr Collins; this ship has the very best of the police service at its disposal!"

"Perhaps during the day, but it is not for a woman of your stature to be roaming the decks at night!"

"I may go as I please!"

Mr Collins suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her arm, his hand rough and his grip painful as he squeezed. "No, Miss Griffin, you may not."

Her eyes beginning to tear up in both fear and pain, Clarke whimpered. "Let go of me!"

He made no such movement, despite Clarke attempting to struggle. "You are engaged to me, you represent me, and I will have order!"

"Let her go now! Let her go or I'll have the chief constable in here!"

Clarke turned at the sound of her mother's voice, intensely grateful for her timely arrival. Mr Collins let go of her quickly and Clarke rubbed her arm, the area where his hand had been already beginning to redden. Mr Collins had plastered his best, easy smile on his face and sauntered towards her mother.

"Ah! Mrs Griffin, how wonderful that you're here-" He began but her mother cut him off with a look.

"It is very late, Mr Collins. I think its best you leave. I'll be having words with your father about your…conduct later."

Mr Collins puffed out his chest, a look of pure outrage on his face. "You do not dismiss me!"

"I will speak to you as I see fit! Make no mistake, Mr Collins, you are not engaged to my daughter yet, and you should be lucky that my husband isn't here at this moment because he'd have you on the floor for touching his daughter. I suggest you ponder your behaviour and come up with an apology at dinner tonight. Now, if you don't mind, I have business to discuss with my daughter."

Mr Collins smiled, with no sincerity showing in his expression whatsoever. "As you wish, Mrs Griffin. I'll see you both at dinner. Oh, and our guest as well."

He strode towards the door and promptly left, with nothing else to say. Clarke's mother turned to face her and sighed, worry creasing her forehead.

"Are you alright?"

Clarke rubbed her arm. "I'm fine. Just glad to see the back of him for tonight."

Her mother crossed the room and took Clarke in her arms, hugging her tightly. "I was just coming to check on you. Fortunately, I could hear that man shouting through the wall."

"He was just angry because I nearly slipped and fell into the water."

"What? How on Earth did you do that?"

"I was trying to get some fresh air, I was feeling sick." Clarke felt guilty lying to her mother, but what else could she say? She was planning on jumping to an icy death? She was meeting her new lover, a working class girl who worked in the coal furnaces of the engine room? That would go down swell with her church going mother for sure.

"You should've asked me to come with you, Clarke."

Clarke hung her head. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry."

"So Mr Collins found you did he?"

"No, that's why he's angry. A working class girl out having a smoke saw me, and stopped my fall. He's invited her to dinner tonight to repay her, but you know how he feels about working class people."

Her mother looked deep in thought for a moment. "Well, I doubt the poor girl will come anyway, Clarke. She won't have anything to wear and she'll be terrified of the idea of dining with our sort."

"But Mr Collins insisted that she come, what if she's afraid not to? She'll turn up in her best and he'll use it as an excuse to laugh at her."

"Well, what do you suggest we do, Clarke?"

Clarke avoided her mother's gaze. "I could lend her one of my dresses…?"

Clarke's mother raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know the girl's name, Clarke, how will you be able to find her to lend her a dress?"

"Her name is Lexa Woods, that's what she called herself. I don't think it's fair to leave her open for torment."

Her mother frowned, and Clarke could tell she was analysing the situation in her mind, just like her father did when he wanted to make sure everything went to plan.

"Very well, if you can find her, you may lend her a dress."

Clarke threw her arms around her mother. "Thank you!"

Clarke's mother chuckled but looked Clarke seriously in the eye as she removed Clarke from her. "But. I have some rules."

Clarke nodded meekly and her mother continued. "You may lend her a dress, but not one of your new ones. She certainly cannot keep the dress, and if she ruins it, she must pay for it. I want the dress returned the next morning. If she tries to steal it, I will report her to the constable. Is that clear?"

Clarke nodded quickly. "Yes, Mother."

Clarke's mother seemed satisfied. "Good. Now, get yourself to bed. It's late and you have a busy day ahead of you. I will see you at breakfast."

Clarke watched her mother leave and jumped onto her bed. At last she was alone and could think about the one person she truly wanted to think about. Lexa. She'd kissed her, and Lexa had kissed back. Lexa shared her feelings. Lexa wanted her like Clarke wanted Lexa. Was it too good to be true? Clarke had never felt like this, like adrenaline was constantly running through her, her heart beating at what seemed like an impossible pace. She traced her lips, still feeling the heat from Lexa's kiss, from where her tongue had gently grazed her plump bottom lip, closing her eyes as she remembered how she'd hungrily wanted more, wanting to kiss Lexa and explore her all night. Lexa made her body come to life, and Clarke never wanted to go back.