Meyer, your story tapped into a piece of our psyche that we don't often admit exists. Thank you.
And thank you to my radiantly beautiful team. You know who they are by now. Unfortunately, real life prevented me from getting this chapter to sweet Perry on time. I'm so sorry. Mistakes and misplaced commas are my fault.
MM is currently reeling off a list of good folk to dedicate this chapter to, including Open Source software developers and civil servants. He's right – those people, and all the others he mentioned, deserve my recognition.
But I am going to dedicate this chapter to the adults with difficulties and disabilities who live unsupported in our world. Be a good neighbour, gentle reader.
If you were somewhere on the autistic spectrum in 1795, who would know?
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Chapter 20 – Hallowed Be Thy Name
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"I watched her die, and I knew that William Black would never forgive me."
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Swan's muffled sobs disturb the silence, which surrounds and penetrates the rest of us like the damp Norfolk light through the picture windows.
Bella stirs before my clarity quite returns. She rises stiffly, and seats herself beside her father, taking his hand with an expression of duty upon her face. He does not see, for his eyes remain downcast; but he grips her tightly, gratefully, and she attempts to soothe him – good daughter that she is.
I feel quite ill.
Genevieve – the woman who by all rights should be in Bella's place right now – sits as blankly as she ever has.
Em clings tightly to Rose, but looks towards me. We share a consternated grimace. Two husbands with pregnant wives, faced with such a tale. What are we to do with this knowledge? How do men act, in the face of such agony?
And, Alice – my cousin and I turn to look at her, as though the thought strikes us simultaneously.
Poor Alice.
Her body twitches as though inclined to run away; but her face expresses a misery that may never allow her to move from this place again. Her feet are firmly planted on the floor. They could raise her into a pugilistic stance, or keep her anchored in her seat. The urge to fight and the urge to flee war within her so clearly, her body is akin to a newspaper report, publishing her internal struggle for all to read.
My brother looks as perturbed and at a loss as Em and I. As always, it is up to me to take charge.
I rise and pour a glass of sweet port wine. Taking it over to her, I crouch down at Alice's feet. I place the glass in her chilled fingers. There is a wild look in her eyes as she stares at me through tears.
"Are you all right, Alice?"
She answers with a shake and nod combined, and I take it that she is not all right, but I am grateful for any response at all.
I take her other hand in mine and squeeze gently. "We are all here, Sweetheart. You are not alone."
She nods properly this time. I squeeze her hand again and place it in Jasper's warm grip. He raises her hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, before holding it to his cheek.
I am still on my knees when Genevieve comes alive.
"No!" she exclaims.
I almost topple backwards in fright.
"No, no, no, no, no. That is not what occurred. Why are you lying? You promised me you would reveal the truth, why do you lie?"
She sounds so unhinged.
Swan tears his hand away from Bella and shakes his finger at the woman he has shared his whole life with. "Don't you accuse me, woman! Don't you accuse me! You were not there, you did not see, you do not bear my burdens – you only add to them!"
Hi spits this last at her with such venom that she raises her hands as though to ward him off.
I shake away my shock, and rise to place myself between the pair, in case they do come to blows. "Now now, hush now. This is not how it goes."
I turn to face Genevieve. I speak softly, so as not to intimidate her. "We have listened openly to a shocking tale, and we are all affected by it. I cannot credit your accusations in the face of what was told – indeed, how it was told. But I assure you, Genevieve, if you wish to tell it from your point of view, we are all ears. We will not stop you. Only, speak your truth. It does no good to lay blame. Can you tell us your story?"
I fear she is withdrawing from us as I speak. The blankness returns to her features slowly, as though a mask is painted there by a faery, or a fiend.
"Mama, please." Rose rises – not without difficulty – from Em's tight grasp, and takes her place at her mother's side.
One daughter per parent, neither one thrilled to perform her role, but each necessary to the task.
"Please Mama. Do not hide away. Why do you think my father lies? Who told you what happened? Did he tell you? Did my father tell you a different tale? We must know the truth, Mama. Can you not see?"
Awareness creeps back as Genevieve and Rose lock eyes together.
"I made a promise, Rose. I can never tell. Awful things will happen to you all if I break my word. I cannot speak. I am not meant to speak. When I do, bad, bad things happen. Always, they happen. He knows, he always knows. No, I must not speak."
As though her last words end a play, the curtain descends and Genevieve is no longer present; though her physical body remains, her spirit has left her empty.
I turn furiously to Swan. "What promise? What have you done to her? Why does she think you are lying? What the hell is going on, man?"
I hold my hand out to Bella – I want her away from the cold fool she comforts. She rises obediently, and comes to me.
Swan looks blankly after her.
"What promise? What promise? She has made no promises to me. She rarely speaks to me at all..." He trails off, deep in thought.
"She does not speak to anyone," Bella tells me, awareness dawning in her eyes. "She never has. It is Mr Black she fears. I thought it was you, Father – all this time I thought it was you she fears, but that is not so, is it Mama?" She drops to her knees in front of her mother, taking the hand that Rose does not hold. "It is Mr Black who made you promise, is it not? Tell me I am wrong, Mama. Shake your head if I am wrong."
Genevieve's head remains rigidly still.
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Eventually, we go to bed. The evening is still young, but we can no longer tolerate one-another's presence, so we retire to our rooms to sup in pairs.
Only Jasper and Alice must part, and both feel the injustice. I suspect neither will be alone for long. I cannot control everything. I only hope that when he comforts, my brother is careful and aware.
I imagine, after today, Jasper will be frightened half to death of the consequences of relations out of wedlock.
My wife sleeps. The sun has not yet quite set, but she was exhausted. She managed her soup before laying her head down to rest, knowing the consequences of sleeping on an empty stomach.
She is so beautiful in sleep. Her dark hair spills over the white linen – she had not the energy to braid it. By the time the maid came to assist her, she lay deep in her dreams.
Her lips pout softly. She is in that stage of slumber when mumbles pass between them. Soon she will speak intelligible words, but her drowsy sentences rarely hold sense.
Is it wrong that I watch her so? She requires a great deal more rest than I, and my favourite pastime is to watch her dream. To know that this precious woman belongs to me; that she can rest so securely in my bed while I keep lookout – it does something to my heart. She is so vulnerable, yet so fearless in my keeping. I love to watch her sleep.
But tonight I need more.
As the sun slips down into the horizon, I feel my strength slip away with it. Twilight brings the demons out to play, and I feel my own vulnerability rise to the surface like the moon into the sky. I do not want to be alone.
I undress, and slip between the covers naked. Bella breathes deeply, and pushes her small hips back into my body's embrace. I rest my nose in the gap between her nightgown and her hair, and inhale the bewitching scent of her flesh. She mumbles again.
Nuzzling her hair away from her neck, I begin to kiss and suck at her soft skin. The hand I am not lying upon reaches down her legs to find the hem of her gown. I pull and push it upwards until her hip is bare under my palm.
She responds to my wandering hand with sleepy pleasure. Her uppermost thigh pushes forward so that her sex is open to me, and her bottom pushes rhythmically and gently into my aching groin.
But I want more.
"Bella," I whisper into her ear, the wind from my breath making her cringe and squirm. "Bella, wake up. I need you."
She turns to me, eyes blinking sleepily in the half-light. Her soft smile, the one that means she loves me, plays on her lips.
"Here I am, Edward."
"Take off your gown. I need to see you. All of you."
She pauses – a bashful pause, not disobedience or reluctance. I stroke her face to reassure her. She ought not be shy still – I have seen her naked countless times. Perhaps something in my voice arrests her.
"Please, Bella. I need you. I need to see you."
She nods, and sits to untie and lift her lacy nightdress. She is still so small, but if my eyes do not deceive me, I believe I see the beginnings of a tiny bulge in her belly. As the gown covers her face, I swiftly bend and kiss her there.
My child. My son or daughter lives within this precious casing.
I take the gown from her hands and discard it on the bedroom floor.
"Lie down." I push the sheets away so that the mattress is our bare canvass. "That's it – lie here, and spread your legs open, so that I may kneel between them."
She does as I ask. And oh, Lord above, she is exquisite.
Her hair; her eyes; her mouth. The gentle curve of her shoulders. Her soft nipples harden slightly under my gaze, as though my eyes have touched them.
Her waist curves in, and her hips curve out in their womanly way. Her sweet navel adorns her midsection like a prize, a winning rosette for being born; for surviving.
Her sex beneath her dark curls is exposed and open to me – her husband. This secret place that only I have been. She opens it for me, none other, and I am most blessed for the favour.
I bend and kiss her there, and she moans, pushing herself up into my eager mouth. She is wet, and I want her, but I want her pleasure first.
I open my mouth wide and suck her in. I want to posses her. I begin a frenzy here between her legs, devouring her with teeth and tongue and lips. I suck and soothe; fuck and taste; lick and swirl. I am relentless, and hold her legs wide apart with firm hands on her squirming thighs.
When she releases, it is with a guttural groan that comes from some place deep inside her soul. The sound makes my cock dance, and before she has finished her undulating movements, I am inside her.
I push myself deep into her wet, warm place, the ridges of her flesh surrounding me blissfully as I grab hold of her hands and cover her mouth with mine.
I kiss her aggressively, thrusting my tongue into her mouth just as I thrust into her below. She moans into the kiss, and meets me with her hips at every fuck. Her breasts push into my bare chest, and I am a beast, but she is part animal too.
I own this woman. She is mine; my wife. She belongs to me. Only God can take her away, and He will have me to answer to when He does. He had better take me first, because this is my woman; and I am hers.
I am so completely and utterly hers.
I release inside of her before I am ready to, with an incoherent shout; and Bella joins me with her own sweet cry – almost a sob, a plea to the heavens and my name. My name on her lips in her ecstasy.
"Please God," I pray, "Do not take my wife away from me. Please."
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I wake very early in the morning, almost embarrassed at my emotional outburst the night before. In the light of day, I hope that God does not hold my desperate prayers against me.
I smile at the glorious sight beside me. Naked Bella, stretched out across the bed, the sunrise playing patterns on her pale skin, bestowing a rosy tint I imagine some artists would kill for.
I kiss her temple, and cover her with the sheet. I will pay my estate some attention before dealing with its current occupants.
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I find Jasper at the stableyard.
"How is Alice? I was concerned about her last night," I ask.
Jasper shakes his head. "She is resigned, for now. She told me that the events Swan described seemed very far apart from her, as though they were experienced by other people entirely. She can barely think of her own mother."
"She is certain then, that she is the babe taken to the convent? The child of Sarah and William?"
"Oh, there is no doubt. From what she has pieced together, and from Sir Charles' own account, there is no doubt at all."
"I was thinking about Genevieve, and what she meant," I say.
"Naturally. I dwelt on it all night myself."
Jasper does look hollow-eyed.
"You recall our wedding? The ridiculous sermon Black gave?"
"I do. It was entirely inappropriate. I was surprised at your patience."
"I had my prize at my side, Jasper. I was inclined to give the loser his pyrrhic victory."
"But you are reconsidering his actions in the light of what you have heard?"
"He was intimidated by me for some reason, but I do not think that was an oft felt emotion for him. I think he is the sort of man to use his religious fervour to intimidate, dominate and control others. "
"I see. Yes, I can imagine... And you think he held this kind of power over..."
"All of them. Swan, Genevieve, the girls – Sarah."
"Perhaps Genevieve made a promise to Black that she would never speak..."
"And she took it literally..."
"And he was always there to reinforce the threat. The fiend!"
Jasper's exclamation is out of character for him. That he came to the same conclusion as I, as quickly as he did, proves its validity.
"We need to persuade Genevieve to speak. She could shed so much more light on the situation," he says.
"Do you think, with your training, you could overcome Black's teaching? His threats?"
My brother rubs his chin. "I suppose there is one way to find out."
"Agreed. Shall we?" As we turn towards the house I sling my arm around my brother's shoulders. He has filled out recently.
My brother has become a man.
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Mrs C greets us in the passage on our return.
"There you are, Sir! My Lady has been seeking you. She wishes to breakfast in the orangery, while it is still cool. We are about ready to serve, Sir, if you are. Mr Samuels has gone off after the both of you, I'll try and catch him."
Jasper and I grin at her cheer. There is nothing our housekeeper likes more than a full house to keep.
We wash up in the scullery, annoying the kitchen staff immensely, though they would not admit it for all the wealth in China. Young things bob and weave and curtsy around us as we make our way through the bustling kitchen. Only cook is distracted enough from her work to watch us all the way out of the door, a smile softening her usually severe features. The rest of them are probably too scared of her to pay us any mind. Although, as we exit, I believe I hear the distinct sound of a tea cloth being snapped, and a fiercely muttered 'back to to work girls!' .
The woman is a slave driver.
Everyone is already gathered in the orangery.
Bella stands with her hand on her mother's shoulder. As soon as she sees me, her face lights into a radiant smile. We move towards one another wordlessly, falling into a tender embrace as naturally as taking the next breath. I bend to kiss her cheek, and we walk back to the prettily set table arm in arm.
I catch Swan staring at us with a strange expression on his face, as I pull out my wife's chair and ensure she is comfortably seated. I cannot help but wonder what he makes of all the normal, loving behaviour around him.
I move to Rose's side to find out how she fares this morning. I offer her a small bow, and squeeze her hand gently. She looks well-rested, at least. She returns my squeeze and smiles at me. Rosalie will be fine, I believe. She has learned to pack away the bad news as efficiently as a storekeeper his dry wares.
Alice fares less well. More hollow-eyed than her paramour, skin sallow, a bloody bitten fingernail – the poor girl looks as though she has been through a war since sunrise. She is engaged in a quiet argument with Jasper. I decide it is my place to intervene.
"Good morning, Alice. Will you sit? Mr Masen is hungry as an ox. He has been burning off his energy since dawn."
Jasper replies for her. "Alice wishes not to join us this morning."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"I am uncertain. She has not explained herself well." He looks irritated. Perhaps he does not agree with the explanation she gave.
"Look Sweetheart, I know this is trying for you. We would all prefer you stay and eat with us, but I understand completely if it is too difficult for you." Alice's bravery tends to emerge when she is challenged. I wonder whether my gentle dig will have the desired effect.
It does. Her chin raises, and she turns her timidly defiant gaze on Swan, while answering me.
"If you wish me to remain, my Lord, I will."
"Come and sit then." I pull out a chair close to Rose and far away from Charles, who – uncharacteristically – remains standing.
I take it that her uncle has implied he does not want her here. Well, he has no say. I disregard him entirely.
Conversation is quiet. While no one would name this a happy or comfortable family gathering, for once our meal remains drama-free. Food and drink is devoured, superficial pleasantries are exchanged, and in my and Bella's case, feet are rubbed against one-another below the table.
As the meal winds down, discussion turns to suggestions as to how we should spend our day. I suspect that I am not alone in wanting to hear more about Charles, Genevieve and Alice, but no one suggests we revisit the topic. That is, until Jasper requests Genevieve's company in a walk to the church.
She looks at him blankly, passive as a worm. He reluctantly turns to Swan for assistance.
Charles sighs heavily, and attempts to engage Genevieve's interest. "Do you want to see the Church, Wren? Perhaps Rose or Alice will accompany you. I have some correspondence to attend to, so you will have to amuse yourself this morning anyway."
She merely lowers her eyes. He sighs again. "She will go. But one of the girls must accompany her, Mr Masen. I cannot allow her to walk with you on her own."
"I will come," says Alice, already pushing back her chair to stand. Jasper, Em and I rise with her. Swan's fat bum remains firmly in place, even when Genevieve is persuaded out of her chair by my brother.
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Much later, Jasper seeks me out in my study. He looks grim; exhausted.
"Did that work? You do not have the air of a successful man."
"Oh no, it worked. But it was not me who persuaded her to speak. Alice – er," He looks away from me in discomfort. He clears his throat.
"Spit it out, Jasper. What did Alice do?"
He sighs heavily. "Alice attacked her. Physically, I mean. She, er – she pulled her hair and slapped her until she broke down in tears. Then the story came out."
I shake my head in stunned denial. That little girl? So frightened of everyone and everything? "I think you had better tell me the story from the beginning, Brother."
"Yes. Well, pour me a drink, and I will."
We settle into the two comfortable chairs near the small fireplace. In a gesture very familiar to me, Jasper runs his hands through his hair, tugging on it in frustration.
"We walked all the way to the church with me preaching and cajoling and persuading, and Genevieve was quiet as a mouse. I gave her my finest sermon, words I practised over and over in my head before we set off, but I had as much effect on her as a single raindrop on a giant lake. She remained closed off, utterly indifferent. We reached the church, which was empty, and I was ready to give up. She took a pew, and just sat, staring into nothing."
Jasper stares into the air himself, seeing little as he recalls his morning.
"Anyway, Alice had been very quiet too, listening to me patiently, respectfully, as she does. But, perhaps when she saw defeat in my eyes, she became frustrated. She has quite a temper, you know. She holds it in check very well, but when she snaps – well, you would not like to be on the receiving end."
I laugh. "Women are not the delicate, angelic beings we imagine, are they Jasper?"
"Indeed not. Although, I cannot imagine Bella losing control in that manner."
This is something to ponder. Bella certainly contains fire, but what would provoke her to violence? I cannot imagine. I shrug my shoulders. "So what, exactly, did Alice do?"
"It was horrible, Edward. There we were, alone in the house of God, while Alice lost all control and began shouting and screaming at the woman who is essentially her aunt. And Genevieve still did not respond – so she grabbed her by her hair, pulled her face around and began to slap her repeatedly."
Poor Jasper, he appears so traumatised I cannot suppress my guffaw. "My apologies, but – no, you are right, it is not at all funny."
He cracks a smile. "Well, perhaps, in retrospect..."
"What did you do?"
"I ordered her to stop, of course, but she paid me no heed. In the end, I had to pick her up bodily and uncurl her fingers from Genevieve's hair. Both of them were crying by this time. I gave Alice a brief, stern lecture, and turned back to find the other woman sobbing on the floor. Honestly, Edward, what would you have done?"
"I am without doubt that you handled the situation impeccably, Jasper." He thinks I am teasing him, but I mean it truly. "How did you get Genevieve to talk?
"Oh, it all came out after that. She told me she was going straight to hell, and that she had just realised that Mr Black's threats held no power over her any more."
"What did she mean by that?"
"I have no idea, but I do know that William Black has been selling her a trough of dung for truth, for decades now. Apparently, he told Genevieve that Swan wilfully murdered his sister for the shame she brought, and that if she ever spoke of it – or anything else – ever again, she would be visited by all the ills of the earth and more. He convinced her that it was her duty to submit to Charles, but that she could never bring him happiness.
In all honesty, Edward, I believe Black used Charles and Genevieve to punish each other for his own bitterness at the loss of Sarah. He bewitched them both in the worst way. It seems he convinced Genevieve not to marry Charles, and convinced Charles to take Genevieve for his own. Then he used their sins against them, threatening them both with all manner of fire and brimstone, in order to exact revenge for their being alive, while the little girl he impregnated was not."
There is a great deal here to consider. We sit in silence for a time. I try to absorb and understand the significance of this information, but there is much I do not yet grasp.
"What about Genevieve's family? Were they so quick to let her go?"
Jasper shakes his head, a gesture of sorrow rather than denial. "They were very poor, from what I understand, despite the title, the land and the rotting castle. I suspect the Baron more or less sold his daughter to Swan without proof of marriage."
"And Alice? And Bella? How did they play into this unholy mess?"
"Genevieve believes that Alice was dispatched to the convent with the wet nurse, who held a letter that was only to be opened upon the word of either Black or Swan. Sir Charles is not a complete fool, you know. He was young when this happened, but there is wile in his character. He must have demanded insurance against Black's ability to cast the situation in a criminal light. The letter was the insurance. As was the child – well, Alice. You see, young Swan had as much leverage over young Black, as Black had over Swan."
"Is that so?" I am surprised, but on reflection, their relationship - as I saw it - always did see-saw in terms of who held most power over the other. Both men are fools in their own way, but neither of them is stupid.
"Genevieve was witness to a dozen scenes or more in which Lord Black threatened his son with excommunication and disinheritance, for misdemeanours far less significant than bedding a poor estate manager's daughter."
"And Lord Black still lives; so his son must yet fear him greatly."
"Which would explain why he was willing to wait for Bella's hand in marriage. At least, so Genevieve believes. When his father dies, William will be free to behave as he likes, take whomever he prefers as wife. But while Lord Black lives, the son's behaviour is moderated to maintain Papa's approval."
Thank heavens for that; if he was not so inclined, I would not be a happily married man. Something still confuses me though. "Did Genevieve explain why Charles brought Alice to live with them as a servant?"
"No, she was not actually aware that Alice was Black's daughter until recently. She never enquired."
"How frustrating. We will have to ask him ourselves."
We are distracted from our conversation by a knock on the study door. "Enter," I call.
A troubled-looking Samuels opens the door. "My Lord, if you could, there is some difficulty..." He is tongue-tied, and gestures helplessly with his head towards the hallway behind him.
We can hear a commotion coming from the far end. I am on my feet, Jasper close behind, before Samuels finds words to complete his sentence.
I do not wish to run, but stride with some urgency towards the voices. At the bottom of the stairs, a telling scene is playing out.
Swan has Alice in his beefy hands. He grasps her arms behind her back with one, and shakes her shoulder vigorously with the other. Genevieve, face red, bruised and tear-stained. stands sullen and defeated to one side. I cannot quite understand what Swan is shouting at Alice, through my rage.
Jasper shouts loudly from behind me, and with a burst of speed, reaches the tense tableau before I do. In an act of valour and aggression I am frankly astonished to witness, my brother grasps Swan around the neck with his arm, wrenching his head backwards and forcing him to unhand the frightened girl.
"What the devil are you doing?" I yell, unable to control my wrath. Jasper keeps hold of Charles, as I take little Alice into my own arms. Her whole body trembles with fear. I press her head into my chest, where she sobs into my waistcoat.
I receive no reply from my father-in-law, and it is no wonder, as Jasper's choke-hold remains fierce.
"Unhand him, Jasper. Allow him to explain himself," I ask, and my brother reluctantly steps away.
Swan dramatically places his hands on his knees and wheezes in a good few deep breaths before he responds. When he does, he points a finger at his niece accusingly.
"Oh, assume I am in the wrong, as always, Masen. Ask that little witch what damage she has inflicted on my Wren! Go on! Ask her!"
Jasper slaps Swan's pointing finger down hard. The idiot man turns his incredulous, apoplectic eyes to my brother, who looks as though he would love nothing more than to punch the living daylights out of Sir Charles.
I open my mouth to speak, and as my patience fails, the tone of my voice rises, until the last few words are shot at Swan like bullets. "How many times do I have to tell you, if you encounter a problem in my house, you damn well come to me! There will be none of this nonsense under my roof. Now get out of my sight!"
Swan turns sharply on his heel, takes Genevieve by the arm, and stalks up the stairs with her like an angry hippopotamus dragging a pink, flushed flamingo.
When did my beloved Forbrigg descend into a zoological garden?
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Remember, Gentle Reader, if you are still confused it is because you are Edward; and he is still confused.
I would like to welcome all my new readers, and ask you to drop me a line to tell me how you found me. In the immortal words of a certain vampire, I won't bite! And I'd love to hear from you.
What's happening in Vegas? A Twific meet up, that's what. You can google it. You know you want to. [Beta-type folk, if you use a proper noun as a verb, does it take a capital letter? Hmmm – pass me the Hoover to hoover the carpet... I think not. Take that, spell-check.]
Well, anyway, I have no idea how I am going to manage to fit Plight Thee into the next month of my life, but I haven't let you down yet, and I don't intend to now if I can possibly avoid it. This means even fewer review replies, but I still want to hear from you. I will also try to be more sociable on Twitter, which is my only other Twific outlet. Come and find me there. Gingerandgreen.
Take care, and thank you for being there.