Chapter 53 – Facing Your Demons:

Hello everyone! Sorry for the long delay as I have busy with my new job blah blah! Anyway enjoy this new chapter and please review. Warning this chapter is pretty graphic and contains swearing. Thanks xx

As the Porters were all going to the Foxtons' country house for Percy's birthday weekend, Jane had given all the staff the weekend off to visit their families. The servants were ecstatic and set about travelling back to their hometowns, but both Miss Lyons and Thomas opted to stay and guard the house.

Thomas had stated that Yorkshire was too far for him to travel just for a weekend whereas Miss Lyons didn't really give her reasons as to why she was not going. Thomas assumed that she going to attend a suffragist meeting of some sort and but didn't say as she liked to keep her political leanings private. He was also secretly very pleased that she did decide to stay. They had not really spoken since their kiss in the park and he wanted to, he didn't know what to do, but he couldn't cope with the awkward pleasantries and avoiding each other's glances.

It was strange just the two staying in the large house with only Simpkin for company. They could hear every creak of the floorboards and gurgle of the pipes as if the house itself was alive. Miss Lyons took it up upon herself to make them dinner and cooked them sausages, mash and gravy with carrots and peas. She didn't say anything when Thomas offered to peel and chop the vegetables; she just nodded her head in thanks.

Despite Thomas being a lad who could chat the head off a horse, they barely spoke, chopping vegetables and cooking in a comfortable, almost domestic silence. For once he was stumped, he was not sure of what to say and felt that chitchat would irritate her.

"How comes thou art nut visiting yer family?" he eventually asked as they sat down at the long kitchen table to eat.

"I have lessons to plan, work to mark," Miss Lyons shrugged her shoulders as she cut off a piece of sausage, "things to do. I will see my family once my post comes to an end, once the Porters go back to Africa." Miss Lyons opened a book on the table and read as she ate her dinner. It was book of Keat's poetry and Thomas watched her pale blue eyes scan the pages with an avid curiosity. He enjoyed watching her read; the girls in his village were too busy with farm work or finding a husband to read books. He had been practising hard at his own reading and he hoped to impress her soon by reciting some poetry, maybe even his own composition.

Thomas nodded and Simpkin mewed at him, looking up at him with his big, pale yellowy green eyes. Thomas smiled and fed the cat a piece of sausage.

"You shouldn't do that," Miss Lyons remarked coolly, "the cat will start to beg for food now. It's a working cat, not a pet."

Thomas immediately stopped feeding Simpkin and went back to eating his dinner, the silence and the tension between them palatable.

"I'm going to t'pub for a drink with some chums in a minute," he said as they cleared the kitchen table. "Would thou like to join me?"

"Oh thank you for the offer but I will have to decline," Miss Lyons shook her head as she carried the plates over to the sink. "I have some ironing to do, but don't stop on my account."

Thomas watched her fill the butler sink with water and started to scrub at the plates. He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder with his hand, immediately Miss Lyons nervously flinched. At that very moment, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was quite clear that she wasn't interested in him. She only saw him as a colleague to be tolerated and helping him improve his reading was just an altruistic act rather than a surreptitious excuse to get closer to him.

"Charlotte…I want to apologise," Thomas stammered and Miss Lyons looked at him in surprise.

"Apologise? Apologise for what?" she replied confused at his sudden declaration.

"For kissing you in the park," he replied, finally bringing up the elephant in the room, the one thing that they had both been avoiding for days. "I misconstrued yer feelings for me. I thought that thou felt t'same but I was wrong. I hope that thou can forgive me and we can be friends?"

Miss Lyons was taken aback by his words and didn't say anything but managed to silently nod her head. Thomas nodded back before busying with getting ready to go out, hoping to leave as soon as possible before his emotions got the best of him. Miss Lyons stood at the sink, her hands hanging in the water as Thomas bustled about, her heart pounding a mile a minute.

She never thought in all her life that she would be in this situation. She spent many years building a wall around her heart, thick and impenetrable. Now there was a slight crack in the mortar and a chink of light shined through. She was frightened but also fascinated by it. After all the years of fear and secrets and shame, she never thought she could feel this way about a man. She thought her heart was too damaged to even contemplate love. Something inside her, courage or recklessness, she was not quite sure which that made her call out "Thomas."

Thomas looked up from wrapping his scarf around his neck and Miss Lyons came over to him, water dripping from her hands. "You didn't misconstrue my feelings…I… do feel the same way as…you do."

"You do?" Thomas felt his heart begin to pound with joy, elated that she did want and enjoyed the kiss they shared in the park.

"It's just, I have never, never had a man being interested in me before," Miss Lyons stuttered, her cheeks blushing and lowered her eyes. "I have never been courted before."

Thomas reached out and lightly stroked her damp palm with two fingers. He could see that he needed to take his time, not rush things and scare her off. She looked up and her lips formed a little smile.

"Would thou like to go for a walk in t'park tomorrow?" he asked quietly and Miss Lyons nodded, still smiling.

"Yes, I would like that."

"Good," he replied as he headed towards the servants' entrance, reluctant to leave. "I'll back in a while, nut too late mind you."

Miss Lyons nodded and Thomas grinned before heading out into the wintry night. After finishing writing up her lesson plans, Miss Lyons spent the rest of the evening in the laundry room, ironing her freshly washed and dried clothes. She felt her lips staying in an elated smile as she pressed her shirtwaists. She didn't know what was happening to her, but she felt lighter, freer than she had ever felt before.

As she folded a pile of her drawers, she heard a noise coming from the servants' entrance door and she assumed that it was Thomas coming back from the pub. The door rattled a bit and Miss Lyons shook her head in amusement.

"Forgotten your key have you?" she called out and as she turned round to go to unlock the door for him, she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw a man standing in the doorway, dressed in a cape and top hat!

All the blood drained from her face and she immediately felt sick with fear at the sight of him. He must have picked the lock. It shouldn't have surprised her; he had picked her bedroom lock too many times to count.

Miss Lyons rushed for the laundry room door but he blocked her path with his brooding frame. He clamped her mouth with his gloved hand and twisted her arm behind her back. Pain shot through her back and she whimpered in pain and fear.

"Hello Lottie," his voice was calm and steely and her eyes widened as she recognised the voice and face. "It's been a long time eh? Why didn't you answer my letter? I just want to talk to you that's all."

Miss Lyons' heart pounded in her chest and she tried to pull his hand off her mouth but he clamped it tighter and twisted her arm again in his other hand. She whimpered as his grip tightened around her wrist like a vice. His breath reeked of alcohol and she knew that he had been at the gin again.

After a moment or two, he took his hand off her mouth and let her go. He knew that she wouldn't scream, she wouldn't dare.

"Please Bran. I, I, I was going to write, I, I promise." Miss Lyons' voice trembled as she took in his features. He looked exactly the same as he did the last time she saw him, though slightly unkempt. His piercing cold blue eyes bored into her as he walked towards her and she backed into the ironing board, her neatly folded clothes falling to the floor.

"I am not going to hurt you," Bran lifted his hand to her face and Miss Lyons immediately flinched. "You scared of me Lottie?" His lips formed into a cruel smile as he placed his hands on the ironing board either side of her, trapping her like Simpkin when hunting for mice.

"No," she whispered, her eyes wide with distress. She couldn't remember a time that she wasn't afraid of him. From the sharp pinching as a little girl to the cruel words whispered in her ear when she was an adolescent and worse of all him sneaking into her room at night where she didn't dare to move.

"You've got a nice little house here, a nice, la-di-dah family here Lottie. Must be paying you a handsome wage," Bran looked her up and down and sneered as he noticed the gold and amethyst brooch pinned at her neck.

"Yes, they are a very nice family. They are good to me." Miss Lyons tried to remain calm but her eyes kept darting to the door, praying that Thomas would come back.

"Yes… and a nice little footman beau to boot."

"I don't know what you mean Bran," Miss Lyons whispered as he leaned in, his eyes hardening and his eyebrows knitting together like storm clouds.

"Don't lie to me! That footman lad you have been gallivanting around with you shameless slut! I saw you and him in the park, kissing him like some common whore!" Bran shouted at her and Miss Lyons' eyes widened in horror at discovering that he had been following her.

"No, he is just a colleague," she gabbled quickly, "I told him I wasn't interested. Bran please believe me, there is nothing going on between us."

"I have decided that I am not going to let you get away with doing this to me, you understand?" Bran's voice was dark and seething with contempt. "I am not going to let you mess this all up."

"Bran please, there is nothing going on between me and Thomas, I swear."

"So now you are mocking me?!" he demanded and Miss Lyons panicked at his rising anger, like boiling water about to overflow its pot.

"No! Please Bran!" she begged desperately.

"I miss you Lottie," he suddenly quietened down. That was what terrified her the most, how his temper could change in the blink of an eye. "Home isn't the same without you. Come home, come home to me."

"I, I can't Bran. I, I have a job now."

"I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve and you are laughing in my face!" he demanded and instantly his temper switched again, just like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Two halves of the same coin.

"No, not at all!" she beseeched him. "Please Bran, I have left a pan on the stove, it's going to burn if I don't go to it! Please let me by. Please."

"Alright… you can go by," Bran relented and stepped away from her.

"Really?" she hesitated, eyeing him with suspicion. He had never let her walk away before.

"I get the message," he huffed and took another step back to let her pass. Miss Lyons started to go to the kitchen, hoping to make a run for it. Suddenly he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back! Miss Lyons yelped as she felt her hair almost being ripped out of her scalp!

"You really think I would let you go by!" he screamed into her ear. "You really think I will let you out of my sight for ONE second! Well you are WRONG! You're not going ANYWHERE! EVER! Do you understand! 'Cause you're mine Lottie! You will always be MINE! Am I right? AM I RIGHT!"

"Yes!" she whimpered as they stood over the ironing board.

"I CAN"T HEAR YOU!"

"YES!" she screamed back, her throat burning as if she had swallowed red-hot coals. At the corner of her eye, she saw the iron and suddenly she grabbed it and slammed it down on his hand resting on the ironing board! Bran screamed as the still hot iron seared the top of his hand and the stench of burning flesh filled the room.

"AAAHHH YOU BITCH!" he raged and punched her so hard that her neck snapped back and she collapsed to the cold flagstone floor. When she came round, she saw that Branwell was on top of her, his face contorted with rage. She had never fought back before and now she was going to be punished for daring to stand up to him.

"Somebody help me!" she called out and he clamped his burnt hand over her mouth and she almost gagged at the sight of the red, blistered, oozing flesh.

"You're really going to get it now," he seethed and started to undo the fly of his trousers.

"Please Bran, please stop, stop please!" Miss Lyons begged as he flipped her over onto her stomach and violently pulled up her skirts. She then went quiet. There was no use fighting or begging, it never worked. The pain was immeasurable and it seemed to last a lifetime, her trembling fingers slowly dragging down the cool flagstones as he brutally sodomised her.

She laid like a dead rag doll on the floor, tears silently trickling down her face as Bran eventually leaned back and buttoned up his trousers.

"You think you can change this? You think you can end it?" he sneered heartlessly, "well you are wrong and you want to know why Lottie? Because you love it, you always have and always will."

Miss Lyons' throat wobbled and started to sob gut-wrenching sobs.

"Come on you little pathetic slut! Don't you start the waterworks now!" he yanked her to her feet and pushed her aggressively towards the ironing board, ready for round two. Suddenly, something inside her made see red. In all the years of abuse and torment, she shied from confrontation, hoping that it make it end faster and be less brutal. But now instead of flight, her body decided to fight.

As if in a trance, she grabbed the iron and with a warrior like cry, hit him in the side of the head. Bran's eyes widened in shock and she hit his head again with more force. He fell to the floor and a second later he tried to get up. Miss Lyons yelled again and delivered one final blow to his head. She stood over him, lying on the floor where she had been a minute or so before, unmoving and unblinking.

Thomas whistled with happiness as he unlocked the servants' entrance door. He enjoyed his time at the pub with his other servant friends, but he made sure not to drink too much. He didn't want to undo all the progress with Charlotte by coming home completely drunk. As he entered the kitchen, he noticed that the laundry room was still lit and he smiled as he saw that she had waited for him to come back. With some Dutch courage in his belly and a yearning to kiss her, he opened the laundry room door. He immediately sobered up as he saw Charlotte silently standing over a man lying on the floor, his head in a pool of blood.

"Good God Charlotte!" he exclaimed as he rushed over to the man, "What 'ave thee done?" Charlotte, still staring into space dropped the iron, which clattered to the floor. Thomas leant his ear over Bran's mouth and then felt for a pulse. He looked up at her, his hazel-green eyes wide in absolute shock, his face white as alabaster.

"He's ….dead," was all he could say.