Chapter 56 – Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't:

"You're not going ANYWHERE! EVER! Do you understand! 'Cause you're mine Lottie! You will always be MINE!" Bran's words violently rang out and Charlotte suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, throwing off the covers as if she was pushing him off her! Her heart was in her mouth, heavily panting as it took a moment or two for her to realise that it had been a dream and that she was in her own room.

Charlotte ran her hand through her long, unkempt tresses as she regained a steadier pace of breathing. She got up and walked barefoot across the floor, the wooden floorboards creaking as she went to the little mirror above the fireplace. When she saw her reflection, the vain hope that she had disappeared, as she took in her heavily bruised eye, deep purple in colour. There was no chance of hiding it unlike her other injuries which stung every time she took a step.

Quietly and taking her time, she poured some water into the enamel washbasin. The cold water was barely tolerable as she carefully got washed and dressed, wincing every time a shot of pain emitted from her face or her backside. She looked at herself again in the mirror once she finished getting dressed. She watched her reflection and then wiped away the tear slowly rolling down her cheek. This was some mess that she had gotten herself in and she had no idea of how she was going to get herself out of it.

"Miss Lyons, Miss Lyons!" Annabelle gushed as she rushed into the schoolroom. The Porters had arrived back later that afternoon and Annabelle wanted to tell her governess everything as well as give her something that she had saved from the party.

"Take a seat Annabelle," Miss Lyons replied rather firmly, facing the blackboard away from her pupil. "Open your poetry book to page 37 and read out the piece please."

The firm, almost harsh tone stopped Annabelle from approaching her governess and quickly she sat down at the table. She was confused, Miss Lyons seemed angry with her. Did she do some thing wrong? Had she misbehaved? Annabelle read out the poem in a calm and steady voice whilst Miss Lyons continued to face away from her.

"Very good," Miss Lyons replied once the girl had finished. "Now I want you read again Tennyson's Ulysses and identify the basic meaning of the poem and then analysis it stanza by stanza.

"Miss Lyons… are you well?" Annabelle inquired, as her teacher was still not facing her, which was not her usual teaching style to say the least. Miss Lyons swallowed and slowly turned round to face her charge. Annabelle couldn't help but gasp at the sight of her poor governess with her heavily bruised eye.

"Miss Lyons!" she cried in shock. "What happened to your eye?!"

"It's nothing my dear. I was walking home last night after my poetry circle meeting and a man tried to steal my purse and when I fought back, I got hit in the face."

"Have you sought a doctor?"

"No. It won't look this bad for long."

"But it looks very painful!"

"It's not that bad and the swelling and bruising will go away in a week or so. Now back to Ulysses Annabelle if you may." Miss Lyons' voice was firm, indicating clearly to Annabelle that the matter was no longer to be discussed. Annabelle went back to analysing the poem but she couldn't help but worry over the state of her governess' face.

After the lesson was finished and once Annabelle had left the room, Miss Lyons had to stop herself from crumbling to the floor both in pain and despair. She needed to get out of here; she needed to get of this room as if the walls were closing in on her. She dashed downstairs and fortunately did not bump into her mistress and master. She hastened through the kitchen, ignoring Daisy and Mrs Griggs' side eyed glances and shocked whispers. She opened the kitchen door and the cold air hit her in the face like a stinging slap.

She saw that Thomas was also outside, tinkering away at the mangle which has stopped working that morning. He stopped working as soon as he saw her and her black eye. He wiped his dirty hands on a rag and came over to her. He stopped dead just before her, not knowing whether if she would want him to hug her or touch her in any way.

"Thou art shaking," he noted at her pale face and slightly trembling frame, which he deduced was from nerves rather than the cold air. He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a slightly battered packet of cigarettes.

"Here," he held it out to her and she pulled one out. Thomas took a small matchbox from his other trouser pocket, struck a match and then lit the cigarette for her. Miss Lyons, who had only tried a cigarette once many moons ago took a puff and started to cough and splutter.

"Take in a little less smoke," he advised her once she got her breath back. Charlotte nodded and took another drag, this time taking in less smoke and coughed a lot less.

"How art thou faring Charlotte?" he eventually asked once she got the hand of smoking the cigarette.

"A mess, barely holding it together." Charlotte replied after breathing out some smoke, "Annabelle has seen my eye and I am sure that she will tell her parents, so they will ask questions."

"They won't suspect anything. T'Porters will think that thee were mugged, nothing else. It's over Charlotte…he's gone…he cannut hurt thee no more."

"Yes…but he can still hurt me…in my dreams," Charlotte whispered and Thomas felt his heart break for her. If only he had stayed in the house that night. Why did he have to go the bloody pub with his friends? If he had stayed, then she would have been safe and maybe, just maybe they would have kissed again.

"Blackwell," Carson's voice sounded out and the pair spun round to see the old butler standing in the kitchen doorway, his face grave. "The Professor wants a word with you…in his study."

"Coming sir, let me wash my hands first," Thomas nodded and then glanced at Charlotte, his eyes silently telling her that he would never confessed to what happened the night before. Carson looked perturbed by Charlotte's eye but didn't have the chance to inquire as he had to escort Thomas up to the Professor's study.

"Ah Thomas, come in," Archimedes said as the young valet entered the study, followed by Carson. Thomas stood in front of the desk, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Archimedes to speak. Did he not clean the laundry room properly and the Professor had found a piece of incriminating evidence?

"It has been brought to my attention Thomas," Archimedes leant his elbows on the desk, pressed his fingertips together and surveyed Thomas over the top of them. "From Carson that during his checks he noted that the decanter containing my 25 year old single malt whiskey is not quite as full as it was before my family and I went away. I did not have a tipple myself before I left and Carson has been in my household for decades, so I have no reason to doubt him. You and Miss Lyons were the only ones in the house last night and I assume that Miss Lyons is not a whiskey drinker so Thomas….did you have some of the whiskey?"

"Aye," Thomas nodded, almost relieved that it was about the whiskey and not being discovered in the cover up of a dead body. "Aye sir."

"I knew it," Carson crowed, looking rather satisfied at catching the culprit red handed.

"Do you have an explanation for this Thomas?" Archimedes asked curiously. Thomas looked like a nice, respectable young man, not the sort of servant to be pinching things under the master's nose.

"It was for medicinal purposes sir."

"Medicinal?"

"Aye. Charlotte, I mean Miss Lyons was attacked on 'er way home last night by a pickpocket and suffered a reight nasty punch to t'face. She was in pain and shaking in shock so I gave 'er some whiskey, a couple of drams to ease t'pain and steady 'er nerves."

"It was more than a couple of drams!" Carson interjected crossly and Archimedes nodded at Thomas to explain himself.

"I admit that I had one missen as I was in shock too at t'sight of 'er, 'er face and what had happened to 'er. I apologise Professor Porter, I just thought that I was doing t'reight thing."

"Well thank you for bringing the issue up Carson," Archimedes looked at his butler, "but I don't think that any further action needs to be taken. Thomas was just tending to an injured colleague, as a gentleman should. How is Miss Lyons faring?"

"Still shaken sir," Thomas admitted truthfully and Archimedes looked concerned himself.

"What an awful thing to happen to Miss Lyons. I will send for a doctor to look at her eye if she so wishes."

"Thank thee Sir," Thomas nodded and Archimedes motioned for them to leave the study.

"The Professor may have overlooked this indiscretion, but don't think that I have. Consider this your first and final warning Blackwell," Carson hissed once the study door was closed before stomping back downstairs in a huff.

"Thomas," Charlotte called out quietly as she came up the stairs and stood in front of him on the landing. "What happened? What did the Professor want?"

"Nuthin'. He just wanted me to do some tasks that's all." He walked past her and headed up the stairs to the second floor. Charlotte sensing his deceit, hurried past him so that she reached the second floor landing before him.

"You're lying," she said as she blocked him at the top of the stairs. "Tell me the truth."

"Alreight, he wanted to know about t'depleted whiskey. Carson noticed when he was doing his checks."

"And? What did you say?"

"I told 'im t'truth, that I gave thee some for medicinal purposes."

"And?"

"T'Professor was fine with it and is willing to organise a doctor for thee. Carson told me though one more wrong step and I'm out. Cantankerous old fart!" Thomas cursed under his breath.

"This is all my fault," Charlotte breathed, feeling absolutely awful at the notion of Thomas almost getting sacked. Any other, less liberal employer would have given him the heave-ho without even a second thought.

"It's alreight," Thomas replied quietly and gently put his hand on her cheek. "I would do anything for you Charlotte."

"Oh my goodness!" Jane exclaimed as she came downstairs from the third floor and immediately Thomas pulled his hand back.

"Madam," Charlotte curtsied and Thomas slightly bowed.

"Your face!" Jane gasped as she took in the governess' black eye. "Annabelle told me what happened and I was going to see for myself. Your poor thing, I will send for the doctor immediately. You must have been scared stiff that night. Come and sit with us in the upstairs parlour. Thomas, go and fetch Dr Beardworth and from now on you will be chaperoning Miss Lyons whether or not she is taking Annabelle out, is that understood?"

"Aye Madam," Thomas nodded as Jane guided Miss Lyons back down to the first floor to where Tarzan and the children were playing in the upstairs parlour.

She sat stiffly in one of the armchairs whilst Jane served her a cup of tea. Charlotte clenched her jaw as Tarzan asked her a whole host of questions about what transpired the night before. She felt sick to her stomach as she told lie after lie to the Porters whilst flashbacks rushed through her mind. The smell of gin on Bran's breath, his shouting, her hand dragging down the flagstone floor as he raped her and finally the thud of the iron, blood spotting on the floor.

"Tarzan that's enough my dear," Jane noticed Miss Lyons' pale, perturbed face. "Miss Lyons has been through the wars already without your questions making her relive her horrific ordeal."

"Of course," Tarzan nodded at his wife, and turned back to Miss Lyons with a sheepish expression. "Please accept my most humblest apologies Miss Lyons. I didn't mean to cause you any further upset."

"Thank you Sir," Miss Lyons replied and then a knock sounded on the parlour door.

"Come in," Tarzan called out and Carson entered the room.

"Dr Beardworth has arrived Sir," Carson announced and stood to one side as the doctor entered the room.

"Thank you for coming Dr Beardworth," Jane said as she waved her hand at a little table to show the doctor where he could put his leather medicine bag.

"It's no trouble at all Mrs Porter," Dr Beardworth replied politely. "Now where is the patient?"

Jane motioned the doctor over to Miss Lyons and he carefully examined her face and eye. Miss Lyons tried hard not to flinch at his touch nor show any signs of revulsion at his slightly stale old man breath.

"I can concur that there is severe swelling and hematoma but there is no fracture of the eye socket and no issue with Miss Lyons' vision. She is one lucky lady, I keep saying that London streets at night are no place for well bred ladies."

"Yes quite," Jane nodded, a little put out by Dr Beardworth's comment. "And the bruising?"

"That will go down significantly in 10 or so days," Dr Beardworth added, "I recommend applying cold compresses to reduce swelling and I will prescribe an analgesic for the pain."

"Thank you Doctor," Tarzan nodded and then shook the doctor's hand in gratitude.

"Pardon me Sir, Madam," Carson came back into the parlour, "but dinner is ready to be served."

"Excuse us Dr Beardworth," Tarzan smiled politely. "We will leave you to pack up as we better get down to the dining room before Mrs Griggs blows a gasket!"

"Of course Sir."

After the Porters had left the room to go down for dinner, Dr Beardworth went over to his medicine bag and handed Miss Lyons a bottle of pills. "Aspirin, for the pain…are there any other injuries that you have acquired that require treatment Miss Lyons?" The implied look on his face made Miss Lyons instantly realise what he was referring to. Even though she was suffering greatly, she couldn't admit it to him. Even though he had taken the Hippocratic oath, she couldn't risk the chance of him telling her employers.

"No, just the face Dr Beardworth," she forced her mouth to make a little smile and Dr Beardworth seemed satisfied with her answer.

Later that evening, Miss Lyons was sitting down at the table in her attic room. A piece of paper, a pen and pot of ink was laid out in front of her, the blankness of the paper rather overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, she dipped the pen into the ink and started to write. When she was halfway down the page, a knock sounded on her door.

"Come in," she called out nervously as the knock suddenly jolted her from her focused concentration. The door opened and Thomas came in with her dinner on a tray.

"Yer dinner," he said quietly as he carefully placed the beef stew and dumplings down in front of her. Any other time she would be looking forward to tucking in, but now food presented absolutely no interest to her whatsoever.

"I'm not really hungry."

"Thou need to eat, regain yer strength - what's this?" Thomas asked as he saw the half finished letter on the table. It was addressed to Jane and although he was not particularly good at reading cursive, he could make out the word 'resignation'.

"Thomas," Charlotte started and then stopped. She had no idea of what to say to him.

"Thou cannut leave. Thou cannut resign!"

"How can I not resign? I have no choice."

"Of course thou 'ave a choice! Thou can stay here."

"How can I continue working here after everything that has happened Thomas? How can I look my mistress and master or Annabelle in the eye after what I have done?"

"It was nut yer fault Charlotte! Bran deserved what he got, thou were just protecting thissen. He cannut hurt thee no more."

"And how can I live in the same house, walk past the laundry room day after day knowing full well what transpired in there? No, I need to leave, I must leave."

"Where will thee go?"

"Probably to my sister Mary in Devon I suppose. I'm sure that I will find another governess position or teach at a local school."

"Please," Thomas' face looked almost heartbroken. "Please stay Charlotte."

"Thomas."

"I'm not asking, I'm begging. Please Charlotte, I cannut imagine being here without thee. I'll do anything for thee."

"I know and you have done far more for me than a woman could ever expect a man to do for them…but I cannot stay, not after everything that has happened."

"Please Charlotte," Thomas replied, feeling utterly hopeless. The thought of no longer being in her presence made his heart, his soul, even his bones ache. No woman had ever made him feel emotions both so exquisite and agonising as if he were a doomed lover in a Shakespearian tragedy. He grabbed her hands in his and immediately she pulled them away, as if she was repulsed by his touch.

"I'm so sorry Thomas," Charlotte breathed, struggling to hold back her tears. Thomas, not wanting her to see him cry, turned sharply on his heel and left the room with the door slamming behind him.

Charlotte sat down in her chair, trying to hold herself together, fighting the strong urge to attack her thighs again with her hidden razor blade.

"Yes!" Charlotte snapped loudly as a knock sounded on her bedroom door. She was in no mood for talking to a prying Mrs Fairfax or Martha. The door opened and Jane entered the room. At the sight of seeing her mistress, Charlotte jumped to her feet and curtsied.

"My sincerest apologies for being so brusque Madam."

"It's quite understandable for tempers to be strained during difficult times," Jane smiled kindly and Miss Lyons forced herself to make a little smile.

"I just came to see how you were faring," Jane continued, "and I just feel so awful about all of this."

"Madam?"

"As your employer, it is my responsibility to ensure the wellness and safety of my staff and I have failed in that regard. From now on Thomas will chaperone you to any of your social gatherings outside of work."

"Yes Madam. Thank you Madam," Miss Lyons nodded and there was an awkward pause between the two women. Jane wanted to hug her and provide her some comfort but held back, knowing that it would be somewhat unfitting for a mistress to embrace an employee.

"I hope that this incident has not put you off working in London," Jane added somewhat cautiously, "It is a city of so many sights but I do admit that it does have a dark side to it. I can understand if you wish to return to a more sedate town like Oxford…but I hope that you don't."

"Madam?"

"My husband and I are very glad that we have employed you, but especially Annabelle. A long time away from her home, family and friends is very trying for any girl and you have provided her with great comfort as well as being an excellent governess. She is always looking forward to your lessons and she is very fond of you, we all are very fond of you Miss Lyons. I just hope that you are still wanting to stay here and continue your work here."

"Madam," Miss Lyons started and then stopped. Had Jane seen the half written resignation letter on the table? Had she overhead her fight with Thomas? Her heart was being pulled in two different directions, she loved working for the Porters and teaching Annabelle but how could she stay after killing a man in their house?

"Here," Jane placed a little favour bag tied with a ribbon on the table. "Annabelle saved you some sugared almonds from Percy's party as she knew that you liked them. She would have brought them up to you herself but she felt that you wanted some alone time. She hopes that they will cheer you up, sweeten your mood if you will."

"Thank you Madam, Annabelle is a very considerate young lady…and I have no plans to go back home to Oxford."

"I'm glad," Jane replied and placed a comforting hand on Miss Lyons' shoulder for a second or two before quietly leaving the room.

Once the door was closed, Charlotte looked down at the sugared almonds and she started to silently weep. Her tears fell on the letter; the ink blotching and slowly the words became incomprehensible. She had made her choice, she chose to stay but she knew that her spirit would be crushed whatever path she had chosen and for that, in that moment she was inconsolable.