"Run Thomas, faster!"
"I am... " the boy said out of breath.
Lucille stopped to wait for her brother, and then she helped him to climb into the service tray and started to pull the rope as fast as she could. It made it to the top. Thomas was safe but she would not make it. She ran looking for a place to hide as the steps on the stairs sounded even closer. The bathroom on the second floor was her only chance, definitely the wrong place, too late to realize it.
She was in trouble and her luck was just escalating worse. Her mother may have heard the piano, it was impossible to miss the twang of the notes from the main gate. In her best luck, they might confound the sound with the wind whistling through the house.
Her parents had been out of the manor and of course she had taken advantage. It was the beginning of winter and the children had made it out of the house for the first time in the year. The summer had been long and inclement. Inside the manor the hot was unbearable and the house rotten smells stuck into their noses for the interminable days of confinement. The children's' days were scheduled around the morning and afternoon lessons, so Lucille and Thomas had to be all dressed up, the presence of the tutor imposed and restricting.
She had welcomed the nights, when they were left by themselves, and at last they could shed from the layers of clothes to fresh their bodies a little. Mr. Sutton had been unyielding, and Lucille had developed aversion toward the man, and also an outstanding ability to conceal her feelings from him. At least Thomas had been allowed to stay in the nursery, as long as he remained silent and quiet in the room. Keeping himself out of view was not an easy task for a young child, but the tutor insisted he must avoid causing distractions on his sister's education. He was a quiet boy already, but he was not used to solitude, he didn't like to be alone. The man used to be easy with the stick, but now he had changed his technique, using the affinity between the children to punish Lucille. Sometimes the man had complained of Thomas behavior in front of their mother, others he had sent him out of the room with one of the maids. Lucille would preferred the stick, she could bear it, but the man took a sadistic pleasure in torture her by the suffering of her defenseless little brother. Misbehaving was not tolerated by her mother.
Thomas never objected, nor denied, nor defended himself against whatever the man accused him. Confrontation was not in in his soul. Lucille didn't knew what tore her more, when mother had used the cane to beat Thomas in front of her, or when she was stuck in the nursery with the hideous tutor, unable to see the punishment that her mother was giving Thomas in the floor below. If she could she will beg for him, to spare him of the beat by taking his place instead, but how can she if they were separated like that. Most of the times, when they were left alone, she had inspected the boy's body looking for wounds, frequently she had found none, just the reddish cheeks and face, and his shirt so wet in tears. If not being beaten, why he trembled so much? He sometimes woke up in the nights screaming, crying. He had cried even during the day, pleading Lucille not to leave him alone.
Finally the season changed, greeting them with the news of the tutor departure. He wanted to avoid being trapped in Allerdale for the winter. The young Sharpes wanted the same, so they welcomed the dark, cold days to come, just because of the restricted freedom they were gaining back.
Mr. Sharpe had traveled and had returned on the second week of December. Through Adelaide, they got into the knowledge that there will be a party in Westlake Haven, the state belonging to Phineas Bolton and his family. The occasion was nonetheless the celebration of the engagement between the younger of the Bolton's' heirs and the second niece of Sir Adam Barnes, another union to consolidate the Bolton & Barnes lineage and the prosperity of the family business partnership. The banker families were as wealthy as well known in Cumbria, and the Sharpes were among its oldest clients. This information would be of no use to Lucille except for the implication that Mister and Mrs. Sharpe might be invited to attend.
"Did you think we may go with them?" the boys asked his sister.
"Don't get illusions, Thomas. Besides, wouldn't be better to have the place to ourselves? We can do something, anything!"
"Like what?" A curious brow shift a little up, while its pair remained frowned in concern, for there wasn't safer place than the nursery, if any, or at least when there were only the two of them.
"Explore! Maybe... the basement" she put effort in made it sound interesting.
"That place is scary, I don't want to go" he shook his head in negation.
"How do you know? You had never been there."
"It goes down to the pits of hell"
"Thomas, where have you got those ideas?" The girl said
"Mother" the boy said in resignation.
"Mother" of course, mother, "What did she say to you?"
She said... that...," - the next words left his mouth in a single exhalation, rushed one after the previous like droplets of water flowing in a frantic stream - "...that I'm bad and I'll got to the pits of hell with father- Do you think he has been there?" She noticed his tone, he was not joking about it.
"No Thomas, I think she only tried to scare you. How can she know anyway?" She switched from her childish expression to her confidant, older sister's voice.
"She is older" He stated as a matter of fact.
"Nana said that there is only the clay pits down there, and she is even older than mother"
"Why is it there?" the boy asked.
"To keep the house from flooding"
"I don't want to go there, it's scary" he insisted.
"Don't be foolish Thomas, I'll be with you. I thought you wanted to see the elevator moving."
"I want... not" he said with hesitation.
How the box moved up and down without being pulled - unlike the service tray - was a mystery he wanted to discover, but...
He had been there already. Mother had put him inside, closed the door and gave him the insightful words about the pits of hell. Just like that, the object of his fascination was transformed into in a cage and he was inside, trapped. His mother has left him there alone as a punishment. She said he will be out when he stopped to cry. He did, he couldn't make a sound and he was terrified. He was not alone in the elevator. Lucille knew he had been punished when he walked into the nursery in silence, his face swollen and red. He had curled in the bed, sucking his thumb, a bad habit he had got recently. Lucille knew not of the elevator incident, Thomas didn't speak of it. He didn't want to remember it.
Lucille noticed the distress in the boy's face.
"OK, forget the basement. What about out of the house, I'll welcome a change of scenery, if only for a moment."
"Can we?" He said, now with interest, his fears fading back into his hidden memories.
"But, What if mother knows?"
"She won't, I won't allow us to be catch!" She was most reassuring.
"But..."
"Enough with the babbling, I'll fall deaf listening at your weeping! A boy too delicate and a girl too gauche, is this my penitence?!" Lucille said making a mockery of her mother's voice and posture. Though she couldn't hold her laugh and rolled in the floor holding her stomach. Thomas laughed with her, and Lucille was glad to bring a smile in the boy instead of the haunted expression he couldn't help upon the mention of their mother.
"If she knows we laugh of her I'll will be left in a corner praying for a whole day, you too probably. Without food or even allowed to go to the bathroom" She said.
"I would be nice for a change, though." She added in a very low voice, almost to herself. Her eyes now fixed upon one of the ceramic figures on the dresser. A pair, a woman and a man in fine clothes, wedding clothes. Her brother noticed and sat next to her.
"What would be nice?" He asked, prompting her to speak up her mind.
"To be out of this place…maybe go with them to the party?"
"Party?"
"Yes Thomas, it's a party when people gather for a celebration, like a wedding or a birthday. There will be food and all people dressed in elegant clothes, and music for sure and they will dance"
She had outgrown her childish fears toward new, unknown things or people, curiosity had replaced it and the certainty that the world was bigger than Allerdale manor and there was much more to discover outside. After all, her mother had told her thousand times that she will die and what Lucille will do by herself if she cannot be married properly to someone who will take care of her. She didn't want to be married for once, or leave far away without Thomas. She needed no one to take care of her, she could do that by herself and she also cared for Thomas already. But to learn the ways of the world out there was something she needed to, and for that at least to bear the tutor lessons had a purpose. Still, she wished to be able of seeing and experiencing things for real.
"Have you, ever?"
"Yes, and you too. There was party here in Allerdale for your birthday. I remember a ball. The gowns, the gentleman and the ladies gliding through the room"
"But I cannot remember" The boy said with disappointment.
Thomas had been only a year old, so he didn't remembered. Neither could he believe that anything like Lucille was describing had happened ever in Allerdale, even less to celebrate him. No one came to their house to visit, except the doctor that checked on him from time to time.
He looked thoughtful, taking a box of old pictures from the last drawer. The pictures were handmade drawings in black ink. He watched them, familiar to the ragged edges of the yellowish cardboard pieces. He sorted them until he found the one of the woman dancing barefoot, a plain shirt and skirt, a plate holding on her hand and above her head. This was not what she spoke about, he thought then on the fairy tale dances, of course, where the princess married the common lady, making her a princess, and they had a royal wedding with a royal ball in the castle, and they danced together for all the reign too see they were happy, as it should had be from the beginning, and they lived happily ever after. There were no pictures of such a ball, he made the images on his mind from the tales and stories tell him by Nana, and Adelaide, and Lucille. And then he remembered the play, or at least pieces of it.
"Like the play?" At least he could remember that, he thought, the only memory he had from out of Allerdale. The only happy memory he had with both his parents.
"No, no like the play, that was pretend, this is for real. The gentleman asks the lady, offering his hand with a courtesy, and he guides her to follow the steps in the dance floor, holding her close" She held the ceramic figures to him. It was a trinket from her parent own wedding, Nana had said.
The boy's sight diverted to his sister, but she was not looking at him. Then he stood up, advancing slowly to her, his back straight.
"Would you dance with me?" His eyebrows raised and two dimples appeared in his cheeks when his lips pressed close, only allowing half a smile.
He made a courtesy, as he had seen the tutor does when he accompany her mother to have the tea in the inner yard.
She watched the extended hand in front of her eyes, the upper half of his body bent a little too much in a courtesy. In his gentle face she found a hidden smile, just there on the right hand corner of his mouth, upon his lips. Like Wendy's mother hidden kiss. But this one was hidden just for her.
"Of course Sir Thomas, I am delighted" She place her hand on the boys little one.
"My lady, is it my pleasure" He offered the full smile then and she smiled too.
They danced like children do, more a play than a real dance. They twirled and twirled around the room until they got dizzy and collapsed to the floor, laughing some more.
/\/\/\/\
It was not until end of January when the occasion finally arrived. The Masters of Allerdale left the house late in the afternoon. The children were left behind, because the weather was not suitable. That was what the mother said. They saw the carriage departing form the nursery window. And so their escapade will begin, they just had to wait a little more.
Adelaide had fallen asleep. Her room was now in the ground floor. When the old maid was removed from the nursery, she had keep a room in the guest floor to be close to the children, but with the presence of Mr. Sutton, the Mistress have her moved back to her old quarter in the ground floor near to the laundry yard. As usually, she had checked on the children after they had the supper, and to her best surprise both fell asleep early. She usually gave them a last check before going to bed herself later on, but they were asleep already and she could use some early rest too. It was not unusual that the Mistress required tea late in the evening when she was unable to sleep, waking up Adelaide in the process. But the masters where out, and who knew if they will return later or until the next day. The old woman relaxed when she saw the little ones dreaming like angels, so she left the room locking the door behind her. She never had agreed with this practice, but she knew not to question the Mistress commands, instead she did what she could to ensure that the children were safe while they were in the nursery on their own. During the day, Adelaide walked up and in several times to check on the children, but again, tonight they were asleep and she was particularly tired. The years were not turning graceful in her and she was tired and ran out of breath frequently.
The truth was the children were not asleep. They were very convincing and almost fell asleep for real, well at least Thomas. Lucille counted to two hundred, just in case. She wanted to be sure that Adelaide was downstairs and in her room. One hundred and ninety two, one hundred and ninety three... one hundred and- "Thomas?"- one hundred and ninety four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, two hundred!"
"Wake up Thomas, wake up, it is not the time to sleep" She tugged on the boy's night shirt.
"Mmnot sleeepin" the boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his hands.
"Of course you are not, Tom, Tom the piper's son". That would do the trick.
"Uh?... stole a pig and away he run!" He picked the blanket and ran out of the bed, Lucille chasing after him.
"Caught!" she yelled in victory, and she smiled to the laughing boy in her arms.
He hugged her back, as a child will hug his favorite teddy bear.
"Let's go, Thomas"
The children had sneaked out suited on coats and shoes, following Lucille's plan. They made it to the kitchen and used the back door to get out, it was the shorter way. Outside everything was covered in a white layer of snow, and they were perplexed to watch it from a closer perspective. They had seen the snow over the landscape from afar, through the windows. They had touched it - some snow piled up on the windowsill - and put it in their mouths to feel the ice melting in their tongues. And Lucille...
When the snow had fallen outside like rain, some of it sneaked inside the house, coating a small spot in the middle of the main hall, melting in a puddle. The mistress had complain of it so many times and Nana had cleaned it uncountable times. From the center of the main hall one can look up and around and see the magnificence of the manor's structure, the stairs connecting the floors, twisting to one side and the other like the bowels of a beast. The snow passes through a hole in the roof where the wood had started to decay. It had been there since Lucille got memory. In a stormy winter night, Lucille had stood in the same spot, below the faint rays of moon shine that found his way to the ground floor. She had seen the snowflakes like feathers floating in the air, falling gracefully all the way down, landing on her face, melting to the touch of the skin, cold but tender. There was beauty hidden in the dour scenarios of the manor, but none was aware of it, it unfolded only to her. A different kind of beauty existed in the decadence, only to be seen in the darkness.
Outside the house it was so dark, but Lucille was not afraid of the dark. And Thomas, he didn't have chance to fear in his excitement. For reason one, he was with his sister, his eternal guardian and protector, and for second it was the thrill of the novelty. It was for the first time that the children walked over the snow, so much snow. They could not avoid the need to run freely all over the place, allowing their shoes to sink up burying their legs up to the calves. They threw snow to each other, discovering the fun of snowball fights. Their hands freeze until they hurt, so they put them in their coats' pockets until they could move their fingers again. Though, that didn't deter them from keep playing, chasing after each other. They didn't bothered by the footprints they left, the snow will keep falling and it will cover them anyway. Time passed unaware, but it was still dark when they entered back in the house, they walked by the big living room where the chimney was. Thomas stopped suddenly, gazing at the wall of rock, the arch with the symbols carved on it. Lucille knew they were words in a different language, Latin, the tutor had said. She could read English, but that she can certainly not understand those words nor pronounce them. The same words were written in the Sharpe family crest, embroidered on a tapestry in her father's studio.
"Let's go Thomas," Lucille said, but the boy was immobile. When she held him, she noticed he was shaking.
"You are trembling, it must be the cold. Let's go upstairs to warm up". But the boy only pointed to the hearth.
"There is nothing there Thomas, let's go" She pulled his arm to make him move.
A noise made her stop. Outside, a carriage was approaching.
"Wait, wait here Thomas, and don't move" She ran toward the main gate, climbing in one of the stand tables to see through one of the windows. A carriage indeed was approaching to the main gate and it could only be her parents.
When she climbed out to fetch Thomas she heard the piano, the notes sounding loud in disarrangement. Thomas what are you doing!
She had only advanced three steps toward the hall when Thomas came running out from the place. He looked scared, and embraced her but she stopped him in his intent to seek comfort, there were more urgent things to worry about.
"We need to be up, come on" She grabbed the boy's hand and ran dragging him through the stairs.
"Hup hup, Whoa!" the voice sounded loud, a man's voice. It' was Jory, commanding the horses to stop
More voices, they turned into an undistinguished chatter while the children hurried upstairs. They had just reached the second floor when the main door opened, and the echo of the voices became louder and clear again.
"I'm sure it was the piano" A woman's voice, mother.
"It must be the wind. You're only looking for an excuse to avoid my question" Father's.
"The wind must be. I'm just much tired and freezing. Why don't you refresh yourself while I'll pour some warm tea?" Of course she intended to ask Adelaide for the tea, and of course Arthur noticed her dodging, and her plotting for an evasive action. She hadn't acknowledged his inquire yet.
"I think not, I'll go to bed, I'm tired too" he said feigning to drop the topic.
"I'll will join you in no time then, let me fetch some blankets"
Lucille heard the footsteps walking up stairs and they ran like the devil was after them.
"Run Thomas, faster!" On the floor above Lucille hurried her brother in a desperate whisper.
"I'm.. !" the boy struggled to keep his breath.
Mrs. Sharpe walked down the hall and opened the linens closest; she picked up an extra blanket and motioned toward the third floor. She decided to check on the children, but she had forgotten the keys ring, anyway the nursery's door was locked, as she confirmed. Maybe Arthur was right, the east wind used to make chirping sounds, a reverberating howl that can be confused with a child crying or a piano moaning its notes while being hit viciously.
She was really tired, the ride back had been cold, and the effect of the three glasses of wine she had took still lingered. Still the prospect of having sex and fell asleep fully relaxed was enticing, but Arthur had drunk without measure, barely holding his composure at the party, she knew he will be no use for her in that estate. She'll take a bath, a long one to give him time to fell asleep first. She didn't want the few enjoyment of today to be ruined by her hard headed husband.
Walking across the hall she stepped on something. It felt slippery under her shoes, a few drops of water spilled, close to the main bathroom. Probably Adelaide had dropped something and didn't notice. The old woman was getting messy, it was becoming more frequently that a bucket or a tray fell from her hands. She would prefer the woman to be removed from Allerdale, her sister too, older Nana was stronger build for work but she had a galloping hearing loss. The pair of old owls will soon need to be taken into care, for they won't be of any help if they could not do the house chores. She didn't deny that they had, for years, performed their work relentlessly, devoted to care for her, guarding with their silence the unveiled ails of her body and mind, from the many days of solitude and hardships. She will talk Arthur into find a suitable replacement; send the women to spend their senile years at their home with their family. She knew they had younger siblings, Adelaide had never married, and Nana and Abbott had never had children of their own. Arthur had a fondness for the lot, as they had been in Allerdale since before he was born, in some ways he spoke about them as they were family, fool sentimental. They respected her as their Mistress and kept themselves according to their station, and Agnes respected them in return for that. But they were servants no more no less, that was the way of life as she had been taught, ladies don't mingle nor befriend with the servants. This, her father had also taught, a lady should keep her distance and decorum, a gentleman too. That she could vouch, that her father never, ever laid eyes on the house maids, less another part of his body, unlike Arthur.
With all his name and title Arthur could be such a vulgar man, she doubted not that he still frequented brothels, the less respectable ones. While mourning of her second child, she had been warned about men's infidelity by Lilly, Lillian Wright, back then when she received infrequent social visitors in Allerdale. Lillian had become aware of his husband's - second husband at that time - infidelity with a high class woman from London. The wench was a recently married 'lady' that had taken to spend the summers with her family in Carlisle. They had tried to keep a secret affair, but he had passed away in an unfortunate accident. Lillian had never the opportunity to confront him about her discovery, or that she had told Agnes. To the public eye, he had died an honorable man. That were the ways of people of society, scandal must be avoided at any cost.
Arthur Sharpe was cut from a different kind, he had a title, 'Baronet', inherited from his great grand grandfather or so, but he never was addressed like that in Allerdale. Only those that didn't know him referred him as 'Sir'. He had the regal the posture of a man of nobility, schooled to engage in rationale conversation, elegant manners one would desire in a lover, polite and fair in manners toward others, but mercurial. With the right trigger, usually alcohol, he could switch to a loud brawler, prone to skirmish, and fist fights. That had made him a man of few friends. Those that had met his father had once hoped that the wife will mother the spoiled brat into a grown up man. They had lost hope eventually, a shame to his father memoir. His circle of acquaintances ranged the entire spectrum from tolerance to indifference, liking him more or less, or not at all. The women instead, all of them dreamed to be in Agnes shoes. A blend between charm and masculinity, they had commented. - "How come you allow him to travel so far, I'll go with him every time" - She wanted that too. In the party she had engaged in women's idle chat, they had spoken about men of course, and she had enjoyed it, until the spotlight turned on her husband. They used words like 'handsome' and 'gentleman' to refer him. She got bored quickly, found an excuse to disentangle herself from the conversation, she had different thoughts about her 'handsome gentleman' husband. He could be a gentleman when he wanted, but he never wanted it with her, for her.
Engaged in her thoughts she diverted from her initial destination, and walked instead into the bathroom. A hot bath would be appreciated by her body as she was chilly. Arthur had 'decided' to return early, cutting her from her only moment of freedom in a long time. It was expected of him to attend with his whole family, after all the Bolton's were people that valued family on first hand. Arthur thought it will benefit Lucille to be exposed to these settings. Of the boy he told nothing, but Agnes had convinced him that the children could be easily excused for their early age and the harsh weather.
She has not felt so alive in years. She had danced and engaged in normal talk, with normal people. How she had missed that, she used to watch the parties that her family used to hold before her mother had died, and even after, there had been several more to present her sisters in society, followed by engagements and weddings. Now that seemed so far away, her life had been ruined and buried, reduced to that gloomy manor in that abandoned piece of land in the end of the world. The reception had been lovely, the place magnificent exulting opulence, the food exquisite, and the music eloquent, she even had danced with several gentlemen, all in the good spirit of high society class. She wanted to dance with her husband as soon as the music started, "Let's wait, there is no hurry, go speak with the ladies and blend first, don't you want to give a wrong impression to these fine gentlemen". Arthur was a great dancer, but the night advanced and she doubted his reflexes would remain as fine. He would, if he had not drinking as he was, and his feet were not a little stumbling. She better abandoned the idea of dancing, to save herself from an embarrassment. It had been Mr. James Barnes the bride's father, that asked her first to dance, of course she accepted, otherwise it would be rude. But as soon the piece had ended another gentleman had asked her. She enjoyed herself, while her husband stood with other men speaking of business and men jokes. He was laughing, and speaking too loud for her taste. She decided to ignore it, most probably he will end up making a fool of himself, so she would enjoy while she could before get into everybody's target of gossip on account of Arthur unplanned stupidity. It came as predicted, for he had eventually approached and grabbed her by the arm, a little too firm, impeding her to accept another invitation and speaking like a prick to the startled man.
"She is not in disposition to dance the next piece!"
Then he walked her out, without allowing her an option. She pretended to feel indisposed for real, when their host, Mr. Bolton himself caught them at the door asking why they had to leave so early.
Arthur had been quiet in the ride back, throwing looks at her, sipping from his pocket tin of whiskey. She remained silent. The only noise that could be heard was the wind whistling against the carriage, the horses' steps and the occasionally clucking and smooching of Jory commanding the horses.
/\/\/\/\
Arthur was not on the bedroom when she entered with the blankets. The discarded tin on the floor was empty. He probably went to the studio to fetch more liquor. He can drown himself downstairs if he wanted so, with good luck he will fall asleep in a couch, she didn't care as long as he find a place other than next to her. She grabbed a night gown and went to the bathroom.
Lucille had hid there, unfortunately she had not noticed that the snow over her coat had melted and dripped on the floor below her. Her mother had entered in the bathroom, and a few seconds later her father had follow. He approached her mother, suddenly twisting her in a single pull of his arm.
"What? Arthur wait!"
"How curious, I told you 'that' before you took the liberty to dance with a total stranger" His tone was accusing and condemnatory.
"You ignored me since we arrived, Arthur. I only asked you to dance as couples do... Did I better refuse Mr. Bolton or Sir Richard or Roy Jr. Barnes? I don't think that rejecting them would looked polite at all"
"So you have a list, but you know is not them I'm speaking about!"
"Let's better go to bed Arthur, you clearly drank too much tonight"
"Who. Is. Him?!"
"Chopin Waltz in A-flat major, a beautiful piece and most joyful, perfect for this merry gathering, don't you think my Lady?" - "A jolly waltz, it's perfect indeed" - "Ah, but a perfect waltz requires of course, a perfect dance companion, Would you be mine?" The man had bowed his head in a curtesy, offering his hand to her. -"But I'm afraid Sir, we have not been introduced" -"Karl Ritmüller, my Lady, but my friends call me Charles." There was something mysterious an appealing in the man. She glanced toward Arthur, who was clearly not paying attention to her. She will not remain thrown at a side, so she conceded. -"Well then Charles, it will be my honor." They had dance three, not, at least five pieces, and they had talked a while. His family was doing business on England; they were craftsmen of musical instruments. They had a common topic of conversation, for he did appreciated music and played the piano himself. She had not cared if he was a royal heir or a disowned twelve son of a broken banker. She had felt so lively, like a butterfly stepping out of her cocoon, flapping his delicate and colorful wings for others to see.
"I don't now Arthur, but sure you do, you are the one that travels all the time. You have right to a normal life, be part of society and attend to elegant parties. Who knows how many 'ladies' you have taken to dance and then sweet talk to a dark empty corner to fornicate"
"Enough!"
"That I said to you! If you really want to know, his name is Karl and he is a really good dancer. It could have been be you, dancing with me, enjoying the night. But it was you, as always, who threw it away, and now are you jealous? Unbelievable"
"It's that what you wanted, to make me jealous, in rage? Well I'm now, so deal with it" He grabbed her by the wrist, before her hand collided with his face.
She had dared to raise her hand against her, again. He slapped her back with all his strength. The wrist being held by him was the only thing impeding her to fall to the floor completely.
"Please stop!" She pleaded.
He slapped her, again.
"You dirty whore" He let her wrist go with a push.
Agnes stumbled and tried to get out of his way, but he pinned her and she fell next to the bath tub. He grabbed her, but not to help her up, his hand pulling down the dress corset to reveal her breast.
"No Arthur, please" She was silenced by his mouth.
He bit her, her lips, her neck, and her exposed white breast.
"I'll take you where I want and when I want on this house, and you will concede either you want it or not. Haven't I told you this before? And yet you make me repeat myself again and again. But I know you want this, don't you? Greedy whore, I'll give what you want."
He lifted her dress skirts and untied his pants.
"I found your little toy, you know" he said penetrating her painfully. She felt sore as he started to pound on her merciless, holding her arms against the cold floor.
"It is that any better than me, does it pleasure you, Oh no! You want a real man, right? Well I want you to picture this, cause it's me, me not 'Karl' or anyone - me, the only one you are allowed to feel, not even yourself. Does this excite you, whore? That you are, a whore, aren't you. Now say it!"
"Please"
"Please what, stop?" He stopped.
"No, please don't- stop" She was about to reach her orgasm, she was used to this, to him taking her like this, rough, uncaring, cruel. She didn't wanted it, but her body was tamed beyond repair, this was the ultimate way in which she gained pleasure, and now she was on her peak. The pain on her cheek, on her body, all forgotten just for a moment, the moment when adrenaline and lust combined. She craved for it, for him, to deny it was a lie. He had conditioned her to accept this, and to enjoy it, and for that she hated him. She will hate him more for this, later, but right now she needed him.
"You slut, you don't deserve it. Is that what you thought while moving with him, that it could be he and not me fucking you! No. I don't like to be played fool, Agnes. You should have learned that by now. But don't you worry, I'll remind you, one way or another you will learn."
With that he pulled off her and finished himself in front of the toilet one hand against the wall to make him steady, the other bringing his excitement to an end. He cleaned himself with a towel and buttoned his pants leaving her on the floor, her body in need of the denied release. It was for her humiliation, and she remained on the floor, rolling to a side, tears rolling on her eyes, until... she saw the water... footprints, small footprints indeed.
She stood up, fixing her dress and wondering why there was water here too.
Lucille was trembling behind the bin, with her eyes closed and her arms wrapping her knees toward her chest. She was pulled so hard that her feet didn't touch the floor, and then she was hold against the wall.
"You were... watching, spying on me, you little slut"
"I watched nothing mother, I swear" It was partially a lie; she had seen things, them yelling at each other, her father slapping her mother, her father... She had shut her eyes tight in fear, not of the exchange, that was not out of normalcy, but the thought of being discovered by her parents, that was something to be scared about. She had seen another thing, though she didn't knew what she had seen.
It hurt as hell when she was forced by the stairs pulled by the hair. Her mother was in a new level of fury that was not motivated by finding her outside the nursery. It was for what she has witnessed, she knew, she was so confused. She had seen her mother partially naked before, but her father, this was different. She was afraid and she didn't understand, she only knew her mother was in rage and she will be punished. In the nursery, she was thrown hard against the bed. Thomas peeped out from below the sheets to see her mother pulling up Lucille's dress, hitting her with the cane. He had tried to step on.
"Mother please, stop" He tried to hold her arms just to be showed off.
That made his mother went against the boy. He was not so small anymore, but thin as a thread, and prone to get sickness and allergies. She pulled the boy on her lap and landed two strokes on her bare bottom. The third one went into Lucille's cheek, not hard enough to break the skin as the girl had clung to her arm stopping the force of the strike. It will not leave a mark hopefully.
"So you will stand for him? Then it will be, stupid girl. You better learn early not to stand for any man; they won't deserve it, none of them!" She released Thomas to get Lucille in position against the bed, and hit forceful three more strikes.
"You are a sinner. Did you enjoy it, watching? I bet it's not the first time you do it," One blow.
"I'll get to know how you make it out as you pleases" Another.
"You and your brother will not share the bedroom any more. I won't allow you to drag him into your sinful actions" The last blow was even harder.
Lucille was knelt on a corner facing to the wall.
"Now pray for your redemption, if that is possible. Speak up aloud!"
She repeated the payers, tears rolling down, while her mother had drag Thomas to the nursemaid room locking the door with him inside. After what had feel a long time, more than ten prayers and two more strikes of the cane against her back, her mother left at last, locking her on the room the children used to share. She didn't move this time. For all the strength she always had, there was left none that night. For once, she gave free range to her child instincts and cried loud and teary. She slept herself crying. Thomas also cried, he could hear his sister cries, and he too cried loudly, calling to his sister name until his throat hurt and his voice fainted. She was in pain, and she only could think on what her mother was said, she and Thomas will have separate rooms from now on. She will die for sure, locked up, alone. And Thomas, he was not strong enough, without her he will die even faster.
It was late at night when Lucille woke up to a noise in the window.
"Thomas!" He was trembling, his hand knocking the glass. She let him in and hugged him hard.
"I'll take care of you, he said. Mother is so bad"
"Oh, Thomas, you shouldn't" But he should take care of his sister, he thought, he must.
"You shouldn't have touched the piano keys, you didn't obey me. If you had walked up when I told, nothing of this would happened" He was devastated and the guilt shock him right away. It is my fault. I was...but I didn't play the piano, it was... Tears rolled again, he talked between breaths, hyperventilating.
"I saw... something, in the... hall, it was...a sha..dow " He was unsure to speak, being his claims already dismissed by Adelaide in more than one occasion.
"A shadow?"
"Of a b...oy" His voice trembled.
"Thomas, this' an old house, there are shadows everywhere. You must not fear, not the house at least"
"But it was a boy in the hall..." a loud sniff, his nose leaked to add to the mess of his face.
"It couldn't be Thomas, it was your own shadow" But the boy's thoughts where running, It was the shadow of the boy. The boy from the elevator. But it is not real, not real, it was my own shadow. It was me, I was afraid... I am. It is my fault. He sobbed even more, unable to stop the tears, for the pain he had caused upon her sister.
"I'm sorry Lucille! I'm so sorry" The boy's state broke her heart; she cuddled him in her arms, cleaning his little face with the corner of the blanket.
"It's it not your fault Thomas. You are a little child, you don't know things, but I know because I'm older. Promise me to always do as I say"
"I promise" He said between sobs.
Lucille looked out of the window and saw there was ledge which Thomas had used to walk by. It was not narrow but the ice made it slippery. How was he able to pass through? He could have fallen from the roof, he could have died, but he had come to her. He who was always scared, of mother, of father, of the big paints in the second hall, of the animals in the trophy room, of Mr. Sutton, of the wind making noises, of the house, and now of his own shadow. She should not had blame him, she was not right; it was not his entire fault. She should not hide in the bathroom, but where else? It was closer. She had been unfair, but after that he had overcome his fears just to be with her. It was her own insecurity that had spoken and she regretted it, she didn't want to be in separated rooms, she would found another way to be together, she must. But now she will take care of him, her precious boy.
"I'm sorry, for yelling, I was just angry, I.. never, I won't"
"Are you angry with me? "
"I could never be angry with you, I love you. I'm angry with mother, she should not beat you, it's not right"
"She beat you most"
"Don't you worry about me, I can take it. Come, you are freezing. Take off those clothes," she said taking a night shirt from a drawer. He undressed and she could see the two red lines crossing her brother's bottom.
"Does it hurt you?" She asked.
"Uh hum"
"Take these clothes" The boy discarded the clothes she handed him and climbed under the bed covers. Lucille went after him, grabbing the clothes. After tonight, she was sure that if mother caught any of them in such nudity, she would kill them for sure.
"Dress up Thomas, please"
"Let me see where you are hurt" He said, pulling at his sister clothes.
"OK" She lied on the bed face down and lifted her nightgown to reveal five lines on her bottom, and two more on her back.
"Was she so mad for the piano?"
"It doesn't matter now"
"It was... all my fault!" Tears clouded his eyes again, threatening to be spilled.
"No Thomas, it's not your fault. She never knew you went outside. I was... I just saw her and father... and she said it is a sin for a woman or a man watch each other if they are not blessed in marriage" The boy looked puzzled, until she signal to his private parts. "We are in sin now Thomas, we have always been".
"NO" Thomas said, "She is wrong. I'm... I'm your baby brother, am not?" The boy face was red, the nose leaking uncontrollably.
"I don't care" she said, and the boy's eyebrows rose. "I don't care what she tells. Sin or not, I'll love you always, but if she found us like this she will send me faraway. She said that we will have separate room now own"
"I don't want to be in a separate room, I will..I will escape and go to you!" They boy said with determination, his tear diminishing.
Lucille's spirit was settling, as usually she regained strength with the presence on the boy, her little Thomas. That her mother could never take away from her.
"I'll never allow to be separated from you. I'll do whatever is needed"
"I wish to go away, far from here, just us"
"But this is our home Thomas, I don't want to leave"
"Then I'll stay too, only for you"
"If they want to send me away, I'll run away with you. I swear it" she conceded.
"I swear it too"
"Wait" Lucille took her nightgown off, staying in her underwear. They huddled under the blankets, as they used to when they were smaller. They haven't look for this comfort in a long time, but it felt good, releasing, to be just the two of them again. The rest of the world could vanish. The moon shined over the two children lying tired, half asleep, side by side, their hands holding in assurance, pale skin and dark silk hair, their small frames innocent.
"Lucille?"
"Hmmm"
"I want to be like this always, always together"
"Never apart" she finished the sentence, it sounded reassuring. "Let's say it together, Thomas"
"Always together, never apart" the children repeated at one voice, like a mantra.
No more to say was needed, and so they rested. The boy fall asleep quickly, while the girl's heart keep beating troubled, her plagued with unpleasant images of what she had witnessed tonight and the words of her mother's reprimand.