Spring arrived to Allerdale with the absence of the children's father. Mr. Nort arrived as usual, with instructions. Doyle delivered through him a letter from master Arthur, he will take more time, the uncle had passed away.
The incoming rains dampened the house leaking through the roof and making the wood wet. Mold grew like the grass in the green lands, filling the enclosed and dark spaces with its characteristic stench. Between the mold, the temperature changes, and the rain, the coughs and sneezes echoed through the house. The maids, the tutors, even Jory had got a cold.
Thomas tended to be regularly affected, specially by allergies or seasonal viruses. Doctor Randolph, frequented the manor, as he was right now, being Thomas ill, his breathing heavy and hissing. It started two weeks ago, the boy had rolled on the bed, shivering below a pile of blankets. Nobody noticed the long night the boy battled alone against the raising fever. It was Lucille that peeped in his room early in the morning. She woke up before her mother as usually, to check on her brother. Thomas looked pale and gaunt, blue around his eyes and the hair sweat, his bed clothes wet too. He spoke nonsense and when she touched his face it felt like a flame. She was older now, at least she knows what to do.
When her mother found her in the kitchen she almost got a fit. Lucille was carrying a bucket of cold water and rags. She didn't retreat when her mother pulled her by her arm, making her to stumble. She didn't get intimidated, and tried to move on.
"Respond me in this instant, how do you-"
"It was Maisy, she woke me up, because Thomas is sick, she knocked at your door, she went to tell Jory to fetch the doctor. Please." With that the woman released the child, and she walked for the stairs going to the nursery.
"Pray god you are telling the truth."
But Lucille had better pray god no to, she would face any punishment if Thomas wasn't fainting in bed, red cheeks with the fever and laborious breathing. The maid took the bucket from her, but got startled when she saw the Mistress. Agnes look at the boy, and she got scared, he was not faking it. Without doubt he had become the fragile creature it was promised of him when he had born. She never had been particularly fond of the children, but she won't allow him to die like this. Both Lucille and the maid were given instructions, to boil water and fetch the herbs her mother told her. She watched the woman appease the child fever with the cold water and then made him to breath on the boiling infusion fumes, and put the ointment in his thin chest. As doctor Randolph was on Carlisle, it was doctor Harris who went Allerdale to examine Thomas. He declared that it not a pneumonia, but they need to care it so it won't turn into it. The man gave directions to Mrs. Sharpe that Lucille memorized, just in case. Fortunately, the infusions that the Lady Sharpe had ordered to prepared were helping him to expel the phlegm from his lungs.
For two weeks Thomas was in bed, only able to walk short distances within the nursery. His breath still fainted with few physical efforts. He was getting better by the attentions received, but his frame was thinner and pale, as also was Lucille, undoubtedly.
Why mother had told the doctor that Thomas had been playing outside in the cold? Lucille didn't know. Though she could suspect, because the man always claimed that both children were pale and lacking sun, and the constant allergies of Thomas will improve with fresh air. Being out of the house was something that just never happened for them. Of course, the doctor asked her, and she had no choice but repeat her mother lies.
She had been punished so many times, on the accusation of being a liar, she usually wasn't. It was her mother who had pushed her to tell her first lie to his father, she had even been praised then, she was younger, let's play pretend Lucille, it is a game, but it will make your father happy, don't you want him to be happy? of course she wanted, she loved her father, he was different than mother, and he had given her Thomas. In time she understood that she can benefit from lying too. The rules as she understood were very simple, do not be caught. The game of lies was fun for her, it can get interesting to get people in distress when they manage different information. She did it with the maids, in order to get them afraid or occupied, she gave them instructions in the name of her mother, and then watched them being scolded by the woman. She never lied to Thomas, though, or asked him to lie, he was perfect, innocent. She didn't want him tainted in his body or his mind, even if that meant to put herself in the front line to spare him from their mother wrath or keep him unaware of things he cannot handle.
"Agnes, have you consider moving from Allerdale?"
"Dr. Randolph, what are you suggesting?"
"No formalism needed Agnes, Arthur is my best friend, and I have known you since before you two married, I consider you family as I do Arthur, with all the hot-headed he can be sometimes. I think I can speak clearly to you even if some of my worries are not welcomed by Arthur. The children, is not healthy for them to live like this, neither does help you. Besides the isolation, the house is a mold trap, it affects the boy health, and they both are so pale. They need a normal life, friends to play, run outside, sun, fresh air. Have you considered to move your family from Allerdale, at least for the winters? We can help you to find accommodations in the city. Emma can help you and the children to settle. You know I travel constantly, I was to leave two days ago but I cannot go without give a check on Thomas. I'm very glad of his improvement, but I had to tell you were close to lose another boy Agnes, and Arthur is not even aware of that. Think about it."
"Allerdale is my home, and Arthur would never approve to leave in any other place."
"Well then let him come here and partake the hardships his family is forced into because of his stubbornness!" He immediately regretted to have raised his voice.
"I'm sorry, Agnes, I'm truly sorry. I just cannot understand what goes through his head to be that blinded."
"He won't listen to me." Agnes replied.
"I thought as much, I could speak to him, if you wish"
"No Irving, but thanks. Allow me to manage this on my own."
"I'll respect your choice, but I want you to know that you can call me if you need any help."
The doctor left after giving a last check upon the children. Lucille was a little jumpy and reacted too soon when he asked, she didn't allow him to finish the question.
"I'm fine" She said in a hurry
"Are you hurt in anyway, I can check on you. Your mother doesn't have to know." He said trying to gain her confidence. He knew that Agnes had beaten the girl in more than one occasion, he found cane marks on her back. But he was not able to get an explanation from the child.
"I'm fine, will Thomas be fine too?"
"Yes, he will, don't you worry, your brother will be fine in few time."
Arthur was out of consideration, an accusation like that will only made retaliation against Agnes, and at the end it will pass its share to the girl. He pitied his friend, unable to stop his life from fragmenting, and taking this kind of impact in his family. He left Allerdale with a heaviness in his heart.
Another month passed, with their mother leading them to be, or at least Thomas. In the solitude of his room Thomas found himself an occupation. The boy had a real talent to draw sketches in the board, each day he erased it a make a different one to show it to Lucille in the morning. His mother had noticed the drawings and scowled him for this. She insisted that the chalk's powder will make him sick again, getting into his lungs.
They were both in the Attic, confident of not being disturbed as the piano notes could be heard coming
from below. Their mother was sure having tea with Mr. Branigan. Sweet merciful moments of early summer. Thomas was most obsessed in carving wooden circus animals for a carousel. He planned the model to spin like a real carousel, using the mechanism of Lucille's old music box. The one with ballerina spinning in a pirouette, that his sister had given him for this very purpose. He had analyzed exhaustively how the clock mechanism worked. Lucille instead was pinning a moth in a frame, trying to follow the steps from the book she consulted in the trophy room.
"Do you think something happened to father?"
"No, Why Thomas?"
"He is never out that long"
"Maybe he came and left on the same day" She was not convinced of this hypothesis, but wanted to calm the boy.
"But he didn't come for Christmas either"
"He is not here every Christmas, only sometimes"
"But he always brings us presents when he came after"
"Come let's go down, I cannot hear the piano anymore"
"Ok"
Mr. Branigan was gaining favors with the Lady Sharpe, he had accompanied her upstairs, but only allowed to her room antechamber. Not much of a proper behavior, giving the fact that she was a lady and her husband was not on the house. The man had a gift for the flattery, and had discovered that the Lady was in dire need of attention. In the absent of the husband he had flirted suggestively. He even gifted the woman a precious stone pendant. Lady Sharpe had blushed, and went to retrieve a collar to fit the pendant to it. From her wardrobe, she retrieved a box with a small lock. From the box she took a gold chain, and walked back to the antechamber where Mr. Branigan help it to tie it around her neck. The pendant gleamed beautifully, like something out of place in the manor.
Later, when preparing herself to bed, Agnes took the chain and pendant, to store them safely in the box, along with the jewels she had inherited from her mother, and the few that her husband had granted her as presents. The box itself had belonged to her mother, it came to her hands after his father dead. The jewels instead, were given to her by the old man. Contrary to what she had thought, this was something she didn't has to share with her sisters. All the girls had used one or another at least once, her father had allowed it so they look radiant for their presentations in society. But none had been given to any of them with the means of keeping it. It had been after the younger Graeme daughter had married, when the jewels became in her possession. Old Graeme had said all his girls had husbands who will gift them with jewels on their own, but being Agnes the one remaining at home, unmarried, in was fair that these family heirlooms belonged ultimately to her. Jewels for a jewel, he had told her.
Her sisters, the man had said, were cute silly girls. They will have merry lives, standing lovely by their husband's side, bringing and raising children, I expected no more, and this will make me already the most content man for bringing them into this world, but a hint in his eyes let Agnes know he was not completely content, for any man will regret to pass without with a boy to succeed his name. Now Agnes, he had said she was special. Not a cute silly girl, but a woman, hence she shouldn't entertain herself in doll's game, pretend plays, fairytale dreams. Her father had changed since her mother's death, he was never overly affectionate, neither was harsh, nor indifferent, but then he was a devoted loving husband. There were maids to tend the children, and she could do what she wanted for most of the time. From her mother, she remembers the woman being pregnant or nursing most of the time. She was reminded not to bother her mother, not to do anything to incommode the babies, as the cries were irritating for the home's peace. After the funeral, he had spoken with her.
"When your mother and I married, you were there right away, protruding your mother belly in such a way that everyone rumored she was already pregnant before we married, which was true but I could not allow such stories running to hurt my new wife's reputation. She had an inner fire, willing, lascivious you know, one that is not easily found in a girl of good family and traditional customs. Their family was blessed for the marriage and welcomed me, otherwise they would thing their daughter may had end in an unwanted position for their name disgrace, if you know what I meant. But I have to tell, she was a loyal woman as one can be, after we marry she had eyes only for me, and she was gorgeous, my desire for her was endless and then you were there, noticeable, present in our lovemaking sessions."
Agnes cheeks went reddish, hearing these words from his father.
"Oh, no my dear, there is nothing to be ashamed, it is a natural thing. Desire, lust, temptation, is part of our human condition, love instead is building on time. I did love your mother very much, she had a way of move and a wicked smile than make myself burn inside. And even with her distended belly her body was gorgeous. I used to tease her, she will say all the shaking will wake you up, and I said her you will probably find it amusing, being rocking to sleep in such a way. You have too much of her you know, for good and bad. I have taken care of you all your life, haven't I, is my duty as a father, and I love you as fiercely as I loved your mother. You remind me of her, purest and sinful at the same time. You owe this old man the courtesy of caring. And being I alone as I am, it will break my heart to let you go and fulfill your sister's destiny. You are precious in ways you don't know yet, you don't want to be wasted up pampered as an ornament, hosting boring parties, and succumbing to a man release when he dimmed you worthy or his lust unbearable. I treasure you, and I cannot let you go, not now. I cannot imagine marrying again, as I cannot open my heart to a stranger. I cannot impose your sisters to another woman's command, erasing away your mother's memory."
"But father"
"Hush dear, you were never destined to it. Your mother wanted you to take the vows of God when you reach 16, and I would have indulged her, but now she is not with us and my heart will break if this family splits again." He placed a kiss in her forehead and hug her as she cried on his shoulder.
That was her sentence, her chance to a life of her own was taken away from her, and she had accepted it submissively. It was his father will, she respected him, and she loved him, and it was better than being taken away to a convent far from all she knew. She loved her sisters, as pestering as they can be sometimes. Later, she will regret how the Finigham brothers ceased to throw furtive looks at her each Sunday at the church. Even worse when the older brother Harry, two years older than her, had asked Mr. Graeme permission to court her, his request declined by her mourning father.
Not long after the old man died, she had found a locked wooden box among his things. It had her mother initials engraved on the lid. It arrived to Allerdale in Doyle's hands, as was the lawyer that resolved the sale of her former house and the distribution of the family savings and possessions among the Graeme daughters. She had forced the lid open, by the lack of the key, founding a peculiar collection of items inside. A handkerchief, with the initials L.R. embroidered on a corner, a feather, a silver button with a coat of arms, and yellow pieces of paper, written with ink. A broken letter, actually two letters, after she put the pieces together, matching them like the pieces of a puzzle.
June 02, 1825
Dear Anne,
I have no means to claim for you, as my father had arranged my future marriage with a Parisian lady, daughter of one his oldest business partners. To this I have no choice. I cannot deny, in risk of ruining my father's mood and hence my own economical wellness that can be achieve with this union. As you know, my brother George is the older and my father's successor.
The woman I love cannot be as selfish as to ask me to renounce the live I have always enjoyed. What kind of future may I be offering to you dear? if deprived from my family monetary support. Do you expect me to work like a common peasant and feed us with scraps? This I cannot do.
I will be a married man in two years from now, a year after George marry himself, as you know he is engaged with the beautiful lady Katherine Holmes, and I will be his best man, and after a year, my father will grant me the administration of the family business, and I will be expected to give all support to my brother.
So, no, I'm sorry but not I cannot run away with you like a child, relinquishing of my responsibilities. I cannot take we both into a life of poverty, for that is what wait for us out of our families protective wings. But I still agree to our encounters, with the same discretion we have been doing for this last two years, I'm still a single man and we can enjoy each other company for the time we have left.
Sincerely,
Leonard.
. . . . .
February 23, 1826
Dear miss Weston,
I am most concerned with the claims you made in your last letter, I value your friendship dearly for what it is. Friendship between acquaintances and neighbors who played together as children. It's undeniable that your recent madness is caused for jealousy. And I regret dear friend that those feelings had corrupted your soul. We are not children anymore and I plead you to give up any fantasy you could harbor of a future together with me as man and wife. This is impossible, for I am deeply in love with my betrodden, and I will travel to marry her as soon as the winter recede. It hurts my heart deeply the way you have choose to make me change my mind. Please have reason and some dignity. If your condition is true, then I deny my authorship on it. You are accusing me of fornication, being I am an engaged man, it is also an insult to my future bride.
If is true that you find yourself in that condition, then I pity you, for it is only you that will be damaged if this news were made public, as they will in time. I cannot image the desolation that this will cause upon Mr. and Mrs. Harlan. I advise you don't continue this wicked plot. Isn't enough that you are ruined your reputation, but drag me into it too? If you had been wronged is not by me. But as betrayed I feel, I'm willing to help you as I am a gentleman and no less is expected from me. As a friend I will speak with your father, to appease his indignation and calm his anger toward you. I will offer my support to help you avoid this shame, after the issue is solved you can return to your live, nobody has to know your ordeal, and maybe you can find a suitor one day. Please accept my advice, as the world is unfair and cruel with bastards, and will condemned you as a sinful woman. But what else can be think about a girl with no shame to give away her purity being her unmarried. You said you love me, but I cannot return the sentiment. I never loved you in the same way. Who knows how many had already claim your virtue, and appease their lust in you. What can I think, if you willingly set yourself into sin, instead of remaining chaste for a deserving husband.
I'm sorry, because I know you since we were children. But I would have to ask you, please do not write me again, do not pursuit the madness you are upon. I'll be gone if that will appease your troubled mind, and maybe one day after this issue is cleared and forgotten I can address you again, as a friend.
Sincerely,
Leonard Rush.
The revelation hidden in her mother's secret box was digested quickly. Her mother had been kept this truth from her, all her life. But father or not, old William Graeme had taken her as a child of his own. He had saved his mother from the shame, and took the charge of her. As a child, Agnes never felt less, nor had less than her sisters, neither was she ever denied anything in favor of the true blood daughters. She had loved them both. She didn't need the truth at all. Had she acquired more responsibilities only for being the eldest, and even if the truth may had unburdened her, it would had been an unfair act of ingratitude to abandon her family and pursuit her own interests.
For Agnes, the past was something better buried underground, not to be revisited. The letters along with the trinkets her mother had keep hidden through the years, burned to ashes in the fire. She didn't need reminders, nor mementos.
After all, she thought she can still reborn like a phoenix. Lady Sharpe of Allerdale, not the old spinster her life had predicted to be, considering the age she had when her father at last released her. She was happy as a satisfied woman can be, for it was a gentleman the man that had took her, the envy of many younger prospects. She was embracing the possibility of being pregnant, her body with the radiance of flowers in the morning, when the sun awakens them covered with gleamy drops of mildew. If life had been or not unfair she didn't question it. May the Lord send her the ordeals necessary to clean her soul, then she will endure them.
She sat on the small table with ink and paper, and started to write a letter to her husband. The words of his father lingering in her mind...love instead is building on time. It truly never came to her, not in the way she expected, and she had wanted it too hard. She didn't care the urgency of whatever was retaining Arthur to return his home, she wanted him back, but not because she missed. At least not as one would miss a loving husband. The unhealthy routines in which the Sharpe lived were ingrained in their lives, and so she wanted her husband back as usually, even if it was out of greed, even if she will despise him as soon as his manners degraded with each day he stayed on the manor. It was her curse, her penitence for her mother's sins. There was no joy in being Lady Sharpe, but a meaning to appease her unladylike lust, maybe she was by all means her mother's daughter.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
Nine months, it was what it took, a couple of letters had arrived in between from the master, and a third one announcing his return. Jory had been in the town, picking up the mail. As usually, he only picked the letters addressed to the Lady Sharpe. Any letter for the master was left there, to pick up upon his return, to be handed only on the master's hand.
Agnes only got letters from her husband, or Doyle, by her husband's orders. The occasionally invitations or seasonal greetings letters when always addressed to the Sharpe family, meaning them to be delivered to the house headmaster. So, it was curious when Jory handed her two envelopes, one a letter from France, along with the other send by Arthur. She checked the envelope twice, Lady Agnes Sharpe, there was no mistake, but the name of the sender was not familiar. Finlay Hertford, by the last name she was sure he was a relative of uncle Edmund. She put the letter aside, reading first the one from her husband. He was to be expected on the first week of October, which was now in two more weeks, preparations of the house were in order.
The children for a change were enthusiastic their father was coming back. But mostly because the tutor Mr. Branigan had to leave earlier, a family matter, he had informed. Its presence was required in London with urgency. They were getting free of the yoke much earlier than expected, and they will be spared from tutor until after winter.
The mood of Lady Sharpe soured in last two days. She had been deluded like an innocent child, Her the Mistress of Allerdale, in her own house. Her jewels' box had gone disappear coincidentally with the sudden travel of the tutor. This was an issue to keep to herself, in the light of more urgent news, that where revealed for the letter send by Finlay Hartford. Those were beyond anything she would ever believe Arthur to be capable. It was touching the floor on the deepest pit of hell. How long had he been lying to her? Where had he spend the last nine months?
This is what the letter had said, first that Arthur Sharpe had not returned France since Edmund Hartford's dead, almost two years ago. That Arthur was not welcome again in the Hartford state, even if he, Finlay, would not pursue the last wish of Edmund Hartford. To stir the issue will only affect the dignity of the child, as well as the Sharpe family. It would not bring the child back from the death. At least, the uncle didn't have to witness the loss of the child, who died delivering the baby forced upon her. That because of the child's condition, the ordeal had been a disgrace, a shameful, monstrous deed. Finally, there was a telegram enclosed within the letter, for Arthur Sharpe addressed to the France cottage. She opened it, breaching the mail privacy was more than justifiable given the secrets that her husband has been hiding from her, for two years...or even longer. The telegram was a bank statement to inform the completion of a fund transferal, for a very considerable amount. The funds origin was a bank in Sweden, an account on the name of Anastasia Blom.
When Jory arrived with the master, he behaves no different as he usually did. He kissed her wife cheek, and hugged the children. They were elated to receive two brown packets tied with satin strings. Children can be so easily motivated with presents. Agnes was distant, and he saw a war coming. He had expected her to be picky, because of the longer time it take him to return, but it was utterly necessary. The foolish woman, can give him a warming welcoming for a change, but he knew exactly how tame her into submission.
In the room he had cornered her kissing her against the wall.
"I missed you"
"Did you?"
"Hmm"
"Arthur stop, I have to check on the maids, dinner is about to be ready"
"I can wait, let's make up for the lost time" His hand caressed her neck, which she unconsciously exposed it by moving he head backwards.
"No, stop it"
"What is wrong with you woman?"
"Where were you, all this time?"
"Is that? Didn't you get my letters?"
"Yes, but you were not in France, I get notice that your uncle Edmund passed away two years ago"
The maid knocked at the door to give notice the Mistress that the dinner was ready.
"You are right, we better have dinner, we can speak later"
Agnes didn't drop the topic, on the contrary, it developed on the table, an ominous signal of catastrophe.
Thomas and Lucille had been witnesses of the confrontation, it started in the dining table. His mother had inquired about a letter, and a relative. His father's uncle. Thomas wondered if he had been named after him, Edmund. Whatever curiosity he may had about this relative was vanished, he had not met him, and he'll never will. Apparently, he had been dead for a while.
The questioning was about his father whereabouts, if not in France, where, and how come he had not informed her that uncle Edmund had passed away. Dead, she meant, he knew this well by now.
And whoever was that girl Camile, well she was dead too. The word 'bastard' though, he did not understand. But they were dismissed, he and Lucille, even the maid. None bothered to walk them upstairs, not locked them. First they finished the dinner in a hurry, because there was not every day they had dinner in the dining room, with the variety of food that it
represented.
Lucille was eager for the information, truly interest in knowing what her mother was talking about, accusing his father. They hide in the third floor, finding a good spot to listen the events in the room below.
"Do you really think you will treat me like less. That you can corner me with your stupid claims?"
"I'm your wife, so yes you are in debt of an explanation."
"About what, what is there to know? That the old fool left me out of his will after I wasted myself working for him. That he died two years ago, that I had to do what I must to keep on the finances of this house, for this family!"
"Tell me about the girl."
"What?" He squinted his eyes. It was not Anastasia she was asking about. How come she would know anything about Camile.
"The marriage is not valid, as I am first married to you. I don't love her at all, she was just happened to be the only heir of a wealthy couple, that recently passed away, as she is now. Her funds were transferred to the Sharpe account. There are no relatives to inquire, or to question the legitimacy of the join. Now she's gone, and the inconvenience is solved. Now, don't put that face, aren't you the calculating one?"
"You lay with her" The tone was of accusation.
"Yes, I did fuck her, but that should not impress you at all, as your estimations regarding my 'infidelities' is much bigger than my true achievements. But you should agree with me in this, I didn't toss you away you for a common wench, this time. I didn't toss you away at all, this was to serve a purpose, as it did. I did this for my family, my children, you. But mostly, it was inconsequential, she did not conceive."
She was overwhelmed with how much was this man capable, but then men, were all the same weren't they. Of course, this was the least of her concerns, and he was diverting her attention.
"No, I mean the French girl, Camile. What is she of you?"
He breathed long and hard. This was a topic that unsettled him to the nerves. It made him feel naked and dirty. A cheater and liar, unworthy. He was an unyielding man, and found himself surprised when his iron mask dropped off and he for the first time felt like a child being questioned by his mother. Agnes was not his mother, never had the character, he had always been the one in charge, even so, roles seemed to get reverted.
His voice quivered. "She..."
"She was your lover! Did she die with your child in her womb?! Served her well."
"No! Stop" He grasped her with fury.
"You don't dare to speak of her like this. You don't! She was but a child, and sick of the mind. She was not- She didn't know. She couldn't consent nor deny. She was, she was-" a tear ran down his check. "My mistake, my punishment… my daughter."
"What are you saying?" She couldn't process it. "I don't understand"
"It is not for you to understand! You dime witted woman. I loved her, loved her! my Emily."
"Emily? Who is Emily?" Agnes inquired, in part scared for what atrocity she may get as response.
"Camile born wrong because of that!"
"Arthur, who is Emily?" She insisted, but Arthur was losing his wits.
"I didn't know it was her. I though her death!"
He paced, his palm running on his hair, almost about to pull at it.
"She is dead, like her mother, and it's on me." He sobbed, and this was something that Agnes has never seen her husband do.
"How old was this girl?" She did the math, and so this had to happened before Lucille was born.
Now thinking it, he had mentioned Emily once, well not he, actually it had been Irving. And they had argued, because he had mentioned her. One of the servant's daughters, he had said, Arthur had been fond of her, but she had been moved with other relatives. As by the doctor, he was never again so cheerful after that. A child's crush apparently. It never came into conversation again, until now.
"Do you really think I was the only child that my father had? Two girls, out of wedlock, my mother knew and sent them away. My father found ways to bring them back, keep them in the family, he always said the Sharpe belong to Allerdale, all of them."
He sat in a corner of the bed. Agnes took on using a soothing friendly voice to keep him speaking.
"Was Emily one of them?"
"Yes. Of course, we didn't know until she was with child. I was fifteen, all decision was taken away from me. She died at delivery, the child was wrong, a daughter. My mother sent her away, told me both had died... She died the same way, the child didn't survive this time."
This Emily was his half-sister, whom he had a child, Camile, who had been raised by uncle Edmund. And here she had always thought her family was complex, but Allerdale was overfilled with twisted secrets. She did the mental calculation, and then the child in question was about thirty years old. Not really a child, except for the fact that her mind was feeble as a small child.
"All these years traveling to France, did you know, did you-?"
"No, of course no! she was raised in a nursery house until eight, after that uncle Edmund took her in his house. For all the time I went there I never knew, not until she was much older, almost twenty."
"Since when had you...lay with her?
"Only once" He said, and a lonely silent tear rolled from his eye.
Maybe her husband was not a disgusting old man who liked tender little girls, still this was not at all comforting. Reality was even worse. He had taken advantage of a person that was not able to, as he had said, consent or deny. The fact that the feeble girl was his own daughter make all most gross. It all made sense now, the letter. The concern of Sir Edmund, still something was amiss.
Can she ever trust him with her own daughter? Had he ever looked to Lucille in a salacious way? He may as well do, as men are sinners and Arthur had more than prove himself. Agnes needed to focus. She could not just have stood there to watch, to see the same nightmare repeated. She had forgiven Arthur so many things but this she couldn't.
"You are filthy, a monster!"
"Are you better then, are you? Stupid woman!"
"I'm not standing here anymore, allowing you to ruin my life, your children's life, my children.
"You never cared for them, what is all this suddenly blooming of motherly feelings"
"I would be a monster like you if I left them at the hands of a lascivious sick man."
"Lascivious? You never complained in that respect before"
"I didn't know you have fondness toward laying with frail mind girls, ever less related to you!
That is immoral, incestuous, you took advantage of her condition, that is rape!"
"I didn't rape her!"
"Did she consent then? I bet no, I bet even didn't cried to stop you! Sinner!"
"Yes, I made a mistake, but that doesn't make you a better parent than me."
"Can you sleep well knowing that you are responsible of such a terrible wrong, that killed your bastard and your bastard's bastard!"
"Silence! You won't speak of her like that, she was innocent"
"Oh. no, rotten she was, fruit and labor of sin, the only reason for her being alive was to expose you fault, and even so you commit fault again, and even worse. Her soul is condemned to root on hell as yours is. "
"Well maybe I'm, so better death not take me before I can teach some respect on you."
"You are beyond redemption, your soul will burn for eternity"
"If I have not to endure you by my side, for that would be real punishment."
He approached her closing the space, but she reacted quicker, knocking him with the candle holder that was on the table behind her. He stumbled backward and fall unconscious. She will leave, she decided, she won't die neglected guarding the shameful secrets of that corrupted house and family. She ran to find Jory and told him to prepare the carriage immediately. In a rush back to the house she took a small suitcase, grabbing only a spare change of clothes and money.
Now the children, she would take them with her, save them, but she won't take care of them. This was her chance to free herself, and she wanted nothing that reminded her of Arthur. If she drops them on a convent, they can be relocated to work in a house. It will be hard for the pampered little children but it was better than what was left here in Allerdale. They were big enough to care for themselves, they didn't have to be her burden any more. She will take a different route, her life had been a lie for enough time, she had not a charming family, not a gentleman for a husband, no fortune, only debts, and a house about to crumble over their heads.
"You'll come with me now, hurry up!" She said pulling them out of the nursery. She didn't bother to grab suitcase nor clothes for them.
The children had run to the nursery after the commotion, and Thomas was doing the same he had been doing for the last ten minutes. He was curved on the floor, crying with his hands covering his ears. Lucille grabbed his hand and bring him up to avoid him a chance for being punished by their mother. They huddled in the elevator and went down, but Lucille started to worry when they walked to the main doors.
"Mother, where are we going?" She could see the carriage waiting there, and next to it his father.
"Jory, you may leave" he said.
"Yes master" Jory obeyed, looking puzzled and ashamed. Surely, he had got a word from his father regarding who gave the commands when he was in the state.
Now Arthur Sharpe make a cynical smile, a mockery.
"Well, well, well, where 're are we going? His voice whiskey-glazed in anger.
"Anywhere but here, far away from you. Enough is enough I can't stand you anymore. Disrespecting me and making my life miserable! And..."
"You are taking the children, I see...so bold are we now?"
"I hate you! I'll leave with or without them, I'll walk to the town if I must."
"Walk you say? I don't think so, how it would look like. I think we better can discuss it, is already sunset, rest for the night, if you have not change your mind by tomorrow I'll take you to the town myself, I promise"
"I don't want to see you!"
"You are not listening!"
"I do but I won't allow you to hurt me anymore, I won't-"
"Finally, something we both agree. You won't. You won't be going anywhere, you won't continue this stupid little rebellion, you won't speak to me like you are better, you won't disobey your husband command, you won't, because you are nothing. This is your place, here. I gave you my name and you should be grateful for that, what would you had done by yourself after the old Graeme die? A spinster. Who would care for you, with the rumors. Oh, I now they are true."
"You are despicable."
"And you are unworthy of my affection, you never were but a barren woman, and I don't mean your womb, but your hearth."
"You make me that way, trapping me in this house, alone with the ghost of mi children"
"But that didn't stop you, don't you think I never noticed your moves. The needy look you had when Nort is on the state, to the children tutors?"
"I did more than look at them, and they corresponded me in a way you never did."
"You shut-" His hand crossed her face, leaving her cheek sore. "You insulted me in my own house!?"
"I did, you were never here, and even when you were physically here, you never acknowledge my existence as something valuable, as your wife?"
He grabbed her by the hair on the back of her hear forcing her to follow to the house. The children were watching, but the masters forgot they were there. Thomas was scared and pallid, Lucille holding his hand, they remained there and between the two of them carried the forgotten suitcase mother had taken with her. Lucille had been scared too, her mother had intended to take them away from Allerdale, she didn't want to leave, this was their house, for good and bad. She and Thomas had themselves, which was more valuable than the other possessions like the clothes and toys and books. Besides, the rest of the world, either children or adults, was not something she felt ready for, even less a new unfamiliar place.
Once in the hall they paralyzed, the fight had grown in level and now their mother was sobbing and begging, while the man stumbled near her, his hands were bloody, but it was not his own. They entered just in time to watch her mother's leg breaking under the boot of his father, while it rested in between two steps on the staircase. She had tried to run first, he caught her on the stairs making her to trip. The statement his father made regarding his resolution of not allowing her to leave was silenced by his wife's screams of pain.
Maybe it was the scream so hurting and penetrating that made him to react. Now showing concern or regret, he carried her in his arms to their room. Agnes sobbed and tried to punch his husband on his chest without enough strength. The boys ran upstairs as soon as their father was out of view and into the room. They didn't stop until they reached the nursery, and locked the door from the inside. Thomas was much affected, he was a sensible boy, and this exchanges usually obfuscated him much more than they did Lucille, who was used to take them as the natural order of marital interaction. The girl had become hardened with the years, and one thing she was sure of, she will never marry, no matter what her mother or father said. She will run away with Thomas if a day came in which they bring a suitor for her.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
One hour later the master had looked for Jory, and send him notice for the doctor. He did clean the blood on the stairs, after he slipped on it and fall with his bottom on the steps. For Agnes he couldn't do much, she was in pain, but the broken bone was exposed. His original intention was not that radical, but again, he had not been able to control himself. Lack of self-control was his perpetual flaw.
The doctor didn't arrive four hours later when it was still night, he was lucky he was still in town, and giving the urgent words of Jory, he dressed and followed immediately. Arthur spent those hours next to his wife, rage was receded from him, as it usually did after he realized the consequences of allowing anger to fuel his mind and body. She didn't speak, just whimpered occasionally, her lips pressed constantly holding the pain.
"You cannot leave me Agnes" He said now with a low pleading voice.
"You are my wife, I'm your husband, what I will do without you? I'll die, I'll die a crazy man. I'm begging you, please don't you ever think of leaving me again"
She looked at him with disdain, and closed her eyes. He lied on the bed next to her, sinking his nose in her neck. "I'm sorry" he murmured "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"
Abandonment, that was the only think that Arthur Sharpe was afraid of.
When Doctor Randolph arrived, he checked on Agnes. The bone in her leg had broken in two pieces, he stopped the bleeding and reset the bone, immobilizing the leg in a splinter. It took long and it was mostly painful as didn't have proper sedatives in his briefcase. Agnes had already starting a fever even if he had cleaned and bandaged the area. It was his best hope the injure won't infect, because that will compromise the leg. He sighed looking at Agnes, it was a painful thing to be related to Arthur Sharpe. He knew it, because he had been Agnes doctor since she married. He never had been too prying in the couple business, Arthur had always asked for discretion, and Agnes had never complained.
He walked to the studio, after speaking with the maid and gave her instructions to keep the fever down. Arthur was sat, not drinking, who was good, as lately he was been given into the alcohol. Since his uncle dead and the cut of the income he used to get from him, Arthur had been slowly becoming a man he knew no more.
"Arthur"
"How is she?"
"What do you want to know, you already know is not a mortal wound?"
"She felt"
"The pressure applied to the bone to break it clean in two pieces cannot be achieved from a fall"
"What are you a police inspector now?"
"I'm still your friend, or that I believe"
"My life is a ruin"
"You made your life a ruin Arthur, is your choice. What happened this time?"
"We fight, she tried to leave. She tried to leave me, she was taking the children too."
"Did you hit your head with the floor too?"
"What?"
"You are bleeding, allow me to take a look at it" Arthur raised a hand to acknowledge.
Irving got close and started to clean the cut in his head. It was deep, definitely not a fall but a hit with a heavy object. No doubt Agnes tried to defend herself this time. He started to sew the stitches.
"Hey!"
"It will hurt just a bit, but I bet is nothing compared with the pain Agnes is enduring right now"
"Are you trying to make me feel bad?"
"No, you should be doing that on your own. Christ's sake Arthur, don't you think this time it went too far away. I know you two had your quarrels. But what you just did, I'll never think myself to lay a hand on my wife, even less cripple her like that."
"Cripple?"
"A fracture can be healed, with proper immobilization and bed rest. But when the bones break into pieces that separate like that, it never mends in the proper position, even less at her age. I'm afraid this will take a long, long time to heal, as best as it will. I recommend you get a wheeled chair, she will need it."
"Will she walk again?"
"Yes, thought I won't guarantee it won't earlier than a year. It is very important to have the cut clean and fresh, if and infection take root on the flesh it may end in an amputation. But it looks fine so far, I'll stay a couple of days to check on it. In the best scenario the bone will heal and yes, she will walk of course, but she may have a limp and suffer pains on her leg, for the rest of her life"
"I.."
"Spare me please, I have known you long enough. This is how it works, you hurt her in anger, then you are most repented, you will made up for her, for a while. Eventually it will happen again. I'm truly worried, for Agnes, and for you."
"Nowadays everyone seems to think they know me better than myself"
"I speak based on experience. You know I'm in the obligation to inform this incident to the authorities if Agnes asked me to."
"She won't"
"Out of fear, you cannot keep her by force"
"She is my wife, the Lady Sharpe, she has duty to me as I have to my name"
"Your duty is with your family Arthur. And if you care for her and the children sanity, I think a time out of Allerdale can be good the three of them. Listen to me, I can have her admitted in Carlisle's Hospital. They will take proper care of her, it will be good for her mind too."
"No"
"You don't have the resources to take care for her here. She cannot spend month after moth paralyzed in that bedroom. She need to be take out, to get air, and to see other people regularly. The children can stay a season or two with me in Carlisle, Emma will be happy to take them in."
"No"
"You are not even give it a consideration"
"No"
"You are an obstinate mule. I fear for the day I will be called here for the worse, because at this rhythm, you and Agnes will hurt each other for much worse."
"In that you are right, that woman will be the death of me"
"She is not in the strength position though. But I'm telling you, if your attacks to her keep escalating, the police will intervene."
"Don't be absurd"
"Absurd? That your wife is lying in a bed after you-. Have you ever think in how this affect your children?"
"I'll never have hurt them, I'll never could"
"They are older now, they realize what happen around them. Is this what you want them to learn, for Thomas, to treat a woman like that. What about Lucille will you stand back if she marries and her husband beats her like that?"
"The boy must to learn how to command respect from his wife, if she is not as educated as expected. And Lucille may learn for once that these are not the ways for proper ladies to behave."
"Unbelievable. You should stop excusing yourself for once. Allow me to take them, or if not the children at least Agnes, as her doctor I'm telling you she will health better in a proper hospital"
"I have to check on the state business, but Jory can get anything you need."
"Thanks, Ar-"
"Oh, and I don't want to ever hear you mention that nonsense of taking my family away, not my children, not my wife. I swear I'll kick you out of my house, and will find another family doctor if needed."
Arthur Sharpe walked out the studio, giving his back to his only and oldest friend.