Chapter Eleven #2
“What is the meaning of this?” He waved his copy of the schedule around erratically over his head. Confused, Lisbeth looked from Oliver to her gathering staff then back to Oliver.
He growled at her blank look and shoved his soggy schedule in her face, his finger at a line. “There will be no need of Lord Bellamy’s services today? Services?”
Stunned into silence, she remained staring at the schedule in front of her. This is what had so upset him? It was written clearly enough, so where did the confusion lie?
“Are you trying to punish me for last night? Is that it?” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Well, I don’t care. I will not apologize.”
She did not like his tone at all. Did he have any idea what she was going through here? No, of course not. How could he? It was why she had decided to do it alone, but perhaps she had been wrong to exclude him.
Watching him as he impatiently shrugged out of his coat and tossed it negligently towards her butler, Lisbeth couldn’t help but be reassured by Bellamy’s presence.
His body had never scared her, even though he was a good head and shoulders taller than she.
He usually held himself in such a way that it presented no threat to her.
Now, worked up as he was, she couldn’t help but notice the power he held at bay.
The width of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist and hips all seemed so much more dangerous today.
His muscular legs were encased in buff-colored breeches and finished in a pair of top boots. Large boots.
Why was it she was so fascinated with the size of his feet? He seemed awesome in a way she had never bothered to notice before. It shocked and thrilled her.
“Well?” Oliver asked.
Lisbeth’s head snapped up from his feet.
“Because if you think for one moment I am going to—” Bellamy looked around and saw everyone in the hall was looking at him. He scowled. If his expression was meant to make her staff scatter, it didn’t work. Mrs. Rollands moved closer to Lisbeth and Rollands also took a step towards him.
“What the devil is going on here?” Bellamy ordered.
“My lord,” Rollands said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Oliver replied in a flat tone, “I’m not leaving.”
“My lord, you are not on the schedule. You were not needed today. Surely—”
“Really? Are you sure, Rollands?”
Rollands’s confusion showed briefly on his face. “Yes, my lord, I am.”
“Show me.” Oliver put his hand out to Rollands for the schedule.
Lisbeth watched as Rollands slowly took out his copy of the schedule, still crisp edged and folded neatly.
Oliver took a pencil out of his jacket pocket. “Thank you. Mine was a little soggy. Now… one hour spent in Nathaniel’s study,” he read, then leaning on the wall, added, “with Bellamy,” and handed it to Rollands.
Bellamy then turned, glaring at Lisbeth.
Having recovered somewhat from her shock, Lisbeth was now throwing him her most disgusted look. “You can’t do that!” she said, hands on hips. The nerve of the man!
“I believe I just did, now—”
“No!”
“No? But, Countess, it’s on your schedule,” he mocked with a raised brow.
“Just because you write it in doesn’t mean anything! Now, get out!”
“Is this about the armoire?”
She gasped.
“You’re not going to faint on me, are you? Threaten to shoot me? Oh, that’s right,” he smiled for effect, “I have your rather pretty little pistol, don’t I? In case you were fretting, it is safely out of harm’s way.” He then leaned a little closer to her, whispering, “You are harm, by the way.”
“Oh! How dare you! How dare you come in here and… and… come in here and… my schedule… in my own house!” she heard herself screech.
She knew none of that had even made sense.
She was so angry and so confused by the fact he had just ruined her schedule with such ease, she didn’t know quite what to do with herself.
Part of her was waiting for lightning to strike her down.
The other part just wanted him to leave but he kept looking at her.
She looked at the clock in the hall. In the silence it ticked over another minute so loudly it reverberated in her head like a gong.
“Damn you, Bellamy—” she began.
“You are not shutting me out, not now, not after all you’ve put me through.”
She gasped again because she really couldn’t move or think. What was he talking about?
She had to make him leave, but how? She could feel perspiration gather and trickle down her back. She looked at the clock again.
When she made no further argument or movement, he made that strange growling sound in his throat again, looked around him once more, and raked his fingers through his hair.
It seemed he had made up his mind for her when he grabbed her arm, cautioned Rollands with a finger, and grabbed the knob on Nathaniel’s study door.
She felt somewhat unreal as he propelled her through that door, like stepping back in time, like reliving a nightmare only with the wrong man. She looked around the room and her head began to swim.
Oh Lord, protect her!
Her legs wobbled when he let go of her arm to close the door behind them. She stumbled to the desk and looked frantically around the room to get her bearings. Or was it to look for an escape? All she knew for certain was she did not want to be here.
Lisbeth felt her eyes fill. The gentle spill of her tears as they made their way down her cheeks tickled her flesh, but she was too distraught to wipe them away.
Turning towards Bellamy and seeing his frown still in place on his too handsome face was the last vestige of reality she felt before she was swept away to a time and place she had never wished to visit again.
Memories whirling, she crumbled to the ground.
…Newly married, she had entered her husband’s study expecting her stunning smile to be gifted with a kiss or a smile but instead Nathaniel’s fierce scowl advanced upon her.
He slapped her. The slap so hard it sent her head spinning.
The shock of his unexpected attack made her stare at him with wide eyes full of confusion.
She could feel the sting of his handprint on her cheek. What on Earth had she done?
“I asked you to see me a half hour ago,” he yelled in her face.
“I…I was just finishing off our thank-you cards…” Her eyes burned as she battled to contain her tears. His summons had not said he required her urgently.
“I am your husband, and you will do as you are told when I tell you to do it. Is that clear?” The chill in his voice made her shudder, but he was not quite finished with her yet.
“Yes, of course, but I have done all you asked. I simply didn’t know you needed me immediately,” she replied, shocked and confused by this sudden change in him.
Her answer did not please him, and he gave her another savage slap that sent her to her knees.
“You will do as you are told!” Nathaniel yelled.
He moved closer until they were face to face.
“And you will do it to the letter. My word is law in this house, little wife. I decide everything. You are my property now and no more worthy of my attention than my dog. Do you understand or do I need to beat it into you?”
“I am your wife. You took vows to protect me,” she whispered, still unable to comprehend what was happening.
“And you took vows to obey me. Now take off your clothes. I wish to see the marks I make.”
She scrambled back against the door. “No! Have you gone mad? What have I done to you to deserve such treatment?”
He laughed then, and it was to be the last warning he would give her.
He ripped the clothes from her body while she fought him with all she had, but he was so much bigger and stronger than she.
He beat her with his fists, his booted feet, and when they were tired, he used a crop he had in his drawer.
While she was cowering on the floor in agony and terror he calmly sat down on a chair and looked at her, laughing.
“Why is your kind always so stupid, eh, wife? Thinking you are worthy of being treated like some kind of queen, expecting it, as if it is something you deserve simply because you are a lady? I won’t tolerate disobedience in my wife so learn to do as you are told, when you are told.
Understand?” He stood, stepped over her like so much rubbish, leaving her huddled in her humiliation.
The marks he so wished to see were to be constant reminders to her in the next few months until she learned neither to be seen nor heard unless he asked for her.
He didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her. He wanted a plaything, something he could control.
Something he could break.
His betrayal cut her to the bone even as his beatings bruised her flesh. She became like a mouse, scurrying around to avoid notice and yet ever vigilant, waiting for his summons. After those initial beatings she knew there was no hope for her future or of an escape from his brutal treatment.
Lisbeth was vaguely aware of her surroundings now, but her misery had taken a merciless hold of her senses.
Sounds seemed to come at her from everywhere, shouting her weaknesses, branding her for her failings. She put her hands over her ears to shut them out. It did no good. Why would they not go away? Why couldn’t she push these memories out of her head?
She was adrift on an angry sea of emotions and grief.
Grief not for her husband but for the young girl she had been, for the trust he had wrenched from her heart.
She mourned the young woman who had thought so naively that she was about to start a new and exciting life, only to find it was to be the end of her innocence, her dreams, and her hope in a future that was not to be hers.