Chapter Seven #2
“I have.” This is exactly why I didn’t want them to come.
I knew they would find out the strange truths of my new arrangement.
I knew Helen would use it against me even though I am the one in the lap of luxury.
I have the husband they so desired. I have safety, security, and freedoms. Yet Joyce’s specter lingers over them, telling me that I have nothing.
“Then how could you not know…” Laura seems genuinely confused.
“We’ve spoken only when I couldn’t lay eyes on him.”
Helen sighs and shakes her head sadly. “It is a shame to see your weaknesses of spirit and inferior intellect so taken advantage of. This is why we had to protect you and keep you so close to home, Katria. We knew this would happen if we ever let you out freely.”
My blood boils. I’m used to her jabs at me. But now they’re both disparaging the man who saved my life. They’re trying to turn me against the one person who has not harmed me or shown any malice toward me.
“I am not taken advantage of. I don’t know how you could possibly think it.
” I motion around us. “I want for nothing. Anything I desire, if I name it, I shall have it. My husband is kind, respectful, and gentle. You should dream of a man like him.” Because a man like him would be far better than you deserve, I wish I could say aloud to her.
“And yet he refused to have the decency to look you in the eye when he met you,” Helen says. “He won’t even consummate your marriage. Is it even valid?”
The notion that it might not be strikes a chord in me that has me sitting straighter. Nerves prickle like needles under my skin. Of course it’s valid. It has to be…I can’t lose this life too.
“Katria, you know I want to find this all deeply romantic…but this isn’t a storybook.” Laura grabs my hands. “It is strange he will not let you see him.”
“He’s not harmful.”
“Moreover, you don’t know where his wealth comes from.” Helen sighs. “Think about this logically—we’re just trying to help. There’s no way he can afford all of this from hunting alone. He demanded only a book as your dowry. What if he’s engaged in some strange, illegal black-market dealing?”
I know she’s not trying to help. Yet…Helen has a point; both of them do, although I hate to admit it.
If my husband is a fae hunter, as I suspect, to whom does he sell his game?
Who pays him for the kills? And if he does it purely for the sake of goodness and ridding the world of those beasts, where does his wealth come from?
They’re all questions I don’t have the answers to. I wish I did. Because in the absence of an explanation, doubt is now taking root.
“I’m worried about you,” Helen says.
“You have never been worried about me,” I snap. “All my life, you stepped on me.” Helen has the audacity to gasp as if she’s offended. “You turned me into your servant.”
“To protect you from the world. To ready you for it by hardening you. And you’re deflecting.
” Helen wields her words like daggers, knowing just where to strike.
“This isn’t about us anymore. If we were so horrible, then congratulations, you escaped us.
” Helen wears a thin smile, slightly smug.
She knows just how horrible she was; that expression admits it.
But she’s also right—it doesn’t matter how she and Joyce treated me anymore, I’m free of them.
I clutch Laura’s hand tightly and hope she knows the harsh truths I spoke did not apply to her.
“If you want to stay escaped, you should make sure you’re secure in your new home. ”
“Is that a threat?” I say.
Helen laughs. “I have no control over you, your marriage, or your new life. All I’m saying is, if your husband is engaged in something illegal and is clapped in irons, you could face destitution or be forced to share in his fate as a coconspirator.
If your husband is dallying with another woman and decides to replace you, then you will be out on the street.
If your husband throws his wealth around and wastes it, you will find yourself in a similar position as before… and you know what you will have to do?”
My stomach churns. I know where she’s headed with this. Yet she says it anyway.
“You will have to come crawling right back to us,” Helen proclaims as she rises to her feet, lording over me as she always did whenever Joyce wasn’t around to do it herself.
She’s the spitting image of her mother. “So if you don’t want that to happen, you should heed my warnings.
Make yourself useful to your husband. Know the circumstances you find yourself in.
Be cunning. That’s always been your problem; you never think two steps ahead, and it makes you so easy to use.
” Helen looks at Laura. “We’re leaving now. ”
“But we just got here.” Laura clings to me. “Can’t we at least stay the night?”
“I am not staying in this strange place with her strange husband.”
“Perhaps Oren could bring you back tomorrow?” I suggest to Laura, ignoring the instant guilt I feel for volunteering Oren without asking.
But I’ve done my level best to impose on him as little as possible, and I will make all my own meals for a month in gratitude for this one thing.
I wouldn’t mind some time alone with Laura; perhaps we can discuss ideas to get her out of that house faster, before she’s ruined by Joyce and Helen.
“Do not impose yourself on your sister,” Helen scolds her.
“It would be no imposition,” I insist.
“Mother would never want you here.”
Ah, Mother—the trump card. Laura rises reluctantly. Our fingers are still laced together.
“Come and visit us soon, yes?” Her eyes are dimmer, duller. I can hear a piece of my heart cracking at her pain. Be strong, I want to say. A little longer and you’ll be out of there, one way or another.
“I will visit you, yes,” I say. I will go back to that house for my sister. And maybe—maybe the next time I leave, I’ll take her with me.
“Good.” Laura throws her arms around my shoulders and gives a tight squeeze. Helen hardly looks back as she glides out of the manor, no doubt eager to report her findings to Joyce.
“Strange that your sisters would travel all this way, only to turn around and leave,” Oren says as he serves me dinner.
“I’m glad they did. Well, I’m glad one of them did,” I mutter darkly. “If they ever send word that they are coming again, respond immediately that only Laura may come. Never open the gate for Helen or Joyce. They aren’t welcome here.”
Oren stills, carafe in both hands, my wineglass still empty. “It will be up to you from now on to decide who is or is not permitted in these halls.”
“What?” The strange remark snaps me out of my angry trance. It will be up to me? Not the lord of the manor?
“Nothing.” Oren shakes his head, pours my wine. “Oh, Lord Fenwood told me to inform you that he will not be able to meet with you this evening.” With that, Oren heads back to the kitchen. Lord Fenwood hasn’t missed an evening drink in over a week. This news only feeds my uneasiness.
“Oren.” I stop him. He looks at me with a pitying gaze. He feels sorry for me. Why? I have a few guesses. But I have a nagging feeling that look has nothing to do with my family. “You would tell me if there was something wrong, right?”
“Of course. But don’t worry, everything is as we intended.” He disappears.
All through dinner I replay his strange phrasings and mannerisms in my mind. Something is wrong. Or maybe it isn’t, and my sisters got to me. I’m looking for problems when there aren’t any.
I ready myself for bed and tuck myself in. But sleep eludes me. I keep repeating my sisters’ words. Helen’s are cruel, certainly. And she no doubt said those things to tear me down. But that doesn’t make her wrong. Even Laura was concerned for me.
Should I be more worried about my situation?
What if Helen is right and this freedom and comfort that I’ve found is so fragile that it can be ripped from my grasp and shattered any second?
I clutch the duvet. It’s so soft…softer than anything I’ve ever owned.
I can’t give up this bed. I can’t give up my freedoms here. I won’t give up this life.
I’m on my feet. I throw a robe over my sleeping gown and leave my room. There’s a full moon tonight and the hallway is bright. I still briefly as I realize it’s been about a month since I arrived.
Halfway to the door I begin to second-guess myself.
If Lord Fenwood doesn’t want to be seen and doesn’t want me to know the truth about him, that’s his business.
I should leave it be. I’m about to turn around and go back to bed when I hear multiple sets of footsteps that start in the main hall, thunder down the stairway, and cross to the other wing of the manor.
That’s when I notice the letter that’s been slid under the door to the front hall.
Cool nausea sweeps over me as I pick up the envelope. My name is on it in Lord Fenwood’s handwriting. I flip it over and break the seal. The letter reads like it would in my worst nightmare:
To my wife, Katria,
I have business to attend to of a dangerous sort.
In the event I never return to these halls, I leave everything to you: the house, all its contents, and the tidy sum hidden underneath the floorboards of the closet adjacent to my chambers.
It should be enough for you to live out the rest of your days in comfort. I bequeath it all to you, wife.
And should I never return, you are a free woman and should enjoy your life as such.
Sincerely,
Lord Fenwood
The way the letter is worded…he has no intention of returning. That much is painfully apparent.
My sisters were right. I go from cold to hot as I crumple the letter in my hand. Then I throw it on the ground, grab the door handle, and twist. Damn the rules. I’m getting the truth.