Chapter 8
Deliverance
Was it worth it to find out the truth?
Would I rather have lived my whole life not knowing?
No.
I know who I am. I know I’m stronger than I ever thought I was. And I know now I wouldn't have stopped.
It seemed to consume me, the need to know my husband's secrets.
I explored further in Grayspires now, pushing back my growing unease with the manor itself. Grayspires seemed to loom oppressively over me, and each corner brought forth a new mystery.
What looked from a distance like a marble sculpture up close was really made of smooth, polished bone.
I even forced myself to look at the strange full-length portrait in the daytime, feel the jagged edges where a head had been ripped away.
I did not think that was the work of an animal.
And when I went back to the family Bible, to see if I could write down some of the names in it, I found the book pitted with deep gouges, making the names themselves unreadable.
Who or what had done that?
And, most critically, who was that woman?
What was she to my husband?
Jealousy gnawed at me like a mouse at the corner of a bed-post.
Maybe I was a mouse, but even a mouse has sharp little teeth.
Was she the reason my husband didn't love me? Husbands were supposed to love their wives. My Papa had truly loved my dear Mama, had spoken of her with a tear in his eye and a convulsive way of folding his hands together, as if praying to her memory.
Not Gideon, he treated me with a careless contempt I was desperate to change.
As the fall days passed by, each one dragging us inexorably toward the cold dead of winter, my unease increased. Animals had started to show up closer to the house now, and one morning I even found a dead mouse on my windowsill.
Surely no hawk or wild bird would do that.
Until one day I saw her again.
The beautiful blonde woman.
This time, she came when we were at dinner. Ada had a headache and was lying in her bed, so there was no one left in the dining room to watch me. As I heard Gideon open the front door, I followed, gathering up my skirts and darting in the shadows on mouse-light feet.
When I got close to the entryway, I slipped quickly behind a heavy velvet curtain to listen.
"Thank you," the woman said, and I heard a crinkle of paper.
Her voice was lovely, like a songbird, and I peeped jealously out, watching in astonishment as Gideon drew a large emerald necklace from a square white packet.
"Your payment," she said. "The vial was very satisfactory."
"Good," Gideon said, in his usual harsh voice, holding up a jeweler's loup to examine the necklace. "It would be well for you to not be seen here again. It might raise suspicions."
She nodded, and as he put the tool away, apparently satisfied, I withdrew in some confusion.
He was telling her not to return? How strange.
Was she not his. . .lover after all?
A dizzying feeling of relief engulfed me as I hurried back to my place at the dining table.
If there was no other woman. . .was it possible for my husband to come to love me? There was still something about him that fascinated me, something about that barely-repressed masculine vitality, the way his eyes dragged down my body.
I fervently hoped he wouldn't hear the thud of my heart, see the slick perspiration on my forehead.
"Shall I take Ada a poultice after dinner?" I asked, eager to show how useful I could be.
Gideon barely looked at me. "No. I will take her anything she requires."
"Have you always been such a devoted brother?" I asked, hoping to get him to talk on any subject. "Were you the same as a child?"
There was something that moved in Gideon's dark eyes, something that jumped. But it wasn't anything gentle. It wasn't anything kind, even though it might amuse him.
"You are babbling, wife," was all he said.
I was chastened, but too buoyed by my discovery to be defeated.
After dinner, I went to my room and dug around in the small amount of possessions I had to find the headache remedy I’d made. Ada was the only one who had been kind to me and I was going to help her. And maybe then my husband would see my good qualities.
Clutching the medicine to my chest, I ascended the stairs to the west wing where Ada's bedroom was.
Surely if Gideon saw how I cared for his sister, he would begin to appreciate me.
But, to my surprise, Mariam tried to stop me as I rounded the corner. Her nightcap was on and she held a candle aloft.
"What are you doing, girl?" she asked, and I wondered again at the strange lack of proper respect the servants had for the lady of the house. "Go back to your bed if you know what's good for you."
"But I'm going to help Gideon’s sister," I protested, pulling away from her.
"What sister?" Mariam asked, but I was too eager to show myself worthy of Gideon's regard to attend to her.
What was she even referring to? Of course I meant Ada. Who else?
It wasn't that late, but the hall was dark and I had to feel my way down to Ada's door.
As I got closer, I heard a strange squeaking sound. At first, I wasn't sure what it was. It sounded like a cat in heat maybe. Or the squeal of a pig.
But as I got closer, I realized it was Ada, making high-pitched yowls and whimpers.
What in the world was wrong? Was she in distress?
"Ada?" I called out. "Ada, are you all right?"
But she didn’t seem to hear me.
My hand closed on the doorknob and it opened before me.
I tumbled into the room with the headache cure in my hand.
"Ada, are you—oh!"
Ada was lying naked on the bed with her thighs spread wide, her pink mouth agape and her cheeks flushed. One strong, masculine hand was grasping one of her full, round breasts.
I flushed and turned to go.
But just then the man above her turned his head.
And I recognized my husband.
He had Ada's long legs raised high, tight against his shoulders, and he was plunging in and out of her cunny.
I could see the exact place their bodies met, the thick veiny length of his rod entering her puffed-up and swollen cunny with a wet, sloppy sound.
One of his hands was braced against the wall, the other was on Ada's breast, making her rosy nipple even pinker as he pinched it.
Instead of regret or shame, Gideon’s dark eyes narrowed at me, and he didn’t even pause, thrusting so hard that a lock of his midnight-black hair fell in his eyes.
“Your sister?” I shrieked. “How could you?”
His chuckle was devoid of any semblance of good humor or kindness.
"Now you see what being a nosy mouse gets you," my husband ground out. "Silly little slut. You’ll believe anything. Even an obvious lie."
My face flamed and I clutched back at the doorknob, wanting to scrub the memory from my eyes.
He had paraded another woman in front of me, lied that she was his sister, and expected me to be too foolish to figure it out.
"Oh, don't make her go," Ada said, and there was a malicious streak in her voice that I had never heard before, a saucy arrogant look in her eye. "Maybe she'll learn something here, teach her not to be such a cold fish when you go to her at night."
"I—b-but," I cried.
He’d told Ada about our time together? He said I was a cold fish?
Why wouldn't my legs work to get me out of this nightmare?
"There's no teaching her," Gideon said dismissively, thrusting so hard Ada’s breasts jiggled and shook. "She'll always be a mouse."
Tears filled my eyes as I backed away, but I couldn't move fast enough to avoid Ada's gaze–her focus unnerving as she lay on her back, her whole body shaking with each thrust, her nether lips curving around his prick and her mouth curved up in a triumphant grin.
Whimpering in horror, I stumbled out of the door just as he pulled out, spraying his release all over Ada’s beautiful breasts and elegant throat as she opened her mouth, tongue panting eagerly to receive more.
Crying in rage, I ran down the hallway, almost running into Mariam at the top of the staircase.
"I tried to warn you," she said, and her voice was unsympathetic but her hands were surprisingly gentle as she directed me back to my own room. "Stay in your bed next time."
"But—" I protested.
"She's no more the master's sister than I am," Mariam snorted. "But she runs this house all the same. Now be good or you'll get much worse than a red bottom."
"But I'm his wife!" I cried wildly.
"Don't you think," Mariam said, her wrinkled face almost leering at me in the moonlight, "that he's already gotten what he wants out of you?"
I screamed so hard I swooned, and I awoke, I know not how much later, in my own bed. And here I lay in this nightmare.
Wondering if my husband would come to me tonight.
Wondering how many nights he'd already come to me with his cock wet from another woman.
Wondering if I dared to keep him out as the floor of my room rotted beneath me.