From What I've Tasted of Desire Pt. 04

Chapter 12: Give Me Good Fight, Dear

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The cold begins to seep through the layers of fabric that wrap around her, making her teeth chatter as she sits at the cliff edge. Not for the first time, Anna wishes she would have at least thought to bring her shawl. But the emotion that'd been running unchecked within her did not leave much room for practical thinking.

At least she hasn't wept, she thinks. And she refuses to do so. Not for such a weak-willed man. She has much life to live, yet. And she's going to enjoy it, however she can, in whatever way she wishes. In fact, as painful as this short journey has been, she's glad for it. The self reflection and pleasures it's taught her have her looking forward to the future.

Soon the darkness of night begins to give way to the dim blue of the day. A strange, liminal time that's barely a few minutes. She remembers the stories one of the kind teachers of her childhood had told her, of the still time between night and dawn, when the world was silent and doors to all manner of places held open.

She'd been frightened then, of sprites who'd steal her away. Or demons who would defile her in ways she didn't understand at such a tender age, yet was warned of relentlessly by pastors whom she now believes may have been the true demons all along.

Standing, she says a goodbye to the tumultuous sea before turning back home, suddenly more tired than she remembers ever being. If she's lucky, she may still be afforded an hour or two of sleep before duty calls.

She sighs as she tromps through the heath, skirt and petticoats held tight as she tries to keep them from catching, as well keep herself from blowing over. A storm is coming, she senses, which means everyone will be stuck within the manor. Not something she's looking forward to, but there are plenty of suitable places for she and the children to hide.

When she's finally in the manor gardens her anxiety begins to rise, finding it harder to put one foot in front of the other the closer she gets to him.

Strong, she thinks, she must be strong. She's more than any man she met mere days ago.

It's then that she stops, held frozen by senses she can't explain. She's not alone. Turning, arms hugging her chest against the cold and nerves, she sees him, tall and slumped over beside a tree, looking disheveled and for all the world like he's about to pass out at any time.

She only hesitates for a moment before making her way to him, frowning as she does so, making sure to leave space between them.

"Robert, what are you doing out here," she asks with concern, but still she can hear the hurt and betrayal she can't hide. "You shouldn't be out of bed, you're barely fit to-"

"Where is it," he grounds out between bared teeth. With his shirt untucked and hair standing in all directions as it stirs in the increasingly violent wind, he looks like an animal.

She feels the beginnings of hesitance in his presence. This isn't like before. Not like the study. As cruel and unhinged as he appeared, he still had all his faculties. This is far different. And far more dangerous. She takes a step back, trying to create some distance.

"I don't know wh-"

"Mrs. Flynn told me she saw you take it," he bursts out. "She told me! Where have you hidden it?"

Another step.

The anger burns hot through her, flaming high at his words. How dare he presume to insist on such a trifle of a thing when he hides such truths from her.

Jaw set and back straight she replies coldly. "I wouldn't know, sir. Perhaps you should ask your wife."

She turns from him then, but not before seeing the shock cross his face, with a certain satisfaction. But she doesn't take more than three steps before he's on her, grabbing her arm and whipping her around, savagely taking hold of her face in a painful grip, while tugging her towards him.

"So, that's how it is then," he growls in her face, fear replacing any kind of anger she had. "You're going to stay here with your master?"

"Let me go," she demands with what little grit and boldness she still possesses. "Let go!"

"Are you going to crawl for him? Lick his boots? Play his whore?"

Somehow in her struggling she escapes his hold, giving him a slap as hard as she can muster across his face, silencing his mad ravings.

"I am no man's whore. Least of all yours." She should leave it there, she knows, but she just can't resist the chance to hurt him as he has her. "But if I were going to be, I'd choose him - or any man who treated me with respect."

The blue of the coming dawn has darkened to a ominous grey/green, the world around her appearing void of color.

After a long stillness between them, she turns away once more, so many things aroused within her she can't even name any of her feelings.

But yet again he's on her, possessed by some madness of his drugs, demons, and pure hate. The ensuing struggle between them is brutal and savage as she tries to break free from his vicious grip, writhing and scratching and kicking. But, even in the deplorable state he's in, he's much too strong to fight against.

They fall into the rough grass within the copse of trees, just outside of view of the windows, and she knows no one will see them. No one will come to her rescue. She must find the strength to fight against him herself, or suffer her fate.

"No," she grunts as she continues to fight him, trying to keep him from catching her wrists. "Robert, stop!"

"You are not blonde," he huffs into her face, "you are not tall, nor thin." With some effort he manages to trap one hand above her head, and it's not long before the other joins it. "But you don't have to worry, Anna. You are just as gullible, wide-eyed, and undefiled as he likes."

She has no idea what he's raving about, unable to even understand him as she continues to kick and knee what spots of him she can without the use of her hands.

"Robert stop this," she cries, no longer able to hold back the emotions exploding inside her. "Please, Robert! It's me! Please, it's me, don't do this!"

His head drops into the crook of her neck, kissing and licking her there, lovingly. "I'm so sorry, my sweet Anna." And the contrast with the violence leaves her dizzy. "You don't understand," he grunts into her ear after she tries to throw him off her again.

"I can't let him take you, too. I won't let him. He takes everything, pet. He takes everything and then he dangles it there to torment me."

She shakes her head, energy spent, crying as a light mist begins around them. "Please let me go, Robert. Please, please."

"I can't let you go, pet," he whispers, trying to soothe her, but she only hates him more for it. "I can't."

She knows what comes next, trying to reconcile with her fate, until he grunts, body falling heavy atop her making her huff with the weight of him suddenly on her chest, stealing the breath from her.

She tries to blink away the sprinkle of rain as she slides her wrists from beneath his limp hand, attempting to roll his dead weight off her. She does so with help from her savior. It's a tall woman, grunting with effort beside her as she assists in peeling Robert away, before dumping him in the wet grass.

"Bloody hell, he's in for it now," the stranger says with some amazement as she stares down at the unconscious man.

Anna can barely register her with the rain coming down harder and the adrenaline and fear that's built within her.

"Are you alright," the woman asks with concern.

She can only nod numbly, unable to speak.

"Well, then I think it best we go inside before the storm gets worse." She helps Anna to her feet, making her notice the height of her.

"What about him," Anna asks, shivering beneath her dress.

The woman raises a brow, lips pursed with disappointment as she eyes Robert. "I'd say it's dangerous to leave him out in the cold rain, but in this instance I think he quite deserves it, don't you agree?"

Anna nods, not able to think much beyond that.

"I'll send someone for him after," the woman assures. "Come." She gestures with her head, hands holding onto Anna's arms. "I've a horse nearby."

They begin walking, heads down against the rain. "You mean a curricle," Anna asks.

The woman only laughs, light yet husky, much like her voice. "No, I mean a horse. I hate carriages."

The woman grabs the reins of her horse when they come near, holding a hand out for Anna. "I'm on my way to the manor just there, as I'm assuming are you."

Anna frowns, allowing the stranger to help her into the saddle. It's awkward, sitting astride the horse in such a way, not that she's ever been atop a horse in any way. But it becomes even more of a tight fit when the woman makes her own way up, sitting in front of Anna.

With no where to place her hands, she settles them on the woman's mid-section, as lightly and inoffensively as she can. She feels a deep gratitude for this stranger, and realizes she doesn't even know who she is.

"I am Anna Smith," she introduces, holding on a bit tighter as the horse begins to move faster than a trot, her body going stiff from fear of falling over. "I am the governess at Heathside Manor."

"Governess." The woman shakes her head, grinning as much as Anna can tell. "I could never. I'm not fond of children. So needy and... sticky."

"Sticky?"

"I have nephews," she explains, "and it's always a joy to see them, yet every time I do it's always a battle to try to keep away from their sticky hands. And somehow they always end up on my face, or hair."

Anna smiles, this woman somehow making her feel more relaxed despite everything that's just happened.

As they come within the courtyard, Anna begins to feel her sore heart a bit more, the numbness beginning to wear off. She feels sick to her stomach.

With the woman's help, she slides from the horse, hands placed on her shoulders. They were strong, Anna noticed - steady. As were the hands that held her waist.

"Please ignore my rudeness," the woman says, with all serious care, eyes appearing nervous, "I am Hester Hall." Taking Anna's hands, she squeezes them firmly. "I apologize profusely for my husband."

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Chapter 13: Beware the Patient Woman

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"Thank you." Hester drapes the quilt Martha hands her across Anna's shoulders. Hester sits directly in front of her while rubbing her hands up and down Anna's shivering arms. Beside them, the kitchen fire roars in the large stone oven, yet even still, Anna can't seem to get warm.

"Darling, we really should get you out of these wet clothes," Hester says, expression one of genuine worry. It makes the guilt within Anna eat away at her even faster.

"Oh my dear! What happened to you child?" Mrs. Flynn rushes into the room, stopping just inside with a hand over her mouth. She looks as if she threw on her dress and pinned up her hair with some haste.

"Just got caught in the storm is all, Mrs. Flynn," Anna explains, electing to leave out everything pertaining to Robert. Her eyes catch Hester's, and she sees the other woman understand.

The housekeeper comes closer, petting Anna's head gently. "I'll have Martha draw you a hot bath, and we'll get you out of this dress before you catch your death, then." She stops short, finally seeming to notice Hester with a quiet gasp of surprise. "Oh..."

Anna's eyes go wide at the old woman's look of pure joy, her wrinkled hand caressing Hester's face adoringly. Hester's smile is wide as she holds Mrs. Flynn's hand to her cheek.

"My dear! I wasn't expecting you to come yourself. And so quick."

Hester raises a brow, head tilting with a playful air. "Oh you know me, always running in to save the day."

"It's been too long," Mrs. Flynn declares, and Anna thinks she sees tears in her eyes.

"It has," Hester agrees with a bittersweetness that fills the room.

"You must see the children. Miss Smith has done wonders with them." At that she turns to Anna, pride all over her excited face. "But of course that can wait till after we get you both warmed up- Oh my!" She stands suddenly straight, mouth agape. "I've forgotten about Mr. Hall."

Hester stands beside her, taking her hands. "It's alright, Mrs. Flynn."

"No, no you don't understand, dear. He woke and made a mad dash out into the storm! Quite incensed and-"

"It's alright," Hester assures, "I've sent your man after him. They should be back shortly."

"I suppose he'll be needing a hot bath, too then."

Hester shrugs with a roll of her eyes. "Bandages more like."

"Bandages?"

Hester raises her brows, mouth open as she tries to come up with something. "The idiot has gone and knocked himself out."

"Oh dear. Is it serious? Shall we call for the doctor?"

"Oh no," Hester reassures with a smile. "I'd rather him feel the pain of his utter stupidity."

Mrs. Flynn nods, returning her smile politely until she understands what Hester has said, face falling in shock.

"Bandages will do just fine, Mrs. Flynn."

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Anna pauses in her brushing, wet hair hanging limp as she stairs at her reflection. Leaning forward, she runs her fingertips across the bruises left on her cheeks, a near perfect print of fingers and thumb on either side of her face.

She blinks back tears, trying to push away the images from the morning - the memory of utter helplessness and terror crippling her ability to forget.

Her stomach churns dangerously, making her dash for the washbasin. It's as if she's caving in on herself, mind stuck in a rut she can't escape from. With a frustrated cry she slams her palms on the table, feeling a desperate urge to tear the room apart.

Before she can, there's a knock on her door, light and hesitant. Wrapping the robe tighter around herself, she waits for Mrs. Flynn to enter. She's taken aback when it's Hester who peeks around.

"Knock, knock," she says with grin, stepping just inside the room, as if waiting for permission to invade Anna's space. "I've just come to check on you."

Anna releases a heavy breath, trying to control the complexities of emotion welling up within her. She attempts to focus on something - anything to keep herself together, settling on the Junoesque form of Hester.

She was beautiful in an elegant and dignified way, tall and lithe, with dark red hair coiled in a loose bun with a braid. She wore very little makeup, and no jewelry to speak of, but the most astonishing thing were her clothes.

A long, well-fitted man's banyan is layered over a waistcoat, and a shirt tucked into a rather drab looking skirt falling straight and close to her legs, without the layers upon layers of petticoats. All of it topped off with a neckcloth that matched the color of her hair.

She looks as if she raided her husband's wardrobe. Except none of these things would ever fit Robert, as well-tailored as they were to fit the womanly curves of their owner.

She's captivating, and Anna wonders if she can recreate the image with paints.

Chin high but eyes low, Anna speaks. "I don't know," she begins in a tremulous voice, "I don't know if I'm ok."

Head tilting with sympathy, Hester makes her way swiftly across the room. She holds Anna's arms, thumbs stroking against them reassuringly. It's quickly becoming Anna's favorite form of comfort.

But the woman's presence creates such confusion, Anna can barely comprehend it. She's entirely too gracious and understanding considering how they first met, any other woman would've stood by her husband. But for all appearances, she seems more concerned with Anna's mental well-being than her husband's physical one.

Would she be so caring and understanding if she knew the extent of she and Robert's relationship?

Hester raises the back of her fingers against Anna's cheek, caressing the bruises there with a gentleness that has Anna's throat feeling tight, closing her eyes against the sting of tears.

"You've suffered a trauma. There's no need to know anything. And there's certainly no rush to be ok."

Vision blurry, Anna peers up at her, head stuffed with contradictions and fears. "Why are you so kind to me?"

Hester gives a worried frown. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She can't answer, too afraid of watching this lovely woman look on her with scorn. She swallows hard, willing herself to speak. But she sees it when it becomes too late, comprehension alighting across Hester's face. And Anna waits with bated breath for the spewing of vitriol to come.

But it never does.

Instead, a queer kind of smile lifts the corners of Hester's lips, a look of good humor and sympathy on her face.

"No worries, love," she says kindly. "You're welcome to whatever you wish. Though, I would suggest not at the current moment, with things how they are."

Anna leans away, not completely sure Hester understands. But her knowing look tells Anna that, yes, she does, and she still couldn't care less.

It's unsettling, yet also... fascinating.

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Chapter 14: Kaleidoscopic

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Anna comes down the stairs nervously, one slow step at a time, her hand choking the banister. But she breathes a little easier when she sees there's nothing to show Robert's been down here - or anyone for that matter. The house is eerily still and silent.

The further down she goes she begins to hear voices, Mr. Marriott's to be exact, deep and... hesitant. She desperately needs to know what's happening within this house, not to mention what's known among the staff and her employer.

Creeping as quietly as her shoes on the hard wood will allow her, she stands beside Marriott's study doors, listening to the voices within.

"-expect you to come yourself."

"You said my husband was ill, of course I came." Anna recognizes Hester's smoky voice, and she leans in a bit closer.

"I sent that letter yesterday. How the devil did it reach you so quickly, not to mention the time it'd take you to come here?"

It's silent for a moment, neither Marriott nor Hester speaking, and even though there's a solid door between Anna and the study, she can almost feel the uncomfortable atmosphere within the room.

"I'm a fast rider," Hester says in explanation, with a mocking tone.

"Indeed." She hears the rustle of fabric followed by a few muffled steps. "I remember how much you enjoy... riding. But it's almost as if you were nearby - waiting."

Another stretch of taut silence. "Now why would I do that?"

"Hester, I don't know what you and Hall are doing, or planning, but I'm finished. I've tried to help your husband. I have held out an olive branch to you both-"

"Oh, how kind," she interrupts, mocking him once again.

More footsteps, this time coming harder than before. "No more, do you hear me. I'm done trying to be a friend."

Hester sighs, long and dramatic. "That is a pity. As I considered you to be among my finest of friends. I suppose I will have get on without you."

"Yes, you will," Marriott snaps back. "You can continue to drive your reputation into the ground, and Robert can continue to drown in his self-pity. But I'm finished with both of you. As soon as he is able, I want you both gone."

Anna breathes softly, her curiosity clambering to understand.

"May I at least see the children before I go?"

Marriott drops heavily into his chair, sighing tiredly. "Do you think that's wise? You won't be seeing them again. What would be the point, Hester?"

"It's the closest I can come to seeing Eliza," she responds, a sad ache coming from her words.

"Yes, fine," he gives in. "But not alone. Their governess will be with them, understood?"

"Of course."

"You've met her, their governess?"

Anna holds her breath.

"I have," Hester answers simply.

Anna expects more, the conversation seeming to have stalled, but it remains quiet until Hester stands, saying her goodbyes in her sardonic way she seems to always address Marriott.

Anna hurries away, only making it two steps up before the doors open.