The Bainbridge Estate

Chapter VI

Henry was gone by the time I emerged from Anne’s bedroom. The sun was cold today, just like the gluttonous heart the house had the misfortune of sheltering. I took refuge in my mother’s library, paranoia creeping up on the back of my neck. What had I done to evade being attacked by the glass jars? Were the evil forces tired of me? Did they see my uncle as a challenge, as a horseman sees a mustang as a challenge? Whatever the case was, I was exceptionally grateful for my liberty to read my mother’s books in tranquility.

Periodically, I would visit Anne and bring her meals, twisting the fabric of my blue pelisse to ease my anxiety. She would smile and say what a good housekeeper I made, and all the while, I could not help but stare at the bruise on her face. My uncle never exited his room and I only delivered him meals throughout the next three days, uttering hardly a word. Once, as I was delivering his midday meal, he spoke to me.

“Deliverance from this house is what you should pray for, Mary. Demons live inside these very walls and if they have not already, will infest you until you shrivel up,” he said as he scribed a letter--a rather long epistle, I noted.

To that I simply replied: “My name is Margaret.”

I never spoke to him again, not until the third day, when he joined Anne and me in the kitchen. I knew full well not to expect an apology for what he had done to Anne, but a little beast stirred inside my chest when he failed to do so. He simply grabbed a cup of tea and stood at the wash tub, staring out at the vast forest behind the estate.

“I simply do not understand why you are not working, Anne. You are perfectly fine. Look at you!” At this, he turned and faced us. My throat burned with unsaid words of rage and I clamped my mouth shut. “Standing and serving Margaret!” He turned around as Anne wrapped her hands around mine.

How dare he continuously insult my family! I would not take this! My family was the most important thing to me and to blatantly insult it in front of my face--well, I would not stand for it! My uncle was disgusting, heartless malady to all of humanity! He was perilous, providing every calamity he could muster up, and taking my house was the very last of it!

“Here comes that blasted lad,” he said sourly, sipping his tea. “It would have done the world a favor to drown him when I could.”

My hands curled viciously, tightening into fists. I could feel my face getting hot with detestation as Henry elbowed through the door, his bright eyes dull and downcast.

“What do you think you’re doing, slacking off? Hmm?” My uncle peered up into Henry’s face with a deep frown. “You are a waste of space, Henry Yeatman, and the lousiest excuse for a human being.”

Anne put her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. I had not realized I had hunched up with animosity. My uncle wanted to disrespect my family? He had better prepare for further damage to his pudgy face. It did not matter to me that I was a woman and he was most likely a wealthy businessowner. This was my house and my family and no one talked to them with such impertinence.

“Uncle--”I began, but his next comment overshadowed my voice.

“Your mother was a disgrace as well. I suppose the apple never fails to fall far from the tree.”

“You’ere never worthy of m’mother,” Henry replied, glaring at my uncle with such aggression, my eyes widened and I took a step back. Henry was usually unapproachable after his mysterious visits, but he radiated cruelty, his mouth a tight line, his hands curled into fists identical to mine.

“Of course I’m not worthy of a woman who was lynched for her infidelity! And you, Henry, will be lynched right along with her!”