Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Twelve

Her shoulders strained as Baines began dragging her away from Mary and the door.

"Let me go." She strained with all her might, and still he pulled her backwards. Her thoughts scattered and there was a strange roaring in her ears, yet she noticed the way her feet looked against the ancient rug with the woven pattern of wolves being speared through the chest as he hauled her toward the bed.

He was going to hurt her. Maybe he'd already hurt Mary.

"Mary, go get help!" She threw herself backwards, her skull smashing into Baines's nose with a crack.

He swore, but he didn't let go. "Mary," he commanded, "get over here."

Mary ran to his side as he shoved Constance onto the bed. Constance rolled away from him, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair with one hand and her arm with his other. He dragged her back to the middle, her scalp screaming in pain, and then he climbed on top of her, his knees straddling either side. She clawed at his face with her free hand as he bent toward her.

"That's enough of that," he hissed, grabbing her other forearm.

He stretched her arms up over her head. "Mary, lock those around her. Now, we are wasting time."

Her cousin leaned over the side of the bed. Chains above Constance's head rattled as Mary picked them up. Constance struggled, Baines's grip on her tightening. A cold manacle locked around her left wrist. Baines let go of that arm and then locked a second cuff around her other wrist.

"Don't touch me," she said, the weight of him making it hard to breathe.

"I am not the one who is going to hurt you." His voice was so calm, so sure. Icy fear coiled around inside her. "Mary, hand that gag to me."

Mary handed him a strip of cloth that had been waiting on the bedside table. He shoved it between her teeth and tied it roughly behind her head.

Constance pulled at the restraints, her chest heaving as her breathing became more and more labored.

"No Miss Allen, I'm not the one you need to fear," he said, arranging some of her curls so that they fell over her shoulder. Her skin crawled.

When her hair was to his liking, he climbed off her. Constance scrambled into a sitting position, her shift riding up, exposing her knees.

"I'm sorry," Mary said, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I want you to know I will look after your family. You needn't worry about that."

Constance's chest heaved with frustration. The chains wrapped around the headboard rattled as she twisted her wrists, trying to pull her arms free.

"This is so important. You should know you are making a noble sacrifice," Mary said. "And I'll never forget you." Her voice cracked. Baines gently wiped a tear off her cheek.

Constance's heart battered her chest. Mary was not expecting her to survive whatever was happening. She watched Baines take Mary's elbow and lead her to the door. Mary was wiping her eyes with a hankie.

"I understand how hard this is for you," Baines said to Mary. "You're doing the right thing." Mary leaned into his side. "I won't soon forget your sacrifice."

"Please," Constance tried to say, but it was a muffled plea.

Then she was alone, the only sound the dying fire and her own ragged breathing.

I don't-under-stand. I don't-under-stand. Her heart thumped.

She took a ragged breath. Think. Baines had chained her to a bed, but not for his own purposes. Her stomach clenched. What had she done to turn Mary on her? Had she said something, acted wrong somehow? Desperation crawled up her throat, choking her. In her rustic ignorance, she must have done something foolish. Even so, how did that make this alright?

She looked up at the shackles and twisted, her wrists protesting. There was no way she could slip through them, and the mahogany bed held firm, no way to break free either.

Why did Mary help him?

Her chest heaved with a sob.

Mary, who was my friend. She squeezed her eyes shut. Claws shredded the inside of her heart.

She pulled again in frustration.

Constance had thought that Mary understood her, accepted her as she was. A dark pit yawned open inside her. Mary, who had seemed not to care about her station or the state of her mother's mind. Mary, who had only been pretending.

Fresh pain sliced through her.

Moonlight shone into the prison of a room, throwing long, slanted shadows across the end of the bed.

You were a fool to think you were ever good enough for them. A fool so desperate for a better life, you didn't think twice. A dark voice whispered. Of course, they left you here, tied to a bed. Your first real friend was not a friend at all, and you should have seen it. You should have known.

She choked on a sob.

Tears slid down her cheeks, one landed on her bare knee. She scrunched up against the headboard, her arms growing tired and heavy suspended above her as she waited for whatever horror was coming next.