✔ Mrs Mandray

11. Vulnerable

Isabella

Tomas was seemingly in a good mood. The new axe-head she brought home three nights ago seemed to garner her some favour. Not that it made much difference. Their quaint home seemed harsher in the growing winter light, the moth bitten blinds stayed drawn for longer, the outer doors closed where they had once been open for Oliver to play on the grass.

It was oppressive.

Isabella had kept herself busy maintaining the house. With the snow slowly building up on the distant hills she had taken that as a sign to do one last thorough wash of the linen and had taken to deep cleaning the bedrooms.

She tried not to sigh at the state of Oliver's room. It was no fault of his own, in fact his extensive spread of wooden toys had been kept close to the cot they called a bed. She tried not to cry at that. The horse feed box reposed as a crib and then repurposed as her son's bed was yet another reminder of how she had failed as a mother.

There had been no real expectation for Tomas to care for the boy, not after what happened and certainly not after what Tamlin did but she had hope. He had seemed honourable enough in the beginning. There was no hiding the abuse from his father, Oliver's messy room filled with his old stuff was testament enough to the elder Mandray's control over their life.

Her son was left sleeping next to bags of grain, tools, boxes, sacks of cold and the occasional mouse because of that man. They could have built another room. They were wood cutters for mercy's sake. Tomas' own mother had confessed they were somewhat carpenters themselves though there was little need for more of those in town.

Tomas, his father and grandfather had set about building this home for his future family. Three rooms. The main one downstairs was an all purpose kitchen, living room and a pantry cupboard hidden under the stairs. Two rooms off a narrow hallway overlooking the stairs had been intended as a master bedroom and a storage space.

Tradition dictated among the village that children and youngsters sleep in the main downstairs room before the fire. The elder Mandray hadn't wanted to see Oliver in the main room everyday, out in the open, so here he was.

The sheets had taken on extra dirt as a result, the dust from the coal and grain coating the sheets and no doubt her boy's lungs. Doing her best to scrub it off by the outhouse Isabella couldn't help but hold back her tears.

She blamed it on her burning hands against the washboard. The biting cold was enough to turn her hands red and then frighteningly pale but she could hardly shy away from the guilt burning in her gut. This was the best she had to offer her son.

Tomas had made no comment when he saw her coming in and out of the house, only nudging his father and jerking his head towards her. It was as if the pair were having a silent conversation as they stacked wood onto the wooden horse cart. Stomach churning uneasily Isabella began to hastily peg up the sheets. They could afford to build a new cart but not buy her a new washing line.

She would have bought it herself but money is tight in the winter months, Payment tends to come in once the wood has been delivered or in the summer when villagers pay in advance. Old grandfather Mandray took care of the finance. He was questionable at times with his maths but he was a shrewd man who triple checked his own work to ensure they didn't lose a penny.

He would know if she had taken a few extra coins. Not that he would mind the reason but she had taken a few extra coins last month for shoe repairs and the month before for Mrs Mandray's favourite tea. They were suspicious. She could never save up enough money to escape them so that wasn't the fear but...

Isabella glances around the bedsheet she's pegging onto the washing line. They're watching her again. It's obvious who's the Alpha between the two. The way the elder had a hand on Tomas' shoulder, too close to his neck to be anything other than a method of control. Carefully peering at them around the various sheets and clothes Isabella tried to make out the words through the distance.