“[Roderick] admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloom which thus afflicted him could be traced to a more continued illness—indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution—of a tenderly beloved sister, his sole companion for long years, his last and only relative on earth.”
Chapter Five
The first time Roderick touched me was when I was fifteen.
But first, I must rewind the story.
Seventeen months after the night Roderick had yelled at me, my father died. I can’t say I wasn’t suspecting it. I was fully aware that my father had gone down the same dark path my mother had never returned.
He headed back to the city a few more times before finally returning to Usher Manor where he shut himself away from everyone. Everything in my life seemed like an endless case of déjà vu: first my mother and now my father. Before their untimely ends, both had complained of headaches and sensitivity to the light. Both had wanted to be left alone in their rooms. Whenever they did venture out into Usher Manor, it was if the world did not exist. One look at the cracks in the wall would send them scurrying back into their rooms. The cracks were not a product of my imagination as Roderick liked to insist. If my parents were terrified, then it was with good reason.
I attended a third funeral in the Usher family graveyard. I had become used to it by now. I persuaded Roderick to at least invite Mr. Kennedy since he had worked with our father. I told Roderick that he needed a friendly face for support, but really, I wanted to see Mr. Kennedy for my own purposes. I wanted to know that there was some type of sanity out in the real world—that life went on normally for some.
Roderick begrudgingly invited Uncle Henry to the funeral. Uncle Henry was now our last relative. Through the whole service, he constantly stared over at me and Roderick, a look of intense curiosity on his face. He had come alone, leaving his wife and children, my two cousins, at their home in Virginia. Despite our first interaction all those years ago, I had come to feel a sense of unease about my uncle. I knew he was here for one thing and one thing only. I tried to ignore him as I sat between Roderick and Mr. Kennedy.
When the funeral was over, I remained seated while Mr. Kennedy took my hand in consolation. Roderick had already removed himself, and I saw Uncle Henry approach him, whispering something in Roderick’s ear. I frowned. Surely Roderick wanted to have nothing to do with that man. Much to my surprise, Roderick and Henry began walking back towards the manor.
“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy,” I said, lost in thought. My brother and uncle were already in the house. I ran to catch up.
Richard greeted me at the door. “Where did my brother and uncle go?” I asked out of breath.
“To the parlor, Lady Madeline.”
Before I could even open the parlor door, I could already hear raised voices.
“This house is not yours!” I heard Roderick exclaim. “My grandfather passed it to my father, and my father passed it to me.”
“Where’s the proof for your statement?” Uncle Henry challenged. “I have not seen your father’s signature to testify to this.”
I stormed into the room. “Uncle Henry, why do you come into our home and demand answers on the day of our father’s funeral? We invited you here in good faith since you are now our only remaining family and you take to raising your voice at my brother.”
Henry visibly flushed. I couldn’t tell if he was angered or surprised by my outburst. “Madeline, I’ve not seen you since you were eight years old. You’ve grown up in the image of your mother.”
“Do not seek to flatter me, Uncle,” I snapped. “Usher Manor now belongs to Roderick.” I turned my focus on my silent brother. “Tell him!”
It was Roderick’s turn to look at me in shock with my display of emotion. I had the urge to slap him across the face. I wanted him to stand up to our uncle and hold firm on what was his. “Madeline, you shouldn’t be in here.”
“This is my house too, Roderick, and if Uncle Henry professes to steal it from us, he has a fight on his hands.”
“I have come to take what is rightfully mine,” Henry said.
“Usher Manor falls to me,” Roderick said forcefully. “Not you. Don’t think you can barge into my household and demand I hand over the deeds to this house to you. And I have prepared for something like this to happen.” From inside his jacket, Roderick produced a piece of thick paper. “My father’s final will and testament.” He handed the paper to our uncle. “Signed in his hand.”
Henry peered closely at the paper, as if looking for a tell-tale sign that the signature was a fake.
“Does that satisfy your need for proof?” Roderick asked in a mocking tone.
Henry looked up at both of us, loathing etched into his features. “You two have no idea the secrets this house holds, do you?”
I swallowed. The family curse instantly struck my mind. Roderick made a sudden move, as if to strike our uncle. I quickly hit the palm of my hand against his chest. “Stop.” I said, keeping my eyes on Henry. “What secrets?” I ventured to ask.
Henry curled his lips. “You two can’t even begin to imagine what this family has done to itself over the years. I can hazard a guess as to how your mother and my brother died.”
Roderick tried to move again, but I kept my hand firmly across his chest. “Stop speaking in riddles, Uncle. What are you suggesting?”
He laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find out in time.” He looked around the parlor. “In the meantime, enjoy this house while you have it. If you had given it to me, I would have demolished it instantly. Sooner or later, you’ll be begging I take it from you.”
“Get out of my house,” Roderick said through gritted teeth.
Henry sneered. “Gladly.” He departed from the parlor with an almost over dramatic flip of his coat.
But I was not finished with him. I gathered the courage to chase after him a few seconds after he left.
Henry was at the front entrance, taking his hat haughtily from Richard.
“Uncle,” I called out. “Leave us,” I say next to Richard who goes obediently without a word.
“What do you want, Madeline?”
“I am sorry to have yelled at you in such a manner,” I said.
“I don’t want your apologies.”
I gritted my teeth, trying to control myself from making a demeaning remark. What I had come to say to him had nothing to do with Usher Manor. “May I show you something?”
Henry furrowed his eyebrows. “If you must.”
From a pocket from my dress I produced a few of the letters my mother had kept in her jewelry box. My questions were answered before I had even asked a single question. But I asked anyway, “Do you recognize these letters?” I swallowed. “They belonged to my mother.”
For once, Henry was speechless. He looked at the letters and then to me. We were as two silent statues, waiting for one of us to break the silence.
He finally nodded. “I recognize them.”
“Are they from you?” I ventured to ask next.
“Have you read them?” he countered instead, his voice lowering.
“Not yet,” I admitted. I remembered the day I had gone into my mother’s room and recovered the mystery letters. It had been a few weeks after her death. But I had never read them, too afraid of what I would find there. But I had easily figured out that the script on the envelope was in a man’s hand.
How I had concluded that the letters had been written by Henry came about sometime after the day I had first mentioned the letters to my father. He had known about the letters. I remembered his face the day I told him and the expression that shadowed his face. I remembered that his expression seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember at the time where I had seen that same look. It wasn’t until later than I realized it was the same look he threw at my mother whenever Henry’s name was mentioned.
Henry made a move to snatch the letters from me. But I was too quick. “Are they from you?” I repeated.
“Why haven’t you read them?” he said, trying once more to divert away from the question.
“My mother’s private life is none of my business. If she never shared these with me, then it was with good reason. And I wish to honor her secrets.” And that is the truth.
Henry holds out one of his hands, his eyes looking desperate. “Give me those letters.”
“No,” I said calmly.
“Then I guess I won’t answer your question.” He put his hat on his head then. “Good bye, Madeline.”
I stared after him as the front door closed. His refusal to answer me has my heart pounding in sudden terror.
By the time I made it back to the parlor, still trying to recover from my uncle’s odd behavior, I find Roderick slumped into a chair, massaging his head. I took a deep breath, remembering the argument prior to my discussion with my uncle. I found myself suddenly confused. After years of being stuck in this house, I had defended it. Uncle Henry was perfectly willing to take it from us, but we had denied him. My opportunity to leave was lost when my uncle departed from this house.
One last thought unnerved me: Uncle Henry knew what horrible secrets lied deep within Usher Manor. But he also held one final secret that I feared I’d never learn. And I knew that secret had something to do with me.
* * *
With Uncle Henry gone, Roderick retreated to his bedroom, complaining of another headache. This left me and Mr. Kennedy alone in the library.
“I hope you’re uncle didn’t cause you too much trouble,” Mr. Kennedy said.
“He wanted the house.” I wasn’t about to tell him about my other concerns dealing with my mother’s mystery letters. I was still quite adamant in my refusal to read them. The letters were going to remain mysteries until my uncle decided to share their secrets with me.
“Oh.”
“We’re never going to see him again.”
“But no matter his faults, surely you still want to keep in contact with him. He’s all you and Roderick have left.”
I didn’t answer.
“I’m terribly sorry about your father, Madeline,” Mr. Kennedy said quietly.
I stared at the red embers coming from the nearby fire. What was I supposed to say?
“You’re too young to have witnessed so much death.”
“What are your feelings on death?” I finally asked him, emotionless, firmly keeping my focus on the fire. I had the urge to stick my hand in the flames.
“Do you mean in relation to religion?”
I shrugged. “Death. Dying in general.”
“I try not to think upon it.” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “And neither should you.”
“I’ve always wondered if I’ll know the moment of my death,” I said. “And when I know it, will I be frightened? Will I try to run?” I turned to look at him then. “Sometimes I fear I will never leave this house. My mother and father both died here—not somewhere else in some terrible accident. I think I would have preferred them to have died elsewhere than trapped in their darkened rooms.”
He looked at me with a mix of astonishment and pity. “Don’t say such things. You don’t mean it.”
I smiled sadly. “But that’s the thing, Mr. Kennedy. I do mean them. That’s what scares me.” Before I could stop myself, I got up from my seat and squeezed myself next to Mr. Kennedy. “I think this house will be the death of me.”
Mr. Kennedy tried to move as far away from me as he could, but he remained seated nonetheless. “Madeline, you don’t know what you’re saying. It’s been a long day. Maybe you should go to your room and—”
“What? Sleep?” I snapped. “And pretend that tomorrow will be a better day?” I shook my head, reaching for his hand. “You don’t understand.” I lowered my voice. Uncle Henry’s voice echoed the word “secrets” in my head. “There’s a curse.”
A smile appeared at the corner of his lips, but he held it back. “A curse?”
“Yes. A family curse. Every member of the Usher family has died because of it.”
“Madeline, there’s no such thing.”
“Is there?” I demanded. “The day I moved to this house was also the day of my grandfather’s funeral. Three years later, my mother. Close to three years after that, now my father.” I grasped desperately at his hands. I had struggled to keep my voice firm, but it began to crumble. “What if I’m next? Or Roderick? I don’t think I can handle it.”
Mr. Kennedy suddenly grabbed my face, his own mere inches from mine. “You’re not going to die, Madeline. Do you understand me?” He lightly shook my head. “Do you understand? You’re letting your emotions and fears get the best of you.”
I felt my eyes give way to tears. “Why does everyone keep dying?” I finally cried.
Mr. Kennedy pulled me towards his body and held me as I cried on his shoulder. He gently ran a hand through my hair while I wrapped my arms around him. This was the closest I’d ever been to him, and even through my desolation I felt safer, calmer.
It was then that I heard a creak at the door. I lifted my head from Mr. Kennedy’s shoulder just enough to see a small gap in the door.
* * *
“Do you want to go out today?” Roderick asked me one afternoon.
It had neared two months since our father’s death. Roderick had spent those two months going back and forth from the manor to the city, conducting business with Mr. Kennedy and trying to keep the firm afloat and in order. I barely had any time to be with Roderick, and when we did spend time together, he was usually moody and fidgety. Today was the first day I had seen him stress free and well rested.
“Out?” I repeated.
“Well, we won’t be going anywhere necessarily. Just on our own grounds.”
I was a bit disappointed that he wasn’t taking me to go shopping or to a fancy restaurant, but this suited me anyway since I hardly got to see him.
“Like a picnic?” I offered.
He shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Have Mrs. Franklin fix us up something simple.”
An hour later I met Roderick downstairs with a blanket and a basket containing some bread, cheese, and wine.
“Wine?” he asked. “Don’t think that now I’m your only guardian I’m going to allow you to get drunk?”
“Oh, Roderick, we need to have a little fun in this house. I promise not to drink. Much.” I giggled when I saw that he didn’t like my joke.
We headed outside and I instantly noticed that Roderick had trouble with the sun, but he trekked on for my sake. We walked for about twenty minutes until we neared the edge of the forest which offered shade from the heat of the day.
“Is this fine?” he asked.
“Perfect,” I said, unfolding the blanket for us to sit on.
For about an hour, things were going well. I was beginning to think that maybe the family curse had yet to strike Roderick. He laughed at my jokes and he was far more talkative than usual. There was no hint of the horrible things that had occurred to us in the last several years of our life.
“How are things with your lady friend?” I asked teasingly.
“My what?”
“Your lady friend! Mr. Kennedy mentioned a girl you had your eyes on several years back. I never heard either of you mention her again. I think her name was Elizabeth.”
Roderick was laid back on his elbows. “You still remember that conversation?”
“I have a good memory.” I tapped him repeatedly on the arm, employing my duty as the annoying little sister to good use as was expected. “Come on, tell me. You hardly ever talk about work and you never talk about people you’ve met. I need to know who my future sister-in-law is.”
Roderick sat up and I realized I had pushed him too far. Something flickered over his eyes. He was clearly uncomfortable. “She got married. I no longer talk to her.”
I sagged where I was. “Oh. I’m sorry.” I attempted to try and smooth things over. “Well, her lose, right?”
“I don’t think I’m the marrying type, Madeline.”
“Oh, nonsense. I’m sure you’ll find someone.”
“Just like you’ll find someone,” he said.
“If you ever let me out of this house,” I mumbled.
“Do you like Mr. Kennedy?” he blurted.
The question felt like a slap to the face. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I think my feelings for Mr. Kennedy were deeper than his feelings for me. After all, I think he still thought me a child. “I like him as a friend,” I finally answered. “He’s like another brother to me.”
He smiled. “I’m your favorite though, right?”
“Of course!” I laughed to ease the tension that had developed.
Time seemed to go by before I knew it. It was late afternoon and the sun was low in the sky. The wine was all gone. I had eaten my entire portion of food, but Roderick still had a bit left over which he now began to pick at. His mood seemed to have shifted rather suddenly within the last hour. He tried to not let me see that the sunlight was bothering his eyes.
As we sat watching the sun go from yellow to a red-orange, Roderick turned to me and said, “Lay back.”
“Why?” I asked, not really paying him any attention.
“Because I’m your brother.”
That was all it took for me to obey. Ever since that day he had yelled at me about the family curse, I had made it my mission to never frustrate him again.
I fell roughly on to my back. Stray blades of grass and flower petals that rested on the blanket floated up upon my impact. I continued to stare up at the sky. One of the clouds looked like a rabbit. I was about to show Roderick my discovery when I felt my skirt lift up above my ankles.
The rabbit in the sky: that’s all I focused on. I didn’t once look at Roderick.
My skirt continued up over my knees. Roderick had positioned himself over me now, one leg in between my legs to keep them apart. I felt his hand trail up along the inner part of my thigh. Finally, his hand reached right where no one had ever touched me before.
I gave a gasp. His hand and fingers pushed harder against me.
After about a minute or two, Roderick groaned, as if frustrated that he had not received what he wanted, and fell onto his back beside me.
I frowned. The rabbit in the sky had vanished.
* * *
We received a surprise visit from Mr. Kennedy the second week of March.
He patted a satchel around his shoulder. “Roderick wanted me to deliver him some files. Plus he needs to put some signatures on a few items. Is he alright? I’ve not seen him for several months now, and I only hear from him through letters asking me to mail him some things.”
Where to begin? Roderick seemed to have abandoned the law firm, hiring Mr. Kennedy and others to be in charge and report any mishaps to him since he still had complete ownership of the business. He had resorted to continuing business in our parents’ bedroom, which he now occupied fully. He complained that his own bedroom was too small. Our parents’ bedroom was indeed the largest in the manor, but his previous bedroom had been just as large, so I didn’t understand his demand to move. I had a feeling, though, it was to separate himself farther from me after the incident over the summer. We now each occupied our own wing of the manor. This didn’t bother me one bit. Ever since that day he had touched me, the blanket against my back and the rabbit in the sky, I had become uncomfortable around him. He was no longer the brother I used to know.
“Roderick is not himself,” was all I could say to Mr. Kennedy, relieved by his appearance.
“He’s not been himself for a while now I suspect,” he answered in reply.
“He shouldn’t order you to make your way all the way up here like this. The traveling cannot be pleasant.”
“No, but I always get to see one good thing when I come here.” He smiled.
I felt my cheeks redden. Whenever he was around me I couldn’t help it. I still remembered that night in the library after my father’s funeral when he had held me. It meant everything in the world to me, but I still had no idea of Mr. Kennedy’s feelings. He was twenty-two years old, the same age as Roderick, and I was only fifteen. Mild flirtation was as far as it could go.
I was thankful for an interruption when Roderick’s manservant Richard came down the stairs.
“Mr. Kennedy, Master Roderick has been waiting for your arrival.”
Mr. Kennedy gave me once last look and followed Richard up the stairs.
I rushed towards the kitchen once Mr. Kennedy was out of sight.
“Mrs. Franklin!” I called.
“Yes, yes! What’s all this shouting?” Mrs. Franklin emerged from a room. “Lady Madeline, is something the matter?”
“No, Mrs. Franklin. I just came to tell you that we have another person eating dinner with us tonight.”
I wasn’t ready for Mr. Kennedy to leave after visiting Roderick. I figured if he ate dinner he’d have to stay the night and that was one more night I felt safer.
* * *
My plan succeeded. Mr. Kennedy couldn’t refuse the battering of my eyelashes when I begged him to stay for dinner and depart the next morning.
We finished our dinner and removed ourselves to the parlor where Mr. Kennedy entertained me with tales of city life.
“I miss living in the city,” I told him honestly. “It’s dreadfully dull here most of the time. I miss shopping most of all.”
“Don’t think you’re missing much.” He took a sip of the brandy he had poured himself minutes before. “Too many people on the streets for my taste. Can’t go for a walk without bumping into someone. Don’t get me started on the beggars.”
“Better to be surrounded by people than have absolutely no one.”
He eyed me closely. “Are you still afraid of this house?”
So he hadn’t forgotten that evening in the library.
“I’ve tried to…cope.” I forced a smile. “Some days are better than others. Roderick doesn’t—” I stopped abruptly.
“Yes?” Mr. Kennedy looked at me questionably.
I bit my lower lip. “Roderick doesn’t help matters when he hardly talks to me.” Mr. Kennedy remained silent. I decided to press my advantage. “May I ask you something?”
“Anything.” He raised the glass of brandy to his lips.
I wasn’t sure how to proceed with the question, feeling foolish and impossibly naïve. “Has my brother had any dealings with…with…well…other women?”
Mr. Kennedy nearly choked on the brandy. “Madeline, I don’t think you should be raising this subject with me. If Roderick thought I betrayed his confidence—”
“It was back over the summer and I asked Roderick about that woman you had mentioned at my birthday a couple years ago. Remember?”
After thinking a moment, Mr. Kennedy nodded.
“I was just trying to make conversation with Roderick, trying to see if anything had come about with that woman, and it seemed to make him rather uncomfortable. He said she had gotten married.”
“Elizabeth?” Mr. Kennedy asked.
“That’s the name you mentioned, yes.”
Mr. Kennedy hunched over onto his knees. “Several years back, Elizabeth was a receptionist in your father’s office. I noticed over time the way Roderick would look at her. He was enchanted by her. She was gorgeous: blonde hair, blue eyes, and only a few years younger than us.”
“She sounds lovely,” I said, moving forward in my seat, eager to hear more.
“I kept trying to get Roderick to ask her to go to dinner, but Roderick would always get so embarrassed.” He laughed. “Roderick loved to complain about how fortunate I was to be able to converse properly with women while he could never get past saying hello.” He turned serious. “I think Roderick did manage to finally ask her out to dinner one night. But a few months later Elizabeth was married to someone else. I think it really hit Roderick hard. He’s always so wrapped up in business that I’ve never seen him approach another woman.”
He approached me, I wanted to blurt. “I’m sure he’ll meet someone one day,” I ended up saying. “I’m just concerned for him is all.”
He smiled. “I really must go to bed. I want to leave early tomorrow morning.”
“You will not stay for one more day?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.” We both stood up at the same time. “I probably won’t be able to wish you goodbye tomorrow, so I’ll leave you this.”
I felt his lips brush against my cheek. They remained there longer than they should have, but I didn’t push him away. He pulled away and for the first time I saw a hint of pink spread over his face.
“Goodnight, Lady Madeline.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Kennedy.”
We both exited the parlor and coming down the stairs at the same time was Roderick.
“Just heading to my room, Roderick,” Mr. Kennedy said as he passed Roderick on the stairs, keeping his head down to cover his reddened face.
“Goodnight,” Roderick said in an even tone, keeping his eyes on me the whole time.
I smiled awkwardly at him before I head in another direction. I knew that Roderick had seen both our flushed faces.
* * *
It was the last week of March. I sat in my bedroom with the secret letters spread out before me on the bed. I reached for one at random. I stared at the script on the envelope. The writing was thick and dark black, but my mother’s name was written out beautifully. I lifted the top of the envelope to pull out the paper inside. I stopped. I still couldn’t do it.
I put the letters back in my desk drawer before I exited my room.
As I was heading down the stairs, I heard piano music coming from the parlor. I quietly opened the door to discover Roderick at the piano, his back to me. The music was slow and precise. There was a painful sadness to the sound.
I slowly approached Roderick, not wishing to startle him. He looked briefly at me as I sat next to him on the bench and continued to play the tune. I watched his long, almost skeletal, fingers hit the keys. I sat quietly, listening as the music seemed to grow in sadness.
It was at that moment that I could feel a wave of pain emanating from Roderick. It was a rare feeling for me to experience. Occasionally, Roderick and I could tell if one of us was sad. Such occasions included our parents’ deaths. But there were a few other times in the past that I could feel something from him without him having to say a word. In this moment, at this time, the feeling I was getting seemed to be something more than sadness. It was more like loneliness.
When the song was done, I finally asked, “That was sad.”
Roderick removed his hands from the piano. He attempted to smile, but I knew he was still hiding how he really felt from me. “I just felt like playing it.”
“May I play something?” I asked.
He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll listen.”
I put my hands on the keys now and begin to play a random song. What I play is a bit more cheerful.
“Is there anything special you’d like to do on your birthday, Madeline?” Roderick asked me while I was in the midst of playing.
I shrugged, entrenched in the music. “I don’t mind much what we do. There’s still a little over a month until then.”
“But it will be your sixteenth birthday.” The song came to an end and I looked up from the keys to see him staring at me. “You’re not really my little sister anymore.”
“No.” I smiled playfully. “I’m glad you’ve finally realized that. Maybe you’ll treat me better now.”
He laughed. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. Perhaps I shall start to make a list of my demands.” I was taking advantage of his good humor. “Like taking me out once in a while.”
“That can be arranged.” He looks down at the keys. “Play something else.”
I acquiesce. I feel Roderick watching me as I play. It wasn’t until the middle of the song when Roderick leaned over to me and said, “Come to my room later tonight.”
I missed one of the keys, but continued to play as if he’s words hadn’t startled me. I didn’t say a word, just nodded and smiled.
The song ends.
* * *
When I entered Roderick’s room later that night, he was dressed just in his trousers and shirt.
“Close the door,” he said, drinking from a glass that he had just picked up from the table by his bed.
“Did you want to discuss something?” I asked naively. I had an inkling that he didn’t want to discuss family business. Something about my approaching birthday had stirred something in him. It began to dawn on me that my birthday was what had caused the sad and loneliness of the music he had played earlier.
“Come here,” he said, putting the glass down.
I felt like a puppet. My actions weren’t my own as my legs moved forwards. I made my way to him. When I stopped, my eyes were level with his neck. I noticed that a few buttons from his shirt were undone.
Roderick eyed me curiously until he said, “Turn around.”
I did as he said. I felt him walk softly up behind me. He took my long hair and pushed it in front of me as he then started to undo the back of my dress.
I straightened up, holding my hair out of his way. No words could come to me. I felt too frightened to say no or even to slap his hands away.
Once he undid the last of the buttons he told me to raise my arms as he lifted the heavy dress up over my body. All that I had on now was my chemise and corset. Roderick spent several minutes fumbling at the lacing of the corset. I could feel his hands shaking. He finally removed the corset. All that remained now was my chemise, which I felt left me utterly naked. I had only ever been in my undergarments in front of my mother and maid. I could feel Roderick staring at my neck, his cool breath hitting the skin.
Roderick turned me back around and I instinctively covered my arms across my chest, wary that the candlelight could filter through the thin material. I couldn’t meet his eyes and continued to stare at his exposed neck. I wanted to reach over and button back his shirt. I don’t know why I was so focused on his shirt, when really, I should have been trying to distance myself from his advances.
He moved even closer and bent down to my ear, whispering in his deep, guttural voice, “Lay down.”
He couldn’t possibly be serious!
I finally looked up at his eyes. His blue eyes were too bright and I could see the flicker of madness behind them.
So now it begun. No one in this house could escape the curse.
“Roderick,” I managed to say, my voice coming out hoarse from fear.
“Do as I say.” I’d never heard his voice sound that threatening before. We still made eye contact and I knew I could not contradict him no matter what.
I walked towards the bed, my eyes forming tears. But I refused to cry. I could feel Roderick’s cold stare behind me as I positioned myself on the bed. I thought back to when we were children and how we’d play cards on his bed, laughing and ousting the other for cheating. How had it come to this?
Roderick crouched over on the bed now, staring at me, frowning. My conversation with Mr. Kennedy about Roderick hardly being around other women suddenly entered my mind. I realized that Roderick was acting a bit embarrassed, trying to judge what to do exactly. Not knowing what else to do, I shifted a bit to allow him more room and to help ease his embarrassment. Even now, despite what he was about to do, I was trying to help him.
His unbuttoned shirt continued to annoy me.
I think Roderick decided to do things quickly, for he suddenly pushed both my legs apart and positioned himself between me. I was about to cry out when he put a hand over my mouth to silence me.
“Don’t want the servants to hear, do you?” he asked with a cold smile.
I stupidly nodded in agreement. I couldn’t react. My only thought was to remain silent.
Roderick removed his hand and kissed my exposed lips.
His mouth burned against mine. I couldn’t inhale air fast enough. The first few seconds of the kiss were awkward on his part as he tried to figure out if it was too much or too little. He decided that it was too little. His mouth and body pressed hardly onto mine. I made little noises of protest, struggling to both push him away and breathe at the same time. One of his hands roamed down my neck, then down my breasts, then rested by my hip.
I didn’t want to do this! My brother had fallen into the family curse. I was sure of it! And here I was letting him sink further into that madness by succumbing.
Many things went through my head at that moment. What if I refused? What if I managed to shove him off my body and run from the room? I had no where else to go. No money, no friends and my only remaining relative, Uncle Henry, lived several states away. I had grown up ignorant and pampered. I had let my relationship with Roderick come this far and if I stopped it he’d abandon me out into poverty, starvation, and a ruined reputation.
Leaving my thoughts to the wind, I kissed Roderick harder and took hold of his shoulders, stifling my inner protests. I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, thinking that if I pressed tight enough, I’d hurt him and he’d stop.
But that seemed to only arouse him even more and I could feel his manhood harden between my legs. Roderick reached down to undo his trousers, while at the same time pushing my chemise up over my hips. I struggled against him, tugging at my chemise in the opposite direction. He grabbed both of my wrists and locked them down beside my head. I couldn’t move.
“Stay still,” he growled heavily.
One hard push in between my legs was all it took for me to scream and for Roderick to slap his hand back over my mouth to keep me silent until it was over.