"It was never about saying the words to her, it was about watching her react once I had said them." Dean Mackin
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XXXI.
Belle's shop was always a place to be seen in London as it was the most fashionable place to procure the latest couture. Cressie, thus, was not at all surprised that it was quite busy as she and Zara passed through the doors the following day at two o'clock in the afternoon.
That fact only made Cressie more frightened. She was already in pieces. Internally, of course. She had become an expect as masking her anguish outwardly. Inside these walls were so many eyes and so many opinions belonging to hideous gossips.
They had been inside for all of nine seconds and they had already been seen and spoken off by a half a dozen mothers and daughters.
'Look who it is. Zara Delaney.'
'I wonder what she is coming to collect. Is she to order a new gown already?'
'A wedding gown perhaps? Her trousseau?'
'Has she had a proposal already?'
Cressie heard the whispered questions, and she supposed she was thankful that all attention was focussed on Zara. She was also thankful that Zara seemingly enjoyed the attention.
"How silly they will all feel when they see we are only here to purchase ribbons," Zara mused to Cressie quietly.
Zara believed that she and Cressie were at Belle's to procure ribbons. By the way Cressie's heart was attacking the inside of her ribcage with how rapidly it was beating, one would have easily formed the opinion that ribbons were highly offensive and terrifying to Cressie. She could hardly concentrate on anything beyond her next few steps.
Cressie felt the need to look over her shoulder. She felt the need to look around the room and search the faces there. She felt the need to check her appearance and her dress for faults. She felt like she was being watched, as though someone knew what she was really there to do.
What was she there to do?
Jem had asked her to meet him. Cressie felt such conflicted anguish in her chest at what Jem wanted to know. He knew. Somehow, he knew. He could see it in her, see what others didn't, and he knew that something was wrong.
And Jem wanted to help her. He believed that he could help her. Cressie had looked into his divine, pure ocean eyes, and had seen the faith there. The faith that he held in his own ability to save her.
Jem did not understand that Cressie was beyond saving.
And yet she was here. Despite the fact Cressie had long abandoned all hope in ever escaping the prison in which she was held, and the husband she was shackled to, she was here.
What a foolish girl she was.
Belle descended upon Cressie and Zara almost immediately with a smile that anyone else would have interpreted as friendly as hospitable, but Cressie could see it was knowing. Of course, she knew.
"So lovely to see you both again so soon, Mrs Delaney, Miss Delaney," she greeted warmly in her accented English.
"And you as well, Miss Desjardins," replied Zara with enthusiasm. "I do have to tell you, I never received as many compliments in my life as I did when I wore your gown to the presentation ball. Thank you ever so much for your tireless work and your meticulous attention."
Belle's smile widened in its sincerity. "I am so pleased to hear it, though I must say that it is the lady who makes the gown, and not the other way around."
Zara was utterly delighted with such a compliment, and Belle expertly steered her into the arms of her seamstress employee, Marguerite. Cressie momentarily pretended to occupy herself with some of the open catalogues on the large tables, showcasing the possible ensembles that could be ordered. Just as she was about to make an interested, 'oh, how pretty' comment, Belle returned to her side.
"Mrs Delaney, I have some more ribbons upstairs which you might be interested in perusing." Belle's golden eyes were once again knowing. Too knowing. All knowing.
Was Cressie entirely mad with paranoia and panic or did Belle Desjardins – Denham! – know everything? It was like this woman was a seer or a mystic or a witch, someone who could read minds, invade minds, and know all their deepest secrets.
But then Belle delicately placed her hand on the small of Cressie's back in a guiding manner, just as she had done a moment ago with Zara, before she whispered, "You are safe here, Cressie." Her voice was so soft, so quiet, that not even Cressie thought that she had heard Belle correctly. But the look on Belle's face confirmed the words were hers.
"You can't know that," Cressie whispered back, the words leaving her mouth involuntarily.
Belle guided Cressie gently through the shop, weaving through the parties of ladies in an inconspicuous way, before they came to a door that blended into a back wall. Belle opened it and closed it, bringing them into a very small room that served only as a stairwell to the rooms above.
"But I do," Belle replied, her voice a little stronger now, and yet still filled with compassion. "These walls are a safe harbour as I have meant them to be for every person who comes to me for care." Taking a breath, she said, "I know your pain. It took a hurricane for me to escape, but I escaped. So will you."
Cressie didn't know what to say. She did not know at all if she would be able to speak without crying. And Belle seemed to know this to.
"Go upstairs and fight."
"I'm not strong enough." The words sounded as though they came from someone completely foreign to Cressie as the thickness of her voice sounded entirely unlike her.
"You have survived!" Belle declared. "Dying is simple. Do you know how much strength it takes to live? Every day that you awaken and choose to live you are showing your strength. You are choosing to not let your demons defeat you. You have survived this long, and your hurricane is coming."
Cressie felt the wetness of her tears spill over her eyelids as she whimpered, "He has taken everything from me."
"Take it back," Belle said emphatically.
Cressie trembled as she closed her eyes, blinking more tears, before she took a deep breath. And then she walked up the stairs. And in mere moments, Cressie found herself standing in a small room with tidy, yet tired, furnishings that were situated towards a dormant hearth.
The kitchen consisted of a stove and a small wooden table with four chairs. Where there might have been baking utensils of food meant for supper on an ordinary dining table, this one was laden with sewing baskets, darning, knitting, and embroidery. Not even the chairs were free from the evidence that the mistresses of this home were seamstresses.
Two little sofas, repaired with mismatching patches, were crammed into the tight room before the hearth, with one of them being occupied by a very tall, nicely dressed young man. He was quick to his feet, however, and showcased his full height.
"You came," Jem breathed, relief flooding his face as he approached her, though his steps were cautious as he clearly saw the state that was Cressie in that moment.
Cressie was still trembling, frozen to the spot, while staring at Jem. Belle's words rang in her mind. Take it back. Take it back.
How she wished she could! But Cressie didn't know how. She felt helpless as she stood there shaking, and the words, "I'm scared, Jem," tumbled out of her mouth.
Jem threw caution to the wind as closed the distance between them, enveloping Cressie in his arms and crushing her to his chest in mere seconds. Cressie melted into him entirely, her legs losing all integrity as they collapsed beneath her. Jem easily bore her weight.
It took a moment for the shock of the action to pass before Cressie realised what position they were in, and it took another moment for her to reciprocate. Her arms regained some of their authority, and they slowly encircled him as well, and for the first time in five years, Cressie felt as though she was holding something real, and something precious.
His strong hold on her was so steady and constant, that Cressie knew shew would not fall. Jem would never let her fall, and that faith should have alarmed her, but it didn't.
And with that faith, Cressie began speaking. Her speeches and stories were a ramble, incoherent and undoubtedly confusion as she told Jem events that had happened as they popped into her head.
And once she had stared, Cressie found it difficult to stop. She told Jem everything. She told him how Everett's desire for her had turned into an obsession, and how he controlled every part of her life.
She relayed Everett's incessant need to belittle her and humiliate her with his venomous words. Everett controlled what she wore, what she said, and what she ate. If he could not personally watch her, one of his servants, namely her maid, would, and her every move was reported back.
If he did not read every one of her letters himself, he ensured that they were read before they were posted, and if she dared write something untoward, she would have suffered for it. Every letter she received had the same treatment, and she had not heard a proper word from her mother in years.
Cressie was never allowed any money of her own. She was solely dependent on Everett, and that was another way that he lauded control over her.
Cressie had also failed to produce a son and heir, or any child for that matter. She had never been pregnant, and Everett had declared her barren, which was another monumental failure on her as a woman. Cressie found admitting this last story to Jem particularly confronting and shameful.
She shivered and whimpered when she finally realised that she had nothing left to say. She had said everything. She had confessed everything. Jem had heard it all, every sordid detail of the last five years of Cressie's life.
Jem's grip never loosened, though he did gently move her back towards the sofa that he had been sitting on. He had been holding her for that long. He delicately helped Cressie down onto one of the sofa cushions and then took his place beside her, their thighs touching, as he then returned his arm to its rightful place around her.
"I feel watched," Cressie whispered. "I feel so frightened that he will know I told someone. I feel like I am standing on a precipice."
"You are not being watched," Jem promised her. "We are alone, and you needed to tell someone, and I feel a considerable amount of privilege to be the one whom you trusted with the truth." Cressie felt Jem's fingers gently travel up and down her arm in a soothing motion. "I won't let him hurt you again. I won't let him control you or keep you. You never have to feel unsafe again, I promise you."
"Please don't make promises you can't keep," Cressie implored weakly. "When the Season is over, I have to go back." The very idea of travelling back to Yorkshire, to that house, turned her stomach over.
"No, you don't." Jem shook his head emphatically. "Cressie, I ... I have never stopped loving you. Not for a minute in these five years. And if you think I am going to let him take you back to a place where you are unsafe, then you, my dear one, are not very bright."
Cressie froze upon hearing Jem's declaration. She had heard it. He had said it. And it made the tears come all the more violently. Cressie buried her face in her hands as Jem cuddled her closely. He hushed her soothingly.
Cressie had not allowed herself to experience the depths of her feelings for the pain that it brought. If anything, what she felt most keenly was the pain and regret from the morning she had left Jem sleeping in bed. But she had not allowed herself to feel the love that she had once had for Jem. Cressie had buried that safely away and had stowed the key in another hiding place for additional security measures.
Love did not fill her. That love was still safely stowed.
And yet, Cressie still managed to stammer, "You won't love me anymore when you realise how broken I am."
"I will love you all the more," Jem replied simply and as quickly as a heartbeat.
For the first time since Cressie had begun talking, she looked at Jem. Her brown eyes found his oceans watching her with constancy.
"You do a good job of hiding for anyone but me," he continued gently. "I can see you in there." He lifted his other hand to softly brush his knuckles across her cheekbone.
But before another word could be spoken, Jem and Cressie heard the sounds of footsteps marching up the stairs with considerable purpose. They both were too shocked to alter their compromising position at all as the door to the flat burst open and Zara entered the room, closely followed by Belle, who appeared incredibly flustered.
Zara's blue eyes settled on Cressie immediately, and they widened with shock and disbelief as she looked between her aunt and the young man whom she'd briefly expressed interest in.
"I ..." Zara stammered, "...I wanted to know where you were. What ... what on earth is going on?"
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Hope you enjoyed it!!
Back at work this week. One week down, 11 to go until Christmas holidays! But between now and then, I have to write reports ... and say goodbye to my babies. I always so look forward to the long break at the end of the year, but saying goodbye to my babies never gets any easier.
We joke as a class as my kids are very concerned that I don't have children as I am ancient and must simply have children before I'm too old, and I assure them that I have 20 children who keep me very busy. They love it hahaha
I'll be enjoying the time I have left, even when they do my head in.
I hope you've all had wonderful weeks!
Vote and comment xxx