Lady Amelia Montgomery was under no illusions that she was the most loving mother in England. She was strict, demanding, and most would even say cold, but that did not make the fact that she loved her children with every breath in her body less true. The part of her that was able to show love had been broken by the death of her parents, fractured further still by her husband's vices and then killed altogether with the death of her firstborn.
Yes, she loved all her children so very deeply but a mother always had a special place in her heart for a daughter. And because she had never been the sort to show just how much she loved her daughter, she had done the next best thing.
Instead of playing games and sharing jokes with her children, she had done what she could to make sure that they would grow to be responsible adults that could deal with the realities of the world they occupied. She had thought she had raised an intelligent daughter who knew that the men of their sphere were feckless animals incapable of loyalty and that she needed to only bide her time until she was free. After a child or two, she need not even stay in the same estate as her husband.
She had protected her daughter the best way she knew how. She had encouraged her to accept the suit of an influential and wealthy man, to ensure that she would always command the respect and adoration of their society. She would have the wealth and security Amelia lacked as a young woman, newly wedded to a man who loved the opium-wrought oblivion more than he loved breathing. She would have a plethora of friends, invitations to whichever event she wished to attend. Ophelia would have wanted for nothing. Amelia had even been involved in the formation of the Marriage Contract, ensuring her daughter got a monthly stipend from her husband and that all his unentailed properties would be deeded to her upon his death.
And that foolish girl was going to throw it all away for a servant?
And Amelia waited to rage and frustration to somehow quell the tears that were trying to escape her eyes, but all that she could see was how Charles' casket had been lowered into the ground, her firstborn gone from the world. Except now, she could not help but wonder how on earth she would ever survive doing this a second time.
Benedict. Poor, darling, responsible boy that he was, he would break in ways she was not sure he could recover from. He would find a way to place blame on his shoulders, when the blame lay with his wife.
She would never forgive that woman if something happened to her daughter. She would not bloody rest until Benedict had sent that woman back to the Colonies where she would not plague them with her flagrant lack of self-control ever again. If so much as a hair on her daughter's head was hurt, she would make sure that Minerva's life in England was finished.
As Needham railed at her staff to ready the carriage, Amelia clenched her jaw in irritation. The man was being unseemly.
'Needham, keep your voice down or do you intend to alert the entire neighborhood?'
'Don't fucking tell me what to do you decrepit old bitch.' Needham reared on her with such menace that she was taken aback. His face was flushed red with both his excess in drink and his temper; he was taking heaving breaths looking more akin to a raging bull than a human being. Much less a gentleman.
'Mind your insolent tongue, boy!' Her own temper rose to the occasion and she was almost frightened by how quickly he changed his tune. He straightened up and his mouth spread into a wide, predatory grin. Discomfiture settled into her very bones as he took an almost mockingly elegant, sweeping bow.
'Curse my wayward tongue. I apologize heartily to you, Your Grace. I am merely worried for my wife and I momentarily took leave of my sense.' He tipped his head in apparent shame and offered her his hand as the carriage pulled up in front of them. 'Shall we?'
When she entered his house, it became immediately obvious to Her Grace that things were not all they seemed. Whether it were the shattered vases littered across the hallway, the butler that had a bruise on his cheek or the way a maid had shrieked at the sight of him and ran out of sight.
'Get me her lady's maid. Now!' Needham bellowed in the foyer at no one in particular, but he was a man used to being obeyed and his household knew it well for immediately two footmen set off in search of the maid. With increasing dread, Amelia followed her son-in-law to his office where she watched him pour out two more glasses of whatever spirit he kept near his desk. He opened a drawer and took something out of it that he stuffed into his coat before Amelia could see. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
'I do not think you ought to be overindulging at this moment, Needham.'
'Madam, I do not advise thinking you can tell me what to do at this juncture. Your whore daughter is besmirching my name, carrying a bastard. Perhaps you ought to have saved the lectures for her.'
Amelia felt her face heat in shame. Of course, he was entitled to rage after what Ophelia had done. Who was she to chastise him when her daughter had displayed such a flagrant lack of propriety?
She had raised Ophelia better than this. She had raised her to be careful and intelligent. She had taught her how to play the game so that she would always emerge the victor and then had set up the board to ensure that she won.
Why would she throw it all away?
Unless she was truly desperate.
Amelia's heart began to beat a frantic, anxious rhythm.She had had no reason to doubt Needham, her distaste for her daughter-in-law just certified and validated by his claims.
But..... now that she thought about it, after the initial haze of horror and shock had worn over, it seemed so unlike her daughter to do something like this.
That would mean that she must have felt as though she was without choices.
She tried to tell me. The realization knocked the wind from Amelia's lungs, her mind replaying the conversation where Ophelia had expressed her dissatisfaction with Needham, complaining about his temper. And I told her that she need only bear with it until she gave birth.
God. Dear God, my poor daughter. Let her be alright. Please, God.
How could this be? Needham was an upstanding member of their society. Charming and affable, always lively. That is why they had been so very satisfied when Ophelia had made a match with him.
But this snarling beast in front of her belied that image.
The door to the study opened as a footman ushered a weeping woman inside and promptly tossed her onto the floor. The woman scrambled farther away but Needham grabbed her in a bruising grip and right in front of everyone, backhanded her so hard that her head snapped to one side.
'Needham!' Amelia exclaimed in both horror and warning but he paid her no heed.
'Where is my wife?!' He shook the crying servant almost violently.
'I don't know. Please. I don't know.' The woman wept, searching around the room for one person to help her, but the footman had slipped out and she was left alone with a madman and Amelia whose body had frozen with shock. Needham raised his hand and slapped the girl again.
'Don't make me ask again, you insect.'
'Needham enough!' Amelia was almost dizzy from the horror. Who was this man? Where was the always smiling man whom she had given her daughter to?
Is this how he had treated her daughter?! Is this what Ophelia was escaping from?
'Sir, I don't know. Please. I beg you, let me go. I don't know anything.'Needham pushed her violently to the floor, the girl letting out a pathetic cry as her body collided with the ground.
'No?' He said so softly that Amelia had to strain her ears to catch it. Even so, there was no mistaking the malice behind those words. He stood up and walked a few paces away, the woman still lying prone on the ground, perhaps without the guts to try and get up again lest her employer return to his beating. There was a menacing click that drew Amelia's eyes back to Needham, only to see him holding a pistol with its barrel trained at the servant, who had taken from weeping to all-out wailing. 'Perhaps now you might have some answers?'
'No!' Amelia cried out as her useless body finally moved to stand between the gun and the girl. The woman behind her was pleasing for her life. 'Have you entirely taken leave of your senses, you brute?!'
'Why is it that your entire family feels the need to interfere in my affairs? You would put your life in danger for a mere servant?' Needham had a wild look in his eyes, his mouth graced with a smile so empty that it sent chills down Amelia's spine.
'I am thankful, Needham, that you have shown me your hideous face before I made the mistake of trusting you further. You will never see my daughter again, so help me God. My son is on his way and I will be surprised if he does not ruin you. Rothbury will end you and I shall enjoy each second of it.' She turned to the servant and ushered her to leave with courage she did not actually feel. The grateful woman could not scamper out of the room fast enough.
Needham simply widened his mocking smile and raised the gun to aim at Amelia's chest and she felt her heart drop to her stomach. But her posture remained perfect and her back remained straight, she glowered down at him as if she was not afraid and dared him to say a single word more.
The door burst open with such violent force that both of them jumped; Benedict strode into the room with as much subtlety as a tempest. Needham pocketed his pistol so fast that Amelia did not even have time to warn her son that Needham was armed.
'How dare you put your hands on my sister?! WHERE DID YOU GET THE DAMNED AUDACITY?!' Benedict's fist collided solidly with Needham's nose, a satisfying crunch ringing out as Needham's head snapped back from the blow. Benedict struck him again and again until his nose was bleeding and he was pushed up against the large desk in the room. 'I am going to ruin you. I am going to damn well beggar you. I will make sure you are turned from all your clubs, no damn bank will ever give you a loan. Every investment you try to make, I will ensure it fails. You will not be able to live in London another day in your life!'
'It is a man's God-given right to discipline his wife as he seems damn fit!' Needham took the short pause to gather his wits, his fist connecting with Ben's throat. Ben staggered back, clutching at where he was hit and choking. In the next second Needham had his pistol aimed at Ben's head. 'You would threaten me for being angry with your whore sister? Who is carrying another man's bastard? You will ruin me?! You will beggar me for that ungrateful bitch? I don't think so! I will have my vengeance for the way you all have banded together to make a mockery of me!'
He cocked the pistol with trembling hands, his overindulgence making him sloppy. Benedict saw his opportunity and lunged as Amelia screamed. The two men toppled over, fighting for the gun. Ben grabbed Needham's arm and slammed it against the ground, once, twice and then on the third Needham finally let go of the pistol but as Ben made to reach for it, Needham used his considerable heft to roll himself in the superior position, pining Benedict beneath him.
Needham's hands wrapped themselves around Ben's neck and Amelia could only watch in frozen horror as Ben's face began to turn red....and then a horrid, terrifying purple. Benedict struggled against Needham's thick, beady fingers to no avail, slapping and hitting and flailing but Needham could have been a mountain for all he moved.
Move.
Her limbs remained frozen.
Ben's flailing lost its intensity.
Move.
Ben's eyes rolled back into his head.
Move damn you!
Amelia blinked once and she was still standing frozen. She blinked again and she had somehow grabbed the gun off of the ground. The next blink had her training the gun at the two men with trembling hands. She did not dare give herself time to hesitate lest doubt cloud her judgment. She would rather die than lose another child. Her shaking finger found the trigger and pulled, the gun jumping in her hands in recoil. The sound of the shot blasted through the room as her head grew dizzy.
She watched as Needham's grip went slack, the color return to her son's face. Ben took in large, gasping breaths as Needham's body slid off of him, his blood staining the ground, pouring in obscene amounts onto the Persian rug beneath them.
Dead.
She had killed him. She had killed a man.
Not just any man. An Earl. A peer of the realm. A man of significant wealth and influence.
Lady Amelia Montgomery was now a murderer.
She would likely hang for this.
And yet, she would do it a thousand times over if it meant that her children were protected. She would walk up to the noose with her regal posture and she would let them relay their justice and she would die in peace knowing that she had saved her son.
All she wanted now was to know that her daughter was safe and she would walk up the steps to the hangman's block completely at ease with her decisions.