Gossamer in the Darkness (Fantasyland)

He let my chin go in order to wrap his meaty fingers around the lower part of my face, the pads digging into my wounded cheek, spiking pain into my eye.

And then he got in my face.

“You will behave like the lady you are. You will represent the House of Derryman with chastity and decorum. You will not cause scandal to my House. And you will treat your father with respect.”

His fingers bit in deeper and his despicable face got closer.

“Remember, I can reward your mother, Maxine, or I can punish her. It’s your choice. Choose wisely,” he spat, literally, his words landing dots of spittle on my face.

He let me go so roughly, I flew back into the vanity, the edge of it digging into my spine, and I heard at least one lovely bottle crash to the floor.

“I’ll have a tray sent up, a spare one. You carry too much weight. A man wishes to bed a graceful doe, not a charging heifer. And I will tell the duke and his son that you, sadly, will not be able to grace their table tonight, you’ve caught a chill.”

You’ve caught a chill.

I felt his presence move away.

You’ve caught a chill.

Emeralds scattered over a coffee table.

Don’t worry about me, baby, Mom, eyes wild, pretending to have it together, whispered through the bars at me, Keep yourself safe.

“She’s had a tumble, bring her a cold compress, or a piece of meat,” Edgar ordered someone.

“Of course, milord,” Idina breathed apprehensively.

I will settle a curse on you and your mother, a bitter curse so powerful, you’ll rue the day the words left your lips.

I reached out, curling my gloved fingers around the edge of the vanity, feeling the soft satin encasing my skin, as well as the harsh burn enflaming my cheekbone.

Woodenly, I turned to face myself in the mirror and reached for the top of a pile of crisp, ironed linens that sat in a sterling silver bed, what passed for tissues in this world.

I dabbed at small spots of spittle on my face.

My father was a liar and a cheat, but he’d not once hit me.

Mom either.

I’d never been struck in my entire life.

I set the linen down and reached for the powder puff, carefully righting Idina’s artistry.

Do not fear, Countess, I’m changing my mind about the manner in which I’ll allow you to address me.

I had to have sex with him.

I sensed I would enjoy this.

I also sensed, once I was gone, he’d know me as nothing but a woman who used him, then threw him away.

I had nothing. No money. I didn’t even know where the hell I was. I didn’t know how to drive a carriage. I’d been on a horse exactly once in my entire life, on a docile trail ride in a state park on a date with a boyfriend. I didn’t even know the name of the city we left three days ago, much less how to find my way back there.

My mother was eating gruel.

“Countess, come to bed, let’s get this on that cheek,” Idina urged from my side.

I turned my head and stared at the large slab of red beef held on a coarse piece of paper in her hand.

It felt like I’d sat there mere moments, but while I did she’d been down to the kitchen and back up.

“I don’t want meat on my face,” I said tremulously.

“I’ll get a compress then,” she said hurriedly.

Caught a chill.

If Edgar said that to Loren and Ansley, they…would…freak.

I stood.

Idina reared back and gazed up at me.

“Are they still in the drawing room?” I asked.

“Madam, your face, the color is changing, it’s swell—”

I wrapped my fingers around her upper arm. “Idina, honey, are they still having drinks in the drawing room?”

She nodded uncertainly. “I think so.”

I turned.

The silk and beads and crystals turned with me and the train behind me designed to follow my lead elegantly did so.

I lifted my head, took a deep breath…

And walked from the room.

Chapter Six

Mistake

Maxine

As I hadn’t had a tour of the house, I got lost trying to find the drawing room.

But considering there were a bevy of servants around, I startled one by coming on him as he was rushing to do something. He stared in shock at my cheek (which should have shared how bad it was, but I was so out of it, I didn’t take this in) as I asked him to point me to the drawing room. He did as I asked.

It’d take me a minute to realize, in my daze, I was making a huge mistake.

In my defense, I had, as yet, not given myself time to process all that had happened to me, to Mom, seeing a me who was not me, but was ill, having a father who proved what I’d known all my life, but had struggled against, he was inherently vile, learning I had another father who was worse.