An Innocent Affair

XXXVIII

"Mothers and their children are in a category all their own. There's no bond so strong in the entire world. No love so instantaneous and forgiving." Gail Tsukiyama, Dreaming Water

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XXXVIII.

The quiet little tap of a knock sounded on Cressie's door at exactly ten o'clock in the morning. Everett had already been and gone with her breakfast and his daily deluge of verbal whips to her back. He was still the only person permitted inside of Cressie's bedroom until she was suitably broken.

Cressie did not care if she would need to bathe with a pitcher and basin for the next month. She flatly refused to cower before that man for a second, and he seemed to enjoy every minute of her fight.

Because he was right. Everett had successfully broken her once before. He had not struck her again since the night of the ball. Physical violence was not usually Everett's control tactic of choice. He was a gentleman. He dressed people down with his airs and words. And once upon a time, it had worked on Cressie.

He could call her whatever he wanted to. It would not change the fact that she would one day escape from him while resisting the urge to kill him in his sleep.

But it had been three weeks of this, and neither one of them had relented. With every day that passed, Cressie only became more determined in her resolve. She had tasted life again. In being in London, in reuniting with Jem, Cressie had come to know what it was to feel alive again, and she was never going to return to the ghost of an existence that she had been living in for the past five years.

Cressie's only connection to the outside, besides her husband's visits, was from the daily little knock on the door that came after Everett had left to shut himself away to work for the day.

Cressie was ready and waiting at the door, crouching down at the lock. "Zara!" she whispered.

"Cressie," came Zara's voice through the lock. "Are you alright today?"

"Yes," she confirmed. Zara has not seen Cressie, as the door remained closed, but the bruise on her head was nearly entirely gone, and the swelling had reduced considerable. Were her hair styled in a particular way, one would never have known. "I haven't given up."

"Good," breathed Zara. "Here. I brought you something."

Zara pushed a sheet of paper underneath the door, which was followed by a pen. It was an expensive looking pen, and Cressie could have wagered safely as to where Zara had procured it from.

"An inkwell would not have fit underneath the door," Zara explained, seeming to pick Cressie's thoughts. I visited Uncle Everett in his study this morning and I pocketed this. It has some ink, though I am not certain how much. I would choose your words carefully just in case it runs out and needs filling."

Cressie snatched up the paper and held the weighty pen in her hands. It was a heavy black and gold pen, and Cressie wondered if the weightiness of the pen could be attributed to perhaps the real gold accents.

"This is for you as well," she added, pushing another object underneath the door.

It was a letter, folded, and it was addressed to, "Messy Cressie".

Cressie immediately smiled, before noting that it felt so nice to smile. She collected the letter immediately and held it tightly. "Zara, you don't know what it means to me that you have been putting yourself in such positions. I am the one who was meant to protect you this Season. How can I ever thank you?"

"Perhaps I am not meant to be a deb," Zara mused humorously. "Perhaps I am meant for the stage." They both knew that Zara would never be allowed to enter into such a career as acting, despite her obvious talent for deception. "I'm a romantic, Cressie. You know this. All I wanted was to find my sweetheart, and it just so happened that you were meant to secure your sweetheart first. I will collect your response tomorrow. I had better make myself scarce just in case one of the servants happens upon us."