“Why didn’t you stay to explain?” Hercules, the strong man, inquired curiously. “A man who loves you would believe you.”
“You don’t understand.” She shook her head helplessly. “Loveless is a ruthless man. I don’t know the depths of his depravity, and I’m scared to find out. I couldn’t risk him doing anything to harm the girls.”
Her friends knew that she spoke the truth. The man they were all working for was indeed a man without a conscience, and such people were most frightening of all, because one could never know what he would do next.
Now, that harm that could befall the girls had become even more tangible under the circumstances. These two men had killed their parents. They could so easily snatch them from their home, and the girls would be gone, never to be seen again. Rosalie dreaded to even think of something so utterly terrifying.
“So, what will you do now?” the bearded lady wondered, as she brought Rosalie a steaming cup of warm tea and placed it on a small stool that served in place of a real table.
“I… I don’t know,” Rosalie shook her head, feeling utterly confused.
“You must go see that man and explain yourself,” Hercules urged her. “You must.”
“I doubt he would want to listen to me,” Rosalie’s voice trembled at the thought of having to explain her life story to Edmund. But she knew he needed to know the truth, about everything.
“You must try,” Armless Annie interfered, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the candle. “At least, you have a chance at a better life, a normal life. We…” she spoke as she lifted the stumps of her arms into the air, “don’t.”
The sight of those stumps once again brought back the image of Edmund. Of all the people in the whole world, she expected him to understand her plight. But would he?
Still, she kept thinking about the girls. Would they ever be safe, now that Goosevelt and Loveless revealed that they had killed their parents? She had to do something about it. She had to at least try.
“Loveless would not let me out of his sight for a single moment,” she shook her head.
“He’s not here now is he?” the bearded lady winked at her, then glanced over at the door.
Adrenaline started surging through Rosalie’s veins, awakening her to the fact that she was still alive. Captured, but alive. Her heart was still beating as wildly as before. Her body was still as willing to move and fight as it was before. She had only forgotten that fact for a moment, overcome by despair.
As the girls’ governess, she had been chosen to take care of the girls. She couldn’t let them down just because she was afraid. She had to regain her senses. She had to do something, to make sure that no harm would befall the girls. She had never been more certain of anything else in her entire life.
“We’ll keep him occupied,” Hercules urged. “Besides, he’s probably too busy preparing for tonight’s show. You go on, now. Run, and don’t look back.”
Rosalie’s breathing intensified, as she got up, and started walking to the door. As her hand pressed on the brass doorknob which felt freezing cold, she turned around one last time. She wanted to tell them something, anything, but she felt like something had gotten stuck in her throat. They were all standing, watching her go.
Immediately upon exiting the wagon, Rosalie could feel the soft chill in the air. It made her skin break out into goosebumps. But the cold kept her mind alert. It urged her senses to stay on guard.
She took one single step, and a branch crackled somewhere behind her.
“Leavin’ so soon, are ye?”
The sound of that dreadful voice almost broke her. How could she even try to delude herself with the fact that he might leave her unattended?
Loveless emerged from the darkness, but his face was now visible in the glimmering moonlight. She could almost trace the clear lines of his crooked back, of his hunched form. She never thought he was so despicable merely due to his bodily shape. No. It was because of the tar that he carried within his soul.
He approached her quickly, like a lion approached a wounded gazelle, knowing that his prey wouldn’t escape, but eager to feed. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her upper arm, then started dragging her to his wagon.
“Ye ingrateful bitch!” he shouted. “We got ye outta that poor country house, and brought ye to the city, and this be how ye repay me!?”
“No, let me go!” Rosalie suddenly found that slumbering strength within her once again.
She tried to push him away, to free herself of him, but his grasp was too firm.
“I will never let go, ye hear!?” He shook her as he spoke. “Yer gonna be my wife, ‘n ye’ll be workin’ fer me fer the rest of yer life!!”
“No!” That was all Rosalie could hear herself say.
“Now, I’ll be takin’ what’s rightfully mine!”
His final threat brought out the worst fear inside of her. She remembered the last time he brought her to his wagon. The way he caressed her cheek. The way he tried to lift the hem of her skirt. It was then that she had pushed him and managed to escape the wagon. But she knew he would do it again.
