He staggered out of the room and up the stairs. He had no idea where he was going, and it was only when he reached Bronwyn’s room that he paused. A vision of her black hair and blue eyes floated before him. He remembered every curve of her lush body. He put his hand on the door bolt before he remembered the way her cleft chin jutted up at him in defiance. He moved away from the door. No, he wasn’t drunk enough to be able to withstand her ridicule of him. It wasn’t possible to get that drunk!
He went up another flight of stairs to the top floor of his house. His problems were caused by that slut who dressed as a nun and enticed his little brother. Her evil ways were causing the break-up of his family. Brian said that tomorrow he was leaving the Chatworth estate. He was going to marry a Montgomery and leave Roger. As if the Montgomerys didn’t have enough family already, they were going to take Roger’s!
Roger lifted the bolt from the door of Mary’s room. The moonlight was streaming through the window, and a night candle burned by the bed.
“Who is it?” Mary whispered, sitting up in bed. There was fear in her voice.
Roger tripped over a chair, then sent it crashing against a wall.
“Who is it?” Mary said louder, her voice beginning to shake.
“A Chatworth,” Roger growled. “One of your jailors.” He towered over the bed, looking down at her. Her long brown hair was twisted into a braid. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“Lord Roger, I…”
“You what?” he demanded. “Aren’t you going to welcome me to your bed? Isn’t one Chatworth as good as another? I can release you as well as Brian. Come, let’s see what you have that has enticed my brother so much.”
Roger grabbed the cover Mary held clutched to her neck and tore it from her. He stared in a glazed way at the prim cotton gown she wore. Most women wore nothing to bed, yet this woman, a harlot supreme, wore a gown. For some reason this only angered Roger more. He grabbed the collar of the gown and tore it off of her. He didn’t notice her body or listen to her when her terrified screams began. All he could hear was Brian saying he was leaving his home for this woman. He’d show Brian what a whore the woman was and that she wasn’t worth his dear little brother’s affection.
He fell on Mary’s plump, innocent body in a mindless state. He removed only enough of his clothes to perform the deed. Her legs were held rigidly together and he had to pry them open. Her screams had subsided into a whimper of terror. Her body was as rigid as a piece of steel.
It was no pleasure to rape her. She was dry and tense, and Roger had to pound against her to gain admittance. It was over in seconds. The drink and the emotion he’d spent worked together to exhaust him. He rolled off of her and collapsed on the bed beside her. Now Brian wouldn’t leave him, he thought as he closed his eyes. Next Christmas, Brian, Elizabeth, and he would be together, just as they always had.
Mary lay quite still as Roger rolled away from her. Her body felt violated, unclean. Her first thought was of her brothers. How could she face them again when she was what Roger had called her over and over, a whore? Brian could never again sit with her, talk to her.
Very calmly, she rose from the bed. She ignored the pain in her body and the blood on her thighs. With great care she pulled her only gown over her head. It was a simple thing of dark blue wool, a gown the sisters had made for her. She looked about the room for one last time, then walked to the window.
The cold night air blew into her face, and she breathed deeply of it. She lifted her eyes toward Heaven. She knew the Lord could not forgive her for what she did, but then neither could she forgive herself for what had happened. “Good-bye, my brothers,” she whispered to the wind. “Good-bye, my Brian.”
She crossed herself, put her hands across her breasts, and jumped to the stones below.
•••
The animals of the Chatworth estate sensed something wrong before the people did. The dogs began to bark; the horses became restless in their stalls.
Brian, upset and unable to sleep, threw on a robe and made his way outside. “What is it?” he asked a stableboy who was running past him.
“A woman threw herself from a top-floor window,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ve got to find Lord Roger.”
Brian’s heart stopped at the boy’s words. It had to be one of the women who was held captive. Please let it be the woman he didn’t know, Bronwyn, he prayed. But even as he thought the words, he knew who lay dead.
He walked calmly toward the side of the house that contained the window to Mary’s room. He pushed through the crowd of servants peering down at the body.
“She’s been raped,” a woman said quietly. “Look at the blood on her!”
“It’s just like when Lord Edmund was alive. And here I thought the younger one was going to be better.”
“Get out of here!” Brian shouted. It made him sick that they felt free to look at his beloved Mary. “Did you hear me? Get out of here!”
The servants weren’t used to taking orders from Brian, but they recognized the tone of authority when they heard it. They turned quickly and left to hide in the dark corners and stare at Brian and this woman they’d never seen before.
Brian gently smoothed Mary’s clothes. He straightened her neck from its unnatural angle. He wanted to carry her into the house and even made a few attempts, but he wasn’t strong enough. Even his weakness seemed to feed the anger rising in him. The servants assumed Roger had raped her, but Brian didn’t believe them. One of the guards! he thought.
As he stood he began to imagine tortures for the man, as if it would help bring his Mary back.
As if in a trance, he walked up the stairs to Mary’s room. The guards started to hinder him, but they stepped back when they saw Brian’s face. He pushed open the door to Mary’s room.
He stared for some moments at Roger’s form, dead asleep, snoring, as he lay in Mary’s bed. He didn’t seem to have any thoughts, only a feeling that ran through him. He seemed to grow and strengthen with each passing moment.
