Father stood over the three of them, eyeing Beau’s limp body as if he didn’t care whether he’d killed him. “Serves the blighter right,” Father mumbled, before tossing the bloody candlestick onto the carpet and stumbling from the room. “He shouldn’t have got in my way. Mind your own business, you brat,” Father mumbled as he went.
Annabelle expelled her pent-up breath. Father was done…at least for the night. They all knew it. Once he’d seriously injured Mama or Beau, he always slunk away. It was a horrible way to guarantee his disappearance, but Beau had taken the hit on purpose for exactly that reason.
Silent tears slipped down Annabelle’s cheeks as she waited, praying even harder now, that her brother would wake up.
“Annabelle, darling,” Mama whispered, her own face wet from tears. “Go ask Mary for a hot cloth. Run.”
Annabelle nodded obediently. Mama didn’t want her to be here. Mama didn’t want her to have seen any of this or even know about it. But Annabelle wasn’t a baby any longer. She heard the screams in the night, and she had no intention of hiding in her bed while her mother and brother needed her. Only she hadn’t yet worked up the courage to step in and incur Father’s wrath herself. But she would. One day. She would. She promised herself. If she wasn’t such a coward, she would have done it tonight.
Letting Mama slip into place to cradle Beau’s head, Annabelle lifted the blood-stained skirt of her night rail and ran as fast as she could out of the room and down the dark corridor to the far end of the hall.Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. She opened the door to the servants’ staircase and scrambled up the lightless staircase as fast as she could to Mary’s bedchamber. Mary was her governess and the only servant Mama allowed to help them on nights like this. The bedchamber was the first one on the right on the fourth floor, and Annabelle slipped into the room without knocking, silently making her way through the terrifying darkness to the governess’s side. She gently shook her.
“Mary, wake up,” she said in a desperate whisper.
Mary’s warm brown eyes flew open. “Oh, Annabelle, dear. It’s you.” Worry creased the servant’s brow. Mary already knew why she’d come.
“Mama needs a hot cloth for Beau,” Annabelle breathed.
Mary had already tossed back the covers and stood. She lit a candle and pulled on her dressing gown. “I’ll go down to the kitchens and fetch it,” she said in a calm, soothing voice. “I’ll meet you in your mother’s bedchamber.”
Annabelle nodded. They’d had this conversation many times before. She didn’t have to explain. Annabelle turned and rushed back out the door and down the staircase.
By the time Annabelle arrived at Beau’s side again, her brother’s ice-blue eyes were open, and his jaw was a hideous shade of purple, blue, and black. Mama had wiped up the blood as best she could with her own night rail. She cradled Beau’s head in her lap, gently talking to him, and stroking his hair.
“Beau,” Annabelle breathed, searching her brother’s injured face. “Are you all right?” She laid a hand on her brother’s cheek.
Beau nodded and winced, before lifting his gaze toward his mother. “Mama, are you all right? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Tears fell from Mama’s eyes. “Shh, my darling. I’m fine,” Mama said to Beau. “You mustn’t move.”
“I’m almost big enough,” Beau replied, his jaw clenched. “I’ll be big enough soon to fight him.”
“Shh, Beau. Just rest,” Mama said, still stroking his hair.
A few minutes later, Mary came hurrying into the room with some cloths and a small basin of hot water. Without saying a word, she knelt next to Beau, dipped one of the cloths in the water, wrung it out, and applied it to his cheek. Mama and Mary exchanged a fraught glance before Mama’s eyes filled with tears again and she nodded to Mary. Mama took over pressing the hot rag to Beau’s cheek while Mary wrung out another cloth and began wiping the blood off Beau’s face and neck.
After that was complete, Mary wrapped another one of the clean cloths around Beau’s head to keep the rag in place against his injured jaw.
“I don’t think his jaw is broken,” Mama whispered as she helped Beau to his feet. “If it was, I doubt he’d be able to speak.”
“This time,” Mary said standing also. “Will you send for the doctor, my lady? To be certain it’s not more serious than you think?”
Mama shook with fear. “You know I cannot do that, Mary. He’ll make it worse next time.” Mama bent her head, and Annabelle felt the shame and fear emanating from her.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Mary replied, her voice filled with resignation and sadness. She made her way toward the door with the wet, red rags and the bowl. Without looking back, she said, “I’ll bring fresh night rails for you and Lady Annabelle, my lady. And I’ll be back to fetch the others to wash.”
“Thank you.” Mama’s voice was hollow.
Pressing the hot rag to his jaw, Beau limped away to his bedchamber. Annabelle stayed with her mother until Mary returned. Annabelle hurriedly tossed her blood-soaked night rail over her head and put on the fresh new one that Mary had given her. Mama went into her dressing room to do the same.
“I’ll see to Lord Beaumont,” Mary said, pausing again at the door on her way out. “I’ll ensure his clothing is washed also.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Mama said again, before turning toward Annabelle.
“Annabelle, darling, do you want to sleep in my bed?” Mama asked after the servant had left.
“Yes, Mama,” Annabelle replied, nodding. This was their ritual. Annabelle liked to stay with her mother on nights like this, so she could see that Mama remained safe. She wasn’t being brave. Father had gone down to his study and would drink himself into a stupor, waking up halfway through the day tomorrow, gruff, and unapologetic. He always did.
Mama flung back the covers on the opposite side of her bed. Annabelle climbed up, then crawled over the mattress to snuggle at her mother’s side. Mama pulled the covers over them both and hugged her close to her warm body. Mama always smelled like rosewater. Annabelle breathed in the familiar scent and let out her pent-up breath. At least it would be weeks before she would have to be this worried again.
