Free The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) by Margaret Brazear Page B

I think I know what he wants from me and I
cannot do it, I really cannot.”
       
“What do you think he wants, My Lady?”
       
“I know not where he is getting his supply of little girls, but I imagine he
wants me to help him in that.”
       
The conversation was interrupted by the Monster striding into the chamber and
tossing a cloak at me.  It was the black velvet hooded cloak that Richard
had given me and I suddenly felt angry that he had soiled it with his deviant’s
hands.
       
“You can leave,” he told Lucy and when she had gone he turned to me.  “I
have been thinking and I am quite glad that I do not need to explain anything
to you.  When I go to orphanages alone, the people in charge are
suspicious.  That is what I need you for.  We will go this morning;
there is one not far from here.  If they believe that you want to adopt a
daughter, it will make things very much easier.”  He paused and his eyes
swept me from head to foot, then he smirked.  “No one will believe that you
mean any harm.”
       
I had not yet decided what I was going to do to evade the journey, but I
carefully avoided the velvet cloak and selected a red one from the chest. 
That cloak was chosen for me by someone who cared and I would not taint it or
its memories by wearing it for this mission.  I closed my eyes as I tied
the ribbons at the neck, praying that Richard would come and rescue me.
       
In the coach on the way to the orphanage I tried to plan a way out for myself
and whatever poor child he decided to take.  I had to be careful.  I
had married for survival and nothing had changed; I could not afford to be
without him.  He drove the coach himself, so he obviously did not care to
trust a coachman with this mission, but that could well be to my advantage.
       
“What do you intend to do with the child when you have had your fun?”  I
asked bitterly as we alighted the coach.
       
“She is just an orphan,” he replied with a shrug.  “No one will miss
her.  It was different with you; you were important and had to be
returned.  That’s why Mr Carter made your father think he was taking
money.  I did not want to use you, it was him
that was obsessed.  I thought it was too dangerous.”
       
“So you intend to kill her?”
       
“What else?  Once soiled she will be of no further use
to me.”
       
I could not believe that anyone would talk like that and mean it.  I had
no weapon with me, though why I had not thought to bring one I could not
say.  I was desperately afraid of being alone and penniless, of being
destitute, but who was more important?  Me or another
helpless child?   I had not had anyone to rescue me, but this child
would be different.
       
I said nothing as we entered the orphanage, as my illustrious husband
introduced himself and his Marchioness and expressed a wish, a deep desire to adopt
a little girl.
       
“Alas,” he said quietly to the warden in charge, “Her Ladyship is unable to
conceive.  We thought a little girl would be a good choice, someone she
can share her feminine skills with.”
       
The warden suspected nothing, but took us down some stairs into a large room
with many beds, on which sat many little girls, some as young as only two or
three.  They were each of them filthy dirty, as though nobody bothered to
see to their hygiene, and all looked thin and underfed.  A couple had lice
running through their hair and I shivered and wanted to scratch.
       
“What do you think my dear?”  The Monster said, turning to me.  “You
choose.  You are to be her mother.”
       
Me?  He wanted me to choose which child would suffer the same horrors that
I had suffered?  It could not happen; I could not let it happen.  But
what could I do?  If I gave him away, the warden would likely not believe
me.  A man with such a beautiful wife would never need to do such a thing.
That is what he would think and that is the reason he