Free Fragile Mask by Elizabeth Bailey Page A

as the thunderous gaze she knew
so well, feared so acutely, was turned upon her.
    ‘ Going?’ came in a guttural tone from Nathaniel. His chest
heaved. His stature was not above the average, tending to the lean
hardness of muscle rather than fat, but aroused he appeared to
grow, a menacing force standing squarely in the path of escape.
‘You dare to say you are going?’
    ‘ No, Nathaniel, no...’
    The feeble response, hardly an answer, more the
plea for mercy that Verena had so often heard on her mother’s lips,
sliced through her own fear, strengthening her will. She could not
stop now. She dared not, for fear of the consequences to
Mama.
    ‘ We—are—going,’ she reiterated, clenching her teeth against
the trembling at her mouth, her hold on her mother
tightening.
    Nathaniel ignored Verena as if she was of no account, his
eyes burning at the shivering form of his spouse. His voice grated
on her name.
    ‘ Abigail! Would you leave me, Abigail? I am your husband. You belong
here. What of your vows? You owe me a duty,
Abigail.’
    At that, all the pent-up
emotion in Verena erupted.
    ‘ You vile monster!’ she threw at him. ‘She owes
you nothing . You have
destroyed her life!’
    Nathaniel barely glanced her way. ‘You are not leaving me,
Abigail.’
    Then, wasting no more words, he moved, striding towards his
wife. Mrs Peverill cried out in fear, and Betsey screamed. Verena,
knowing that she could not afford to fail now, tried to shift Mama
away that she might avoid him. But Mrs Peverill, terrified, was
rooted to the floor. In seconds, Nathaniel was upon them. Hardly
glancing where he struck, he flung the back of one hand at Verena’s
face, beating her aside.
    Then he seized his
wife.
    Half-falling, Verena caught at the maid, who steadied her,
clucking in fright and anger, and then grabbing at Verena’s beaver
hat that dropped from its place and rolled. But Verena had no ears
for this, no eyes for anything but Mama, held between two iron
fists of a man insane with fury.
    ‘ Adam!’ she screamed. ‘Help us!’
    Her brother had seemed to stand transfixed, hardly able to
take in the scene. But as his father struck out at Verena,
something snapped in his head. Filial duty was forgotten. By the
time his sister called for his aid, he had flung off his beaver,
tossed aside his whip and gloves, and was already halfway across
the hall.
    At nineteen, Adam had not the half of his father’s physical
strength. But a flying leap threw him onto the man’s back, the
sheer weight of the impact driving Nathaniel to the floor. Verena
shrieked in unison with Betsey, for his hold was so strong that he
took his wife with him.
    But Adam, scrambling free, wrenched his mother out of the
now slackened grasp, and shoved her to one side with some
violence.
    Verena was on her haunches, dragging Mama to bring her to
her feet, the maid at her side in an instant.
    She saw, with a sense of shock, her brother fling himself
on top of Nathaniel, holding him down only by virtue of the fact
that the breath had been knocked from his father’s body by his
fall.
    Hardly had Verena and Betsey drawn the shocked and
bewildered Mrs Peverill back onto her unsteady feet, her bonnet
awry and her dress disarranged, than Nathaniel was seen to be
recovering, letting out a roar more frightening than the earlier
menace of his angry tongue.
    Adam drew back a fist and slammed it into his father’s
face.
    ‘ Adam!’ Verena shrieked in shock.
    ‘ Go!’ he yelled, as Nathaniel’s head recoiled under the
blow, hitting at the hard tiling of the floor. ‘Go, Verena! Take
her, for the love of God!’
    Gathering her wits, Verena caught at her mother’s
shoulders.
    ‘ Come on, Mama! Betsey, quick! There is no saying how long
Adam can hold him. Hurry, we must hurry!’
    Betsey was quick to follow her lead, catching at her
mistress on the other side, still clutching Verena’s beaver in one
hand, as Squire Peverill’s fist rose up against his own son, the
two