CHAPTER TEN
NICHOLAS
“Can I get you anything else, Sir?” Reggie pours my second cup of coffee while I finish off the bacon with a poached egg that I always have for my breakfast.
“No, thank you — I’m full.” We have the same exchange every morning. I sometimes think I should ask him for an apple just to alter the monotony of the conversation. “Are any of the girls awake?”
“I believe Miss Sandford has called for breakfast in her room today. She’s apparently suffering from that ‘time of her month’ and needs to rest. Miss Amelia has been for a swim and is eating a croissant in the ladies’ dining room.”
“What about Miss Hamilton?”
“Miss Hamilton has been confined to her room.”
“On whose orders?” I place my knife and fork down and look up at him.
“Mine, Sir. She was up early and looking for ways to leave Oakfield Hall. I’m afraid the guards found it rather tiresome after the third escape attempt, so I ordered her to be taken back to her room.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“That woman will be the death of me.”
“I have a feeling she may be the death of a lot of people before you make your decision,” Reggie replies with a shake of his own head.
“Does she have any reading material left in her room?” I ask.
“You’ve not given me orders to have it returned yet.”
“No, I haven’t. I tell you what. Have one of the guards escort her to the pool. In her manifesto, it said that she likes to swim one hundred lengths a day. Have them tell her that if she swims that amount, then she’ll be rewarded with the return of her books. If she defies, or tries to escape again, then all the furniture will be removed from her room. Hopefully doing something energetic will tire her out a little and placate her.”
Reggie motions to look out the window.
“What?”
“I thought that I saw a flying pig, Sir.”
“She does provoke that reaction.” I push my chair back and go to stand, but I am interrupted by my father’s gruff voice from the doorway.
“Who does?”
Reggie looks at me.
“Miss Hamilton.” I reluctantly concede, knowing that there’s no point in lying to him.
“What has she done now?” He stomps over to his seat at the head of our small family dining table and sits down. Reggie steps forward and pours him coffee. My father doesn't say thank you.
“Nothing of concern, Your Grace. It’s been dealt with.” I finally get to my feet and bow to my father with the intention of taking my leave. He doesn’t let me go, though.
“Why you had to choose her to continue on, I’ll never know.”
“She is different from the other girls. I don’t know what I want in a wife, yet. I chose the girls that all offer me something unique in the hopes that I make the right decision for the society,” I offer in reply.
“She deserves to be tied to a bed and fucked raw.”
“If I choose her to be my wife, then I’ll make sure I do that.”
My father takes a long sip of his coffee.
“She spoiled my fun last night. Having one of the girls was my right, and you left me with one who just lay there and took it. She didn’t even scream once.”
“Daphne Knight?” I enquire with a hint of frustration in my voice.
“Don’t get all high and mighty with me. You knew full well what would happen to her and the other one, when you didn’t choose them.” Reggie steps forward as my father speaks and places a napkin over his lap. “Full English breakfast, Mr. Hane.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Reggie disappears into the kitchen as fast as his tired legs can carry him.
“Is she still alive?” I ask.
“I don’t always kill them.” My father purses his lips in disgust.
“No, just leave them completely broken.” I want nothing more to do with this conversation. A woman is a precious thing and not there to be beaten to a pulp while you get off in her pussy.
“She was fine when West took her.”
“Did he fuck her as well?” I’m fuming.
“She has more than one hole — so of course he did,” my father chuckles. I want to rip his head off. “Don’t start having morals now. Everything that's happening here is for you and your future. Grow a pair of balls and man up.” My father turns his evil eyes on me. They bore into my soul and deny me any hope I have of being innocent. Daphne Knight was brutally raped and beaten last night. She's probably lying dead in a gutter somewhere because of me. I can’t change what’s happening, but I can try to soften the blow for the three girls left. Once I make my choice, two more will be sold. I can only save one girl and bring her in to the hell I live. At least there, as my wife, I can protect her.
“You and that piece of paper may govern the tasks the girls have to perform, but it doesn’t tell me everything that I should do. I’m going to spend time with each of the girls today — a date around the property.”
My father lets out a rambunctious laugh.
“What’s the point? You just need to marry her, fuck her, and stick a male heir in her belly. Then, once she has given birth, she can go up in the rafters of the house and descend into the kind of obscurity that is only found at the sharp end of a heroin needle — just like your mother.”
I step back because I’m on the verge of punching my own father. I can feel my blood boiling with fury, and my hands shaking. I take hold of the back of a chair to ensure that my hands are gripped tightly around something, other than my father’s neck.
“Actually, Father” ‒I stress the alien word with venom‒ “I would like a loving Mother for any children I have, not a drugged up waste of space like my own was. You always tell me that I’m a disappointment to you. Maybe, if I’d had a caring mother, I might actually have ended up as much of a bastard as you are.”
I don’t wait for his reply. I don’t want to hear it. I’ll take the girls out and get to know them better. I’m bound by the document that prescribes my future, but I don’t have to do everything the way my father wants. If I’m going to have to marry, I’m going to make sure that it’s with a woman who won’t be a mess by the time she pushes out my first child. And fuck, I need to look into ways to make sure that any children we have are girls, so, hopefully, I can end this whole sordid charade.