Chapter 12
Lettie sat on the edge of her bed nervously twisting the sash on her robe over and over until the smooth material resembled a piece of coarse string instead of fine silk. Her nerves were on edge and she jumped at every sound, both real and imagined. It was almost a relief when her bedroom door was finally thrown open to reveal her husband standing on the other side. He had dressed in a hurry and his clothing was askew, the waistcoat open and his shirt buttoned incorrectly. Lettie was thankful that he had managed to fasten his breeches but she frowned at seeing him barefoot. Dried blood matted his hair and the ugly purple bruise above his temple was hard to miss. His nose had been bleeding and it now possessed a crooked appearance.
“Bitch,” Phillip said in a voice that was oddly thick but nevertheless calm.
Lettie’s fear escalated. If her husband had been raging and screaming, she would have stood a chance, but she knew from experience his ice-cold demeanor meant he was at his worst. She had no doubt that if Phillip were ever to commit murder, and at this moment she could not state with any degree of certainty that he had not, it would be as the chilling figure now standing before her. Unable to move, she watched as he went to the washstand and poured water from the ewer into the basin. After soaking a linen cloth, he proceeded to wipe away most of the dried blood from his temple before sitting next to her on the bed.
“Did you plan this?” he asked with no change to his tone. “With her?”
Lettie clutched at her throat, barely able to breathe, much less speak. “P-p-plan w-w-what?”
“That whore’s escape,” Phillip said. His voice may have been calm, but his eyes were murderous. “I know you helped her find her way out of this house tonight. She could not have managed it alone.”
Lettie’s throat constricted, rendering her unable to utter a word. She stared at her husband like a mouse hypnotized by a snake, knowing it was in imminent danger, but completely powerless to save itself.
“There is no one else who would dare defy my authority, although”—Phillip reached out and caught a lock of her hair, idly twisting it in his fingers—“this act of rebellion on your part has quite surprised me.” He jerked his hand suddenly, pulling her hair tight and forcing her face closer to his. “I really didn’t think you had it in you,” he whispered as a cruel smile twisted his mouth. “But such disobedience will, of course, require punishment.” And loosening her hair, he gripped her upper arm and pulled her from the bed.
“I hate you!” Lettie screamed, finding her voice and surprising both of them as years of pent up fear and revulsion were released with those three words.
“I had no idea you were capable of such passion,” Phillip sneered, “but I would ask you not to flatter yourself, madam, by presuming I share the sentiment. Believe me when I say you mean nothing to me.”
Phillip punched his wife in the face, smiling in satisfaction as she dropped to the floor, gagging and retching on the blood that gushed from her nose. Reaching down, he grabbed her by the arm once more, and jerked her to her feet.
Shrieking, Lettie tried to pull away, but Phillip’s grip was strong, and he easily ignored her feeble efforts. All she could do was try to keep up as he marched her down the hall to Catherine’s room. Opening the door, he flung her to the floor, where she barely missed the puddle of vomit on the carpet. Tears streamed down Lettie’s face, mixing with the blood and mucus that ran from her nose, and forcing her to spit out the contents of her mouth with each breath she tried to take, lest she choke. She struggled to her knees, only to be sent sprawling by a vicious kick.
“She was mine,” Phillip snarled, standing over his prostrate wife. “Mine! To do with as I pleased, for as long as I wanted.”
“You’re mad!” Lettie said thickly, turning her head and spraying him as she spoke.
Phillip looked down at himself, curling his lip in distaste at the globules of bloody mucus splattered on his clothes. “Mad, am I?” It wasn’t a real question, and he leaned closer, making his wife cringe in terror as his voice dropped to an icy calm. “You forget yourself, my dear. The state of my mind is of no consequence because, regardless, I am still your husband, which means I can do with you as I will.”
The look in his eyes was pure evil. A malevolence so deep that Lettie, fearing for her life, curled into a ball. She covered her head with her arms, and so did not see Phillip fetch the iron poker from the fireplace. The first blow carried all the weight of his frustration and rage, and she was unable to stifle the scream of agony as she felt the bone in her thigh break. The years of abuse at her husband’s hands had taught Lettie to hold her tongue, knowing Phillip took pleasure in hearing evidence of his mistreatment. Screams, whimpers, even a stifled sob would only guarantee a continuation of the torment. So though he rained down blow after blow on her unprotected body, Lettie kept silent, almost biting through her lower lip in order to do so.
Finally the events of the night caught up to Phillip, and the ache in his arm forced him to drop the heavy poker and stagger out of the room. Uncovering her head with her arms, Lettie fought the lightheadedness trying to suck her down and take her to a place she didn’t want to go. She was in acute physical distress. Phillip had hit her before, but he had never before shown such savagery. She had been certain he meant to kill her, and for the life of her, had no idea what had stopped him.
Excruciating pain ripped through her shattered leg. The throbbing, fiery ache spread from her foot to her hip, and halfway up her back. Raising her head slightly, she caught sight of the bed, and the bloodstained sheets half pulled off, and the strips of fabric still wrapped around the bedposts. She stared in horror as she realized what they had been used for. Too weak to move, Lettie was unable to prevent the vile images that filled her head, revealing all too clearly what Phillip had done to Catherine, reminding her what she herself had experienced at his hands.
But never this, oh dear God, it had never been as bad as this!
As the bed began to swim before her, Lettie allowed a brief moment of satisfaction to fill her. It blossomed like a flower in her chest, infusing her with a sense of rightness, knowing she had helped Catherine escape.
“God lead you to a safe haven, Catherine, and keep you in his hands,” she whispered just before she plummeted into the realms of darkness where only agony waited.