Chapter Text
The night after the Sheffield dinner, Kate could not sleep.
The room was dark save for the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. She lay in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, her mind numb after the events of the past few hours.
What burden would it be to marry the person I love?
From the moment her head hit the pillow, she had heard that same sentence over and over again.
Edwina loved him. She was in love with him. She wanted to be his wife, his viscountess.
And Kate had no idea what to do.
There had been a sinking, sickly feeling when Edwina, with a trembling chin, had asked Kate what would happen now. All Kate could offer was a mere, ‘I do not know.’ Her sister's disappointment did not need to be expressed in words; that simple nod had said it all—Edwina had never expected anything more from her.
The worst part was that Kate could not resent her; just hours prior, she had been alone in the parlour with the very man her sister loved.
Night and day, I dream of you…Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced?
She could still feel his breath upon her cheek; still recall the way his mouth had slotted against hers.
How callous he was to whisper his secret desires into her mouth; to cradle her face like it was more than just his lust-fueled mind talking. How cruel of him to pull away at the last minute.
I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you…Is that the future that you want for us? For your sister?
She could have told him right then that it was not at all what she wanted. She could have told him just how much she wanted. But he knew her wants had never mattered, and she knew his words were meaningless—ramblings of a man temporarily swayed by illicit temptations. This would not last the eternity he had spoken of. It was too tenuous to last even six months. The damage Edwina would sustain—and her subsequent scorn—would last far longer. That future was scarier than any he could imagine.
The solution was clear, the decision easy. Yet, her chest tightened at the thought of it. It did not make sense. She had experienced things far worse than this—Amma dying, Appa joining her, the years that followed after he did. She had come out fine each time. This one decision would barely leave a mark on her.
Still, she could not stop from pressing her hand over her eyes. Tears wet her palm.
She had to do it, even if it hurt. She had to beg him to allow things to proceed as they should. All would be well—she would convince him of this. In the near future, they would both be at his wedding. By the time her feet landed on Indian soil, she would be a distant memory. If they ever saw each other again, she would be a sister.
Her sobs were becoming louder. She was alone in the room and the entire household was asleep, but she was nonetheless afraid her crying might awaken someone. Trying to silence herself, she lifted the coverlet over her head, turned on her side, and pressed the side of her face against the mattress.
She was so focused on suppressing her own noises that she did not register the others—not the ticking of the clock nor the crackling of the embers. She did not register the shuffling noises beneath her bed, the pushing aside of a trunk, or even the low grunts. It was not until heavy footsteps fell against the floorboards right next to her bed that she stilled.
Voices started speaking.
“He owes me a new archery set for this one.”
“Archery set? I'm demanding an entire hunting lodge.”
Her heartbeat immediately set off at a rapid pace, every muscle in her body poised for danger. The voices were male.
Two men had just crawled out from underneath her bed.
Fear and confusion quickly seized her. Were they burglars? Abductors? How long had they been there? How had they gotten in?
Her legs were flexed, motionless yet straining to flee. She did not know whether to confront them or to stay quiet while they took whatever they were there for.
Should she stay still? Confront them? Grab Newton and run?
“God, this dust. They'll notice when we get back.”
They patted at their clothes. They were bold for two criminals—they did not bother concealing their noises.
“She'll notice, you mean? Don't think I don't know the real reason why you're here.”
“Fine, yes, she'll notice.”
Who were they talking about? Were they after one of the ladies of the house? She gripped the coverlet tightly. What if it was Mary or Edwina?
“Oh, little brother, could it be true love this time? Or is it just her huge-”
“Stop.”
A laugh. “All right, all right. Come on, we should get back.”
The floor creaked beneath their feet as they walked around her bed.
She had to act quick. She could not let them get away if they intended to hurt one of the ladies. But judging by the sounds of their gaits, she would not be able to physically overpower them. Her only fighting chance was now; they must have had their backs turned, so if she grabbed something—perhaps the brass candlestick on the nightstand—she could ambush them.
There was sweat at her temples and she was breathing in short, panicked huffs. Without letting herself delay any further, she threw off the coverlet, reached blindly for the candlestick, and rushed forward, aiming straight for the two figures.
She struck the larger one on what she assumed was his arm.
“Ow!” He yelped and recoiled. The noise awakened Newton, who began barking at the intruders.
Not thinking twice, she brought the candlestick down again, aiming for the faint outline of his head this time. But two hands quickly grabbed her wrists before her blow could land.
“Woah, Woah, Woah!” The second figure struggled to keep her in his hold as she thrashed. She tugged at her wrists, trying to swing at him even as his grip tightened. “Stop! Stop this! Who are you?”
“Hold on, I've got him!” The larger one lunged at her, the two of them landing on the bed. The candlestick fell with a dull thud on the mattress.
“It's a lady!”
“Wait, she smells-”
”Look out, the dog!”
Newton leap up onto the bed, his paws scampering over her as he growled at the man.
”Woah!” His hold loosened enough that she was able to shake him off, scramble over the bed, and land on the other side, Newton following behind. With the moonlight streaming in from the windows behind her, she was able to see the double doors. She backed away, her eyes nervously darting towards the doors as she planned her escape. If she ran fast enough, she could alert Mary and Edwina.
The two figures remained on the other side of the bed. She did not give herself time to wonder why they were not going after her; she took the opportunity to sprint the few feet towards the doors.
Her palm was so clammy she thought it might slip off the doorknob, but she managed to grab it and twist. But just before she swung the door open, one of them spoke.
“Wait, wait!” he exclaimed. “...Amma? Is that you?”