The ballroom heaves with crowds of people; some twirl around the raised platform of the dance floor, some huddle in corners squealing with laughter and most of them jostling each other around the ballroom, determined to get to their predetermined destinations. The air is heavy with idle gossiping, the latest scandals and pointless bickering over which woman is the best dressed. The oxygen I breathe mixes with the smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol, combining to create a deadly odour.
I sit at a table, staring down at the silk white cloth with a red stripe through it, designed to give the ball that upper-class feel it so direly requires. I am at a ball with Emmanuel; his family remained at home this once. Two nights ago, an invite was sent to us by a Mr. and Mrs Hadeston, asking if we could honour them by having our first public outing as husband and wife to the ball they are holding. The ball is in favour of their twenty-one year old daughter, who has apparently just announced her second pregnancy.
Emmanuel sits opposite me, his beady eyes fixed on me.
Finally, unable to bear his gaze on me, I snap, "Yes, Emmanuel?"
Emmanuel smirks. "You look rather enchanting tonight. Is there anybody you were hoping to impress?"
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and then scan the grandeur of the ballroom. "Yes, actually." I point in the direction of an elderly man with a record-breaking moustache drowning in a stupor of alcohol. "Him. Do you not think he is rather dashing?"
To my surprise, instead of lashing out angrily at me, Emmanuel lets out a bellow of laughter.
"Oh, Eloise, do not jest so! My sides ache already from the excess of food!" He cracks a grin, baring all his teeth.
I regard him silently, not acknowledging his comment with a response. Emmanuel's laughter dies down and he looks at me intently, his eyes burning through me with a curiosity I have never met before.
"What?" I whisper, unable to muster enough courage to be able to emit any sound louder than that.
Emmanuel leans forward and says softly, "I wish things weren't like this between us, Eloise. I just wanted to love you. Do you know how hard you make that?"
I wait for him to laugh evilly at me, but the same grave expression holds Emmanuel's face in place.
"I did not want you to love me. My mother wanted you to love me and me to love you." I say, looking at a space above Emmanuel's head.
Emmanuel reaches out and takes my hand across the table. "I know and I do not hold that against you. I would just like for you to be able to look at me and not hate me, at least, for now. We have the rest of our lives to love each other."
I cannot give in to Emmanuel's sweet talking. I have seen this before, many times. One minute, he can be the Prince Charming of every girl's dreams and within the next, he can be a brutal monster.
I shake my head and slide my hand away. "I do not plan for our marriage to last that long, Emmanuel."
"And where will you go?" Emmanuel asks, the hardness in his eyes returning slowly.
"Wherever I go, it won't matter to you." I say, sitting back in my seat and folding my arms.
There is a shrill voice calling Emmanuel's name and Emmanuel sighs, sitting back as a tall, slender woman with striking green eyes rushes to us.
She sends a warm smile in my direction before proceeding to kiss both of Emmanuel's cheeks profusely. "Emmanuel! You made it! The girls are just dying to talk to you two. Let's go!"
She hauls Emmanuel to his feet and grabs my hand, dragging us both along with her like a hurricane of energy. She leads us over to to a gaggle of ladies, who all stop and stare when we approach.
I keep my head raised and my eyes fixed on the space between their heads.
The ladies introduce themselve as Barbara, Betty, Gertrude and Suzanna. They are all around my mother's age and have faint crinkles on the edges of their eyes, which are more pronounced whenever they smile and speak. Laugh lines, my mother would call them. It is a sign of a happy life, she would say.
Well, I guess I will never get those pretty crinkles.
The ladies ramble on and whenever a question is directed at me, I give a mundane answer, disguising it with a smile. The ladies are rather familiar with Emmanuel and they repeatedly touch him, which leaves a slight blush on his face that I am rather amused to see, if I may say so myself. Emmanuel and I while away most of the night with the ladies and I have to admit, they do make me enjoy the night with their rapturous talk and dizzying grins. I laugh in a way that I have not laughed for a while and maybe Emmanuel seems to notice this, because he gives me some space, not suffocating me with his arms for once, letting me stand on my own two feet. I appreciate this, despite everything, and in return, I allow him one dance on the raised platform in the centre of the ballroom.
As we twirl slowly, Emmanuel smiles down at me, "You are enjoying yourself here."
"It is good." I nod. "The ladies were nice, they made me laugh."
Emmanuel's eyes meet mine, "I noticed that. It makes me sad, you know, that I cannot make you laugh like that."
I shake my head and say, "Please, Emmanuel. Not now, not here, not today."
Emmanuel stiffens and his eyes darken. I stiffen and suck in a sharp breath, the cold air from the open window in the corner piercing my lungs like little pieces of glass. His hold tightens on me before relaxing again.
I hear him mumble, "Why don't you just accept me?"
Guilt - despite me instructing it not to - floods my stomach and I swallow nervously, deciding to be honest. "I don't accept you because you took everything away from me. Perhaps, my mother was not the best mother, but she was one piece of a family that I loved. You took Mary away from me, you took Peter away from me, you took Damon away from me, you took Chastity away from me. How can you expect me to accept you when you have snatched everything I live for?"
"If you had not said Damon's name, I would have taken you to your maiden home." Damon says in a threatening voice. "You now have two choices. Either you surrender yourself to me in our chambers tonight and go to your maiden home tomorrow or you do nothing and suffer here in Stonegate."
Fear shoves the guilt away with reckless force and I gasp, looking up into Emmanuel's burning eyes. He stares down at me with a conviction that could make Satan himself bow down in fear.
My breath wrenches itself from my lungs in sharp, shallow spurts. "I cannot do that, Emmanuel. I belong to somebody else."
"He is not here." Emmanuel reminds me. "He will never be near you again, not if I have anything to do with it. You are mine, my queen, my servant. You are mine to do with as I please. Now, kiss me."
"No!" I gasp, attempting to free myself. Emmanuel just holds me tighter and repeats his demand.
I shake my head and keep my gaze averted. Fingers hook under my chin, pulling my face upward. Like a leech, Emmanuel's lips suffocate my own and I bang my fists against his chest, my mouth trapped, aching for oxygen. I allow myself to let my body go slack in his arms for one moment and then, both hands against his chest, push him away roughly before fleeing through a side exit.
I run around to the side of the house, my chest heaving with the exertions of my endeavours to devour oxygen, hot stormy tears racing each other down my face. I slide down to the ground, rubbing my lips with my arm ferociously, trying to get the sting of Emmanuel's mouth away from them. I feel violated, as though somebody has invaded my privacy, as though they have overstepped the mark. Emmanuel has done all of this and more.
From the corner of my eye, I see a bucket of relatively clean water. I dip my hands into it, scooping water into my palms and splashing it on my face, the cold droplets relieving tension from my burning skin. Once most of Emmanuel's touch has been washed away, I lean my head against the wall, listening to the sound of silence and my breathing hitting it like stones skittering across the surface of a pond.
A strange calmness lulls me and my rapid breathing slows as the fear in me withdraws back to wherever it comes from. I sit there for goodness knows how long, my mind blank, my body just focusing on breathing in and out at the most leisurely pace. I do not think of anything, do not dream, do not feel. I just sit there, staring beyond the darkness into profound, non-existent thoughts.
Sounds of clattering hooves make me jump and I peer around the corner of the house to see a horse-ridden coach appear. The coachman sits idly, his head bowed with impatience.
Impulse reigning over me, I scamper over to the coach with my dress hitched up and come to a stop at the coach. The coachman regards me with a shuttered curiosity.
Gathering all of my courage, I say, "Do you know where Kempston Manor is? Twenty miles south from here?"
Before the coachman can respond to my question, my hair is grabbed from behind, my back hitting a firm chest.
"What do you think you're doing?" An infuriated voice hisses in my ear. I freeze, my whole body stiffening, my eyes widening in terror. The voice directs its attention to the coachman, "Colleton Villas. Take us there. Now."
Emmanuel shoves me into the coach, clambering in after me, sitting on the bench and glaring at me with a burning intensity. I curl up against the side of the coach, hugging my knees to my chest, refusing to meet Emmanuel's probing gaze for the journey back to his house. I stay in my position stiffly for the whole journey, too afraid to move in case the slightest movement could ignite a fire in Emmanuel's body, causing him to leap across the coach and beat me violently, or worse, take me for himself. Fear keeps me glued in one spot, my limbs aching for relief, my mind chanting 'keep still' repeatedly.
When the coach rolls to a stop, Emmanuel grabs my hand, heaving me from the coach, stumbling and tripping. He motions for the coach to go back to the hall and drags me towards the house.
The whole family is gathered in the parlour. Emmanuel pulls me into the room and shoves me into the center of the cluster of armchairs that the family occupies. Everyone rises to their feet, their faces identical masks of shock and surprise.
"Emmanuel!" Lady Elizabeth cries in her nasal voice. "What happened? Why are you back so early?"
Emmanuel drags the armchair from behind his father and settles down in it, sitting like a king, elbows resting on the arm rests, one leg folded over the other. "Why don't you ask her?" Emmanuel says, his voice laced with venom.
Everyone turns to look at me and I drag myself into a sitting position, fixing my tear-filled gaze on the opposite wall.
"What happened, Eloise?" Master Phillip's voice makes me snap my head towards him.
"Father..." I begin, but Emmanuel interrupts.
"Do not call him Father!!" Emmanuel picks up a wine flute from a table beside him and throws it to a spot on my right, making little shards bounce off my skin. I do nothing but blink and then, once all the glass has settled, I turn back to Master Phillip.
"Master Phillip, I... I tried to...."
"Tell them!" Emmanuel yells, slamming his fist down on the arm rest.
I visibly jump this time. Clenching my teeth, I begin again, but not before rising to my feet and looking straight at Emmanuel with every ounce of courage that I could possibly muster.
Still staring at Emmanuel, I say, "Master Phillip, I tried to escape. I tried to go home."
There is a collective gasp from Richard, Rose and Lady Elizabeth.
My mother-in-law strides over to me, taking me by the wrist and spinning me around to face her. "Whatever do you mean, escape? Go home? You are not being held hostage. This is your home!"
I scoff without even meaning to. "I beg to differ, Lady Elizabeth."
She draws away from me, her small mouth forming a ring of shock. Her eyes darken perceptively, just like her son's. She says coldly, "Emmanuel, this is the time. Do what we discussed."
Emmanuel smirks and stands up. "Of course, Mother."
He leers at me, walking over and grabbing my forearm, leading me out of the house and round to the back, Master Phillip and his dastardly wife close behind. We approach a shed, shielded by a sturdy padlock. A key is handed to Emmanuel by his mother and he twists the key into the padlock, opening the door. He grabs me by my waist and shoves me into the dark shed.
Dark. Not darkness exactly, more like an all-consuming blackness that robs my senses of me. I can barely hear Emmanuel say, "Enjoy rotting in here" before he leaves. The door shuts with a clang. I hear - vaguely - the sound of the padlock being locked.
I crawl backwards until I feel the rough stone of a wall and then lean my head against it, sighing into the blackness. The blackness sighs back, echoing my voice back at me.
How long will I have to sit here, like this? I hope they bring food soon. My stomach rumbles and the blackness returns it. I roll my eyes; I am fast becoming tired of the confining shed and it's echoing blackness. There is one positive thing I can derive from this. Emmanuel will not be able to take my purity from me, not tonight, anyway.
Despite my unfortunate situation, I allow myself a small smile...
I uploaded! Yay! Sorry about the long wait, exams have been bogging me down like crazy! I have two exams left, Chemistry and Physics, both of which are next week, so I should be uploading again either next week or during the week after! Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Lightness :)