The Lady Justice

Chapter XXXVII: I Blame, I Blame Not

Lady Therese De Beauharnais, Duchess of Roche

29 November, Year 32 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Roche Manor, Roche

Monrique

My heart thudded loud and hard against my ribcage.

Every candle in the room was snuffed out. I lay naked, pale, and frozen with fright on the wet sheets beneath me, as I felt his hands reach for me yet again that night. Soon after, his lips began to roam over my body.

There was pain, as usual. He was rather fond of biting when he kissed, and pinch where my skin was most sensitive. For women, pain was pleasure, he reasoned.

I could assure him, a thousand times over, that it was not.

I gritted my teeth, and lay still. My eyes traced the gold-embossed patterns on the ceiling with an icy determination, and followed the gentle swirl of the glass crystals hanging from the chandelier.

It would be over soon. Dawn could not be so far away now.

At that moment, he rose up on his elbows. I instinctively turned my head to the side and squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the sheets at the edge of the bed, waiting for the inevitable.

I did not want to see any part of him. If I did not see, I would not remember later -

"Open your eyes, Therese," he growled, "I want you to look at me."

I tried to calm myself down. I could not allow the fear to show on my countenance. He liked it, fed off it, even. As I had been discovering over the course of this one night alone, my tears and my fear only aroused him further.

I opened my eyes.

He was panting with anticipation, his face dark red, ready to descend upon me -

"Nay!"

A blood-curdling scream tore out of my throat. Shoving the many blankets and pillows that were piled on my body off me, I stumbled and struggled to sit upright on my bed. My whole body was drenched in perspiration, and I was shaking badly.

Where was I? What was I doing –

I looked down at myself, at my surroundings, with wide eyes. I frantically patted my arms, my legs, making sure there was still fabric covering my body.

I could not breathe -

While I was doing so, the long sleeves of my nightclothes rode up my arms, to reveal blue-black bruises, shaped like fingers, where Lord Bertrand had gripped me earlier that day. The skin around those bruises were a bright, angry red, still warm to the touch, due to the countless number of times I had scrubbed and scrubbed myself with scalding hot water -

I pulled the sleeves all the way down to my fingertips forcefully.

I did not want to see them. I did not want to remember. I did not –

I took deep, rapid breaths. You are safe now, Tess. You are safe.

The realisation did nothing to help. My heart still raced, my countenance still pale. I could still vividly recall the manner in which his sweaty palms slithered over my body, his teeth grazed and bit down on my skin.

I shuddered. Mayhap I should have asked Clara to sleep next to me tonight.

However, I had all but ordered everyone to leave me alone for the rest of the day. Although they meant well, I could not handle their suffocating concern, their anger, their guilt on my behalf. It was more than I could deal with in the present -