Collection of Older Works

Flashbacks of a Fool: Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

Moments before...

Nathaniel closed the door with restrained fury. Bringing clenched fists to his mouth, he shut his eyes tightly. Could there be an even more disagreeable woman in all the earth than Mrs. Melbourne? Scoffing, he smoothed down his coat. Of all things he hated most in the world it had to be insufferable women who thought themselves holy, inflicting pain on helpless souls. Sure, his reputation consisted of some undesirable connotations, but unjust and crude would never define him.

Swallowing deeply, he tamed the fire raging in his veins as a dispiriting thought settled upon him. Yes, there could be someone more disagreeable than Mrs. Melbourne...the daughter. Oh, but he would handle her immediately. All be damned if Madeline thought she would bring her hellish upbringing to his household. Secret or no secret, if she ever dared behave in the same fashion Mrs. Melbourne had just behaved, he would send her packing back to her demon of a mother.

Nathaniel flinched stepped from the door and flinched. A loud clapping sound halted his steps. The sound was definite. Unmistakable. Someone was slapped. As much as he felt Martha capable of thrashing Mrs. Melbourne, he accepted it not to be the case.

Martha's face swirled into his mind as he remembered her dulled eyes widening when he mentioned they met at the bakery. His blood went cold. Could he have been any more stupid? Of course she would get into trouble! What spare time did maidservants ever have to their disposal? But most importantly, what disposable wages did they possess to spend so frivolously? And of all trivial places, in a bakery? Mrs. Melbourne must've been beside herself. What a foolish mistake.

A slight grin welcomed itself onto Nathaniel's lips upon recalling her slip of words, but it quickly faded as his mind offered another lingering image: her sad eyes. Recalling the shock in her stare when he first entered the room, they barely held any expression at all. Almost like a wavering candle. But could she be blamed? How could her spirit not wean with thrashing after thrashing on her undoubtedly soft skin…

Nathaniel's eyes widened. Soft skin? Where did that come from?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he forced himself from the door. Air. He needed air. Perhaps it was the brandy still attacking his senses, or the country air—

A sharp thump emanated followed by a hollow thud, both of which gripped Nathaniel's stomach. And suddenly before he could think further there was a weak groan. His fists clenched, but he forced himself from the door. He had to keep walking. It didn't concern him. Yet, before his next blink, he found himself relinquishing all proper conduct. He pushed the door open.

A trembling Martha lay on the floor cradling her cheek, while her other hand nursed her ribcage. His blood congealed, eyes cut viciously into the demon towering over her.

Mrs. Melbourne recoiled. She gasped, seizing Martha’s arm and yanking her to standing. “My lord!”

Thrusting the shaking girl behind her, Mrs. Melbourne managed, "Is there a p-p-problem?” while absently adjusting a curl back into place. Nathaniel blinked, expecting them to be snakes.

He looked back to Martha. Her already sad eyes glistened with refused tears. She inhaled, but grimaced in pain, causing Nathaniel to inwardly cringe. She had been hit...undoubtedly kicked as well. He gulped down his rage. He had to speak before his thoughts overtook his mouth,

"A word Mrs. Melbourne," he heard himself speak, "In private." The frigidness of his voice surprised even him. Normally a man of seldom emotion, Nathaniel found his fingers wound into tight fists. Though he would never strike a woman, he was beginning to think Mrs. Melbourne as anything but.