Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She was on her way out when she saw it.
The door to Alexander's bedroom was usually left shut, that was how he liked it. But the house had been unusually stuffy that morning that Catherine had asked Beatrice to prop it open before she left. She'd never snoop through his things, Alexander deserved better than that.
He'd been absent lately only due to necessity. Whereas their father was pleased at the opportunity to leave for weeks, Alexander had been less so. He loved his sisters and he'd worried about them being left alone for so long, more so than their own father apparently.
When Daniel had left the party early to go get married, Alexander hadn't thought much of it. When he'd returned some weeks later and found out that his colleague's new bride was Alexander's own flesh and blood things had almost gotten violent. Not at Daniel, though Alexander wasn't too pleased about all the gloating the boy had done about his new wife now knowing it was Beatrice. No, Alexander's anger was directed firmly at his own father, for letting Beatrice, lovely, windswept Beatrice.
No one understood her the way her brother did. Which is why she knew he'd be hurt if he saw where she was.
She really hadn't meant to snoop. But jammed under one of the posts of Alexander's bed had been a piece of paper. At first she'd thought maybe a draft through the house had knocked it off a table, but when she'd gone to pick it up she'd realised it had been shoved there deliberately. That was enough to make her leave it alone, not wanting to damage it, or even really caring what was on it.
That didn't stop her name from locking onto the name at the bottom.
Abigail.
Her brother had been exchanging letters with the Berman girl, that was news to her. It wasn't out of the question, Abigail and Alexander were both a year older than Beatrice, they'd grown up in the same town. Abigail was one of Beatrice's greatest friends, and she loved her brother more than anything. If there were two people who deserved to be happy and in love, it was them.
So, she'd left the letter, propped open the door and left the house with a kiss to her mother's cheek.
She had the vague notion that she should tell Abigail she was happy for them - if they were in fact involved - as she walked across the town square, or perhaps she should check on Hannah, if she had in fact been given a fright by her father.
Then Mad Thomas had grabbed her, and that notion was gone. His hands were damp, and he leered over at her, unwashed and uncaring. Snarling at her like she'd wronged him.
"The dark one..." he muttered. They'd attracted attention. Mad Thomas laying his hands on a married woman, people were ready to step in. He shoved her and she stumbled back.
Isaac was there, watching, but the second she'd been pushed he was there to catch her. A rotten apple dropped from his hand. Abigail and Sarah stood behind him.
