Athenia's Choice (ON HOLD)

Athenia's Choice: Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

My eyes widened in shock, and my hands went up to my trembling mouth in horror. Mrs Beaumont and Cordelia staggered to the battered sofa where they laid the bloodstained Henry Beaumont down. Mrs Beaumont barely had time to register me as she threw open cupboard doors, pulling out scrap material, pills, medicines and all sorts.

“What happened?” Charles asked in concerned and urgent tones.

“He went off on his high horse to a tavern again,” Mrs Beaumont said resentfully.

“Mother,” Charles pressed, catching hold of her grimy sleeve. Their eyes connected stonily for a minute, but the fear in her eyes was not hidden.

“His horse was stolen and he was beaten up. We found him slumped in a gutter, holding coins he says his horses’ kidnapper left him, but I’m not surprised if he was plain beggin’,” Mrs Beaumont explained exasperatedly, dabbing a coarse flannel in a bowl of lukewarm tap water.

Guilt was harshly stabbing me straight through the heart, twisting and turning manipulatively to bring me to my uttermost regret and horror. The ‘HB’ on the horse’s bridle had been for Henry Beaumont. I had taken his steed and made a very, very bad choice.

Now, he was lying wounded on the sofa, and it was entirely my fault. My body tensed up. I was pleased I had not told Charles that part of the story earlier during my recount, otherwise it might have been me tossed out onto those dark, forbidding alleyways once he learnt what I had done.

Mrs Beaumont watched over her husband. Despite her wealthy background, she clearly was still in love with this roguish, poor, drunken man to nurse him so tenderly. Cordelia eyed the scene in horror, as many blood-drenched bandages were given to her to throw away.

Charles tried to fetch a doctor, but his mother told him bluntly that they couldn’t afford one, unless they used Charles and Cordelia’s monthly well-keeping money from Charlotte De La Blois.

That first hour was agony, watching Henry groan and mumble in uttermost pain. Guilt was still pumping harshly inside me. I was such a coward because I couldn’t even summon the words and courage to confess.

“Athenia, dear, would you run over to the apothecary and see if they have any advice for us or any low-priced medicines?” Mrs Beaumont asked me tiredly, with a pleading look in her eyes as she clutched her husband’s hand.  I nodded instantly, tearing out the door. I stood there, taking deep breaths; if there was any time to save Henry Beaumont, it was now.

I sprinted down the streets, pushing thoughts of my aching ankle to the corner of my mind. My scarf flew off but I did not stop to retrieve it. It was around lunchtime, I presumed, as I could smell the heavenly scents of soups and spices wafting out windows. I found the apothecary easily, bursting in through the door.

“Are you alright, madam?” the man who was stacking shelves asked, eyeing my ankle.

“Never mind about me, I need something for Mr Beaumont- he’s bleeding severely and keeps coughing atrociously!” I blurted out desperately.

“Have you any money for a diabetic cough solution?” he enquired.

“No,” I wailed miserably and pointlessly, looking up into his eyes pleadingly, “Please give me some, I’ll pay you back!”

He sighed back:

“Dear child, we both know that you will never pay me back. The Beaumonts have as scarce money as I have undergarments! I can give you an old apron to cut up for bandages, wait here.” I didn’t want to wait, my heart was thumping, my knees were knocking together and my face was one of desperation.

I knew he would realise if I stole that particular medicine, but perhaps he wouldn’t notice if another one went missing? My hand reached out to snatch another cough medicine; it was a tiny thimble full in a glass dropper so I could easily hide it under my dress. He returned with the tattered apron, which I thanked him for. With perspiration blowing hungrily over my body, I raced back to Charles’ house.

When I returned, Cordelia immediately set upon the task of cutting the apron up with blunt dressmakers’ scissors. Mrs Beaumont desperately pressed them against her husband’s wounds.

“It was free of charge, Mrs Beaumont” I lied to her, handing her the bottle.

“Are you quite sure? And do call me Ida,” she fretted anxiously. I nodded fervently, hoping I was not blushing.

“Charles, fetch a cloth please,” Ida requested. The plain white cloth was wrapped around the tiny vial. The stopper was pulled out slowly so the liquid poured into Henry Beaumont’s mouth. Then, the most horrific screaming I’d ever heard came from his mouth. He thrashed about wildly, at our uttermost horror, the mixture seeping its poison through his body.

“Father, Father!” Charles cried, looking around helplessly.

“What’s happening Mummy, is he havin’ one of ‘is seizures ‘cos he’s diabetic?” Cordelia asked anxiously, sucking her thumb, her little body shaking with fear. Then I remembered the man had wondered if I had the money for a diabetic cough solution. I wrenched the slippery vial out of Ida’s trembling hands, the cloth falling to the floor. WARNING: NOT FOR PEOPLE WITH DIABETES.

We all stared at the bold, defiant writing in alarm.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t know he was diabetic!” I sobbed. But the apothecary did. It had been my choice to steal the medicine. The reason Henry Beaumont was shrieking in pain was because I had filled his body with a harmful liquid. Cordelia was, by now, bawling her eyes out, so I cuddled her desperately.

“Daddy won’t wake up,” she whispered, fresh salty tears dripping onto her angelic little face. Dread filled my body. I knew. I knew. I had the urge to scream and tear apart the world. The Beaumonts’ life was splitting into tiny cracks around me. I took in huge gasps of air, fighting the truth and the even worse horror that punched me straight in the face.

I looked over to the lifeless body of Charles’ dead father...