“You…” Catherine raised her hand. She was going to strike Margaret, and there was nothing Margaret could possibly do to avoid it.
Then there was a noise on the stairs. Someone was running, heavy footsteps heading this way.
“Out of my way!” a voice demanded.
“Theo…” Margaret whispered.
Catherine’s hand fell limp at her side.
Theodore shoved the man away again. He vaguely recognized him. The tall, hulking figure was one Theodore had seen hanging around his mother’s carriage at times when they had crossed paths. He presumed the man must have been in his mother’s service, though he may have done much more than just drive her cart.
Theodore thundered down the wine cellar steps.
He could remember coming down these steps as a child. No taller than his mother’s hip, he had been thrown down them once. He could remember now the sharp pain in his ribs as he had landed heavily on the flagstone floor.
His feet landed loudly on those stones now as he looked around the cellar.
Margaret was tied to a chair. His stomach ached when he saw the blood around her wrists, and how her ankles were even tied to the feet of the chair too. Catherine stood beside her, a cloak at her shoulders and a pelisse in her grasp. Her grey eyes didn’t blink as she stared back at him.
“Maggie –” Theodore barely got the word out before he heard the man’s footsteps behind him.
“Johnson, be careful!” Catherine warned the man.
Theodore didn’t need to turn to know what weapon was now being forced against the back of his head. He felt the barrel of the pistol into the base of his skull.
Margaret was in pure terror, her cheeks white, her eyes frantic.
“Don’t hurt him!” she shrieked. “Please!”
The safety catch was taken off the pistol.
I could die at any moment.
Something awful happened to Theodore. Was this to be his end? Dying in this awful wine cellar after all? So many times as a child had he feared this would be his last resting place. He wasn’t going to let that be his future now.
“I’m taking her away from you,” Catherine spat, moving between him and Margaret. Fortunately, Theodore was so tall, he could see over his mother’s head, and still look at Margaret.
She twisted her hand and winced. That’s when he caught the sight of blood dripping down her neck too.
She’s been struck!
“Maybe I couldn’t save myself from the devil, but I will save your wife from his spawn.” Catherine threw her arms in Theodore’s direction. He calmly looked over her head.
He had learned once in this room, long ago, that the way to hurt Catherine the most was to show her that she couldn’t hurt him.
“I tried to make you normal. I tried to drive out the evil from you, but I failed. I could not do it. God forgive me, I could not do it, but he sees all.” She seemed quite mad, turning in a circle as she thrust her finger back toward him. “He sees what you truly are!”
Still, he looked over her head at Margaret. The blood on her wrists was more evident now as she turned her hands back and forth, desperately trying to escape. Theodore wanted to run to her, but feared the moment he moved, Johnson would take his shot and he’d be dead.
“You didn’t even shed a tear when your father died. You saw the fire, and still, you didn’t cry. No humanity! No tears!”
She hadn’t cried either.
Theodore kept the thought to himself.
“You never smiled either. Emotion was alien to you!”
You never gave me a reason to smile.
