Heart of the Beholder

25

THANE STOOD FROZEN TO HIS spot and watched Bridgette’s hair bounce in the moonlight, wondering what kind of spell she had him under to make him feel so lost and so put together at the same time. Rocks crunched under Edgar’s steps as he joined Thane. “Dishes?” he asked.

Thane chuckled under his breath, then cleared his throat, not taking his eyes off Bridgette. “We may have broken a couple dishes, but before you get too upset, you should know it was well worth the loss,” Thane said, thinking about how close he had gotten to kissing her. “Well, almost,” he added, then sighed. “Tonight has been full of almosts.”

“Good to know my broken dishes were almost worth the cost, my lord,” the valet said in his level voice, but Thane knew he was jesting. “Should I start preparing for them to come to the manor?”

“I am not sure. I want to say yes, but I am afraid I am being too optimistic,” he said. Thane continued to watch Bridgette, she was almost to the cottage when she glanced back over her shoulder at him.

Horse hooves pounded on the road behind the carriage. Edgar left Thane’s side to greet the man, who had stopped his horse a little ways off. Thane looked over and recognized the man as one of the servants who had been at the manor to help Edgar. The man hopped down from his horse and talked to Edgar in hushed tones.

Thane looked back towards the cottage and was disappointed to see that Bridgette had already gone inside. He stared at the cottage and the flickering light in the windows. How was he supposed to leave? Would it be completely inappropriate to wait until morning when she left the cottage again? Edgar would never allow it.

Movement in the forest caught Thane’s attention. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he saw someone standing among the trees directly across the road from Bridgette’s cottage. The beast that was still deep inside of Thane growled as he quietly entered the trees to hunt down the threat. He ignored Edgar’s calls and focused on the location of his prey. The man gasped as Thane slammed him back against the trunk of a tree. He was young, well dressed, and wide-eyed as he looked at Thane. “Why are you here?” Thane growled. The man struggled to get away, but Thane’s grip on the front of his shirt was too tight. “Answer me.”

“Making sure she gets what she deserves,” he said through his teeth.

Thane pushed him off the ground and held him up by his neck. “What are you talking about?”

The man grabbed at his throat and wheezed. “No one…makes a fool out of me…without…consequences.”

Rage exploded all over Thane’s body, and the cowardly man squirmed in fear. “Jack,” Thane drawled. “I had hoped I would get the chance to cross paths with you.” Thane clenched his hand around Jack’s throat with extra strength from the curse, causing Jack’s face to start turning red.

A loud shattering of glass behind them made Thane drop Jack and whirled toward the cottage. It was on fire.

brIDGETTE LOOKED OVER HER SHOULDER to get one last glance of Lord Thornwood before she went inside. He was still there, standing tall down the road where she had left him. He seemed to get more handsome as time went on. She was a mess on the inside. There were so many things she needed to think about and decide. Her mind and her heart were being pulled in different directions. It was going to be a long night and day and night before she saw his face again.

Bridgette smiled to herself as she turned the doorknob and entered the cottage. By the time the door clicked closed, her smile was gone. Something felt wrong. Smelled wrong. It was the same smell that had made her fall apart at the ball. How had it followed her home? She smelled the sleeves of her dress, but it didn’t smell like ale.

Something rattled on the other side of the small section of wall that separated the entryway from the kitchen. She heard the cupboard open and close, then dishes clank together. Chills spread over her body as she realized someone was in her house, going through her things. She could easily go back out the door and see if Lord Thornwood was still there, but she could see her mother’s door wide open, and Birdie was nowhere in sight. Maybe it was Birdie who was rifling through the kitchen? But where would that smell be coming from?

Bridgette stepped around the wall and froze. A large man was bent over and grumbling as he searched her small food supply. “I am going to have to ask you to leave my residence at once.” She tried to make her voice loud and strong, but there was a small waver.

The man stopped what he was doing and stood. His head was only a few inches shorter than the ceiling. He stumbled a bit as he turned around, but the moment Bridgette saw his face, she stepped back in horror. Half of the man’s face was deformed in what looked like a very bad burn that stretched down under his shirt, came out under his sleeve, and down one arm, all the way to his fingers. The other half of the man’s face, that was not burned, was engraved in every terrible memory she had.

“Papa?” she said, completely stunned.

“It's about time you got home, you little wench,” he slurred. “Where is the alcohol?” He turned back around and kept searching. Bridgette’s whole body shook violently. She looked over at her mother’s opened door and prayed she was okay. Where was Birdie? “I asked you a question, girl.”

“I-I-I do not keep alcohol in my home,” she said with a shaky voice. She took several quiet steps around the sofa and toward the bedroom.

“Fool girl,” he said. “Why can’t you be useful?”

Bridgette peered into the bedroom. Her mother was lying in her bed as usual, and after a moment, her chest rose and fell. A small pang of relief turned into anger as Bridgette turned back to her father whom she’d thought dead. “You need to leave, now.”

“That is no way to treat your father,” he said, turning to face her. Despite the fire in the little stove, Bridgette’s body felt ice cold. But she would not run, she had to stay to protect her mother. He took a step toward her and everything inside screamed at her to flee. “Have you forgotten how to respect me?”

“No, I just learned the difference between someone who deserves respect and someone who does not.”

“You better watch that mouth with me,” he spat and swung for her. Bridgette ducked and ran around him to the stove. She needed to defend herself, and the only thing she could think of was fire, the very thing she thought had killed her father. He grumbled in frustration as he stumbled back around to face her. Bridgette grabbed a stick from the small pile by the stove and stuck the tip in the flames.

“How did you find me?”

Her father scoffed. “Seems you displease every man in the kingdom. One sought me out to tell me what trouble you were getting into.” He stepped toward her, and she pulled out her stick, now on fire.

“Who found you?”

“Jack,” he said with a crooked grin. “Thank goodness for him, because the whole house is ruined and the land is dead. I was almost as good as dead, thanks to you,” his voice boomed. “My ungrateful curse of a daughter left me for dead and ruin. You! You did this to me!”

He came quickly at her, but she brought the fire stick before her. It made him pause, but only for a second. He gripped the end of the flaming stick and threw it to the side. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her back against the wall. “It’s time I finally teach you a lesson you will never forget.” His hand closed around her throat, and Bridgette gasped. She felt around, but couldn’t find anything, so she started to kick. She kicked to the side and found one of the kitchen chairs. Bridgette swung her leg over and hooked her ankle around one of the chair legs, then kicked with all of her strength. The chair flew up, and the back of it hit her father in the throat. He let go of her and stumbled back. He grabbed onto the cupboard and ripped it off the wall as he fell. The few dishes she had shattered on the floor. Bridgette grabbed at her sore neck and started coughing. There was smoke in the air. The sofa she slept on was on fire.

“Mama!” she yelled and ran to the bedroom. Bridgette put her arms under the frail woman and lifted. Clara wasn’t very heavy, but Bridgette wasn’t very strong. She had always had Doc’s help when she had to move her mother. Where in the world was Birdie? Bridgette set Clara back on the bed with a grunt, then took one of the blankets and laid it on the ground. If she got her mother onto the blanket, she could drag her out before the cottage burned down. When the blanket was in place, something grabbed Bridgette’s ankle and pulled her to the floor. Her father stood and dragged her by the foot out of the bedroom. She tried to grab onto the door frame, but couldn’t find purchase. “No!” she screamed. “No!” The fire had taken over the kitchen, and smoke was filling the whole cottage. Her father seemed not to care about or even notice the fire and grabbed her by the forearms to yank her to her feet. Bridgette coughed as her lungs filled with smoke.

“Look at me, wench,” he said as he shook her, then slapped her across the face. Her skin burned, but she refused to cry. He pulled his arm back as if to slap her again, but the front door exploded off its hinges; her father was grabbed and thrown across the room into the fire. Bridgette covered her mouth to muffle the cry of relief as she realized it was Lord Thornwood who had come. His expression was dark as he grabbed her father again by the collar and threw him onto the little table, which broke under the weight.

Bridgette ran back to the bedroom, lifted her mother off the bed and clumsily set her on the blanket. She clenched her teeth as she pulled the blanket and her mother out of the bedroom. There was a loud crack, and a beam from the roof crashed on the sofa, barely missing Bridgette’s head. She cried out in frustration when she realized the flaming beam was blocking her route to the front door. The smoke must have been affecting her mind, because she forgot about the back door until it opened and Doc appeared. He rushed over to them as the commotion between Lord Thornwood and her father continued. Doc carried Clara out of the cottage easily. Bridgette ran after them and gulped down the fresh, cold air. She followed Doc around the cottage to the safety of the road. Bridgette felt her heart leap to her throat as she watched Lord Thornwood drag her father’s limp body out the front door and into the trees behind the cottage. Her heart then fell to her stomach. “Birdie?” she yelled. “Birdie?” She looked over to Birdie’s cottage, but all was silent and still. “Birdie!”

“Bridgeet!” The call came from inside the burning cottage. Bridgette ran back in, ignoring Doc yelling at her to stay.

“Birdie! I’m here!”

“Bridgeet!”

Bridgette opened the closet door and found a very frightened Birdie inside. Bridgette grabbed one of the woman’s hands and pulled, but she wouldn’t budge. The boards above them creaked. “Birdie, we need to get out. The whole cottage is about to collapse. Doc got my mother out. Now we need to get out.”

Birdie shook her head. “B-b-bad man.”

Bridgette’s heart ached. “He is gone; you are safe.”

Bridgette caught movement in her peripheral vision and jumped in front of Birdie defensively. She almost fainted in relief when she realized it was Edgar. “She is too scared to leave the closet,” Bridgette explained over the loud crackling of the fire.

Edgar nodded and turned to Birdie. “Miss Birdie, may I please escort you away from danger? You may come sit in the carriage if it will help.”

Birdie nodded enthusiastically and grabbed onto Edgar’s arm. As soon as all three of them were out of the cottage, the whole roof caved in. Edgar took Birdie straight to the carriage which he must have inconspicuously moved closer during the turmoil. Once Birdie was safely inside, Edgar walked over to Doc, who was still holding Bridgette’s mother.

Seeing that everyone else was taken care of, Bridgette bolted into the trees behind the burning cottage. “Leander?” she called as she ran. “Leander!” She tripped over a rock, but quickly got to her feet and kept moving. She could see something white reflecting the light from the flames. As she got closer, she was able to make out her father’s large body sprawled on the ground, and Lord Thornwood kneeling over him with his head hung. Chills ran up her spine as she saw the deep gashes in her father’s chest, his shirt sticking to his skin with blood. His chest was not moving. “Is he…?”

Lord Thornwood’s whole body shook. His vest and shirt were ripped and smudged with ash, and his hands were covered in blood. He tilted his head up. Bridgette realized the mask was gone, but there wasn’t enough light to see anything. His once perfectly placed hair now fell down to cover part of his face. “Bridgette, I am so sorry,” he groaned mournfully.

She wanted to approach him, and hold him, and tell him it was alright, but she couldn’t move. Everything that had just happened was starting to creep up on her and choke her like her father had. She coughed into her hand, and when she pulled it away, she noticed some shiny red blood.

“Bridgette, get away from him!” Doc jumped between her and Lord Thornwood.

“No, wait,” Bridgette said, finally finding the ability to move. “Leander.” She tried to step around Doc, but he stepped in her way.

“Bridgette, walk away. I will not let you be near this monster.”

“He is not a monster,” Bridgette snapped in Doc’s face. “The man on the ground, who is dead, he was the monster.”

“The man on the ground is dead because of the monster who is still alive.”

“He saved my life,” she sobbed, trying and failing again to get around him.

“Go with him, Bridgette,” Lord Thornwood said in a raspy voice.

“The butler has offered to take us to my home.” Doc looked over his shoulder at Lord Thornwood and ordered, “You will not come to call on her.”

“No,” Bridgette argued.

“Bridgette, go with him. It is for the best,” Lord Thornwood said, his posture crestfallen.

“No!” She took a step forward, but Doc wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her away. “Let me go! I will not leave him! No! Leander!” she cried. No matter how much she screamed and fought, Doc did not relent. He pulled her all the way to the carriage. A solemn-looking Edgar opened the door for them. Doc finally let go, but she did not get in the carriage.

“Get in the carriage, Bridgette,” Doc said calmly.

“No,” she said firmly. “Edgar, tell him Lord Thornwood is not a monster. Tell him.” Edgar said nothing. She looked up at the man, who looked back at her with pity.

“I think it is best that you get in the carriage, my lady.”

It felt like a betrayal. It disgusted her to the point that she let them lead her into the carriage without a fight. She sat down on the bench next to Birdie. Doc sat on the other bench where her mother was hunched over, wrapped in a blanket. The door closed, and a moment later, the carriage started to move forward.

Bridgette stared stone-faced out the window, not wanting to look at Doc. “You are in shock. With good rest and a warm meal, you should start to feel better.”

“You took me away from what would have made me feel better,” she mumbled under her breath.

“He is a danger to you, Bridgette. Did you not see the wounds in your father’s chest? It reminds me of patients I have treated after a bear attack, and there was no bear around. Did you not look at Lord Thornwood himself? The feral look in his eyes. I know it was dark, but I could have sworn on my life I saw black claws and horns. A demon.”

Bridgette looked at the doctor, bewildered. “You are wrong. You are just listening to the rumors about him.”

“I know what I saw, Bridgette,” he said in the tone he used when trying to calm down a patient.

“Well, I know what I saw: a man who saved me. A man who is haunted by the things he has done, and now, will cave in on himself because he will think he is just as bad, if not worse, than what he used to be. I could have helped him, but you took me away.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and tears started to fall down her cheeks. She coughed. Her lungs and throat burned, and her neck throbbed. The adrenaline that had kept her going was fading, and her whole body felt sore. The tears came even faster when she noticed the burns and tears in the beautiful dress Lord Thornwood had given her. She wrapped her arms around her middle and shook her head. A dream had turned into a nightmare.

There was a tap on her shoulder. Bridgette looked, and Birdie held out a blanket to her. Bridgette gave her friend a sad smile and took her offering. It was not a blanket; it was her burgundy cloak, which was also given to her by Lord Thornwood. Bridgette had failed to notice Birdie wearing it while Edgar got her out of the burning cottage. Bridgette lifted the cloak to her face and breathed in deeply. There was still a faint hint of old books and paint beneath the stench of smoke. She wrapped herself in its warmth and cried the rest of the ride.

THANE DID NOT WAIT FOR Edgar to come back. He had to leave because villagers had come with buckets of water to put out the flames. He was disgusted with himself. Bridgette had worried because she had left her father to die. He apparently hadn’t been dead, but now he was. Thane could only figure that the animalistic part of the curse was unleashed when he’d found Jack, and he could not hold back when he’d seen Bridgette clutched in the hands of her abuser.

He had killed a man with his own hands. He had killed her father.

Thane trudged up the front steps of the manor and entered through the front door. The house was empty and spotless, since the servants had cleaned up and left. His feet took him up the stairs and to his study. He sat down heavily into his usual chair in front of his chessboard. He didn’t know how long he stared at the black king with a broken crown before Edgar joined him.

“My lord,” he began.

“If you are going to try to fill me with hope that she will forgive and return and all will be well, don’t bother.”

“I actually came to give you more bad news, my lord.”

Thane looked up at his valet. “What news? Did that servant who came on horse give it to you?”

Edgar nodded once, but didn’t say anything. He reached into his vest and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Mr. Longbrush works for the Silverspoon family. Bridgette used to work at the Golden Pear with their daughter, Alice. Apparently, Alice is being courted by a mysterious suitor. The suitor gave this letter to Mr. Longbrush when he arrived back at the Silverspoon Estate after helping here tonight and was instructed to deliver it to you.” Dread curled up at the bottom of Thane’s stomach as he took the letter from Edgar. “The seal is broken, because I wanted to see how dire the situation was and if immediate action needed to take place.”

Thane opened the unaddressed letter and read.

Brother,

It has been a good several months of hunting you down, but I have finally located your hiding spot. Do not be upset; you knew you could not outrun me forever. You have something I want and need. I will be stopping by tomorrow for a little visit. It will be up to you whether it is a pleasant or unpleasant reunion.

–V

The paper crumpled in Thane’s fist. He had already been feeling defeated, but now all the hope he had gained in the past few weeks was gone, ripped out from under him. “She can never return.”

“I agree, my lord. If she does plan on returning, she will not come until the day after tomorrow. I can take her the bag of coins tomorrow morning and tell her her services are no longer needed, then we can be on our way. It will be a lot easier to escape with the carriage.”

“I am done running,” Thane said.

“But, my lord,” Edgar protested.

“He will never stop until he has me. We need to end this,” Thane said. “I probably will not survive the visit from my brother, so I want you to go somewhere else after you take Bridgette the coins. Live a life you have always wanted, Edgar. You deserve it.”

“I promised your mother you would never be alone. I will be here until the end, my lord.”

Thane didn’t protest. He didn’t want to be alone. At least he would have peace knowing Bridgette would not be with him. He would not take that risk, because if there was one thing Vincent loved to do, it was to destroy anything and everything Thane cared for.