CHAPTER 45 — A LITTLE BIT MORE

“She will be fine, hopefully, and if her wounds heal properly, so will the child.”

The words of the doctor echoed in Fiona’s ears as she hurried down the streets and to the apothecary. Her limbs trembled, desperation surging through her veins. She had nearly killed Lily; why wasn’t she dying?! She clasped her hands over her lips, swallowing a loud sob.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong, was she? Killing Lily would free Raymond. Raymond needed to be free, like she had needed to be free from her own marriage. He didn’t love Lily, like she hadn’t loved her husband. He remained for the sake of honor, like she had remained for the same reason. And just like her, death was going to set him free from his marital prison.

She would begin by killing the child. He didn’t want the child, and killing the unborn child would make him happy. Surely it would please him to be rid of it. Hadn’t he nearly lost his life because of his desperation to kill it?! She would help him this time, and he wouldn’t need to risk his life.

Perhaps the abortifacient would kill Lily, she thought, a smile settling on her face and displacing the frown as she entered the store and secretly purchased the medicine.

Hurrying back to the boarding house on foot, she entered Lily’s room to find a maid tending to her.

“Leave!” she called tersely, irritated. If her silly maids hadn’t been around to call for a doctor, perhaps Lily would be dead by now.

Crossing the room, she paused by Lily’s bedside to find her bruised, bleeding figure lying motionless on the bed.

She touched her head, brushing the sweat that beaded her skin away. A soft moan sounded in her throat as she blinked rapidly at Fiona’s touch.

Fiona took the cap off the vial. “Drink.”

Blood stained Lily’s sealed lips. Fiona reached forward and tried to pry them open, but they remained stubbornly shut.

Frustrated, she placed the bottle on the table by the bed and settled on the edge of the bed.

“You must drink, you must!” she hissed, noticing that Lily’s form became still once more.

Rising to her feet, she made her way out of the door, through the halls and down the stairs to her study. She found bottles of whiskey on the shelf and carried them up the stairs to Lily’s room, deciding she needed a drink to calm her racing heart.

She settled on a chair by the bedside and pulled the lid off the decanter bottle. She sat drinking until she could no longer tell what time it was. There were times Lily regained consciousness, moaning in pain and squirming in bed. Fiona found humor in those times. She laughed at the misery she saw in Lily. Then she cried. She cried about her own desperation, her own misery and her own grief.

Rising to her feet, she carried the abortifacient potion from the table to where Lily lay squirming. “You are awake now. Take this,” she touched her lips, “open your mouth, Lily, drink this!” Anger pumped through her veins. “It’ll kill the child. Raymond doesn’t want the child, and we mustn’t displease him.”

Would Lily dare to defy her instructions? She laughed sarcastically. Would she defy her by not drinking the potion, and by saving the child’s life? Very well, she wouldn’t force her then. She would not force her to drink anything.

She made her way across the room, laughing. Her knees trembled as she walked, her vision swimming. Going down the stairs proved difficult in her drunken state, her body crashing against the railings. She reached the foot of the stairs and turned in the direction of the kitchen. She pulled open the drawers and found a knife. Carrying it with her, she made her way back to Lily’s room.

It suddenly became difficult to breathe as she crossed the room to where Lily lay, with the knife dangling in her hands.

Surely, she was doing the right thing, wasn’t she?

She saw him then, lying limp before her with his eyes closed. She hated him for what he had done to her all of those years—for his brutality, for ruining her! She hadn’t thought it was possible that he would one day be struck down by the heavens and plagued with an illness that would slowly kill him.

Slowly...

The word mocked her. He was dying, but slowly. They would spend every dime of his large estate trying to save his life, and if by some stroke of good luck, he lived, she would remain in his prison. Hadn’t the doctor mentioned the possibility of regaining his health? It was in the hands of God, the doctor had said. She couldn’t let that happen. She shuddered, the glass shaking in her hands as she trembled—she couldn’t leave it in the hands of God.

She was doing the right thing, she mentally scolded herself as she leaned over him and tugged on his sleeves. Gray eyelashes lifted, revealing tired brown eyes. Those eyes had, only yesterday, been jaundiced, she panicked. God was turning against her and healing the man who tormented her. Even his skin seemed healthier, for the color was returning.

“F... F...” He touched her arm, her skin crawling at the feeling of his filthy hand against it. “Fiona.” His lips trembled as a weak smile formed. “I wronged you, Fiona.” The smile disappeared, a frown immediately taking its place. “Forgive me. I... I...” He sighed. “I fixed it... I... The reverend, he prayed... I chan...” He closed his eyes briefly and opened them again. “I changed my will; I want you to have everything. If I survive this, I want to make this right, to pay a penance for my soul.”

Fiona stared at the devil himself, anger pumping through her veins as she lifted the cup to his lips. “Drink.”

He stared at her, his eyes searching hers as his hand rested on her arm. “Poison, Fiona?”

His question startled her, but not as much as the action that followed. Lifting his head slightly, he drained the cup and settled back in bed.

“Forgive me, Fiona, forgive me...”

The knife threatened to drop to the floor, her trembling hands unable to keep a firm hold on it. She shook her head to shake the memory away and continued her walk across the room.

Taking Lily’s limp wrist in her hands gently, she ran the cold mental down the length of her arm.

“There is no forgiveness...” she recited to him as he fought to keep his eyes open. She watched the poison take effect in him, the memory fresh in her mind as she brought the knife to a halt on Lily’s wrist. “...For Satan.”

A loud knock followed. So loud, it knocked the air out of her lungs. Dumping the knife on the side table, she turned around. She crossed the room, determined to fire her maids. She didn’t need them anyway; they would just ruin everything. She unlocked the door and found a maid standing before her, brown eyes wide with confusion.

“Mr. McAllister...” the maid was saying, when Fiona shoved past her and ran down the stairs.

Raymond! Of course, he came back. He came for her; he wanted her. She opened the front door, a frown immediately settling on his face at the sight of her.

“Oh, Raymond!” She fell into his arms, kissing his cheek.

She gasped, falling back as he shoved her aside. Fighting to regain her footing, she held onto the table.

“Where is Lily?” He eyed her like a vile creature.

She smiled, smoothening her skirt. “I’m nearly finished with her, you must wait.”

“Take me to her, Fiona!”

“No... No, Raymond,” She giggled, her words slurring together. “She’s not ready yet. She refuses to rid herself of the child. She mustn’t displease you.”

He eyed her briefly, his eyes running down the length of her. Suddenly, something hard bumped against her and she jumped sideways. When she turned around, he was racing up the stairs.

She ran after him, barely able to keep up with his long legs. Her skirt and vision nearly made moving impossible, but she would not lose him.

The maid still stood by the open door as Raymond ran past her.

“What?!” He froze by Lily’s bedside.

“She’s not ready yet.” She grabbed his forearm, his muscles bulging under her grip.

He shrugged her off, flinging her against something hard as pain exploding in her head.

“What did you do?!” His angry voice caused her ears to ring.

Someone took hold of her hand, helping her to a sitting position. Smiling and expecting to find him by her side, she swore when she saw the maid.

“Get out!” She shrugged her off. Turning back to find Raymond lifting Lily’s limp form off the bed, she called, “She’s not...” A joyous laugh escaped her lips. “She’s not ready, Raymond,” She scrambled to her feet as he made to walk past her.

He turned eyes of steel to her. Shrinking back at the look in his eyes, she clutched her chest to still her pounding heart.

“Go to hell, Fiona,” He clenched his teeth. “Go to hell before I unleash a worse punishment on you, for the fires of hell would seem like ice next to what I will do.”

His words struck her as he crossed the room with Lily in his arms.

Hell? He wanted her in hell? Surely, he didn’t mean it. She shook her head, walking over to the bed and placing herself on it, where Lily’s unconscious body once lay. She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes, ragged breaths escaping her lips.

Would it please him if she went to hell? She turned to the table by the bedside and stared at the knife. Would he care if she was hurt? He had been furious to find Lily on this same spot, hurt. Perhaps she needed to be hurt like Lily. Would he care then, would he carry her in his arms?

Reaching for it, she pressed the blade to her wrist, a smile settling on her face as she watched blood drip down her wrist.

Perhaps she needed to please Raymond some more, she thought.

Just a little more...