Finagled (16 page)

Ramona sat up in bed. She heard quiet voices outside of her room. One of them raised slightly. It was Andrew, she thought, the young boy’s voice sounded somewhat shrilly, and then, silence.

"Hello?" she called, from the bed. It was dark out, and the only light in her room came from the fireplace.

The door opened and she saw Andrew silhouetted in the doorway.

"Andrew?" she said, "I... did not expect you so late."

"Or at all?" he said.

"Perhaps not. Did you bring a light? I can barely see you."

"No. I did not bring a light." he paused, "this time."

There was a long silence.

"I... Andrew?" He was approaching the bed.

"God, I hate you," he said.

"Andrew..." her voice raised, "I don't understand."

"Why do you have to keep being so fucking... nice?" he spat on her.

"You’re scaring me, Andrew."

"Well good. Maybe if you get scared you'll stop being polite to me. It is really going to piss me off if you’re being nice to me when I’m in here trying to kill you."

"Oh my God," she said, "Andrew... what are you saying?"

"For fuck's sake, what does it sound like I am saying? You can't be that simple, seriously," his voice was high and angry. He sounded so young, it frightened her even more.

"Please don't do this," she said, "this... Do you want Loathewood? Is that it?" she asked, "I... I'm not a danger to that, Andrew, I never have been,"

"You think so? So you’re not pregnant right now? You will be. How could he resist this?" he pulled at her nightgown, the pearly buttons, whizzing about comically,  flew around the room as he ripped the gown open. Ramona tried to get away, but the pain in her legs made her cry out.

Her voice was still weak. She screamed in a raspy, rattling manner, and not for long before his hand was over her mouth.

Even if she hadn’t been injured, she probably wouldn’t have been able to fight him off. He was young, but already taller than she, and he spent his days doing boyish things, he was quick, and he was strong. Tears stung Ramona's eyes.

One hand over her mouth, he sat on top of her holding her down as he wrapped his other hand around her neck.

She heard a voice in the doorway. It sounded so distant, it was too dark to see who was there. A woman.

"You fool," she said. "What is this supposed to get us?'

Ramona passed out.

When she awoke, George was standing over her.

"Oh my God, oh," she rasped. "Oh thank God."

"You are okay?" he asked. "The doctor is coming. Does it hurt anywhere?"

"Oh, everywhere, God. Where is he?"

"I don't know." George said, quietly. "No one has seen him since, well, he knocked Henry out with a vase. What did he do to you?"

Ramona flushed, she realized her nightdress was torn, it had been opened before, but now she was covered. What did George think?

"He... he was choking me, he was on top of me," she gasped the words, quickly and without looking into George's eyes. "Someone came, stopped him. I think... I think it was Regina, I heard a woman, she said
What is this supposed to get us?
"

George's nostrils flared and he stood up. "God damn that little bitch," he said. "She's still here. She said she hasn't seen Andrew since this morning."

George's anger was terrifying. Ramona looked at his face, contorted as it was with hatred, and shivered.

"They will not get away with this. Ramona," he looked down at her. "I should not have let this stupid promise ruin your life. I have been such an idiot."

"George, I don't think... this isn't the time. You should go to Andrew, maybe..." Ramona searched for the right words.

"I will make it up to you, oh darling," he held her hands in his, but she could not look at him.

"I just want to rest now, George. I just want..."

"Of course, you must be exhausted. I'll take care of everything. I should have before."

He left her there, she watched the door after it closed behind him for a long time.

Tirinia and Lady Havishamble came later. Ramona had somehow managed to fall asleep, and when she awoke, they were there. It had started to snow. Tirinia remarked this from the window where she stood, watching it. It was already sticking, piling up.

"I wonder if he's out there, in this?" the older woman said with a scowl. "I was not watching well enough. But who would have thought he could overpower Henry at your door?"

"Henry was at my door?" Ramona asked.

"Oh yes, you silly girl, someone always was. Usually it was George. Now if it had been George... but I am sure he is beating himself up over that little detail himself without my adding to it. Suffice to say, I thought it was safe, Henry and George had you taken care of... I imagine the valet was just as surprised he was overtaken by that youth as any of us."

"What could be wrong with that boy?" Lady Havishamble asked, "Bad blood, I suppose. I hope none of it is from George's brother. That Regina seems to have plenty to spare, though."

"Indeed," Tirinia said.

Ramona felt hot. God. Andrew was George's son. What would her mother and Tirinia think if they knew? But they would never know. She sat quietly and then said, "I really... I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Of course, my dear," Tirinia said, "I shouldn't have troubled you with it. I thought... well... never mind what I thought. Let's talk about something pleasant. We shall still be here for Christmas. Ramona, is there anything you would like me to take care of for you? Have you arranged gifts for the servants?”

"Oh, yes... I had forgotten. I started some plans a month or so ago, but things have been so... out of sorts.  I don't even know… you see they were in the desk in my room, before the fire. I don't even know if... was anything else damaged? I hadn't even thought to ask."

"I took the liberty of having your things moved, there was mostly smoke damage to the things that weren’t stored, your lovely bed was ruined," Lady Havishamble said, "I do think the contents of your desk have been brought here..."

"I’ve gotten so behind on everything, I almost don’t know where to begin. I don’t think I can concentrate right now, though… with things the way they are,” Ramona leaning back on her pillow, and looked to the window.

"That’s understandable.” Tirinia said.”And you don't have to worry about anything, we’ll take care of the details, just work on healing, and be here for George whenever he returns."

George had gone to Regina's suite after he left Ramona. He paced outside of her room for a while, trying to get his anger in check. He was afraid that if she opened the door before he was prepared for it, he would knock her down on the spot. It wouldn't be very helpful, but it would feel damned good, so a little part of him hoped that she would hear him pacing. She didn't open the door.

He took a deep breath and pounded on the door.

Regina opened the door and gave him one of those smiles. The clever, knowing ones that she always seemed to have on hand. "Have you found Andrew?" she asked.

"No, I have not, but..." he said through his teeth, "I’m not looking for him at the moment, I’m looking for you."

"Oh yes, whatever for? I regret that I did not know Andrew quite as well as I should have, he did not discuss his favorite haunts with me. And the house, the estate, are so large, I really think that you are wasting valuable time here with me." she said coolly.

"What was it you said..." he began, "Oh yes,
What is this supposed to get us?
Do I have that right?"

She blanched slightly, but went on, "I don't know what you're talking about George, really I don't. I don’t even know if I believe that Andrew did anything wrong... I mean, what do you have, Henry's word? He's a servant, and goodness if Ramona hasn't been... on edge... and confused lately, she might have dreamed it. Really George, do you believe a servant and your little wife over the word of... your son, and his mother?"

George laughed. It was harsh and sudden and more terrifying to Regina than anything else he could have done. He was not going to fall for it again, not this time.

"Seriously, Regina," he said, "I am absolutely going to take the word of Henry, my valet of 15 years, and my little wife, who has been nothing but patient and kind and tried so hard to be understanding. You finagled my life so much that I thought I had to finagle hers. That's it, Regina. This is it. I'm done."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, "I've done nothing wrong. Kick me out, fine, I can play the martyred, widowed sister in-law. I know things, George, about you. I can tell the world that Andrew, who has turned out so terribly, is actually your son. Who would be surprised that your son, the son of
a rapist
," she smiled, "would turn out so poorly. Oh I will hate their pity, but I will take it, George, to ruin you, I would take it."

"You bitch," he said.

 "I have nothing left to lose, since our son turned out to be such a lousy sneak. I thought he might be a bit clever after he accidentally had me thrown off of that blasted horse, though he was aiming for Ramona of course. It was not a bad idea at all, for a child. We all thought she was pregnant, you know. The talk of it was all over the party. Everyone said so, and Andrew panicked. I didn't even have to prompt him, it was a beautiful thing, and made him a quick ally after all. But he was impatient. It had to be an accident, you know. Choking her to death was no good. Anyway, you can't prove I had anything to do with it."

George resisted the urge to slap the slimy grin off of Regina's face. He breathed steadily and silently and looked down at her. She was just as beautiful as she had ever been, but it had been a long time since he had looked at her with any appreciation to this fact.

When Malcolm had brought her into Loathewood as a guest, he had congratulated his brother on finding a wife with beauty and brains. She had talked Malcolm into a number of investments, and in the beginning, they were highly successful. She was amusing and clever. Her humor was occasionally at the expense of others, but George did not detect the true malice of her wit. When the young couple lost a large sum of money, George invited them to live at Loathewood until they could work their finances out. It seemed to him that Regina changed immediately. She took on the role of Mistress of Loathewood without leave, and the servants were immediately displeased with her. George could see it in the little changes, things that at first he did not pay much mind to. Mrs. Lopple finally came to him and said she could not stand it. If Regina was going to take over the household for him, that was well and good, but he was going to have to find another housekeeper because she could just not stand the woman.

George was completely taken aback. Of course Mrs. Lopple would stay. He would talk to Regina. It was not, at that moment, that Mrs. Lopple was more valuable to him than his brother's wife, but she was part of the house, he could not imagine a time without Mrs. Lopple, she had always been there. Regina was new, and, clearly,  needed to understand that Mrs. Lopple kept the house perfectly to George's tastes. If she wanted to make changes within the wing where they were living, she was welcome to it, but the rest of the house was the housekeeper's domain.

He didn’t understand that it is hard for a woman like Regina to share this responsibility with another. Regina was furious, but George talked her down. He could not imagine why she was acting as if this was the end of the world because it mattered so little to him. It was just a fact. Mrs. Lopple handled the household and Regina Flanders did not. You just have to live with some things, and this was one of them.