"I told her once I wasn't good at anything. She told me survival is a talent." Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted

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Chapter Twenty

George had been startlingly pleasant to Faith upon her return. He had sent Ruth and Olivia away to welcome her home. That was all he had said.

But Faith could sense his displeasure, his anger. Her actions were humiliating to him. Of course, the hospital story would be believed by the public, George would see to that. But in private?

Faith was certain that the shock had prevented his true ire.

George was not the sort of man to allow a woman's disobedience.

It was odd moving back into the routine she had once kept. Three and a half years and things were suddenly just the same as they always were. George kept to himself as Ruth chaperoned Faith, not so subtly ensuring that she did not run away again.

Faith's bedroom was unchanged. Clearly there had been no other woman staying. Everything she had left behind was still neatly folded in her wardrobe. Her scent bottles were all still perfectly aligned on her dressing table. The jewellery pieces she had left on purpose so as not to attract suspicion were all still where she had left them, strewn casually atop her table.

But everything was not the same. Faith would not allow it. She would not allow her daughter to grow up in a world where her mother sat down and simply let atrocious things happen to her.

That night, Faith's eyes shot open at the all too familiar squeak of her bedroom door.

It was not a loud squeak at all. It was not a squeak that warranted attention due to the annoyance. It was a slight, barely audible creak.

But to Faith, it had always been as loud as a church bell, alerting her to the opening of her door. And there was only ever one person who frequented her bedroom at all hours of the night.

Her heart started to hammer in her chest as her grip tightened on the bedclothes.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

The wooden floorboards shifted beneath the intruder's feet, screaming a warning.

The hairs on the back of Faith's neck stood up as the squeaking stopped, indicating that the intruder was now standing on the rug.

He was standing right behind her.

"I am sleeping," Faith murmured into her pillow. It took all the strength she had not to stammer.

"Well, I am awake," retorted George firmly.

His voice sent a shiver down her spine as Faith bit down on her bottom lip. This night would not end how George was planning. Absolutely not.

Faith screamed as her hair was pulled from behind. George had grabbed a fistful of her hair and had yanked her so that she was on her back and facing him. The safe cocoon of her bedclothes were then pulled away from her, leaving her feeling very exposed in her old nightdress.

It was dark, and Faith could only faintly see the outline of George's body.

"Quiet, dear. We do not want to wake the servants," George sneered as he seized Faith's wrists and wrapped his large hand around them both. He held her hands above her head. "Speaking of," he continued as he climbed onto the bed. His weight dipped the mattress and Faith involuntarily turned towards him. "I had an interesting discussion with a friend of yours today. Mr Carne."

Faith gasped as the blood drained from her face.

"Oh, yes. He told me everything."

Everything? Mr Carne had never known of Faith's pregnancy. Faith had never spoken of it directly, but had he known? Did George know that there was a child somewhere?

"He told me all about your plan to fake your death, how he took you to Kent, and how you planned on going to London," George mocked.

Faith resisted sighing with relief. No mention of Lucy. She thanked God. Her focus returned to her struggle to free her wrists. She writhed but George would not relent.

"He is lucky that his actions only cost him his job."

Oh, poor Mr Carne!

"Did you really expect that you could leave forever?"

"Clearly I was unsuccessful," Faith snapped.

"Listen to you. You have become common." He laughed. "Now, for your punishment," he began. Using his free hand, Faith heard the sound of his belt buckle unfastening. It was quickly discarded.

"No, I do not think so," Faith said firmly as she tried to pull her hands free again.

George laughed again. Even though she could not see him, she felt his close proximity. The bile rose in her throat. The mattress moved as his weight shifted to hover over her. "Oh, dear Anne. You forget yourself. You have denied me three years of my conjugal rights. Just lay still."

But Faith was not afraid. How many times had she been in this position? Subjected to her husband's brutality because she had naively promised to obey him on her wedding day. She was strong. She survived. She would not allow him to take advantage of her anymore.

"No," Faith said again, giving him one last chance.

She did not see it, but she felt it. The cruel sting that his hand left upon her cheek only made her angrier.

"I am no longer the type of woman to just lie here, George," Faith snapped as she brought her knee up to her chest and aimed. She drove her foot into the general direction of his groin and prayed that her aim was true.

George immediately released Faith's wrists as he leapt off the bed, crying and cursing, shouting profanities.

Faith immediately turned up the flame in her lamp and her bedroom illuminated. Her husband, the man she had always feared, was curled up on the floor, cupping his manhood like a child. "You dare to touch me again and I will cut it off," she threatened darkly.

His grey eyes flew to Faith's, testing her. "You would not have the gall," he spluttered.

Faith did not break. She smiled. "Shall we see?" she said calmly, extending her hand to him.

George stared at her hand as though it were poisoned. He made no move to test her. "You ... you devil woman!" he exclaimed, his voice still riddled with pain. George ungracefully climbed to his feet and stumbled out of Faith's bedroom.

Faith climbed back into bed and smiled in her misery. She stared at the canopy above her and prayed that her daughter was sleeping soundly in her bed in London. "Mama is going to make you proud, Lucy. I promise."

***

George avoided Faith like the plague the next day. The man was used to snapping his fingers and having whatever he wanted. He had never before been challenged like he had been the night before.

Faith knew her victory would be short lived. George was cautious of her, but his fear would soon be replaced with rage and resentment. Faith knew that the previous night's visit would not be the last, no matter her threats.

Ruth had launched into planning a ball to celebrate Faith's return, and Olivia had made herself scarce while they all awaited the arrival of George's brother, John, from his parish.

Faith used this time alone to wander down to the lake. It was a miracle that she was not followed, though she would never allow herself to be seen there. As she came closer and closer to the lake, she felt the overwhelming sadness that was always there, buried deep in her heart.

She felt the pain, as fresh as it had been five years ago, as she approached the place where her tiny boy was buried.

The spring flowers were not out yet. The weather was still far too wintery. But it was peaceful. The water was still and the long grass had frozen dew drops clinging to the blades.

When she came to the spot, a loud sob escaped her throat. The earth was bare, but that was only because the bulbs had not flowered yet. In springtime, daffodils would bloom all around him.

Faith knelt down and placed her palms in the earth, right above him. She pressed her fingers into the soft ground and closed her eyes. For what purpose, she did not know. But it felt right to be here, to sit with him, to be close to him, and to just breathe. Breathe for him. Breathe for both her children.

Sky would have been five in March. What would that have been like? To have a five year old little boy? An older brother for Lucy?

"Mama!"

Faith laughed. For a moment she could have sworn she heard Lucy's voice.

Faith suddenly sat bolt upright when she realised that she had not imagined Lucy's voice. She wiped her eyes free from tears so that her vision was not clouded.

Was she hallucinating?

Lucy had emerged from the wilderness that accompanied the Runthorpe estate, followed closely by Cassian. Lucy trotted happily, wearing her thick travelling clothes. Her curly hair was fixed poorly in ribbons.

Cassian wore a stern expression as he looked around, but they were alone. It was only the four of them.

Faith's heart leapt with a brief moment of pure happiness as she saw the two people she loved most in the world. Lucy tore through the long grass, stumbling as he went, crying out Faith's name.

"Mama!" she cried as she came closer. Moments later, Lucy threw herself into Faith's arms.

Faith nearly crushed her daughter as she held Lucy so tightly to her chest. Had it only been a few days? She pressed her face into her hair, committing Lucy's scent to memory. She brushed her hands over Lucy's face, memorising every little freckle.

"I thought you would be here."

Faith looked up at Cassian knowingly. His dark eyes were sad. He knew the reason she was here. He knew what this place was to her.

Cassian dropped to his feet as his stern façade melted away. He enveloped Faith and Lucy in his long arms. Had her bedclothes been a cocoon the night before? They could not beat the safety of Cassian's embrace. Faith rested her head on Cassian's chest and listened to his heart as it beat rapidly in his chest. She felt him press his lips into her hair.

A moment's serenity was quickly clouded by the danger in their presence. "What are you doing here?" Faith suddenly asked.

"What else do you think? We are here to rescue you," Cassian said simply, caressing her cheek, which was still sensitive from George's strike the night before.

Rescue. How brilliant. How fanciful. How impossible.

Faith stared down at Lucy in her arms. Lucy was standing on the grounds of her father's estate. Lucy was standing on the ground in which her brother was buried. Lucy was standing where she, too, would have been buried had Faith lost her the same way.

That thought made Faith want to vomit violently.

"How could you bring her here?" Faith asked accusingly. "She was safe in London!"

"But you were not safe here," Cassian retorted. "Come. Now. I have a carriage waiting just a mile through those trees on the road," he urged. "I have a sanctuary for you. For all of us."

A sanctuary? How could she possibly be safe anymore? Knowing Ruth and her powers of gossip, the news that Anne Pendleton was alive had probably crossed the Atlantic. Anyone and everyone would know her and be talking about her. Her portrait would be printed again, just like it was the first time.

"Do you trust me?"

Cassian's question caught a troubled Faith off guard.

"Of course," she breathed.

"You had faith in me once. Have faith in me again," he said sincerely, helping Faith to her feet. "I will keep you and Lucy safe for the rest of your lives."

Faith believed him. She could feel his truth. And he was right. She had faith in him. She would always have faith in him. He would keep them safe.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a cocking pistol. Both Faith and Cassian spun around to see George, who had appeared suddenly, holding a loaded pistol.

The pistol was not pointed at Faith or Cassian. It was pointed at Lucy.

"A bastard child?" George was turning red, his body was shaking as his finger rested on the trigger of the weapon aimed at Faith's child.

Faith screamed an unholy noise as she threw her body on top of Lucy. Lucy was tackled to the ground, and had started to cry, but Faith did not care, so long as she was the one in the way of the bullet.

George believed that Lucy was Cassian's child.

"You!" exclaimed George irately, his pistol moving to Cassian. Cassian raised his arms as he casually stepped in front of Faith and Lucy who were lying on the ground.

"Do not make any hasty decisions, sir," Cassian said calmly. "The law still applies to gentlemen."

"Gentlemen?" The word seemed to strike a chord with George. "You are right. There is only one way to kill you as a gentleman. I challenge you to a duel," he spat, throwing his handkerchief down on the ground at Cassian's feet.

Faith's eyes widened in terror. A duel? Oh, good God! No, Cassian, she willed. Do not pick up that handkerchief! Do not accept the challenge! Go now with Lucy and do not come back!

"When I win, Faith comes with me," Cassian said darkly as he bent down to pick up the handkerchief, accepting the challenge.

"When I win, your whore will never leave my bed, and you and your bastard will share a coffin," sneered George. "Dawn, tomorrow."

Cassian twitched at George's evil words. "Dawn then," agreed Cassian.

Okay, moving on :P Victoria starts soon so I'll soon be filling my author's notes with rants about that hehe.

And I've been seeing in the comments on the last few chapters about your theories for the next book. I can confirm I have thoroughly planned the next book - it is called "Have Hope". It will feature Kit. But his love interest is not Lucy!! Lucy is 3 haha. Kit is 14 nearly 15. Maybe there's another girl I've mentioned that might be his love interest? I can't wait to write more of her character, and his. I have the best "meeting" scene planned for them in the next book.