Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“She hurt her?”
“She called it reflection time,” he sneered, shaking his head. “Whenever she believed Verity had misbehaved, she would lock her away in a wardrobe or cabinet. She would leave her for hours in absolute darkness. No water. No food. This tight, dark hell would be her punishment should Verity even laugh out loud. And if Verity called for help, Datura would leave her in there longer. My father, the bastard, never did a thing to help his daughter. She did this to her over and over again. Verity stopped eating and speaking. Personally, I believed the girl did not even dare to grow taller. And if that were not enough, Datura taunted her and blamed her for being punished.”
“Dear God,” I whispered, sitting closer to him. “How long did this go on?”
“Years. And it would have continued with no one the wiser had it not been for your mother.”
“My mama?”
He nodded. “How she knew was beyond me. I have not the heart to ask. But one day, she arrived, not only with your father but also an old family friend who happened to be the local magistrate, pretending as though they had been invited for lunch. My father, never wishing to look the fool and believing Datura to be at fault for not remembering, agreed to the lunch. Your mother asked for Verity, as she had gifts. Datura had forgotten she’d locked Verity away. When she called for her at your mother’s request, Datura lied and said Verity was sleeping. Your mother said she would visit her room. So Datura sought to have her brought, but your mother refused and insisted on walking to Verity’s room. When she could not find Verity in her rooms, nor could anyone find her, your mother began to scream and weep, saying that they had killed her.”
“Scream and weep?” I repeated, eyebrow raised. “My mama can scream. Weeping, however, is not her forte.”
“That day, she did. Everyone’s account of it was the same. She even collapsed in grief.” A slight smile appeared on his face even as his eyes filled with tears he had not let fall. “And thank God she had, for the entire house was then alarmed. A whole search was mounted to find Verity and prove to your mother that Verity was not dead. After another hour, she was found in the cabinet. My father lied to the magistrate and said she must have locked herself inside while playing. That settled everyone but your mother, who started to wonder why Verity was so thin, and then she remarked about the scratches inside the cabinet. The more attention brought, the more everyone began to wonder, especially the magistrate. He asked to speak with Verity without my father or Datura in the room.”
“Did Verity explain what had happened to her?”
“She was young and traumatized, so she could not speak well. Thus, the magistrate could do nothing, as there was not much evidence. Soon after that, there was much talk, regarding my father’s anger. To prove it all untrue, he hired several nannies and a governess to take care of Verity and forbade Datura from ever interfering with her. Datura was not even allowed in the same wing of the house as Verity. And your mother showed up unannounced several more times just in case. Verity was never forced to submit to Datura again, and she grew happier and healthier. Still, the ordeal left her mentally scarred, especially when it becomes dark and she is alone.”
Verity’s pleas replayed in my head. “Datura is a vile creature.”
“More than you know.” He shook his head. “There are no portraits of my mother because Datura had them burned, by accident she claimed, though how all my mother’s portraits ended up in one room that would later catch fire is beyond comprehension or reason. All that remained of my mother was a sketch. With that sketch I had many artists attempt to create new work. But none could truly capture her except Sir Cowles. Sadly, he passed before he could paint more of her. I felt it a sort of curse. Though I am grateful to, at least, have something. For Verity’s sake as well.”
“Your father allowed all of this to occur?” That was the most perplexing piece of all of this. Was this not his family? His children? Was it not his duty to protect them at the very least?
“My father cared not,” he replied bitterly. “The only important thing in his life was himself. He wished to have the butcher’s daughter, and so he had her. He wished to marry the very best noble lady of society, thus, he did. He refused moderation or even decency, deceiving my mother into marrying him with no remorse or care. Only exposing the truth to her after he had gotten what he wanted—a legitimate heir. Once he had that, he cared not where she was, what she did, or even if she lived or died. There were days I believed he was pleased she was dead, as he no longer had to keep up with the pretense of their lives together. Do you wish to know what he said the day we returned from a trip to London, after my mother had just passed? Verity not even a week old and brought to him for the first time?”