her arms were drawn around the high
back of the chair. Catherine couldn’t see the woman's hands, but the tension in
her shoulders made it clear that they must be bound behind the back of the
chair. Coils of rope wound about her upper torso, anchored under her breasts,
pinning her back against the chair, and her ankles had been tightly knotted to
each of the chair legs.
The woman's black livery was
disarranged and stretched taut over her ample bosom by the bondage.
Catherine couldn't see Mrs. Williams’
mouth: some sort of scarf or muffler was drawn so tightly over it as to bring a
flush to the woman's face, but the bulge in her cheeks spoke of her mouth being
filled to aching capacity. Dark hair was tousled about her flushed face, and
her eyes were huge and pleading over the gag.
There was a muffled squeak that seemed
to be the closest that the gagged woman could come to a scream of warning. As
Philip pushed Catherine into the room, she was aware of a shadow looming up
from behind them, and her heart leapt at the sound of the voice that
accompanied it.
"Let her go, Philip... or there
will be a great deal of blood all over your expensive suit."
"Charles!" Philip's voice had
a squeak in it that Catherine had never heard before, as he turned, gaping
foolishly, to face his brother.
"Untie her, Philip." And for
a moment, Catherine once again saw the Charles Redmond from the painting: a
force not to be dreamed of arguing with. He seemed to tower over Philip, the
pistol in his hand unwavering.
"I..." Philip glanced over at
the bound figure of Mrs. Williams, but the housekeeper had nothing to offer
beyond gagged pleas for release. With what he hoped might be taken for a casual
shrug, he began to undo Catherine's bonds.
Once her hands were freed, Catherine
reached numb, aching arms to her face, pulled down the dustrag and yanked the
sodden napkin from her mouth.
"Oh, god." Catherine breathed
the oath through cracked lips as she took her first full breath of air since
the previous night. "Oh, Charles." The tone in her voice made it
clear that she gave not a tinker's dam who knew of her feelings for Charles.
Once his wife was freed, Philip stood,
looking foolishly at the gun in his brother's huge fist.
"Uh... Charles... surely we
can come to some arrangement..."
"You give me back what's mine, and
you can keep..." there was a strange silence in the room as Charles' voice
trailed off. He won't bargain me away , Catherine realized with a mixture
of exultation and horror. But... what else has he to offer? Philip’s life?
But surely he knows that Charles won’t kill him!?
Stalemate hung in the air, as the same
realization hit Charles. But Philip had no way of knowing the quandary that
burned in his brother's brain, no notion that Charles might be strong enough to
grant mercy even to him, and after a few more seconds of threatening silence,
his courage broke.
"Help!" Murder! Help!! "
Philip dropped to the floor, curling into a ball, covering his head with his
hands, and bawling at the top of his lungs.
"What?" For a moment, Charles
froze in astonishment, the gun seeming almost foolish in his grasp as he looked
down at Philip hiding behind his hands. "You miserable cur!" he
snapped. "Get up, damn you, if you're a man!"
But Philip simply continued wailing,
curled up into a fetal position on the floor.
Disgusted, Charles shook his head, and
nodded toward the pathetic sight.
"Catherine, get the book."
For a moment, she hesitated, not
wishing to get that close to her poor excuse for a husband. But, no-- there was
no danger here. Philip was a broken man, a coward, and would never threaten her
again.
She bent down, reached into Philip's
pocket and drew out the small leather volume.
She was turning it over in her hand
when Charles snapped. "Let's go, quickly now."
Go?! The exhausted girl thought as she turned to
Charles. I have
back of the chair. Catherine couldn’t see the woman's hands, but the tension in
her shoulders made it clear that they must be bound behind the back of the
chair. Coils of rope wound about her upper torso, anchored under her breasts,
pinning her back against the chair, and her ankles had been tightly knotted to
each of the chair legs.
The woman's black livery was
disarranged and stretched taut over her ample bosom by the bondage.
Catherine couldn't see Mrs. Williams’
mouth: some sort of scarf or muffler was drawn so tightly over it as to bring a
flush to the woman's face, but the bulge in her cheeks spoke of her mouth being
filled to aching capacity. Dark hair was tousled about her flushed face, and
her eyes were huge and pleading over the gag.
There was a muffled squeak that seemed
to be the closest that the gagged woman could come to a scream of warning. As
Philip pushed Catherine into the room, she was aware of a shadow looming up
from behind them, and her heart leapt at the sound of the voice that
accompanied it.
"Let her go, Philip... or there
will be a great deal of blood all over your expensive suit."
"Charles!" Philip's voice had
a squeak in it that Catherine had never heard before, as he turned, gaping
foolishly, to face his brother.
"Untie her, Philip." And for
a moment, Catherine once again saw the Charles Redmond from the painting: a
force not to be dreamed of arguing with. He seemed to tower over Philip, the
pistol in his hand unwavering.
"I..." Philip glanced over at
the bound figure of Mrs. Williams, but the housekeeper had nothing to offer
beyond gagged pleas for release. With what he hoped might be taken for a casual
shrug, he began to undo Catherine's bonds.
Once her hands were freed, Catherine
reached numb, aching arms to her face, pulled down the dustrag and yanked the
sodden napkin from her mouth.
"Oh, god." Catherine breathed
the oath through cracked lips as she took her first full breath of air since
the previous night. "Oh, Charles." The tone in her voice made it
clear that she gave not a tinker's dam who knew of her feelings for Charles.
Once his wife was freed, Philip stood,
looking foolishly at the gun in his brother's huge fist.
"Uh... Charles... surely we
can come to some arrangement..."
"You give me back what's mine, and
you can keep..." there was a strange silence in the room as Charles' voice
trailed off. He won't bargain me away , Catherine realized with a mixture
of exultation and horror. But... what else has he to offer? Philip’s life?
But surely he knows that Charles won’t kill him!?
Stalemate hung in the air, as the same
realization hit Charles. But Philip had no way of knowing the quandary that
burned in his brother's brain, no notion that Charles might be strong enough to
grant mercy even to him, and after a few more seconds of threatening silence,
his courage broke.
"Help!" Murder! Help!! "
Philip dropped to the floor, curling into a ball, covering his head with his
hands, and bawling at the top of his lungs.
"What?" For a moment, Charles
froze in astonishment, the gun seeming almost foolish in his grasp as he looked
down at Philip hiding behind his hands. "You miserable cur!" he
snapped. "Get up, damn you, if you're a man!"
But Philip simply continued wailing,
curled up into a fetal position on the floor.
Disgusted, Charles shook his head, and
nodded toward the pathetic sight.
"Catherine, get the book."
For a moment, she hesitated, not
wishing to get that close to her poor excuse for a husband. But, no-- there was
no danger here. Philip was a broken man, a coward, and would never threaten her
again.
She bent down, reached into Philip's
pocket and drew out the small leather volume.
She was turning it over in her hand
when Charles snapped. "Let's go, quickly now."
Go?! The exhausted girl thought as she turned to
Charles. I have
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