Read Online Midnight Rose by Patricia Hagan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patricia Hagan
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you know I’m going riding.”
Arlene made her voice light, “Oh, go ahead, dear, have a good time. Forgive me for not letting you in, but I’m in the middle of something.”
Erin, bemused by the locked door, lingered only an instant, for she was anxious to be on her way. Horseback riding was one of her few pleasures since coming back, especially since it took her away from the house—and Zachary.
Ben had her favorite horse bridled and waiting outside the stable. She suppressed a knowing smile over the secret that he and Letty were lovers. He tried not to appear shocked, as always, over the way she wore riding breeches, like a man, instead of a skirt, and rode bareback.
The day was hot, sun beating down on the fields of cotton and corn from a sky so deeply blue it appeared to touch the distant horizon in a solid mass. She set out on her favorite trail, which took her beyond the fields to the banks of the meandering stream that eventually fed into the James River. Her favorite spot was the site of the old mill. Zachary had closed it down some years ago, but the water was shallow there in one spot, if anyone wanted to ford to the other side. Beside the waterwheel and the tiny stone millhouse, there was a delightful pool for bathing on a terribly hot day. A graceful weeping willow tree stood sentry atop the grassy, sloping bank.
Erin didn’t feel like wading or bathing. She was in a somber mood, reflecting on how so many things had changed while she was away. It was as though an invisible pall had descended, oppressive and evil. Despite all Letty had dared to tell her, she’d already noticed how the other servants seemed subdued, moving about to do their chores with heads down, shoulders stooped, spirits broken. Even her mother had no real zest for living anymore, though she tried to put up a front. Erin noticed the shadow of misery in her eyes, the desolation and despair mirrored there when she thought no one was looking.
Dismounting, she looped her horse’s reins around a bush, then began to wander absently along the bank to the juncture at the river. Staring at the flowing current with envy, she thought how at least the river knew where it was going. She had no idea what the future held for her.
She was relieved that Zachary had more or less ignored her since she’d returned from Atlanta. Maybe his specialty was molesting children, she thought with a violent shudder of contempt and bitterness.
Never would she forget the terror and revulsion of that night when he’d sneaked into her room to crawl into her bed as she slept. She’d awakened in terror to feel his fingers probing between her legs, and when she’d tried to scream, he’d grabbed her around her throat and choked her till she started to lose consciousness, all the while being blasted by his whiskey breath as he whispered he’d kill her if she didn’t stop struggling, or dared to ever tell a soul. She’d had to lie there, fearing for her life, as he touched her, squeezed her, rubbed his ugly, swollen thing between her thighs till he’d made a lot of grunting noises. Afterwards, she’d felt nasty, defiled.
She hadn’t dared tell anyone, not even Letty, who sensed something was wrong. The next night, and all the nights after till she convinced her mother to let her go stay with her aunt, she had pushed furniture in front of the door, then hidden under the bed till morning.
Now that she was back, Erin no longer dragged furniture in front of the door, but she locked it, and she kept a kitchen knife hidden beneath her mattress. If he dared return to her bed, she was prepared to defend herself, to the death if need be.
Suddenly she was wrenched from the loathsome memories by the sound of a snapping twig in the woods just behind her.
A roll of panic assaulted at the thought that Zachary might have seen her ride out alone and followed her. She’d noticed his horse being rubbed down by another groom at the stable, so she knew he was back from
Arlene made her voice light, “Oh, go ahead, dear, have a good time. Forgive me for not letting you in, but I’m in the middle of something.”
Erin, bemused by the locked door, lingered only an instant, for she was anxious to be on her way. Horseback riding was one of her few pleasures since coming back, especially since it took her away from the house—and Zachary.
Ben had her favorite horse bridled and waiting outside the stable. She suppressed a knowing smile over the secret that he and Letty were lovers. He tried not to appear shocked, as always, over the way she wore riding breeches, like a man, instead of a skirt, and rode bareback.
The day was hot, sun beating down on the fields of cotton and corn from a sky so deeply blue it appeared to touch the distant horizon in a solid mass. She set out on her favorite trail, which took her beyond the fields to the banks of the meandering stream that eventually fed into the James River. Her favorite spot was the site of the old mill. Zachary had closed it down some years ago, but the water was shallow there in one spot, if anyone wanted to ford to the other side. Beside the waterwheel and the tiny stone millhouse, there was a delightful pool for bathing on a terribly hot day. A graceful weeping willow tree stood sentry atop the grassy, sloping bank.
Erin didn’t feel like wading or bathing. She was in a somber mood, reflecting on how so many things had changed while she was away. It was as though an invisible pall had descended, oppressive and evil. Despite all Letty had dared to tell her, she’d already noticed how the other servants seemed subdued, moving about to do their chores with heads down, shoulders stooped, spirits broken. Even her mother had no real zest for living anymore, though she tried to put up a front. Erin noticed the shadow of misery in her eyes, the desolation and despair mirrored there when she thought no one was looking.
Dismounting, she looped her horse’s reins around a bush, then began to wander absently along the bank to the juncture at the river. Staring at the flowing current with envy, she thought how at least the river knew where it was going. She had no idea what the future held for her.
She was relieved that Zachary had more or less ignored her since she’d returned from Atlanta. Maybe his specialty was molesting children, she thought with a violent shudder of contempt and bitterness.
Never would she forget the terror and revulsion of that night when he’d sneaked into her room to crawl into her bed as she slept. She’d awakened in terror to feel his fingers probing between her legs, and when she’d tried to scream, he’d grabbed her around her throat and choked her till she started to lose consciousness, all the while being blasted by his whiskey breath as he whispered he’d kill her if she didn’t stop struggling, or dared to ever tell a soul. She’d had to lie there, fearing for her life, as he touched her, squeezed her, rubbed his ugly, swollen thing between her thighs till he’d made a lot of grunting noises. Afterwards, she’d felt nasty, defiled.
She hadn’t dared tell anyone, not even Letty, who sensed something was wrong. The next night, and all the nights after till she convinced her mother to let her go stay with her aunt, she had pushed furniture in front of the door, then hidden under the bed till morning.
Now that she was back, Erin no longer dragged furniture in front of the door, but she locked it, and she kept a kitchen knife hidden beneath her mattress. If he dared return to her bed, she was prepared to defend herself, to the death if need be.
Suddenly she was wrenched from the loathsome memories by the sound of a snapping twig in the woods just behind her.
A roll of panic assaulted at the thought that Zachary might have seen her ride out alone and followed her. She’d noticed his horse being rubbed down by another groom at the stable, so she knew he was back from
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