Chapter 68
"Lady Florence," came Dr. Braly's hushed voice as she entered my chamber, shutting the door behind her with the soft click of a lock. I lifted my gaze from where I sat by the window, my fingers idly tracing patterns against the cold glass. She moved swiftly, pulling a rolled parchment from beneath the folds of her skirt before approaching me with an urgency that piqued my curiosity.
"Look," she whispered, unfurling the parchment upon the table before me.
I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I studied the lines and markings upon the paper. A map. I tilted my head, my suspicion sharpening. Why, of all things, was she showing me this?
Dr. Braly lowered herself onto her knees beside me, her finger pressing against a particular point on the map. "Here," she murmured, glancing toward the door as if fearful of eavesdropping ears. "This is where the cottage stands. Here is the door leading outside. If you go straight from there, it is a walk of twenty, perhaps thirty minutes, to the main road. There are no paths, no roads, only wilderness. It is easy to lose one's way if unfamiliar with the terrain, so you must keep straight."
Her finger traced the route with careful precision, and my eye followed.
"I will go with you, of course," she continued. "But I am telling you this in case something changes."
Realization struck me with the force of a tidal wave, and my gaze snapped to hers. "Are you-?"
She met my stare with a firm nod.
I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Are you not afraid your head will roll for this?"
"I am a doctor, Lady Florence. And I am one with purpose. My life's work has always been to heal. When I took my oath, I swore to preserve life, not stand idly by while injustice unfolds before me. This-" she gestured around the room, her expression hardening "-is not right. I will not sit back and watch you fall."
A fierce pounding filled my chest. Had it been merely myself, I would have scoffed at the notion of running, at the foolishness of hoping for something more than this wretched fate carved out for me. But now, it was not merely I who suffered.
This was a chance. A chance to be with my child. A chance for us to be together.
"You are close to labor," Dr. Braly pressed. "We must act tonight, before it begins. I have already prepared a sleeping draught for the guards. They will be unconscious for several hours, giving us ample time to flee."
But luck had never been a faithful companion of mine.
A sharp, merciless cramp seized my stomach, so sudden and vicious that I nearly doubled over in my chair. A strangled gasp escaped me before the pain came crashing down in full force. It was as if a cruel hand had reached inside me, twisting, tearing, pulling everything apart from the inside out. My vision blurred, my nails digging into the armrests in a futile attempt to ground myself.
Dr. Braly was at my side in an instant.
"Lady Florence!" she called out with alarm.
I barely heard her. I screamed, a wretched, involuntary sound that tore from my throat as though my body sought to expel the pain through sheer force.
She pulled me to my feet, guiding me toward the bed as another wave of agony threatened to shatter my very bones. Each step felt impossible, my legs trembling beneath me. As soon as I collapsed onto the bed, Dr. Braly turned away, her hands fumbling to secure the map back beneath her skirts.
"You are going into labor, Lady Florence."
The door burst open with force, breaking the lock. A guard.
"Ride to the capital and inform Madam at once!" he bellowed.
"Get out!" Dr. Braly snapped, her composure shattering. I had never seen her so angry, never heard her voice carry such wrath.
The guard hesitated for but a moment before grumbling, "I will stand outside the door," and shutting it behind him.
It hardly mattered. I had no space left in my mind for anything beyond the searing pain consuming me. My gown clung to my skin, drenched in sweat. My breath came in desperate gasps. A sudden, violent rush of liquid spilled beneath me, soaking through the sheets in an instant.
Dr. Braly was at my side once more, urgency flickering in her eyes. "Your water has broken," she said. Then, as her gaze flickered to my face, something else passed over her features. Guilt. "Oh, Lady Florence… I am sorry. I acted too late."
Too late? Too late for what? I could not think. I could not breathe. I could not do anything but endure as the agony consumed me whole.
Time ceased to exist, lost to the never-ending cycle of pain that clawed through my body, twisting, stretching, forcing my very being to its breaking point.
Somewhere in the haze, I heard Dr. Braly's voice, steady despite the chaos. "Breathe in, breathe out," she instructed.
I tried. I failed.
The day faded into night. Shadows stretched across the room, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the walls. My body felt as though it were being torn apart. Sobs broke past my trembling lips.
"Lady Florence," Dr. Braly murmured, almost pleading.
But I could not answer her. I could only weep, clutching my stomach as the pain swallowed me whole.
The door flew open just as Dr. Braly spread my legs apart, but I could not so much as lift my head to see who had entered. My vision was clouded, obscured by the relentless sting of tears.
"You are ready, Lady Florence," Dr. Braly declared, urgency lacing her voice. "Push."
I tried. Heaven knows I tried.
"Please, push. Harder!"
I choked on my own sobs, my fingers twisting into the drenched sheets beneath me. I shook my head. "I cannot," I wept.
"You can," Dr. Braly urged. "You must."
The room blurred into nothingness, the candlelight flickering in and out of my consciousness. I tried, again and again, each push wringing another scream from my throat, each moment stretching into eternity.
And then, as the first hints of dawn spilled through the window, there came a sound, soft, fragile, unmistakable. My child's cry.
"One final push, Lady Florence," Dr. Braly instructed. "For the afterbirth."
I summoned what little remained within me, clenching my teeth and obeying. One last time.
"It is done!" Dr. Braly's voice was distant, yet filled with relief. "You did well, my dear."
The torment had ended. And in its place, the cries of my child filled the air.
And then I saw her.
Annette Vaneeri.
A chill settled deep within my bones, one that no fire could chase away. She stepped forward with an air of authority, her hands reaching for the small bundle cradled in Dr. Braly's arms. A dreadful certainty crept over me. I had known this moment would come, had braced for it, had tried to steel myself against the inevitable. And yet, the instant my child was no longer within reach, something inside me shattered.
"No," I rasped. "Give me my child."
Sleep clawed at the edges of my mind, but I fought against it with all that I had left.
"Please," I begged. "Is my child a boy or a girl? Just once, just once, let me see my child."
Annette did not look at me. "Dispose of Dr. Braly and the two guards stationed here, my daughter's order."
"What is the meaning of this!" Dr. Braly protested, but the doors had already burst open, guards storming in.
I wanted to stop them. But I could not move.
A sickening crack rang through the air. I barely had time to register what had happened before Dr. Braly crumpled to the floor, her body limp, her fight extinguished in an instant.
A hollow sort of terror crawled up my spine, spreading its icy tendrils through my very soul.
"Take Lady Florence to Zalvanica," Annette continued, her voice devoid of anything that resembled humanity. "Toss her into the forest and let the beasts feast upon her. See that she does not perish before she arrives. Ensure there is no trace left behind here."
Then, at last, she turned to me, her green eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"Enjoy your two weeks of life."
She left with my child.
It was not her words that broke me. Not the sentence she had so carelessly passed upon my life, not the promise of death that awaited me. No, none of it compared to the grief that tore through my chest as my child's cries faded into the distance.
I would never know their face. Never hold them.
Sobs wracked my body, but I no longer had the strength to scream. My fingers curled weakly into the sheets, my heart clawing desperately against the agony of loss.
"Absolutely gorgeous!"
The man's voice rang out, far too loud, dragging me back into the present like a harsh slap. Before me, a blurred shape extended something in my direction. I blinked, once, twice, until my vision cleared, and there, in the outstretched hand, lay a white handkerchief.
I followed the hand up to its owner. Jack beamed from ear to ear, his face alight with satisfaction, utterly unaware that my world had splintered into something irreparable.
My heart pounded violently, the echoes of my past clawing at my chest. The ache had not faded. The pain remained sharp. The daggers had not been removed; they remained buried deep, twisting, cutting deeper with every breath. Cecilia's soft smile flickered before my mind's eye. And then, just as swiftly, that warmth turned cold. Her hands pushing me away. Her voice trembling as she called me a stranger.
Dr. Braly's lifeless body, crumpling to the floor.
The cries of my child, growing fainter, slipping further beyond my grasp.
A sob tore from my lips before I could stop it.
"Mrs. Woodstone," Jack chuckled, oblivious to my unraveling. "The portrait is finished. You need not act any longer. I daresay you should consider a career upon the stage!"
How amusing. What a jest. And yet, nothing was funny to me.