quickly as he took her.”
Guinevere nodded before stepping back and looking at Anne. “Anne, you know that I
trust you completely, but I must ask you the question that Wain told me to ask everyone I visited,
and you must forgive me for it. Do you know anything about where the child might have been
taken to?”
Biting her lip suddenly, Anne observed the filthiness that was presently within her, but
her mind could not be changed and she innocently shook her head.
“I’m afraid that I do not, Guin. I’m sorry, but I want you to keep your spirits high and be
hopeful. Everything is going to be all right in the end.”
Her cousin nodded, sniffing and attempting to smile. “I know, Anne, thank you. I love
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you very much.” She embraced her once more. “I will strive to do as you say. If you will forgive
me, I must continue to other homes now.”
“I understand.” Anne stepped back now, stroking the woman’s cheek once more. “I will
be certain to inform you if I gain any intelligence about Portia.”
Guinevere nodded, squeezing her hand. “Thank you, Anne. Goodbye.” She turned and
walked swiftly through the door. Anne watched her departure with pity, but she guiltily awaited
the hour when she would see Portia again.
The next afternoon, one of the servants of the estate, Percival, went away from the stables
to look for Roth, who was within the mansion speaking with Henry.
“They are fine dogs, Henry,” he told the child. “And they are going to be perfect for
hunting. They have fine noses and strong voices that we will be able to hear from afar.”
“Oh, that sounds grand, Papa!” Henry exclaimed. “Could I go with Percival to get them?”
“Yes, that would be fine,” his father replied. “Actually, I’m not doing anything at the
moment so I might go as well.”
Percival cleared his throat, bowing. “Excuse me, sir. I am prepared to go for the dogs
now.”
Roth nodded at him. “Very well. I will be going as well.”
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“Yes, sir.”
Henry looked at Roth. “Papa, perhaps Mama wants to come. She hardly ever goes
anywhere. May I go and ask her if she wants to?”
Roth paused, his expression transforming as he thought about the request. He looked at
his son. “Yes, Henry, that is a good idea. But I will be the one to do it. You and Percival can go
and wait in the carriage.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry returned, and went outside with Percival while Roth traveled to the
drawing room, where Anne was writing. He leaned against the doorway, staring menacingly at
her turned back.
“What are you doing?” he monotonously wondered. His voice made the woman start and
she slowly turned in her chair to look at him.
“I am writing,” she replied just as flatly.
“Quite obviously, woman. What are you writing?”
Anne breathed, surprised that the mere sight of her husband frightened her. “A-a letter. A
letter to Guinevere.”
“Why?” He slowly walked into the room. “You spoke to her just yesterday, did you not?
I saw her come onto the property.”
Anne’s body became numb. She looked down at her hands. “Yes, she was here.”
“What was her reason for coming? And don’t tell me that she came to visit. I could tell
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that she was upset.”
Anne slowly inhaled, moistening her lips. Her palms began to perspire as her heart
pounded. “Yes, something terrible happened to her,” she quietly responded. “Someone went into
her home the night before last and took Portia.”
The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Yes? Well, what a shame. And does the child remain
unfound?”
Anne nodded, not looking at him.
Roth sighed. “How horrid.” He walked toward Anne until he was standing alongside her,
staring at her deeply. Uncomfortable, Anne raised her eyes to his, though she did not want to.
Roth grinned obstinately at her.
“Would you know anything about where Portia has gone to?” he asked softly.
“No, of course not,” she said a bit defensively, looking at him with conviction. The two
of them gazed at each other until Roth looked away and walked away from her.
“You know, it is terrible how one could perform such an act,” he said thoughtfully. “I
would be furious if someone took Henry or Lucifer away from here. Positively furious, Anne,”
he added with emphasis. He turned to her suddenly. “I must tell you why I have come to disturb
you: I have found a few hunting dogs near Bath and Percival, Henry and I were going to get
them. Henry wanted to know if you would like to come along.”
Anne ceased writing, pleased at her son’s kindness. However, it came too late.
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“Well, tell Henry that I thank him, but I would prefer to stay here and write this letter.”
“Very well.” He turned to go but then stopped and slowly turned back to her. “Oh, yes.
How did your day of shopping go?”
Anne stopped writing again, but then placed the quill pen into the ink, striving to remain
calm. “Oh, it went along fine.”
“Well, I don’t understand why you bought that infant doll. I mean, we do not have a
daughter, and don’t you believe that you are a bit old for it?”
The blood in Anne’s heart threatened to stop flowing as she continued writing, though the
letter was nearly complete. She was grateful that her back was turned so her husband could not
see her quivering lips and perspiring face. Fear tried to choke her as she struggled to speak.
“I liked the appearance of the object. It is an attractive doll, and moreover, we might have
a daughter someday.”
Roth slowly nodded. “I see.” He went out of the drawing room in a backward fashion,
looking at Anne with growing suspicion.
Grinning happily, Anne watched the clock strike one o’clock before standing up from her
seat in the drawing room. Portia had now been with Hope for three days, but the idea of returning
the child remained out of Anne’s mind as she hurried to her bedroom for her shawl so as to pay
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the infant another visit. Anxiety and fear crept into her when she thought of Roth lying or sitting
awake in their bedroom, but since she had always known him to be asleep when she made her
previous visits she did not ponder such trepidations.
Now where did I leave the shawl? Oh, yes-by the bed.
Concentrated on taking the shawl and then leaving the room as quickly as she could,
Anne hastened across the upstairs’ landing and into her bedroom, but when she stepped through
the doorway she stopped abruptly, her body tensed as her eyes widened at what was before her.
Standing near the great bed, fully dressed with his arms folded across his chest was Roth, staring
at Anne with a naked rage. He gazed at her but for a moment before speaking, his tone as overt
and angry as his expression.
“Where are you going?”
Anne did not blink, struck with terror as she was. Her mind’s processes were also
disabled, but she did fancy that she had never been more afraid in her life.
“Wench!” Roth yelled suddenly, causing Anne to start and the mansion to reverberate. “I
asked you a question and I expect you to answer it! Where are you going?”
Anne’s breath caught in her throat before she blinked, her eyes already filling with tears.
She opened her mouth and began stammering.
“I…I-I was just…I was just g-going for a-a night ride. I…”
“You see, I don’t recall you taking these night rides earlier in our marriage,” Roth
objected, the veins in his face convulsing. “Why are you taking such rides as of late?”
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Sobs gathered in the woman’s throat as she struggled to remain calm and not turn and run
away. “T-the night air,” she uttered. “I have…recently d-discovered how wonderful the…night
air can be.”
His face flooding a shade of deep crimson, Roth marched over to Anne and struck her
powerfully. She grasped that side of her face in agony, gasping, using every bit of her will to
keep her emotions from overtaking her. He moved forward to take hold of her shoulders, his
fingers pressing into her skin as she involuntarily moaned.
“Wench,” he growled between his teeth, “you are going to be sorry if you lie to me one
more time. I can hurt you in ways that you are yet unaware of, and I will.” He shook her
violently, his hold on her shoulders becoming more fixed. “Now, I demand that you tell me the
truth of where you are going!”
Such an abuse on her body shattered Anne’s spirit and she bent forward, sobbing openly,
waiting for a hesitation in her crying so that she could tell about visiting Portia.
“Portia…I wanted to see Guinevere’s child again. I simply had to!”
Scowling fiercely, Roth grabbed Anne’s arm and compressed it viciously. She exclaimed.
“That’s all. You will take me to see the child.” He frowned suddenly, looking at her.
“Wench, where exactly is the child?”
Anne began sobbing constantly, her eyes opened onto the floor, but Roth roughly forced
her into an upright position and bellowed in her face.
“Well?!”
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Inhaling shakily, Anne answered him exhaustedly, monotonously. “Hope’s home.”
His frown grew deeper. “To conceal her from me, isn’t that correct?”
Without another word, Roth thrust Anne through the doorway and proceeded to wake a
couple of servants to prepare a carriage to Hope’s.
When Roth and Anne had arrived at the maid’s home, Roth jumped out of the carriage
immediately, forcing Anne along behind him. He rushed through the house’s doorway without
rapping on the door first and Hope and her husband ran out of their upstairs bedroom, alarmed.
When they saw their visitors they slowly descended the stairs, surprised.
“Anne,” Hope began. “Mr. Parnell. What is wrong?”
“Where is the child?” Roth barked at her.
Hope glanced from Roth to Anne and then to Roth again, her face wrinkling in fright.
Sensing the tension of the situation, she responded directly.
“I-in our bedroom, sir,” she faltered.
Releasing Anne, Roth swept up the stairs and into the bedroom. A shrill wail was heard
before he emerged with the wrapped infant and hurriedly descended. He grabbed Anne’s arm
and led her out of the house before the woman had a chance to do anything but glance at Hope
despairingly. Once they were outside, Roth dropped the infant into Anne’s arms and then silently
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commanded her to step into the carriage again.
The carriage stopped once more before Guinevere’s home and Roth roughly pulled Anne
to its doorway. He took the courtesy of rapping on the door and moments later Wainwright
opened it, his face strained with fear and worry. Almost immediately he took sight of the
whimpering Portia, grabbed her away from Anne and began yelling excitedly to Guinevere.
“Guin, Guin! Oh, thank God! Guin, come here quickly! Oh, praise God!”
“Wain, what on earth is it?” Anne heard her cousin inquire from within the house, and a
moment later she emerged in the doorway and gasped, placing her hand over her heart. “Oh,
thank God,” she murmured quietly, brushing a shaking finger down her daughter’s face. She
looked at her husband and they embraced, quite oblivious of the two visitors standing before her.
Crying and laughing simultaneously, Guinevere took her child into her arms and then realized
that her cousin was there. Her expression changed from one of joy and relief to one of wonder
and confusion.
“Anne…?”
“There was a misunderstanding, but your child has now been returned to you, safe and
sound,” Roth intercepted. Glancing at Anne, he grabbed her hand and quickly steered her back to
the carriage, his manner tempestuous.
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When the carriage rolled back onto the property of the estate, Roth ordered it to be
stopped near the mansion. Angrily he jumped out of the vehicle, turning abruptly to Anne and
glaring at her.
“You are coming with me,” he muttered to her before marching to the mansion.
Anne slowly stepped out of the carriage, staring fearfully at her husband’s retreating
back. Every breath that she drew tightened her throat and she continuously swallowed, her face
white.
Roth turned around. “Hurry, wench!” he yelled at her before continuing his walk to the
mansion and into it.
Anne tried to take a soothing breath, but that seemed impossible in her terrified state.
Moistening her lips, she forced herself to walk after Roth, her limbs shaking.
When she had entered the mansion, she believed that she saw her husband drift upstairs
and so she followed him, and while she was ascending she saw his shadow enter into their
bedroom. Quietly she entered the room and looked about the room but saw nothing. Suddenly,
she heard the door behind her close sharply and upon turning she witnessed a maniacal man
advancing toward her, his fists tightly clenched.
“What, in the name of hell, was your intention, you horrendous woman? Why, in the
name of hell, did you take another’s baby child when you have your own damned children?
Why?!”
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The breaths that Anne had been trying to inhale broke into sobs and she shook her head
helplessly, standing crookedly before him. Clenching his teeth, Roth loped the final distance
toward Anne and grabbed her neck, inducing her to scream in terror. He steered her toward the
opposite wall, thrusting her head against it with force. His hand was still dangerously curled
around her throat as he yelled in her face.
“Why did you steal that child?!”
Anne gagged, struggling with all of her might to breathe, but she felt as if her throat was
becoming narrower all of the time. She closed her eyes as the tears ran down her face, the sobs in
her chest layering on top of each other. Her knees almost buckled as her muscles began shaking
mercilessly.
“I…I wanted my own little girl to care for…to love, as my own,” she managed, her face
turning red. “I cannot…I cannot relate to Henry and Willie.”
A brief pause ensued before Roth struck her again. She emitted a cry.
“You listen to me, wench-you have children, two children of your own. You had no need
to steal that child. Even if you had been disloyal to me and produced those children with another
man, which is something that I would not doubt as being part of your character, they would still
be yours. Yes, even if they were complete bastards they still would have come out of your
damned womb!”
Anne closed her eyes again, wishing that Roth would be vacant from the room when she
opened them. “I wanted a girl,” she said meekly, her face moist with tears.
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“You ungrateful wench! Who am I, then, if I am not your husband? Why would you steal
a child when you can have one with me?”
Anne’s eyes remained closed, her shoulders trembling with her stored fear and
helplessness.
“Why?!” Roth shouted, leaning forward.
She tried to shake her head, her neck still in his grasp. “I don’t know!” she exclaimed.
Roth curled his lips back into a sinister smile before releasing his hand from Anne’s
throat. She gasped and coughed, but a moment later he was inches from her face again.
“So, it is a girl you want, is it not?” He surged forward and pressed his lips to hers,
causing her to exclaim in surprise. “I can give you that right now,” he whispered evilly.
Anne began shaking her head, terror and horror mingling within her and inducing her to
scream loudly. Paying no heed, Roth kissed her again, holding her shoulders in a tight grasp
against the wall. Scared and angry, Anne struggled to move away from him, but the more she
fought the more secure his grip on her became. Roth stepped backward and struck her and she
screamed, moving her eyes longingly toward the doorway and trying to run away.
“No!” Roth yelled, forcing her against the wall again and again. “You will stay where
you are and have a child with me!”
“No!” Anne yelled back, panic and madness welling within her. She continued to
struggle, but Roth threw her against the wall and began kissing her neck. Anne growled in
despair, suddenly pondering all of the difficulties that she had suffered through in her life and
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striving to add together the different measures of strength that each one had commanded of her
so she could have the strength to throw Roth aside, but it was to no avail.
Snarling, Roth finally grabbed her by the neck and flung her into the nearest corner. He
walked toward her, taking off his coat and throwing it aside. Upon seeing this Anne began
screaming again, her eyes filled with fear and outrage as they watched Roth advancing toward
her.
“Help!” she screamed, tears pouring from her eyes. She glared at Roth with all of the
hatred and repugnance that she had ever felt for him. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me! Oh,
help!”
He smiled smugly, not seemingly deterred that it was possible she could awaken the
sleeping people in the mansion. “No. If you want a child, then you will have one with me.”
Anne screamed as loudly as she could, sobbing passionately, but Roth pounced on her,
clad only in his breeches now. With one rough hand he grabbed her arms and pressed them down
whilst his other hand was placed over Anne’s mouth. She struggled, crying and yelling in
anguish, but Roth tore at the chest of her dress until it was destroyed, lying atop her. Quickly he
kicked off the remainder of his clothes and forcibly kissed her. Sobbing wildly, she bit the hand
that was placed over her mouth and screamed at him, but he responded by slapping her, biting
her or simply growling “No”. As the minutes went by Anne began to grow exhausted and her
intervals of fighting him became fewer and fewer. Eventually she stopped altogether and simply
lay on the floor as she sank into a state of numb sub-consciousness. Vaguely she recalled another
man abusing her in a similar way at a distant point in her life, a man who had done so whilst
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under the effects of a dangerous substance. However, that abuse was nothing compared to what
she was presently enduring. Her eyes involuntarily closed as she waited for yet another ordeal to
be over with; as she waited to be destroyed.
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22 Additional Consequences
The autumn sun was just rising when Anne suddenly awoke the following morning from
the same area on the floor that she had been forced to lie upon. For a quick moment she glanced
about her in confusion, but the memory of what had occurred a few hours prior flew back to her
and she became petrified, staring ahead with widened eyes. After a couple of moments she
looked around the room in terror for Roth, but the man had left long ago. Part of her face hurt
and when she laid a hand upon it she realized that it was badly bruised because of the numerous
times that Roth had struck her. She glanced down at her dress and shamefully beheld that it was
still torn open to exposition. Exhaling painfully, she wrapped the remnants of the dress around
her before turning to look out the nearest window, tears slowly coursing down her cheeks as she
bleakly looked out at the front of the house. Not a thought drifted through her mind as her senses
dulled and she continued staring out the window, seeing nothing. She did not even seem to be
aware of a pair of childish feet advancing toward her open doorway and coming into the
bedroom a moment later.
“Hello, Mama,” Henry chirped as he walked toward her, not noticing the way that she
was seated on the floor. “How is everything?”
Anne retained her gaze as if he was not there, but Henry moved to the window to look
out as well.
“The sunrise is pretty, isn’t it?” He turned to look at Anne for the first time and gasped.
“Mama, what happened to your face?”
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Anne suddenly became aware of her son’s presence and covered her face with her hand
before standing and walking across the room for her shawl. She wrapped it around her and
looked at Henry in an uncertain, almost fearful way.
“Oh, I was riding last night and I fell off,” she said nervously. “But I’ll be fine.”
Henry squinted at her. “Does Papa know?”
Anne’s heart dropped heavily to her feet as her face turned white. “N-no.” She tried to
speak more confidently. “And please do not tell him, Henry. I…I would not wish for him to
worry about me. Promise me that you will not.”
“All right,” the little boy answered, unaware of his mother’s distress. He looked outside
once more. “You know, Mama, Papa said that if the weather doesn’t get too cold he will take
Willie and me outside to play croquet.”
Anne had become rigid when she heard Roth mentioned again, but now she shook herself
and tried to look at Henry in an amiable way. “Yes, Henry, that is wonderful.”
“I think so as well.” Stepping away from the window, he grinned at Anne one last time
before going toward the doorway again. “I will see you at breakfast, Mama,” he said over his
shoulder. “I told Hope that I wanted flapjacks. I hope she did not forget.”
After Henry had left, Anne glanced at the doorway of her bedroom, vividly remembering
how she had yearned to pass through it that same morning whilst fighting an enemy who had
held complete control over her. A shiver flowed through her and every emotion that she
possessed was weighed down in depression, but as much as she dreaded traveling downstairs,
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seeing Roth after such a night and living as she did before she had taken Portia, something within
her told her to continue. Thus, swallowing sob after sob, she proceeded to rid of her torn dress,
care for her injuries the best that she could and go to breakfast.
That afternoon Henry rushed excitedly to Anne, who was sitting on the high balcony for
lunch. Her plate, however, remained untouched.
“Mama!” the child yelled, coming to a sudden stop before her. “Papa said we’re going to
play croquet today! He said the weather is going to be perfect for it!”
She nodded slowly, looking not at him but at the plate of food set before her. “Very well,
Henry. I hope that you enjoy yourself.”
“Well, we are going to be playing out there by the fountains if you want to watch us.”
Anne nodded. “Perhaps I will,” she said quietly.
“You can see the fountains very well from here, Mama,” the child went on.
She nodded once more, sighing despondently. “Yes, Henry, I know.”
He looked at her, nodded and left hastily, but then a masculine voice came to her ears.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
Anne turned to see the servant Kendall standing near her. He bowed.
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“Ma’am, Mrs. Ingland is here to see you.”
Anne stood hurriedly, almost upsetting her lunch. Forgetting about her servant, she
scampered into the mansion again and down the stairs to the front door, where she saw