Chapter 4 The Garden

  Beatris

  I woke with a gasp.

  My body jerked upright, breath tearing out of my chest as the last word echoed in my head.

  Run.

  For a moment, I couldn't move, the forest clung to me, not around me but inside me.

  My chest rose too fast, each breath uneven, like I hadn't stopped running. My fingers dug into the sheets beneath me, grounding myself slowly.

  The room came back in pieces, the narrow bed, and thin curtains and the faint morning light slipping through, I swallowed hard.

  "It was just a dream," I whispered, but the words didn't settle. My voice sounded thin, and uncertain.

  My heart still raced, refusing to slow, like it didn't believe me either. Slowly, I lifted my hand, my wrist turned toward the light, and I froze. Marks, faint but clear, finger-shaped.

  Like someone had held me there, hard.

  My breath caught, my fingers hovered just above my skin, stopping short before touching.

  I didn't want to feel it again, but I could already remember it. The grip, the pull, the force.

  "No..." I whispered.

  That wasn't possible, I hadn't left this room, no one had come near me.

  A sharp pain cut through my abdomen.

  I gasped. My body folded slightly, my hand dropping instantly to my stomach as the sensation tightened low and deep. It came again. Stronger this time, enough  to make my breath stutter.

  And then the words came rushing. 

  "He has taken the baby."

  My chest tightened so suddenly it hurt.

  "No," I muttered quickly, shaking my head as if that could force the thought out. "No, that's was just a dream"

  Another wave of pain spread through me, dull but heavy, settling deep in my lower abdomen.

  I pushed myself up slowly, my legs unsteady for a second as I stood, something felt off.

  A strange warmth, uncomfortable, I stilled.

  Then understanding came, slow and reluctant.

  "Oh..."

  The tension in my shoulders eased just slightly.

  My breath steadied.

  "It's just that," I murmured.

  Of course that  explained it, the  pain, the  heaviness, the discomfort.

  I pressed my hand lightly against my stomach again, this time to reassure myself.

  "It's just my period," I said, firmer now.

  Everything was normal. My gaze dropped back to my wrist, the marks hadn't faded, still there,  clear. I hesitated, then exhaled slowly, coincidence.

  I must have twisted my arm in my sleep.

  Pressed it too hard against something.

  That had to be it.

  "I'm overthinking," I muttered quietly.Everything that happened yesterday.

  That was all.

  "Beatris."

  I flinched slightly at the sound of my name.

  Diana was already crossing the room toward me, her steps quick against the wooden floor. 

  Around us, the other maids were only just beginning to wake properly, some tying their aprons, others rushing to fix their hair as the pale morning light slipped through the narrow windows.

  The room, which had been quiet moments ago, was slowly filling with movement and low chatter.

  "You're still here?" she asked, stopping in front of me. "Mrs. Helen has been calling everyone. We're serving breakfast in the garden this morning. Some guests are coming for a small celebration."

  I nodded quickly. "I heard."

  As I reached for my apron, the fabric brushed against my wrist.

  A sharp sting shot through it. My hand stopped mid-air. I sucked in a quiet breath, my fingers tightening slightly before I forced them to move again.

  Diana noticed.

  Her eyes dropped immediately to my hand. "What happened to your wrist?"

  I followed her gaze.

  The marks were still there, faint, but clear enough in the morning light. The shape hadn't changed, still unmistakably fingers.

  My stomach tightened.

  I turned my hand away too quickly, reaching for the fabric beside me. "Nothing," I said, my voice coming out a little too fast. "I must've slept on it wrong."

  "That doesn't look like nothing," she said, stepping closer.

  I pulled my sleeve down, covering it halfway.

  "It's fine," I insisted, forcing my tone to stay even. "Really."

  She didn't move immediately.

  Her eyes lingered.

  Then she sighed.

  "If you say so. Just don't let Mrs. Helen see you slowing down. She's already tense because of the guests."

  A small smile tugged at my lips, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "When is she not?"

  Diana huffed softly. "Exactly."

  ***

  "Quickly!"

  Mrs. Helen's voice cut through the hallway before we even reached the stairs.

  "Positions! The guests will be seated soon!"

  We lined up almost immediately, the movement automatic now.

  "Beatris, Diana, Adora you'll handle the wine," she said, her sharp gaze moving across us. "It's a morning gathering, but I want everything done properly. No mistakes."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  A bottle was placed into my hands.

  The glass felt cool. my fingers tightened around it anyway, it felt heavier than it should have.

  The garden looked different in the morning.

  Sunlight filtered through the trees, catching on the glassware and silver laid out across the long tables. Fresh flowers had been arranged carefully, their scent mixing with the faint aroma of food being carried out from the kitchen.

  The guests arrived slowly. Their laughter was light, controlled, their voices blending into the morning air as they took their seats.

  We stood behind them. Waiting to be called for a refill. 

  Then the mood shifted. It was slight, barely noticeable, but I felt it.

  My fingers tightened around the bottle. I didn't look toward the house, I didn't need to cause I already knew what was coming. 

  The doors opened, and he stepped out.

  Lord Alexander De Vere.

  The effect was immediate, conversations softened, laughter thinned.

  Even the air felt different, like something had passed through it and left it heavier.

  He walked down the steps slowly, his posture straight, his expression calm in a way that felt too controlled to be natural.

  The sunlight caught his face, sharpening every line. No one spoke, not until he reached the table.

  Only then did the guests begin to move again greeting him, careful, measured. I kept my eyes lowered, it didn't matter anyway, I could still feel him.