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“No,”–he shoved it back in my mouth–“you must stop the bleeding. If you are telling me the truth, and you are carrying my child, then everything I know has changed. I've lived my entire life believing it couldn't happen, that I wasn't able to have children.”
He paused for a moment, considering. “We must marry soon, before you begin showing.”
“I have,” I said, handing him the bloodied rag. “I’m only slightly round, but you can tell what it is.” William eyed me leerily.
“You couldn’t possibly be.”
“But, I am. We've adjusted the height of my hoops... that way I can hide it.” I paused, fiddling with a button on my gown. “Will you tell me what you are?”
“Why do you have to continue to broach the subject when I have told you before not to worry about it?”
“I am worried about it! I saw a part of you that I only had an inkling existed. You were... completely different. Why did you lick my blood, William? Why did you suddenly become so much like an animal? Your teeth! I have a plethora of questions!”
“You mustn't roam in a realm of the unknown, Rose. It isn't healthy.”
“You are my realm of unknown! I feel as though I know nothing about you, and everything all at once.”
“You are being dramatic.” He opened the door to the hallway, ignoring the hurt expression on my face entirely. “I will not leave, but I request that you go and change your dress before someone realizes what has happened.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose I can’t ask Rebecca for assistance.” I filed away my questions, saving them for later.
“I will help dress you, of course.”
We walked quickly and quietly to my room, locking ourselves in to discard the ruined dress. William eyed my loosened corset, he beckoned to undo it completely, allowing it to collapse onto the floor.
I pulled the fabric of my underdress taunt over my stomach, the evidence of a small lump between my hips. On his knees before me, William pressed his ear against my stomach. His hands ran up the back of my thighs, gripping them as I watched his eyes widen.
“That’s what it was,” he murmured.
“What can you hear?” Surprised he could hear something so small, I caressed his face. He laughed once in astonishment, jumping to his feet to kiss me.
“Your mother is coming,” he said, helping me into the corset once more. He did it so quickly, I did not even realize it had happened until he threw one of my dresses over my head. Before we could finish, there came five urgent raps on my door and my mother's worried voice.
“Rosemary! Darling, are you in here? There seems to have been a struggle in William's room… dearest?”
William and I exchanged terrorized glances, what did we do? My lip was still swollen, but I was cleanly dressed. I didn’t know what my cheek looked like, if he had left a mark or not. William had no blood on his shirt, just his face, which he took the back of his hand to. He mussed his hair, undoing several buttons of his shirt.
Ruffling my own hair, he made quick work of turning my dress into disarray. Knowing the exact part to play, I opened the door. My mother’s eyes popped, guarded beneath the shameful disgust. I gnawed on my lip, gripping the door tight in my hand.
“Yes, Mother?” I asked in apprehension. She eyed me, and craned her neck to look into the room. I followed her gaze to William on my bed, his head in his hands, shaking back and forth.
“What were...?” She straightened, changing her mind. “Were you at all in William's room?”
“No, Mother, we were in here,”
“A relief, I suppose. There appears to have been a struggle of some sort. Things are knocked over, and there's blood on the floor.”
“I must see!” William asserted, rushing toward the door in a haste. My mother put her hands up to stop him.
“Mr. Blackwell, I think it best if you and my daughter righted yourselves. Mr. Abbott would not approve of your current state; he knows not of Rose'spredicament.” Mother motioned toward his unbuttoned shirt. A nervous laugh bubbled from my throat.
“Mother, would you help me?” I beckoned her in. Mother directed William toward my parents' room, which he went to dutifully. When he was gone, she ushered me toward the mirror and began to work on my hair. I saw my reflection for the first time since the incident. My lip, twice its normal size and purpled, still trickled with blood. I could see more still pooling by my hairline and hoped she wouldn’t go near it.
And there was my cheek.
The angry red mark ladened across my cheekbone.
“What were you two up to? I see your face, I worry about you,” Mother finally asked me in a hush voice. My stomach knotted in anguish.
