AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As I learned to forgive him for his secrets, we enjoyed time together as newlyweds, spending evenings reading, pouring over ledgers for work, and picnics in the park on breezy days. He liked to walk the beach with me when the sun was hiding behind clouds, as he said it helped him avoid headaches. We had not seen or heard from Noel once, which was surprising to the both of us, but welcomed.
I found just how well learned William was, how gentile he could be. He did not tell me exactly how old he was, but that he had been alive for many hundred years and went to several universities in search of knowledge and truth. The summer in Boston was the most time we had spent getting to know each other and every day with him I softened to our future. A future filled with the joys of parenting our child, who I had hoped so fervently would have their father’s emerald eyes–sans fangs, however.
William refused to set up a nursery in our townhome, as he had his heart set on returning to the country before autumn for the birth. He had been scouring the countryside for an estate of such brilliance to call our own and I knew it would not be long now until he settled on one. William also refused to have me attended to by the local doctors, claiming he, Filip, and Horris would be enough during the birth. I wondered if that was solely because we were not sure what would come of our infant.
One August morning, William had gone downtown to manage some business imports and I readied myself to run errands for baby necessities. As I gazed into the mirror, fixing the straw summer hat atop my head, I saw how sickly I had become over the months.
Eating had been difficult, if not at all impossible recently and I struggled to keep anything down, let alone put it in my mouth. Meats had been the most tolerable, but even still I often found myself denying those. In the reflection of the mirror though, I appeared thinner than I had ever seen myself. My skin seemed tinged gray, my eyes sunken deep within the sockets, purple circles surrounding them. My cheeks were sunken, the shape of my bones protruding from underneath the thin sheet of skin. I looked down at my hands really seeing them for the first time in ages. My fingers were skeletal, and my wedding ring which had fit so perfectly before, spun freely and loose on my hand.
I tried to put it out of my mind as I opened the parasol and stepped into the bright summer light. It was warm already, humid from the bay. Being in the city had its perks, one of them being ample walking distance from the shops and not needing a coach much of the time. I waddled past my neighbors, taking my time to not over exert in the stuffy heat as breakfast had not been sitting well on my stomach. I was grateful to not have someone fussing over me to lay down and stay inside, because the city was gorgeous. Georgian buildings packed tightly together along the brick roads, the salt of the Atlantic just outside of the harbor in the air. It invigorated me as I crossed the streets of the city to find a fabric shop.
After a short while, I happened upon an older part of town, where a plump woman was setting displays of fabric in her window. I opened the door, a bell tolling my arrival, and was hit with the scent of sweat and cedar. My stomach quivered.
“Good morning, dear,” the woman greeted, smiling. “Anything I can help you find?” I began browsing selections of fabrics, immediately running my hands across the different textures. Many were brightly colored with delicate floral designs that made my heart quicken at their beauty. Others were solid and thick, blues, spinks, browns.
“I am looking for fabric to make an infant’s dress.” I touched a satin white cloth and imagined my baby swaddled in it. My heart could have burst from the love that flowed through me, seeing the three of us together, my family.
“That is a wonderful fabric. I do have a very nicely weaved white cotton here, too, if you would like.” The woman confidently marched across the floor toward the back of her shop, climbing a ladder in her heavy dress to the top of a shelf where she pulled down a lovely white fabric. Thankful, I grabbed the satin board and brought it along to be cut as well.
Behind the counter, the woman measured out the appropriate length of each, delicately folding them and placing them into a sack with free sewing patterns to be carried home. As she was ringing up my purchase on her gilded cash register, a patron entered, causing a rush of moist, warm air to swirl through the shop, and as it did, it enveloped me.
Filling all of my senses with the smell of freshly baked bread, yeasty and buttery. My mouth began to salivate, and hunger filled every fiber of my being. As I opened my eyes, I could focus on nothing other than the woman’s neck, which almost seemed to pulsate on the side. I wondered what it would be like to reach over the counter and pull her close to me, to sink my teeth into her neck. Would she scream in horror? Would it shatter the glass of the windows?
I could see myself covered in this woman’s blood and it excited me. The river dripping down my chin and my neck, laughing as it coated my teeth and tongue, tasting the buttery iron. I could see myself splashing in a puddle of her blood, her limp body on the ground, white, lifeless. It raged through me and when I gripped the bag, suddenly so uneasy, so close to her hand, she had real concern in her eyes.
“Are you alright, miss?” she asked, leaning back. I gripped her hand, digging my nails into the soft flesh as she shrieked, ripping it away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I snapped out of it, vomit burning up my throat. What had I done?
“Please forgive me,” I begged, shame coloring my cheeks. I ran out the door and down the street, as fast as I could carry myself with my heavy pregnant belly. I shoved past others, sweating in the heat, bile threatening to spill. I was panicked, why had I done that? My heart beat roughly in my chest and I struggled to get a full breath.
When I finally reached our home, I bent over and released the vomit I had fought to contain on our front step, gagging and hacking until I became dizzy, shaking from the experience. Sitting down, my breathing ragged, I leaned my head back against the cool stone stairs. I wanted to undo my dress, just to breathe, but could not bring myself to move from sheer exhaustion. My limbs tingled, the blue sky spinning.
I succumbed to sleep at some point, dreaming of blood. Bathing in blood, swimming in blood, drinking it from a chalice. So much blood, I just needed a taste; crimson and shimmering, red and viscous.
“Rosemary!” a panicked voice called. My eyes fluttered open. “Are you alright? Oh god, what happened! Please, let me help you.” William threw down his bag, and lifted me into his arms effortlessly, opening our door and setting me on our green velvet couch in the parlor. I began to take my hat off as he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with water and cornbread.
“Take these, you look like Death itself.” He left again with inhuman speed, coming back into the room with a basin of water and a rag. “What happened, Rose?”
“I went to the shops and felt ill, I must have fainted, I’ve been so tired lately,” I lied, unsure of how I should tell him about the shopkeeper. William undid the buttons of my dress to release me from purgatory, gently patting my face and neck with the cool water.
“You are burning up.” Carefully bringing me to my feet, he pulled the gown and corset off, setting me back on the couch in only my undergarments. “Eat, I’ll ready a bath.” He disappeared upstairs, the sound of running water ensuing.
I leaned back, anxiety taking over every sensation. Would he be alarmed if I told him? Part of me wondered if he would allow me to drink it since I craved it, and I didn’t know if that disturbed me or not. Would I like it? What would it mean if I liked it? These questions ran through my mind almost as fast as William moved. Before I knew it, having nibbled on the cornbread and sipped my water, William was back, helping me from my seat. He took me into his strong arms once more, carrying me effortlessly up the steps into the bathroom.
Our bathroom was of a decent size, a large clawfoot tub next to the toilet which he’d filled with lukewarm water. William set me to stand in it, gently removing my undergarments and letting my hair fall from its pinned position.
“Careful now,” he murmured, helping me to lower myself and relax in the water. He pulled a small stool beside the tub to sit himself on. It was heavenly, the load taken from my hips as my round belly became buoyant in the water. In the glow of the lamps I could see the splotches of purple bruising on the skin. William flinched as he watched the baby roll in my stomach, stretching me where a foot pushed toward the outside world.
“He is quite strong, isn’t he?” William asked through clenched teeth, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt to take a rag and wash my neck and shoulders.
“Yes, though I don’t know what we should expect, he is half you.” I smiled weakly. His arms hung over the edge of the porcelain tub, eyes full of sorrow. I reached up to smooth the crease forming between his brows with my wet fingers. If I wasn’t completely deflated, on the edge of collapse, I’d have thought he was sinful with his strong arms exposed just so.
“What is it?” I asked quietly.
“You look haggard, my love. I am worried about your health.”
“I’m fine, I promise.”
