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“I will be back, in less than a day, I promise.” He passed me and began descending the stairs.
“No! You cannot! You promised you would not leave me again! Where are you going?”
“To find Filip and send word to Horris.” He reached the door, grabbing his hat and gazing at me with forlorn eyes. “If you are craving blood, this changes so many things. Instead of risking a letter, I need to find Filip myself. Why don’t you prepare him a room, he’ll be staying with us until the baby is born. I also do not believe we should be returning to your parents’ estate to have the child.”
“Please, just send a letter, do not go,” I pleaded, my hands clenching the lapel of his coat. “We are so close to having the baby, what if something happens while you’re away? How can I send for you if I know not where you are?”
“Nothing will happen.” William’s smile was weak, less reassuring than I would have hoped. “Please try to eat something,” He kissed my forehead and left before I could argue any further. I tried to catch sight of his hat down the street, but he had already disappeared, an apparition, a trick of the light.
I shrieked in anger as I slammed the door shut, locking it. Running up to our room, I flung myself onto the bed and began to sob.
Chest tight, cries bouncing off the walls of the room, I was confused. Lost. Would Filip know what it meant for me to crave blood? I assumed William had been in frequent contact with Filip all summer, but whatever he found or did not find was never relayed to me.
How would we navigate it if the baby didn’t want milk when it was born? This seemed a confirmation of my worst nightmare, and yet my mind wandered to slashing the throat of an innocent stranger, lapping up their divine life giving liquid.
The remainder of the day was spent curled in our bed until the sun began to set and the deep ruby reds and oranges of the sky bled across the bedroom. Sitting up, starved and thirsty, I made my way to the kitchen.
Inside the icebox were chunks of stew meat, bloodied in their juices. I assumed William was keeping them for dinner tonight; I grabbed the meat, setting it on the counter to place a copper pot on the hob.
While it heated, I poured a glass of water, drinking what I could of it before the smell of the raw meat wafted toward me. I felt ravenous, a primal urge rippled through me just as it had done in the fabric shop. Before I could think it through, I grabbed a chunk with my bare hands, slippery and cool, I heartily shoved it into my mouth.
The flavors of iron and flesh melted on my tongue, and I groaned in relief. The texture was like butter, soft and supple.
I ate another, and another until I realized what I was doing. Repulsed, I threw the meat down, rinsing my mouth with water.
“Get yourself together, Rosemary!” I said, slapping myself on the forehead. I turned off the hob and returned the meat to the icebox with quivering hands. Never had I wished so much for a servant or house attendant in the months residing in this house than in this moment. William refused, he said he had never needed one before and we could enjoy each other more without the fuss of staff.
Now, I only wished for someone to keep me away from the bloodied meat.
Making my way upstairs with slow, off-balance steps, I remembered to ready a room for Filip. One of the guest rooms had not been opened in some time and I took a moment to dust, fluff, and make the bed before retiring to my own. Slipping off to sleep, I hoped William would be home early.
***
The front door creaked, startling me awake.
He was home.
Happiness burst through me, filling the void that had been left from the disquiet of his absence.
“William!” I called, fighting my large belly to sit up and practically roll out of bed. The door latched shut downstairs. “My love!” He had not yet made it to the bedroom as I threw on my dressing gown and something settled uneasily in my gut.
“William, darling?” I asked unsteadily, opening the bedroom door to peer down the hallway to the stairs. Silence.
My heart galloped in my chest and the baby spun and kicked in response. I closed the bedroom door, dashing to the bedside table drawer for the keys to lock it.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, stay calm.” I muttered to myself, chest clenching in terror. It couldn’t be her, no. It must not be her.
Fumbling, I somehow managed to get the iron key into the lock, twisting it until it clicked. Pressing my ear against the door, I listened for any sounds in the distance.
There came nothing.
Every hair on my body stood on end, the familiar need to escape racked my frame. I ran to the one of the windows in our bedroom, wondering if I could safely make it down to the ground but immediately, I knew it was foolish. The bedroom was two stories up, and my balance was severely impacted by the bulbous growth of motherhood.
A knock came on the door, tearing me from my thoughts. My mouth dried out as the nausea soured me with fear.
Dare I answer? They already knew I heard them.
Again, another knock. Frantic, I looked about the room for anything to use as a weapon. My eyes zeroed in on the wardrobe and I wondered if William kept a gun in it as many men did. Surely he would. Although it seemed silly, as I knew he was much more lethal than any weapon I might yield. I was desperate, though, I needed something to defend myself.
