The Opening Night Murder by Anne Rutherford Read Free Book Online Page A

time I could be married to Farthingworth here, it would be apparent to all that you had sold him devalued property. He would be embarrassed, you would be scandalized, and I would be trapped in a marriage to a man I don’t love.” She addressed Farthingworth, “I’m so sorry, but it’s true. And neither do you love me, so I think we’re both better off not being married to each other, don’t you agree?”
    Farthingworth opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She returned her attention to her father and said, “Don’t you think, Father? Isn’t it better to marry someone you love than to make a purely financial arrangement without regard to feelings or personality? Particularly since my dowry is so very…
reasonable
?”
    She waited in silence for a reply. Saying more would not be helpful, so she knitted her fingers together to the point of pain to keep her mouth from uttering another word. Nobody spoke.
    Finally Farthingworth cleared his throat and drew in his chin. He looked at Suzanne, and she saw some pain in his eyes. No anger, but real pain. Even more she regretted having blurted in front of him, for she had never wished to be unkind. He said, “Thank you for your honesty, Miss Thornton. So rare in a woman, and I should have liked that in a wife.” Suzanne opened hermouth to reply, but he spoke over her. “Well…I expect there is much to be said here that doesn’t involve me. I’ll take my leave now. A pleasant evening to you both, and I hope all turns out well.” With that, he bowed to Father. “I’ll find the door myself, thank you.” And he departed with alacrity uncharacteristic of him.
    Father waited until he was certain Farthingworth was out of earshot, then he reached out and smacked Suzanne on the cheek. She staggered sideways, but from long experience was able to make a quick recovery. Her cheek burned red and it took a moment for her vision to clear as she resumed her stance before her father. Her hands remained at the small of her back, and she faced him in defiant silence. Her thoughts were on Daniel, and she hoped he would wait for her at the stairs. When this beating was over, she would hurry to him. If he came, all would be right with the world and he would help her to know what to do.
    Father raised his cane and proceeded to beat her. He pulled none of his strokes. He never did. She protected her baby with her arms and presented the parts of her she knew could withstand the punishment with only bruises. It seemed to go on forever, and soon there seemed never to have been a time when she wasn’t being beaten with Father’s cane.
    When it finally stopped, it was as if she’d begun a whole new life filled with pain that would never end. She lay huddled on the floor, her arms swollen and possibly broken, blood running from her lacerated scalp and down her neck. Her nose was intact, but one side of her upper lip had risen to the size of an egg. Her father ordered her to her bedchamber, there to await supper, and he left her on the ’tiring room floor. On his way out he ordered the downstairs maid to leave her alone. Suzanne was to make her way upstairs and clean up by herself.
    Slowly she struggled to her feet and climbed the stairs to the room she shared with her sisters. There she wet a towel in the washbowl and dabbed at her face. Her hair was hopeless, matted with blood. Taking it down and trying to comb it out would take all night, and there wasn’t enough time for that, so she tied it up with a kerchief. The cloth soaked through immediately, but there was nothing for it. Time was of the essence, and being caught just now might bring another, worse beating. This bleeding would stop when it would. The swollen lip would go down, the cuts would heal, the bruises would fade. They always had. And these would be the last of them, she swore.
    None of the family were present at the moment, so she was unhindered as she packed a small satchel with clothes. Then she drew on her cloak