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Belle’s eyes flew open. Her heart raced in the darkness of Sidney’s living room. She could see only what the moonlight would allow, but that in no way affected her hearing. Her ears were as finely tuned as ever. She listened to the silence, certain she’d heard something. It had woken her from a sound sleep, but that was the only thing she could say with any certainty for the moment.
Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, and she waited for someone to emerge out of the darkness. Nothing happened though. No sound came, and Belle’s heart began to still. Suddenly, Sidney let out a loud snore, and a relieved giggle escaped Belle’s mouth.
She quickly covered her mouth with her hands to hide her laughter, the tension leaving her body in one fast swoop. Never before had someone’s snore awoken her. She shut her eyes and was nearly back to sleep when a fresh sound came to her ears, only this was no snore.
“Help,” Irene cried out. It was loud, but not a scream. More like an exaggerated whisper, as if she was having trouble getting breath enough to put the word out.
Belle sat up in the darkness, her legs flying over the side of the couch, her nightdress getting tangled in her feet.
“Aaaahhh! Help,” Irene yelled, louder this time, though her voice turned from a clear cry to a garbled one.
It’s Marshall! He’s got her!
Belle’s heart began to pound. She jumped out of bed, her body moving purely on instinct.
Sidney’s snores did not cease, and Belle wondered how he could sleep through something so terrifying. There was no time to think, only time to act. She should have slept with a knife beneath her pillow. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She grabbed a candlestick off a table and ran.
“Sidney!” Belle shouted out as she moved. His snores briefly ceased and then resumed with a vengeance, as if they were out to spite her.
Belle turned the knob on Irene’s door and felt relief wash over her when it opened with ease, grateful that it was not locked. She moved into the room, her eyes having already adjusting to the darkness, and saw only Irene’s lone figure thrashing about in her bed.
There was one window, which was shut, and a dresser which no one could be hiding behind. The curtains were partially open, and a thin film of moonlight shined in through the glass, giving her just enough light to see that no one was hiding in any corner of the room.
Irene let out another scream, this one more garbled than the last. It was loud but not ear piercing, and Belle’s tension immediately eased. No Marshall. No danger. Just a dream.
She set aside the candlestick and hurried to the bed to shake Irene awake. Her eyes fluttered open. She was breathing hard and sat quickly up in her bed, her hands curling into fists and moving out in front of her as if ready to fight off whoever had been attacking her in her dream.
“Irene,” Belle said, keeping her voice low and calm. Irene’s hands continued to thrash out in front of her, fighting an invisible attacker. “Irene,” Belle said again, grabbing hold of the woman’s wrists and attempting to still them. “It’s all right. No one’s here. You were having a nightmare.”
Slowly, Irene’s fight began to fade, and her tension eased. Her shoulders slumped forward, and she began to cry. Belle sat on the edge of her bed, uncertain what to do, then realizing how foolish she was being. If it had been her crying, what would she have wanted someone to do?
She put her arms around Irene’s shoulders and held her tightly, allowing her to cry into her shoulder. They remained that way for several minutes, until Irene’s tears finally began to subside, and the shaking of her body quieted.
“I’m sorry,” Irene said to her.
“For what?” Belle asked.
“For everything,” she said. “For coming here to Elmwood, for getting between you and Sidney, for dragging you into this mess with Marshall, which should be mine alone to deal with.”
“Is that who you were dreaming of? Marshall?”
She nodded, her voice cracking. “He was chasing me, and I couldn’t get away.” She wiped at her face, and in a soft voice repeated her earlier apology. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Belle stroked the woman’s hair and let out a deep breath. “It is I who should be apologizing to you.”
“You have no reason to apologize,” Irene said. “You knew from the start that I was hiding something, and you were right. You may have mixed up precisely what it was that I was keeping from Sidney, but you were never wrong that I had secrets.”
“I wish I could say that were all true so that I might excuse my behavior, but the truth is...” Belle drew in a deep breath and let it back out. “...I was so jealous of you I could hardly see straight. It would not have mattered if you were an angel sent to Earth by God Himself, I would still have found fault with you.”
Irene’s head tilted back, and Belle saw her eyes glow dimly in the darkness. “You were jealous of me? But I was jealous of you.” She looked at Belle uncertainly. “It was clear to me from the moment I arrived in Elmwood that Sidney wanted you, and I didn’t know how to handle that.”
“You had every right to be with him,” Belle said. “Far more than I did at that time.”
Irene shook her head. “But I did not love him. You did, and I saw that. But instead of stepping aside as a better woman might have, I tried to lay greater claim to him.”
“It’s funny,” said Belle, tilting her head to the side. “I tried to lay greater claim to him as well. We must have driven him mad between us.”
A loud snore echoed from Sidney’s bedroom just then, and Irene jumped. “Don’t worry,” Belle said. “It’s only Sidney’s snores, and though they may sound quite bad to our ears, I’m fairly certain there is no danger in them.”
He let out another one just then that nearly rattled the ceiling. Irene and Belle sat together in silence for a moment, and then burst into giggles. “I’m surprised he did not wake himself that last one was so loud,” said Irene.
“I’m surprised he does not wake the neighbors,” said Belle.
They continued to giggle until finally, Belle suggested they go out into the kitchen and have tea, knowing that neither could go back to sleep just now. Irene nodded her agreement, and in the kitchen, Belle lit a candle as Irene took a seat at the table, her head in her hands. Her stomach grumbled, and she gave Belle an embarrassed look.
“I’ve just realized I never ate dinner,” Irene said.
“Sidney and I hardly touched ours,” Belle told her and made up a plate for them of cheese and crackers, and a few other snacks good for a late night.
They ate and drank in silence, but it was a comfortable silence, nothing like the ones they’d experienced before when sitting together. After a few minutes, Belle’s curiosity got the better of her.
“May I ask you something?” she began, carefully phrasing her question so as not to upset Irene. Now that they were getting along, she had no wish to argue with the woman. Especially when she felt only compassion for her at this moment.
“All right...” Irene said, her voice tense but not angry. “What is it you wish to know?”
Belle pressed her lips. “Why did you go out alone this morning?” Another of Sidney’s snores rattled from his room and she smiled. “I suppose it was yesterday morning now,” she said, amending her question.
Irene inhaled, and for a moment, Belle did not think she would answer her, but then she said, “I wanted to prove to myself that I was not nearly as scared of Marshall as everyone thought I was. I wanted to show you and Sidney, and myself most of all, I suppose, that I was strong enough to face him. That I would not hide or run. That I was not a coward.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“I can understand that,” said Belle. “I think that anybody could.”
“The thing is, I never expected to actually run into him. Not so soon, anyway. I thought...” She shrugged. “I don’t know what I thought, all I know is that he suddenly came toward me, and I was so surprised to see him that I forgot to move. When I finally recollected myself, the first thing I did was try to run. Turns out I’m a coward after all.”
Tears fell down Irene’s face. Belle reached across the table and patted the woman’s hand. “You’re not a coward. I saw you fighting with him. You refused to simply be led away. You even came to my defense when I was in trouble. That’s not cowardice, it’s bravery.”
Irene smiled faintly and cleared her throat.
“It never occurred to me when I left this house that my actions might end up hurting others. If anything had happened to you or Sidney, I don’t know what I’d have done.”
“But nothing did happen,” Belle said.
“But that’s not true. Your wrists, your shoulder—”
“Those are not permanent injuries,” said Belle, cutting her off. “See? The swelling in my wrist is already gone.” She held up her free hand to show Irene. The swelling was indeed gone, though the ache was still there. She said nothing about the pain, however. That would only have made Irene feel worse instead of better.
Irene looked suspiciously at Belle’s wrist but after a moment nodded to herself, as if allowing herself to accept that things were not quite so bad as she’d thought.
“What did Marshall say to you when he first saw you in town?” Belle asked.
“Why does it matter?” Irene asked.
“Amos said any little thing might help. Maybe he said something that could lead us to him.”
“I doubt it.” Irene pursed her lips and took a sip from her teacup, scrunching her face. “You really think that Amos will lock him up if he catches him?”
“Amos is a good man; a man of his word. If he says he’ll do something, you can count on him to do it.”
Irene drew in a breath, and Belle saw the determined look on her face before she even spoke. “He proposed.”
Belle’s eyes widened. “Proposed?” she asked, thinking she’d misheard her.
Irene nodded. “He said he understood now why I’d run from him; that it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with him, but because I was too much of a lady to be with him in any way that might be considered improper. He... he said he admired that about me.”
“Do you believe he meant what he said?” Belle asked, dumbfounded anyone could lie to themselves so easily. How could Marshall believe Irene might really want to be with him?
Irene nodded. “He thought that I was only upset with him because he’d tried to force himself on me before we were married. So, he gave me a ring and asked me to go to the church with him that very moment.”
“What did you say?”
Irene laughed bitterly. “I told him no, of course. I said that he was mad and that if he thought I would ever marry him, he belonged in an institution.”
Belle admired the woman’s courage in speaking so plainly to someone so obviously insane. “I don’t suppose he cared to hear that.”
Irene shook her head. “He started trying to pull me along, to force me to go with him.”
“It would not have mattered if he’d succeeded in getting you to the church,” Belle said. “From what I hear of Reverend Lerner, he would never marry anyone when they were being forced into it. He’s a preacher who believes in love.”
“That’s good to know, I suppose,” said Irene. She let out a sigh and her bottom lip jutted out, quivering as if she were about to start crying again.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Belle said, not minding Irene’s tears, simply wishing to make her feel better. “Has Sidney ever cooked for you?”
Irene shook her head. “Not yet, but he tells me he’s marvelous in the kitchen.”
Belle made a face. “I have no doubt that Sidney believes what he says, but I’m afraid the truth is far less savory. Months ago, when I was in Elmwood the first time, I had occasion to see Sidney help prepare a meal over at his brother’s house. I once saw him use a fork to mash his potatoes, and he added sugar to a beef gravy, thinking it was salt.”
Irene giggled, and Belle smiled at her, happy to have turned her tears into laughter. They sat in the kitchen, tired but not sleepy, until the sun came up. And even then, they refused to go to bed. Sleep had forgotten them, and there was only the new day ahead.
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