The Debt of Silence

Arthur picked up Alexander’s business card from the bedside table and turned it over between his fingers.

“Why did you keep this?”

“He gave it to me at the luncheon. I put it away with my sketchbook.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t find it?”

“I wasn’t hiding it from you,” I said. The words felt thin the moment they left my mouth. He had already decided what the card meant.

He laughed once, short and empty, and slipped the card into his pocket. “You expect me to believe you kept another man’s contact for no reason?”

“I haven’t contacted him. I told you that.”

“Then you won’t mind me keeping this. Stay away from Alexander Kane. I won’t say it again.”

He turned and left. I stayed where I was, staring at the empty doorway long after his footsteps faded. Alexander had given me pencils and paper and a reason to keep drawing. Arthur had turned it into another crime. He had never once asked why I spent so many hours alone in this house, why the silence pressed on me until I could barely breathe. He only cared when someone else noticed I existed.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the day. The next afternoon I heard Victoria tell a housemaid that Mr Oliver would be arriving. My stomach tightened at the name. Last time, he had touched my face and told me I was beautiful while I stood rigid under his hand. I told myself he would stay with Arthur. I was wrong.

Not long after he arrived, a maid came upstairs. Mr Oliver wanted me in the study.

I smoothed my dress and went down. Refusing would only give Arthur another reason to look at me the way he looked at a problem he intended to solve.

Mr Oliver stood by the desk. He closed the file in front of him, looked me over, then gestured to the chair.

“Come in, Sophie. Sit.”

I sat opposite him, knees together, hands in my lap. “You wanted to see me?”

“Arthur says you’re still making things difficult. Questioning him. Arguing when you should be quiet.”

“I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“Then stop giving him reasons to complain.” He came around the desk. His expression changed, and the politeness left his face. “I also hear you’ve been receiving gifts from Alexander Kane.”

“Drawing materials. He saw my work at the luncheon. That was all.”

“You sound very eager to defend him.”

“There’s nothing to defend.”

He stopped beside my chair. Close enough that I could smell the faint bite of whiskey on his breath. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Sophie. It’s a shame Arthur doesn’t know what to do with what he has.”

I stood at once. “This isn’t appropriate.”

He reached for my arm. I pulled back. “Don’t be nervous. I’m only being kind.”

“I want to go back to my room.”

His face hardened. “I’m not finished.”

“I don’t want to stay.”

I turned toward the door. His hand closed around my wrist and yanked me back so hard that I stumbled into the edge of the desk. The wood dug into the backs of my thighs. Before I could pull away, he crowded against me. His mouth came down, but I turned my face, and his lips dragged wetly across my cheek and jaw. One hand kept my wrist pinned while the other shoved beneath the front of my dress, his palm rough against my breast, his fingers digging in through the thin fabric.

“Stop—let go of me—”

He ignored me. His body pressed against mine, forcing my legs apart against the desk. His hand tightened over my breast, his thumb pressing hard against it as I struggled to pull away. I could feel the heat of his palm, the scrape of his nails, and the weight of him trapping me. My stomach turned. This was Arthur’s father. A man the whole house bowed to. And he was holding me down, touching me, breathing against my neck as though he had every right.

“Please,” I said, my voice cracking. “Don’t.”

He didn’t stop. His hand left my breast and moved lower, dragging my skirt up as his fingers travelled over my thigh and pushed higher.

I drove my free hand against his chest. He staggered half a step, loosening his grip, and I twisted my wrist free. I stumbled backward until my shoulders hit the wall.

“Don’t ever touch me again.”

His expression went cold. “Lower your voice.”

I kept my eyes on him and backed toward the door. My hand found the handle. I yanked it open and stepped into the passage.

“Not a word about this to anyone,” he called after me. “Do you understand?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My legs carried me up the stairs on pure instinct. By the time I reached my room my hands were shaking so badly the key scraped and slipped before it finally turned. I locked the door, leaned my forehead against the wood, and tried to breathe. The place on my wrist throbbed. My breast ached where he had squeezed. I could still feel the ghost of his fingers on my thigh. I rubbed at the skin until it hurt, as if I could scrub the sensation away.

I wanted to tell someone. There was no one. Arthur would say I had provoked it. Victoria would protect her husband. Elena would use it against me. The thought of speaking the words aloud made bile rise in my throat.

My eyes landed on the box of drawing materials under the bed. I pulled it out and sat on the floor beside it. Alexander had looked at my sketches without laughing. He had listened. He had given me something of my own. Arthur had taken the card, but I still remembered the address.

I tore a clean sheet from the sketchbook. My hand was steadier by the time I finished.

Alexander,

I need your help. I am not safe in this house, and I cannot explain everything in a letter. Please meet me in the garden at 2 a.m. on the morning after you receive this letter. I need to get away. Please come alone.

Sophie.

I read it twice, folded it, and placed it in an envelope. I wrote the office address from his business card on the front before sealing it. Arthur would be furious if he found out. The fear of his anger no longer outweighed the fear of staying.

The next morning, I waited until the house was busy. When a housemaid came to collect the laundry, I asked if the driver was going into town.

“He’ll be leaving shortly, madam,” she replied.

I handed her the sealed letter. “Please give this to the driver. I need him to deliver it to the office address written on the envelope today.”

“Is it important, madam?”

“Yes. Please make sure he gets it.”

She nodded and took it with her.

I watched her leave, hoping Alexander would receive it before the day was over. I had no way of knowing what he would do after reading it, but I had to take the chance.

I spent the rest of the day trying to look normal. Every footstep in the corridor made my stomach clench. By evening I went downstairs for water just to move, just to prove I could still walk through the house without falling apart.

The hallway was quiet when I came back from the kitchen. I had almost reached the stairs when someone stepped out of the side passage and stopped directly in my path.

Julian.

I froze. He looked at me, then at the staircase, then back at my face.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, Sophie?”

“Back to my room.”

He shifted so he blocked the steps completely. “You spend a lot of time avoiding people lately.”

“I have nothing to say to you. Let me pass.”

He looked me over, then his gaze settled on my hands. I was still holding the empty glass. My fingers had gone white around it.

“You’ve been acting strange. Something going on?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

I tried to step around him. He moved with me, still in the way. The faint amusement left his face.

“You seem to have forgotten what I told you.”

I remembered the last time—his voice low, the way he had stood too close, the warning he had given me about what would happen if I caused trouble. My throat tightened.

He took another step closer, leaving barely any space between us. He lifted a hand toward my arm but stopped short of touching me.

“I saw the maid leave with a letter this morning,” he said quietly. “Care to tell me who it was for?”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I opened my mouth. No sound came out.

Julian’s fingers closed around my wrist, right over the place Mr Oliver had bruised the previous afternoon, and tightened.

“We’re going to talk,” he said. “Right now. And you’re not going anywhere until I decide we’re finished.”