Page 23 of The Forgotten
Quinn let out a shaky laugh. He’d done it before, when he was hardly more than a boy, and he’d likely done it since. Few women reported an assault, especially when their story could be torn apart by a clever lawyer, as hers would be if she filed a complaint, had Chatham actually managed to rape her. She would be made to look like a total slag; a woman who flirted with a man, went up to his room, and allowed him to touch her and kiss her before suddenly changing her mind and calling the man’s amorous advances an assault. No one would believe her, as no one believed the countless women who’d been raped and were told that it was all their fault and they had it coming. Quinn suddenly understood why Sylvia, being only seventeen, never filed a report. Bringing her attackers to justice wouldn’t undo what had been done, but she’d have been dragged through the mud, probed, examined, and humiliated, and that’s even before the trial began. Quinn managed to calm herself by the time the lift reached the lobby. She collected her coat, settled into a taxi, and closed her eyes, grateful beyond words to be going home to Gabe.
TWENTY-ONE
The room was dark when Quinn let herself in. Gabe must have fallen asleep, which was just as well, since she was in no mood to discuss the night’s events. She kicked off her shoes, then took off the dress and threw it on a chair. She didn’t think she’d want to wear it ever again. It felt tainted, stained with deceit and shame. Perhaps she’d give it to Jill and ask her to sell it in her vintage clothing shop. Someone else might enjoy it, not knowing its brief, but unpleasant history. Quinn pulled on Gabe’s T-shirt and inhaled its comforting smell. It smelled of Gabe’s aftershave and his own unique scent and felt warm and soft against her skin. Gabe’s arm instantly encircled her when she climbed into bed, his lips brushing her temple in the darkness.
“Go back to sleep,” Quinn said, but Gabe was suddenly wide awake, his eyes blazing with anger as he rolled her onto her back and loomed above her, his face bone-white in the moonlight streaming through the net curtains.
“What’s the matter?” Quinn asked, alarmed. She instinctively pressed her hands against Gabe’s chest to push him off, realizing that this was the second time that night that she felt physically threatened by a man, and hating the feeling of helplessness. She knew Gabe wouldn’t hurt her, but there was something in his eyes that scared her nonetheless.
“You reek of another man,” Gabe spat out. Quinn could see the fury building within him. He was jealous.
“Stop carrying on like some primal alpha male,” Quinn retorted. “Chatham tried to kiss me. I pushed him away.”
“Really?” Gabe growled as he pulled down the T-shirt and lowered his head to her breasts. Quinn felt a twinge of panic, realizing that Chatham’s aftershave lingered on her skin. He’d been all over her, and she was as tainted as the dress she longed to be rid of.
Gabe looked up at her. His expression was one of incredulity and shock. Quinn opened her mouth to say something, but the pain in his eyes shut her up. He didn’t believe her. Quinn knew she should be angry, but she could hardly blame him. The physical evidence spoke for itself.
“Gabe, nothing happened. I couldn’t get a sample from him at the party, so I went up to his room to see if I could find something in the bathroom. He tried to get it on, but I pushed him off and left before things could get out of hand.”
“And he just allowed you to walk away?” Gabe asked. His eyes were narrowed in speculation. He doubted her explanation, and with good reason.
“Not exactly. I had to threaten him,” Quinn confessed.
“With what?” Gabe spat out.
“With the truth. I implied that I knew what he’d done to Sylvia, and that it wouldn’t go well for him if I leveled an accusation of assault against him. I threatened to expose him in front of his business associates.”
Gabe looked stunned. He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans, shirt, and shoes, and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. Quinn felt as if he’d slammed the door in her face. She hadn’t betrayed him in any way. She explained what happened. Why was he so angry? Quinn threw off the blanket and stormed into the bathroom. She needed to wash the stink of RobertChatham off her body. She hoped the hot shower would help her calm down and get to sleep. She just wanted this day to end.
Two hours later, Quinn was still wide awake and alone. She’d hoped that Gabe would go outside, walk until his anger cooled, and come back feeling penitent, but Gabe hadn’t returned. She’d called him, but his mobile began to vibrate on the bedside table, rendering him unreachable. Quinn turned on the bedside lamp and padded over to the closet. Gabe’s keys were still in his coat pocket, so he couldn’t have gone far, not on foot, and not without a coat.
“It’s two in the morning, Gabe. Where are you?” Quinn moaned miserably as she attempted to beat her pillow into submission. “Come back.”
Quinn reached over to the nightstand and took Petra’s cross out of the plastic bag. Perhaps focusing on someone else’s troubles would make her own seem less significant. It was a callous thought, but Quinn was past caring.
TWENTY-TWO
FEBRUARY 1347
Dunwich, Suffolk
Petra nearly dropped the bowl of buttered peas when she heard the sound of the iron knocker. She took a deep breath, set the bowl on the table, and nodded to Nan to go and open the door. She thought she could do this, but suddenly her knees turned to jelly, and she felt as if she were breathing, but the air wasn’t quite reaching her lungs.
Get a hold of yourself,Petra thought savagely as she smoothed down her skirts and checked that her headdress was on straight. She walked out of the kitchen, looking as serene as she could manage while her heart hammered painfully in her chest. She tried to focus on trivial domestic tasks to distract herself from her impending meeting with Avery. The vile smell had been aired out, the meal was nearly ready, and Lady Blythe was asleep, having somewhat recovered from her bilious attack. Petra had swept away the old rushes and replaced them with new, sweet-smelling ones at the last minute. She hoped that her employer would not reprimand her for being wasteful, since the old rushes might have lasted another fortnight or so, but the scent of sweet flag mixed with herbs was pleasant and comforting.
Father Avery was in the parlor, his back to her as he warmed his hands by the fire. His shoulders were slightly stooped, and he looked thinner than the last time Petra had seen him. Her heart contracted with affection for him, and she felt a tell-tale blush creeping up her cheeks despite all her efforts at remaining aloof.
“Good day to you, Father,” Petra said. Her voice shook, but Father Avery didn’t seem to notice. He whirled about at the sound of her voice and stared, open-mouthed, for just a moment before composing himself. He seemed to recognize her, but Petra couldn’t be sure.
“Good day. I was invited by Lady Blythe. Are you her companion?” he asked as he drew closer. Petra was about to reply when she heard Nan coming up behind her and reconsidered her answer. Nan was a good girl but fond of idle gossip and lurid tales. It was best to pretend that Petra and Avery had never met, at least until later.
“Yes, Father. Mistress Ordell is the name,” Petra replied, bowing respectfully to the priest. “I’m afraid Lady Blythe has been taken ill, but she bid me to welcome you and join you for dinner.”
“I do hope it’s nothing serious,” Father Avery said, looking concerned.
“A bilious attack. She’s on the mend but still weak. Won’t you join me in the dining hall?” Petra asked, giving Nan a stern look. The girl was too nosy for her own good. She should have been in the kitchen, instead she was standing behind Petra, gawking at Father Avery like a love-stricken tavern wench.
Father Avery followed Petra into the room, which was dominated by a long, wooden table made of dark wood. Twenty hardback chairs stood at attention, waiting to receive guests, but only two places were set. There was a time when Lady Blythe’s husband held lavish dinners for his friends and associates, but it’d been a long while since the dining hall had been used for its original purpose. Petra and Father Avery took their seats and made polite small talk while Nan set food on the table and departed with a modest curtsy.
