“So, Miss Fitzhenry,” Beatrix said, icy disdain dripping from her every word. “Do you think you can land this fish? Or will you admit that you are out of your depth?”
Bella drew herself up as straight and tall as she could. She managed to look Beatrix square in the eye, even though Mira could see that Bella’s hands and chin were trembling. Mira had to admire Bella’s display of courage. Who would have thought that spoiled little Bella had such pluck?
“My lady,” Bella choked out, before her voice cracked two octaves high. She swallowed visibly, and started again. “My lady, I do not believe I am out of my depth. In fact, I believe the, uh, fish is mine for the taking.”
Without warning, Beatrix’s hand flew up, and she struck Bella soundly across the face. The snap of skin on skin was deafening.
After a beat of breathless silence, Bella gasped. The air made a watery sound as she inhaled past welling tears. Already, the faint imprint of Beatrix’s hand was surfacing on Bella’s delicate skin.
Kitty stepped forward, maneuvering herself between Beatrix and Bella. Her face reflected anger and shock and fear in equal measures, but, no matter how powerful Lady Beatrix was, Kitty would not allow anyone to abuse her baby.
Kitty had no chance to do more than shelter her child with her own body before Bella lifted the hem of her gossamer gown and, with an inarticulate sound of misery, dashed from the room.
Almost instinctively, Mira took a step to follow her, but then she stopped to look at Lady Beatrix.
Her expression was perfectly blank and bloodless, her pale features gone to chalk. But her eyes were wide, and beneath the unnaturally placid surface, Mira glimpsed a frenzied confusion simmering in their depths. A tremor gripped Beatrix’s hand, which still hung in the air as though prepared to deliver another blow.
Taking another step toward the door, Mira paused long enough to bob a quick curtsy. “Excuse me,” she muttered, then fled the room in search of Bella.
Mira found Bella at the top of the main stairs. Tears were pouring down her face. She whimpered quietly as she looked from left to right, obviously unsure about which hallway led to her room.
Bella started when Mira laid a hand on her shoulder to gently steer her in the right direction.
“She hit me,” Bella said, her voice soft with amazement. “She hit me.”
“Are you all right? I… She should not have done that. I cannot imagine what came over her.” Mira cringed at the small broken sounds her cousin was making.
Again, Bella surprised Mira by swiping at the tears on her face and, with a sniff and a shake of her head, pulling herself together.
“I will be fine,” she said, her voice stronger already.
“Good,” Mira responded with a smile of encouragement. “You should go to bed now. You will feel much better in the morning. And, by then, all will be forgotten.” It was a lie, but it was a small one, and it would help Bella get through the evening. Mira grasped Bella’s shoulders lightly and pointed her down the proper hallway, then turned toward her own bedchamber.
“Mira?”
Mira stopped.
“Mira, with Lady Beatrix so set against me, I cannot risk her turning Jeremy against me, too. I have to act now. Quickly. Now there is simply no question: Jeremy and I must elope on Friday night. And you will help me.” Bella’s voice resonated with her newfound strength and determination, and Mira watched in wonder as her eyes turned cold and hard behind the lingering shimmer of tears.
With a strange sense of detachment, Mira nodded. She still thought the elopement ill-advised, but what could she do? Bella did not really need Mira’s help, but she did need Mira’s support. Someone’s support. After Lady Beatrix’s outrageous conduct, Mira could not bring herself to deny her cousin such a simple thing.
If Bella found herself in a desperate situation in the future—a likely prospect, under the circumstances—she would need some family member to whom she could turn. It was a small thing, to allow Bella to hide her luggage, and it might salvage her fragile link with her family, allow her someday to seek help without losing her pride.
Bella did not offer thanks, or even a smile. Instead, she nodded grimly, turned on her dainty heel, and marched away.