"If we are to fight discrimination and injustice against women we must start from the home for if a woman cannot be safe in her own house then she cannot be expected to feel safe anywhere." Aysha Taryam

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XXI.

Cressie's young niece animated chatted about what she was anticipating for the upcoming Season and making oral lists of everything that she would need to procure before their departure.

"Oh, we simply must visit Desjardins as soon as we arrive!" Zara declared insistently. "Everyone at school says that one simply has to be dressed by Belle Desjardins upon their debut. To be seen in anything else is practically a social faux pas!"

Cressie had not been engaged in the conversation with Zara, and not for a lack of interest in what the young lady had to say. Her attention had been listening out for the sounds of gravel under hooves. She could recognise Dabney's footing every time as Everett rode the poor beast as hard as he could.

But her attention had been grabbed upon hearing Belle Desjardins' name. It was a name that had not crossed her mind in several years. Why would it when it was her husband who decided what she wore and when. But the minute she was reminded of the dressmaker, a sudden flurry of memories filled her mind.

"Belle," repeated Cressie, almost dreamily, as she recalled just how instrumental that woman had been to Cressie's happiness for such a short period of time five years earlier.

Zara's blue eyes found Cressie's. "Yes," she confirmed, "Belle Desjardins. Have you heard of her? You must have. All of my school friends, the ones who are coming out this year, are having her make their debutante gowns. I cannot miss out on my chance. What a sight I would be if I were the only one dressed otherwise."

"How would you ever find a husband?" Cressie's question was soft, but facetious. Belle's name had thrown her, but she could see how intent Zara was on being a successful debutante, and an eventual bride. Cressie would have wagered that a daughter like Zara would have been her mother's ideal.

Though, despite her own protestations, Cressie had married at seventeen and had saved their fortunes, just as Mrs Martin had wanted.

This was what Mrs Martin had wanted.

"Exactly!" cried Zara. "I am so pleased you understand. Grandmamma, bless her, doesn't know these things. I am secretly pleased that she is too fragile now to take me to London. And having been a debutante yourself only ... what ... five years ago now? You will know exactly what to do so that I might find myself a husband like Uncle Everett."

Cressie felt her face physically fall, and she could do nothing to stop it. All blood drained from her face as she saw the optimism in Zara's face as she described a husband like her uncle as her ideal. She saw rich and influential in a husband like Everett Delaney. She could not see the chains around Cressie's wrists, ankles, and neck.

Zara needed protecting. Zara could not be failed.

"What is it?" Zara asked.

But at that moment, Cressie heard that all too familiar sound of the gravel crunching. She rose from the wing back chair that she had been occupying and went to the window of the drawing room which overlooked the front of Everett's estate. Galloping down the hedged row was Everett atop Dabney.

It was odd, perhaps, for a gentleman, and particularly one as wealthy as Everett Delaney, to so often travel on horseback and not by carriage. Cressie had certainly wondered about it for a brief time during the early days of their marriage. But the answer had soon come to her without the need to ask. It was clear.

Control.

There was little more that Everett Delaney enjoyed more than controlling everything around him, including the poor horse he would one day bully to death.

"Is that Uncle Everett coming?" Zara asked, coming to the window to stand by Cressie. When she saw her uncle approaching, she gasped gleefully. "Oh, it is! I am so pleased. I cannot wait to start making plans to travel."

Cressie felt her blood cool, as though a dark hand had reached itself inside of her chest to stop it beating. Ice flowed through her veins quickly as her emotions tried to panic her.

But Cressie numbed herself to nullify the dread. It was how she had survived all these years. Nobody was going to save her. Nobody was going to help her. There was no escape. There would be no leaving. She simply had to survive, she had to find a way to live. And the only way to survive was numb herself. She would have died years ago if she had allowed the dread to eat at her soul.

It did not take long for Everett to join the both of them in the drawing room. The moment he crossed the threshold, he removed his hat and welcomed his enthusiastic niece's greeting with a smile. The butler, Burnley, followed his master, and stood by the door.

"Welcome, Zara," he beckoned as he leaned down to allow Zara to kiss his cheek. "You are looking very well. Very much the proper young lady."

Zara beamed at the affirming compliment. "Thank you, Uncle. I am so pleased to be finished with school and to be ready for my debut."

Everett's cool eyes flicked to Cressie, and then they narrowed. She had remained by the window, feet firm in place. "Cressida, come and greet your husband," he instructed in a firm, but almost playful tone for the benefit of his niece.

Everett rarely, if ever, called her anything by 'Cressida' or 'Wife'. Never Cressie. It was childish, he had claimed, and Cressie was secretly grateful. For a man that was her husband, calling her by the name she preferred seemed far too familiar. It was reserved for those she cared for.

But nevertheless, Cressie obeyed him. Her legs began to move, and she crossed the room to Everett, coming to a stop a few feet in front of him. Everett's grey eyes began their usual appraisal of her appearance, certainly searching for any fault, for anything of which he did not approve. He was not above sending her to change.

But he said nothing. His eyes returned to her face, and he stepped forward, suddenly collecting her chin in a pinch between his thumb and forefinger. "Smile," he uttered. His tone might have suggested otherwise, but Cressie knew that it was an order.

Cressie held her breath and smiled. Somehow. She felt the corners of her lips upturn, and she held them in place for a few seconds until Everett was satisfied. When he released her, Cressie immediately put another foot of distance between them and released the breath that she had been holding.

"Mother writes and tells me that you are ready to make your debut, Zara," Everett the addressed his niece.

Zara seemed pleased to have the opportunity to once again speak about the prospect of travelling to London. "Yes!" she said enthusiastically. "Oh, Uncle Everett, I am so excited by the idea. Grandmamma wants Aunt Cressie to chaperone me as well. Won't that be divine?"

Cressie said nothing.

Everett's eyes said everything.

He had known about this. He had clearly received word from his mother and had been mulling over this idea for a while. Of course, he had said nothing to Cressie. This would not be her choice. She could only imagine what he would have been thinking. How could he control her from London? Would Everett even be capable of relinquishing control?

Would Cressie even know what to do with herself without Everett's hand on every choice in her day?

"Burnley," Everett barked, without looking back at the butler.

"Yes, sir?"

"Show Miss Delaney to her room. She will need to wash and change before dinner this evening. We are to have a special welcome meal prepared for her."

Zara did not see that she was being dismissed. She was so excited at the prospect of a meal in her honour that she could not see her uncle desired her gone. Zara dutifully followed the butler out of the drawing room, and the door was closed behind her, leaving Everett and Cressie alone.

The moment the door closed, Cressie felt the temperature in the room drop. A chill washed over her as though she had just lowered herself into an icy bath.

Cressie tangled her fingers together to give them something to do, and to give herself something to focus on other than her husband's intense stare. As she did so, she felt the hard, thin band of gold around her left ring finger. While her chains were invisible, this one was clear for everyone to see. And Zara so eagerly wanted one of her own.

"I have been thinking very – look at me when I am speaking to you!" Everett snapped angrily.

Cressie forced her eyes up, and she met Everett's glare, his brows knitted together in disgust.

"Disrespectful, ungrateful," he muttered under his breath before he continued. "I have been thinking very long about this. Mother has requested that you escort Zara for the Season as she is not able to. There are no other women in the family ranked highly enough. I do not have the time to spend months in London, however."

Cressie could not at all predict where Everett's mind was going to go. Would he allow it?

"So," Everett said, stepping forward to close the distance between them, the distance that Cressie had created, "begs the question, can I trust you?" He came to stand right in front of her, with barely a few inches separating their chests as he looked down upon her. He liked looking down. He liked making Cressie feel small. He had never directly said this, but from the smile that spread across his cheeks during these moments of intimidation, it was not challenging to infer. "Can I, Cressida?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, her voice weak.

Everett sucked in a breath. He was battling with something, and Cressie wagered it was the potential loss of control. "I don't believe you," he suddenly snapped, his voice going from calm to irate in a matter of seconds. "I know what goes on in your little head. Don't you think I don't. I know that you think that you are better than me!" he hissed. He laughed mockingly. "You're nothing. Your entire existence relies upon me and don't you forget that! I have but to snap my fingers and I could have you thrown into an asylum if I wanted to. I keep you here out of kindness. I keep your barren body here because of my own decency."

Cressie said nothing. She gave him nothing. She had fought back before, but fighting often rendered the same result as not. It only made him angrier. This was why she had learned to numb herself. Only she could protect herself.

Her physical existence, perhaps, relied upon Everett. But her sanity and her soul? Those were Cressie's to keep and protect.

She never had to worry about her heart. Everett had never gotten his hands on it, and it had not been in Cressie's possession for a very long time.

Everett clapped his hands on either side of Cressie's face, tangling his fingers in the hair at her temples. His hands entirely captured her head and held it in place as he forced her to stare up at him. "I will know," he uttered. "I will know if you step one toe out of line. Do you understand me?"

With the grip that Everett held, Cressie could not nod. She could not even move her neck. She was forced to say, "Yes." And she did not doubt it. She did not doubt that Everett would find out even if she donned a colour that he did not approve of. 

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Hope you enjoyed it ... in the way that we're returning to London! I wonder what will happen!

This is the last chapter I am posting at the young age of 27. By the time I post the next chapter, I'll be the ripe old age of 28! I can't believe it. That is officially late twenties now. I turn 28 on Tuesday. 

Gosh that's come fast! I'm excited to spend my birthday with my kids though. They're very excited hahaha

But anyways, I'd better get up now and get on with the day! 

Vote and comment!