Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Silent Defiance
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Bright lamp light poured down on Beth, collapsed on the bed. Before her mind could even fully clear, someone grabbed her arm and hauled her upright.
Beth flinched for an instant, wondering if it was that man, but she went limp at the gentle touch of a woman's hand. The drug coursing through her veins had sapped even the strength to resist.
"We'll help you wash up."
Two maids gripped her arms like supports and opened the door.
Beth whipped around, suddenly thinking of Luca, but he wasn't in the room.
"We don't have much time."
With the maid's low urging, Beth had no choice but to step forward. Her legs, walking properly for the first time since the train ride here, trembled feebly beneath her.
The maid supported her gently, without a hint of complaint.
The scenery beyond the unfamiliar room was the complete opposite of what Beth had expected. Antique picture frames lined the corridor walls, and the footsteps of servants echoed from the base of the stairs.
Still, with most of the corridor windows curtained off, all the hallway lamps were lit despite it being daytime.
After locking the bathroom door, the maid reached for Beth's clothes. Beth waved her hands, blocking any touch on her body.
"We've prepared fresh clothes over there. But we'll have to help you bathe, miss."
Miss? The unfamiliar word made Beth's hands pause, though she couldn't ask about it.
Beth silently turned her back and undressed. She buried the brooch from her pocket deep in the pile of clothes.
The intermittent splash of water roused Beth as her eyelids flickered with drowsiness. The drug permeating her body refused to fade easily.
Lukewarm streams poured over her skin, and the fragrant scent of oil lingered in the steamy air as Beth wandered through dreams.
"Miss, you need to wear this."
The bathroom led into a powder room.
The maid gently stopped Beth's hand as it reached for her shabby nurse's uniform. Hanging there was a neatly folded indoor dress.
Beth pointed to herself once, then to the door. The maid pondered the gesture for a moment before nodding.
"We'll wait right outside the door. But Count Howard will be here soon, so please hurry."
Beth nodded.
Once the door closed, Beth unwrapped the towel around her. In the brief time she'd dozed off, they'd doused her in oil—her hair from roots to tips reeked of flowers, enough to make her head throb.
As she dressed, Beth's eyes scanned restlessly for a place to hide the brooch. Or at least a chain to hang it from.
But nothing suitable caught her eye.
"Miss, jewelry is in the vanity drawer."
At the maid's timely words, Beth yanked open the drawer. It was filled with earrings and bracelets, but no hooks or chains to conceal a brooch.
There was, however, a single hair clip.
Beth gathered her loosened long hair and twisted it up. She secured the bun firmly with the clip several times, then slipped the small brooch into the center. Wedged against the clip's gems, it stayed put even when she shook her head.
Checking from every angle in the mirror, the brooch remained hidden beneath her thick locks.
Beth stared at her face for a moment. Fresh from the bath, her clear complexion looked even paler than on the battlefield, utterly sickly.
It was hard to believe this was the same face Dixie had dolled up for her.
So ugly.
"Miss! The count is here!"
The maid's voice grew urgent.
Beth stepped out and glanced around. Footsteps thudded as Count Howard approached from the end of the corridor, brazen as ever—the man who'd killed her mother as good as.
He looked no different than he had twenty years ago.
"Beth, is your mind clear now? Do you feel like talking?"
Beth nodded slowly.
"Good news, then. The doctor's here with me just in time. I hope for even better tidings."
"What nonsense is this?!"
Howard slammed the table with a crash. The teacup toppled, cold tea dripping from the edge, but no servant dared approach.
"Her vocal cords are fine, her wits intact—why can't she speak?!"
"W-well..."
The poor doctor sweated profusely, glancing at the count.
"Diseases of the throat... the mind plays a big role too."
"Hah, the mind?"
Howard snorted derisively at Beth, as if it were absurd.
"She plays obedient well enough, but that stubborn streak won't break, eh?"
Howard's brow furrowed suddenly. In an instant, the kindly middle-aged count's face twisted into that of a thuggish street rat.
That was Howard's true face.
At least in this space, he made no effort to restrain his temper.
"If you crawled in here on your own two feet to guard your corpse of a mother's body, then do your damn job."
Howard growled, seizing Beth's delicate chin in a brutish grip. Her pitch-black eyes glared up at him, piercing.
"Insolent brat!"
Unable to hold back, his hand flew across her cheek.
Beth swallowed a groan of pain, grateful Luca wasn't there. If he had been, the boy's face wouldn't have survived intact.
"Must you make her speak by force?"
It was the woman who'd appeared with Howard since their arrival here.
Not in a dark robe this time, but an elegant indoor dress—she looked every bit the respectable noblewoman.
"Oh, Madam Howard. Good day."
"Spare me that horrific title, please. At least in this house, I never want to hear it."
The woman coolly rebuffed the doctor's greeting.
"Social season's coming up soon. Don't waste energy on nonsense."
"You know nothing!"
Howard exploded in frustration.
"Forgot how ghost-like Dever is? Crazier than Cassius! And you want me to stick this dimwit next to him, leaving a paper trail?!"
The teacup shattered against the wall, a piercing crash ringing in their ears.
"Might as well offer up our heads on a platter!"
"Looks like this year's a bust."
Madam Howard spat the curse and stormed out, deeming further talk pointless. The doctor slunk away after her.
Alone with Beth, Howard caught his excited breath.
"Child."
In that instant, goosebumps erupted across Beth's skin.
The memory she'd thought forgotten resurfaced in a flash.
'Child.'
"Listen well."
'Listen well.'
Howard's eyes gleamed.
"I never forget the past. The day your mother ended up like that—no, the day you made her that way—I remember it all."
His rough hand rose to Beth's slender nape. Like severing a beast's tendon, his thumb pressed hard into the pulsing artery.
"If you don't want to repeat it..."
Even holding her breath, her pulse raced uncontrollably.
"Speak. Become Beth Howard, Beth Jens."
In the end, the doctor and Howard left empty-handed, not even hearing a dying gasp from Beth's lips.
The room plunged back into thick darkness.
Luca no longer came.
Instead, a tailor and Howard barged in once a day to torment her. The tailor shoved ill-fitting gaudy dresses at her; Howard shook her face, demanding a single word.
But even that lasted less than a week.
Realizing no sound would escape her lips, Howard stopped coming.
In the room where time seemed frozen, Beth could do nothing but sleep and wake. Not even that on her own terms.
The evening meal tray always carried a sedative, and the maid wouldn't leave until she'd eaten it.
Beth dragged her hazy body up and huddled in the corner. Then came a creak, followed by small footsteps.
"It's Luca..."
It was a voice near death.
Beth staggered toward him.
Her eyes, accustomed to the dark, quickly made out Luca's face. His delicate features were covered in bruises, scratches everywhere.
[Who did this to you]
"Only Count Howard could do this here."
Beth slowly clenched her open palm.
Luca fumbled with his pant cuff, rolling it up. A thin chain was wrapped around his ankle, hidden beneath the baggy hem.
"I happened to go to the maids' room and found it there."
Luca lied. He didn't say he'd torn it from the clothes of the man beating him in the basement.
"It's long enough that even if you hang the brooch on it and hide it in your clothes, it won't show."
Beth numbly took the silver chain.
Luca beamed. It was a pure smile, even in the darkness.
"Payment for my name."
Beth crawled clumsily to the bedside. Her fingers closed around the brooch hidden between the bed frame and mattress. Clutching it tight, she shuffled to the opposite wall and leaned against it.
Knees drawn up to hide her brooch-gripping hand, Beth forced her lips into a smile. Luca mirrored it brightly, then winced as his split lip stung.
Beth closed her eyes.
I have to speak. I have to speak.
She parted her lips and exhaled sharply. Only faint breath escaped—no voice.
Beth jabbed the brooch's sharp point hard under her fingernail. Her mind sharpened with the pain; she strained her throat again.
Still, only a raspy scrape. The brooch dug mercilessly into her nailbed.
She kept stabbing through the night until dawn.
Day broke, then night fell again.
Luca was dragged out by a maid, returned battered anew.
Through those horrific, monotonous days, Beth never released her grip on the brooch.
Not until the maid dropped off breakfast and gasped at Beth's bloodied hands.
I have to speak.
I have to speak.
Beth repeated it endlessly.