Chapter 93

She glanced down at their joined hands.

His hand had closed around her wrist, banded around her limb like a shackle and the pressure from his grip was uncomfortable enough to make her instinctively try to ease her arm away.

Still, he did not release her.

Mabel looked up at his to gauge if he was still upset with her. She might have offended him more than she thought and this was his way of showing his frustrations with her.

Dear God, she had not even gotten to her destination yet and she was already being a disappointment.

Something cold stirred in her stomach.

"Mr. Crane?" She tried again, weakly. Her voice might have been louder if she was already shaking with nerves.

He did not answer, just continued walking.

The ship ahead of them was larger than any vessel Mabel had ever seen from such a distance, finer too. Nowhere the likes of her should be.

She stared at it uncertainly as he led her toward the gangplank, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Her thoughts tangled as they stepped aboard.

She wanted to ask again, but Mr. Crane was already leading her below deck.

The passage was narrow and dim, nothing like the comfortable carriage she had left behind. Mabel’s uneasiness deepened with every step, yet she still struggled to give a name to what she was feeling.

Fear seemed too strong a reaction.

Suspicion seemed unfair.

Finally, they reached his intended destination, a sparsely furnished cabin, and he plunked her down on the only other available seat there.

"You look pale." He said and he sounded concerned.

His contradictory actions only left her more confused. One moment, he was annoyed and brusque with her; the next, he was showing genuine concern. Which of these was how he truly felt?

He was gone for a moment, leaving her there alone. When Mr. Crane returned, and he offered her a drink.

Mabel accepted the cup automatically, not wanting to seem rude. The cup was hot but not enough to scald her hand.

"I am only tired, Sir. That’s all." She said hurriedly.

"Then this will help." He nodded to the cup in her hand.

She took a sip, recognizing the beverage as coffee from the only other occasion on which she had tasted it. Yet when the flavor reached her tongue, she was surprised to find it lacked the bitterness she remembered. Mr. Crane must have sweetened it with sugar just for her.

She swallowed another mouthful and handed the cup back.

For a little while, nothing happened.

She tried to get to her feet but his firm hands were instantly on her shoulders, forcefully shoving her back down. The roughness startled her.

Meeting his gaze, she gasped. Standing before her now wasn’t the same man that fetched her from her parent’s house. Without the kind expression he wore for her benefit, Mr. Crane looked like a different person entirely. Cruel and sinister.

"You are not to move from that spot." It was an order, a harsh command. His flinty stare promised punishment if she disobeyed.

With him standing guard over her, it was impossible to slip out. Still she tried.

The moment the horror of her situation dawned on her, she jumped to her feet and bolted for the door like the hounds of hell were after her.

But Mabel didn’t get far. She screamed and thrashed as he caught hold of her and dragged her back, his grips now proper shackles keeping her from her freedom.

Foolishly, she hoped that if she struggled hard enough, screamed loud enough, someone might hear and come to her rescue but her fate was sealed the moment she stepped into his carriage that morning.

Were the other people on the ship deaf to her screams or did they hear and chose to ignore it?

Her usual timidness had fizzled into smoke, leaving behind a woman desperate and without inhibition. She fought with all her might, refusing to be subdued despite his superior strength. She kicked, scratched, and beat at him with every ounce of strength she possessed.

When her nails raked across his cheek, drawing blood, he recoiled with a sharp hiss and pressed a hand to his face. His eyes flashed with fury.

"Damn you, you bitch!"

Before she could react, his palm struck her across the face. The force of the blow sent her sprawling, her head striking the floor as she fell. For a moment, everything seemed to swim around her. Her vision blurred, and she struggled to gather her bearings.

That brief disorientation was all he needed. He seized her before she could recover, forcing her arms behind her and pinning her down. She struggled beneath him, but the strength that had driven her moments earlier had begun to desert her.

With her head still swimming, she could do little as he restrained her and tied her up.

She remained bound and immobile on the floor, unable to do anything but listen. Before long, she felt a faint vibration beneath her, followed by the unmistakable groan of the ship. The vessel was moving. They were pulling away from the dock.

Her panic ratcheted higher. She had expected terror to consume her now that escape was no longer possible, but instead of the overwhelming fear she had braced herself for, something unusual overtook her.

A strange heaviness settled over her limbs. Her vision began to blur, and the room seemed to sway around her.

Mabel blinked against the sudden assault on her senses.

She reached for the nearest surface, something solid that she might use to steady her, as off-kilter as if she was being swept up by churning waves.

"No. God, no." She muttered and to her horror, her voice slurred.

She felt sick. It was difficult to focus on anything.

Her thoughts became sluggish, confused, and she suddenly understood that her situation was much worse than she first thought.

The last thing she remembered was Mr. Crane crouching down beside her, a sneer on his lips.

When Mabel opened her eyes again, darkness surrounded her.

For several moments she could not understand where she was.

The first sensation she became aware of was movement. The steady, uneven jolt of wheels travelling over a rough road.