The Beloved Read Free Page B

shame. I am spared this at least today.
    I sit on the edge of the bed and rub at my wrists. The skin is red and sore and there are welts where the straps have cut into me the deepest. I reach under my pillow for the pot of ointment hidden there. I open it and scoop out a fingerful of the oily cream to smooth on both wrists; it’s cold and soothing. I stole the pot from Mama’s room. It is called Rowlands Kalydor and the label declares it to be ‘a cooling and refreshing milk for the face, hands and arms’. Mama has a dozen of these pots and has not noticed that one is missing yet. Just in time, I hide the pot back under my pillow. The door opens and Lillie comes in with my wash water. ‘Can you open the windows?’ I ask her.
    â€˜But it’s so early,’ she says, looking at me disapprovingly.
    â€˜What of it?’ I say. ‘Open the windows please.’
    Lillie tuts and makes a great show of tugging the curtains across and pushing the windows open a crack.
    â€˜Open them wider,’ I tell her. She looks at me as though I am mad, but pushes the windows open anyway so that a welcome rush of air and the smoke of early morning fires comes swirling in. I feel better now I cannot smell Mama any more.
    Lillie is breezing around the room now. She opens drawers and cupboards and lays an assortment of underclothes on the end of the bed. ‘What gown will you be wearing today, miss?’ she asks me.
    â€˜Whichever one,’ I tell her. ‘I don’t really care.’
    Lillie tuts again. I stand and stretch to try and relieve the aches and soreness in my sides and under my ribs. I pull my nightgown off and walk stiffly to the washstand to begin my morning toilet. Lillie watches me closely. Most of me despises having to wear these dreadful stays, but there is a small part of me that is glad the cursed thing inspires envy in Lillie. She would give her right arm, I know, to be tight-laced, and to swan around in a well-made gown.
    I stay silent as Lillie dresses me in a blue silk. I am so exhausted I can barely lift my arms to push them through the sleeves. Lillie brushes my hair and tugs hard on the knots. I won’t give her the satisfaction of complaining. Eventually I am ready and it is time to go down to breakfast. I hope that Eli will be there. It is too unbearable to think I may have to dine alone with Mama.
    I hear his voice as I near the door to the dining room and the knot in my stomach loosens. It is the first good thing of the day. And every good thing, no matter how small, makes each day easier to live through. As I open the door, I hear him telling Mama of his plans. How he is going for a ride on the moors this morning before lessons with his tutor begin. He stops mid-sentence as I come in the room and he greets me warily. ‘Good morning, Alice.’
    I bend to kiss his cheek and catch my breath as a bone in my stays jabs under a rib. Eli’s brow creases in concern. ‘Are you well?’ he asks.
    â€˜She is quite well,’ says Mama tersely. She ignores me and feasts her eyes on Eli, as if he is the only person in the room. ‘Now,’ she says to him. ‘Finish telling me of your plans.’
    â€˜Yes, Eli,’ I say brightly. ‘Tell us of your plans. It is a beautiful day for riding.’ Mama’s face hardens for an instant. She will punish me for this later. She will punish me for speaking to my own brother and for taking his attention away from her. But I don’t care. I want to hear Eli describe how he will ride like the wind across the wide, open space of the moors into the shadows of the Quantocks; how he will look out for wading birds and maybe stop for a while to watch the peat gatherers. All of me aches to be able to join him. Even though I have never even sat upon a horse, I can imagine the feel of it and the power and the freedom. Eli does not know how fortunate he is.
    I spoon some eggs onto my plate and push them