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It was crawling up her stomach.
With slow, even movements, it inched its way up - unoffending, with its calm, dark eyes blinking up at her.
Even so, her mind was telling her something was wrong; that she should shrink away. But she kept still, trying to smile at the creature. And it continued its crawling, leaving a track of goose pimples on her skin behind.
And then -
The fangs came out in an instant, far quicker than she could have ever moved. It dug its teeth into her neck.
Lucy sucked in a breath as she returned to consciousness, her eyes remaining shut. Immediately, she felt the blood pumping through her body, as well as the heart that was struggling to keep up.
As she tried to steady her breathing, she reoriented herself. She was in her bedroom at Fennsworth House, there was no creature on her neck, and… And there was an arm resting across her stomach, not quite holding her close, but just enough that she felt the weight. And though it was comfortable, it was still too much. She opened her eyes to see the outline of it rise and fall with her breaths.
She was still tired, she could feel the heaviness of it behind her eyes. They yearned to close, and so she let them, eyelids drooping with the promise of sleep. And suddenly, a pit in her stomach ached. Her thoughts and memories raced without intention, and the agony of them was too much to keep her eyes closed.
Carefully, she took the arm off and slipped out of the bed, taking featherlike steps toward the window. The moon was still too high for it to be far into the night, something that always uneased her. There were still too many hours to go until morning. Too many hours of having to deal with the deafening quiet with only her mind to fill it.
As she looked at the sky, her fingertips met her stomach, then her ribs, then her neck; she didn’t use enough pressure to feel pain, but she felt the soreness. The small, blunt bruises that were beginning to form. She blinked – hard – before her eyes fell to the windowsill.
She grasped her wrists, gently at first, before tightening her hold to the point where her hands trembled. Her throat made a small, harrowing sound before she let go.
She’d never forget it - the mixture of terror and acceptance that had run through her when she knew that there was nothing she could do. That her life was not held by her hands, not controlled by her own mind. She was nothing more than a puppet while other people held her strings.
Behind her, she heard the mattress shift, and she turned to see Gregory stirring, his arm reaching out to where she had been.
After they’d managed to get the guests out (Lucy had no idea what had been said, nor what rumors would be flying in the morning), the authorities had been called for Uncle Robert. Lord Haselby and his father had departed not long after the police had left, and then the Bridgertons had been called upon, to discuss how they would all proceed.
Lucy had been shaking when Gregory's brother, Colin, arrived with his wife and mother. Though her belly was filled with relief and joyful flutters, she couldn't look any of them in the eye, even as Gregory explained that they would be getting married. That they were in love. She instead had stared at the table or only at him, softly agreeing when necessary. She was still a bit like that puppet, but one whose strings had been loosened to give her time to adjust.
Only the authorities had asked her for an exact explanation of what had happened, but Lucy knew the questions would come. That she would have to face Richard and Hermione, Gregory, and his family eventually. That it would be horrible and never cease to be, even as the memory faded into nothing more than a dull ache.
The conversations had lasted for a long time, much longer than it had taken for the events of the night before to catch up to her. By the time for supper, Lucy was exhausted and everyone could see it.
No one said anything when Gregory stayed behind after his family left. She knew Richard would not approve, but he said nothing when he retired for the night. It was possible that he wanted her to be alone even less than she did. And despite the issues with propriety, there was no risk. Lucy had hardly even spoken as they went to bed, let alone had the power to do anything else. She just wanted to feel safe, and Gregory’s silent arms around her helped do that.
“Lucy?” Gregory whispered as he sat up.
“I’m here.”
The floor creaked as he stepped on it, slowly making his way toward her. He was wearing an undershirt and breeches, which made her smile slightly despite herself. No matter how unsettled she was feeling, she did love this man with all her heart. There would be no regrets to come from that day.
Tentatively, his hand reached out to touch her arm. “You’re cold.”
She nodded, allowing him to step closer to her. Though it was summer, all she was wearing was a thin nightgown, unable to find herself concerned about modesty. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He ran his hands down her arms, and she saw his face in the moonlight. Just twenty-four hours ago, it had been different. They had been euphoric, giddy. And even though they were in a much better position now, Lucy couldn’t find it in herself to let out the breath that was stuck in her chest.
Her own hand reached up to touch her neck, and Gregory’s eyes followed, face somehow filled with understanding. She stepped closer, until her head was against his chest. “I love you,” she whispered, shutting her eyes.
His arms wrapped around her body, not unlike how the creature in her nightmare had. But his hands were warm, and she did not tense against them. “I love you, too,” he said back, his lips meeting the top of her head. “I love you; I love you.”
And then he held her as she shook.