Chapter 5: The Cost of Survival

Charles, meanwhile, fell mysteriously ill. The rumors started slowly, whispers in the kitchen, sideways glances in the hallway.

It came on subtly. At first, it was just a cough, a bout of sleeplessness. Then the symptoms grew harder to ignore.

For days, the maids on night duty heard the master raging and smashing cups in the bedroom, the couple arguing in low voices. The fights grew louder, the silences longer. The staff walked on eggshells, afraid to draw attention.

Word eventually reached Mrs. Whitaker, who called for a doctor. The doctor came and went, his face grave. The diagnosis was whispered behind closed doors.

That’s when they learned he was impotent. The news hit the family like a thunderbolt. Charles Whitaker, the golden boy, undone by an invisible enemy.

The only legitimate son, now unable to father children—if this affected the family line, the entire estate might go to distant relatives. The stakes were higher than ever. The future of the Whitaker name hung in the balance.

Mrs. Whitaker was furious and summoned Evelyn for a thorough scolding. Her voice echoed through the house, sharp and unforgiving. Evelyn wilted under her gaze.

“I never interfered when you refused to let the housemaids become companions or bear children. But now you haven’t had a son yourself, and you’ve even brought bad luck to my son! What are you up to, Evelyn?” The accusation was clear: Evelyn’s ambition had become her undoing.

Evelyn was left speechless. For the first time, she had no answer. Her confidence crumbled, leaving only fear and regret.

Her greatest pride had always been her “perfect childbearing face.” She’d believed in her destiny, in the fortune-teller’s promises. Now, all of it seemed like a cruel joke.

The fortune-teller said she was destined to have five sons. She’d clung to those words, repeating them like a prayer. Now, they felt empty.

That’s why she never hesitated to force the housemaids to drink the medicine. She’d thought she was protecting her place, her future. Instead, she’d destroyed everything she loved.

But she never imagined that before she could even start her son-bearing mission, her precious husband would be the one to have problems. The irony was bitter. She’d spent so long guarding her throne, only to find it crumbling beneath her feet.

With tears in her eyes, she promised, “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll cure him.” Her voice shook, her hands trembling. I almost felt sorry for her—almost.

Standing in the flickering candlelight, I allowed myself the faintest smile. For the first time in months, I felt a sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would change.

With this disaster, the plans to claim me were put on hold. I breathed easier, grateful for the reprieve. Every day without his touch felt like a gift.

Evelyn searched everywhere for remedies for her husband, but nothing worked. She tried every old wives’ tale, every quack cure the town had to offer. Nothing made a difference.

Eventually, she heard that the St. Anne’s Church was famous for its prayers for children, so she took me and Julia up the hill to pray. The church stood on the edge of town, its white steeple visible for miles. The walk was long, the air crisp and clear.

Halfway up, a band of men suddenly burst from the woods, waving green bandanas. The shouts echoed through the trees, the sound of boots on gravel sending birds scattering.

Bandits. The words sent a jolt of fear through me. Julia clutched my arm, her face pale.

Julia tried to comfort her. “Don’t worry, ma’am. My mother said that robbers with green bandanas only want money. If we give them our jewelry and cash, they’ll leave us alone.” Her voice was steady, but I could see the tremor in her hands.

Evelyn’s brows snapped together. She glared at Julia, her pride wounded. She hated feeling powerless more than anything.

“I’m the mistress of a prominent house. If I show myself to the robbers, my reputation will be ruined.” She spoke with the certainty of someone who’d never known real danger. Her concern was always for appearances, never for lives.

“Besides, all my jewelry is either part of my dowry or gifts from my husband. Why should I let robbers have them?” She clutched her purse tighter, her lips pressed into a thin line. The thought of losing her treasures was unbearable.

The next moment, she suddenly shoved us both off the carriage. I stumbled, landing hard on the gravel. Julia cried out, clutching her ankle.

“You must put the greater good first. The mistress’s reputation is more important than anything. If you die to protect your master, it’s your good fortune. The Whitaker family will remember your loyalty.” Her words rang in my ears, cold and final. In that moment, I understood exactly what we meant to her—nothing at all.

With that, she ordered the driver to speed up, quickly disappearing into the woods. The carriage vanished around the bend, leaving us alone on the side of the road, the sound of hooves fading into silence.

Somewhere between the trees and the dust, something in me hardened.