Forbidden Nights

By Brenda Bailey

Spending her days tending the sick, taking care of the frail and the elderly, beautiful Belinda was used to the hard work that came with being a nurse. When she was hired to take care of Madam Joyce McGee, the wealthy and high-born mistress of the famed Iron Gate Manor, she thought she had landed her dream job.
Never could she have imagined that the renowned Madam Joyce was not only an overweight woman trapped in a life filled with desperation with an attitude of self entitlement, but she was rapt in a marriage of convenience to Nathan Satineer, a four-hundred year old vampire of the wealthy Satineer clan.
When Nathan met his wife’s sick nurse, he was taken by her charm and sweet innocence, awakening a fierce longing in him that lay dormant for much too long.
It was wrong, he knew, but when he met the fiery redhead, he vowed to make her his at any cost.
Belinda found herself falling in love with an aristocratic vampire whose strength was tempered by tenderness, whose warmth she found both refuge and passion.
Together, they stole away whenever they can in Nathan’s bed chamber to share blood and intense lovemaking in their secret, forbidden nights.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Bailey
• Release date: Aug 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301077854

Brenda Bailey

I live in Rural Indiana. I read and write erotic horror novels! Visit my official website to browse my novels in print. "Leave behind the ordinary and join me in the horrific." -Brenda Bailey

Book preview

Forbidden Nights

Brenda Bailey

Published by Horrorotica @ Smashwords.com

Copyright 2013 Brenda Bailey Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Chapter 1

Creeping into the cottage late at night, Belinda welcomed the cheery glow of the fire that danced in the inglenook.

With a long and drawn out sigh, she hung her coat and satchel on the hooks behind the door and went to the fireplace to get warm.

Belinda, is that you?

Yes, Mother. She said low, forcing a smile when her mother emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel.

I see you’re finally home. Mrs. Jenkins has passed on?

Belinda nodded, feeling forlorn. She knew, being the elderly Mrs. Jenkins’ nurse for the past three months that it was best when the old and sickly woman finally passed away. Now, free of pain, she was in heaven reunited with her late husband and so many other relatives that passed on before her. Being the woman’s caregiver, she couldn’t help growing attached to the old lady. Even in her final few hours, Belinda had gotten down on her knees and said a prayer of farewell with the family.

Brushing a lock of red hair from her vivid green eyes, she recalled the packet of money the family had given her when she left. It was her final payment for the care she had given their mother.

Reaching into her dress pocket, she pulled out the thick parcel and handed it to her mother.

Dinah eyed the packet and then staring back with the same green eyes. What is it?

My last pay, she thrust the envelope into her mother’s hands. I’m sorry.

Dinah opened the packet and silently counted out the money without taking it from the parcel and then looking up she smiled. Seventy dollars is good money for a job well done. Why are you sorry?

Now that Mrs. Jenkins is gone, I’m out of the job. She said, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and sitting down. Starting tomorrow, I need to head back to the hospital and see if I can get another nursing job.

Dinah laid the parcel aside. I thought you detested working at the hospital.

I do, but what choice do I have. Belinda said, cringing when she thought about the long hours, Carol Harris, the grumpy head nurse and the fight to get even one coffee break. The work was hard, but no one ever said the work of a nurse was supposed to be glamorous.

Pulling the pins from her long, thick blonde hair that was marred by only a few specks of gray, Dinah took a seat in the chair opposite Belinda. Why don’t you take tomorrow off and rest. You can go back to the hospital on Saturday morning.

I don’t know. She muttered, secretly liking the idea of sleeping late in the morning, but hating to do so when they needed the money to put back for winter supplies. I was hoping to get a jumpstart on the winter.

What is one day going to hurt?

It’s nineteen ten, Ma, prices aren’t going to get any cheaper, you know.

You don’t have to over do it.

As much as I’d like to take you up on that offer, I’d better not. Belinda replied, yawning. I need to secure a position. She stole a glance at her class picture which her mother kept framed on the wall above the fireplace. Belinda grinned, proud to have graduated from the nursing class of nineteen six.

You’ve been gone nearly three months. You need to rest. I have a job now, you know. I can help until you find a more suitable nurse’s job.

Belinda stirred in her seat. You found a job, Ma?

Dinah crossed her arms and held her chin high. Don’t sound so surprised! I can work too, you know. I’m not lazy. I’ve held a job my whole life!

I know, Ma. Belinda said. But you’ve done a lot of sewing and alteration work here at the house, running that tailoring shop of yours around back. How did you manage to find a job on top of that?

Do you remember Lady Joyce McGee? She’s that rich woman who lives at Iron Gate Manor?

Belinda kneaded her chin, thinking about the enormous manor shrouded by trees beyond the huge iron gates that enclosed the forest and river surrounding it. The town’s people knew the mysterious manor was also home to the wealthy family of vampires known as the Satineer clan.

The only mortal family that had wealth enough to associate with them was the McGees. It was rumored that Sir Charles McGee married into the Satineer family and the races mixed.

Of course that was many years ago and this was nineteen hundred and ten, so most of the Satineer clan of vampires moved on to Europe. At present, only one McGee remained in the manor and that was Joyce McGee.

I remember her. You used to sew her all sorts of blankets. Belinda said, recalling her mother’s nimble fingers working night and day assembling the colorful ray of pelts and coverlets.

Dinah winced. Those weren’t blankets, those were her dresses.

Belinda’s eyes widened. Dresses? Some of those were large enough to cover my bed!

I know. Dinah rose from her seat, went to the cook stove in the corner of the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee from the kettle. Madam McGee is a large woman. I must have failed to mention that.

Oh my, Belinda rubbed her forehead in disbelief. Are you sewing her more blankets, I mean dresses?

Not just sewing for her, but I work fulltime at the manor as the cook.

Does she live alone?

Dinah reached for another cup, pouring more coffee and sliding it down to Belinda, She lives with her husband, Nathan Satineer and a whole slew of servants, including the head housekeeper, Pauline.

Do you cook all the meals for the couple or just supper?

It seems I only cook for Joyce. Pauline is a frail ninety-year-old woman, so she eats like a bird. Nathan is a vampire, so he doesn’t eat anything. Anything left over, I leave for the housemaids.

Belinda leaned in closer. I didn’t think any of the Satineers still lived at the manor. I thought most of them got sick of us poor people and took off for Italy or something.

Apparently not all, but I think Mr. Satineer stays with her out of mercy because she’s alone in this world. She’s the only living descendant of the McGees. He’s also her accountant.

Does that mean she’s a vampire, too?

Dinah shook her head. "I don’t think so. She’s human and believe me she eats solid food.

How long have they been married?

I don’t know. The servants say it’s a marriage of convenience. He keeps her company, does her accounting and keeps the books and together their wealth is immense, I’m sure.

I’ll bet.

Oh, yes. Dinah sipped her coffee. The place is huge, at least fifty or more rooms!

Wow.

They own five hundred acres of land, several warehouses, barns, a winery and a fruit orchard on the property.

How much does she pay you?

She pays me one hundred dollars a week. Dinah gloated, feeling good that she was able to earn so much for her hard work. I also get paid for the dresses I sew.

It’s too bad I couldn’t get a job there. Belinda replied, lifting the cup to her lips. Does she need a cook’s assistant or anything?

I could ask, I suppose.

With that kind of pay, we’d be rich. Belinda chuckled and then her thoughts drifted back to Joyce’s husband, a Satineer. What’s her husband look like? Is he creepy?

No, actually he looks like an average man, save his fangs. He looks younger than she; though in truth he is several hundred years old.

Does he drink blood?

Yes, all vampires are blood drinkers.

Where does he get his blood?

He gets it from the cattle kept on the property. They have a man that comes in twice a week and drains some from the animals. He brings it in and I have to siphon it into crystal bottles.

That sounds disgusting.

It was at first, but I’m quite used to it now.

I have seen women that are paid to provide him with blood. He also has many friends that willingly give their blood.

You’ve seen him drinking it? The blood, I mean?

Of course, but not from a person, I’ve only seen him drinking it from a wine glass.

How do you keep from getting sick?

Dinah shrugged. You’re a nurse, you clean up blood, and shit, and Lord knows what else. How do you keep from getting sick?

I’m used to it, too, I guess.

The same goes for me, I’m just used to it.

Taking up her cup, Belinda swallowed the last of her coffee which had grown cold, stood up and stretched. I’d better get some sleep, Ma. I’m going to head out to the hospital after breakfast. I really should try to get another job.

All right, good night, sweetie. Dinah stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Sleep well.

Good night, Ma.

The next morning Belinda awoke to a spill of sunlight that gleamed in from her bedroom window.

Rolling over, she pulled the blankets taut under her chin, not wanting to get up and face the day. She missed sleeping on the feather down mattress that was her bed after spending three months sleeping on the hard narrow couch at the Jenkins’ residence.

If only they were rich.

With a sigh, she finally threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed.

Combing her closet, she found a suitable pale blue dress that swept the floor, tan stockings and low cut black boots.

Taking her bone handle brush, she swept it through her hair, forcing out the witch’s knots and tangles. Each stroke caught a knot, making her grit her teeth as she worked the brush through.

Finally free of kinks, Belinda twisted her long hair into two tight braids and pinned the ends up on top of her head.

The kitchen was filled with the hot and spicy smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. Dinah pulled a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls out of the oven and replaced them with another.

Belinda swallowed hard when she saw the freshly baked rolls.

Leaning over the table and sniffing, Belinda counted out fourteen rolls. Oh Ma, your rolls smell so good.

Dinah smiled modestly, though she squared her shoulders with pride. Thank you, honey.

Are they ready to eat? May I have one?

No, not the ones on the table, Dinah reached over the cook stove and pulled down a basket and handed it to her. These are for us.

Belinda looked into the basket. These rolls were cold, the icing dry and stale. These are for us? she asked, wrinkling her nose.

She nodded, dropping the tray into the sink and going to the table with another empty basket. The ones I’m baking are for Joyce. I start them here, because when I get to the manor, she likes to have one first thing when she gets up in the evening.

She gets up in the evening?

She likes to keep the same hours as her husband.

Why can’t you bake them there?

I like to get them out of the way. Dinah started filling another basket with the hot pastries. It will take me most of the day to cook her supper and do any sewing she needs done.

Oh. Belinda’s eyes dropped down at the mediocre pastries her mother left for them and then she looked up again. Can’t we have a few of the fresh rolls? You’ve baked a week’s worth for her.

This isn’t a week’s worth; this is what she generally eats for breakfast.

She eats all that?

Yes.

She won’t miss one, will she? Belinda hinted. After all, I could use something warm and filling to keep me focused on the day ahead at the hospital.

Dinah stopped and regarded her question for a moment and then continued packing the rolls. Yes, she probably will miss it.

Not wanting to be dismayed and not able to turn away from the sweet smelling pastries, Belinda dropped her hands into her lap with a pout. Fine, can I buy one from you, Ma?

You don’t need to buy one. Dinah chided, pouring them both a cup of coffee and then handing one to Belinda. Just take it, I’ll tell Lady Joyce I dropped one.

Thanks, Ma. She anxiously reached in and plucked out a plump tart, its creamy icing melting at the rim. I’m so hungry!

I’m glad you’re satisfied. Now I’ll have to bake an extra one which is going to put me behind.

Belinda had opened her mouth to take a bite, but stopped. You said I could have it.

I know and go ahead and eat. She turned around with a huff, pulling down the gunnysack of flour she kept over the hutch. I’ll have to roll out another one, but don’t let my ranting keep you from enjoying your precious sweet roll.

Belinda paused, still holding the roll. I thought you were going to tell her you dropped one?

So you expect me to lie to my employer, the one who pays for my hard work, do you?

I didn’t ask you to lie; you said it.

Just eat your roll.

She lowered her eyes. Never mind, I don’t want it now.

First you said you wanted it, though I had a basket of rolls lying right there for our use, now you’re telling me you don’t want it? Which is it?

I don’t want it if it’s going to be a big deal.

Well, frankly it is.

Okay, here, Belinda dropped the roll back into Joyce’s basket and then reached into their own, taking out one of the cold, fusty rolls. I’ll eat one of ours.

Thank you, Dinah covered the basket with a dry cloth. I know asking you to forfeit that roll were hard enough on your part, regardless that it may have put me behind in my work.

Look, I’m not going to eat it, okay? Belinda stood up. Seizing her cup from the table, she hurriedly gulped down a swallow of coffee, forgetting to allow it time to cool. It burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Quickly she grabbed up a towel and spat in it.

Lord, now what?

Nothing, Belinda murmured. Grabbing a cold quiche from the basket, she left the house.

Trekking through the cobblestone street, Belinda paused while an automobile sped by, splashing a patch of mud onto her boot.

Craning her neck, she could see the brick building that was the hospital across the street.

With a long and drawn out sigh, she continued her pace until she was up the stone steps, opening the door to enter.

The stench of old blood and dried mucous hit her hard in the face, causing her stomach to clench.

She squint her eyes, trying to focus to the sudden dimness of light. When her vision cleared, she immediately spied sick patients waiting in line, some lying on the floor as if they were already dead.

Swallowing hard, Belinda carefully stepped around them and made her way to the office of the administrator and director of nursing.

Standing in the doorway, she silently watched her old employer, Nurse Carol Harris seated behind a wooden desk barking orders to a small line of three freshly recruited nurses, one of which was in tears.

All three of you had better shape up or you’re out of here! Carol growled, glaring at the girls with her beady yellow eyes. This is a hospital and I’m not here to hold your hand! Either you get out there and do your job or I’ll have you kicked out of here myself!

Yes Madam. All three girls said in unison, trembling.

All right, now get out of my sight!

With a jump, the three young nurses immediately filed out of the room, brushing past Belinda in their hurry to escape the aging nurse’s wrath.

Belinda related to the young girls, recalling her first run-in with Nurse Carol. When she was in nursing school learning the trade, she was supposed to place one towel and one wash cloth to each patient. Nurse Carol discovered one patient was accidentally given two wash cloths. She furiously berated her for days.

Gaining her bearings, Belinda entered the office.

Looking up, Carol gazed back at her with the same leering eyes, the same long crooked nose and the same wrinkled face that resembled a road map. Her hair was thinner this time around, tucked tightly under a frilly white cap.

Belinda Bird’s ass, what brings you back to St. Mary’s Hospital? she said insultingly, a smirk beaming across her thin lips.

My name is Belinda Birders. She said low, though she knew the nurse was purposely mocking her. I was hoping you might have some work for me.

So, I see you’ve finished caring for that old Jenkins woman and now you’re running back to me for another job, well, well, well.

Belinda cringed, gritting her teeth. How she hated the way Nurse Carol spoke to her as if she expected her to bow down and kiss her feet for a job. Hopefully she wouldn’t ask, as desperate as she needed the employment, she might end up lowering herself to doing just that. Inside, she berated herself for being so wishy-washy.

Do you need some help? she held her breath.

Carol rested her elbows on the desk and tented her hands. I suppose we could use you on the third floor.

With a sigh of relief and regret, Belinda accepted. I’ll get started right now. She said, turning on a heel.

You’re not in uniform.

I’ll work in plain clothes today and be in full uniform tomorrow.

Belinda. Carol called after her.

She paused and then looked over her shoulder. Yes?

One more thing, please try to remember that we pass out one wash cloth per patient, not two. We’re servicing the sick, not the royal family.

Belinda bit her lower lip. Oh, how she wished she could just walk out of the building and never come back.

Climbing the staircase, she said hello to several nurses she knew and then made her way to the third floor.

The ward hadn’t changed the few months she’d been away. The walls were the same dingy gray, the white tile floor was cold, smudged with various stains and lined with beds of sick people, coughing and hacking.

She reported to Connie Wizbig, the elderly nurse in charge of the unit.

Connie, I’m here to report for work.

The old nurse looked up from the bed she was making, her thin white hair also pulled taut under a snow white cap, her pink and white dress roughly thrown over her frail, bony body, Belinda Birders?

Yes.

It’s nice to see you again. She greeted, outstretching her lanky hand. How did it go with the Jenkins woman?

It was a good job and the family was kind and supportive. Belinda replied, shaking her hand warmly. She finally passed away, so that’s why I’m here. I need another job.

I see, stooping over, she picked up a stack of fresh linen and then dropped them in Belinda’s arms. You can start by making the beds at the end of the hall, room three twelve.

Carrying the linen, Belinda went to the room as instructed.

The windows lacked curtains which made it bright and cheery as the sunshine poured in. Six beds lined the center of the room, all of them occupied by the sick and dying.

Belinda went to the first bed and looked down at the man lying in filthy bed clothes, his face heavy with whiskers, his breath foul.

She leaned over him, his eyes flew open and he gawked at Belinda.

What in the hell? he cried, bolting upright in the bed. What do you want? This is my bed, lady!

I’m your nurse, sir. She explained, waving away the putrid odor that drifted from his dry lips. I’m here to make your bed.

He looked Belinda up and down for a moment and then he settled down in the bed with his arms stretched behind his head. Okay, I’m in need of some clean sheets. It’s about time. The lot of us lay around in dirty linens thanks to you lazy nurses.

Drawing in a deep breath, Belinda ignored his remark. Laying the stack of clean linen on the end of the bed, she began pulling the soiled sheets from the mattress.

I need you to roll over while I tuck the clean sheets under you.

I can’t roll, you have to roll me.

She rested her hands on his side, pushing him just enough to get him to roll.

Oh, not so rough! he cried.

Hold on to the side of the bed, sir.

I can’t, I’m helpless!

Holding him over, she stretched her free hand and yanked the stack of sheets to her side, unraveling them and tucking them with one hand, her other hand holding the man steady.

Once she finished making the bed, the man belched and then slapped his hands over his mouth, his face ashen.

Sir, are you feeling all right? she asked.

No…all that rolling…it made me sick…I feel like I’m going…to throw up, He stammered, belching again.

In a panic, Belinda swept her arm beneath his shoulders and scooped him up so that he could sit on the side of the bed.

Are you okay? Do I need to get you a bucket?

No…too late! he cried and then leaning over he retched all over his bed, gagging and coughing until his fresh sheets were lying wet in a pile of hot goop.

Lord, your bed! she said and then she grasped the man by the elbow. Let me help you to a chair so that I can get you cleaned up.

I don’t need cleaning! I need to lie down, I’m a sick man! he snapped, jerking his arm free and lying back down on the bed and into the puddle of vomit, some spilling onto the floor.

Belinda made a face. Sir, I can’t allow you to lie in vomit. You’ve got to sit up so that I can get this mess cleaned up.

I’m not doing it! I’m not!

Your bed is soiled with your own vomit, don’t you know that? You were the one that threw up, for crying out loud!

So? That’s not my problem, it’s yours, now get cleaning you lazy bitch!

Sucking in a deep breath, Belinda forced her anger to remain at bay. She fetched another stack of fresh sheets, a blanket, and a bucket of hot soap water.

Setting the cleaning gear at bedside, Belinda wrung out a washcloth. Sir, you’re going to have to roll over.

I can’t, I’m too weak.

You had enough strength to lie down after I set you up.

That’s different, lying down is easy.

I’m not asking you to sit, just to roll over.

I can’t do it.

All right, fine. Belinda huffed in between clenched teeth. She rolled the man over and tucked in the slopping wet sheets, washing the undigested food from his neck and back.

Rolling him over again, she continued to wash and tuck until finally the man was clean of vomit.

Picking up the soiled linen and bedclothes from the floor, Belinda started to carry them from the room when the man sat straight up in the bed, gagging.

Throwing the linen to the floor, she reached for a nearby bedpan and raced to his side, shoving the pan into his lap.

What’s this for? he asked, swallowing hard. I’m going to be sick; I’m not going to pee.

If you’re going to be sick, throw up in that.

No, not in a bedpan. I want to throw up in something else!

What difference does it make what you throw up in?

Not this, no! he grumbled, knocking the empty pan from the bed. Rolling over, he heaved onto the floor.

Oh, Lord, Belinda despaired when she saw the mess. Why couldn’t he have just used the bedpan? He seemed to have no problem rolling over when he wanted to retch on the floor.

I have to take a poop. He said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sat up, moving to the side of the bed.

You’re not going to poop in your bed, are you? she asked, crossing her arms.

Of course not, what do you think I am? I have dignity, you know. He retorted coldly, but when he stood up, his foot landed in the vomit on the floor, causing him to slip and fall on his buttocks, splattering it everywhere.

Sir, look out! she cried, though it was clearly too late.

The man waved the excessive vomit from his hands, more of it spattering on him and the floor. Look at what you made me do!

What did I do?

If you had cleaned this mess up in the first place, I wouldn’t have fallen!

You didn’t give me time to clean anything up!

You’re just another lazy nurse.

Here now, what is all this?

Belinda gnashed her teeth as she turned around. Nurse Carol was standing in the doorsill watching.

I was cleaning this man up. She tried to explain.

She didn’t clean nothing up, rolled me all over until I vomited. The patient complained, pointing at her. I couldn’t even get up ‘cause she made me lay in my own mess, I tell you. She’s horrible lazy!

What? Nurse Carol cried, storming across the room. Why didn’t you have the patient get up if he was able?

I tried, but he wouldn’t cooperate. He was…

She’s lying! the man interrupted. I begged her to get up so that I could use the water closet, but she pushed me back down and screamed at me.

That is not so and you know it. Belinda said, stunned.

Look at this mess, Carol chided, waving a hand over the bed, the pile of soiled linen and the wet floor. I see two sets of clean sheets wasted towels and, oh Lord, three wash cloths!

I had to use three. He vomited twice.

I didn’t, it was all from one setting! the patient replied. She dragged down sheet after sheet, wash cloths she didn’t even use.

They all have vomit on them!

Wasting sheets and towels is one thing, but wash cloths? We have patients crawling on the floor waiting to get inside for care and not enough linen to go around! We must save every bit of laundry so that at least one child may have a warm place to sleep, but what does Belinda Bird’s ass do? Waste what little wash cloths we have left!

But I… she stammered, wanting to tell her side of things.

No, I don’t want to hear it. Carol pointed at the heap of wet linen. Take that downstairs to the laundry room. For the rest of the day, you are now on laundry duty!

But…

What did I say?

Yes, Ma’am, Belinda said low, feeling like a small child.

When you get down there, send Nellie upstairs. She can take your place here.

Yes, Ma’am.

Scooping up the soiled linen, she promptly left the room. She could hear the man raving about the poor job she had done and how his nerves can’t take any more of her sloppy mess-ups. She heard Carol apologize.

Down the winding stairs to the huge laundry room, Belinda dismissed the usual laundry girl.

Nellie looked up from her work, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, her curly blonde hair tied up under a snow white nurse’s cap, her nose and chin smudged with grease.

Nurse Carol is discharging me? she asked with trembling lips.

She’s not firing you. She wants you to work on the third floor. Belinda said, forlorn.

I’m assigned to a ward? she asked, standing upright and drying her hands. Who’s to do laundry?

Me, she sighed.

Oh, Nellie replied, untying her apron and tossing it aside. You messed up?

Yeah, one of the patients threw up all over the place and God forbid I used more than one wash cloth.

I started two loads; there is more in the cart under the chute. Nellie pointed. There are several cakes of soap in the cabinet to the left.

Thanks, Belinda retrieved the apron and slipped into it, tying it behind her back.

The room filled with rising steam, Belinda went to one of the chutes and peered inside the cart. It was filled to the brim with soiled sheets, towels and various other pieces of laundry.

Gathering the laundry, she filled the first wooden tub on the washing machine just as another nurse came in and filled it with hot water.

I’ll have another bucket of water heated in a few minutes. The girl replied after dumping the boiling water.

Thank you. Belinda turned the crank on the machine and then watching as the agitator rotated. The steam carried the smell of human waste with it, clouding the area with stench.

Belinda shaved several splinters of soap and dropped them into the hot water.

Soon she had all six machines going, the cranks kept turned and then she guided the linen through the wringer, cranking it until her arms ached unmercifully.

By late afternoon, she was standing outside, behind the hospital hanging up the last of the washed linen.

Suddenly, just as she reached for the last wooden pin, she was struck in the back of the head by something so hard she saw stars.

What on earth? she cried, rubbing the back of her head.

Turning around, she saw no one.

Get to work, lazy ass! a man called out.

Squinting with both eyes, Belinda focused on the yard and then looking up, she saw the same man that had vomited in his bed earlier on. He was leaning out of the third story window.

What? she was puzzled.

Yeah, you, the man shouted. Get in here and get me some coffee!

Sir, I’m not your nurse. If you want coffee, you’ll have to ring your bell and ask for your nurse.

You’re not bringing me my coffee?

No, I’m not your nurse.

You lazy bitch, the man growled and then flung something from the window.

Straining to see through the sunlight that glared from the tin roof, Belinda did not see it coming until it hit her right in the middle of the forehead.

What the hell was that? she cried, slapping a hand across her forehead. Looking down, she saw a big rock in the grass at her feet. She looked back up at the man hanging from the window. Her forehead stung, she rubbed it with the ball of her palm.

That’s what you get, you lazy nurse!

Clenching her teeth so hard, she thought they would break; Belinda quickly stamped away from the clothesline and sat down on the smooth stone steps behind the building to rest.

Belinda?

Almost too tired to turn around, she managed to move her head enough to look over her shoulder.

Carol stood at the back door, her arms folded across her chest. You’re finished.

There may be more laundry in the chutes by now. I have not been down to check. I’ve been hanging the laundry.

No, I mean you’re finished for the day. She said, going to her and handing her an envelope. Here’s your pay.

Anxiously she opened the parcel. Seeing two-dollar bills lying inside made her smile.

Will you come back tomorrow and work?

Yes, I’ll be back in the morning.

That will be fine. Good night. I’ll have Jennifer finish up.

Thank you. Having the money almost made up for the lousy day.

The walk home was long and tedious. Although Belinda had a view of the setting sun blasting its glorious colors of gold and violet rose across the sky, it was hard to enjoy it with an aching back.

Reaching up, she yanked the strings from her hair and shook her hair loose. It fell over her shoulders and down her back in ribbons of brilliant red.

Craning her neck, she spied the old pine fence that used to line the Harvey farm before it burned to the ground seven years ago.

Her house was just around the corner.

Lord, am I ever going to get there? she moaned.

Finally home, Belinda opened the door and went inside. She was welcomed by the warm smell of stew simmering in a pot over the cook stove.

Dinah poked her head out the kitchen. Belinda, is that you?

No, it’s the Easter bunny. She sassed and then going to the rocking chair in front of the fireplace, she collapsed into it, exhausted. Yes, it’s me, Ma.

How did your first day back at the hospital go? Dinah asked, ladling out a bowl of stew and handing it to her.

It hasn’t changed a bit. She said, grabbing the bowl. She was so tired; she forgot how hungry she was. Spooning up a bite, she suddenly remembered her pay. Holding the bowl in one hand, she plucked the parcel from her dress pocket and handed it to her mother. I almost forgot my pay for the day, here Ma.

Shall I tuck it away with the rest of our money?

It doesn’t matter. You can buy groceries with it, if you want.

Are you going back tomorrow?

Of course, she said, though inside she wanted to scream, hell no!

Would you like for me to heat you a bath? You’re a frightful mess.

That would be nice, thanks Ma.

What’d you do to your head?

What?

Your head, you have an awful bruise on it. Dinah traced the purple spot on the side of Belinda’s forehead with her fingers. Did you run into something? She ran her fingers through her crimson tresses. Lord, there’s dried blood in your hair.

Belinda recalled the confrontation with the drunken man. How she hated working at that damn hospital. If only she could get a nursing job caring for the elderly at home again.

A patient at the hospital threw a rock at me., she murmured, laying her bowl aside.

A rock, Dinah gasped and then her brow furrowed into a frown. Why would anyone throw rocks at a person assigned to take care of them?

That’s the way things are at St. Mary’s. Carol always assigns me to the impossible patients, mostly the drunkards.

Why do you put up with that?

I need the work and jobs are hard enough to come by, you know that.

Come with me, I have some good news and I’ll share it with you while I warm your bath. She mentioned, going into the lavatory opposite the kitchen.

Belinda tilted her head. What news?

Dinah turned the faucet and then plugged the drain. About a job, if you’re interested?

What job? She sat down on the on the privy and pulled off her boots and then her stockings.

At the manor with me, Dinah reached into the cabinet and laid out some clean towels.

Belinda jumped to her feet. I can work at the manor with you, Ma? Oh my God, are you serious?

Yes, Joyce is in need of a nurse. Poor Pauline can’t handle that task any longer and I put in a good word for you. I think the Madam is interested in hiring you.

What does the job pay?

I don’t know. You’ll have to discuss that with Mrs. McGee.

When do I meet her?

How about tomorrow evening?

Tomorrow evening is fine.

Good, I’ll let her know you’re coming and I’ll go with you. She said, leaning over and turning the water off. Now hop in the tub and get washed off, you’re in terrible need of a bath.

Belinda was so happy; she could hardly contain her delight! Without much thought, she flung herself into her mother’s arms and hugged her. Oh, thank you! You have no idea how much I appreciate this! Thank you!

I know you appreciate it. I also know how hard the work at the hospital is and yet you keep going back just to help me with the bills and the mortgage.

That’s because I love you, Ma.

And I love you, sweetie.

Chapter 2

Belinda stood behind her mother at the great doors of the manor. Gray fog rose from the ground like phantoms hovering, watching them.

She held her hands to keep them from trembling. Dinah pulled the rope that rang the bell.

A few minutes later, the door opened and a tiny elderly woman poked her nose through the crack.

It’s only me, Pauline. Dinah replied. I’ve brought my daughter here to meet Joyce.

Raising her candle to have a better look, the woman regarded them with tapered eyes and then quickly she swung the massive doors open and pulled Dinah in.

You’ve brought your daughter? Oh, praise be! Let’s have a look at her, shall we? She said.

Her eyes raked over the lovely Belinda Birders with hair the color of the flaming sunset and eyes as vivid green as a polished emerald. Her facial features soft and smooth, she resembled a younger version of her mother.

Nevertheless, she was quick to see Belinda’s small frame. She stood at an even five foot and she was so slim, Pauline was sure she could easily span the girl’s waist with both her hands.

She’s a tiny thing, isn’t she? Pauline remarked, her wrinkled face troubled. Are you sure she can handle the likes of Madam Joyce?

Oh, she can manage. Dinah said waving away the notion with a flick of her hand.

Are you sure? You know how the Madam is.

I’m sure. Besides, wouldn’t you rather give the strenuous job to someone much younger?

The old housekeeper looked at Belinda and then back at Dinah, nodding. You’re right, I see your point. I’ll tell the Madam you’re here. Pardon me.

Thank you.

Belinda stood beside her mother watching as the old woman turned on a heel and darted away.

She returned a few minutes later.

Follow me, she waved a hand, the keys on her belt jingling as she walked.

They followed her through the marble hallway and into a huge parlor.

The room was filled with dark wood furnishings with green velvet upholstery, a large curved sofa sat opposite a stone fireplace that took up all of one wall.

Heavy gold drapes covered the windows and pricey oil paintings lined the walls.

All though the room was filled with antique wonders and priceless crystal, Belinda hardly noticed. Her eyes immediately fell on the woman sitting in front of a polished hardwood table.

The woman had shoulder length hair of frosted blonde, pulled into a loose chignon at her nape. She wore a bright assembly of diamonds at her throat and her fingers were bejeweled with sparkling rubies and emeralds encased in white gold, her fingernails long, sleek and red.

The woman was sitting in a high-backed wheelchair and with good reason. She tipped the scales at five hundred pounds.

The woman smiled, it was warm and genuine. She held out a hand, the skin hung from her portly arm. You must be Belinda. Come here and let me take a look at you, honey.

Belinda looked over her shoulder. Her mother nodded in approval and then quietly excused herself, leaving her alone with the mistress of the manor.

Drawing in a deep breath, she went to the heavy woman. Hello.

Hello, my name is Joyce McGee. Your mother brought you here to work as my nurse, is that so?

Belinda nodded. Yes. Looking closer, she noticed a large hairy mole on the woman’s chin. Awkwardly, she averted her eyes around the table to keep from staring at it.

That’s good. Pauline used to care for me, but she’s getting too old to do such work. What I need is a fresh young back to wash me, help me dress and lift me into my chair and bed when needed.

I can do that. Belinda said, squaring her shoulders. I’ve been a nurse for three years. And then she considered the large woman’s words for a moment. Did you say, lift?

Yes, Pauline can hardly do it anymore. Did you know she nearly dropped me the other night trying to lift me out of the tub?

You don’t say. She said, puzzled how the frail elderly woman was able to lift her at all.

Now I have a young nurse. Joyce replied. How refreshing it will be. How old are you, child?

I’m nineteen.

Just a babe, she tsk’d with a chuckle. I just sat down to have a bite to eat. Won’t you sit down and join me?

Thank you, Belinda pulled out a chair and sat down. She stared at the bounty laid out on the table with wide eyes.

Fine china decked out with three loaves of brown bread, a bowl of butter and another of honey. A pot of coffee, a tray of chicken and red potatoes, a bowl of fried tomatoes, a pitcher of cold milk and a delicate dish with red velvet cake.

There’s so much to choose from. Belinda replied, taking a white linen napkin and remembering to fold it across her lap. It’s a lovely dinner.

Your mother cooked it and Pauline kept it warm. She said, ripping off a drumstick and tearing into the meat with her sparkling white teeth. That’s why I hired her. Your mother is an excellent cook!

Oh, yes, she is. Belinda said, flinching when droplets of food flew from Joyce’s mouth as she devoured the chicken. Ma said you prefer to keep night hours.

My husband, as you may have heard, is a vampire. He’s only awake at night. I also sleep during the day so that I may share the night with him. She said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

When will I meet him?

Soon, he’s usually hard at work in the library at the end of the hall. He’s also my accountant.

That’s interesting.

Mr. Blackwell is his assistant. He helps him with the books once a month. You won’t see much of him.

Okay.

I usually wake up at seven in the evening and I like to…

Belinda listened while her eyes strummed the room, gazing at the various pieces of silver and crystal that filled the glass-fronted china cabinet.

When she noticed a discomfited silence, she averted her attention back to Joyce.

Yes, go on. She urged.

Joyce said nothing.

Madam?

Joyce began waving her hand in the air. Belinda looked over her shoulder to see who had entered the room, but saw no one.

Scratching her head, she turned around, creasing her brows quizzically when the woman began flaying her arms, thrashing them about.

What? What’s wrong? she asked and then it dawned on her as suddenly as if she had been splashed with a bucket of ice water. Holy cow, you’re choking!

Jumping to her feet, Belinda raced to the back of Joyce’s chair and began slapping her on the back.

Joyce clutched her throat, grunting.

Lord, don’t let her die before I even start the job! she whispered and then reaching around the large woman’s chest, she pressed a fist into her ribcage and then with her other hand she frantically started chest thrusts.

Just as she squeezed her for the fourth time, struggling to keep her arms wrapped around such a large body, a chunk of meat flew out of her mouth, striking the crystal candelabra, shattering it.

Holy shit fire! Belinda cried, cringing when both her mother and Pauline burst into the room.

Joyce was gasping, spittle dripping from her lips.

Pauline quickly grabbed up a napkin and handed it her. My goodness, what on earth happened, Madam?

I was choking on a piece of chicken! Joyce cried, shaken. She reached for a wine glass and guzzled the cold milk, belching loudly afterward.

Perhaps we should leave? Dinah said, worried that Joyce may be too traumatized now to continue the interview with her daughter.

Belinda’s shoulders slumped. She messed it up, she just knew it. There would be no job and like it or not, she would have to return to the hospital.

Belinda, come here. Joyce said, swallowing hard. She waved a heavily jeweled hand.

Yes?

You’re hired.

I’m hired?

Yes, I want to see you here tomorrow at six-thirty so that Pauline can give you the run-down before I wake up. I’m prepared to pay you one hundred dollars a week.

Oh! she cried, excited at the prospect of making so much money.

Madam, are you sure? Pauline asked, handing her another napkin.

Of course I’m sure! she declared, slamming her fist down on the table so hard, it shook. This woman just saved my life! She knew exactly what to do. What would I have done if I had been choking here all alone with only you to save me? I would be dead, that’s what! You couldn’t do chest thrusts on me even if you laid me down on the floor and jumped rope on me!

I…uh, Pauline stammered and then shrugged. I suppose, but you choke all of the time, Madam.

Nonsense, Belinda is hired! She is the perfect nurse for the job.

Very good, Pauline smiled.

Belinda, Joyce stretched her neck, trying to see behind Pauline. When she couldn’t stretch far enough, she reached out and shoved the maid out of the way. Now the view to the young nurse was clear. That’s better. Come here, child.

Belinda stepped forward with her hands clasped behind her back.

To be my nurse you must live here at the manor. I must have you near incase I should need you during the day as well as the night.

Okay, she murmured, listening. She didn’t know she’d be required to live in the manor. She should have expected as much, for she was required to live at the Jenkins’ farm when she cared for their elderly mother.

I’m going to have a room set up just for you. When you come tomorrow night, after Pauline goes over my routine. I’ll have Nathan show it to you.

Who’s Nathan?

That’s my husband, Nathan Satineer. That’ll be your chance to meet him as well. Your bedroom will be in the servant’s quarters in the basement and since I cannot get down there, he will have to take you down. Will that be all right?

That’ll be fine, thank you, Madam.

Excellent! I’ll see you then. I have the feeling we’re going to be good friends.

After saying goodbye, Belinda and her mother traveled down hill through the grass walking along side the smooth paved drive that lead them to the meadow.

The moon hung low and its silver light shone them a path in which to see by.

I knew Joyce would hire you. Dinah wallowed, pride shining in her eyes. You’re the best nurse around and I told her so.

Oh, Ma, she blushed, walking hand in hand with her. I’m not that great.

Yes, you are! Joyce is a smart business-type lady. She knows a good thing when she sees one and she would not have hired you if she thought differently.

How many nurses has she had?

She had one that I know of.

She had only one?

Pauline is the only nurse she had working for her since I’ve been there.

But I thought she was the housekeeper?

She is.

She was the nurse, too?

Yes. She pretty much filled in both spots.

Belinda ran a hand through her thick red hair. How does she know I’m the perfect nurse when she has never had any others?

I told her you were.

Oh, Ma.

It’s true.

Joyce said I had to live at the manor with her. Belinda mentioned after a lengthy silence.

Dinah cocked her head to one side as they walked. That makes sense.

You’re not upset?

Of course not, that’s part of the occupation.

Belinda rubbed her neck uneasily. Ma, how did Joyce get like she is?

Get like she is? How do you mean, Belinda?

You know, big?

Big?

Yes, you know.

Fat, is that what you mean?

Yes.

I don’t know. She was like that when I met her.

Oh.

How much is she starting you out at?

One hundred dollars a week! she was still in awe at the money she’d be bringing home. With that kind of money, they could easily pay off their mortgage and debts and still have something to tuck away in savings.

Finally, things were starting to look up!

Chapter 3

Belinda began the long upward climb to the manor. Surrounded by darkness, nothing to guide her but the rays of the moon overhead, she hurried her pace when a brief flash of lightning jetted across the sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder.

Drawing in a deep breath, she steadied herself and then knocked on the door. She shivered as the wind picked up, thrashing her hair about wildly.

Within a few minutes, the massive door swung open and Pauline bid her entrance inside.

My goodness, it looks like rain. She said, holding up a small oil lamp. Come inside, child. We were expecting you.

I’m glad I made it before the rain. Belinda laughed nervously. She followed the housekeeper down the long hallway, past the parlor and into the dining room.

Would you like a bit of coffee? she asked, pulling out a chair and motioning for her to sit down.

Thank you that would be nice. Belinda replied, taking a seat at the polished dark wood table.

I’ll be just a moment. Pauline bobbed a curtsey and left the room.

Belinda took in her surroundings while she waited.

A long satin runner ran the length of the table in pastel colors of peach and gold and a huge silver candelabrum sat in the center. There was one captain’s chair at the head of the table, followed by six chairs on both sides.

A cheery fire burned from the inglenook in the corner of the room, filling the area with dancing shadows and playful phantoms.

The housekeeper appeared a moment later with a small pewter tray and placed it on the table in front of Belinda.

There was a flowerily glass pot of steaming coffee, a matching cup and saucer, a small pitcher of milk and a dainty bowl of sugar.

Belinda noted the sterling silver flatware as she spooned cream and sugar into the cup.

Folding the gray skirt of her dress, Pauline sat down at the table opposite Belinda, resting her hands in her lap. May I say once more how glad I am to have you working here, child.

Thank you, Belinda smiled. I’m really excited to be working here!

Pauline reached into her pocket and plucked out a piece of paper. I suppose I’d better go over a few things before the Madam wakes up. She said, unfolding it. Madam Joyce likes to have her coffee and sweet roll when she wakes up. I will bring that in for her. She requests a bath afterward and then you will help with her dressing. It will be time for her evening medicines.

What kind of medication is she on?

The list of medicines and times are written on a chart posted above the kitchen sink.

Okay. She nodded, listening as the housekeeper continued.

She will want to be seated in the dining room to eat with her husband. Your mother prepares her meals and I will see to having them placed upon the setting. Mr. Satineer drinks blood, sometimes a glass of dry red wine, depending on his mood. I will also see to that. When dinner is over, the lady may have you roll her into the library so that she can watch Mr. Satineer attend to business. She will ring when she is ready for you to roll her into the sun room. You will get a break in between as Joyce will want you to dress her in something provocative so that she can sit in the music room and listen while her husband plays the pianoforte.

She wears provocative clothing? Belinda whispered, unable to envision the bulky woman wearing anything sultry.

Mr. Satineer retires before the dawn breaks, usually around four in the morning.

Does he sleep in a coffin? Belinda blurted without thinking. It was not polite to ask such a thing, but the question intrigued her.

No, he sleeps in his bed in his own room.

Oh, yes, of course, she murmured, recalling earlier when the lady herself told her that he had his own quarters.

Standing up, Pauline pushed her chair back from the table. If you’re ready to start, I’ll take you to Joyce’s room.

Belinda followed Pauline, passing room after room until they came to an engraved mahogany door at the end of one corridor. Pauline rapped lightly on the door and then opened it. Belinda trailed her inside, her breath taken away when she observed her surrounds.

It was a large rectangular room with a friendly fire dancing in the stone fireplace. The floor was marble and a burgundy throw rug centered the room. A huge four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room surrounded by a dark wood wardrobe with mirrored doors and a vanity table with matching footstool.

Drapes of the same color cascaded from the tall leaded windows, the moonlight gleaming through the plate glass in broken streaks of silver.

Casting her eyes to one side, Belinda spied the wooden wheelchair used by the lady of the manor.

Belinda, is that you? Joyce called out, lifting her head from beneath the velvet bedspread. I see you’re on time. I like that.

I’ll have your sweet roll and coffee brought in promptly. Pauline replied. I wanted to get Miss Belinda started before I go about my usual chores.

That will be fine, thank you, Pauline. Joyce said, excusing the elderly housekeeper with a flick of her hand. She turned her attention to Belinda, reaching out a hand. What do you think so far, child?

Oh, my, Belinda breathed. It’s beautiful and so big, the manor, I mean.

Joyce rolled side to side until she managed to sit upright in the bed. She pointed to the door on the right. My bathroom is in there. Go on, have a look around. I want you to be familiar with this place.

The door creaking open, Belinda leaned into the doorjamb and looked about. The bathroom was a large square room with an enormous claw-foot tub in the center, the privy in one corner, and