My Bratty Wife
Chapter 253 - Two Hundred And Fifty Three

Chapter 253: Chapter Two Hundred And Fifty Three

A sudden, violent crack of thunder, so loud it seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle, ripped Suzy from a shallow, tormented sleep. She jolted upright in the vast, canopied bed, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs, a gasp caught in her throat. Rain lashed against the tall windows of the bedchamber, driven by a howling wind, each gust sounding like a mournful wail.

She was drenched in sweat, her silk nightgown clinging unpleasantly to her skin despite the chill in the air. The dream... she had fallen back into that same terrible dream. The blood, Byron’s mad, triumphant laughter, and the final, deafening bang. Ryan... oh, God, Ryan... lying so still on the cold, unforgiving ground. The image was burned into the back of her eyelids, a horrific afterimage that refused to fade.

"Ryan," she whispered into the darkness, her voice trembling. "I hope Ryan is doing fine. Please, please be fine." But the thought offered no comfort. A frantic, primal terror seized her, clawing at her reason. The storm outside was nothing compared to the tempest raging within her. She couldn’t just lie here, suffocating in this luxurious bed, waiting. Waiting for what? For grim news to arrive with the morning light? For her nightmare to become her reality?

"No," she said, her voice a raw whisper. "No, no, I can’t stay here and wait."

Propelled by an irresistible, panicked urgency, she threw back the heavy covers and swung her legs out of bed. Her bare feet met the cold floorboards, but she didn’t notice. Her only thought, her only all-consuming need, was Ryan. She had to get to him. She had to see for another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by another deep rumble of thunder, spurring her on.

She flung open the bedchamber door and rushed out into the dimly lit corridor. Noah, who had been standing guard dutifully outside her door as per the Duke’s strict instructions, was startled by her sudden, frantic appearance. Her hair was a wild, tangled mess around her shoulders, her eyes wide with terror, her face pale as death.

"Your Grace!" he exclaimed, stepping in her path. "Are you well? What is it? Should I get Irene for you? Or Doctor Abernathy?"

Suzy shook her head violently, her gaze fixed on the grand staircase at the end of the hall, as if it were a gateway to another world. "No, Noah," she said, her voice strained, breathless. "Get Ryan. I need Ryan here. Now."

Noah’s face fell, his expression turning to one of helpless concern. "He... he isn’t back yet, Your Grace. It is still the middle of the night."

His words, meant to be calming, only fueled her panic. "Not back?" she repeated, a note of distress creeping into her tone. She walked right past him, her movements jerky and determined. "Then I’ll get him myself. I have to find him."

She began to descend the wide, sweeping staircase, her bare feet silent on the thick runner, her hand gripping the polished banister for support and her other hand holding her pregnant belly. She was like a ghostly figure in her white nightgown, a panic stricken spirit haunting the dark, sleeping halls of her own home. Mr Bradford , footmen, and maids, woken by the storm or her own unaccustomed presence, began to appear from the doorways of the lower floors, their faces a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Your Grace, where are you going?" Mr Bradford asked, trying to block her path.

"I’ll get Ryan back myself," she murmured, pushing past him as if he weren’t there, her eyes fixed on the massive oak doors of the main entrance.

The staff exchanged worried glances, none of them sure how to handle their Duchess in such a state. They followed her at a distance, a small, helpless procession, whispering amongst themselves.

As she reached the vast, echoing entrance hall, a more formidable figure stepped forward. Mrs. Madelyn, the head cook, her comfortable night robe hastily thrown on, her graying hair in a single, thick braid down her back, blocked her path. She took Suzy firmly but gently by the arms.

"And what is all this, Your Grace?" Mrs. Madelyn asked, her voice steady but her eyes filled with deep concern. "Where on earth do you think you are going in your condition? In the dead of night, in this terrible storm?"

Suzy didn’t answer her directly, her mind too consumed by her singular, desperate purpose. She tried to pull her arms free from the older woman’s surprisingly strong grip. Her words came out in broken, frantic gasps, her thoughts too tangled to form coherent sentences. "Ryan’s... I... there’s trouble... I need... have to go... I need him..."

Seeing the wild, unseeing look in Suzy’s eyes, the sheer panic that had her in its grip, Mrs. Madelyn knew that gentle words would not suffice. With a heavy heart, she did something she never thought she would do. She drew back her hand and delivered a short, sharp slap to Suzy’s cheek. The sound was shockingly loud in the vast hall.

"Pull yourself together, Your Grace!" Mrs. Madelyn commanded, her voice firm, cutting through the haze of panic.

"Irrationality will help no one, least of all the Duke or the child you carry!"

The sting on her cheek, the sheer shock of the act, seemed to pierce through the thick fog of Suzy’s terror. Her desperate struggles ceased. She blinked, her wild eyes slowly coming back into focus, seeing for the first time the ring of worried faces surrounding her – the maids, the footmen, Mr Bradford and Mrs. Madelyn, whose own eyes were now glistening with unshed tears of regret and empathy.

And then, the dam broke. A terrible, ragged sob tore from Suzy’s throat, and she collapsed against Mrs. Madelyn, her body shaking with a storm of weeping that rivaled the one raging outside. The older woman immediately enfolded her in a strong, maternal hug, stroking her hair, absorbing her shuddering grief.

"There now, my child, there now," Mrs. Madelyn murmured, her voice soft and soothing, holding Suzy tightly as she cried her heart out. "Let it all out. It’s alright. It’s alright."

Suzy cried for what felt like an eternity, her tears a downpour of fear for Ryan, of the horror of her dream, of her own helplessness.

" You all can leave, I’ll take care of her Grace myself." Mrs Madelyn announced causing everyone to clear the hall and back to their quarters.

Suzy cried until she was utterly spent, until her sobs quieted into exhausted, hiccuping breaths.

"It’s alright, my child," Mrs. Madelyn said again, gently rocking her as one would a frightened infant. "We will wait here for His Grace’s arrival. We will wait together, right here by the door. And when the morning comes, you’ll see. You’ll see that he is safe, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. He will come home to you."

Suzy, her face still buried in the comforting fabric of Mrs. Madelyn’s robe, managed a small, shuddering nod. She couldn’t bring herself to believe the words entirely, the fragments of her nightmare still too tightly coiled around her heart, but she clung to them, and to the woman holding her, as a drowning soul clings to a piece of driftwood. And so they waited in the vast, dark hall, listening to the rain lash against the great oak doors. A silent prayer forming on Mrs Madelyn lips for the master of the house safe return.