“I know,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just don’t care enough to do anything about it.”

“I see,” he said. “I have obviously underestimated your determination to self-destruct. I admit, I’m a little disappointed, Alva dear. I had thought we could conduct this like people of breeding.”

“Yes,” she said. “The men in your family were always quite interested in breeding, weren’t they? But not very much in actual good behavior.”

“There’s absolutely no need to resort to insults,” he said, and Alva could see the cracks appearing in his falsified good humor. “Don’t you have any respect for the memory of your dead husband?”

She shrugged. “I hold his memory in precisely the respect it deserves,” she said. “We’re done here.”

“Oh, I’m afraid we’re not,” he said. “I may prefer to conduct my affairs with a little subtlety, a little sophistication, but it doesn’t mean I’m not perfectly capable of trying it the other way, too. I had thought my brother simply lacked finesse in his dealing with you, but I see that for once I’ve underestimated him. Clearly the only thing you understand is force.”

“Take one step closer,” Alva said, “and I’ll hit you so hard with this lamp you’ll be out for a week.”

“Ah, the kitten flexes her claws and tries to hiss,” Alfred said, and lunged for her, grabbing at her wrist. Alva swung the lamp towards his head, connecting powerfully with his temple. He stumbled to the side, letting go of her as he fell to the floor, and she didn’t stop to see if he was still conscious before she ran for the door.

Something pulled at her skirts, yanking her to a halt. As she turned she saw Alfred, still on the floor, blood coming down the side of his face.

“You bitch,” he said, pulling so hard on the back of her dress that she stumbled. She grabbed the fabric, jerked it out of his hands, and ran through the door without looking where she was going.

It was dark in the hallway—she’d left her lamp in the room with Alfred—and she could hear him knocking about behind her. He was getting up—she swung around what remained of the top banister—he was leaving the room—she hurried down the stairs—he was right behind her—she turned at the landing—his hand digging into her shoulder—she gasped in pain as you bitch slithered into her ear.

She fell, landing painfully on her side, and for a moment she couldn’t move. Her vision, barely useful in the dark, blurred completely.