CHAPTER EIGHTAll that day and night and all the next day too, Elvira was left alone.
Beth tapped once at the door, whispering solace, but she was unable to release her Mistress. Neither was she able to bring food, so by late afternoon Elvira was feeling ravenous.
She was curled up under the quilt when she at last heard the key turning in the lock. She sat up, hair tumbling over her face and stared hopefully towards the door. Perhaps it was Beth with something to eat.
The door swung open and there on the threshold stood Serge.
“Come,” he said simply, extending his hand towards her.
Elvira cowered.
“W-where?”
“To the Chapel,” replied Serge impatiently, “where the Priest awaits.”
“The Priest!” Elvira cried in horror.
Serge’s expression was cool.
“ That’s right. We are to be married.
