by Laura Martin
‘She ran across the fields for four miles until she reached your father’s house.’
Annabelle spun to face him as understanding dawned in her eyes.
‘She was the woman my father helped, the one you owed him a debt of gratitude for.’
‘Yes. She hammered on your door in the middle of the night and your father let her in, beaten and filthy. Even though by law he could not come between a man and his wife, he locked the door behind her and refused to open it. Of course it helped that your father was an earl. Emily’s husband couldn’t push too far.’
‘This would have been thirteen years ago?’
‘Yes.’
Annabelle nodded, her eyes focused out to sea.
‘Do you remember her?’
‘I remember something. A commotion in the middle of the night. My mother arguing with my father, strict instructions not to go into one of the guest rooms. I was only eight, though.’
‘Your father kept her safe until I arrived three days later. I took her back to Cambridge with me and for two weeks we thought perhaps her husband had given up and gone back to drink himself into a stupor.’ He couldn’t believe his naivety now, his stupidity. ‘I went out to lectures one morning and when I came back to my lodgings they were ransacked and Emily was gone.’ The feeling of panic, of desperation was still raw when he thought back to that day.
‘What did you do?’
‘I followed them back to Sussex, but couldn’t gain admittance to her husband’s estate. Two days later he announced she had drowned in the bath.’
Annabelle turned to him, her eyes wide with horror. ‘Her husband...?’
‘I believe so. I think he killed her and then made it look as though she had drowned.’
‘Did he get away with it?’
‘In a sense. I kicked up a fuss, but it was my word against his. None of the servants would come forward to confirm he beat her, hurt her. Six months later he drank himself to death.’
For a long moment Annabelle was silent, staring out to sea as she tried to digest everything he had just told her. He’d been living with the truth of the matter for thirteen years and often he still felt as if it were a bad dream.
‘I can’t imagine how you coped.’
‘I buried myself in my studies, then in the running of the estates for my great-uncle. I mourned Emily—for a long time I mourned her.’ He waited until Annabelle looked up at him before continuing. ‘I loved her, but it was a very painful period in my life. I loved her and mourned her and over the years have worked out how to live with my guilt for not protecting her better.’
‘You weren’t the one who hurt her.’
‘No, but she may have still been alive if I had kept my distance and put her welfare above my short-lived happiness.’
Gently Annabelle placed a hand on his arm and for once he was glad of the contact. For so long he had been without the touch of another, even a gentle pat on the arm felt filled with warmth.
‘I don’t want you to pity me,’ he said a little sharper than he intended. ‘I just felt it best you understand. I loved Emily, but I am not still in love with her. I am a different man now from the one I was then.’
His wife still didn’t look entirely convinced and he felt uncomfortable under her gaze. Quickly he pulled away, turning back towards the cliffs.
‘I do understand,’ Annabelle said as she hurried to keep up with him. ‘Thank you for telling me, I know it must have been hard.’
Gruffly he mumbled ‘yes’ under his breath and set the pace quicker for the walk back, hoping it might discourage further conversation.
He believed his own words when he said he didn’t still love Emily. He had loved her, with the burning intensity of a man who has been denied love for so long trying to cram it into such a short period, but she had been dead a long time. It wouldn’t do to let Annabelle think that he would be more emotionally available if he could deal with his grief from losing Emily, it just wasn’t true.
‘That is why I wanted a marriage without the need for feelings, for an emotional connection.’
He could feel her eyes boring into him for a minute before she spoke. ‘I think you are being naive,’ she said eventually. ‘A marriage doesn’t have to be about love, but there will always be some emotion involved. I don’t think you can live with someone else in your life for that long and not feel something.’
Leo nodded slowly. ‘You are right, of course.’ He had become so fixated on trying to ensure his wife didn’t think he would one day love her he had forgotten that she was human, too. ‘Have I treated you poorly?’
‘No. You haven’t. You’ve been kinder to me than anyone except Beth has been for a long time.’
He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or if it should be taken as more of a comment on the world they lived in.
They walked side by side for a while to the base of the cliffs before heading up the rocky path and back to their cottage. He had the sense Annabelle wanted to say something, but even as they walked over the fields she remained silent.
Chapter Thirteen
Dear Beth,
I have a little predicament. Do you have any advice on how not to desire one’s husband?
It was mid-afternoon, the day hot and heavy, the heat even more unbearable than the preceding weeks. They had eaten an early lunch brought up to the cottage by the maid staying in the inn in Kimmeridge and since then Annabelle hadn’t been able to summon up the energy to do more than sit on the bench in the shade in the little garden and read her book. Not that she’d been able to concentrate much, her mind kept flitting back to what Leo had told her earlier. Everything was beginning to make sense, even his feeling of obligation towards her father.
‘I’m going to walk to the beach,’ Leo said from his spot on the other side of the garden underneath a tree. ‘See if there is any more air by the sea.’
‘I’ll come.’ Annabelle hauled herself up and pulled at her dress which was sticking to her legs through her petticoats. ‘I wish women weren’t expected to wear so many layers.’
‘Take some off,’ Leo suggested nonchalantly, not even looking at her as he spoke.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well...’
‘Who will know if you’re wearing a petticoat or whatever you call the shirt thing you wear under your dress? Or the tight thing that goes over the top to hold everything together.’ He motioned with his hand to get his point across and Annabelle giggled.
‘You’re not an expert in women’s clothing, are you?’
‘No. Never needed to be. There are too many ridiculous layers if you ask me. Are they all necessary?’
‘Not in heat like today.’ It would feel liberating to remove even just her petticoat or stay, anything to feel less as if she were being suffocated by material in a baker’s oven.
‘I can wait,’ Leo said, sitting back down and closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the tree trunk.
Annabelle hesitated, then ran inside, heading to the bedroom to remove a layer or two. The material of her dress was thick white cotton, held around the middle with a pink sash. She was worried without her stay she would look shapeless and the dress would hang off her petite frame like a sack, but once she had divested herself of her petticoats, chemise and stay and regarded the look in the mirror she couldn’t honestly say she noticed much difference. She did feel lighter, though, and less trussed up. Downstairs she hesitated as she went to grab a bonnet to keep the sun from her face and then decided against the one with the veil attached. She was growing used to Leo’s eyes on her and it wasn’t as though there were many other people around.
‘Ready?’ he asked as she re-emerged.
‘Ready.’
By the time they reached the beach Annabelle was sweltering and she wondered if she would have been bett
er staying in the shade by the cottage, but as they neared the sea a soft breeze started to blow up. It was only gentle, but just enough to move the air around them so it didn’t feel quite so unbearable.
‘I’m going to paddle,’ she announced, knowing full well Leo wouldn’t join her. Her husband wasn’t as tense as first impressions would indicate, but she knew there was no way he would pull off his boots and paddle his toes in the sea with her. She decided it didn’t matter, she was going to do it anyway.
‘The rocks will be slippery.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘You could cut open your foot.’
‘I’ve been paddling on rocky beaches for my entire life.’
Sitting down on a large rock, she began to pull off her boots and stockings, glad to wriggle her toes in the fresh air. It would feel blissful to dip her feet in the cool water even for just a few minutes. Carefully she gathered up her skirt, holding it at mid-calf-level. Not so high as to be viewed scandalous, but high enough it shouldn’t get soaked by the seawater. Not that there was anyone else on the beach to judge.
Feeling Leo’s eyes on her, she picked her way over the rocks to the sea and found a flat rock to stand on, sighing as the water lapped at her toes. It was heavenly. A day of scorching hot weather and nothing could cool her down quite like a dip in the sea. She had a hankering for one of the secluded coves at Birling View where she and Beth would often go and swim as children, wearing only their shifts and shrieking at the icy water as they went in, but soon forgetting their initial protests as they swam and dived and laughed.
‘How is it?’ Leo’s voice made her jump, he was standing closer than she imagined, just out of the reach of the gentle waves.
‘Glorious. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to join me?’
‘I do not paddle.’
‘Why not?’
He considered the question, as if it were the first time he had been challenged on one of his behaviours.
‘I never have,’ he said eventually. ‘At least not since...’
She knew what he meant without him having to say it. Not since his parents had died.
‘I insist. I won’t have you missing out any longer.’
‘Annabelle...’
Deciding to ignore him, she pulled him by the hand to the same rock she had sat on and crouched in front of him to unlace his boots. They were hard to tug off and she almost went sprawling across the beach when the first one came loose. Leo’s hands shot out to steady her and she smiled up at him. With the other boot deposited on the rocks she slipped her hand into her husband’s and together they picked their way to the water’s edge.
‘Don’t tell me that’s not refreshing.’
‘I have to admit it isn’t a bad sensation on such a hot day.’
‘And nothing terrible has happened just because you’ve decided to dip a toe in the English Channel.’
Leo grumbled something incomprehensible, but Annabelle could tell he was enjoying himself. The frown on his face was relaxing and he gripped her hand with his as if happy to be sharing this moment with her.
They carefully moved a little deeper, so the water was at ankle height, Annabelle adjusting her hold on her dress to avoid it getting wet from the spray. She saw Leo glance down at her bare calves, but he didn’t say anything and Annabelle refused to feel anything but wonderful freedom paddling in the sea.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly after a few moments of enjoying the sun on her face and the water between her toes.
‘What for?’
‘For taking me away from my old life. If you hadn’t proposed to me, I would be stuck in that cottage in Eastbourne, running around after my mother. Instead I’m here.’
Next to her Leo shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. Annabelle fought the urge to roll her eyes at her husband.
‘If you tell me one more time that this isn’t how our lives will normally be, I swear I might scream, Leonard Ashburton,’ she said quickly.
He looked at her for a long moment and then laughed. ‘I suppose I have been being a bit over the top.’
‘Just a little. If I promise never to fall in love with you and never to expect you to spend all your time with me, do you promise to stop reminding me what sort of marriage we agreed upon?’
‘That sounds like a fair deal.’
‘Good.’ She grinned and, feeling more light-hearted than she had for a long time, brought her foot down in the water and splashed him. ‘Now I know you’re not the sort of gentleman to retaliate.’ She looked him squarely in the eye and splashed him again.
He looked down at the water splatters on his trousers and she held her breath as she waited to see how he would respond. When he brought his own foot down in the water to splash her, she felt something lighten inside her. She cried out as the water flew up her legs. It was refreshing, but cold all the same. Dancing away, she kicked out and splashed him again, dodging backwards and enjoying the rare sight of a broad grin on her husband’s face.
Annabelle hiked her skirt a little higher, not caring that her knees were exposed, then leaned down and used her hands to splash out at Leo. As she stood back up she felt her feet slipping on the rock she had positioned herself on, sliding forward and out from underneath her. In a desperate attempt to keep her balance she dropped her skirts, instantly feeling the weight of the water as they became sodden. Leo reached out for her, gripping her hands, but it was too late. With a big splash she fell into the sea, landing on her bottom and pulling Leo off balance so he landed half on top of her.
For a moment neither of them moved and then to her surprise Leo burst out laughing. His laugh was contagious and soon Annabelle was giggling away, too, unable to move from the sea, her hands slipping on the wet rock every time she tried to push herself up, only to collapse again in a fit of laughter.
Only when they did finally fall silent did Leo seem to realise their position. His legs were pressed against hers in the most intimate manner and one hand was on her hip. For a long moment his eyes came up to meet hers and Annabelle felt certain he was about to kiss her. She felt her lips open instinctively, ready to welcome him, even though she’d never been kissed before. When he shifted away from her she felt a crushing disappointment.
‘Let me help you,’ he said, his voice gruff. He managed to stand, his trousers clinging to his legs and buttocks as he moved out of the water, and Annabelle couldn’t help but stare. Strong hands pulled her up, helping her to find her feet. ‘That was refreshing at least.’
Annabelle couldn’t find the words to reply. She was still stunned by her response to him. Despite his conventional manner she had gradually grown fond of her husband over the last few days together and she couldn’t deny he was an attractive man, but her response when she thought he might kiss her had shocked her. She was ready to welcome him, to pull him to her and never let go.
‘Shall we head back to the cottage?’
She nodded, taking his arm when he offered it to help her over the rocky beach. As they pulled on their shoes before ascending the narrow path on the cliffs she kept reliving the moment and felt herself blush. For a second she had thought he wanted to kiss her, she had forgotten her appearance, the way her scars made people’s stomachs turn.
‘Ready?’
‘Yes,’ she said, following him up to the clifftop. As they started to stroll back across the fields Annabelle felt some of her equilibrium returning. Leo was quiet and it allowed her to reason with herself, telling herself it was only natural she be drawn to Leo. He was the first person other than her sister or mother she had spent a substantial amount of time with and he was looking out for her in his own way. It was likely she had just mistaken gratitude for something more.
Halfway back to the cottage they slowed as a group of four men started heading towards them. They looked hot, filthy from a day working in the fields, and as so
on as she saw them Annabelle’s heart sank. She hated that she responded like this to people, hated that her experiences had taught her to think the worst of men she didn’t know, but they were loud and rowdy and she knew their eyes would soon fall upon her face.
Wishing now she had worn her bonnet with the veil, wishing she had anything to hide her face behind, she looked down, hoping they would just walk on by without saying anything cruel.
As they passed the men fell silent and Annabelle felt their eyes on her. They said nothing directly to her and did not start speaking again until they were almost out of earshot, but still she heard snippets floating on the late afternoon breeze.
‘Did you see those scars?’
‘Wonder what happened?’
‘Wouldn’t show my face.’
She bit her lip to stop herself from reacting and dipped her head even lower, meaning to pick up her pace and get back to the cottage as quickly as possible.
‘Annabelle,’ Leo said softly, stopping and waiting until she stopped with him. ‘Don’t listen to them.’
‘I’m not.’
‘They don’t know what they’re talking about.’
‘I really am not bothered, Leo.’ It was a lie, of course it was a lie. Over the years she had become accustomed to people whispering behind their hands about her, giving her second glances as if trying to work out what had happened to mar her otherwise pretty face. Even though she had barely mixed with anyone except her mother and sister and the few servants left at Birling View in the past few years, there had always been someone who had slipped past her defences. The farmer who owned the land next to theirs visiting to enquire about a lost sheep, the boy who had come to sweep their chimneys, even the dressmaker her mother had brought to the house years ago when they could still afford new dresses. All of them had stared and then looked away in embarrassment, and then, when they thought she wasn’t looking, stared again.
‘I can see it in your eyes,’ he said, taking a step closer to her, his hand coming up and resting on her cheek without the scars. ‘I can see the hurt and the pain.’
