***
The drawing room had always been one of Annabel’s favorite spaces in Scarlett Hall. With its rich red rugs and gold cloth furniture, she and Juliet spent many days sharing stories while curled up on the sofa or sitting before the fire. Juliet had a way of telling tales that took one away from the atrocities of one’s life into the realm of wonder.
Yet, sitting on the sofa between her mother and aunt as Lord Agar continued to speak, Annabel wished to be in any other room but this one. She had entered thirty minutes earlier—thirty minutes!—and the only word she had spoken was in greeting to her parents and the earl. Otherwise, she remained silent.
In a way, it was a relief that Lord Agar did not require any response to his ramblings. She preferred to sit quietly, which allowed her mind to wander of its own accord. She had learned how to nod in all the right places to assure her parents, or whomever she was supposed to be listening to, she was not ignoring them. The only people who truly held her attention were her cousins and her aunt. Everyone else was no more than murmurs of sound around her.
At the moment, her mind was on what her life could have been. Of parents who loved and cared for her. A gentleman who would one day do the same.
“Do not embarrass me further with your posture,” her mother snapped in a low whisper, breaking her from her lovely thoughts. “For once try to make me happy.”
“Yes, Mother.” Annabel’s heart ached. When she looked at Lord Agar once again, a cold sensation washed over her. As he spoke, his eyes raked over her, and he did not hide the lust in them.
“What you say is correct,” her father said. “It is why women are not allowed to be concerned in areas of money or management of estates.” He glared at her aunt, his lip curled. “For instance, take my family home of Scarlett Hall. For generations, the men have controlled a vast fortune. Yet, when Charles died, the estate nearly came to ruin due to mismanagement, or so say the rumors.”
Although her face showed no reaction to his words, Aunt Eleanor flinched, and it broke Annabel’s heart that her father would speak to the woman in such a hateful manner. “Father,” Annabel said, surprised her voice was not shaking, “I can assure you that the estate is not, nor has it been, near ruin. In fact, Aunt Eleanor…”
“Enough!” her father said with a raise of his hand. “You know better than to speak back to a man, let alone your father.”
Annabel hung her head. “Yes, Father. I am sorry.”
“Your lack of discipline has embarrassed both your mother and myself in the past, and now you seek to do so again in front of an honored guest?” He shook his head. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Annabel wanted to weep. No matter what she said or did, the man was never pleased.
Instead of answering, she shook her head, which only made her father angrier.
“And now she does not speak to me!” he bellowed. “Such insolence!”
“Silas,” Aunt Eleanor said, “the girl is nervous. Yelling at her will not make matters any better.”
Annabel’s mother frowned. “Apologize to Lord Agar this instant,” she snapped at Annabel.
Annabel stared at her mother in disbelief and had to snap her jaw shut when she realized it was hanging open.
Her mother’s face showed no expression of mercy as she spoke again. “You will embarrass us no longer. Now, apologize!”
It had always been a concept Annabel never understood, this loathing her mother had for her daughter. No matter how horrible she had been treated, a small part of her—no a large part of her—wanted to please the woman.
Therefore, she smoothed her skirts and turned to Lord Agar. “My apologies for my behavior, my lord.”
The man gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Such things happen.” He rose, and Annabel breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to take his leave, and she would be allowed to return to her room—far away from him.
“Such pressures are put on young women from an early age,” the earl said, his gray eyes twinkling. “Perhaps Annabel could use some fresh air. She can show me the gardens at the same time. What say you?”
What she had hoped would not happen did, and she would have no choice in the matter. “Yes, my lord.” She rose from the sofa.
“I think that is a lovely idea,” her mother said with a sickly-sweet tone.
Her aunt stood, as well, and smiled, clearly forced, but a smile, nonetheless. “I would be happy…”
Her father jumped from his chair, and Annabel flinched. How could she have made him angry again? “There will be no need for a chaperon. The gardens are just outside the door. It is not as if they are traveling to London alone together.”
“Surely the rules of propriety would say she must have a chaperon,” Aunt Eleanor said.
Annabel gave her mother a beseeching look. “Mother?”
“Do as your father says for once,” the woman replied with such venom, Annabel had to bite her lip to keep back tears.
With a nod, Annabel walked to the door, her legs as heavy as her heart.
“We will not be gone long,” Lord Agar said as he opened the door that led from the drawing room to the veranda behind the house. “Unless Miss Annabel gives me an extended tour.” He grasped Annabel’s elbow, and her stomach rolled.
“There is no hurry,” Annabel’s father called out after them. “It is best if you two discuss the arrangements that have been made thus far.”
Annabel fought back the panic that threatened to overtake her as Lord Agar led her down the steps and out to the garden path. What arrangements had been made? She went to ask the earl, but his smile told her all she needed to know.
***
Few clouds dotted the otherwise clear sky and the sun shone on the cobbled path upon which they walked. Annabel prayed it was an omen of what was to come—not that she would be with Lord Agar but that her path would be clear—but somehow she doubted it was the case. How many times had she seen the sun highlight the path before her in the past and it did nothing to predict the outcome of her life? All too many times.
Lord Agar stopped beside a rose bush and smelled one of the blossoms. “They are quite beautiful, are they not?” he asked. “It is a pity that such flowers can only be enjoyed for a season. I have many at Direwood Estate. That is my home. I believe you will enjoy them as much as I.” He looked her up and down again, his tongue tracing his lips.
Fear clenched her. How she wished her aunt was with her! Or Juliet. Her cousin had a strong will, and she would have dressed down the man for acting so brazenly.
They continued down the path, and Annabel turned in the direction that led them back to the house. Lord Agar, however, pulled her in the opposite direction.
“The house is this way, my lord,” Annabel said, hoping the man had simply lost his bearings in the maze of hedges. “I should not be out of sight of my parents. Father will become angry.”
“Your father has given me permission to make whatever decision I think best when it comes to you,” Lord Agar said, his silver hair glinting in the sun. Annabel went to speak, but he snapped, “Do not argue with me.”
She had no choice but to be led along the path, out of sight of those who could protect her.
“I would like to ask you a question concerning your cousin, Miss Juliet.”
“There is not much to tell, my lord,” Annabel said. “She is married, so she is Mrs. Haskins now. If you wish to know if a friend is able to court her, he cannot.”
Lord Agar curled his lip. “The cobbler in town? You were there when she was attacked?”
“I was. Or rather, I was there after it happened.”
He stopped and tightened his grip on her elbow to the point she winced from the pain. “Tell me. Did you engage in inappropriate acts with the cobbler?”
Annabel shook her head, appalled at the man’s insinuation. “Certainly not! Do you believe I am a woman who would do such things?”
The earl snorted. “Any woman who seeks to disappoint her parents wi
ll do a host of things others would not. Do you wish to continue to disappoint them?”
Annabel gaped at the man. “I do not wish to do so, no.”
When Lord Agar spoke again, she knew she should have held her tongue. “That is good, an admirable trait that I wish in the woman I now court. Your parents have approved of my request, in case you were concerned about ‘propriety’.” His smile was a leer. “Do not worry. Our courtship will be brief.”
“It will?” Annabel asked with relief. “So, you do not mean to court me for very long?”
“Of course not,” the man replied. “Arrangements have already been made for your hand. We will marry in just a few months.”
The world spun around Annabel and she thought her legs would no longer hold her. She recoiled as Lord Agar grabbed both her arms, his hold as possessive as before. “Do you recall the last time we were alone?”
She swallowed hard. How could she forget? “Yes,” she whispered, unable to stop the single tear from escaping her eye.
“That was when I realized just how beautiful you are,” the earl said, his grip tightening. “A woman for whose hand I would pay a hefty sum. And that is exactly what I will do for yours.”
Every ounce of strength left Annabel. Her life was now forfeit. She wanted to scream, to run away, but the man’s grip would not allow it.
“Are you not thankful that I view you as such a prized possession?” he asked. He did not give her the opportunity to reply. “I will be leaving in a few days to settle some accounts. I will be gone for some time, thus the reason we are unable to marry immediately. When I return, however, your parents shall receive their money, and you will be my bride. You will give me such lovely children. And the making of them! What fun that will be!”
Something wriggled its way into the numbness that had settled upon her—strength perhaps? Whatever it was, she grasped hold of it, nonetheless. “I do not wish to marry you.”
He placed a hand beneath her chin. The man repulsed her, there was no doubt, but what filled his eyes terrified her. Annabel had seen that same look in the eyes of Robert Mullins, the cobbler, yet what Lord Agar’s possessed was far greater.
“I-It is kind of you to view me as worthy,” she stammered, “but you must understand. You are thrice my age, my lord. Surely you must see that I am much too young…”
“Do not insult me!” he growled through clenched teeth, his eyes darkening with anger. “I am doing everything for you, and unless you want to upset your parents, you will do as I say. Now, thank me for my kindness.”
“Thank you?” she asked in shock. Such a request made no sense! “You wish for me to thank you for wanting to marry me?”
Lord Agar nodded as if what he was asking was of no consequence, as if it was his due. “Yes. If you wish, I can return to your parents now and tell them how you have disappointed me. Perhaps they will sell your hand to me immediately for a smaller sum. Then we could marry in a fortnight rather than months.”
What the man said was true. Her father might take her away from Scarlett Hall this very day and force her to marry the man sooner rather than later. If she had to keep Lord Agar happy, she could pretend to cooperate in order to buy time to escape.
“Thank you, my lord, for your generosity,” she said, forcing a smile and hoping he did not hear her reluctance and take it as sarcasm. “You are a kind man.”
Lord Agar smirked. “You learn quickly. Obedience to me as your husband will be well rewarded.”
Although she nodded, Annabel knew that the marriage would not happen, for her aunt had promised her as much. Aunt Eleanor would find a way to stop it. For now, she would have to pretend to be happy, or at least resigned—it had been much too long since she had been happy to be successful in pretending to be.
***
When Annabel told her parents that she had accepted Lord Agar’s proposal of marriage, she had never seen them so pleased, at least not for something she had done. The words were barely out of her mouth when her mother dismissed her so she and Annabel’s father could discuss matters of business with her future husband.
Although she was thankful to no longer be forced to endure the presence of the abhorrent man, her heart was shattered at the thought of being treated like nothing more than a possession.
For an hour, Annabel paced her room, desperately trying to devise a plan of action. First, she would write Juliet to see if she and Daniel would allow her to live with them. Juliet had said as much before she and her fiancé had eloped, and Annabel hoped her cousin would still want her. Their bond was great; she doubted Juliet would deny her this request.
If for some reason Juliet did not agree, Annabel would then turn to Hannah. One way or another, she would be away from Scarlett Hall and thus away from the possibility of marrying Lord Agar.
The door opened, making Annabel start, believing it was her parents. However, her aunt entered the room instead.
“They are gone,” Aunt Eleanor said as she hurried over and took Annabel into her arms. “I am sorry for what you were forced to endure.”
Annabel clasped onto the woman with every bit of strength she had, as if she were grasping a log to keep from drowning. She had promised herself she would not allow her burdens to fall on the woman who was more a mother to her than her own mother, but grief overwhelmed her, and she began to sob. “Lord Agar…he kissed me again and said I will marry him and have his children. Oh, Auntie, I do not want this, but I know I have no choice.”
Her aunt pulled away and gave her a stern look, although her eyes were rimmed with red. “Good things have come out of the talk we had.”
“Good?” Annabel asked. “How could any of it be good? I am being bartered as if I were an animal on the auction block. Did my price come high?”
“Let us sit,” her aunt said as she led Annabel to the bed. Once they were seated, she took Annabel’s hand in her own. “During the discussion, a few things became evident. The most important was that Lord Agar is not as wealthy as he has led others to believe.”
A small glimmer of hope coursed through Annabel. “Is he not?”
“No. In fact, the man is in financial trouble, hence why he is leaving in an attempt to sell property in order to raise more funds. What I am saying is that the man cannot offer the money your father wants at this moment.”
Annabel squealed and hugged her aunt. “Oh, Auntie! Thank you!”
“Now, we must discuss a few things,” her aunt said. “We must assume the worst—that the man will come up with the required moneys.”
Annabel’s heart sank for a moment.
“No, this is good!” Aunt Eleanor said. “As an eligible young lady, you will be attending parties for the time being. Perhaps you will meet a nice gentleman of whom your parents will approve before Lord Agar returns. They have declined your acceptance of the proposal until his return to prove he will be able to pay the price for which they are asking, so that leaves you free to accept suitors to come calling.”
“But what if Lord Agar announces that we are courting? Will that not keep others from approaching me?”
Aunt Eleanor laughed. “Is he courting you? Surely an old man is spreading rumors. Plus, he will not be here to argue against them.”
Annabel could not help but smile. Then a new thought came to mind. “If I do not find such a gentleman, what will happen then?”
Her aunt brushed back a strand of Annabel’s hair. “It is my duty to protect you as if you were one of my own. I would do the same for any of my children. Therefore, as long as you are in my house, I will have my say. And I say you will not marry that man. Let Silas and Joanna do what they can to stop me.”
Tears rolled down Annabel’s cheeks unchecked. “May I share something with you?”
“Of course. You know you can always tell me anything.”
“I have spent the majority of my life here at Scarlett Hall, and to be truthful, you have always made me feel as if I were a part of your family.” She wiped tears from her eyes.
“I know it is not kind to say, but since I was young, I wished you were my mother.”
Annabel had witnessed many things at Scarlett Hall, and one had been the strength of the woman who sat beside her at this moment. Aunt Eleanor had endured much, most of which she never shared. Annabel might not know most of what her aunt had been forced to suffer, but she recognized grief and anguish, for she had lived it herself. In all the years she had spent with the woman, never had she seen her shed a single tear. Now, however, one rolled down her cheek, the rarest of sights.
Aunt Eleanor leaned forward and kissed Annabel’s forehead. “I have often thought the same,” she whispered. She pulled Annabel in for another tight embrace and then pulled away. “We will go to town tomorrow and select new dresses for you. It is time to make your debut into society, and you cannot do that without proper attire.”
Annabel smiled. “Thank you. I would like that.”
With a nod, her aunt left the room, and Annabel let out a heavy sigh. The world around her had come close to collapsing, and yet, now there was hope. Hope that the chances of a marriage to Lord Agar had been delayed-or even stopped. Hope that she would be happy. And hope that a man much like the one in her dreams would find her and take her away from the pain forced upon her. She knew he had to exist in the real world. Somewhere.
Chapter Three
Edward Wolcott winced at the sight of one of the most horrific things he had witnessed in a very long time. In fact, it was so terrible, he nearly dropped the bottle of brandy he held in his hand as he stood in the front garden of his cottage. A couple to whom he had spoken in the past only on occasion walked on the road directly in front of his house. They wore wide smiles as the man proclaimed his love for the woman on his arm to any and all who would listen—rich or poor, young or old—and the sight made Edward want to empty his stomach right then and there.
He had lived in the village of Penningford not six months, and he had already been barraged with the tales of love his neighbor had for his wife.
Silent Dreams Page 2
