Silent Dreams

by Monroe, Jennifer

Annabel had never felt more embarrassed in all her life. She was unable to speak and her throat was parched. Panic washed over her as she realized that Don Ricardo would think her some mamby-pamby woman who fainted at every turn. Perhaps this had been a mistake!

  “I endured the same reaction just two days past,” Don Ricardo said with a reassuring smile. “I find that fresh air is most often the cure when my head becomes light.” He gave Annabel a wink when her aunt’s back was turned, and Annabel had to stifle a giggle. He was quite perceptive to have noticed her discomfort.

  “I tend to agree with you, Don Ricardo,” her aunt said. “I will open the window.”

  Annabel hid her disappointment. She had hoped they would take a nice stroll through the garden. Her aunt would accompany them, of course, but they would have some bit of privacy; more than they would have in the drawing room.

  “Please, sit,” her aunt said, motioning to the chair beside Annabel. “Annabel, you will sit beside me on the sofa.”

  “Yes, Auntie.”

  “I have never seen a grander home than yours,” Don Ricardo said. “Upon approaching, I thought it must be a castle and the home to a princess.”

  That was twice now that he had named her as such, and Annabel feared if he did so again, she would tell him that she was indeed a princess!

  “You are kind,” her aunt said. She turned to Annabel. “Would you like to invite Don Ricardo to see the gardens?”

  Annabel felt a rush of relief. “I would,” she said, smoothing her skirts without thinking about it. “Don Ricardo?” Her aunt placed a hand over hers, and Annabel stopped her movements.

  “It would be an honor,” he replied.

  Annabel began smoothing her skirts again, but her aunt took her by the elbow and tapped twice, a signal to stop. How many times had Annabel seen Aunt Eleanor do the same to one of her daughters? It never occurred to her that she would need the same warning.

  Don Ricardo did not seem to notice. “I can only imagine how grand they must be,” he said as he stood.

  Aunt Eleanor placed a white wrap over Annabel’s shoulders and handed her a bonnet before donning her own, and the three made their way to the door that led to the back veranda.

  “Lady Lambert,” Don Ricardo said as he stepped aside to allow Annabel and her aunt to exit before him, “I have not been in this great country long, but I have never seen a home such as yours. I assume it is unusual to own a home of this size when you are not a member of the Royal Family. That would be the case for a member of the aristocracy in my country.”

  Her aunt nodded. “We are fortunate to have such a home.”

  Annabel placed her hand atop the arm Don Ricardo offered her, and it occurred to her that the sun was stronger than she had first thought, for her body felt much warmer than it should have. Or was it something else that was bringing about such a flushed feeling

  ***

  As they walked at a leisurely pace, Aunt Eleanor behind Annabel and Don Ricardo at a discrete distance, Annabel could not help but feel as if her feet were floating above the ground. The conversation thus far had been polite discussion about the weather in England compared to Spain and the types of food one might eat in comparison, which Annabel learned was not all that different from what she ate every day.

  At the end of the path sat a flowerbed filled with a variety of rose bushes, and Don Ricardo stopped to inhale their fragrance.

  “Roses offer a variety of colors from which one must choose a favorite,” he said with a small smile. “Therefore, I ask myself, if I were to select just one, which would Miss Annabel appreciate the most?”

  “And have you a guess?”

  “Indeed, I do. Red represents the fire of the early sun and the passion with which one might view life.” He moved to the next bush. “Yellow suits you well, for it matches the color of the dress you chose to wear today.”

  She glanced down and giggled. She had, indeed, chosen a yellow dress with white daisies embroidered across the bodice.

  “However, white is the color of purity and of hope. For I hope to find a wonderful life in this new land, and I would hope you wish the same for yourself.”

  Annabel nodded. “I do hope for a wonderful life.” She sighed dreamily. “Don Ricardo, what a magical way to describe the roses.”

  “I am unsure if magic is the word I would use. I once lost a pound when someone made a coin disappear before my very eyes.” He chuckled. “The desires of the heart are what we must follow and that which should lead us. Whether it be in the selection of the perfect rose or a step on a new path, those who allow their hearts to guide them can surely find only that which they desire.”

  It was strange, but Annabel imagined the man picking her up and carrying her away just as his words were doing at this moment. Instead, she returned her hand to his arm and they continued their stroll.

  She glanced at the medals on his red sash, and a question came to mind. “Did you receive your medals for bravery in war?”

  “I am afraid not,” he replied, “for I have not been to war. Many of these came from King Charles for my counsel during times of great distress. It was a great responsibility.”

  “Yet, you did well,” Annabel replied. “Or so demonstrate your medals.”

  The path opened up to a large field of rolling green hills, and they stopped at a low gate.

  “The medals show appreciation for my counsel,” the marquess continued. “Many men have given their lives and will never see such reward for their deeds, but I believe those who have died in honor have received the greatest gift.”

  “Are you saying that to die is a reward?”

  He nodded. “To give one’s life for a cause in which they believe is a great honor. Granted, they are gone, but they are never forgotten.”

  “I have never considered it in that way,” Annabel said in awe. “It is no wonder your king sought your counsel.”

  “I believe we should no longer speak of myself lest I believe I am as great as my medals demonstrate,” he said with a wink. “Tell me something of yourself, Miss Annabel.”

  A wave of nervousness washed over her. She glanced at her aunt, who gave her an encouraging smile. Remembering the woman’s advice concerning confidence, Annabel straightened her back—and hoped she did not stumble over her words.

  “I enjoy reading poetry,” she said, glad her voice did not tremble in any way. “My cousin Hanna writes books, and she has encouraged me to write my own. One day I may, but I still am unsure. I love horses and desire to explore the countryside whenever I can.”

  Don Ricardo raised his brows. “I enjoy those things, as well. Might I recite a few lines of poetry for you? I wrote it just last evening.”

  The man writes poetry? she thought with a quickening heart. “Yes, please.”

  When he gazed down at her, the warming sensation came over her again as he began to recite:

  The hour draws to midnight

  And I stand alone at the gate.

  The passing of a new season is at hand.

  Will my love arrive?

  The stars will join as one

  As my heart wishes for her.

  Do I wait for her arrival?

  Or do I do as the coward would do

  And retreat?

  No! I shall wait for eternity

  To lay my eyes on her again.

  Annabel swallowed hard, praying for moisture to return to her throat. “That was beautiful,” she managed to say.

  He leaned in and whispered, “I will be waiting at the gate.”

  The poem had been for her! Not only that, but he was leaving instructions for meeting him. If what she understood was true, come midnight tomorrow, he would be waiting for her.

  Despite her reluctance to go against her aunt’s wishes, a deep desire to have this man show her this wondrous constellation won out over common sense. “I hope,” she said as she placed her hand on his arm once again, “to experience that poem.”

  When he returned her words with
a smile, she knew he had heard her reply in that cryptic message. The thought of him coming to see her in secret sent her pulse racing, and she found she could not wait for the time to arrive.

  ***

  When the time came for them to say farewell, Annabel stood with her aunt on the portico too see off the young Spaniard.

  “I will send a card. If I may, of course.” He said the last to her aunt, who gave him a nod of acquiescence, which he returned with a bow. “In all my life I have never felt more welcome than I have this day. Your kindness and graciousness will be cherished. Muchísimas gracias.”

  Annabel had never heard anyone speak Spanish before, and upon hearing his words, the lightheadedness returned. “And what does that mean?” she asked breathily.

  “It means ‘Thank you very much’.” He looked into her eyes. “The hour draws closer to midnight.”

  Attempting to keep her trembling under control, Annabel curtsied. “Until next time,” she said.

  “Yes, until next time,” he replied as he took her hand and kissed it. “It has been an honor, Miss Annabel.”

  When he released her hand, she had to force it to her side rather than stare at it like a child receiving her first ribbon.

  He bowed to her aunt and then made his way to the waiting carriage. Soon it was pulling away, but he leaned out the window and shouted, “A house so grand only eclipsed by the ladies who dwell within it!”

  Annabel could not stop the sigh that escaped her lips.

  Her aunt snaked an arm through hers. “Come and walk with me,” she said. “I wish to speak to you.”

  “Did I embarrass you in some way, Auntie?” she asked carefully. What she hoped was that the woman had not heard the secret message in their words.

  “No, you were the perfect lady today. In fact, I have never been prouder of you.”

  Annabel beamed under her aunt’s compliments.

  “The man is very special,” Aunt Eleanor continued. “Would you agree?”

  “I would. Some of his actions and words are strange, but that does not matter.”

  “May I ask why it does not matter?”

  They walked past the stables, the strong odor of oats and straw assailing Annabel’s nostrils. “I am unsure,” she replied. “It is as if every word he speaks captures my heart.” She stopped and turned to her aunt. “I do not mean in a romantic sense. It is just that he is so very interesting. I have never met anyone quite like him.”

  “He is interesting,” her aunt said. “And I suspect he is much more. But I am glad you are finding happiness with him.” The woman glanced around as if expecting someone to appear. “I received a letter from your father two days ago. I did not want to tell you in fear it would upset you.”

  Annabel felt a tightening in her chest. “What did it say?”

  “He received word from Lord Agar. They will be here in a fortnight.”

  “A fortnight!” Annabel gasped. “Oh, Auntie, what am I to do? I do not wish to marry that man!”

  “I told you before that you will not,” Aunt Eleanor said as she took Annabel’s hands in hers. “I sent word to Juliet. You leave in a week to join her. For how long I do not know, but it is the only way to keep you safe.”

  “You would do that for me?” Annabel asked.

  “I would,” came her aunt’s firm reply. She reached up and wiped away tears from Annabel’s cheek. “I will not have you hurt or married to such a man.”

  “Father and Mother will be very angry,” Annabel said with a sniffle. The world around her began to spin. “What will you tell them? What will I do when they no longer wish to speak to me? And what of Don Ricardo?”

  Her aunt gave her a stern, but kind, look. “I will speak with them when they arrive, so you need not worry about what I tell them. As for Don Ricardo, I shall tell him the same story that I tell your parents. That Hannah has asked you to join her for a month and that you are near Cornwall—we do not want them learning you are with Juliet. From there, I shall think on what to do.”

  Annabel threw her arms around her aunt. “Oh, thank you, Auntie! I love you so much.”

  “And I love you,” her aunt said in Annabel’s ear. “Now, let us return to the house and enjoy our time together. I fear it may be some time before you return once you leave me.”

  Her aunt’s words pained Annabel’s heart. She would miss the woman terribly. And Scarlett Hall. Although it would be wonderful to see Juliet again, she felt sorrow concerning Don Ricardo. She would have to say goodbye to the man, as well, and it was something she realized she did not want to do.

  Chapter Nine

  If Annabel thought herself in a dilemma before, when Sunday arrived, her dilemma turned into a right state of perplexity. In less than two hours, Don Ricardo would be waiting for her at the gate to Scarlett Hall, and although Annabel had sneaked out of the house before, she only did so in the company of Juliet for one adventure or another. Never had she attempted to do so on her own. To even consider such an act, to meet a man alone titled or not, would bring about great shame if she were caught, and she could not do that to the woman who had cared for her more than her own mother ever had.

  Annabel sighed. If her aunt had been there, she would have commented on Annabel wearing a path in the floor or some other sort of admonishment for her pacing, but Annabel found she could not help herself. Pacing allowed her to think, and now she had to think more than at any other time of her life.

  She glanced at the hands on the mantel clock. They were moving all the faster. If she was to leave to visit Juliet next week, she may not be able to see Don Ricardo again. The thought brought on a heavy sadness. Either choice—to go or not to go—carried great risk, and Annabel could do nothing to unwind the knot of worry in her stomach.

  The door opened, and Annabel spun about as Aunt Eleanor entered the room. Perhaps the woman’s appearance was a sign that Annabel should go to bed and forget about this covert liaison.

  “Oh, good, you are here,” her aunt said in a hurried rush. “I must leave. A messenger arrived and Isabel is unwell and wishes me by her side.”

  Annabel gasped. Here she was considering slipping away and her cousin was ill! “What is wrong? She is not deathly ill, is she?” Just the thought made her insides knot even further.

  “No,” her aunt replied with a small smile that belied the concern behind her tone. “I am not certain, but I believe she may be with child.”

  So, her aunt was not concerned but elated! Annabel had never been very good at recognizing people’s feelings through their actions. It did not help that her guilt kept her mind hostage.

  “Oh, Auntie!” Annabel said as she threw her arms around the woman. “I am so happy for her. Do you wish for me to join you? It will not take long to pack a bag.”

  “I appreciate your offer, but at this late hour, I believe it would not be prudent for His Grace to have too many guests.”

  Annabel nodded, although she suspected James would not mind. Perhaps her aunt wanted to be alone with her daughter to share the special moment. As she thought this, a wave of sadness washed over her.

  “What is wrong, my dear?”

  “I am happy for you and for Isabel. If what you believe is true, she has a new life growing inside her, and he or she will bring great joy.” She wiped a tear from her cheek wishing she was not acting like a child herself at the moment. “Yet, I cannot help but think that one day when I am with child, my own mother will still not want to be near me. I worry I will be alone.”

  Aunt Eleanor pulled her in for another hug. “I shall be there for you, as will your cousins. You will never be alone.”

  Annabel sobbed into her aunt’s shoulder for several moments. She was acting childish! A woman of eighteen did not spend her days feeling sorry for herself. Therefore, she pulled away and took the handkerchief her aunt offered her. “Thank you for putting up with me,” she said with a sniffle.

  “Nonsense,” her aunt said as she brushed aside a strand of hair from Annabel’s f
ace. “Your feelings are your own, and I love you all the more for them. Now, Forbes is waiting for me. We will return very late, more than likely just before sunrise, so go to bed soon, and I will see you when you awaken in the morning.”

  “I will.”

  After Aunt Eleanor left the room, Annabel glanced at the clock once more. “Soon he will be waiting at the gate,” she whispered as she wrung her hands together. The sign she thought she understood had changed. Her aunt would be gone for the entire night and therefore would never learn if Annabel left the house. Viewing the constellation could not last long; she would be back and in bed long before sunrise.

  Annabel despised choices, but she had to make one. Either she retire to bed as her aunt suggested or meet Don Ricardo at the gate. Although she was never one willing to disobey her aunt, this time she must, for the man waiting could very well be the man for whom she had always wished.

  “We will not be leaving the grounds of Scarlett Hall,” she told herself firmly, a means to justify her decision. The property was so grand that heartache had never breached its walls, and so, with a new confidence, Annabel hurried to her room to collect her wrap and prepare herself to meet the marquess.

  ***

  At fifteen minutes to midnight, Annabel stepped out into the night and pulled her wrap tighter around her. The moon was full, but it was not yet red, and to her disappointment, few stars filled the bright sky.

  Perhaps that comes when the moon changes, Annabel mused.

  She had no fear anyone would catch her sneaking away into the night. Forbes was with her aunt, and the servants had long since retired for the night. Yet, as she walked down the pebbled drive that led away from Scarlett Hall, she feared she may have made the wrong decision. Don Ricardo was the perfect gentleman; would her decision to see him alone change his opinion of her?

  Yet, no. He had been the one to suggest this rendezvous in the first place, so why would he think less of her for a thing he had recommended? She could be quite silly at times!

  Nonetheless, as she approached the gate, she stopped short when she saw someone standing in the shadows. He had come! A small part of her had thought he would not, that she had misunderstood the message of the poem he had recited for her. Yet, there he was.