Annabelle: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters' Series Book 2)

by Audrey Harrison

“I saw him get those injuries; I winced at every blow and kick that was rained down on him. He needs to see a doctor; please send for one immediately.” Annabelle was not shouting; in fact, her voice was not raised at all, but there was steel behind the words. The valet received a slight nod from his master and left the room immediately.

  “There is really no need,” Frederick said, slightly amused at the protectiveness of his wife.

  “There is every need; I do not wish for you to suddenly deteriorate during the night. Have you seen your reflection? You look a sight!” Annabelle said.

  “Yes, I have,” Frederick admitted. He had also seen the bruising on his body, which had shocked him, but he would not worry her with that. Instead he decided to tease her. “Does this mean you care about me just a little?”

  Annabelle immediately flushed. “You know the answer to that!” she said quickly.

  “Do I?” Frederick pushed.

  “Of course!”

  “I don’t recall ever hearing you say that you care,” Frederick persisted.

  “I…well, I…haven’t said anything,” Annabelle responded, her cheeks feeling far too hot for her comfort.

  “And yet you expect me to know you have feelings for me,” came the smug response.

  Annabelle walked over to the side of the bed and punched Frederick in the arm. “I don’t kiss people I don’t care about!” Frederick winced at her touch and immediately Annabelle was contrite. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think!”

  Frederick smiled as much as his mouth would let him. “It was my own fault for antagonising you. I should know that someone who, without a thought of her own safety, throws herself on the back of an attacker would be able to pack a punch.”

  Annabelle sank on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t know what else to do; I just knew they were getting the upper hand.”

  “Yes, the odds weren’t the best,” Frederick admitted.

  “You put up a splendid fight,” Annabelle said, admiration in her voice. It was true; if the odds had been even, or two to one, she was sure her husband would have been the victor.

  “Thank you; it comes from plenty of practice,” Frederick said drily, confirming what Annabelle had thought: that he had been forced to be a good fighter. “I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

  “You didn’t,” Annabelle said immediately. “There is no reason at all why we can’t expect to walk through a park not troubling anyone.”

  “You know as well as I, if I had been anyone else, they would have passed us without incident.”

  “Probably, but that still doesn’t mean to say it was your fault. Let’s forget it,” Annabelle said.

  “I’m not sure I will for quite some time, if ever,” Frederick said, grimacing when he tried to move.

  Annabelle reached out her hand and placed it over his. “You must agree to rest; your body has been through so much, I’m surprised you’re not unconscious.”

  “Practice at covering the vital organs,” Frederick said flippantly but then continued when he saw Annabelle’s expression. “Now don’t do that; my mother does exactly the same!”

  “What?” Annabelle said bewildered.

  “Look pained as if you want me to pretend that nothing is amiss. I accept who I am Annabelle: there are considerations that have to be made; I just forgot them for a while.”

  “Well, you’re safe now; that’s all that matters,” Annabelle said with feeling.

  Frederick leaned back against his pillows. While he had been helped home, bathed and put to bed, his mind had been racing on how to protect Annabelle. He would not put her at such a risk again. He had been foolish in thinking they could have a normal life; he would never be able to have that. Instead he had to find a way to release Annabelle without shame or slur on her character because she deserved someone who could give her a full life not the half-life that living with him would give her.

  His musings were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor who gave a full examination and prescribed bed rest, leaving some laudanum to help him sleep. He hated the stuff but agreed to take it; the way his mind was racing, he would probably not sleep without it.

  Annabelle stayed with him until he fell into a deep sleep and left his valet in charge while she went to bed herself. She would have liked to stay, but was practical: she had taken a tumble; she needed rest as well.

  She rose early, feeling stiff and sore. After she was dressed a knock on the door revealed Frances. “Come in,” Annabelle said, moving to the side, allowing her friend access.

  “How are you this morning?” Frances asked.

  “Sore but nothing that won’t ease in a few days,” Annabelle replied cheerfully enough. “I was just on my way to see Frederick.”

  “How is he?”

  “He looks like he was beaten soundly by three men,” Annabelle replied. “I nearly cried when I saw his face last night. I don’t understand how they could continue to beat him when he was on the ground.”

  “You were brave,” Frances said. “I’m not sure I could have done what you did.”

  “I just kept thinking they were going to kill him. I suddenly could not bear the thought of losing him.” Annabelle looked as if she had been struck with a novel notion that she had not considered before.

  “Are you saying….?” Frances started.

  “Do you know, Frances, I think I am!” Annabelle said with a smile that lit up her face. “Would you excuse me? I need to see my husband.”

  Annabelle walked along the hallway with a determined step. When had it happened? she wondered; it had crept up on her in such a way she could not determine if there had been an exact moment. She was certain though: she was in love with Frederick, and she needed to tell him.

  She knocked gently before opening the door. Frederick was still lying in bed, Caroline was seated next to him; it looked as if she had been crying. Annabelle was immediately on the alert. “What’s wrong?” she asked. There was no point starting with niceties; there was obviously something amiss.

  “Caroline, leave us,” Frederick asked. “I need to talk to Annabelle.”

  “Freddy, don’t do this,” Caroline said, grabbing his hand.

  “I have to,” Frederick said, but his tone was gentle.

  Every fibre of Annabelle’s body was screaming at her to run. She knew without doubt she was not going to like what she was about to hear, but her traitorous feet refused to move. She watched numbly as Caroline left the room, giving Annabelle such a look of sadness Annabelle wanted to grab her and wrap her in an embrace.

  A silence fell on the room when Caroline closed the door behind her that Annabelle had to build up the courage to break. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Frederick patted the side of the bed, “Come Annabelle; I need to speak to you, but you are too far away.”

  Annabelle felt as if her insides were shrivelling within her; she didn’t know what to expect, but she was not going to like it—that much was clear. “Tell me,” she responded, not moving.

  Frederick looked saddened at her refusal to come to him, but in the end it really didn’t matter. He took a breath; it had been easier to prepare what he was going to say when Annabelle was not before him, looking lost and afraid.

  “I can’t put you through a marriage with me,” he started. “It’s not fair keeping you a prisoner to try to prevent incidents like last night’s, or if we do leave the house, it puts you in danger of being hurt. The feeling I experienced when I thought they’d killed you will haunt my nights for months to come.”

  “I don’t mind not being in society; I really don’t,” Annabelle said truthfully. She did not feel comfortable as Rosalind had learned to be. Missing out on a few balls was no longer important to Annabelle. While being with Frederick and his family, she had felt accepted and cared for and had enjoyed herself. That along with the society her sisters would bring was more than enough for her.

  “But I do,” Frederick said. “You are a beautiful young woman; you should be living a full life
not a half-life with me. I cannot stand to think that, because of our marriage, you are not having the life you deserve.”

  “What are you saying?” Annabelle asked, the feeling of dread building in her stomach.

  “I have thought and thought about the best way for both of us. I cannot divorce you; the scandal would ruin you.” He paused at Annabelle’s sharp intake of breath but forced himself to continue: he was sure he was doing the right thing. “I’ve decided we will come up with some story that will take me away from England; it doesn’t matter where I go: I can live like a hermit anywhere. I can have notification sent through that I have died, and you can be a widow free to remarry and build the life you deserve.”

  “No!” Annabelle said sharply. “You cannot do it! It is throwing away your life. You would never be able to return home.”

  “I know,” Frederick responded quietly. He loved his family, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

  “This is the laudanum talking! You are not in your right mind,” Annabelle said, panicked.

  “I am, Annabelle, I promise you,” Frederick said quietly. “It’s for the best.”

  “The best for whom?” Annabelle snapped, tears springing to her eyes. “Not the best for me or you! Please say you don’t mean it!”

  “I’m sorry; I’ve already sent out correspondence to make arrangements for my travel,” Frederick said. It was true, he had awakened early despite being drugged maybe because of the turmoil his mind was in. He had finalised the plan in his own mind and then called for paper, pen and ink and sent out letters in preparation.

  Annabelle could not breathe; she had never felt so panicked in her life. Even Mr Wadeson had not had such an effect on her, and she thought nothing would surpass the fear she felt because of him. She tried to breathe, but the more she tried, the more it felt her lungs just would not work.

  She sank into a chair before her legs gave way, but her eyes never left Frederick’s. “Let me come with you,” she pleaded.

  Frederick knew what a stab to the heart felt like at Annabelle’s words, but he had to remain strong. “You will have a better life without me.”

  “You promised that you would not hurt me,” Annabelle said, the tears finally spilling forth.

  “This one time Annabelle, and I will never hurt you again. If I stay you will be constantly hurt. I’m going; nothing you can say will change my mind.”

  Annabelle stood and blindly walked out of the room; she did not return to her own bedchamber: she had to find Frances. Fortunately Frances was in her own chamber and opened the door to a sobbing Annabelle. Immediately Frances wrapped Annabelle in her arms and led her to a sofa.

  It was many minutes before Annabelle could stop crying enough to speak, even more minutes before she could explain what had happened. When Annabelle finished, she lay back on the sofa, exhausted.

  “He won’t listen to reason; I can’t say anything that will make him stay.”

  “Did you tell him that you love him?” Frances asked.

  “No, there was little point,” Annabelle replied, defeated.

  “It may have helped,” Frances said quietly.

  “I don’t think so.” Came the resigned response.

  “What are you going to do?” Frances asked, not able to offer any solution.

  “I have no idea.”

  *

  When Annabelle calmed enough that she could face another, she sought Caroline. She found her sitting in the yellow drawing room, looking pensive.

  Caroline looked up as Annabelle walked through the door. The tear-stained face and red eyes told Caroline all she needed to know. “I tried to change his mind,” she said simply.

  “As did I, but he wouldn’t listen,” Annabelle said, sitting opposite her sister-in-law. “What can we do?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Caroline said sadly. “I’ve watched him face each fresh set of ridicule or stares, wishing to beat the people who inflicted the pain on him but not being able to do a single thing. He has always had a positive attitude, appreciating the friends he did have and ignoring as best he could the rest. But this, he says he can’t risk you or your safety; he cares about you dearly.”

  Annabelle blinked back the tears that threatened once more. “And I him,” she responded.

  Caroline decided she needed to know if Annabelle was telling the truth. “I know this is impertinent of me Annabelle, but I have to ask: Frederick hinted when you first arrived that yours was not a…conventional marriage.”

  Annabelle blushed. “No it was not; it still isn’t, but I believe we were building something,” she replied.

  “Freddy hinted at something a little while back; I’d been so happy things seemed to be working out. I think he is acting now before you both get hurt worse the longer you stay together,” Caroline said, repeating some of the words her brother had said to her while trying to explain his motivation.

  “I think it’s too late for that,” Annabelle said. It was the nearest she would come to admitting to Caroline that she loved her brother.

  “Oh, Annabelle, I wish I could help.”

  “I have lost him before I could show him what he means to me,” Annabelle said, the tears falling once more.

  Chapter 10

  Frances had made a decision. She was not sure it was the right one, but she had made it anyway. It had been partly influenced by what had happened to Annabelle and Frederick; it was time to seek out Stuart and give him his answer.

  They were alone during the afternoon. Annabelle, Caroline and Mrs Hedley had all retired, unable to face company because of Frederick’s pending journey. Susan and Andrew had returned to the farm, and William was trouncing Harold at a game of billiards, although the usual joviality was missing from the match.

  Frances had been reading but placed the book down as soon as Susan and Andrew left. “Stuart, I need to explain something to you.”

  “This sounds ominous,” Stuart replied, placing his newspaper down.

  “It is, I suppose,” Frances said, trying to keep the mood light. “I thank you for your proposal but, after a lot of thought, I’m afraid I cannot accept it.”

  “May I ask why?” Stuart asked, a little surprised at the business-like tone and the refusal. He had been vain enough to presume Frances would accept his suit.

  “I see what hurdles others have to face; I see them flounder, and I just cannot imagine us, me, overcoming the hurdles that we would have to face,” Frances replied.

  “My age?” Stuart asked, cursing the ten years’ gap.

  “No, your age does not concern me; your experience does,” Frances said simply. She could never shake off the feeling she was not good enough for him.

  “My experience?” Stuart spluttered, for the first time in his life blushing to the root of his hair. “Frances, there have been a few other women, but none who….”

  Frances interrupted him, horrified. “I didn’t mean that!”

  “Oh,” Stuart said puzzled and more than a little relieved. He had not relished having to explain his previous exploits to an innocent young woman.

  “You are so wordly: you would soon tire of me even though you don’t think so now, but you would. I am beneath who you should be marrying: your mother has constantly spoken about how she would accept only the best woman as a wife for you; she would be against the match,” Frances explained.

  “I refuse to marry just on the approval of my mother!” Stuart replied tartly.

  “Yes, but her opinion counts; she means a lot to you, and I think too highly of you both to come between you. The wife you should have needs to be worldly-wise, of an equal standing to you and someone who isn’t afraid of your mother!”

  “Equal standing? But we are of equal standing,” Stuart responded.

  “No, we are not. You have a home, land and an income. I bring nothing. I don’t say that for pity; I am quite happy with my lot. I never expected much. I’m not the type of person who wants to be swept away by someone who would worshi
p me to my dying day. I want you to marry someone who is worthy of you; I am not that person,” Frances said seriously. She wanted to be comfortable and although she recognised that her feelings were deep and long-lasting for Stuart, she could not see him happy with her. Rather not to have him, than to have him and lose his affection.

  “I never thought you would be so foolish Frances,” Stuart replied sharper than he would normally be. His disappointment and bewilderment were causing him to lash out verbally. “I can see I was mistaken in my regard for you; I thought we were equals in every respect, but I see you are still a silly girl in this regard. Please excuse me; I can only apologise for my misplaced affection and can assure you that it will never be mentioned again.” He rose and left the room, the door being closed a little louder than was necessary.

  Frances sat perfectly still for a few moments, her eyes blinking rapidly the only sign of her distress. Eventually she sighed; she had done it, but there was no relief or happiness. It was a good thing she could resign herself to her fate in life because she had just ensured she would never deviate from the path she had chosen.

  *

  Stuart paced. His chamber had probably never had a resident who walked to and fro in such an unrelenting way. She refused him. The only woman he truly wanted, and she refused him.

  He paced. Her reasons were ludicrous; they were hardly even reasons. The concern he voiced she had actually dismissed. He feared he was too old, and she waved that away. She was not good enough for him? Who did she think he was? He had no title and lived in a manor house, but there were bigger in the village. They were only friends with the Duke and Duchess because of the friendship between his mother and the previous Duchess.

  He paced. Why would she think his mother would not approve? His mother was always mentioning Frances in her letters; he knew almost as much of her life as she did. Why would his mother mention Frances if she didn’t like her?

  Stuart paused. Perhaps his mother had been speaking to Frances about what kind of woman he should marry? It would be the type of unintentional meddling that his mother would do. Well, he would put a stop to that!