I Am A Lady #Wattys2015

Chapter Seven

Annabelle watched him, watch her. She gave up the battle in her mind to leave him there. He had walked all that way she  assumed he knew his way back to the house perfectly well, he did find her in the trees. But that stubborn voice in the back of her head kept screaming out at her, you were raised a lady. She let go of her horse and turned around. She looked him over and let out air in a very unladylike manner, his eyes widened just enough for her to notice they had a dark rim around them. She closed hers and shook her head. The first rule of love is noticing something that you never did before and liking it. 'Fine', she said stubbornly.

'Fine?' he said puzzled.

'I'll show you my father's estate but I do hope you have it in you to take extremely long walks. 'This land is extensively large, she added when she saw the confusion on his face, that is why the horses are here', she walked past him, 'but if you insist,' her eyes dropped to his legs, 'you could stretch them for a few hours'.

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Annabelle's mother was seated in the study, her eyes were hard on her husband. She had never liked the fact that he pampered their daughter to the extent she believed she was entitled to everything. Annabelle had grown up a very privileged lady. Everything she wanted was given to her, and this marriage, she did not want and her mother was afraid she would get away with not going through with it.

'Anthony will you put that book down and listen to me,' she stood up and took the book from him, 'you spend all your time locked in this study like a man who has no family. Your daughter is running around like the queen of England throwing tantrums. I am losing my mind. Sir George called on us rather early and now he is nowhere to be found. Annabelle refuses to speak to him even when he avails himself in person. Anthony.'

He wasn't listening. He had learned early on in their marriage, when his wife started speaking it was best to let her have her time. He looked up at the sound of his name. He had not made a mistake all those years ago when he had defied his parents and all society when he took her as his wife. She was the only one he could ever love and the only one who could love him through his very many difficulties.

'Dear Annabelle is a grown,'

'A grown what Anthony,' she threw the book against the wall. He looked at the book on the floor. The one thing his wife never could control was her temper. 'You spoil that child. Every time she says something there you are agreeing with her, how else is she supposed to learn there are consequences to her actions. Anthony?'

'Dear, you realize we cannot force a man upon any woman. If it were so I would not be married to you but that awful woman my mother wanted for a daughter in law.'

'That is not the point, Anthony.'

'Yes dear it is,' he stood up to pick the book she had thrown and put it back on the shelf. 'Annabelle is a woman who was raised to do what is right. Sometimes dear, what is right means going against the world. I did it for you. Let her find her own path.'

'She will never find a husband with that temper of hers.'

'You found one, Sarah. And he is right here with you, through everything. And he will never leave you, even if you plan on destroying all his literature.' He walked to her and kissed her lightly. 'Annabelle is exactly like you. If I would have given up, I would not be a man. If Sir George is the one for her, he will not give up. If he does he is a fool. Now I need to work, running all this is not an easy task.' He escorted her to the door.

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Sir George and Lady Annabelle had been walking for hours. Their land was certainly large, it made George wonder why his mother was pushing for their union. As far as he knew they were one of the wealthiest families. It could not be to expand their already existent fortune, for he had taken care of it. They had fields upon fields of green grass, it was truly a beautiful site. On the estate were two other smaller residences that Annabelle explained belonged to the families of the caretakers. They were assigned horses to make movement from their houses to the main manor easy.

'Where does this path lead?' Sir George asked, as they reached the end of the straight path. There was another smaller path that seemed to disappear into a thicket of trees. He strained his eyes to look through the vegetation and noticed a cottage like establishment. 'Looks as though someone lives there.'

'No one lives there and that path leads nowhere. It's time we turned around. I do not want my mother to cause a fit because of my prolonged absence,' she had already started walking back in the direction they came.

George watched her swift steps. There was something about her and trees and the boy in the painting. She looked terrified when she turned to look at the cottage. He followed slowly behind her. They had walked quite a distance and he was tired. He had hoped the time he had her on his own he would be able to communicate with her and find common ground. The rest of his life seemed to be a very rough rocky path.

The house was now in sight. George had the impression he had not done enough to convince her he was not who she thought he was. She kept her steps at a quick pace but still managed to look every bit elegant and graceful. If his mother could only see him now. When he met Annabelle he was insulted at the thought of marrying someone with a coloured blood running in her veins, but now he seemed not to care what she looked like. Her temper flared at the slightest touch on her heart, he wanted to bridge the gap between her and whatever she seemed to fear so much.

'Annabelle', a voice from behind him spoke. She stopped walking and turned around slowly. Her face went pale at the sight of the young man. 

'What is the matter Annabelle?' the young man asked. Sir George turned to face the voice. A young man was standing in front of him. Every bit handsome yet so terribly familiar to him. The young man made no move to introduce himself to George, his eyes were fixed on Annabelle. He repeated the question but made no movement towards her. She made no movement toward him either.

George not knowing who the young man was and why he and Annabelle were simply just looking at each other. He started to doubt there was someone there. She was rooted to the ground. 'Annabelle', he called her name, her eyes moved from the young man to George, they were still and empty. She looked tired and unwell.

'What are you doing here?' she managed to say, keeping er eyes on her now betrothed. 

'I came to see you like I promised him I would'.

If Sir George blinked he would have missed the moment Annabelle's eyes moved from his to the man.

'I don't need you to come and see me, and we both know you made no such promise, because you are every ounce selfish and ruthless. You let him die knowing full well what it would do to me. How dare you come here claiming you care of my well being'.

'I do care for your well being', he took a step towards Annabelle, she took a step back and george took a step to stand somewhat between them. 'I honestly do care for you Anna. So did he. I never wanted him to go, I did everything...'

'Liar', she yelled 'He would not have been here that night if it wasn't for you. I had warned him how dangerous it was, you lied to him. You told him I would have wanted him to be here. I knew all along what my mother was planning and so did you. You helped her. Don't try to make yourself the hero.'

'Between us...'

'There was never an us. HE was the only one. I made a grave mistake trusting you and letting you be a part of our lives.'

'HE IS MY BROTHER!' the young man yelled.

Annabelle took a deep breath, 'was,' she whispered. Her voice faint, 'he was your brother. He is no one to any of us now. Sir George if you please.' Her eyes shifted back to the man, 'I believe you know your way out.'

'He would have wanted me to have the cottage, you know that is what he wanted.'Anger dripping form his voice.

'A cottage is all you seek. Take it. I hope it will make you happy. Sir George if you please.' She eyed him one last time before turning and walking slowly back to the house.