Collection of Older Works

Flashbacks of a Fool: Chapter Fifteen

The weeks end saw Annabelle in her quarters pacing about in a silent fit of nerves.  Her head all but spun on her shoulders partly due to the abundance of information she'd been required to remember in such short a time. But, Annabelle pensively debated, required was perhaps too bold of a word as Nathaniel demanded nothing of her, except her rest and continuous confessions of love to which she freely gave with accompanying affections. Oh yes and could she possibly forget the meals that were prepared and delivered to her bedside, whether she rang for them or not?  Suspiciously enough, Nathaniel also seemed to appear when such meals were presented, watching over her and encouraging one bite after the other, leading Annabelle to feel as though she were being fatted up for Christmas supper.

She smiled. No, his acts were not at all the cause of her distress, her fluttering nerves being the result of her own silent expectation in becoming the next Lady Hamilton. The mere thought alone rattled her nerves incessantly, the endless uncertainties encroaching on her otherwise happiness.

But if there was no cause for her anxieties other than those self-inflicted, why then did she ring for Nathaniel to come to her chamber mere minutes before she was to descend to the library, stand before the minister and join him in holy matrimony?

Matrimony. The sheer thought sent everything swirling about her, though she stood completely still. Had everything happened too fast? No, no-Granted, only four moons had passed since she'd woken but had not the events of that present day been forever in her dreams? Furthermore, there was no way she could refuse Nathaniel after he'd spent all four of those moons raising heaven and earth to obtain a special license so they could wed instantly, neglecting all other demands. She had to marry him. She wanted to marry him. She needed to marry him. They could wait, yes as would be proper but why? Why give fate time at trying to pull them apart once more? No, nothing else was needed. Love? There was plenty. All else could be sorted later.

Moreover, while It had all come about rather abruptly and was as much a shock to her as it surely would be for the rest of London once word aired, what other objections if not for the threat of gossip should keep them from marrying?

His mother?

Ah, well then, there it was.  The source of her discomfort unearthed.  Not in the slightest could Annabelle think of anything that would keep the devil woman away, the thought only thrusting her into violent shivers of anger and pure frustration. Would Mrs. Hawkins not want to see her only son marry, or better yet, would she not want to not see her only son marry?  

Though talk of the past and personal secrets had yet to be had, Annabelle felt compelled to tell Nathaniel the nature of his mother's behavior. Not only because she wished to enter into her marriage free of secrets, regardless of whether Nathaniel did or not, but because she wished to tell of the said secret before it consumed her with fear, or before Mrs. Hawkins appeared to make good on her promise. And she would, of that Annabelle could swear. God only knows the woman would undoubtedly wait until the minister asked if there were any who opposed the marriage before lunging for the kill. It was decided-- She would tell Nathaniel and God forgive her for turning a man against his mother.

There was a light tap at the door-

"Annabelle?" Nathaniel's deep tone resounded from the other side of the door, "I've been told you wish to see me. Do you not know it is of bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding, madam?"

Painfully, Annabelle ran to the door, instantly pressing her palms against the only barrier between her and her love. Goodness, she could feel him standing there; hear the smile that toyed at his voice which she knew rendered his eyes a sparkling topaz.  

"Nathan." Her voice cracked, "This is the happiest day of my life, yet here I am crying like a ninny." she leaned her forehead on the door.

"What is the matter?" his velvety voice darkened with concern, "Are you in pain? I'm coming in-"