by Laura Martin
‘Many years ago—many, many years ago—I was in love. The young woman in question died. It took me a while to recover from the sorrow I felt at her passing.’ It was the truth, although nowhere near all of it. He’d been young and foolish, believing that love could conquer the social and familial expectations heaped upon them. It hadn’t taken the world long to disabuse him of that notion.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’
He hadn’t thought of Emily for a long time, not properly. He had loved her and lost her, but it seemed a distant and hazy memory, pushed away by his sadness and need to forget that particularly painful part of his life.
‘It is of no consequence. My great-uncle thinks, wrongly, that I have not decided to marry until now because I still mourn for Emily. He is incorrect and I have told him so on many occasions, but he will not be swayed in his opinion.’
‘Why haven’t you married, Mr Ashburton?’ Lady Annabelle had a soft voice and calming manner about her that made him want to sit down and spill all his darkest secrets and desires. She was an expert at making herself seem unthreatening and unassuming, of blending into the background so you didn’t notice her sharp eyes taking everything in. For a moment he considered telling her about the trauma of losing his parents at such a young age, then having his brother ripped from him when they were split up to live with different guardians on different continents. It made him mistrust relationships, it made him realise how fragile the world people built up around them really was.
‘I haven’t felt the need to,’ he said abruptly. Lady Annabelle didn’t need to know about his cold and emotionless upbringing or his deeply ingrained character flaws.
He felt a flicker of remorse at the rebuke, but at least on the outside Lady Annabelle didn’t even flinch. He supposed after living with her sharp-tongued mother for so long meant she was used to harsh words. Still, it didn’t mean he should speak to her that way.
‘Please excuse me, Lady Annabelle, there are some final details to see to for tomorrow. Is there anything you need?’
‘No, thank you.’ Her words were accompanied by a soft smile, but he had the impression he had disappointed her. Brushing off the feeling, he bowed and quickly exited the room, hoping he hadn’t said anything to make her change her mind.
Chapter Five
Dear Beth,
Is it normal to feel sick on your wedding day? Or to want to stay in bed and hope that no one finds you?
‘How on earth can you sleep in on such an important day?’ Lady Hummingford burst into the room, flinging back the curtains and sending Annabelle under the covers of her bed to hide from the bright sunlight. ‘Get up, the day is wasting and we have no time at all to get you prepared.’
Annabelle peeked out from under the crisp white sheets and wondered how her mother would respond to a plea for ten more minutes in bed. She decided it would be unfavourably and, to save herself the lecture, she slowly sat up in bed, blinking away the sleep from her eyes.
It had been a long night, tossing and turning as every possible scenario for how the rest of her life could be ran through her mind. She’d fallen into an uneasy slumber as the light had started to trickle through the curtains and felt as though she had only just fallen into a deeper sleep when her mother had burst into the room.
‘The maids are bringing up hot water for you to bathe in, then they will dress you and do your hair. You have two hours until we need to leave for the church.’
With a thought for her grumbling stomach Annabelle considered enquiring about breakfast, but already her mother had sailed out of the room. She felt a pang of disappointment that Lady Hummingford wasn’t staying to get her ready for her wedding day herself, but Annabelle shouldn’t have been surprised. Her mother had never been very maternal and didn’t believe in showing affection.
In something of a daze Annabelle watched as the maids filled the bath with steaming water and set up the screen to preserve her modesty. After disrobing she slipped into the warm water, feeling some of the tension ease from her muscles. She had never had a lady’s maid, there hadn’t been enough money over the last few years to afford more than a couple of servants to help run the sprawling Birling View estate. As such baths had always been a bit of a chore. She and Beth had to carry the bath between them to the bedroom and then do multiple trips up and down the stairs to the kitchen to collect enough water to fill the bath. In later years they’d just kept it in a small room off the kitchen to save on the labour involved, but that was dark and gloomy and not very relaxing. It felt like a luxury to have someone fill it for her and she had to hide her surprise as one of the maids slid behind the screen and started lathering soap into her hair.
‘It’s an exciting day for you, my lady.’ The young maid went by the name of Lottie and looked to be about the same age as Annabelle.
‘Yes,’ Annabelle murmured.
‘A day every woman dreams of, her wedding day. I caught a peek of your dress, too. It looks absolutely beautiful.’
It was beautiful. Made of cream-coloured silk with an intricate gold embroidery covering both the bodice and skirts, it was the most beautiful piece of clothing Annabelle had ever laid eyes on. Mr Ashburton had sent a dressmaker to the cottage a few days after she had accepted his proposal and it had been thrilling not to have to worry about the cost of the dress and the service of the dressmaker for the first time in her adult life. Most of her dresses were second-or third-hand, passed down by her mother or sister, altered to fit her small frame. It was wonderful to have something of her own.
‘It’s so thrilling that the master is finally getting married. The house has been so quiet for so long and to think one day soon it’ll be filled with the sound of children.’
‘Mmm...’ Annabelle murmured, closing her eyes and sinking down in the water so only her face remained unsubmerged. She didn’t want to think about any of that. One day she was sure she would be able to accept her fate without feeling a flicker of pain or longing for the children she would never have, but she wasn’t quite there yet.
‘Stop dilly dallying and get out of that bath.’ For once her mother’s voice was a welcome interruption and Annabelle quickly rinsed the soap from her hair and body before standing and wrapping the large towel Lottie handed to her around her body.
Once in a dressing gown, she seated herself at the dressing table, avoiding looking in the mirror as Lottie began to brush out her hair. The golden locks were one of her favourite features, although Annabelle wasn’t sure if that was because she liked her hair or if it was more that it could be used as a convenient shield to hide her scars behind.
‘There are some things I need to talk to you about, Annabelle,’ Lady Hummingford said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking pointedly at her daughter in the mirror. ‘Important things.’
Annabelle felt the heat begin to rise in her cheeks, wondering if her mother really was going to try to tell her what happened between a man and a woman on their wedding night. Or at least what was meant to happen. She wished she could stop her, to explain that out of the thousands of books she had read during her years of solitude at least a few dozen had provided her with enough insight into marital relations that she really did not need this talk. Some had been very explicit indeed.
‘Mother...’
‘Don’t interrupt me, Annabelle, you will listen to what I have to say.’
Falling silent, Annabelle wondered if she should have told her mother the whole truth about her marriage to Mr Ashburton. Lady Hummingford knew he harboured no tender feelings for Annabelle, that she was a convenient option for a bride and nothing more, but she wasn’t aware of quite how separate Mr Ashburton was proposing their lives should be after the wedding. Annabelle doubted they would ever lay side by side in bed together, let alone anything more intimate.
‘As a wife there are certain duties you will be expected to perform. It is importan
t you please your husband, do as he asks. Do as he tells you.’
Annabelle knew her mother was only repeating what she had been told on her wedding day, but the advice seemed a little disempowering. She waited for more to come, for the wedding night advice mothers always seemed to impart in the novels she’d read, but Lady Hummingford just shifted uncomfortably and repeated, ‘Do as your husband asks. Even if it is a chore for you.’
‘I’m sure Mr Ashburton wouldn’t ask me to do something that I wasn’t comfortable with,’ she said, the picture of innocence. Normally she wouldn’t tease her mother, but she felt as though Lady Hummingford should have some better advice for her younger daughter on her wedding day than Do as your husband asks.
‘Ah, well. There are certain duties a wife is expected to perform...’
‘I’m aware I will take responsibility for running the house and overseeing the servants,’ Annabelle said, giving her mother a beatific smile.
‘Yes, there’s that, of course, but I’m talking about more personal duties.’
‘Like making sure the cook prepares my husband’s favourite meal and that his preferred drink is always available.’
‘No, I wasn’t thinking about that.’
Annabelle cocked her head to one side and suppressed the giggle that was building inside her. ‘What were you thinking about?’
Lady Hummingford opened her mouth a couple of times and then closed it again, standing and brushing an imaginary fleck of dust from her skirt.
‘It doesn’t matter. Mr Ashburton will instruct you when it is time.’
Annabelle watched as her mother sailed out of the room, then caught Lottie’s eye in the mirror and they both burst out laughing.
‘I shouldn’t have been so cruel,’ Annabelle murmured.
‘She was being rather vague, my lady,’ Lottie whispered, checking over her shoulder to ensure Lady Hummingford hadn’t re-entered the room.
‘I just wanted her to give me some useful advice, something that showed she had thought about what this is going to be like for me.’
‘Mr Ashburton is a good man, my lady,’ Lottie reassured her. ‘He will be a good husband, I’m sure.’
Annabelle regarded the maid in the mirror. Many people seemed to be of the opinion that Mr Ashburton was a good man. Quite what they meant by this she didn’t know. It was one of the things Beth had repeated when she had been considering marrying Leonard Ashburton, before she admitted she had fallen for his brother instead. Leonard Ashburton was a good man. He might be abrupt and cool in his manner, but underneath he was considered to be essentially good.
In silence Annabelle watched as Lottie expertly pinned up her hair and added the clips with little pearls on the end to the top and back. Then it was time to step into the dress and have the young maid pull on the ribbons that made up the corset area. The material was luxurious under her hands and the dress shimmered in the morning light.
‘You look lovely, my lady,’ Lottie said as she stood back to admire Annabelle in the dress. The young maid’s smile froze just for an instant as her gaze travelled up to Annabelle’s face and fixed on the scars. Her figure might be alluring and her hair like spun gold, but the scars would always be the thing that everyone fixed on.
‘Could I have a moment, Lottie?’ Annabelle asked softly, knowing it wasn’t the young maid’s fault her eye had caught the scars.
Lottie curtsied and hurried from the room as Annabelle sank back on to the chair in front of the mirror. She indulged herself in a moment of self-pity. The dress was perfect, her hair was perfect, the day outside was perfect. As always it was just her face. If it weren’t for the scars she would probably be marrying someone who wanted her for more than just her low expectations of life.
* * *
The walk downstairs felt never-ending and by the time Annabelle reached the door she wondered if she was about to be sick. She felt strangely nauseous, as if her body were floating and swaying above the ground and all she wanted to do was pick up her heavy skirts and run past the assembled servants, out the front door and not stop until she was back in her bedroom at Birling View.
Instead she checked her veil was in place over her face and glided down the stairs as she had been taught as a young woman. She would do her duty today, play her part and tomorrow she would wake up with a husband and a house of her own.
At the front door her mother stood tapping her fingers on the wood of the door frame, even though Annabelle was punctual to the minute of her planned departure time for the church. Lady Hummingford looked her up and down and eventually nodded her approval, but didn’t say anything to Annabelle.
A footman helped her up into the carriage and Annabelle arranged her skirts around her so her mother could fit on to the opposite seat, and to the waving of the staff they set off for the church.
‘Mr Ashburton is keen to leave for his own house after the wedding. I understand you will return here to change and then set off for Five Oaks immediately,’ her mother said as they settled back into their seats. ‘He has arranged for your belongings to be packed and sent there. I will return to Sussex.’ Lady Hummingford curled her lip in disgust at the thought of the little cottage. Annabelle bit her lip to stop herself from offering to speak to Mr Ashburton about her mother’s accommodation. The last thing she wanted was Lady Hummingford coming to reside with them. One of her main motivators for marriage was to finally have a chance of a life of her own.
‘I will come to visit soon.’
‘I don’t know why you would want to visit that dreary little cottage. Much better if I come to visit you.’
‘I will write and let you know when Mr Ashburton thinks it will be a good time.’
‘Make sure you do.’
The carriage began to slow and all too soon they were at the entrance to the church. Mr Ashburton had hinted it would be a quiet affair, just a few essential guests and the vicar conducting the service. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep it small for the convenience of organising a smaller affair, or because he wanted to keep the wedding quiet. He didn’t seem to be the sort of man who would be embarrassed by his choice of wife, but she reminded herself that she didn’t really know him, not past a few superficial conversations.
As the carriage door opened she had to take a steadying breath before stepping down. In just a few minutes she would become Lady Annabelle Ashburton.
Chapter Six
Dear Josh,
Today I said my marriage vows. You looked so happy when you married Lady Elizabeth, I have to confess I envy your happiness.
Leo stared up at the statue in front of him. It was of Mary and the Baby Jesus, carved lovingly out of a huge piece of marble and likely had been standing in the same spot for a couple of hundred years. It was solid, reliable; it had been here since before he was born and it would be here after he had died. The thought made him relax a little, made him remember he was just a small part of a very big world.
He hadn’t expected to feel nervous. This part was just a formality, just a few words said to one another. In his mind he had already taken on Lady Annabelle as a wife, she was already his responsibility. This wedding shouldn’t make a difference to that.
‘Are you ready?’ William Wilbersmythe murmured from his position by Leo’s side. He wished it was his brother Josh standing next to him and felt the pang of loss heavily for a moment. It had been wonderful having his brother back in his life, albeit only for a few short months. He wished Josh hadn’t had to rush back to India, but he understood the call of responsibility and Josh had a business to take the reins of.
‘Is she here?’
‘I think I heard the carriage.’ Wilbersmythe was as close to a friend as Leo had. They’d grown up on bordering estates, attended school together and been in the same year at Cambridge. There was nothing offensive about the earnest man standing next to him, but Leo had never felt at ease let
ting anyone close. The only person he had ever let through his defences was his brother.
Sure enough, the doors to the church opened and Leo turned to catch sight of his fiancée silhouetted in the door for a second before she moved into the church. She was elegant, gliding down the aisle, and looked stunning in a dress of cream and gold. A white lace veil was clipped into her hair and covered her face, but as she came to a stop beside him he saw her hesitate and then take it by the edge and lift it up so it cascaded down her back instead.
Stiffly they stood side by side as the vicar intoned the words of the wedding ceremony. For years Leo had not expected to marry, had never thought he would be in this position. It was only in recent months Lord Abbingdon had added the stipulation about Leo being married to his will and even more recently that the need to marry had become pressing with the old Viscount’s health fading fast. Perhaps once he had dreamed of a future with a wife and a family, but that dream had been because of Emily. When she’d died he had never thought of marriage again.
The ceremony was over in a flash. The vows said, the delicate golden band placed on to Lady Annabelle’s finger and the congratulations of the vicar. He had a wife. It didn’t feel quite real, but he was a married man.
‘Congratulations,’ Wilbersmythe said, clapping him on the back. Leo knew he should be moving, should be guiding his wife from the church to the waiting carriage, but he felt as though he were in a daze.
Beside him Lady Annabelle leaned in and took his arm and at the contact he came back to himself. She was looking up at him as if she expected him to say something to her.
‘Well, that’s done now,’ he said quietly, knowing immediately that he had said the wrong thing by the crestfallen look on Lady Annabelle’s face. She hid it well, recovering her composure in a matter of seconds, but the hurt had been real and visible. He had to remind himself that this might not be a love match, but she was still his wife and would expect a little warmth and emotion from him.