“I am still afraid of him and I still wish that he would go away. But I suppose he will not truly go away until I find out who he is or what he represents.”
“And you know that I am here to help you with that. I will do whatever I can to assist. And your brother is so keen to help you too.”
“Is he coming this afternoon?” Lucy said, her pretty round face already breaking into a smile.
“I am afraid he is not, Lucy. I believe that he has guests for afternoon tea.” She said, trying to keep her voice light and unconcerned.
Mrs Arklow had given her the news earlier on in the day that Lord Newfield and his daughter were expected. It had dulled her mood, but she had tried not to dwell on it.
“Perhaps he will come after.” Lucy said and reached out to take the book from Anabelle’s hands. “I think I will give you a little peace, Anabelle, and read to myself for a while.”
“Are you sure? I will happily read to you.”
“It will be a good test for me. I will learn if I can keep my demons at bay by reading to myself. If it works, it shall be a good weapon in my armory for the evenings.”
“It is a good idea, I cannot deny.” Anabelle rose, leaving Lucy alone by the fire.
She drifted across the room to perch on the window seat and gaze out over the fine view at the back of the hall. The beautiful and rich colors of mid-Autumn were soothing, and she felt herself to be in a most peaceful sort of a trance as she stared both at the trees and through the trees at the same time.
Her attention was drawn by the sound of carriage wheels and clattering hooves and she peered down to the part of the main drive which led to the stable block.
At first, she thought it must be the Duke’s carriage, for any visitor would ordinarily draw up at the front of the hall and entirely out of Anabelle’s view from the window.
But the carriage was not nearly as fine as the Duke’s and did not bear the impressive livery and so she wondered who it was.
Sitting up straighter, Anabelle could now see that there was some problem with the carriage and that it sat a little lopsided. The driver jumped quickly down and began an urgent conversation with the stable master.
The two men made an immediate survey of one of the carriage wheels and Anabelle could see herself that it did not sit right.
She then looked as the carriage door opened and an angry-looking Lord Newfield climbed down and appeared to be demanding an explanation.
No doubt the driver had thought it best to get the carriage straight to the stables for repairs rather than risking a collapse at the very front of the hall. But it was equally clear that Lord Newfield did not appreciate the explanation and Anabelle clicked her tongue in distaste.
“What is it, Anabelle?” Lucy called across. “Have you found something of interest?”
“I believe Lord Newfield’s carriage has hit a pot hole and damaged one of the wheels.” Anabelle gave a commentary. “Oh dear, and he is not at all happy about this. I can see his red face growing redder from here.” Anabelle laughed wickedly.
“Is he an impatient man?” Lucy said airily.
“I have never spoken to him, but his demeanor now would certainly suggest he is so.” Anabelle went on. “Have you never seen him?”
“No. I have met his daughter but once.” Lucy said. “I did not like her very much. She talked all the time and did not leave room for anybody else. I found her a little vain. She was more concerned with her appearance than anything.”
“As she is now.” Anabelle chuckled, enjoying having a new ally on the matter. “Oh dear.” She went on as she watched Constance Newfield hovering in the open doorway of the carriage as she waited for someone, anyone, to remember her existence and help her down.
But the driver was too intent on the damage and her father was too intent on berating the driver and so, in the end, Miss Newfield looked this way and that before climbing down from the carriage herself.
And what a graceless woman she was when left to her own devices! She came down so clumsily that Anabelle thought for a moment that she might fall.
“I cannot miss all the fun.” Lucy said and darted across the room.
The two young women were, in the end, kneeling upon the window seat to give themselves the best view of the action taking place below.
“Miss Newfield does look vexed.” Lucy said in a voice full of mischief. “Look how red her cheeks are.”
“She is very angry indeed.” Anabelle said and allowed herself yet more amusement. “And now here comes her father. He stamped his way into your brother’s stables as if he were the master.
“Oh yes, he had a somewhat imperious bearing.” Lucy said but her amusement trailed away.
Anabelle felt Lucy stiffen beside her and turned to see her as rigid as granite and with a face which was suddenly whiter than bed-linen.
“Lucy?” Anabelle said gently and followed Lucy’s mesmerized gaze.
She was looking down at Lord Newfield, who was now standing still and shaking his head from side to side.
“Lord save me.” Lucy said in a whisper which made the hair on the back of Anabelle’s neck stand up.
“Lucy? What is it?” Anabelle said as she stared down at the scene below again.
“He has come for me.” Lucy whispered, and Anabelle could feel her shaking violently beside her.
“He? You mean the frightening man?”
“It is not even sunny. The sky is grey, look, and yet he has come.” Her voice was high-pitched and tormented.
“Who are you looking at?” Anabelle said, feeling sure she already knew. “Is it the man in the brown coat?” She said, describing the driver’s apparel.
“The big man.” Lucy whispered as if afraid he would hear her. “The man with the angry face.”
“And the black coat?” Anabelle said, and Lucy simply nodded, unable to take her eyes off the man who would seem to be her very deepest fear made manifest.
And that man was, without a shadow of a doubt, Lord Newfield.
“His face has changed again but still I know him. I knew him on that day, even after so long, I knew him.” Lucy was staring down transfixed as her small hands clutched at the windowsill, the knuckles white.
“Lucy, where do you know him from?”
“From here.” Lucy said and began to tap her forehead. “He is here. He has been in here all the time just waiting for me. But I did not say anything, I did not tell.” Lucy said and began to drum harder on her forehead making the pale skin red and angry.
“No, Lucy. You must not.” Anabelle said and gently prized Lucy’s small hands away and held them tightly. “It is best to come away from the window now.”
“No, I cannot. I must know where he is.” Lucy said trembling so violently with her face a picture of fear and misery.
But even as she spoke, Lord Newfield turned from his damaged carriage and began to walk towards the side of the hall, presumably making his way to the front. His daughter, her head held high and her bearing as haughty as ever, marched along at her father’s side.
As they went out of view, Anabelle realised that Constance Newfield did not matter anymore. Anabelle’s heartbreak did not matter. The only thing that existed in the world in that moment was a terrified young woman who needed her help.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no.” Lucy said, scampering to stand on the window seat and crane her neck so that she might still be able to see Lord Newfield.
“He is coming for me.” She said and leaned against the window in a way which terrified Anabelle.
“Lucy, no, you must come down. I beg you.” But when Lucy did not move, Anabelle rose and wrapped her arms around her waist, gently pulling her down from the window.
“He is coming into the house. He is going to drown me.” Lucy said and finally collapsed to the floor.
“Drown you?” Anabelle said, a feeling of fear and disgust rising in her throat.
Why did she think that Lord Newfield was going to drown her? Anabelle cou
ld think of only one explanation.
“He is coming because I did not keep quiet.”
“Keep quiet about what, Lucy?” Anabelle said on her knees in front of her with her arms wrapped tightly about Lucy’s tiny shoulders.
“Oh, I do not know. I do not know. I cannot.” Lucy began to babble.
“All right, all right. You are safe, Lucy. I have you in my arms, you see, and I will never let go.” Anabelle said, as she began to gently rock Lucy from side to side.
She needed help, and she needed it fast. She needed the Duke and so did Lucy. But he was now, even in that very moment, greeting his guests in the drawing room and settling down to take afternoon tea. He would not be finished for an hour or two, she was certain. And she could not leave Lucy, not even to go in search of help.
She could not begin to imagine what the poor woman would suffer if she were left alone for a minute. All she could do in the end was simply stay where she was. She did not know who would be next to look in upon them, she just hoped that they would not be long.
If only they had not already had their tea. If only Mrs Arklow had not already left taking the tray with her, ready to oversee the afternoon tea for the Duke’s guests.
Lucy had finally retreated into her silent world once more and the only sound that Anabelle could hear was her gentle weeping. But it was persistent weeping, the sort of weeping which exhausted a person for it did not let up.
And thus, she remained for so long that she lost track of time. Her knees ached, and her feet were numb beneath her as she kept her position, not daring for a moment to move Lucy. Even when Lucy fell against her numb and exhausted, still Anabelle did not move. All she could do was pray that the shock and the protracted weeping did not make Lucy ill. And not just physically ill, but worse.
Anabelle could not bear to think about Lucy disappearing into that world of confused imagination and torment once again. And if she did, might it not be even worse this time? Now that she had seen the frightening man in the flesh and knew him to be real, would she not simply hide deeper and deeper in the farthest recesses of her own mind?
With a heart full of pity and sadness, Anabelle finally gave in to a little silent weeping of her own.
Miriam was the first to arrive. Day had turned into dusk and Anabelle and Lucy were still on the floor.
“Your dinner tray, oh!” Miriam’s eyes flew wide. “My goodness, what has happened?” The maid said in a stricken voice as she set the tray down and hurried to Lucy and Anabelle.
“Lady Lucy has become dreadfully unwell, Miriam.” Anabelle began breathlessly, fully aware that her face must surely be tearstained and her hair dreadfully disarranged. “She is exhausted and barely conscious. You must help me get her up into the bed.”
“Of course, Miss.” Miriam said, and between them they awkwardly lifted Lucy and carted her unceremoniously across the room where they dropped her onto her bed.
They immediately rearranged her, setting her gown to rights and laying her head on the pillows.
“I will just cover her with a blanket for now, Miss. I think we should let her rest before trying to change her into a nightgown.” Miriam made her way to the blanket box.
“Miriam, is the Duke’s company still here?”
“Lord Newfield and Miss Newfield? No, they have been gone for almost an hour.” She said and Anabelle wondered just how long she had been kneeling on the floor with Lucy.
Anabelle ached from head to foot and felt cold and stiff.
“Do you know where the Duke is now, Miriam?”
“Well, he was in the drawing room with his company, but I expect he has made his way to his study now. I do not know for certain, but that is generally what he does. I think he would rather be in his study for some reason.”
“Will you wait here for a moment, Miriam?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Lucy should not wake now, but if she does you must tell her that she is safe. I will go and fetch His Grace.” Anabelle said, deciding that it would be simpler and more appropriate for her to seek out the Duke herself.
Without wasting another moment, Anabelle darted from the room. She hurried along the corridor, trying to smooth down her thick hair as she went. She prayed she would not cross paths with any of the staff for they would undoubtedly be curious as to her state.
She ran down the stairs quickly and nimbly, despite her stiffness, her feet barely making a sound as she went. She continued to run across the black and white chequerboard flooring of the entrance hall, past the dead-eyed busts of Dukes gone by, and on towards the study.
When she reached the door, she was so breathless she wondered if she would get a word out, but she knocked hurriedly upon it anyway.
When she heard him call out, she almost fainted with relief. She had found him, he would help her.
“Your Grace.” She said breathlessly, and he immediately rose from his desk and hurried to her.
“Miss Brock, what is it?” He said and gripped her upper arms firmly to keep her steady. “Are you unwell?”
“No, no.” She said, realizing just what a sight she must be. “It is Lucy. You must come.” She said and was already trying to turn to make her way back.
They hurried through the corridors and up the stairs, although the Duke did not mercifully break into a run. Anabelle was shattered and would not have been able to keep up with him.
She was not able to tell him a single thing until they returned to Lucy’s chamber and she was able to get her breath back.
“Thank you, Miriam.” Anabelle said, indicating that she could leave. “I will come down to you and Mrs Arklow in a little while to let you know how Lucy is.” She said, dismissing her in the gentlest way possible.
Miriam smiled sadly and nodded, taking her leave without saying another word.
The Duke was already at his sister’s bedside, peering down into her now-sleeping face.
“Should I wake her? Is she dreaming terrible dreams?” He stared over at Anabelle and he looked so lost in that moment that she could have cried for him.
“I have calmed her, I think. But I could not manage another minute without you, Your Grace.” Anabelle said truthfully. “Lucy has suffered the most dreadful shock, you see, and I hardly know how to begin to explain it to you. Oh, but I must.” She said and could feel nerves creep over her. “But I would beg that this time you do not shout at me, for I have no other course of action that I can take.” She spoke firmly as if to warn him against losing his temper as thoroughly as he had done the last time that she had broached so difficult a subject.
“I will never treat you so badly again, I swear it.” He said in a whisper, leaving Lucy’s bedside to cross the room. Once again, he laid his hands on her upper arms. “One day I hope you will forgive me for what I did. But for now, you must tell me everything.”
“Very well.” She said and felt weak with exhaustion and shattered nerves.
“Let us sit down whilst Lucy is sleeping.” The Duke said and gently guided her into one of the armchairs.
“This afternoon Lucy was reading to herself and I looked out of the window for a while.” Anabelle began in a hurry. “And then Lord Newfield and Miss Newfield arrived, taken to the stable block by their driver with some damage to their carriage, apparently.”
“Yes, one of the wheels was tilted but it is repaired now.”
“I must admit to being amused by the scene; Lord Newfield looked so angry and a little imperious as he marched about bellowing at his driver.” Anabelle said a little guiltily.
“I can only imagine.” The Duke gave her a brief smile.
“Lucy had been so bright, so carefree all day. She wanted to know what I was laughing at and hurried over to join me. All was well, Your Grace, until she set eyes on Lord Newfield.” Anabelle knew that she must go on but needed a moment to arrange her thoughts.
How was she going to tell him the rest?
“And?” He prodded a little urgently, casting a look over to L
ucy in case she had awoken.
“Lucy became so distressed, oh, I have never seen her so tormented. She shook so that I could feel it through the window seat, Your Grace. And her color drained immediately and has not returned since. She began to rant and rave telling me that he had come for her, even though the sun was not shining. He had come for her because she had not kept quiet.”
“Who?” The Duke said, but she could see reality dawning in his hazel eyes.
“It is Lord Newfield, Your Grace. He is the frightening man. He is the one who has rested in Lucy’s mind these last months and not set her free.”
“Newfield?” The Duke said a little incredulously as he stared off into space. “I cannot think that she has ever met him before. I am sure that they have never been introduced.”
“Was he at the garden party in the Spring? The Earl of Sotheby’s garden party?” Anabelle said, starting to feel a little more like her old self.
She had been shaken by the events of the afternoon and even more so because she had been forced to deal with it all alone. But now that he was with her, she could think again.
“Yes, yes he was at Lord Sotheby’s garden party. But he did not join us. I barely knew Lord Newfield at the time although his daughter, Constance, had seen fit to work her way into mine and Lucy’s conversation. It was the one and only time that my sister met Miss Newfield, and it was only brief. She did not meet the Baron.”
“But perhaps she saw him, Your Grace? Where you believed that the sight of a water barrel had caused some reaction in Lucy, might it not have been the sight of Lord Newfield, even across a crowded garden?”
“But if she had never seen him before, how could he have created such a reaction? How could she have found anything to recognise?”
“Because she must have seen him before, Your Grace.” Anabelle said, closing her eyes for a moment while she thought. “Oh goodness, she has said it again and again.” She shook her head as if suddenly annoyed with herself. “His face has changed but still she knows him.”
“His face has changed?” The Duke repeated quietly. “Over the years.” He said, as if reading Anabelle’s mind. “He has aged and changed but she recognizes him.”
The Duke's Heartbreaking Secret: Historical Regency Romance Page 18