Her aunt lifted her chin and gave him a defiant look. “No, Silas, he will remain. It is you who will leave. I know without a shadow of a doubt that it was you who sent the letters.”
Her father screeched as he leapt toward them, but Aunt Eleanor pulled Annabel out of his way.
“Silas!” All eyes turned to find Forbes entering the room, his face drawn with exhaustion and his clothing travel-worn. “Back away from the women this instance!”
“And what makes you think you may speak to me in such a manner?” her father demanded.
The butler lifted a fist. “I know it was you. It was not the vicar and the rest are dead. That leaves only you.”
“And I have the directions you gave me,” Edward interjected. “I assume you wrote them yourself?” He pulled a creased parchment from his coat pocket and handed it to Aunt Eleanor, who read over it.
“Never again will you step foot on Scarlett Hall property,” her aunt said. “You will leave at once and never return.”
Annabel’s father snorted and reached for Annabel. However, it was her aunt who stepped between them. “Annabel will remain here with me. As it should have always been.”
“Joanna and I are leaving for Paris and have no plans to return.” When her aunt made no comment, he turned to Annabel. “Your name will be ruined! I will tell everyone of the secrets your aunt keeps. Now, give me the money!”
Annabel stared at the man. “What secrets?” She found her legs unable to support her. “Why do you and Mother hate me? Why would you wish me dead?”
Her aunt dropped down beside her and pulled her into her arms. “Shh,” she whispered. “Everything will be all right.”
“I have no idea of what secret you speak, but I can promise you one thing. If I learn that you have spread any falsehoods, or even truths that hurt either Lady Lambert or Annabel, so help me, I will travel to Paris myself and hunt you down. And if you return to England, the same fate will await you here.”
Her father laughed, an evil sound that made Annabel shiver with fright. “And what fate is that?”
Edward moved to stand directly in front of Annabel’s father, their noses within inches of each other. “That your last breath will be in my presence.”
A flash of fear filled her father’s eyes, only for a moment before he pushed past Edward and hurried to the door, Forbes following behind.
Annabel sobbed into her aunt’s shoulder. Never had she ever felt so betrayed, so despised. So dispirited. She had always known her parents did not want her, but to the point of having her murdered?
“Am I such a horrible daughter that my parents would wish me dead?” she asked. “What have I done that is so wrong?”
Her aunt brushed a thumb across her cheek. “It is nothing you have done, I assure you. Do you understand? Nothing.”
The words were meant to comfort, but Annabel could not push away the despondency that filled her. Her entire life crumbled around her, and she feared the weight would crush her. To have her fears realized, to learn that what she believed for so long was true, was more than she could bear, and she clung to her aunt and wept until she had no tears left to cry.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Although Annabel was thankful to have another chance to say farewell to Edward, this time she did not wish to release her hold on him. In his arms she was protected and the atrocities she had learned about her parents could not harm her.
Yet, despite her wishes, he did leave, and as she sat in the drawing room with her aunt, a glass of wine in her hand to ease her nerves.
How could anyone bring a child into the world and not want her? Annabel could not imagine not wanting any child she carried and bore. Yet, as she recalled the comforting words Edward had given her, that she had those who loved her—her aunt, her cousins—she realized that she would survive this just as she had survived all that she had endured.
Placing the wine glass on the table, she walked over to the window. Aunt Eleanor and Forbes had their heads together, speaking in low voices, and Annabel lacked the energy to make any attempt to eavesdrop. They would tell her what they felt she needed to know, and she trusted them with everything she had. Even with her life.
As she gazed out the window, she smiled. It seemed ages ago since she and her cousins stood beneath the large tree in the garden, vowing to protect one another. How she missed them all, especially Juliet, and she wished they were all together again. She needed them more than she could ever imagine.
A noise behind her made her turn. Forbes had left the room, leaving her alone with her aunt.
“Is Forbes all right?” Annabel asked. “He looked quite tired from his journey.”
Her aunt smiled as she joined Annabel at the window. “Yes. He is going for a well-deserved rest.” She pushed back a strand of Annabel’s hair. “I am sorry for what happened to you, and that it was Silas who caused it.”
Annabel sighed. “I am, as well. My own father not only had me kidnapped but he wanted me dead. My mother, too.” Her aunt slipped an arm around her waist, and Annabel blinked back tears as she rested her head on her aunt’s breast. Had she not already cried herself dry? “Oh, Auntie, I still do not understand why they would wish me dead?”
At first, her aunt did not respond, and Annabel turned to see tears rolling down the woman’s face.
“What is the secret of which Father spoke. Did I do something to embarrass them that I did not realize?” Again, her aunt remained quiet. “Auntie?”
“Do you remember when you asked me why I stand peering out this window?”
“I do,” Annabel replied. “You said it was because, like me, you have dreams that oftentimes come to mind.”
“I have had many dreams in my life,” her aunt said, a faint smile on her lips. “Some I have shared, yet there are some I have not. One in particular I dared not share before now.”
Annabel frowned. “You have had to keep secret some of your dreams? I cannot imagine why.”
Her aunt nodded. “I could not speak of them, but now I will share this one with you. I just wish it had not been under these circumstances.”
“Is…” Annabel swallowed hard. “Is this secret about me?”
“Yes. It is the silent dream that has been in my heart for eighteen years, and now I am able to finally share it with you.”
***
Scarlett Hall, 1787
Lady Eleanor Lambert waited in her bedroom for her husband to speak with her. Charles had sent her there ten minutes earlier, and she prayed that the anger in his face was not on her account. She had kept her three daughters quiet as he requested and had done what she could to do his bidding. Yet, anything could set off the man at a moment’s notice, and she racked her brain in an attempt to unravel the mystery. Otherwise, she would face him without any idea as to why she had angered him, leaving her defenseless against any accusations he might throw at her.
A sharp pain had her grabbing her stomach, now large with the child that grew within her. Moving to the edge of the bed to ease the discomfort, she used steady breaths until the pain subsided. Although she was happy to be bringing another baby into their family, Charles spent the past eight months berating her of not doing her duty and producing an heir.
It was not that Eleanor did not want a boy, for the idea of an heir pleased her. However, Charles did not understand that she had no choice in whether the child would be a boy or a girl. When she had attempted to explain this, her words were met with a sneer and Charles leaving for two days without word of where he had gone.
She had heard the rumors, but she closed her ears to them. He would not steal away to another woman’s bed, no matter how angry he became, she was certain of that fact. He simply worried that he would be the last Baron Lambert—he refused to entertain the idea that his brother could take over the title if an heir was not born—and that was a heavy burden to bear.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made her chest tighten. Charles entered the room, and although it was early afternoon, he swayed o
n his feet, his cheeks red. His glazed eyes gave her the same look of contempt that he always wore after having too much brandy.
No, not only when he was drunk. That look had been there more often when he was sober. When they first married, he had sworn off the drink, yet that only lasted a few months at best. Now, he was either drinking or playing games of chance—or worse if rumors were to be believed.
“Your things are ready,” he said, his words sounding as if his tongue was swollen. “We are leaving.”
“Leaving?” She grimaced as she pulled herself from the bed. “Where are we going?”
He ignored her question as he removed a silver flask from a drawer and placed it in his coat pocket.
“Charles?”
“We are going away for a few days. Your bag is already in the carriage.”
Eleanor glanced down at her burgeoning belly. “But I am to give birth soon. I cannot travel. It is far too…”
“I am not seeking your permission,” he roared, his face now a deep crimson. “Can you not obey a simple request from your husband?”
Eleanor nodded. “I can.”
“Then we are leaving.”
She followed Charles out of the room and down the stairs, which was not an easy task in her current state. Her husband made no offer to give her aid, and she did not make any request. Halfway down the stairs, she stopped and grimaced as pain shot into her back.
“Not yet, little one,” she whispered, praying the babe would not come before they reached their destination, wherever that was. She did not want her child to be born in a carriage!
“If you move this slow to anger me, you are succeeding quite well.”
“I am sorry,” Eleanor said, taking the next step despite the pain.
When she reached the bottom, she breathed a sigh of relief. “The girls,” she said, glancing around in search of her daughters. “I wish to say farewell to them if we are to be away for any extended of time.”
“There is no time,” he said, taking her arm and leading her to the door.
She fought back the tears as she stepped outside of Scarlett Hall. Forbes stood in place of their regular driver beside the open door to the carriage.
“Where are we going?”
Charles stopped and sighed. “Very well. I had meant it as a surprise, but as always, you have ruined that. We are going to a country home a half-day’s journey from here where you will be able to relax until the child comes. Phaw! I will never do anything kind for you again!”
Guilt washed over Eleanor. “I apologize. I will not ask again.”
He studied her for a moment and then nodded. He walked ahead of her, and she stopped to look up at her home once more. Her hand moved across her stomach and the child kicked. “Do not worry, little one. We will be back home soon.”
“Eleanor, I do not like to wait.”
“Coming,” she called and resumed the agonizing walk to the carriage.
***
What Charles termed a ‘country home’ was nothing more than a whitewashed farmhouse with peeling black trim around the windows. Set in the midst of a forest, Eleanor could not understand why her husband had chosen such a place when the time for the child to be born was so close.
What a thankless person I am, she had thought as she looked around the quiet solitude of the tiny garden when they first arrived. Charles had gone to all this trouble to find her a place to enjoy the last few days of peace before the baby was born, and she complained that she could not say farewell to her daughters? Ungrateful is what she was. Granted, Juliet was no more than a year old, but a new baby would mean several months of little sleep, and his gift was a thoughtful one. She would have to remember to thank him later.
They had been there only three days when the pains came—the true pains. The child was ready to make his or her debut into the world, and be it a castle or a cottage, there would be no waiting.
“That’s it, Miss Lambert! You’re almost there!”
Eleanor glared at the midwife, one of two sisters who were in attendance. She had already birthed three children! It was not as if this was her first! Insufferable woman!
She is simply doing her job, she thought, but then another pain tore through her, and she clenched her fists to keep from crying out.
“Now, push!”
With eyes closed and while holding her breath, Eleanor gave one final push and the child emerged. Tears rolled down her face upon hearing the babe’s first wails, and the midwives set to cleaning both mother and child.
It seemed hours before a beautiful daughter was placed in her arms.
“Oh, she is gorgeous,” Eleanor whispered as she gazed down at the tiny bundle in her arms. A girl. Charles would not be happy. However, Eleanor did not care, for she was filled with joy. “Your name will be Annabel after your great-grandmother.”
The two sisters gathered their things and soon wished Eleanor and the new babe the best before leaving the room. Lying on a multitude of pillows and with Annabel wrapped in swaddling, Eleanor let out a relieved sigh. Let Charles be angry; she would love this child as much as her other three daughters.
The door opened, and Charles entered the room. Eleanor smiled up at him, but it fell when his brother Silas and his wife Joanna entered behind him.
“Why have they come?” Eleanor asked, knowing it would anger Charles and not caring. This was a private moment, not one to be shared with others. Plus, the fact that they had traveled this far made no sense.
“Let us have a look,” Charles said, taking the babe from Eleanor.
An uneasiness crept over Eleanor when Charles handed Annabel to Joanna. “Charles?”
“Quiet, woman!” he barked, and panic rose as she watched Joanna smile down at the bundle in her arms, cooing and rocking the newborn.
“Her name is Annabel,” Eleanor said, pushing aside the uneasiness, or at least attempting to do so.
Joanna began to hum a lullaby. “Yes, I want her.”
Eleanor’s insides knotted and her heart froze. “What?”
Charles turned to his brother. “Will we say the debt is settled then?”
“Charles?” Eleanor asked. When he paid her no heed, she lifted herself from the pillows. “Give me back my daughter!”
Silas frowned. “We wanted a boy, but she will do if Joanna wants it. Yes, the debt is settled.”
Eleanor looked from one face to another. “What is going on? What debt is being settled? And…” The realization hit her as easily as if she had been struck by a stone. “She is my daughter!”
“No, Eleanor,” Charles said. “She is their daughter now.”
The scream that emitted from her throat should have been heard in London. “No! Annabel! You cannot take her! She is mine!” With what little strength remaining, she attempted to leave the bed, but Charles pushed her back down.
“Do not scream again,” he said, his voice filled with rage. “You brought this upon yourself. I know you would fail in your duty to produce an heir, which is why I made certain the babe was born here. Joanna cannot have children, as you know, and because I owe my brother a hefty sum, your failure has now paid that debt.” The smile he gave her was malevolent, and she shied away from it.
“You are a sick man,” Eleanor whispered. “What you have done can never be forgiven.”
Charles smirked as a familiar face entered the room. Reverend Creassey. She should have known.
Reaching into his coat, Charles produced a bundle of notes. “For the parsonage,” he said as he handed it to the vicar.
Reverend Creassey counted the money before stuffing it into his coat pocket. “You have no sin over you, Lord Lambert,” he said, giving a sign of the cross. “Whatever sin you have committed has been washed away.”
The two men walked over to the door and spoke with their heads together. Eleanor did not even attempt to hear what they said. She stared up at the rotting ceiling. The child was gone, leaving a hole in her heart that would never be filled.
Ye
t, as she stared out the window, Eleanor made a silent promise that one day the girl would know the truth, and they would once again be reunited as mother and daughter. She would keep the secret close to her heart, and the silent dream would remain unspoken until that day.
***
Annabel struggled to stem the tears that came. The story she had just heard was overwhelming, yet it provided a sense of relief in its own way.
“And so,” her aunt said, “as the years progressed, and you were left in my care often, part of my dream was realized. For in their dismissal of you, I had the chance to raise you as mine, as it should have been.”
“You are my mother,” Annabel said with a smile that she could not keep from forming on her lips. “All this time I had wished it, and now it is so. I believe in my heart that I have always known.”
“And it was my dream to tell you the truth,” the woman said.
“Mother?” Annabel paused. It felt right to call her so, and a new deluge of tears fell. “May I hug you now as your daughter rather than your niece?”
Her aunt—no, her mother—wrapped her arms around Annabel and pulled her in tight against her. “I hope you understand that I wished to tell you so often, but by the time Charles died, you were far too old, and I thought it best to wait until after you were married.” She chuckled. “Perhaps even then I would have hesitated. Is there ever a good time to give such news?”
“I do understand,” Annabel said. “Although my heart was broken today by what Father did…” She sighed. “This is going to be very complicated,” she added with a laugh. “What that man did, the man I believed to be my father. After what he did, to learn the truth has healed me. You are my mother.” It was still a wonderment to say such words.
For some time they talked, laughed, and cried, and later, after dinner, they sat in the drawing room. Her mother shared stories Annabel had heard before, and some she had not, and it all brought back memories of when she and Edward had shared together.
“I understand why you believe Edward, that is…Lord Wolcott, is not the right man for me, and I have always trusted your wisdom and obeyed you.”
Silent Dreams Page 21