Regardless, she knew Flemming had been determined to get her alone again and since she believed her aunt had had a hand in the first incident--or at the very least had simply turned a blind eye--she didn’t trust her aunt to thwart his intentions.
Knowing her options were limited, she put up no demure, but she resolved to refuse any attempt by Flemming to get her off to himself.
They hit their first hurtle when they began to load up in the carriages. They’d arranged to take three carriages. When Demi tried to join her aunt and cousin Phoebe, her aunt immediately objected. “Don’t be absurd. You will ride with your fiancé. Esmeralda can ride with us.”
Demi’s eyes narrowed. “If I am to ride with Mr. Flemming, then Esmeralda can ride with us.”
Alma Moreland studied her for a moment. “You are a tiresome girl. I shall enjoy the peace when you are no longer my responsibility.”
Demi had to bite her tongue to keep from informing her aunt that she lived for the day, but as badly as she wanted to tell her aunt how she felt about it, she had resolved not to give her aunt any further justification for keeping her a prisoner in her own room. Turning away from her aunt’s carriage, she looped her arm through Esme’s and headed for Jonathan’s carriage.
The smile he gave her when she stopped beside the carriage made her long to whack him a few times about the head with her parasol. She’d brought her parasol explicitly for that purpose, should the need arise. Setting her jaw, she allowed him to help her into the carriage.
“I thought Lady Moreland had invited you to join her and Phoebe,” he said as he turned to his daughter.
Esme glanced at Demi and then her father. “But, I don’t like Lady Moreland, papa. I thought I’d ride with you and Demitria. She is to be my new stepmother, after all.”
Demi, who’d been staring at the horse’s ears in fuming silence, turned and looked at her friend in stunned surprise. Flemming obviously didn’t particularly care for Esme’s humor. He was as red as a radish. Gritting his teeth, he helped Esme into the back seat of the carriage without another word, then stalked around the carriage and climbed in.
Demi bit her lip to contain a smile as she twisted around to look at Esme. Esme winked at her, grinned and settled back with the air of one who was already enjoying herself tremendously.
When they arrived at the lake, they discovered that the servants had arrived before them and were in the process of setting up the picnic. Phoebe suggested they take a stroll around the lake and immediately attached herself to Mr. Collins. Flemming offered his arm. Ignoring it, Demi looped her arm through Esme’s and asked her if she’d read any good novels lately. Miss Elizabeth Collins joined Demi and Esme, and Flemming was left to lend his support to Lady Moreland.
Books were more dear to Esme’s heart than anything else in life, and she talked at length about those she’d read most recently, relieving Demi and Elizabeth of the need to do anything more than listen. Ordinarily, Demi would have been nearly as enthusiastic, but she couldn’t help but wonder what Esme thought about her father’s marriage plans. She had not spoken of it before today … and, until she had, Demi had not even considered that her marriage to Jonathan would make her Esme’s stepmother.
She knew Esme missed her mother fiercely and wondered if it distressed her to think of Demi becoming mistress of the home that had been her mother’s. She could scarcely approach so delicate a subject with Elizabeth Collins present, but she worried that the marriage might create a rift between them.
Growing bored with the discussion of books, Elizabeth detached herself after a little while and joined her brother and Phoebe. Flemming took the opportunity to draw even with Esme and Demi.
Demi sent him a deadly look. “We cannot walk four abreast. The path is too narrow.”
“Then walk with me.”
“Esme and I are discussing books.”
His eyes narrowed. “As fascinating a subject as that is, you and I have things to discuss, as well.”
“Oh? I was certain you and Aunt Alma had already made all the arrangements that needed to be made.”
“Traditionally, the bride and groom plan their wedding trip together,” he said with determined patience.
Demi lifted her brows. “Forced marriages are traditional?”
Esme divided a frightened look between her father and Demi. “I believe I will head back now.”
“A very good idea,” Demi said, turning with her and pushing past her aunt, who’d been forced to drop back due to the narrowness of the path they’d been following. To her relief, Jonathan made no attempt to stop her. Instead, he offered his arm to Alma Moreland once more and the four of them returned to the picnic site.
Except for the deadly looks her aunt sent her way and Jonathan’s coldly assessing looks throughout the meal, the remainder of the picnic went off fairly well. Demi looked forward to the return trip to the Abbey with more than a little dread, however, certain that she would once again have to fend off Flemming’s attempts to get her alone. To her surprise and relief, he didn’t.
The bad moment came when they arrived home once more. Everyone had loaded up in the same carriages they’d arrived in, but Flemming managed to see to it that theirs was the last in the procession. Since the carriages ahead of them were kicking up a good deal of dust, he dropped back. The end result was that everyone had already entered the Abbey by the time they arrived.
Demi knew Flemming had been roiling ever since the walk along the lake, although he’d made every attempt to appear completely oblivious to her determined snubs. He pulled the carriage to a halt on the drive before the Abbey, set the hand brake, looped the reins around it, then got down and walked around to help Demi alight. When Esme would have followed them, he fixed her with a look. “You will wait in the carriage. We will not be staying.”
Grasping Demi’s arm, he walked her beyond earshot of Esme and pulled her to a halt. “I have tolerated a good deal from you, Demitria, but know this, I will expect complete compliance from you once we are wed.”
Demi gave him a level look, despite the fact that she was quaking in her shoes. “You will have nothing less … and nothing more,” she said tightly.
“You do not want to engage in a battle of wills with me. I can assure you, you’ll lose.”
Demi stared at him a long moment. “I already lost or there would be no wedding, but don’t congratulate yourself over it. Aunt Alma won the first round, not you,” she said, snatching her arm from his grip and stalking into the manor.
She had to stop to compose herself once she was safely inside. Fully expecting to find that her aunt was laying in wait for her to give her a thorough dressing down, she was vastly relieved to discover that she’d retired to her room to rest. Very likely it was only a short reprieve, however, and she decided to retire to her own room to rest before she had to rejoin the battle with her aunt.
In her room, she discarded her gown and lay down in her shift, but she discovered that rest was not an option. Jonathan Flemming had frightened her far more than she was willing to let on, far more than he had when he’d attempted to inflict his ardor on her. She reminded herself that she had known all along that he was just as determined to control her every move and thought as her Aunt Alma was, and would be far more dangerous, if for no other reason than that he would be her husband. She realized, though, that she had not fully accepted it before. Somehow, she supposed in the back of her mind, she’d been certain that she was exaggerating the situation because of her distaste for him, that he couldn’t possibly be as bad as she’d imagined. The conversation at the door had left her in no doubt that he was. She’d gotten the distinct impression that he was looking forward to breaking her to his will.
She supposed she would have been far better off if she had behaved meekly from the start and at least given the impression that she would be easy to control. She didn’t think that that would’ve made him not want her, because she was fairly certain that she’d also been correct about him wanting he
r because her family connections would raise his status in the community.
The fact that she’d shown herself to be headstrong and willful had appealed to him on another level, however. Before, it was possible that he had had no particular interest in her beyond the connection, but she had challenged him. He would make her life a living nightmare until he was satisfied that he had asserted his dominance and completely broken her spirit.
She wished desperately that she could go to Garrett for comfort, but there was no chance at all of that before everyone had retired for the night, probably very little even then. She thought it very unlikely that Sarah would help her again as she had the night before, not when she suspected what had happened between her and Garrett.
If she had not been so fearful of being left alone with Jonathan Flemming and yet another confrontation with her aunt, the vigil in watching her might have been relaxed enough that she could slip out of her room. Unfortunately, she had, and she would be lucky if it didn’t transpire that she was right back where she’d started--forbidden to leave her room at all, placed on bread and water, with Sarah barred altogether from her room.
That thought reminded her of the yardman that had been sent to nail her window shut. He hadn’t. He’d risked his job by passing food to her … and he’d left the ladder under her window. Slipping from the bed, she moved to the window and pulled the curtains back. The ladder was still beneath her window.
She was surprised her aunt hadn’t noticed and had it removed, but then her aunt rarely went outside.
She began pacing the room, trying to decide if there was any way she might make use of the ladder. After developing one scenario after another, however, she was obliged to dismiss it. The ladder was too heavy, she was certain, for her to move it, no matter how determined she might be. She could use it to escape her room, but she would have to enter the manor once more in order to get to Garrett.
Unless she could convince Sarah to help her again, she would not be able to be with him. He thought she was a maid. He would not take her into his bed if he knew.
It occurred to her after a little bit that she might be able to borrow a maid’s clothing from the laundry. It would most certainly be noticed if the clothing was gone for very long, but Garrett was to be leaving soon. If she could figure out a way to get the clothing to begin with, she could figure out how to get it back.
Even such a disguise wouldn’t help her escape her room, however, if her aunt decided to post servants in the upper hall as she had before. One might succumb to weariness and sleep as the one the night before had. If there were two or more, most likely they would be too afraid of being reported and having to face her aunt’s wrath to give in to the desire to sleep.
She decided she could only tackle one obstacle at the time. If she saw the opportunity to steal a disguise from the laundry, she would seize it and worry about the other things later.
She was surprised, but hopeful, when Sarah came in to help her dress for dinner. At least her aunt hadn’t tightened down on her as of yet.
Chapter Eleven
Demi stopped abruptly in stunned surprise when she reached the parlor. Lord Wyndham, looking pale from his ordeal, and no doubt the effort of negotiating the stairs, was seated in a chair facing the door, a cane propped against the chair beside his injured leg. His eyes gleamed with warmth when he spied her, a faint smile hovering about his lips.
She smiled tentatively in return. “My lord! It’s wonderful to see you up and moving about.”
“Phoebe and I were just expressing our delight in seeing him so robust again!” Alma Moreland said at once, although it was obvious that she and her daughter had only just arrived in the parlor themselves.
Phoebe sent her mother a startled glance, blushed faintly at the sardonic glance Garrett sent in their direction and added, “We were certainly thinking that very thing. That is … mother and I were expressing how delighted we would be to see you looking stout and hardy again on the way downstairs.”
“Then I am glad that I spent the past several days hobbling about in my room so that I could impress you. I can see I wouldn’t have made nearly as favorable an impression if I’d allowed the footmen to carry me down. My apologies for not rising, but I had the devil of a time getting downstairs.”
Lady Moreland waved that away. “We will certainly excuse so understandable a lapse. We know very well that you’re not as recovered as you would have us think. I suppose this means you are, in truth, to be leaving us soon?” Alma Moreland added but apparently decided the comment sounded far too hopeful. “We shall miss your excellent company! I would that we could prevail upon you to stay a little longer.”
“Alas, I’ve a great deal of business that needs attending,” he responded coolly. “And, in any case, I have trespassed upon your hospitality far too long as it is.”
Lady Moreland smiled. “As to that, there was certainly no trespass. We have been delighted to have you. You’re certain we can’t persuade you? I know of at least one here at Moreland Abbey who will be very sad indeed to see you go,” she said archly, leaning over to pat Phoebe’s hand.
His gaze flickered from Lady Moreland to Phoebe and finally settled on Demi. Swallowing with an effort, she moved to a chair and sat, staring at her hands while she focused on subduing the knot of misery in her chest. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that he would be going after all. Despite that, however, she couldn’t deny that it was an unpleasant jolt to see the actuality of preparations. She supposed it wouldn’t have been so had not some dark corner of her mind held on to hope that the unhappy fate that seemed to be rushing upon her would somehow be diverted, perhaps in the eleventh hour, and she would discover that happiness was to be hers after all.
It might have been easier to bear if she could simply have quelled the tiny spark of hope that refused to be extinguished, but she supposed it sprang from the happiness she’d felt in seeing and being with him. It was like a hunger. When fed, it sprang to life more readily. Whereas starvation dampened it to the point where one rarely even expected to have it appeased.
She had her memories, though. She could nurture them and keep them alive and they would bring her a taste of happiness whenever she brought them out. If she had not been so fearful of pain before, she would have had the memories of her parents to cherish. Instead, she had thrown up a wall that had sealed both the good and the bad away from her forever.
Geoffrey was the last to arrive. He took one look at Lord Wyndham and looked as if he wanted to whirl and flee upstairs again. Unfortunately, unlike Lord Wyndham, he had not arrived under his own steam. He had been carried down by the footmen, and she supposed the indignity of ordering them about to carry him upstairs once more outweighed his reluctance to endure a confrontation with Lord Wyndham.
In point of fact, tension was rife in the room, but Lord Wyndham soon set them at ease by conversing with Geoffrey as his host, rather than the man who’d shot and nearly killed him. Dinner was almost convivial. Demi strongly suspected that there was as much hysterical relief in Geoffrey, Phoebe, and Lady Moreland’s banter as there was good cheer, but the liveliness lifted even her flagging spirits.
It also silenced, or at least quieted, the voices of reason in her head. She’d managed to slip into the laundry and borrow one of the upstairs maid’s work dresses and cap, but she’d been assailed by guilt as much as fear as she’d scurried back upstairs to hide it. What she was doing, and intended to do, was wrong, if possible even more wrong than before. She had not intended that anything happen between them when she had slipped into Garrett’s room, and even though she’d given in without a whimper of protest, she might have been able to salve her conscience with a lack of intent.
Borrowing the maid’s dress to go back, knowing what would happen, in fact hoping that it would, was as premeditated as one could get.
Two wrongs did not equal one right and never would. In point of fact, as her legal guardian, her aunt had every right to settle her as she saw fit. Mos
t guardians would have given at least some consideration to their ward’s wishes, but certainly not all, and even those who did considered their age and experience were more likely to produce a compatible match than the unstable and inexperienced young could manage, given the right to choose.
She was as bound by her guardian’s decision as if she’d chosen it herself, and she was willfully dishonoring it.
She’d told herself she didn’t care and it didn’t matter, but she knew very well that she wouldn’t have had to if it didn’t. She realized though, as the evening progressed, that she was willing to accept the consequences later of her actions now.
She silenced the clamoring of guilt and shame. She couldn’t altogether silence the voice of fear. Her conversation with Jonathan Flemming returned again and again, and each time his words returned to her mind they frightened her more powerfully.
Garrett had known that she hadn’t been with a man. Flemming would know that she had. What he might do when he learned of it didn’t bear thinking of. He would almost certainly figure out that it had been Garrett she’d lain with.
Would he publicly denounce her? Call Garrett out? Beat her?
It was a terrifying thought, but unfortunately, not something that she could change now. Whether she went to Garrett one more time before he left or not, that couldn’t be changed.
As fearful as she was of the possible repercussions, she couldn’t be sorry for it, and when she realized that she did not wish it undone, she pushed the fear to the back of her mind determined not to allow it to torture her. She would face the consequences when she had to. She wouldn’t allow her dread in the meantime to govern her actions or prevent her from making the most of the time she had left to her.
When she retired for the evening, she went about preparing for bed as usual. Sarah studied her suspiciously, but she was far too wrapped up in trying to behave ‘normal’ to really notice. In any case, she was certain that not asking Sarah to help her would be enough to allay Sarah’s suspicions about her plans.
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