by Delia Parr
When she sat down on the edge of her seat, he noted her red-streaked eyes and drew in a deep breath. Instead of worrying about whether or not Bradley was responsible for her obvious distress, he asked her directly. “You didn’t encounter Bradley while you were in the city, did you?”
She kept her gaze focused on the documents sitting on the serving table and shook her head. “No, I only went to the Refuge to say good-bye to everyone, and we both know it’s highly unlikely he would show up there,” she replied. “Have you decided what to do about his threat? Since you’ve gotten word that we’re now divorced, I wonder if you have to do anything at all.”
Satisfied that Bradley was not the reason she had been crying, he took a step away from the fire, which was making him uncomfortably warm, but remained well behind the serving table to keep his distance from her, too. “I still have until the deadline next week to decide what to do about his threat, but I can’t simply ignore it any more than I can tell Bradley outright that I won’t be paying him a single coin because you and I are now divorced. The last thing I want is to have that news spread around the city less than three months after notice of our marriage appeared in the newspapers, and he’ll do just that, just for spite,” he said firmly and squared his shoulders. “I’ll be the one to decide when and how I announce our divorce, not him.”
She met his gaze and held it. “Please keep your promise not to involve his wife.”
He nodded, albeit reluctantly, and somehow found the strength to glance away from her amazing green eyes to look down at the serving table. “My lawyer has prepared a number of documents that are yours to keep. In addition to a copy of the official court decree ending our marriage, which is dated for the seventh of January, you’ll find a copy of the settlement agreement you signed.”
She moistened her lips, but made no effort to take the documents. “There are also two envelopes lying there. What are they for?”
“The thickest contains the first settlement payment, which is yours now that the divorce has been granted. You’ll need funds to establish yourself elsewhere,” he added, hoping to erase her frown.
“How soon would you like me to leave?” Her words were so soft he barely heard her.
“I’d like you to be out of the city by next Thursday, which is Bradley’s deadline. Whatever I decide to do, I’d feel better about doing it if I knew you were far away from that man so he can’t take out his frustration on you. In the meantime, you’ll stay here, but I don’t think it would be wise to leave the estate. I’ll be staying here again until you leave, too, so if there’s anything you want or need, just tell me. I can have the items ordered and delivered here, or I can have the dressmaker or whomever brought to you here. Either way, be sure to put your purchases on my account and save your funds for later when you truly need them.”
Her head snapped up, and her eyes were wide with disbelief. “I can’t even leave here before then? Not even to shop?”
He stiffened his back. “I won’t risk having you encounter Bradley, not even by chance. If you’re at the estate with me and he has the gall to show up here again, I’ll be here to protect you.”
She huffed. “I didn’t need you to protect me when I met with him twice before. He wouldn’t dare do anything to me now. Not before he has the money he’s demanding, and by the time he finds out that he won’t be getting any money at all, I’ll be gone for good.”
“I wish I could be as confident as you are, but I’m not,” he said gently. “I don’t trust Bradley, and you shouldn’t, either.”
“After how he betrayed me, I don’t think I need to be reminded of how untrustworthy he is. He has no character at all, but he’s not stupid.”
“Perhaps not, but he is desperate. And desperate men often do stupid things,” Harrison countered and held tight rein to his temper before he lost it. “I don’t know why staying here for the next week or so should be such a problem. You tolerated much worse when we were left stranded by those robbers and then spent a rather miserable week at that inn.”
She got to her feet and sighed. “The problem is simply this: I didn’t have any other choice then. I do now, and since we’re no longer married, I would hope you would respect the fact that I’m free to make my own choices, even if that means you don’t like them.”
Totally frustrated, Harrison raked his fingers through his hair, but he refused to let this mite of a woman get her way and put herself at risk. “After next Thursday, you can make all the choices you want. Until then, I’ll decide what you can do,” he said and snatched up the envelope containing her funds. “You can have this when you leave.”
Her eyes widened with horror. “You’re keeping my funds?”
“I’m keeping you safe,” he argued and handed her the second envelope. “There are two tickets inside for you. Traveling anywhere north right now is nearly impossible, so next Thursday morning, Graham will take you to Havre de Grace in Maryland by coach. From there, you can sail south to Charleston using one of the tickets or to Richmond using the other. I’ll leave it up to you to choose where you’d like to go, and that’s the only choice you need to consider right now,” he said firmly. “Come spring, when travel is easier, you can settle wherever you like, as long as it isn’t in Philadelphia.”
She paled, but stiffened her back and tilted up her chin. “I’m not moving south. Not now. Not ever. And if you try to make me go there, you’ll . . . you’ll have to find those handcuffs you treasure so much, put them back together, and secure me to the coach to make me go.” She tossed the envelope onto the table and snatched up the documents, as if he might take those away from her, too. “These are mine,” Annabelle snapped. “It seems as though I may have started a collection, although I doubt I’ll ever want to add to it. Marrying one man I couldn’t trust and another who doesn’t trust me enough to find my own place to live is quite enough.”
“You don’t have to be so willful,” he argued. “What’s wrong with moving south for a spell?”
She did not look back but answered him on her way to the door. “That’s where Eric wants to settle. I’d rather be handcuffed to that coach again for the rest of my life than take the chance of ever seeing him again. And you needn’t worry that I’ll choose to stay in Philadelphia. I don’t want to see you, either,” she replied and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going? We aren’t done talking,” he argued, anxious to make her understand he had no reason to suspect that she would have any reason not to want to settle south, at least temporarily.
“Since you’ve proven yourself to be completely unreasonable, I’m finished talking. And if you must know, I’m going to find a lock for my door,” she snapped and disappeared into the hallway.
He stared at the doorway but did not even consider going after her. Although he had avoided seeing Irene when he arrived, he had no desire to see her now, especially with Annabelle charging around the house looking for a lock for her door. He picked up the envelope with the tickets, went straight to the library, where he knew no one would bother him, and slammed the door behind him.
After tossing both envelopes onto the desk, where they landed next to the diary she had given him, he paced from one end of the room to the other. Instead of stopping to pick up some of the funds that had fallen out of the envelope, he tried to understand why his talk with Annabelle had exploded into a disaster he had no idea how to mend.
Keeping her isolated out here until he settled things with Bradley made as much sense to him as making arrangements to send her away. He obviously had much more experience at escaping from difficulties than she did, and he was truly surprised she did not realize that she should be grateful for his help, instead of rejecting it outright as merely an effort to control her.
Recalling the horrified look on her face when he took back her settlement funds, he braced to a halt. “That was a stupid thing to do. Stupid,” he grumbled. He was half afraid to admit he had been desperate enough at that point to do most anything to m
ake her listen to reason—a realization that doubled his determination to keep her away from Bradley.
He kicked at the floor and started pacing again. Sending her south was no longer an option, and he could have told her that if she had not stormed out without giving him a chance to explain that he never would have sent her south if he had known Bradley intended to settle there someday.
Eventually he reached the only conclusion that made sense to him: Find Annabelle, apologize, and ask her to talk to him to settle their differences. Before he left, he stopped long enough to put all of the money that had fallen to the floor back into the envelope. When he entered the hallway, however, he saw Alan walking toward him carrying a wooden work tray containing his tools.
“I was hoping to see you, sir. Before I put these locks on either side of the sleeping room door, I wanted to make sure you don’t have any objection. The one for the outside only has one key.”
Harrison let out a long sigh and knew he would have to offer her a very, very good apology. “Put them on, for now. Is Miss Annabelle downstairs?”
“The last time I saw her, she was in the kitchen with Irene. Do you want me to tell her you want to see her when I get back there?”
“Don’t bother. I’ll speak to her later during supper.”
“I’ll make sure Peggy sets the table up here for two, then,” he offered and continued down the hall.
Harrison took the servants’ stairs to the first floor. Whether he liked it or not, he would have to go out to the cottage to see Annabelle and convince her to sit down and talk to him. Having Irene there might even help, since she could remind Annabelle of the advice she had given both of them about never parting with harsh words left between them.
He took the basement steps two at a time and hurried into the tunnel. He and Annabelle might not be married anymore, but they were both going to be living in this house for the next week or so. He did not need a senseless argument between them to make it any harder, and neither did she.
He practically ran the entire length of the tunnel and stopped at the bottom of the basement steps in the cottage to catch his breath before he started up the stairs. As it turned out, Annabelle was not in the kitchen, but Irene was there standing at the table slicing up some apples. “I thought Annabelle was here. Can you tell me where she went?”
She did not respond to his question. She did not even look up to acknowledge the fact that he was in the room, but he repeated his question anyway, then braced for a lecture that would probably be blistering.
When she finished slicing up the apple in her hand, Irene set down her knife and looked up at him. Instead of launching into a full-blown reprimand, she gazed at him with disappointment and disillusionment, which was much more disconcerting than any words she might have used.
“Please,” he murmured. “I need to speak to her. Can you tell me where she is?” he asked, growing concerned that Annabelle had decided to run off.
“I promised not to say anything to you about what you did to a certain someone you’ve tossed away like a piece of strudel filled with plums,” she said, completely ignoring his question.
Stung, he wondered if she would ever understand why he had divorced Annabelle. Since he had no intention of ever telling her their marriage had been nothing more than a façade, he held silent.
She narrowed her gaze. “If I could say something to you to answer your question, I’d simply say that the certain someone you’re looking for is upstairs in the garret that I’ve fixed up for my son’s family, and she’s measuring the windows for the curtains she wants to make. I hope that while you’re keeping that someone here as a prisoner, you won’t try to stop me from going into the city tomorrow. I need to buy the fabric for the curtains, and I intend to stay for a while to visit with an old friend.”
His frustration mounted with the woman’s refusal to even say Annabelle’s name. “As long as you go alone, you’re free to go. I’m not planning to leave the house tomorrow. Use my coach,” he suggested, hoping to redeem himself a bit.
She furrowed her brow for a moment, as if she was trying to decide whether or not to accept his offer. “Thank you. That’s a good idea,” she replied and started slicing another apple.
“Do you think it’s a good idea if I go up to the garret and try to speak to Annabelle?”
This time, she glared at him. “I think you should leave a certain someone completely alone for a few days, whether those locks are on the sleeping room door or not. If I was free to remind you, which I’m not, you might consider it as just the beginning of the penance you’ll have to do for the rest of your life, assuming you don’t come to your senses,” she snapped and resumed her task.
Although he did not usually follow Irene’s advice, he took it now. “You can tell that certain someone that the locks aren’t necessary. When she’s ready to talk to me again, I’ll listen,” he promised and left to return to the main house.
As his footsteps echoed in the tunnel, memories of living here with Annabelle flashed through his mind. He once thought it was difficult to live here with two troublesome women; now he simply wondered how long it would take to get used to living here again with only one.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Annabelle knew Irene could be very clever, but she was still impressed when the woman actually managed to secure Harrison’s private coach to take her into the city the next morning. She also had Annabelle hiding inside, along with the canvas sack she filled, before the coach pulled away.
When they arrived in the city, slipping out of the coach without the driver seeing Annabelle proved to be a challenge. She managed to get herself, as well as her heavy bag, into the used clothing store she had visited once before without being spotted while Irene walked to a shop a few doors down on the opposite side of the street.
Relieved to find she had the shop to herself, she had no trouble trading all of her evening gowns and matching snoods for more suitable and durable day gowns. She had to agree to take half of what the shopkeeper originally offered and less half again to convince the woman to hold the evening gowns back for a month before putting them up for sale, but she was still more than satisfied.
With her new garments stuffed into the canvas bag and her heart racing in anticipation, she looked through the shop window and kept her eye on the coach, which was parked right outside the door. Once Irene returned with a bulky package, which Graham stored inside for her, she climbed in. Annabelle waited until he walked around the other side of the coach before she clambered in while he got back up to his seat.
Panting from the exertion of getting that heavy bag into the coach, she held the door closed with one hand to keep it from flying open. It wasn’t until the coach started moving again that her heart began to beat normally. “We did it!” she whispered, but Irene put her finger to her lips to warn her that even whispering to each other could spell disaster.
When the coach stopped the next time, Irene let herself out again but stayed to talk to Graham while Annabelle slipped out and hid behind the rear of the coach. She was pleasantly surprised to see that they had arrived in a very modest but clean working-class neighborhood that appeared rather deserted at midmorning. Annabelle was anxious to see the boardinghouse where she hoped to live just long enough to find a position listed in the newspaper that would take her far away from here.
Many of the redbrick homes that lined the narrow street were joined together, but there were a few free-standing houses. She assumed that most of the men and women who lived here were already at work, but smoke pouring out of some of the chimneys proved there were some people at home, and she longed to get out of sight. She did not know which home was Widow Plum’s boardinghouse, but she prayed the woman had recovered enough to take in boarders again. She also trusted Irene to recommend a place where Annabelle would be safe and no one would recognize her as the wife of Harrison Graymoor.
“Former wife,” she whispered and glanced down at the gold and platinum band on her finger she
still wore to keep the staff from asking questions. She had had no reservations selling the wedding ring Eric had slipped onto her finger, but she had no intention of keeping this ring or the more expensive opal one—let alone selling them. Since she had no other funds to use to pay whatever it was going to cost to live in this boardinghouse, she resigned herself to taking some of the money from her divorce settlement and was frustrated that Harrison had taken it away from her.
When she finally heard Irene tell Graham to return for her in four hours, she was surprised to learn they would be here for that long. Irene walked with her to the door of the closest free-standing house.
“I have a very important errand of my own to tend to,” Irene offered. “I should be back in an hour. Two at the most.”
“Aren’t you even going to come inside to introduce me?”
Irene patted her arm. “You’ll do fine on your own. Just tell Prudence you’re my niece. She’s expecting you,” she said and started walking away.
“You don’t have a niece, do you?” Annabelle argued as loud as she dared without drawing undue attention to either one of them.
Irene chuckled. “No, but she doesn’t know that. I’ll explain everything to her once you’re out of the city.” She then hurried off.
Although Annabelle was tempted to run after her friend, she was more worried about getting out of sight. She noticed a small sign that read Widow Plum’s Boarding House next to the door. The widow’s name reminded her of how much Harrison disliked the taste of plums, and she knocked quickly to keep from stirring up any more bittersweet memories. Almost immediately she heard distant footsteps shuffling inside, and she waited for Widow Plum to answer the door instead of knocking again.