Diamonds Fall

by Rebecca Gibson

  As Annabel sat there, the maids worked. They rinsed her hair and brushed her teeth until they felt as soft beneath her tongue as polished pearls. Following this her rough hands and feet were scrubbed and filed to within an inch of their lives, her nails clipped and polished until they once more sat even and shining. They were restoring her to her former self, pristine and perfect on the outside yet they couldn't fix the wounds that had mauled her soul.

  She could hear the maids whispering to each other somewhere in her subconscious but she didn't pay attention. For the first time in her life she didn't care what people were saying about her.

  After the initial scrubbing Annabel was told to step out whilst the now black water was emptied and fresh water replaced it. This was done three times before eventually she was deemed clean enough and dried off. Whilst the three maids continued to work, rubbing oils and lotions into her skin and dabbing perfume behind her ears, some other maids spent the time in Annabel's large closet, altering the outfit they wanted her to wear so it fit her newly shrunken frame. They settled on a high necked dress overlain with lace ruffles and small pearl buttons.

  A thin white chemise was pulled over her head before being layered up with undergarments and petticoats. Finally, she was laced into a corset and her arms pulled into a pink silk robe that trailed the floor as she shuffled in her stocking clad feet to the dressing table. Annabel looked into the mirror, watching as her team brushed out her tangled hair, cutting off the ends with a practiced precision so it fell once more in delicate waves down her back, gleaming celestially in the crystal light above their heads. Her face was still porcelain in both appearance and touch. Fingers slid into her hair, working it up into an elaborate bun at the nape of her neck. They slid a new hair comb into the bun, adorned with a further cluster of pearls.

  When this was done, the maids fixing Annabel's appearance crept into the closet. She could hear a hushed up argument before one of them returned. The dress was clearly not ready and the maids were scared.

  "P-perhaps you would care for a rest Miss?" one of them stuttered.

  "Yes, I think I should like that." Annabel tried to smile but the emotion never made it onto her face. Looking away she walked back into her room, taking a well stuffed pillow off of her bed and sitting herself on her deep window seat, she looked out once more at the forest in the distance.

  She fingered the lace at the edge of her robe, watching the light shine off the silk as it tumbled down over the sill and onto the floor. She placed one foot on the carpet, marvelling at how soft it was even through her stocking. Once more, she wondered how she could have failed to notice how fantastically made every part of this estate was. Her family owned nearly every one of the houses in and around the village, as well as several estates around the country.

  Looking back out over the forest Annabel's thoughts quickly flew to Daniel, suffering unknown terror and pain as she sat in the height of luxury.

  A maid placed a cup of tea with lemon and sugar on a small table by her feet and she sipped at it absentmindedly, the hot liquid burning her throat as it slid into her empty stomach. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was until that point. Pouring another from the gold tea pot she cradled it in her hands as tears slid silently down her cheeks.

  She must have fallen asleep for she didn't notice the maid coming up behind her until she was tapped gently on the shoulder. She shot to her feet, startled, fixing her eyes on the young girl in a neatly pressed black gown and white apron.

  "Miss? Your father has arrived home and is anxious to see you. He said he will wait in the family parlour."

  "Yes, yes of course. Thank you."

  She set down her now empty tea cup and made her way back into the dressing room, throwing her robe onto the chaise. Behind a hand painted screen more maids helped her into her now smaller clothes. They didn't fit as well as they would have before she left but they were close enough. She glanced down at her beaded shoes and then up into the full length mirror, gasping as the reflection of her former self gazed out at her. Pinching her cheeks she took a deep breath, suddenly nervous and walked out of the room, towards the smallest of the parlours downstairs.

  The expensive material around her legs rustled as she walked, her heels clicking on the floor. She tried to take a deep breath but her corset was pulled too tight, making anything more than half a lung impossible. The palms of her hands had turned cold, although sweat was making them damp. The bodice of her dress jumped as her heart hammered against her ribs.

  Inside the parlour, her father was stood looking into the fire, his newly lined forehead creased up in stress. One hand rested on his hip, the other on the mantel piece. Her mother was sat in a large wing backed chair still wearing her black mourning gown. Hearing the soft clicking of Annabel's step Lord Hoddington turned around. He strode over to his daughter with a fierce desperation in his eyes and seized her in an out of character hug. The embrace was so tight she couldn't breathe but she clung to the back of his tailored suit, equally as desperate for her father's touch. He kissed her cheek, his wispy beard brushing across her face. It was such a familiar feeling that Annabel's eyes grew hot, her throat tightening.

  "Let her breathe Grayson," her mother ordered in a firm voice but she was grinning insanely. Her fingers fidgeted as she clasped and unclasped them in her lap. Annabel took her father's hand, unwilling to let go of him and sat between her parents. They sat like that until a uniformed butler came in, announcing lunch and asking them to adjourn to the family dining room. This was the least elaborate and smallest of the dining rooms, one where they could all sit closer to one another and perhaps discuss Annabel's disappearance.

  They walked to dinner in silence, Grayson Hoddington's hand in Annabel's, her second arm hooked around her mother's elbow. On the table was a spread of all Annabel's favourite foods. There were six courses in total. Caviar was followed by salmon tartlets, a steaming bowl of brown Windsor soup came before ornately modelled ice cream sculptures in the shape of birds, in various bright colours, to cleanse their palettes. Following this they ate stuffed pheasant, finishing with a moist sponge cake, the icing made from fresh strawberries. Annabel stuffed herself until she thought she might burst, using all of her will power to eat somewhat daintily, with the manners she was brought up with and not to just grab fistfuls of food. However, her hunger overtook her a few times and she thought she noticed her mother glancing at her uncertainly from across the table.

  After they ate they moved into the conservatory. Here, surrounded by sweet smelling roses, freshly cut from the garden and arranged expertly in large antique vases, Annabel tried as best as she could to explain everything that had happened to her. Having thought about her tale before she told it, she left out the worst of the abuse that befell her, to make for a more watered down version of events.

  She told them she had been knocked out, that she had woken up in a small village deep within the woods and stayed in a stable with Billy. She explained about Patsy, bringing her home comforts and food whilst trying her best to tell them about the kindness of Daniel, how he had gotten himself beaten up and she had nursed him back to health, hoping this would make them proud of their daughter. Looking up she noticed her father standing across the room looking stony faced.

  "So this Daniel is a thug?"

  "No! No! He was protecting his mother! He is a kind man Father. He helped me, he brought us food and - and friendship."

  "Just friendship?"

  She blushed and her father nodded knowingly, his facial expression growing angrier by the second.

  "Did you forget that we have secured for you the most eligible young man in the country, if not the world?"

  "Father that was not the point of me telling you this. I've thanked you for my engagement so many times but things have changed. I have changed. How do I even know that he still wants to marry me? I've never even met him."

  She hadn't planned on this particular turn in the conversation happening so soon. She had only hoped t
o free Daniel and figure out the rest afterwards.

  "He arrived here not two hours after you left. Punctual on top of everything else. You will marry him Annabel. Think of someone other than yourself for once."

  Her mouth fell open in shock.

  "How dare you! I've done nothing but think of you the entire time I was away. This isn't about me, it's Daniel-"

  "Who is an abusive thief from what you've told me-"

  "NO! Father please, we can talk about all this later, just release him. He doesn't deserve any of this! He has suffered so much his entire life, don't make him suffer more."

  "He will stay exactly where he is. I've spoken to the police already and he is going on trial next week. They've already been paid my child, it's too late."

  She wrapped her arms around her waist trying to hold herself together as she fell back into her chair, her breath coming fast once more.

  "Father please," she whispered. "I'll do whatever you want. Just please don't condemn him because of me."

  "I won't risk the improvement of our family, improvements I have worked for my entire life, by letting you indulge yourself in childish lust. By letting you lower yourself to a relationship with an impoverished, violent boy. You will ruin all of our reputations. He will not leave that prison. I will make him as comfortable as I can but I can't risk this engagement."

  Annabel straightened up in a rage.

  "I won't marry Theodore until you release Daniel! I won't do it!"

  Her voice was high pitched and shrill. At the sound of it her father shot to his feet, one hand on each arm of her chair, pushing her back against the cushions. His face was less than an inch from his daughters.

  "You don't marry him young lady and you can never again call yourself my daughter."

  Annabel shrank back further as her mother let out a sob, her hands going to her flushed throat.

  "Grayson, you can't."

  "I can do whatever the hell I like in my own house! Don't undermine my position!"

  Annabel's eyes glistened with tears. She had been let down by the person who was supposed to protect her above all others, simply indulging in his own selfish ideas of higher power and riches he already had a sickening amount of.

  "Please Father, help him. I can't survive if he's not happy."

  He took her chin in his fat fingers, forcing her to look at him. Her tears fell onto his thumb.

  "I won't do it. There's things even I can't influence. The police have been after his family for more years than you've been alive. There was nothing I could do with all the money in the world, even if I'd wanted to. You haven't condemned him dear, his name condemned him."

  She could barely speak for crying.

  "B-but surely there must be - there must be something. He's innocent, why won't you see that? H-his brother and father they - they are the ones you want, I know where they are."

  Frantically she leapt to her feet and ran to the door, pushing her father out of the way in her haste.

  "I'll take - I'll take you there now. Please, Father."

  She halted, tears racing down her cheeks with one hand on the door handle. Her father closed his eyes in exasperation.

  "I'm sorry Annabel."

  And with that he got up, straightening his suit. Turning to the footman by the fire he said, "have the carriage brought around to the front," before brushing past his daughter into the entrance hall.

  "No!" Annabel sobbed, chasing after him. "FATHER! LISTEN TO ME!"

  Her mother grabbed Annabel's arm, clinging on with surprising strength. Annabel tried desperately to get away from her grasp but she hadn't enough energy left in her body and tripped over her own heel, falling to the floor in a heap of ridiculous lace.

  "Mother please. I need him," she sobbed quietly.

  Lady Elizabeth brought her face close to Annabel's ear.

  "You see what this boy has done to you already? He has driven you mad! Do you think I married for love Annabel? You think these childish notions got me where I am today? I married for prospects, for the best life in which to raise a family, best life for you. Love is a brilliant fantasy but it's not real. What you're feeling now will fade and when it does you're left with only a lifetime of regret. Theodore is a good match for you. He is a kind man and he has fortune Annabel. He can raise you to heights you've only ever dreamed of. You have to let this boy go. I will see to it as well that he stays in that prison."

  She stood sharply and strode out of the room, her posture perfectly erect, leaving her newly returned daughter alone.

  Annabel sat for hours huddled as much as her corset would allow whilst the conservatory grew colder, leaving only when her stomach turned violently and she rushed to the nearest vase, throwing up noisily. She felt a sense of exultation as she did so, knowing it was one of her father's favourite ornaments.

  She made her way to her room, being sick in two separate bathrooms on the way. Her body was already rejecting the large quantities of rich food she had just consumed. Three maids stood from the chaise at Annabel's entrance, rushing over to her as she bent over the chamber pot and threw up once more. Wiping her mouth one maid swiped the pot out of the room before the smell could infiltrate the perfumed air. Annabel padded into her bedroom, ripping off her tailored clothes as she went and dropping them behind her like bread crumbs. She let the maids unlace her corset and slip a thin nightgown over her head. The first maid came back in with a large jug of water and a crystal glass, a small bottle of medicine beside it. It was sickly sweet, the liquid so thick it stuck to the walls of her throat.

  Collapsing against the plumped up pillows, her heart ached thinking of the situation Daniel, Billy, Patsy and Genevieve could be in at that very minute, whilst she sat here. She felt useless and betrayed. Rolling onto her side she succumbed to tears once more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sleep was hard to come by that first night. Despite her exhaustion, nightmares of her friends, her love and her ghastly experiences of the past few weeks haunted her dreams until she woke, sweating and nauseous.

  Looking up in the darkness, her brow shining with sweat, she reached for the glass of water. Tasting the foul, acrid taste of vomit on her tongue she tried to wash it away with the cool liquid. As she set it back down her fingers brushed the bottle of medicine. Tightening her grip around it she eased herself into a seated position, running her eyes over the small label, her hands trembling. The maids wouldn't disturb her much before midday so long as she didn't ring the bell. She could drink just enough to knock herself out until then. Perhaps with enough sleep, she could reason with her father more effectively. She thought again of Daniel in a cold, damp cell, the picture becoming more gruesome with every moment she sat there. Next she thought of her father, telling her she must marry the man she didn't love and the mapped out future stretching in front of her. There was no way out. Her exhausted mind clouded over, she felt utterly trapped and miserable. The pain in her gut only intensified her guilt.

  Daniel was in this position because of her. Patsy, Billy and Genevieve were facing unknown horror, because of her. Still shaking, she uncorked the bottle. Raising it to her lips she took a single deep breath, tilting it into her mouth. The sickly sweet medicine coated her tongue as the image of Daniel's face shot into her mind so vividly she cried out in shock. She spluttered as the liquid hit the back of her throat, gagging and coughing until the sheets were covered in bile and medicine in the instinctual fight for breath. In frustration she let out a scream, throwing the bottle at the fireplace where it smashed, chipping the marble. The remaining liquid dripped down slowly into the hearth where it sizzled on the still hot embers, releasing a bitter smell of burning into the room. A maid, who must have been sitting right outside the door, came running in, registering the small shards of glass scattered across the carpet and the liquid dripping from Annabel's mouth.

  "Miss!" She ran over, wiping her mistress's mouth with a damp cloth as Annabel continued to cry out in anguish, clawing at the soiled sheets
. The young girl rang the bell fixed to the wall, summoning more maids who arrived still in their night clothes.

  "Call a doctor," the first maid shouted.

  "No, please...no!" Annabel tried to protest but it was futile.

  The sheets were quickly stripped from around Annabel's trembling body and changed for clean, freshly ironed ones of almost identical colour and pattern. Every trace of the broken bottle from the floor was cleared away in seconds. Once she was settled again the few gulps of medicine she had managed to swallow, teamed with the past few week's mainly sleepless nights, caused her eyelids to turn leaden, but still she couldn't sleep.

  The doctor arrived just an hour later, his suit crumpled as if it had been hastily thrown on. Annabel only half registered the cold hands on her skin and the needle entering a vein in the crook of her arm.

  "This will put her to sleep for about eight hours," he croaked, close to her ear. He sounded like an elderly man. "She has endured a very trying ordeal, so she will need a few weeks bed rest to properly heal. She is clearly quite distressed."

  Annabel's mind grew foggy as the medicine worked its way into her blood stream, making her muscles heavy and her limbs uncontrollable. Finally, everything went black.