Six – Loss of the Self

The pale face of the woman on the bed slightly twisted as if in pain and a small, pitiful sigh escaped from the once full lips, now bloodless and white. She was still unconscious.

Mrs. Penelope Clay looked anxiously at her companion, standing at the foot of the bed.

“William, what must we do if she does not regain consciousness soon? She could die and then …”

William Elliot, Anne’s own cousin, cut her short with an exasperated cry.

“Be still, you silly woman! Of course she will not die! She has suffered a slight blow on the head, that is all, and she will open her eyes at any moment now. Make yourself scarce, she must not see you here. I will have better chances to succeed when I am alone with her.”

Penelope Clay left the room without another word, knowing full well she had not the tiniest influence on this cruel and heartless man. If anything, that was what she had come to understand, after having been his mistress for several months. William Elliot did not let anybody or anything come between him and his wishes!

Elliot stared down at the slender form of his cousin who was tied onto the bed by hands and feet. Her eyes were not yet blindfolded but he would do so at the slightest sign of her regaining consciousness. It was of the uttermost importance that Anne did not see her surroundings nor the persons present around her. That way, she would be totally disorientated and frightened and she would be completely at his mercy.

Elliot had a simple but very clear plan; he would become Anne’s husband, no matter what it would take! He ardently coveted having in his possession, not only the baronetcy and Kellynch, which he already had, but also Anne’s small heritage from her mother’s family. If she became his wife, he could strip her older sister Elizabeth from her own part of this money and invest it to his liking. His own financial status was not that prosperous due to some setbacks he suffered lately.

Yet, Elliot had another reason to have Anne completely under his thumb. He wanted her to suffer. He wished to see her so subdued and miserable that her life would become a living hell. She had to pay for the insult she had dealt him in refusing his offer of marriage.

Furthermore, he wanted Sir Walter to die before his time. That old sod was hanging on far too long.

With Anne as his wife, he could have access to her father frequently, invite him to Kellynch and do away with him in a so called hunting accident. That was also part of Elliot’s plan.

He was indulging in a little bit of daydreaming when a faint cry from Anne tore him out of it. She was coming around, at last! He hurried to the bed and slipped the blindfold over Anne’s eyes.

~~~~ 

Something did not feel right … she could not see …

Why was that? Not yet worried, she let the question go round and round in her head. Her head, which seemed not to be connected to her body, ached something fierce! God! It was a good thing that she had no use of her eyes with a severe headache like that.

“You are awake, at last!”

Her head jerked in the direction of the deep, male voice beside her bed! Her bed? She was lying in her bed and there was a man standing next to it? This could not be! This was highly inappropriate!

Oh! The pain … it was preventing her from thinking straight!

Breathing heavily against the pain, she tried to remember whom the voice belonged to for she had not recognised it. A stranger in her bedroom? Panic began to grip her! She must tell him to go away, at once! It did not signify for her, … what was her name again … , to have a stranger …

Oh, dear God! Who was she? What was her name? She did not remember her name!

A cry rose from her throat like coming from an animal in pain. Help! Somebody help her!

“My dear cousin, do not upset yourself like that! You are in good hands, I have taken you in when nobody else would. I have cared for you and my own physician is seeing to your health. Be still, dear Anne. Rest now, you need it.”

“Anne … is that my name?”, she uttered quietly, a ring of tears in her voice.

There was a silence from the man on the right side of her bed.

“Ah, I see. The doctor warned me such a thing could occur after the heavy blow on the head you suffered. Do not worry and rest. Everything will return to normality soon.”

Only then it dawned on her that she could not move because she was tied onto the bed and that there was a blindfold over her eyes. What was happening?

“Why am I bound and blindfolded?”

The voice answered readily and smooth.

“This was ordered by the doctor because you were inclined to harm yourself when we first brought you in. You tossed and turned so heavily that you have bruises all over your poor body. The blindfold is necessary for the curing of your severe concussion. You had quite a blow, Anne. Now, rest!”

The last words were pronounced so fiercely that she startled under the veiled threat they carried.

Suddenly she was overwhelmed  by a deep, dark sentiment of despair and from under the blindfold her tears began flowing.

Elliot grinned when he saw this. Good! He certainly needed to change his original plan a bit but she was already thoroughly upset and that was very good!

Five – Where is Anne?

Wentworth finished his second cup of tea at his sister’s breakfast table when the footman announced a Mrs. Harriet Smith who was asking to speak with him. The name meant nothing to him and the petite, plain-faced woman was a stranger he had never seen before in his circle of acquaintances. He stood and bowed. She awkwardly curtsied and only then Wentworth noticed her paleness as if she were on the verge of collapse. He hurried by her side and gently took her by the arm. After helping her onto a chair, he resumed his own seat and asked:

“Are you alright, Madam? Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Smith replied, “but the nature of my visit requires urgency. Do you know where Miss Anne Elliot is at present?”

Her voice had sounded firmly enough even though her countenance spoke of extreme weariness.

Wentworth, at the mentioning of Anne’s name, felt a shred of fear coming alive in his stomach.

“To my knowledge she is with her father in Camden Place. I left her there around ten last night.”

“Sir,” the lady now urged, “last night, Anne left Camden Place without telling anyone where she was going to. I was supposed to call on her, this morning. We had agreed on taking a walk in Henrietta Park but, when I asked for Anne at her home, the footman told me sharply that Anne Elliot was no longer  living there! And, when I asked to speak with Sir Walter about his daughter, the footman replied that Sir Walter had no daughter called Anne!”

A cold knot of tensed fear squeezed at Wentworth’s heart.

“What? But … I do not understand! You must be mistaken, Mrs. Smith!”

Mrs. Smith shook her head in an impatient gesture, clearly forgetting her manners in her anxiety over her friend.

“No, Captain,” she said, “something is very, very wrong. Don’t ask me how I know this but Anne would never disappear without telling me; I have been her best friend since more than fifteen years! I must beg you to accompany me to Lady Russell’s. She will most likely know where Anne is, probably  she has even taken Anne in at her own lodgings. I am too common to be received by the likes of Lady Russell but you, you she will not turn away.”

Wentworth gave her a cynic smile and replied:

“Oh, I doubt that very much, Mrs. Smith. Lady Russell holds me in the uttermost contempt and I assure you, it is reciprocal! Nevertheless, she will receive me, have no fear. I intend to go to the bottom of this!”

 ~~~~

“Milady, there is a gentleman wishing to speak to you,” the footman said and presented a silver salver with a card on it to his mistress. Lady Russell wondered who it could be. She had no appointments for this morning. The card read: “Frederick Wentworth, Captain, HMS Augusta Sophia, Bristol”, which gave her a little start! Anne’s betrothed! What was he doing here?

Remembering how harshly she spoke of him in the past, Lady Russell had not the courage to face him.

“Tell the gentleman I am not receiving this morning, Michael, if you please?”

She had barely had time to sigh her relief when the morning room door burst open and an irate Wentworth stalked in.

“Madam, you will hear me, this instant!” His voice was rigid with control but his blue eyes were blazing!

“Sir … I must insist on …”

Wentworth leaned over her while his arms rested on the breakfast table.

“Anne is missing from her home at Camden Place, Madam. You might know where she is and if you do, I demand you will inform me this instant!”

Lady Russell’s eyes darted around the room but her footman was nowhere to be seen! Only a slender young woman had accompanied her assailant and she did nothing to restrain him.

“Missing … but … but … I do not comprehend! She was at home last night when I visited her!”

“You are lying, Madam! Do not deny it, I am used to reading the countenances of my men on the ship and I know when a person is lying! So I will repeat my question: where is Anne?”

Lady Russell began wringing her hands as she burst into tears.

“I do not know where she is! Sir Walter turned her out last night and I only heard about it this morning. Please, you must believe that I know nothing of this. Sir Walter is a proud and rigid man who takes rebellion hard.”

Wentworth’s face had turned grey as he pondered the consequences of what he had heard! Then he turned to Mrs; Smith, took her by the arm and the two left without another word to the terrified Lady Russell.

 ~~~~

No more time was wasted by the pair and they set off for Camden Place at once. The same course of events was followed with the exception that this time Wentworth did not even bother to show his card to the footman. He stormed in as soon as the door was opened and roughly brushed the man’s restraining hand aside as he stalked into the morning room. Sir Walter and his eldest daughter were partaking their breakfast and they startled violently when Wentworth planted himself right in front of Sir Walter.

“You will tell me this instant where my future wife is, Sir Walter, or I might be prone in forgetting myself and giving you the trash you deserve for throwing her out of her home like a beggar!”

Choking in the bite of buttered scone he just happened to have taken, Sir Walter’s face was red as a beetroot in an instant. Elizabeth was lying limp in her chair; she had wisely fainted.

To give Sir Walter credit, he recovered quite quickly, swallowed the lump of pastry and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Thomas! John! To me! To my rescue!”

Two burly footmen stormed into the room, roughly pushing aside Mrs. Smith, almost knocking her over. The first one lunged a fist like a hammer towards Wentworth who dodged, lunged his fist himself and sent the man sprawling across the carpet. He then planted his knee in the stomach of the other footman and landed his joined hands on the back of the man’s head as he bent over, which made him land flat on his face onto the floor.

Sir Walter had managed to get to his feet by now and Wentworth resumed his position in front of him. Without further ado, he took hold of the baronet’s cravat, ruining it in the process, and hissed at him:

“I should strangle you for this, you miserable cad! If she has come to the slightest harm because of what you did, I swear I will bring you to justice! I will accuse you before the Courts of maltreatment of your own daughter, do you hear me? Now, speak! Where is Anne?”

Sir Walter, now fully recovered, was quietly assessing his chances on knocking over this brute. After a brief reflection, he decided against it. Although they were of the same height, the younger man’s hard muscles were clearly noticeable against his own, meagre body. The baronet assumed it therefore wiser to try and placate him. He could have his revenge later and, by Jove, he would!

“I have no notion at all of where she is. She left here last night and told no-one where she would go to.”

“And did you give her a chance to do so? Or did you throw her out without the slightest possibility of defending herself?”

There was no suitable answer to that and so, Sir Walter did not give one. He pressed his thin lips together and stared defiantly at his opponent. In disgust Wentworth released him and hurried out, Mrs. Smith hard on his heels.

Out on the street again, the two stared at each other while the horrible realisation struck them: Anne was missing!

CLICK HERE for PART TEN

Author: Kat (blueeyedbookworm)

Part 20

I woke the next morning with dried eyes and heavy limbs. I had managed to snag a bit of sleep the night before, but if the reckoning of my somewhat addled brain was correct, it had been no more than an hour or two. Neither of my parents took much note of my listlessness at breakfast, as they were both fatigued from the events of last evening as well, though their weariness had more to do with their age than the things that had occurred.

While I was striving to keep my head from drooping into my plate of eggs, Mr. Hill came with the morning post. As mother read the name on the first missive, she perked up immediately.

“Oh, here’s a letter from Kitty!” She tore it open excitedly. Kitty was hardly more wont to write than Lydia, so a letter from her would undoubtedly bring important news.

After scanning the letter silently for a moment, Mama gave a thrilled little cry, saying, “Mr. Bennet! Kitty’s Leroux has proposed to her, just as she said he would! Oh, my dear Kitty, about to be married!” She held the letter to her heaving chest. “Can you fathom it, Mr. Bennet?”

Papa expressed his happiness in rather more subdued tones, his eyes twinkling just slightly under his heavy brows. It seemed that, yes, with three daughters already married, he could indeed fathom it very well. We exchanged a look that bespoke our merriment at the fact that Mama became as excited and astonished about this daughter’s engagement as she had about the first’s.

Mama began to read Kitty’s words aloud to us. Kitty described the romantic proposal on the balcony of Mr. Leroux’s family home, where they had both been attending a ball. She stated that the wedding would take place in a church near that same estate, at the urging of Mr. Leroux’s parents. It seemed that many of his relations lived nearby and wished to attend the wedding. As our relations were rather more scattered, Kitty had deemed that church to be the most logical choice, and expressed her desire to please her dear Leroux in this matter. She did beg our parents’ pardon for making all these decisions without first informing them, but also said that she felt sure they would understand. And they seemed to do so – what with the shocking circumstances they had had to endure in regard to Lydia’s marriage, they could hardly disapprove of this much more proper engagement. They did lament, however, that they had not had the opportunity to meet Mr. Leroux yet, though they toyed with the idea of going to stay at Pemberley a week or two earlier than the wedding date, which was set for three months hence, so that they might become acquainted with him. Or rather, Mama toyed with the idea, and Papa murmured his assent.

After Mama had talked for some time about the thrill of Kitty’s impending marriage, she realized that she had completely forgotten to look at the rest of the letters we had received that morning. She began to divvy them out – there were a few for Papa and a couple of invitations for her; the usual things. She took me by surprise, however, when she glanced at the last letter and then handed it to me. “One for you, Mary, dear.”

I had received no letters for some time, and wondered who it could be from. I was pleasantly surprised to see the neat, pretty hand of my sister Jane on the front of the letter. I didn’t receive news from her very often, but her letters were always a bright spot in my day when they came. She must know how lonely it was here at home sometimes, and in her tenderheartedness, made sure to remind me now and again that she had not forgotten me.

As Papa and Mama occupied themselves with their own mail, I opened my letter and began to read. But after I read Jane’s opening pleasantries and details of her recent doings, I saw an unexpected name appear on the page. I excused myself from the table, having the sudden desire to be alone with the letter. Once shut away in my room, I began to read again, becoming more astonished by degrees as the letter progressed.

“I have recently returned from a short trip to London,” she wrote. “Bingley’s affairs took him there for two weeks, and I, having nothing pressing at home, decided to accompany him. The balls and outings were quite agreeable in general, though of course my acquaintances were as gossipy as ever. I usually try not to listen too closely to them when they speak in such a fashion, as I do not care to hear others spoken poorly of, difficult as it is to avoid such talk. But there was something in their conversation this time that I could not help but attend to and remember, as it concerns you, my dear sister. When Kitty stayed with me some weeks ago, she happened to mention that you and one Mr. Raleigh (I believe I remember him a little – was he not visiting the Lucases near the time of my and Lizzie’s weddings?) had seemed to be becoming attached to one another. Anyway, one of the ladies in my circle (a Mrs. Dunne; I don’t believe you have met her) told such a scandalous story about him. I have since heard the matter talked of in many places, as it is indeed quite shocking, and I have made a few discreet inquiries to people I believe to be trustworthy about such things, in order to determine whether the story may be believed. Having now become convinced of its overall veracity, I feel that I must now relay the matter to you, as it may be vital for you to know the truth.

You see, the story as I have heard it is that Mr. Raleigh has sunk himself and his mother into great debt – it seems he is a most shocking gambler, and has not only wasted his own funds on the pursuit, but has persuaded his poor mother to lend him money for his habit, thus depleting his inheritance. Because of this, Lady Raleigh has taken it upon herself to find her son a wealthy heiress whom she wishes him to wed and thereby keep the both of them out of debtor’s prison. However, Mr. Raleigh will have none of it and insists on doing as he pleases, and indeed sees no wrong in his behavior, believing it to be his prerogative as a gentleman to partake of what amusements he will. He is said to be appallingly selfish in this matter. I have even heard of vague allusions to his having formed a quiet attachment with a girl, one whom Lady Raleigh had not chosen for him, in order to prove to his mother that he will not be directed by her. Oh, Mary, I feared that the girl may have been you, and I am horrified to think that you may have become unknowingly entangled in this messy web of deceit. I hope that you will write back to me soon and tell me that you have not been drawn too far in; I could not bear it if my poor sister’s name was to be bandied about, especially since I am confident that you have done nothing wrong. Please rest assured that I will do everything in my power to keep you from being known to be connected with the Raleighs in any way. With any luck, this will all pass and you will come out of it unscathed.  And as your sister, I must add that I hope that you have either broken with Mr. Raleigh or are planning to do so soon, for this is not at all the sort of man you ought to be connected to – he can only bring you trouble. How terrible it is that he is not at all what any of us thought he was.”

Hot, angry tears spilled from my eyes onto the paper, and my insides felt numb. The rest of Jane’s letter was far less grave in nature, and I barely skimmed over it. If the words about Mr. Raleigh had not been spelled out in plain ink, I doubt that I would have been able to believe them. My outrage knew no bounds, and I could hardly fathom my sister’s words. How could Mr. Raleigh have done this to me? He had been so selfish in every way, to me and to poor Lady Raleigh. So that had been his business in London, had it? He was to shop for a rich bride in order to save him from his foolish misdeeds.

I seethed, thinking of how easily I had been duped by him. It was apparent now how little I had really known about him – I could not have imagined this of him in a hundred years, so genuine and amiable did he seem. I supposed I ought to have known better…in all the romances, it was the most charming ones who turn out to be the most duplicitous. And duplicitous he had indeed been – it seemed now that everything he had said to me, everything I had been to him, was a lie. I hated that I had been so painfully naïve. I wanted to hate Mr. Raleigh himself, but knew it would do no good to harbor a grudge toward him. It was obvious that he wouldn’t care what feelings roiled inside of me, eating me alive. Though I could not help but wish that he would have to pay the consequences for his actions in some way, the only thing to be done was to try to forget Mr. Raleigh forever, and to hope that my hapless past connection with him wouldn’t bring me to ruin. However, with Jane’s help in directing talk away from me, as well as the fact that I knew few people in London, I had far less to worry about than I might have had otherwise. I thanked the Lord that I had such a sister, and that my quiet ways had come in handy for once. And most of all, I was grateful that I had already decided to have nothing more to do with the man – I shuddered to think what could have happened, had our brief and shallow liaison gone on any longer.

After I composed myself, I wrote a return letter to Jane, assuring her that all was well, that I had indeed broken with Mr. Raleigh, and that I was safe from scorn for now, as far as I knew. The rest of that day, and indeed, the next two or three days, ran together a bit as I lay about the house, feeling utterly at a loss and saying hardly a word to anyone. I spent most of my time trying to reconcile the past happenings to myself, feeling as though I could hardly bear any more momentous events. I had had my fill of them as never before. A mere year ago, I could hardly have dreamt any of what had befallen me and my family in my wildest dreams. And yet, this was the way it was now, and it must be dealt with. I was glad for the time to myself. Time to sort through everything in my mind, time to forgive Mr. Raleigh, time to forgive myself. The latter, it seemed, proved the hardest to accomplish, in spite of the fact that I felt very put-upon by the whole mad affair. But I did what I could to remind myself that foolishness must come before wisdom may be gained, and I hoped that I would indeed gain at least some small measure of it once all was said and done.

On top of all of these ponderings, there was still Mr. Fletcher to be thought of. What was he thinking about me now? Had he seen the truth or would he misunderstand and spurn me forever? What would become of us, in the wake of all these revelations? Ought I to go to him, or should I wait for him to move first? I did not even know what to think, but I yearned to know where I now stood in his eyes.

On the following day, my reverie was broken by yet another letter. It had come to me later than usual, having been somehow forgotten until now, probably because of its diminutive size. This time, the paper had only my name and address written on it, in a hand I did not recognize. Curious, I opened it to behold these words:

“My Dearest Mary,

I must see you. I have had more than my fill of solitude these last few days, and I find that the only thing I long for is to see your face. There is much that I must tell you; I wish for you to understand all. I ask you to come to see me at my home, where we may speak freely and all may be accounted for.”

Directions to the house were included, and the letter closed with these words:

Please say that you will come. I anxiously await your response, and hope that this letter is not in vain.

Yours always,
Harris Fletcher.”

As I finished reading the brief note, my heart flew from the depths of despondency into a soaring hope that was lighter than clouds. I made my plans to leave within the hour.

End Part 20

Dearest readers.

I do not know know who reads this story or even if there is anyone interested in it. No, I’m kidding, I know that about three people are reading it and liking it. hahaha… I’m kidding again; I have faith in the visitors of this website. you love us and we love you I know my story is being read and it’s out there

I just wanted to let you know that the last chapter of this story ”chapter 66″ will be published on the 13th of September so the end is near. I hope that you will stick with me till the end of Abigail’s journey.

I have been publishing each chapter with strong heartbeats and immense enthusiasm and now that it is coming to an end I find myself experiencing the same feelings that I have been expeiencing from the very beginning. I hope that your feelings are still the same and you still like this story and haven’t grown tired of or bored with it.

I just wish that anyone who reads this story eagerly opens her/his computer every Sunday and Monday, opens our blog from the favorite list of websites and looks forward to start reading the next chapter of The Flying Angel.

Your most loyal writer,

Hanna M.M.K

^_^

Chapter fifty-two

Intimacy

I’m a human and I hate humans; we are such weird and ungrateful creatures; I couldn’t wait to see my parents and be with them and now that I am things started to get normal again. I was flying with happiness at the beginning but now after few days have passed things are simply normal. I don’t spend every waking moment with them and they don’t with me. It’s just normal again as if we’ve never been away from each other; I used to imagine that I’ll be holding them all day long and just stay seated beside them, talking to them and listening to them. Why can’t I stay as happy and ecstatic as when I first saw them? Why can’t divine moments of perfect happiness last forever? Why do our feet rest back on the ground instead of flying high forever?

Another reason why I hated humans and especially myself was because I couldn’t sustain the same feeling for long. I was very happy to hate Christopher, really hate him and get rid of every positive feeling I had for him but I was so changeable; why can’t I feel something and reserve that feeling once and for all inside my heart and mind? Why do I have to be confused and disoriented all the time? My troubled mind and its instability were causing me a lot of pain and misery.

I was determined to ignore Christopher and even the sight of him but as usual my feeble strength failed me and I allowed my poor self to look at Christopher from the window. I was a bit relieved that I could see him only from the dining room’s window but not from my bedroom; I wasn’t sure I would be able to control myself and not spend every single moment I’m alone in my room looking at him.  

I started to miss the nightmares that I had before finding my parents; I actually prayed for having nightmares about Artus and enemies and war as the new nightmares that I was having were much, much worse. Christopher conquered every single night, he got the leading role in every single nightmare I had, and I had a lot of nightmares and that wasn’t pleasant. The most frequent nightmare that I had was of Christopher kidnapping my parents; I could see him entering their room, removing their covers harshly, and dragging them out of their beds, I could see their scared and helpless faces; I could hear my mother’s screams and my father’s useless attempts of protecting her and easing her pain. Then suddenly I was there; in the nightmare, the setting changes. I was hiding behind a tree and it was familiar; the tree, the place, and the event; it was the same tree that I hid from Artus behind, it was the same place and I was looking at the same horrifying scene only in the nightmare it was a much worse scene as it wasn’t Artus that I saw getting brutally killed by the hands of Christopher; it was my parents. Christopher was holding that same bloody rock in his hand and with it he hit my parents and killed them. I could see their blood splashing all around, and then Christopher with a bloody face looks at me and smiles a creepy smile as if he’s telling me “You’re next” and then the nightmare ends with me waking up and screaming and feeling the tears falling down on my cheeks.

I haven’t been sleeping well and with all the nightmares and the fear that they planted inside of me, my body was getting weaker and weaker every day.

My parents and I were having breakfast. I left the table and headed towards the window to continue with my inexcusable habit. I looked at Christopher and he was still there; nothing has changed at all. I kept looking for a while as if I was taking my daily dose of medication until suddenly he moved his head and looked up at my window; I gasped unconsciously and swiftly moved away from the window. I felt like a part of my frequent nightmare has turned into reality. That piercing look from Christopher’s eyes caused me some kind of a shiver and anxiety. I felt lightheaded and weak and suddenly fell on the ground. My father with the help of one of the men carried me and put me in my bed; the doctor examined me and I heard him telling my parents that I have a strong but not dangerous nor contagious fever and he can’t do anything to help me; all I needed was rest and good sleep but that wasn’t going to happen easily.

I was lying in my bed with my eyes closed; I felt as if I was a cookie being baked in the oven; my face was burning when suddenly a wet and cold piece of fabric touched my forehead and rested on it. I felt a brilliant feeling of relief. I opened my eyes and it wasn’t my mother as I had expected; it was Richard. I was a bit surprised and unsettled to find him there but I also felt a bit happy to see him so I didn’t really mind it on the contrary I was more relieved for his being there than disturbed

“How are you feeling?” he whispered

“Hot” I replied. He chuckled and took the wet piece of fabric, drowned it again in the bowl of icy water and put it back on my forehead.

“Does that help?”

“A lot, thank you Richard” I really meant it. “How did you know I was sick?”

“I’m used to seeing you in the garden at this time of day so I asked and your parents were kind enough to let me in here… and here I am”

“Thank you for coming”

“Are you kidding; it’s my pleasure” he sighed and kept silent for a moment then said “I missed you, you know; I haven’t really spent time with you ever since we got here”

I didn’t know what to say; I was surprised by what Richard told me; he missed me! He was very forward, maybe he wasn’t that forward but I just wasn’t used to having this kind of talks with him, plus, I sensed some intimacy in his tone and that worried me a little but it also somehow gave me a good and relaxing feeling. I didn’t reply, I just closed my eyes and sighed. I felt the departure of the icy wet fabric from my forehead; Richard took it to soak it again in that bowl but this time he didn’t place it back on my forehead; he ran it all over my face tenderly. It was such a soothing sensation to have icy cold smooth fabric running over my burning skin and cooling it down. Richard was so tender. I relaxed my head that was a little bit tense since I heard what Richard said about missing me. I rested my head back on the pillow and breathed in but I didn’t rest for long for as soon as I felt the fabric moving down towards my chin and finally touching my neck I shivered and opened my eyes; not because I didn’t want Richard to continue but because for a fraction of a second I imagined that it was Christopher like that day when he washed my hair and ran his fingers tenderly and sensationally on my neck. I wanted to cry; I felt like every single thing was reminding me of that person, I couldn’t get a break from him and I needed that break so very badly. It was weird what I felt; as if I had a vision, a live vision of those breathtaking moments that Christopher and I spent that day by the water stream just before we left Morton’s camp.

“Is something wrong?” Richard asked as soon as he noticed how tense I was

“No, no… I’m better now, thank you” I said hoping that he would let go of that piece of cloth but he didn’t; he drenched it in the water again and placed it on my forehead.

I breathed a little as I thought that Richard was leaving. I wanted to be alone; I wanted to cry and blame myself for still remembering Christopher in that beautiful romantic way. I was wrong; Richard wasn’t leaving; he was there to stay. Apparently he really missed spending time with me.

“Abigail, are you all right?” Richard asked looking into my eyes and I understood what he meant; he was asking me about the whole Christopher situation that I’ve been through. I felt honesty in his voice and saw it in his eyes; he was sincere. I couldn’t help myself; I started weeping. Somehow when I was asked in that sincere way I just felt as if rivers of suppressed stress has been unleashed. He held my hand immediately then stood up and came closer to me, he sat beside me on the bed, I moved a little to make space for him. I felt so very unpredictable; one moment a word that he said made me feel nervous and now not only that I was allowing him to join me in my bed and caress me tightly while I cry but I also wanted him to do so. He held me and placed me inside his arms, I didn’t mind although it hurt a little because every similar intimate hug or touch or word reminded me of Christopher and the feelings that I once felt for him but I just needed his warmth and care. It was different than when I was with my parents; I loved them, they loved me and we cared about each other and we were used to talking freely and openly about almost everything but this Christopher thing was different; it was just very intense and sensitive situation and I felt embarrassed to talk about it with them. I felt like this whole thing about Christopher was polluting my relationship with my own parents. I felt wicked and sinful. Plus some things couldn’t be told to them. I needed someone whom I can speak freely with and I found that person in Richard. I just felt that Richard will understand me more; he shared that trip with me and Christopher and he was just a friend, a great, unbiased, and not judgmental  friend and sometimes you can tell things to friends much easier than you can tell them to the closest people to you on earth; your parents. I felt that my parents couldn’t possibly grasp the intensity of the situation and the immensity of what I’ve been through.

I started to relax and allow myself to enjoy the sincerity of Richard’s support. I stopped crying and started talking to him.

“He’s been lying to me all along. I was his… martyr. I’ve been with the abductor of my parents; sharing my food with him, talking to him … caring for him. How can I ever forgive myself?”

“It’s not your fault Abigail, you didn’t know”

“I know, I know that but it’s just very painful to even think about the time, the very long time that I’ve spent with Christopher and was deceived by his… sweet and fake talks… I even fell… I can’t believe I felt the way I did”

A silent moment passed then Richard resumed the conversation

“I was very surprised when I heard what he did; it’s shocking I still can’t believe it”

“Yes I know but I believe it and believing it burns my inside. I wish I can go back in time and undo it all. I wish I can just forget everything, forget Christopher and…” I started crying again. I felt Richard’s arms tightening their grip on me.

“Don’t cry Abigail… I will not tell you that everything is going to be fine and that you’ll forget everything easily but I’ll tell you that I’m here and welling to help you and listen to you whenever you need to talk and get things off your chest” Richard said in his familiar and sincere voice.

“Thank you Richard” I whispered. The door suddenly opened and my mother walked in. She looked at us and immediately walked back saying “sorry”

“No please my lady. I was on my way out” Richard said gently and immediately helping me out of his arms he left the room while I stayed there to face and endure the awkward moment with my mother but I discovered that what my mother had in mind was much worse than finding Richard with me in my bed wrapping me inside his arms.

“Abigail … what happened back there?” my mother started. I understood her immediately but I couldn’t admit to it

“What do you mean mother?”

“You know what I mean”

“No I honestly don’t” I lied trying hard to deny what really happened and why I really fainted like that

“You looked at the window and then suddenly gasped as if you’ve seen a ghost and then you fell down so please tell me, I might be able to help you my child”

I took advantage of what my mother said and used it in making up a believable story.

“Yes, I remember now; I saw an eagle, a huge one; it suddenly appeared in front of my eyes and I felt like it was going to attack me” I stopped and looked deep in my mother’s eyes to see if my story had a chance of being believed and then I continued hesitantly “I freaked out and I’m just real tired mother that’s why I fainted. That huge bird just startled me and I…”

“Abigail you can’t continue being as… fragile as this… you have to toughen up sometime” I knew that my mother didn’t believe my bird story but I also knew that she is a great person and she wouldn’t want to put me under the spot and embarrass me; she would wait until I go to her and tell her things, real things.

“I know, I know mother and I will, it’s just that… I haven’t been sleeping well lately, you must understand… Richard was a great help; I’ll just…” I can’t believe I was actually using Richard now to get out of mother’s questions. What annoyed me at the beginning and was considered awkward was my escape and rescue now.

“Richard is really handsome and he seems to care much for you” my mother said with a smile on her face.

“He does and I care for him… mother I need to get some sleep if you don’t mind. We’ll talk later” I lied

“Oh yes sure; you go ahead and sleep as much as you can; you need it” my mother said, kissed me on the forehead and left and I was once again left alone to think and hate myself and sink into darkness.

Chapter fifty-one

Certainty

I was still sitting with my parents waiting for them to explain to me whatever they were whispering and arguing about. I tried to explain the weird relief that conquered my heart and the only explanation that I could come up with was that a small part of Christopher had returned when I found out that he really helped me and saved my life even if in some small and twisted way. Christopher was my safe haven; he was my shelter and sanctuary for a very long time; I used to think of him and long to hear his voice and feel his touch whenever I felt a bit unwell and discovering that this refugee of mine has been fake and out of order made me feel terrified and heartbroken but to find out that maybe it hasn’t been all fake; at least some small part of it was true and genuine made me feel kind of relieved. No, I should stop thinking this way, I cannot be weak, I cannot be fragile, I cannot allow my heart and my desires to trifle with my mind and plant seeds of forgiveness inside it.

“Abigail, we believe that Adrian or whatever his name is is the one who helped us escape from the Normans” my mother said, my father stood up and walked towards the window and looked out.

“What? You told me that he abducted you!”

“He did, he… We’re not really sure if…” my mother stopped talking as I believe she didn’t know what to say; it must be confusing. I joined my father and as soon as I arrived I could see that he was looking at Christopher who was visible from our window; luckily we were on a high floor so he couldn’t see us. I didn’t look for long as even looking at him hurt me. I walked away from the window and sat on my chair again and asked

“Father what is my mother talking about?”

“You’re mother is right, we have every reason to believe that Adrian was indeed that man in the mask now that you’ve told us about what happened with you” my father replied

“What mask?” I asked

“We were liberated by a masked man. When the group of Normans who abducted us first stopped to rest they sat under a tree and left us tied tightly to the horses. A masked man suddenly approached us and cut us loose and then disappeared. We were able to elude because he helped us and…”

“And what makes you think that that masked man is Adrian?” I asked and the feeling of my pronouncing that name was unfamiliar and painful

“Who else would it be? There was only us and that group of Normans in that field that day and knowing that he lied about finding you in the house and that he came back to you and saved you, I don’t know there must be some good in him I presume” my father replied

“Yes but… how did he get back to our house so fast? He came before you and before…”

“He must have taken a short cut; I don’t know maybe he had planned it well in his mind before actually applying it” my father said interrupting me.

I paused for a second to think and thinking got me to a very awful epiphany… I continued saying “If he covered for me and then set you free and after that came back for me then he knew that you were… why didn’t he bring me to you? Why didn’t he stay with you and lead you back to me?”

My parents were silent; I couldn’t stop or even hold back the rage that was growing inside me. The more I thought about it the more I grew more and more furious. I couldn’t conceive of the fact that Christopher actually drove me away and farther from my parents. I might have been few minutes away from them and he knew it but he still forced me, even worse convinced me to leave, run, and keep moving as quickly as I could and even quicker than I could manage. He lied to me, he didn’t only hide information but actually lied, he said that my parents were taken away and were not coming back anytime soon and that made me agree to leave, I wouldn’t have left if I knew that there was a slight possibility that my parents were to come back to me. I realized that Christopher didn’t help me, didn’t protect me; he abducted me just like he abducted my parents; with his lies he was able to sabotage our life and just play with it. Christopher is the reason behind the perpetual separation between me and my parents and that I can never ever forgive. Yes I cannot forgive him and I’m happy to finally make up my mind and be hundred percent sure that Christopher is to be expelled out of my mind, heart, and whole life.

I looked at my parents and they were still silent. I had to share them my thoughts

“Mother, father…” after a sigh I continued “Adrian; that awful man chained outside caused all what happened to us”

They looked at me and kept silent. I didn’t know what to say; there weren’t enough words to describe the wrath I was feeling but wrath wasn’t the only thing I felt; I was also regretful; I couldn’t stop thinking about what could have happened if I wasn’t so very weak and fragile; because I was that way I believed Christopher and went with him; I was too scared to follow my own heart and make up my own decisions. I wanted to go with him and just run away from my torn up and empty house; I deserve what happened to me, I’m such a weak, stupid, and pathetic person.

“I’m so sorry” I started, my parents looked at me immediately with inquisitive eyes, I continued “You don’t deserve such a… frail daughter, I have let you down in every possible way, I even let myself down; I was very thick when I needed to be witty, I was feeble when you needed me to be strong, I just gave up and I have cowardly run away from troubles instead of facing them bravely”

My parents kept silent and looking at me, my mother was crying and I hated that I was once again the cause behind her precious tears. My father approached me and hugged me tightly and whispered

“Don’t you ever say that again my child; I couldn’t hope for a better daughter; you are my life and your mother and I adore you and that can never ever change”

I placed my head on my father’s chest and started crying. It was such a brilliant feeling to be held by the only man on earth whom I truly loved and who was truly worthy of my love; my father.  

“Were you scared Abigail?” my father resumed the conversation as soon as my mother and I stopped crying. I could sense the sadness he felt for me in his voice.

“Scared?” I whispered, paused for a moment and then continued “I believe this word has lost its meaning to me… You see usually scared is the feeling that occurs every once in a while, in some certain circumstances but in my case it became a part of me, a part of my life, my unwanted companion that I forgot how it feels not to have it in my life, I forgot how one feels other than feeling afraid”

“I wish I can erase every single bad memory from your mind” my mother said in a sad voice

“You did mother, just by being here with me again” I replied in a relatively cheerful tone. I’ve been lucky; everyone I met so far had lost beloved friends in this ugly war but I hadn’t; I found my beloved family and was reunited with them and that should be enough and satisfying. I could say that I was just like everyone else and I did lose someone; but I couldn’t and didn’t want to as I refused to admit that Christopher had even once occupied a special space in my heart.

“So how did you marry him then?” My father asked and I started explaining

“It was needed; I had to marry him because I was… under his protection… we went to an occupied but peaceful village and he told me that I can’t be alone; the Normans would never let me be if I wasn’t married and without my family but it was fake; it was just to have legal papers that would shut the Normans away. I used a fake last name and he… everything about him was fake so we’re not really… nothing happened I swear… I mean… it was just… he never even…” I stopped talking as I felt my head boiling with shamefulness and embarrassment. My mother held my hand and sighed. My father stayed as he was.

“I guess he lied to me about that too; I shouldn’t have married him, I would have been safe enough with…”

“No he didn’t; he was right; they would have…” my father interrupted himself with a big sigh.

After a long while of silence my father suddenly walked towards the door of the room, opened it and ordered one of the soldiers in the hallway saying

“Get that man some food and water”

Four – The Abyss

 For the first minutes, Anne just started walking down the pavement of Camden Place.

She was too stunned to notice who was strolling along the broad sidewalk in the damp and cold March evening. There were not a lot of people outside and certainly not on foot. Only a few carriages drove by and hurried away. When violent shivers started rolling down her back, Anne came out of her bewilderment and looked around her. Realisation hit her like a blow in the face; she was out in the streets, alone, at night, with absolutely nothing to cover her and she was getting cold and wet.

Where could she go, to whom could she turn? It was as if an abyss was beginning to yawn in front of her, a chasm widening by the second, already too large to span.

Frederick! She must go to Queen Square and ask for shelter. The kind Admiral and Mrs. Croft would surely take her in for the night and tomorrow she could make other arrangements. Full of hope she began running towards her destination when a light but ice-cold sleet was starting to fall, soaking her within moments. Her woollen dress was no protection against this weather. Before she had even reached Camden Road, where she hoped to find a cab, the South-East wind was picking up, further draining her of whatever warmth was left in her slender body. Anne’s hair was coming down and wet strands were blown into her eyes. She impatiently wiped them away but to no avail. God! She needed to get out of this torrent! Stumbling blindly into a dark porch she welcomed the temporary lull out of the wind and rain. Her heart was beating like a drum and her lungs were aching from her run.

A growl came from behind her and Anne swivelled around! Looming over her like a spectrum of hell was a large figure of a man, his huge, calloused hands reaching out to her! A beggar! The thought rushed through her numb brain but she was totally unable to move when the hands grabbed her by the shoulders. An acrid smell of rancid beer wafted over her and then came the stink of unwashed body, of rags that were never washed, of poverty and deprivation.

“Please, …”

“Beautiful …”

The voice was deep and hoarse and now Anne saw the man’s face, crude, unshaved, gaunt. It came closer to her own and suddenly her brain was working again! Anne tore herself out of the man’s grasp and stumbled backwards. Losing her footing, she fell and her head hit the pavement.

The dreaded abyss yawned widely and swallowed her.

~~~~

“Sir Walter,” Lady Russell asked again, “am I to understand that you … that you expelled Anne from your house, at night and in a downpour of sleet? Did she say where she was going?”

Lady Russell could barely fathom what must have happened the night before, when she had left this house. She did, however, began to have an inkling of how much Sir Walter hated his middle child. He had never had any love for her but it frightened Lady Russell to see how much he despised his daughter.

“No, she did not. I am not in the least interested in her whereabouts and nor should you, Lady Russell. Anne is dead to me and to Elizabeth. We will never speak her name again in this house.”

“But … she could be … what if she … she could have gone to that man’s lodgings and throw herself at him! She is violently in love with him!”

“Madam!”, Sir Walter bellowed, “You forget yourself! I am fully aware of the fact that you were my late wife’s dearest friend but that gives you no right to interfere with my personal affairs! Kindly take yourself off, your presence is no longer wished for!”

Lady Russell began to understand a little better what Anne must have felt the night before, now that she was shown into the street by a haughty footman who banged the door shut after her.

~~~~

“Absolutely shocking!”, Sir Walter said, his voice rigid with disapproval.

“What would that be, dearest father?”, Elizabeth Elliot asked without lifting her eyes out of the fancy women’s magazine she was perusing at the breakfast table.

“The “Bath Daily Gazette” is fast becoming a veritable rag, these days! They are reporting about crime, can you believe it? As if respectable people would take an interest in the vile lower layers of Society and their disgusting deeds! It says here a … I don’t know what to call it … a person without a place to live has been shot through the head, last night!”

“You could call it a homeless person, I think,” Elizabeth mused and put her finger to her chin as if deep in thought.

“Oh, my goodness! It happened on Camden Road! That is two blocks away from here, outrageous! I must call upon Sir Bertram Coleridge, our M.P. right away this morning! He must take urgent measures to ensure that such a matter never occurs ever again in my neighbourhood!”

~~~~

The thin, emaciated figure of the physician straightened his aching back away from the bed whereupon a small, slender woman was lying. He turned towards the man behind him and declared:

“The lady will regain consciousness very soon now, sir. She suffers from severe concussion and must be kept in a dimmed room for at least ten days. It is to be foreseen that she will be violently sick when she awakes. She is allowed only a drop of water and no solid food for a week. It is also possible that there are repercussions to be expected, such as severe headaches, memory lapses, anxiety attacks, delusions and hallucinations. Do not pay any attention to them but keep her tied onto the bed to protect her from harming herself.”

The gentleman by the door nodded towards the servant who stood beside him, a large brute of a man with a face like a ferret’s and small beady eyes.

“If you would care to come with me, doctor,” he mumbled in a hoarse voice, “my master ordered me to have you paid.”

The doctor gathered his instruments in his bag and followed the servant downstairs into a dim lit parlour. A violent blow on the head sent him rolling over the carpet. A second later, the servant shot him through the head with a pistol wrapped in a blanket to mask the blast of the shot.

Upstairs, the tall figure of the gentleman stared at the motionless, naked body of the girl on the bed.

“Hell’s bells, woman!”, he shouted at the maid next to the bed, “cover her up, will you! She is appallingly ugly! I never thought her beautiful but now, I think her truly hideous! Be sure to keep her tied and blindfolded the whole time, even when you feed her, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the maid whimpered and hurried to do her master’s bidding.

Three – Wentworth’s Dilemma

As Wentworth walked back to Queen’s Square, where his sister and the Admiral had lodgings, he was acutely aware of several matters upsetting him.

Anne’s uppity family, with their stiff, unbending behaviour, was the most disturbing of them. How would her father treat her for the remaining time his middle daughter would stay under his roof? Wentworth understood only now what his beloved Anne had gone through these past eight years. He felt ashamed for letting his wounded feelings guide him at the time of their break-up.

Then there was his own family to be informed.

His sister, Sophie Croft, would be most astonished when she heard of his engagement to Anne. What would be her reaction if he asked her to take Anne into her home until their wedding? He would have to find some hotel to stay, of course. It would be most improper to live in the same house as his betrothed before they were married.

Furthermore, there was Kellynch Hall.

Wentworth wanted to buy it as a wedding present for Anne. It was high-prized but not a challenge to his substantial fortune, which was well invested and secure. He intended to administer the estate himself and restore it to its rightful prosperity. To that purpose he would have to start from the bottom up; Sir Walter’s extravaganzas had drained Kellynch to an inch of bankruptcy.

Tomorrow would prove to be a busy day; he needed to procure a wedding licence and to purchase an estate.

~~~~

When the footman announced a visitor, Anne was puzzled as to whom it might be. It was almost ten in the evening! If she had planned to attend a soiree or a dance, Anne would be about to leave now. If, on the contrary, she had planned to stay in, then the hour for visits was a trifle late. She quickly checked her appearance in her mirror and chuckled at herself by doing so. Since Frederick’s kiss that morning, her attitude towards herself had changed; she wanted to look beautiful and perfect, not only for him, but also for all the rest of the world.

In excited anticipation she entered the drawing room. In front of the sofa stood Lady Russell and Anne froze in dismay. This was the last person she wanted to see, let alone speak to. However, while she made her curtsy, Anne realised that Lady Russell did not yet know of her betrothal to Frederick nor that she was aware of Anne’s changed feelings towards her.

Lady Russell stepped forward and grabbed Anne’s hands in hers.

“My dear Anne,” she said, in an urging voice, “please tell me if the rumours are true and you have accepted the proposal of Captain Wentworth?”

“I have, indeed,” Anne beamed.

Lady Russell’s face showed utmost disapproval.

“But, my dear child, you cannot do that! You are about to throw yourself into a hasty and most unsatisfactory marriage to a man who is not your equal! Anne, you are a baronet’s daughter and Captain Wentworth has no breeding at all! You must break up with him immediately and remove yourself from him once again. We could go on a journey to the Continent, Italy perhaps, to smoothen the parting.”

Anne tore her hands free and drew herself up. This woman still had the power to make her feel like a little girl!

“I’m afraid you are mistaken, Lady Russell,” she said, in a respectful but firm tone of voice.

She saw the woman’s brows go up in astonishment and hastened to continue.

“On the contrary, I am very determined to marry my dear Frederick. We have been separated for far too long a time and will lose no more precious years of happiness.”

The flash of fury was undeniable in Lady Russell’s eyes and her thin lips stiffened in dismay.

“Anne, you are acting very foolishly! Do you wish to be shunned by Society? No one that is of any importance will be inviting you at their home in the future. You will become an outcast. Is that what you wish for you and that man, and, God forbid, for your future children?”

Anne had the greatest trouble in keeping her face serious. What unimportant and petty matters did upset this stupid woman! In a gesture of pity she laid her hand on Lady Russell’s arm and said gently:

“Dear Lady Russell, I know you were my mother’s best friend and you have been mine for countless years but in this, you are wrong. You don’t know Frederick and are therefore not in a position to criticize him. We will do as we planned and if Society does not approve, we will ignore it. Happiness does not depend on what people think of you.”

In a tone that could have frozen lava, the now truly enraged gentlewoman all of spat at Anne.

“I never could have dreamed, Anne Elliot, of you turning into a hussy! For that is what you will be called soon! Have you even considered what your brainless action will do to your poor father? He is a baronet, Anne! His very reputation will be destroyed and so will that of your poor sisters! I beg of you, come to your senses!”

Suddenly Anne had heard enough. She rushed to the door of her bedchamber, grabbed it and tore it open.

“I would be obliged to you if you would step outside, Madam! No more will be said about this affair and I will do as I see fit!”

Gathering her skirts in a gesture fit to tear them, Lady Russell swept out and finally, Anne was able to breathe a sigh of relief. She was not allowed much peace because the door burst open again and Sir Walter stalked into the room. Anne gasped! Never had she seen her father’s face so contorted with rage!

“Madam! You will leave my house this instant without taking so much as a pair of stockings or a comb! You are no longer a daughter of mine and I do not ever wish to see to again!”

The baronet grabbed Anne’s arm and literally dragged her downstairs, through the hall and out of the front door which slammed shut behind her with a deafening boom.

Anne was on the streets without a coat, bonnet or reticule. She had nothing, not even her intimate belongings and what was even worse, she had not the slightest inkling to what she was to do next.

CLICK HERE for PART NINE