I Am A Lady #Wattys2015

Chapter Nineteen

'Just like you said, she's married. I saw her husband today. They were walking in the gardens.' He held onto the cushion tighter

'You didn't expect her to hold onto your memory Angelo. You have been dead, she believed you were dead. '

'She was not supposed to find a husband.'

'He was found for her. Her mother...'

'It had to be her mother,' Angelo lay back in bed. Beatrice had been good to him. Taken care of him. His wounds were still healing and despite her advice he would go walking about. It had taken him a long while, a few good years to be exact, to be ale to walk again. Ashton and that bastard Markham had tried to kill him. They would surely pay. He had regained his ability to move but Beatrice had insisted he not move about too much. But now the time had come. He was a foolish naive boy then, not anymore. He was coming to lay claim to what was his. He would begin with Anna. 

Against Beatrice's wishes he had gone to see her. He had to know what she looked like, who she was married to. Most importantly, was she happy?

He saw the pain in her eyes and her tears flowing down her face. Beatrice had saved him but he couldn't remember who he was. If only he had he would have been with her. He found solace in the fact that Annabelle would never lay with one whom she did not love. If her mother had chosen a husband he was certain she did not love him at all. She looked miserable when he saw her, like a woman who was hurting and needed a way out.

Angelo let the pain wash over him. He found comfort in it. It reminded him of the things he hated and his hate fueled his want and need for revenge. He had never understood his brother until now. He was thirsty, thirsty for blood. Ashton's blood.

He closed his eyes and played back the events of that day, like he did every night before he went to sleep. He had gone to see Annabelle believing she was in need. He was chased into the thicket of trees and then shot. His body sunk and drifted away with the mild current and eventually he was released from the world. Beatrice had pulled him out of the water and taken care of his wounds. She was a kind woman, no, she was a kind lady. Her features were nothing like Annabelle's but she was not ugly

Her skin was chocolate brown, rich chocolate, the kind Angelo used to eat when he was a child. Her eyes were brown, not a distinct brown, just brown. Her hair was wiggly and scattered all over her face, like a bush. She had a beautiful smile, the kind that made Angelo's heart skip a beat whenever she showed it to him. He was a man and would be lying if he said he had not tried her. She did not disappoint in bed. 

 He was now drifting off to sleep. He could see Annabelle in the distance walking and all of a sudden a man joined her, her husband. He held her hand and kissed her gently on the cheek before they walked farther away from him. He tried calling out her name but she was too far and he couldn't run. The next face he saw was Beatrice's face.

Annabelle was seated by her window watching the sun sink into the far earth. The air was cool, she enjoyed these moments. Her thoughts centered around her life. She was now married to a man whom she loved sometimes and sometimes all she wanted was to be as far away from him as possible. He had shown her affection and at times she swore she saw love in his eyes but he was cold. Nothing like her relationship with Angelo. It held warmth and a feeling of belonging.

She didn't understand her husband, ever since Lord Conrad's visit he had seemed distracted. Almost as if he didn't know he was living with another person. He locked himself up in his study and hardly came out. When he did leave his study he marched straight to his bedroom without saying a word. He even had his meals in his study.

Her eyes were fixed on the spot she saw Angelo, if he really was alive what would happen to her marriage. Would she give it up? Could she really leave a man she made a vow to before God for another. She closed her eyes and hoped to feel the answer. The only thing she felt was pain and hurt and something else. Something new.

A knock on her door drew her back to her surroundings. Whoever it was didn't wait for an answer, it had to be him. George closed the door behind him. He had a look of designation on his face. He looked her over slowly taking in her features under the rays of disappearing sunlight. She looked slimmer like she had not eaten well in days. He had asked her ladies and they all said she hardly ate and spent her time at the window staring into the distance. Lord Conrad had brought the worst news to his home. Angelo was alive he had confirmed it. He was living with the lady everyone termed as a witch. She was now caring for the man who would be well enough to take his wife away from him.

He had asked his good friend to pay her a visit but Lord Conrad wanted nothing to do with the matter. His wife would not appreciate it, even if it was as a favor to his dear old friend. George had taken up the task himself. Beatrice never knew the word subtle, she laced herself around him and tried to distract him from the matter that had brought him. He got nothing

Now looking at his wife, he was simply counting the days to her departure. She loved this man and they shared many memories together. Yes, they had consummated their marriage. Yes, they shared a few laughs, but she never showed him affection, real affection.

George was lost. He didn't know whether he loved the woman before him or not. But he knew for sure his pride would not let her go, at least not without a fight.

'A painter,' her words brought him back. He hadn't realized he had been standing there so long.

'Excuse me?'

'A painter. He could paint my portrait and you can hang it up and then you can stand and stare at it at your own leisure,' she said as she made her way to her bed. She threw the pillows on the floor and pulled back the sheets. He hadn't noticed she was only wearing her night gown. A thin silk material that hide very little. 'Is there a reason you are here Sir George? I would like to lay down. I had a long day.'

He didn't know why he was here. He had paced back and forth in front of her door for quite some time before he knocked. 'I was hoping we would be able to have a civil conversation. One without...' he couldn't find the word.

She was now sitting up in bed. Her hands wrapped around her knees. 'Civil,' she repeated

'Without that,' he pointed to her. A small smile crept on her face but soon disappeared. It , however, lingered in her eyes.

'If Angelo was alive,' she stiffened at the mention of his name. 'If Angelo is alive, what would that mean for us?'

'I am married Sir George. I believe we have gone over this matter already. '

'Yes we have and you have said it before. But tell me honestly, if Angelo was to walk through the door would you leave me?'

The question caught her by surprise.