Collection of Older Works

Flashbacks of a Fool: Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Annabelle jumped upon hearing her stomach rumble in loud disapproval of her deciding against supper. Had not the affairs of the day been more than enough for her nerves, to then add rich sauces and broths to her knotted stomach? No, no. Disasters were of plenty to willingly bring about further discomfort. Much to Annabelle's dismay, Mrs. Hawkins had been invited to supper at which time Nathaniel expressed his dissatisfaction with Logan's current governess, in turn offering Mrs. Hawkins the position. Annabelle could have died as the devil woman was set to stay. And though Mrs. Hawkins purposely refused Annabelle her gaze during the evening meal, uttering but a few simple pleasantries, Annabelle still felt her icy eyes upon her, branding her skin like snake fangs, her few words settling into her veins like poison. 

She gritted her teeth. Damn the deceitful woman! She was up to something; surely she was--but what? Had she not promised that Nathaniel would hate her if she dared weasel herself into his life? Was marriage not considered the ultimate meddling? Yet, Nathaniel was as affectionate as was proper and acceptable; never once letting on that something perturbed him or afflicted his mind. He had indeed sat awfully quiet, Annabelle internally refuted but then dismissed it in remembering his request that she sit beside him instead of at the end of the large oak table, to which he then followed by holding her hand, his finger stroking hers in soft rhythmic circles. She blushed. If he only knew how his touch affected her, causing sensations she hadn't ever felt before? But as torturous as the affair had been, If not for his touch, Annabelle was sure she wouldn't have made it through the tribulation without either releasing the contents of her stomach onto her plate or climbing over the table and savagely strangling the mask from the face of the seemingly well behaved woman that was Mrs. Hawkins. 

Settling further into her chair, Annabelle shivered. No matter what warmth the fire offered, the cold numbness would not rid itself from her bones. Goodness, perhaps she shouldn't have excused herself from supper in case Mrs. Hawkins decided to wage her war in her absence--

Nonsense! There was no way she could guard Nathaniel from his mother for the rest of his life out of fear. No, she had to think!  Rising in hopes of dispelling the cold by moving about the room, Annabelle sighed.  If Nathaniel only knew of the monster lurking behind his mother's silk gown surely a priest would be called for an exorcism.

But the devil woman had behaved and was tucked away in one of the many apartments for the night-

Annabelle froze. In all her furious thinking, she forgot about the matter that now twisted her nerves into a suffocating tangle; her wedding night.  Expectantly glancing at the connecting door to Nathaniel's room, she envisioned him walking in, the sheer thought arresting her breathing. He would come to her that night, to consumate their marriage. 

Suddenly, as if on a cruel cue, the door slightly opened,

 "Annabelle," Nathaniel called quietly, "are you awake?"

Dear God. Her nerves shattered, the softness of his voice striking her like lightning. Gripping onto the bedpost for support, she hoarsely intended to answer, but her voice failed her. Forcing her nerves into submission, her heart instantly fell to her feet as Nathaniel entered and behind him, closed the door.

Eyes aflame with fear and uncertainty, she watched as he pensively walked to the sitting area, his face expressionless.  Sliding off his waistcoat, he draped it on the back of the chair and paused.

Silence.

Something was wrong. Why else would he be so solemn? So...unreadable? Dispersing the cowardly thoughts, she opened her mouth to voice her concerns when he met her eyes, "How are you feeling?"