What Must Not Be Told

Whispers of Affection

Anne

As we arrived at the castle in Elderwood, we were greeted warmly by Marilyn's mother and aunt. "Oh, dear Anne, you've been an indispensable help throughout the wedding preparations, my love," she exclaimed, her voice laced with genuine admiration and gratitude, as she clasped my hands in hers.

Her words, infused with warmth, shifted to Elliot, who stood just behind me. "Greetings, Lord Pollard," she addressed him, her tone reverent. "Aren't you a fortunate gentleman, indeed? You've truly won in life to have Lady Anne as your lovely wife," she complimented Elliot, much to my embarrassment. A flush of color warmed my cheeks at the unexpected praise, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease when she referred to me as his wife. Despite our growing bond during the journey to Elderwood, the title felt oddly unfamiliar and out of place.

Elliot cleared his throat, seamlessly slipping into the role of deception as he placed a reassuring hand on my back. "I certainly am, Mrs. Smith," he affirmed with practiced ease. "I offer my gratitude to the heavens each night for blessing me with such a remarkable woman. Indeed, I count myself fortunate," he continued, his words flowing effortlessly.

My heart fluttered at his confident delivery, and I stole a glance upward, meeting his gaze. Despite the charade, a flicker of uncertainty lingered in his eyes beneath the veneer of his smile. It was a subtle moment of vulnerability, swiftly concealed behind a facade of composure. As our eyes locked, I couldn't help but marvel at his adeptness at deception. While I struggled with nerves, he remained composed and collected, his demeanor unwavering. It left me wondering—what hidden depths lay beneath his calm facade, and what experiences had molded him into such a skilled actor?

Marilyn's aunt, Mrs. David's soft chuckle interrupted our shared gaze, drawing our attention away. She grinned warmly at us, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Ah, aren't you two just lovely," she gushed, her words dripping with genuine admiration. "I've always said it—you both make the finest couple in town. Lord Elliot is truly a fortunate man," she continued, her praise extending to me as she turned her gaze towards me.

"You, Anne," she addressed me directly, her tone filled with sincerity, "are equally blessed to be wedded to such a caring and handsome man," she added with a smile, her words carrying a warmth that enveloped us both. Her kind words were like a gentle embrace, reaffirming the connection that had blossomed between Elliot and me, even amidst the pretense of our fabricated union. "I just wish that my Bethany finds a fine gentleman like you, Lord Elliot," she added with a soft sigh, her voice tinged with a wistful longing.

Mrs. David is infamous as the town's resident gossipmonger, her reputation preceding her like a dark cloud over Silverhelm. Known for her insatiable curiosity and penchant for weaving tales out of thin air, she's the lady most folks try to avoid like the plague. Her predatory eyes seem to scan everyone and everything, ever on the lookout for the next juicy morsel of information to spread around town.

I had been forewarned about her by her own niece, Marilyn, who cautioned me never to divulge any secrets in her presence. Marilyn's words echoed in my mind like a warning bell, reminding me of the potential danger lurking behind Mrs. David's seemingly innocuous facade.

In her presence, Elliot and I trod cautiously, acutely aware of the delicate web of deceit we had woven around our fake relationship. It irked me to no end that whenever our paths crossed, I'd inevitably catch her scrutinizing me with those calculating eyes. I'd offer her a polite smile, all the while inwardly bracing myself for the possibility of her uncovering the truth about our charade. The fear of her uncovering our carefully guarded secret loomed over me like a shadow, a constant reminder of the perilous game we were playing.