Chapter 24 Hanna
HANNA
Hanna was carrying a tray back to the side door of the main house after the fine lords and ladies had taken their repast and started making their way into the house for other activities.
A hunting party was always a busy time for the staff, and Hanna had no problem lending a helping hand. In fact, she had surprised Alaric with her offer.
She hoped one day she might be accepted here again, as a wife, as a resident of the estate.
One day, her son might even be the next warden of the forest, after Alaric.
The cheery thought of her boy following her man through the forest made her smile down foolishly at her tray, humming a light tune.
Lifting her chin with a smile, Hanna stepped proudly in her new gown and shoes, thinking of how lovely it would be to return home at Alaric’s side after the success of the day.
She wanted to make him proud.
As she took the gravel path around the side of the manor towards the kitchens, a hand shot out from an alcove ahead and gripped her hard on the arm, yanking her almost off her feet and sending her happy thoughts scattering like marbles thrown on the sand as the tray and glasses fell to the ground.
“There you are,” hissed young Lord Emsley, his expression hard and arrogant as he hauled her into the small enclave without a thought to her person.
He sneered down at the shards of glass at their feet and tsk’ed to himself.
“Now look at what you have done. It seems you make a mess everywhere you go.”
Hanna held herself rigid, refusing to let the old fear overwhelm her in the man’s presence. She was no longer a helpless girl, alone in the world.
She belonged to someone now. She was safe.
“Unhand me,” Hanna said in her sternest tone, lifting her chin defiantly.
Emsley chuckled coldly, running his eyes up and down her person in a dismissive manner. “Oh, the kitten has found her claws. Very well, make sure you bring them to my rooms later. You might need them.”
“I will do no such thing,” Hanna sniffed, dragging her arm free and stepping back. “I am not beholden to you, I never was.”
“Now, now, is that really true? I distinctly remember you blushing sweetly as you accepted the many tokens of my affection. You were a relatively cheap purchase, I must admit.”
Hanna felt a rage she had never experienced before stir within her, and she spat at his feet.
“Careful, my dear, you wouldn't want to annoy me. You might not like the consequences.”
“What could you possibly do to me now?” Hanna exclaimed.
“Oh, there is always one last play.” Emsley circled her in a calculating manner.
“Your new husband might be interested in hearing my side of events. Of the way you tried to trap me into marriage by getting yourself with child, of your confessions of undying love and adoration… Why, I am sure he would be grateful to be rid of you when he knows how easily you opened your legs for me.”
“You are a vile serpent,” Hanna hissed. “Alaric will never believe you.”
Ashton looked at her consideringly. “No? Well then, what if I decide to claim the boy as my own? I would take him and raise him in the station he deserves. How would that look, I wonder?”
“You wouldn’t take him,” she gasped, the colour draining from her face at the thought.
Of course, he could. He was a lord, he could do whatever he liked.
“Oh, yes, I certainly would. What would you do to keep your boy, I wonder?”
“I will never come to you, I will never allow you to touch me again,” Hanna gasped in despair, her mind spinning with distress and hopelessness.
She couldn’t, she wouldn’t. It would destroy her.
“We shall see,” replied Ashton with an arched brow, nonchalantly sliding his hand into his waistcoat and rocking on his heels. “A woman alone in this world does not have many choices.”
Hanna stepped back into the sunlight as terror struck her down.
No, Alaric would never abandon her. She would have to trust him.
Just then, she heard her name, and Hanna spun to find Alaric standing just down the pathway, looking at her curiously.
Lord Emlsey smirked wickedly at Hanna’s expression, then stepped purposely into view, tipping his hat to Alaric with a knowing expression, before strolling away in a leisurely fashion.
Leaving Hanna alone to watch as Alaric’s expression changed from confused to thunderous. Anger flashed in his gaze as it swung from her to Emsley and then back again.
Tears threatened, and Hanna ducked her head in shame and bent to pick up the glass shards and the tray at her feet. Anything to distract her from dealing with what had just happened.
When she looked up, Alaric was gone, and she was all alone.
Just as she always was.
The afternoon passed in a blur as Hanna felt her anxiety rising to unbearable heights. Alaric seemed to be strictly avoiding her, keeping himself busy with the underkeepers and the hounds, while Hanna hovered with the other servants, helping with packing away the picnic.
She noticed Alaric stalk into the trees as the day drew to a close, and hesitantly she followed him, thinking to explain or try and talk to him. Anything to ease this discomfort, to make him look at her with the affection she now craved from him.
As she slipped deeper into the trees, Hanna heard low voices muttering angrily ahead. Stepping closer, she found Alaric glaring at Lord Emsley, his arms crossed, legs splayed, anger bunching his forehead as the two men argued.
A branch snapped under her foot, and Alaric’s gaze snapped to hers, but she quickly ducked away, hurrying back to the party to excuse herself from the others and quickly make her way home.
She knew what Emsley would be telling Alaric. Knew the terrible things her man would think of her now.
She felt sick and had to stop and lean against a tree, breathing harshly through the wave of nausea that bent her over.
Hands shaking, Hanna managed to make it back to their cottage. A place she had started to think of as home, a place for them to be a family.
Little James was kicking his feet on a blanket in the front garden, with Maria keeping her eye on him as she darned a pile of garments.
“Hanna, dear, is everything all right?” asked the woman as Hanna bent and kissed James's forehead, hiding her face from her friend, who she knew would see straight through her.
“Yes,” lied Hanna, walking quickly through the house to the kitchen, where she went straight to the pail and splashed her cheeks, hoping that she could get herself under control before Alaric arrived back.
His boots sounded on the front room floorboards, and Hanna froze, her heart thumping wildly.
She felt a wild feeling crashing around inside of her, something terrible that had nowhere to escape to.
As if facing the gallows, she turned and watched as Alaric walked into the kitchen with a scowl on his face, throwing a brace of partridge down on the kitchen table and turning his look in her direction.
She couldn’t take it any longer, the feeling burst inside of her, and Hanna picked up her skirts and ran out the back door of the kitchen, dashing through the vegetable patch and scampering over the low stone wall at the back of the house.
In front of her lay the weald, in all its wild, terrible glory, dark and thick with trees. A place she could hide, a place she could get lost in.
She fled for the treeline, holding her skirts high as brambles tore at her wool stockings and the air came hot and heavy in her lungs.
As she made it to the trees she chose a direction and swerved towards the deep thickets. She needed somewhere to hide, somewhere no one would find her. Where she could be safe and alone and … become nothing.
She was crying now as she ran, her sobs jagged and rough as her breath laboured, her pace slowing as the high of her panic started to crash into clear sharp fear.
“Hanna. Hanna!” came Alaric’s voice from behind her, sharp and angry yet muffled by the thick forest, and it spurred her on in her desperate sprint through the woods.
She did not know this part of the forest, and here and there she slowed, unsure which way to go, confused and turned around. But even with the desperation of her pace, she knew Alaric was was coming for her.
Loping behind her like a patient and deadly predator waiting for her to stumble or misstep.
Branches tore at her dress and scratched her cheeks, the pins fell from her hair, and as fast as she fled, she could hear Alaric gaining behind her. His footfalls ever closer, his voice rough and cursing behind her, no longer soothing, but angered.
“Stop, Hanna-” he growled behind her as she reached a sheltered clearing, turning to see him mere feet away, a determined snarl on his face that made her sob with anguish.