Chapter Thirteen #2
Annalise had not left her quarters at Dutton Hall for two days. When her brother knocked on the door, she had the maid tell him that she was suffering from a headache. “Please give her this,” Alexander said softly. “Tell her I offer my regrets.”
After he walked away, the maid said, “The master wishes you to have this, my lady.”
“Place it in the fire, Sarah. I have no use for it. I have already heard his lordship’s excuses. I have no need to read them also,” Annalise instructed.
“The master would be angry with me, my lady,” the girl said nervously.
“Then place it on the table or on the mantel or toss it out the window. I shall not ask which.”
“Might I bring you anything, my lady?”
Annalise turned over in the bed and placed a pillow over her face in despair. “A family who cares about me.”
Annalise’s anger arrived two days after her brother’s departure. She was quite exhausted by the unknown and by being left behind. “I would like to go to the nearest lending library and, later, to call upon Lady Orson. Do you know the directions of each, Sarah?”
“Yes, my lady. A library is less than half a mile along the boulevard,” the girl reported.
“You will accompany me,” Annalise instructed. In reality, she had no desire to leave the house or to read, but she was exhausted by the idea of continuing to be the victim. She required an excuse to escape these four walls.
“Yes, my lady. Should I assist you in dressing?”
“The dark-green walking dress, I think.” Annalise approved of the cut of the dress, and she had appreciated Lady Orson’s eye for style and color.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Then we should depart so we may return in time for the midday meal,” she assured.
Annalise liked the idea of setting her steps, though small, they were a means to claim a bit of independence.
The idea of knowing her own home had grown stronger.
She must first learn her way about London and then she could set her plans in motion.
With the maid’s quick absence to retrieve the proper dress, Annalise sat on the bench at her mirror to take down her hair.
Perhaps later, she thought, I should write to my grandmother and seek permission to call upon her.
I do not require Marksman to introduce me.
She is my mother’s mother, and I am said to favor both Lady Madelyn Dutton and Mrs. Alma Smithfield.
Surely, she will recognize me when I present myself to her.
Her plans set, Annalise departed the house three quarters of an hour later.
There was a bit of excitement in her step, for, before she had departed, she had known pleasure in her appearance in the long mirror in her quarters.
It is true, she thought. A woman does feel prettier in new clothes.
She knew she would never be as beautiful as Lady Emma Orson nor as womanly shaped as Lady Theodora, but she thought herself pretty enough to know Lord Beaufort’s kiss, and that said something special existed about her.
It was a beautiful day, and, despite a small dose of her earlier doldrums following her about, she nodded her greetings to several couples who walked along the streets, but not to any of the young gentlemen or ladies, even though she recognized a few from the Beleward ball.
The lending library was not as large as she had expected, but it held an excellent selection of books for young ladies. “May I assist you, miss?” the gentleman behind the counter asked.
Annalise smiled and slipped a calling card across the highly polished surface of the counter.
“I am Lady Annalise Dutton, sister to Lord Marksman. I asked his lordship’s man of business to provide me a few signed cards while my own are being printed.
I hope this is acceptable until the earl returns from his marriage journey. ”
The clerk looked her up and down and then examined the card she had presented him before saying, “It was kind of you to know so much trouble, my lady. I have heard of your return to his lordship’s household. Felicitations for his recent marriage.”
Annalise did not wish to consider how Lady Theodora had “managed” Alexander, but she smiled and nodded her agreement. She handed off the books to the maid and said, “Come along, Sarah. We are to call upon Lady Orson.”
Feeling proud of the small steps she had taken on this day in naming her freedom, Annalise was ahead of the maid searching for Lady Emma’s house when a man and woman stepped before her, and Annalise stumbled to a halt with a gasp.
“Good day, my lady,” Mrs. Sable said in evilly sweet tones. “We thought to provide you transportation home, did we not, Mr. Stark?”
“We did, Mrs. Sable,” Moreau’s long-time coachman and assistant said with a toothy grin. “I’ll drive you there myself, my lady.”
Annalise glanced down to the Queen Anne pistol Mrs. Sable had pointed at Annalise’s middle. “Permit me to send the maid home,” she said with as much calm as she could muster. “The girl plays no role in this matter.”
Mrs. Sable eyed the maid with contempt, while Mr. Stark said, “The coach awaits, my lady.”
Annalise turned quickly to say, “Marjory,” she noted the girl’s face screwed up in confusion. “I decided I would have Mr. Stark drive me to Marksman Hall instead. Please take the books home for me, Marjory.”
The maid looked at Annalise oddly, but she nodded her agreement.
Annalise turned to say, “Lead on, Mr. Stark.” She wondered if either her uncle or her cousin had sent Stark to exact revenge against her, and she worried on how she would escape. The coach was but a half street away.
When they reached it, Mrs. Sable ordered her inside. “You first, my lady. Imagine going from a maid-of-all-works to the daughter of an earl with a snap of your fingers.”
Annalise climbed into the coach with a backwards glance to where Sarah had climbed the steps to Orson Hall. The girl was smarter than Annalise could have hoped.
Mrs. Sable climbed in beside her and again pressed the gun into Annalise’s side.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Where else? Amgen House. The government has thoroughly searched it and paid Amgen his rents for a year. By the time they think to look there, your body shall be thoroughly rotted. Surprise!” A cackle spoke of the woman’s purpose and her evident madness.
“A very appropriate gift to Lord Duncan and his sons.”
Annalise now wished she had spent more time exploring London proper, for she had no idea where the coach was headed, but it was assuredly not to Amgen House.
She knew where Amgen House was in relation to her brother’s house, and the coach was headed in the opposite direction.
“How did you come to assist Mr. Stark?” she asked in a submissive tone, for she knew something of Mrs. Sable’s authoritative nature.
“Mr. Stark assists me,” the woman replied with a bit of hardness, “not the other way around.”
“I understand you have known my uncle for some time,” Annalise suggested.
Mrs. Sable snarled her contempt. “I met Moran before he set himself the mission of claiming your mother—thought himself worthy of those of the ruling class. Likes to style himself as a lord. Men are foolish in that manner. Every lord I have encountered was worthless as a worm on a stick and hanging over a fire in hopes of feeding a starving family.”
Outside, the scenery had changed from fine houses to more shops and impressive buildings.
“Whitehall,” Mrs. Sable said with a snarl, which Annalise did not understand the woman’s contempt, but it was obvious Amgen House was not their destination.
Soon they would be outside the city, and then what would become of her?
Likely her body would be dumped into the Thames or one of its tributaries, and no one would ever know her fate.
If she were to escape, it would be necessary to do so sooner, rather than later.
Whatever she did, she would likely know injury.
“Is that…?” she began, but Mrs. Sable jabbed her again with the gun’s short barrel. Annalise remembered that Lady Emma had once commented on how one could recognize the Lyon’s Den, for it was painted a light blue. Now or never! Annalise thought.
“Nothing foolish, my lady,” her captor growled, but Annalise did not listen.
She spun as best she could in the tight quarters to elbow Mrs. Sable across the throat and reached for the door latch.
Mrs. Sable was clawing at Annalise’s arm, but she managed to shove the woman backwards, as Mr. Stark pulled up hard on the reins.
A pang of pain slammed through her ankle as she landed on the bricked street, while a shot rang out from somewhere behind her.
A burning flared to life along her side as she stumbled and collapsed on the bricks before the blue house. It was not what she expected.
Several men were shouting as her fingernails dug into the dirt between the bricks, and she attempted to rise. She could hear Mr. Stark calling to the horses to respond and the sound of the carriage rolling away, as three men surrounded her. One of them gently rolled her to her back.
“We have you, miss,” he assured. “Theseus, fetch Mr. Rheem. Egeus, find something on which we can support her and inform the mistress of what has occurred.” He claimed his handkerchief to press against her side. “Can you tell me your name, miss, so I might have someone fetch your kin?”
“Lady… Anna…” she began, but the sky above her head turned dark as she succumbed to her fears and the pain.