Trust Me (37 page)

“But you have never
been with child before, have you?”

“No, I have not.”

“Then how would you
know?”

“Please, I wish you
would leave. And you may tell my lord that it was in very bad taste of him to
send you here to-to…
harry
me like this.”

“Well, my lady, I
didn’t mean to harry you.”

“Jon should not have
sent you.”

Rebecca’s shoulders
sagged. “He did not send me.”

“Really?”

“Toby and I were
talking. Lord Ruel asked him to post a letter for you, but Toby suggested I
come here in person and have a look and see if you were disposed to the idea of
returning to Lloyd House.”

Anne felt her brows
shoot upwards. “Toby?”

“He is very worried
about Lord Ruel, especially since the dowager’s unexpected decline. He thinks
Lord Ruel would even have sent him in the carriage with a message for you to return,
but that Lord Ruel would not cause you to have to endure the ride to London.”

Rebecca opened her
reticule and handed Anne a letter.

Anne took it, feeling
numb on the inside. She considered what a bold thing it truly had been for
Rebecca Howland to have come here today. Brash, impudent, yes, that too. But
also exceedingly brave.

Why, Anne could have
had her tossed out. Had the dogs set on her. Or worse. Anne was wealthy,
powerful and had reason to feel threatened and jealous of this commoner. With
enough money spent, Anne could have had her brought up on false charges and
thrown into gaol to rot.

Mrs Howland had done
it for Jon.

She must
love
Jon to have taken such a risk.

What a stark contrast
between Anne and Rebecca Howland, a woman who had stood in the midst of battle
and its aftermath with Jon. Unflinchingly.

Shouldn’t Jon have
held such a woman in the highest regard?

Shouldn’t Mrs Howland
have been the one he loved?

“I’ll be going on my
way now,” Mrs Howland said.

Anne was barely aware
of
 
her leaving.

Jon would have sent
for Anne?

Toby believed this?

But how ridiculous.
Toby did not know how things stood between her and Jon.

She went to her
chamber and opened the letter.

It contained a factual
account of the dowager’s sudden collapse in the hall. Her weakness and
difficulty breathing. The sound of fluid in her lungs that night. A high fever.
Delirium.

But did Anne imagine
a certain poignancy to… what? Jon’s word choices? His syntax?

Was she reading
something that wasn’t there?

Of course she was!

This missive was no
more intimate than a routine communication Jon would have sent to a senior
officer in the Dragoons.

She laid the letter
down.

Jon’s grandmother was
the nearest thing to a mother he had left. Anne would have to write a reply, a
letter of sympathy. Heaviness entered her heart. Oh, but she was no good at
such things.

And this was not a
letter to just anyone. It was a letter to the man she loved above anyone else
in this world.

A man who had once
loved her, before she’d been forced to kill that love.

****

Her chamber door came
open.

She jerked her head
off the pillow and, through sleepy eyes, watched Sebastian enter her chamber.

As though he had
knocked and she had bid him welcome.

But she hadn’t.

She sat in the bed
and pushed her hair off her face.

He walked to her bed.

And dropped a letter
on her coverlet. Anne stared at her own handwriting, the address of Lloyd
House. It was the letter to Jon that she’d sent a servant to post for her
before she had lain down for a nap.

“What?” This was all
her sleep-befuddled mind could manage.

Sebastian’s refined
features twisted into a concerned frown. He sat on her bed.

Her heart began to
beat faster.

He dared sit on her
bed?

“Sebastian! I demand
that you have a servant take that letter right back to-to be posted,
immediately.”

He took her hand.

She tried to withdraw
it.

He wouldn’t let her.
“I can’t do that. I am so sorry, Anne.”

She pointed to the
paper and furiously tapped it. “Immediately!”

He shook his head. “I
can’t.”

“What the devil do
you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t, because I
believe he is the cause of your troubles. It hasn’t escaped my notice, how he
bullies you. I have seen fear on your face when he approaches. I know that he
has physically punished you. You were raised so gently. So sheltered. And then
the horrific accident with your first husband. I know what a strain marriage to
brutal, uncultured man like Ruel must be on your fragile nerves.”

Anne could barely
breathe for the outrage.

“He is not brutal.”

“Anne, I happen to
know he has laid marks upon your person, such as with a whip or a crop or God
knows what.”

“How would you
possibly know if he did or did not do such a thing?”

“Your maid, Nellie.”

Anne felt the blood
drain from her face.

Nellie.

Loyal Nellie. Telling
tales to Sebastian.

“She saw you in the
bath. And then when you started hiding your body from her with a bathing shift
or asking to be alone, she came after you slept and examined you by moonlight
from the window.”

Anne’s heart froze.
Her blood froze. Those were her and Jon’s private secrets.

Joyful secrets.

Nellie had no right
to pry where she wasn’t uninvited. She had violated Anne’s privacy and, worse,
shared her illicit findings with another.

 
Jon had been right about Nellie. And Anne had
been wrong, very wrong. She’d let her own desire to choose, to have a say,
blind her.
 
She’d trusted Nellie.

He’d
been right.

Nellie was not her
mother. Not her sister. Nellie was a servant.

And she had failed in
her first duty, which was to be unquestionably loyal to her lady.

It was an inexcusable
betrayal.

Sebastian patted her
hand. “I think if you spend a few months here, away from his influence, you
will come to see that life is better for you apart from him. Only then can I
allow you to contact him.”

Her mouth fell open
and she raised her brows. “Allow me? You think you can tell me when and if I
can send a letter to my own husband?”

Sebastian smiled
placidly, enraging her all the more. He stood. “I shall let you rest now.”

He walked to her door
and exited.

Then she watched and
listened in horror as the key turned in the lock!

“Sebastian!” she
cried and jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She grasped the door handle
and rattled it hard. It wouldn’t budge. “Sebastian!”

She shouted for him
to return, for him to open the damned door. Then her throat grew raw and she
felt somewhat sick to her stomach and had to cease.

For some time, she
stood looking out the window at the meadow.

In shock.

In disbelief.

A supper tray was
brought to her and the door was re-locked after the servant left. She drank the
claret and left the food. Sudden, overpowering sleepiness came upon her.

She’d been drugged.

The terrible truth
dawned on her. This was no waking nightmare.

She was being held
against her will. She collapsed on the bed.

****

Anne awoke. How many
times had she awakened then fallen back into a drugged sleep? She did not know.
Indeed, she had no idea how many days had passed since Sebastian’s first
intrusion of her private rooms. She crawled from the bed and stumbled to the
chamber pot.

When she was done,
she glanced back at the bed and noticed a paper scrap laying halfway under the
bed. She thrust her nightdress down her knees and stood. She staggered back to
the bed, bent and picked up the paper. Words lay scrawled across it, slanting
sideways. Sleepily, she blinked to clear the remaining blurriness from her
vision.

I am in hell. If
you would only come home to me, I would forgive everything with Saxby.

Those words dragged
her up from the murky depths of sleepiness.

It was obviously
hastily penned. A scrawl, yes. But unmistakably Jon’s hand.

It must have fallen
out of the letter when she had read it the other day, here on her bed.

Two sentences.

A world of meaning.

It was not too late.

He needed her. He
must, or he would never have said that. Would never have asked her to come
home.

He needed
her
.

No one had ever
needed her.

Urgency beat through
her. Jon, oh, Jon. She must go to him. Immediately.

Or die trying.

The thought echoed in
her mind. Yes, yes, if Jon really needed her that badly, really still wanted
her despite her madness, she would fight, kick, claw—whatever it took to get
herself out of here and back to his side.

She ran to the door.
She leant against it, overwhelmed by the swirl of emotions seething within her.

“Anne is resting
now.” Saxby’s calm voice carried to her, sounding as though it came from a
distance.

She tried the door.
It was open and why not? She’d been drugged for days. She poked her head out
into the corridor. It was empty.

“What are you doing?”

Anne glanced in the
direction of the sultry feminine voice.

Maria shook her head.
“Back to bed with you.”

“You…” Anne stared at
Maria. Of course she would be here.

Maria took her by the
shoulders and gave her a push back into the chamber.

With everything
inside herself, Anne resisted.

“Fiona!” Maria called
over her shoulder.

The servant came
running, her white cap flopping.

Together the two
women pushed Anne back into the bedchamber.

They put her on the
bed. Her mouth was pried open and more opiate forced upon her.

Chapter Fourteen

 
“You simply are not suited to be his wife or
the mother of his children. You needn’t fear, Anne. Jon and I will always care
for you. If you become better, you can resume your former position as Jon’s
mistress.” Maria caressed her cheek. “I would never deny you the comfort of
each other.”

Anne backed away from
the woman’s touch. Maria tried to follow. Anne tried to protest but it came out
as a wail. She leapt from her bed, went to the door and flung it open. She ran
down the stairs and to the front door. A footman caught her.

She screamed her
frustration. Her anger.

“Anne!”

She looked up.

Saxby was hurrying
down the stairs in his shirtsleeves. Bright moonlight made his hair glow like an
unholy purple-red halo.

She resumed her
struggle against the footman’s hold, becoming like a wild thing, bending and
biting his hand. Tasting coppery blood.

She gagged.

The footman cried out
and she kicked at his shin with all her might.

He released her.

She ran for the door,
flung it open and escaped into the darkness.

The frigid night air
assaulted her through her nightdress, the front steps were cold under her bare
feet. She kept running and running, down the drive, past the seemingly endless
line of trees. Her heart thundered in her ears. Her lungs ached and a stitch
burned in her side. Still she kept lifting her legs and running and running.

Her name echoed on
the wind.

She didn’t turn to
look, she kept going. The ground pounded beneath her feet, an endless barrage
of pebbles cut into her soles.

“Anne!”

This time she glanced
back.

A group of men
pursued her. Several footmen, some in their livery, some in nightclothes, and
Saxby himself, with his long, lanky legs, in the lead.

She tried to run
faster, but she was quickly losing energy.

An arm locked about
her waist, long and surprisingly strong. She found herself pulled back against
a hard, rangy body. The smell of masculine sweat and a soapy, lemony scent
filled her nostrils.

Saxby pressed his
lips to the top of her head. “Oh my darling, my darling.”

“Let me go! Let me
go!” She howled in frustration and anger.

Saxby tightened his
hold. “Shh, shh, my beauty. Don’t fight me. I am doing what is best for you.”

A footman approached.
Saxby waved him away fiercely. “All of you go back to the house.”

The footmen hastened
to obey, grouping together and talking to each other as they began the walk
back to the house.

Anne put her hands to
Saxby’s chest and shoved.

Saxby held her fast.
“No, no. Trust me, I shall keep you safe, from yourself and from him.”

He lifted her into
his arms and began following the footmen back to the house.

She sagged with
defeat.

Saxby carried her
back to the bedchamber.

****

Anne lay in the bed, struggling
to stay awake. She had refused to drink the drugged wine earlier. Sebastian and
Maria had forced her. She had slept for a time but the sounds of Maria and
Cherry’s voices awoke her.

“You don’t need her.”
Cherry sounded for all the world like a jealous lover.

Maria said nothing.

Cherry sighed. “You
have me. You have always, will always have me.”

“I grow weary of your
constant petulance since William died.”

“What about her? She
will always have eyes for no one but Jon.”

“Yes, but Jon will
not always have eyes for only her. He grows bored so easily. You know that
better than anyone. Her pride won’t stand for that.”

“When he breaks her
heart, perhaps she shall be more amenable.”

“I don’t think she’s
like that, Maria. I think you’re going to be vastly disappointed. For one
thing, she’s cold.”

“She’s not cold.”

“William told me
she’s cold as a stone. He was a genius at lovemaking and he couldn’t rouse her.
Not at all.”

“I saw her with Ruel,
at Eastwood Place.”

Cherry’s face flushed
red and the flesh stretched tight as though with sudden rage. “You watched him
take her?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You-you bedded with
her?”

“It was not…
completed.”

“Why not? You
certainly seem to adore her.”

“He would not allow
it.”

Cherry looked stunned
for a moment and then she laughed softly. “Well, well.”

“He invited me into
their bed and he dismissed me as though I were no more than a servant from
below stairs.” Maria’s voice quavered with anger. Then she turned back to Anne
and her gaze grew softer. “But no, she’s not cold. Not in the least.”

“If you bed with her,
I shall never be yours again.” Cherry’s tone was flat with finality. “I will
never play with another man for your pleasure.”

Maria ignored her and
reached to tuck the coverlet more closely beneath Anne’s chin. “We will care
for Anne, Jon and I.”

“It doesn’t sound as
though he wants to share, Maria.”

“He will come to see
reason. He always does.”

“Well, I am bored
with things here in the country. Come morning, I shall go back to London.”

“Have a pleasant journey.”
Maria’s voice was icy, brittle.

“You know we’ll never
be friends again, do you not?”

Maria nodded.

“Well then.” Cherry
got up, and in a crisp rustle of skirts, she left, closing the door behind her
with a resounding slam.

“Please don’t give me
any of the opiate,” Anne pleaded. “It is not necessary. I shall be good.”

Maria paused, looking
uncertain.

Anne pointed to the
red mark on her cheek. “I’ve learnt my lesson.”

She tried her best to
sound contrite, humbled.

Maria compressed her
lips.

“I shall be good,
very good.”

“You must promise to
sleep. Sebastian will have my head if you… if anything happens.”

What had Saxby
promised Maria to make her so willing to obey his every dictate? Did he intend
to support Jon’s petition for divorce?

Of course he did.

Anne stared at the
key hanging from Maria’s neck. She had to play her role carefully. She had to
be convincing.

“Don’t leave me. I am
afraid to be in this chamber alone. If you stay, I shall be very good.”

Maria’s look softened
then she sat on the bed, close to Anne. “You’re really that lonely?”

“Just lay with me and
sleep.”

The older woman’s
face took on a pained expression, almost like a wince.

Anne recognized it as
longing.

Maria leant closer.
“I don’t know who I am more envious of. You, for stealing Jon’s title away from
me.” She smoothed Anne’s hair back. “Or him, for possessing your beauty.” Maria
sighed. “But I don’t think he’s of a mind to share you. At least not yet.”

“Isn’t every woman
entitled to her secret life?”

A slow, sensual smile
spread over Maria’s full lips. “Indeed she is.”

Anne’s gaze fell upon
the keys laying in the crevasse between Maria’s breasts. All she must do was
convince the other woman to lay back and relax, to fall asleep. But could she
manage to lift that key without waking her? Anxiety trembled through her and
her mouth dried. Well, she had to try.

She glanced up.

Maria’s pupils were
enlarged, making her pale grey eyes appear dark, smoky. Anne reached out and
traced her fingertips slowly over the older woman’s cheek.

She watched a shiver
race through Maria’s body.

“Your touch is
tender. What a quiet, beautiful person you are,” Maria said.

“Just lay with me and
sleep.” She swept her fingers over Maria’s forehead and downward.

Maria closed her
eyes.

****

Anne took one last
glance at Maria’s sleeping form in the bed. Her heart pounded so hard, she
feared it would awaken the older woman. She took Maria’s shoes, for Anne’s own
had been taken from her.

They were slightly
too long. But she stuffed some crumpled paper into them and they fitted her
better.

She approached the
door. Beneath the Turkish carpet, a board creaked. The sound was terribly loud
in the silence of the night. Maria’s breathing caught. Anne sucked in her
breath and dizziness swept over her. She held herself very still. The other
woman’s breathing returned to normal.

She crept across the
chamber, her heart in her throat with each step. The expanse of swirling,
colourful carpet seemed endless.

Finally, she reached
the door. She eased it open and then she was out in the corridor.

What now? What if she
was found? They might restrain her this time.

Well, then, she’d
better not let herself get caught!

Making a last moment
decision, she pulled another nightdress over the one she already wore and then
she crept through the darkened house. Each floorboard that creaked under her
step sent a new chill of fear through her. Here and there, moonlight filtered
through curtains. She reached the servants’ back stairs. A collection of cloaks
hung on the pegs, as many pairs of rough-looking overshoes were lined up on the
floor. .

 
Candlelight suddenly flooded the small space.

“Anne.” Saxby’s voice
seemed unnaturally loud.

Her heart stopped.
She caught her breath.

He set his candle
upon a table. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She stood there, her
whole body cringing as though she could shrink up and hide within herself. She
could scarcely breathe. She placed her hand to her throat.

He approached her and
placed his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t you know, that I will not let you go?
Do you really want me to have to restrain you?”

She shook her head.

“I would do it only
out of concern for what is best for you.”

A flash of
inspiration came. She reached out. He watched her with a wary expression. She
touched his cheek and willed her expression to be gentle. Fond. Maybe if she
got him outside, she could get away from him.

“Why would you do
this, Anne? Why would you seek to hurt me by betraying my trust like this? I
ought to have restrained you earlier.”

She shook her head
quickly, frantically. She turned her head slightly and looked outside. And then
she put her hand to her head, as though she were indicating faintness.

He paused a moment.
“Is it that you’d like some fresh air?”

She smiled broadly
and nodded.

“All right then,
Anne, but this is the servants’ entrance. Come, we’ll go out to the gardens.”
He frowned. “But you’ll need your wrap. It is cold out.”

She shook her head
and pulled on his hand, leading him to the door.

“So impatient.” He
chided. “But I insist on a wrap.”

He turned away from
her and bent down to retrieve the candle from the table.

From the darkness
behind him, a shadow arose. Gold glinted, arcing downwards.

A sickening dull thud
resounded in the small space.

The horse’s hoof
striking William…

Her eyes glazed.

The clang of the
something heavy hitting the floor startled her from her thoughts. Acid rose up
into her throat, pooling up faster than she could swallow. A retch convulsed
her, forcing her to bend forwards. Her body convulsively ejected the contents
of her stomach. She remained helpless as wave after wave hit her.

It passed. Weakly,
slowly, she straightened herself to a standing position.

Saxby lay sprawled
face-down on the floor.

Oh God, was he…

But how…what had
happened?

She caught sight of a
heavy, ornate brass candelabra on the floor. Someone had struck Saxby in the
head.

But who?

The clatter of
footsteps sounded on the stairs.

She looked up,
lamplight shone down. Servants were coming. The noise had roused them. Her
heart pounded harder than ever. She cried out and then made a dash to the door.
She yanked one of the servants cloaks off the peg, jerked the door open and
fled into the night.

****

Anne held onto the
frame of the stall. Splinters prickled her bare hands and the cold, dampness
bled through her nightclothes as she stared at the mare. Moonlight from the
open stable door shone on the animal’s sorrel coat and glinted in the liquid
brown eye.