Chapter 6

Like a patchwork blanket spread across the lush lawn, leaves of red and gold adorned the beautiful garden, taunting Annabelle with its dreamlike façade. She closed her eyes. Why could she not be outside lying amongst them, rather than watching them dampen with the gentle mist of a passing sun shower? Anything would be more satisfying than being imprisoned within the library, dusting while foully accompanied by Mrs. Melbourne's hypocrisy.

Annabelle snickered inwardly, unsure if Mrs. Melbourne sought to be comical on purpose. The only way Mrs. Melbourne would ever set foot in the library would be to drag her drunken husband off a terrified maidservant. Never, in all seven years of servitude, had Annabelle actually seen Mrs. Melbourne spend time in the library; certainly not to sit, and sure as hell not to read. Yet, there she sat by the fire with The Proper Etiquette of a Proper Woman opened across her lap.

Annabelle shook her head in disbelief. The only element missing that would turn Mrs. Melbourne's staged scene into an acclaimed performance would be Madeline sitting beside her mother with a copy of Shakespeare on her own lap.

Looking to the chair beside Mrs. Melbourne, Annabelle fought a gasp. Sitting atop the side table was 'A Midsummer's Dream', while conveniently draped upon the chair's armrest was a shawl clearly displaying Madeline's initials. Surely Mrs. Melbourne had thought her whole scene through to the last detail.

Annabelle turned from the orchestrated display, and closed her eyes once more, stifling a yawn. Sleep. How she ached for her bed, not that it would at all make a difference considering sleep would undoubtedly again refuse to come. Having spent the entire night replaying every feather light kiss, every whispered touch and moaned word; sleep was but a dream.

Mrs. Melbourne cleared her throat.

In frenzy, Annabelle cast her sights all around. Did someone knock while she was imprisoned by her thoughts? Was it Nathaniel? Eyeing Mrs. Melbourne, the old chit sat motionless; perfecting her performance. Annabelle eased. No one had knocked.

Recovering, Annabelle haled in a breath. Pressing a sweaty hand to her stomach, she wiped it against her light blue flowered skirt, gripping each fold. She needed to relax, but how? Lack of sleep did nothing to help her already altered nerves. Neither did the memory of the prior night. Lord, could anything be more fatally torturous yet equally divine than Nathaniel's kiss?

Biting her lip, Annabelle wrestled with her mind to forget the delicate feel of his lips, his firm and demanding hands on her waist. Intense heat overtaking her cheeks, Annabelle pressed her cool hands to her face. What would be the use in remembering? Whether he remembered or not, it would be Martha whom he held, Martha whom he caressed...Martha whom ran away in tears before he was able to fully claim her. Surfacing shamelessly, her wonton half who would have without further thought surrendered to Nathaniel's desires, uttered bitterly 

Coward...

Perhaps. And falling deeper into thought, Annabelle recalled her cow hearted escape the prior night. Being so overcome with emotion and lacking a conscience, her body took charge. Upon asking her to turn to him so their bodies could 'acquaint' themselves, Annabelle remembered reacting in fear and dashing from the room, abandoning Nathaniel before he could take her. But the fact remained that whether she ran or not, they shared an intimacy that she would always remember...but what about him?

Shaking her head, Annabelle groaned inwardly adding even more questions to her inventory of queries. Would Nathaniel remember? Surely the brandy she smelled in his breath would wage a war against any recollection. But if he did remember, would he remember kissing her? Would he remember how she trembled? Would he remember her running away?

She lowered her duster sharply. Why had she run away?

The man she loved with every fiber of her being came to her, begging for her, and she ran. Silently scoffing, she cursed her conscience and dismissed the futile questions. The answers weren't important anymore. Whether or not he remembered, and regardless of whether or not she ran, the detail remained that she would see him. That morning, after their singular and unplanned night, he would lay eyes on her once more, and her on him. Furthermore, they would have words. Whether good or bad, they would have words because a young child in need of a nurse guaranteed her of that much.

Forcing herself forward, she feathered the duster lightly over the elaborate trinkets. Mentally counting each swipe as a means to keep her trembling hands from knocking over something worth more than her existence, Annabelle lost count. Each swipe only sent her deeper into thought, the airy movement reminding her of Nathaniel lips on her bare back…

"You useless child!" Mrs. Melbourne's voice ripped through Annabelle's thoughts, sending her jumping back. Looking down, Annabelle hadn't noticed she unwittingly dusted Mrs. Melbourne's tea cup. Rising sharply to her feet, Mrs. Melbourne opened her mouth to inflict her normal barrage of insults, when a knock at the door silenced her.

Scowling with the ferociousness of a beast, Mrs. Melbourne smoothed down her black skirt, sat down and once more arranged the book on her lap. Clearing her throat, she pressed a hand to her chest; "Come in.”

She shot a warning glance at Annabelle over her shoulder and settled back. Annabelle froze, gripping the duster as if it were the only thing keeping her from fainting.

 The door opened.

"I was informed you wished to see me," Nathaniel said, his voice preceding him. Annabelle's heart plummeted as his cold voice pounded into her head. Its soft tenderness from the prior night was gone, replaced again by the distant arctic tone it possessed at the bakery. Lifting her eyes, all breath left her.

Dressed in a dark gray tail coat and matching gray vest, Nathaniel stood elegantly. His tanned trousers clung tightly to his muscular legs, tucked neatly into his black leather boots. The duster floated from Annabelle's numb hands. Could he really have looked anymore stunning?

Stepping into the room, the echoing of his boots on the wooden floor chiseled at her remaining defenses. They faded upon the crimson carpet where he stopped. Noticing her stare, his icy eyes drew to hers and instantly her heart pounded to a painful stop. She lowered her eyes and turned. Could it be he remembered? From beneath downcast eyes, Annabelle saw his curious gaze narrow, accompanied by joined brows.

Nathaniel cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to Mrs. Melbourne. "Is it common for simple servants to listen in on their master's private affairs as if it concerns them?" he quipped, shooting Annabelle a biting stare. Her breathing hitched. Not only did he not remember her, but he made it clear her presence was wholly unwanted if not offensive. 

Painfully, Annabelle curtsied weakly. "Pardon me, my Lord." Her voice wobbled as she struggled to straighten her knees back to normal. With eyes remaining on the floor, she made to leave.

"Foolish girl! Stay where you are," Mrs. Melbourne said, dropping her charade for a split second. "My lord, she is here with reason," she said sweetly, holding a hand out for Nathaniel. He took a step forward and gingerly held her hand, placing a soft kiss on its back. Annabelle's stomach swirled with jealousy. Oh how she could still feel those lips.

Mrs. Melbourne giggled, bringing the kissed hand to her heart.

Nathaniel straightened out uncomfortably. "I'm afraid I haven't much time before I am to meet your husband," he said, encouraging the conversation.

"Ah, yes, my dear husband barely just arrived. Seems you will see him before I will, but who can keep you men from your horses!" she chortled, while closing the book on her lap.

Looking up, Annabelle noticed Nathaniel slightly raise a curious brow. Trailing his eyes, she found him looking at the book Mrs. Melbourne supposedly read, which she held upside down. Pressing frail fingers to her mouth in hopes of muzzling a laugh, Annabelle caught Nathaniel's eyes meeting hers with an amused, yet fleeting smile. Gasping, Annabelle lowered her head to hide the rapid flush. Was she seeing things? Did they just share a smile?

Mrs. Melbourne placed the book down and waved her hand to Annabelle. "Step forward, girl," she summoned, but Annabelle remained still, captivated by the spell of Nathaniel's smile.

 "Do you hear me speaking?"

"Y-y-yes ma'am," Annabelle blurted, mandating her feet forward and curtsying once more.

Drawing her scornful eyes from Annabelle, Mrs. Melbourne turned back to Nathaniel. "Had I known you intended on bringing the...child," her lips pursed, "I would have made arrangements for the employment of a proper nanny. But under such circumstances, this is the young girl I spoke of yesterday. Of all my maidservants, I deem her the most qualified to watch over that dear boy of yours."

Nathaniel was quiet, which chipped at Annabelle's resolve. She wanted to tear from the room and run as far as she could on one breath, but she couldn't even breathe.

"Is that so?" he asked finally, though Annabelle could gather nothing from his blank reply.

"Why, yes. She is a suitable enough," Mrs. Melbourne assured, motioning for Nathaniel to sit beside her. "Though I cannot see why you won't simply enroll the boy in a fine institution. All my children were schooled superbly in the finest schools in our province. With your status, I don't see any school in all of England refusing the child regardless of his mother's...prior situation." Mrs. Melbourne reached cowardly for her tea cup. Annabelle was shocked and noting Nathaniel's clenched jaw, he too seemed stung. How dare she bring up Logan's mother less than favorable past so crassly?

Seeing Mrs. Melbourne take a sip from her tea, Annabelle thought to remind her of her earlier dusting incident, but dismissed the thought. Mrs. Melbourne deserved a bit of dust in her mouth. It might actually shut her up.

Mrs. Melbourne continued. "He is just a child. I'm sure the boy will be happy wherever you deposit him—"

"Logan," Nathaniel flatly affirmed. "His name is Logan, and I beg your pardon, but I do not wish to discuss nor appreciate any comments about his mother's prior 'positions'.”

Annabelle gulped deeply. Could it be Nathaniel was angry at Mrs. Melbourne for mentioning the woman's position as a mistress? Surely he couldn't have had feelings for her. Could he?

"Nor do I want 'deposit' my son miles away from me where I am unable to personally view his progress," he added.

Annabelle scoffed, but quickly covered it with a light cough. Since when did he care for his son's progress? Did he care for the months he spent away from Logan, leaving him in the care of his mother and her 'position'?

"Forgive me, my Lord, that was none of my business." And after taking a moment, she said, "But nonetheless our dear girl here will cater to his every need. She's been with us for years. Almost family really," she laughed lightly. Almost family? Annabelle could have screamed. Of course Mrs. Melbourne didn't want Nathaniel knowing how cruel they treated one of their own blood. But Annabelle decided perhaps it was better that way.

Mrs. Melbourne added, "Madeline absolutely adores her. Isn't that so, girl? And Madeline will of course spend time with the—with Logan as well," Mrs. Melbourne offered as a dismissive afterthought.

'The devil she will' Annabelle thought, but in catching sight of Mrs. Melbourne's widened eyes and Nathaniel's equally amused stare she realized in wholehearted error, she had spoken her thought.

Rising sharply and unable to maintain her charade, Mrs. Melbourne snorted bitterly. "You impertinent, ungrateful thing! After everything I've done for you and this is how you repay me? You...You...useless, good for nothing, disrespectful girl—"

"Yet," Nathaniel injected, "you appoint her to watch over my only child."

Annabelle's eyes widened. It was Nathaniel! Her Nathaniel. Only he could double back a person's comment so effortlessly. He’d always been quick witted and as much as it irked her in her youth, it made her heart flutter there before him. Annabelle bit her lip, stepping back. Surely she would pay for her slip of words, but for the moment she chose to enjoy Mrs. Melbourne's struggle for a recovery.

Colored, Mrs. Melbourne clenched her chest, "Forgive me my lord—” 

"What is your name, girl?" Nathaniel asked, interrupting Mrs. Melbourne's apology.

Cut off, Mrs. Melbourne remained silent, but her stern focus remained on Annabelle who in turn froze. How could she respond when her mind was a muddle and her heart thundered so loud she could barely make out his question?

Nathaniel rose. "Speak, girl. What is your name?"

"M...m..." she stammered when the door burst open. 

"Martha!" Logan exclaimed, running at Annabelle's knees. He wrapped his arms tightly about her nearly knocking her off balance. 

His face brightened. "Father, look! It's Martha!"

Annabelle went cold. So far it seemed Nathaniel hadn't the slightest remembrance of the secret liaison from the previous night, but what if Logan mentioned something about her being in his room that night? Annabelle prayed he wouldn't mention it.

"Do you remember her father?" Logan pressed. An awkward and equally loaded silence settled within the room. With Mrs. Melbourne looking on scornfully, Nathaniel's bemused glance narrowed then awareness seemed to surface.

"Of course....Martha," he said plainly. Annabelle's breathing hitched. He must've known. Why else would his tone have been so....unreadable? Her prayers doubled.

"I want to go back to the gardens, father!" Logan begged, turning his blue eyes to Annabelle. "Please, Martha, can you take me to the gardens like last ni—"

"Certainly!" Annabelle burst out, cutting him off before he gave her away. Eyes downcast, heat spread about her cheeks-that was entirely too close.

With a slight tenderness of which Annabelle could remember, Nathaniel regarded his son. "Logan, why don't you go on ahead, and Martha will meet you in the gardens shortly."

Logan turned to Annabelle with pleading eyes.

 Smoothing down his hair, Annabelle knelt beside him; her back toward Nathaniel, "Listen to your father sweetheart," she whispered, offering him a tender smile. "I will join you sooner than you can find your first frog!"

Beaming, Logan nodded innocently, running to the almost invisible servant standing by the door. Together they exited.

Before the door could properly close, Mrs. Melbourne's wrathful stare fell upon Annabelle. "So I take it you have met his lordship? I had no idea you'd met before..." Each word dripped with indignation. "I was told you were feeling a bit ill last night, Martha. When on earth did you find the time to meet his lordship?"

"I—"Annabelle began. 

"We met at the bakery in town yesterday," Nathaniel offered without the slightest hesitancy. Annabelle's shut her eyes. She could have hit him, title or no title.

"Ah." Mrs. Melbourne's lips twisted. "The bakery, how delightful."

Annabelle swallowed deeply. Surely she would be paying for that as well.

 "....but as we were speaking before our interruption," Mrs. Melbourne carried on, "I suppose you will be needing another nurse seeing as this one will not do with her loose mouth.”

"That would be for me to decide," Nathaniel quipped, turning sharply to Mrs. Melbourne. "I feel she has all the recommendation needed. My son is taken by her. And while I may not be the greatest of fathers, I can assure you I am to satisfy his most basic desires, and he desires to have Martha as his nurse.”

Nathaniel turned to Annabelle whose face remained downcast, "My son is very taken by you, Martha," he said, a gentleness afflicting his voice. " I hope you will accept the position requested of you." 

Shocked, her eyes half lifted in disbelief. Was he really asking her? Not ordering, but asking her? Wasn't he supposed to be rude and unsociable, a complete tyrant? Yet he defended her in sorts, smiled at her and was asking her to be his son's nurse? Heaven help her. She needed to hate him! Needed to despise him! But before she could blink, Annabelle realize her head was nodding.

"Wonderful. We will be staying a week—" he began dictating, but Annabelle could hardly hear a word through her thundering heart. Swallowing deeply, she forced herself to focus.

He went on, "You will find Logan to have the same correctible behavior found in any young and naive boy his age, but I trust you will rule him with a firm hand."

Annabelle's eyes shot up, but she quickly lowered them. A firm hand? He was a boy not some animal!

"And if there is anything you feel unable to handle, you can tell me and I will correct the matter. Thank you very much Martha."

Annabelle closed her eyes as the room spun. He was thanking her too. Why? He was supposed to be rude, and cold, and....not polite! How could hate possibly cultivate when he treated her like...like a human being?

"Will that be all Mrs. Melbourne?"

Not waiting for her response, he walked to the door. Annabelle's whole body cried out in protest. Once he was gone, she would be left alone to deal with Mrs. Melbourne's wrath. After everything she had caused with her slip of words, Annabelle was sure she would be paying a hefty price. 

Nodding to both women, Nathaniel opened the door. "Very well, good day." He bowed slightly, then the gentle closing of the door whispered through the room.

Silence. 

Like calm before a storm, Mrs. Melbourne sat in absolute quiet. The birds chirping outside offered no consolation, neither did the crackling fire. The stillness was consuming. Rising slowly with a misplaced smile and dark, seedy eyes, Mrs. Melbourne turned to Annabelle; an offended amusement contorting her face.

"Bakery?" she asked though Annabelle knew it not to be a question. "You have not only found spare time, but have undoubtedly been stealing to afford the bakery."

Annabelle shook her head. "There was no spare time ma'am, I was there because—"

Her words instantly cut off by a thunderous slap across her face that sent her slamming to the floor. Suddenly her ribs erupted into a consuming pain as Mrs. Melbourne kicked her. Cradling her stinging cheek, Annabelle glared up to find Mrs. Melbourne raising her hand once more. Preparing for the next assault, Annabelle stiffened, shutting her eyes tightly when the door burst open.

"My Lord!"

Blanched, Mrs. Melbourne lowered her hand instantly to the hollow of her throat. Blinking open, Annabelle found Nathaniel standing at the door, undeniable fury burning in his eyes.