Confessions...
Geoffrey walked her once again to the park, making quiet conversation. He enjoyed her expressions as they watched the squirrels play in the trees, and admired the blossoms so abundant on the cherry trees. He described Pembroke, telling her about Shenandoah Valley, and asked questions about her childhood.
“I grew up here,” she said.
“You were happy here?”
“Very. Until my father died.”
His eyes flickered over her face. “Tell me about him.”
She looked away. “I suppose all little girls idolize their fathers. I certainly did.” Her voice was wistful. “He was a wonderful man. He delighted in making me smile. All girls should have fathers as wonderful as mine.”
“How old were you when he died?”
“I was nine. I missed him terribly.”
“And your mother re-married?” He was very aware of the change in her expression, and her voice, when she spoke.
“When I was eleven. My step-father managed to go through the family fortune in a very short time.”
“You didn’t care for him,” he said, looking down at her small hand, clasped in his.
“My mother loved him,” was all she said.
“Answer my question, Angel. Why did you not care for him?”
Her teeth troubled her lower lip anxiously. “I… barely know you, sir.”
“If we are considering spending the rest of our lives together, Angel, you must learn to be candid with me. As I shall be with you.”
She blinked, but a moment later, continued, scowling. “My mother adored him. And he took her heart and her soul and threw them back in her face. All he wanted was her money. I hated what he did to her. He broke her heart and left her with almost nothing.”
“You answer my questions, but not completely. I’m asking about you, Angel. What about you?” He refused to take his eyes from her face.
She shook her head. “I watched him gamble and drink away the precious things we had, to pay gambling debts. He sold my beautiful piano. He tried to sell Pitney, but my mother stepped in and refused to let him take away my horse. She threatened to divorce him.” She looked up, unashamed, into his eyes.
“How did he treat you? Be warned, Angel. I shall not let you get by without answering me.”
She broke her gaze away. “He was a beast, and I hated him.”
He led her off the walk and to an isolated bench.
“Did he abuse you?” He asked, abruptly.
She blinked, trying to send her gaze anywhere but to his eyes. “Yes.” The long silence was deafening, and finally she continued. “At first it was occasionally. Then it became daily. When my mother tried to intervene, he turned on her.” There was a brief sense of desperation in her voice. A moment later, she said, only. “I-I can’t…” She trailed off.
This time he didn’t press her. “But he’s dead now.”
“Yes, sir. Killed in a duel when he failed to pay gambling debts. My mother was devastated. She never recovered.” With vehemence, she squared her shoulders and looked up into his face. “But I wasn’t. Perhaps that makes me terrible, but there it is.”
He spoke gently this time. “It doesn’t make you terrible, Angel.” He put an arm about her shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze before standing to his feet and guiding her up with him. His hands were on her shoulders. “There is a difference, Angel, between a loving spanking given for correction, and beating an innocent child just because one feels like it. If ever the occasion arises that you require discipline, you will most likely find it extremely mild, compared to what you’ve been subjected to.”
Angel froze. Her eyes were large and fearful, and she couldn’t seem to make herself speak.
After a moment, he said quietly. “I see I’ve frightened you, and it wasn’t my intention at all. You’ll find me a long-suffering man, Angel.”
Still, she seemed unable to move, and he put an arm around her shoulders. “Come. I promised Maddie I would get you home in time for tea. That must have been hard for you to share, but I feel as if it was necessary to help me understand your background. You, little one, are quite a lovely young lady. I hope you realize it.”
She sighed. “Little one?” she echoed. “Please don’t refer to me as if I were a child, sir. I’m old enough to marry, am I not?”
“Indeed, you are. Think of it as an endearment. I shall use it again.”
Emotionally tired, she let him lead her toward home. But he noticed her steps seemed slower.
“You’re tired,” he observed. “Shall I carry you?”
“No.” She straightened suddenly, and he chuckled.
“Then I shall go slowly.”
“You needn’t slow on my account, sir.” There was defiance in her voice.
“Ah. I see. All right, then.” He sped up slightly, and she was unable to keep up. Finally, she pulled free and stopped abruptly, scowling fiercely at him.
This time, he laughed openly. He paused, holding out his arm until she took it, and maintained a leisurely pace back toward the house.
“You may stop scowling now.” He looked down as they reached the front steps. “It is unbecoming in such a beautiful young lady.”
Angel couldn’t help herself; she shook her head, adopting an incredulous expression. “I believe, sir, that you might benefit from spectacles. I am anything but beautiful.”
He scowled. “And what about you, my girl, is not beautiful?”
She continued to frown at him. “To begin with? Freckles.”
He leaned forward. “Where?”
She gave him a disdainful stare.
“I see them. But they are few, and faint. They are endearing.”
“My mouth is too big.”
“You have full lips that are enticing.”
She rolled her eyes.
“But rolling your eyes, young lady, is not. Stop it immediately.” His expression became suddenly strict.
She looked away, ignoring it. “And red hair.”
“The way it shines in the sunlight is enchanting. And you will never be allowed to cut it.”
“It is a pain in the—” She caught herself suddenly, biting her lip.
His eyes glinted. “Continue?” His voice was deep, husky, and threatening. “Angelica?”
“I... cannot, sir.”
His voice was firm. “You had better not.” His expression had become forbidding, and he straightened. Taking her by the shoulders, he gave her a slight shake. “And fair warning, young lady. You are never allowed to make disparaging remarks about yourself. That will get you into trouble more quickly than anything else we have discussed.”
“Oh? So there are yet more things I am not allowed to do?” She looked up defiantly, lifting her chin. “You, sir, seem to keep adding to the list you have given me.” Her eyes flashed with anger now.
But her eyes were not the only ones that were flashing. Mr. Wellington took hold of her arm firmly and turned her, planting half a dozen stinging swats on her bottom with his free hand. As she gasped in surprise, he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.
“Beware, young lady. And consider yourself lucky. The next time, I shall take you someplace private and lift your skirts so I have better access to your bottom.”
Angel opened her mouth to protest, but could think of nothing to say. She finally closed it again, in a straight line.
He opened the door, waiting for her to enter. When she did, she turned a little, easing past him through the doorway, her back facing away from him. With her eyes downcast, she did not see the way his mouth curled slightly up at the corners.
“Maddie? We are home,” he called out before Angel had the chance. She whirled on him, frowning.
“Is this your house, sir? Or mine?”
She wished she hadn’t spoken in such a manner. But he didn’t seem angry now. Instead, he nodded toward her, his eyes serious. “It is yours, Angel. No matter your decision, it shall always be yours.”
* * *
As they finished tea, Maddie asked if he would like to stay for supper, but he politely declined. “I would, however, like to take Miss Dawson for a walk again tomorrow,” he said, looking down at Angel. “But I’ll be by at ten o’clock, instead of two.” He waited until Maddie had returned to the kitchen, and then turned toward Angel, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“I have only one more day before I must leave, Angel,” he said softly. “Please let me know when you have made a decision.”
He had turned to walk toward the door when she reached out, touching his arm with a small hand.
“I have, sir.” Her voice was soft.
He turned and looked down into her eyes, waiting.
“The answer… is yes, sir.” Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his.
He frowned. “Are you certain? Angel, I don’t wish you to have regrets. I’d like you to think on it one more night. Tomorrow, if you still feel the same, we shall discuss it. All right?”
She studied him uncertainly as he stared down into the depths of her soul and nodded.
Finally, she nodded. “Yes sir.”
He kissed her hand, and bowed. “Good evening, Angel. Rest well.”
* * *
She expected to have doubts throughout the night, but each time she thought about it, she became more determined to carry through with her decision. She also became more afraid; she felt utterly unprepared to be the mistress of such a large estate.
It would be a marriage of convenience; there was no doubt of it. Would she be able to handle being at his mercy? She already knew he would be strict. She had promised herself, after her stepfather was killed, that she would never purposely put herself at someone else’s will.
Perhaps she could save back the stipend he gave her. And if it became too difficult, she might have some put back to run away.
When she glanced in the mirror before going to bed, she shook her head. What she saw there was a twelve-year old, uncertain little girl, staring back at her with large eyes and a frightened mouth.