Authors: Rebecca Gibson
Annabel breathed in the expensive smell of her mother's skin whilst the beautiful material of her tailored dress caressed her touch. Annabel sat as still as possible in the embrace of someone who she believed could keep her safe, terrified that should she move too quickly, she would wake up back in the stable.
An unknown amount of time passed as the two women sat on the gleaming floor. Servants wiped their eyes at the emotional scene they had witnessed, before moving off down the many different corridors to discreetly continue their chores elsewhere. Lady Elizabeth pulled back slightly, holding Annabel's chin in one hand as she turned her face this way and that to look at it from every available angle.
"I hope no one saw you looking like this," she tutted.
Annabel found this disapproving person far more familiar to her than the motherly, sensitive woman of a few seconds ago. She noticed lines had appeared around her mother's mouth and eyes, as if from worry.
"Yes Mother," she replied, her voice thick.
"Right." Rearranging her face to one of complete composure and erecting herself with her former posture, Lady Elizabeth pulled Annabel up beside her, patting her hand absentmindedly. "I must contact your father at once and you must dress for luncheon. I'm sure you are quite exhausted but we must keep up appearances and your father would worry terribly if he saw you like this. You're too thin Annabel, it doesn't suit you."
She rang a bell off to the left of her and bent forwards as if to kiss her daughter on the forehead. Just before her lips brushed the skin, she stopped and pulled back, wrinkling her nose. Annabel stepped away from her, embarrassed.
Stepping back as well, with one last smile for her daughter, a smile radiating through her entire face, she turned and walked up the stairs. Annabel was escorted up the opposite set of stairs, a maid appearing as if from thin air to escort her.
Annabel put one foot in front of the other in a trance, her limbs felt heavy and stiff from weariness and her skin tingled with the promise of an imminent bath. With her guard down her thoughts quickly fled back to Daniel, Patsy, Billy and Genevieve, wondering what could be happening to them at that moment. Hearing a rustle behind her Annabel glanced back, noticing another maid following her, sweeping the mud she was treading into the carpet. Annabel stopped.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, bending down to help.
"It - it's okay Miss," said the second maid, glancing uncertainly towards the first. They exchanged a glance. Annabel had never spoken to a maid before.
"P-please you've - you need to dress for lunch," the maid stammered. She touched Annabel's arm thus stopping her from helping. "P-please Miss."
"Oh...okay." She stood up, stumbling along the richly carpeted corridor.
She noticed more maids and footmen all staring as she walked past, too shocked to bow or curtsey. They were looking down at Annabel's bare feet, running up her body to the tattered clothes and tangled hair. She had never noticed how many members of staff there were at the house and suddenly, an idea hit her. She turned around racing down the stairs after her mother, using a stock of energy she hadn't thought she possessed.
"Mother - Mother!" she called, running up the west wing stairs and barging into the burgundy walled writing room that belonged to her mother. The elder woman was sitting behind a highly polished oak desk with her back to a floor to ceiling window, accessorised with red and gold edged curtains. Her head jerked up at the sound of her daughter's voice and she jumped to her feet.
"Annabel! Why are you not - you were going to get dressed."
"Yes." She looked down at her horrible clothes and bare feet. "I will but first, the place I escaped...the village I was taken to -"
She broke off, remembering her mother knew nothing of the last few weeks of her life. She waved a hand in front of her dismissively. "I'll explain it all after lunch, or at lunch - whichever. Well, I escaped with some friends that helped me while I was there -"
"Annabel, please. You're over exciting yourself."
"Listen Mother! Please. When the police shot Daniel - I need to talk to father the second he gets in because he is innocent, and what is happening to him is barbaric - but there were two people and a baby, their horse bolted."
"Annabel let's discuss this -"
"Later? No. In fact, whilst you're writing to father write to the station, Daniel needs to come to dinner tonight, I simply cannot have him sitting in a prison cell. Patsy, Billy and Genevieve, they need to be found and brought here, they could live in the house. In my wing of course. Billy's amazing with horses, I'm sure he would help out. People have been pretending to be relations for years, we will just say they are cousins and be done with it. The staff, if they dispersed around town, we could find them in a matter of minutes."
Her mother looked at her as if she were deranged. She walked over to her, a scared look on her face. It was as if she were approaching a horse that could bolt at any moment.
"Annabel you've clearly had an ordeal, you're in shock. Please just go and change."
Tears of anger fell from Annabel's eyes.
"Are you really that heartless? Daniel can't stay in prison! I don't even know what happened to the others. They are the reason I am still alive Mother-"
"Don't - don't say things like that Annabel."
"It's the truth. Please help them. For my sake, help them."
"I'll do what I can child but you must dress before your father arrives." She fingered the course fabric of Annabel's ripped dress. "Make sure the maids burn this thing, it's beyond vile."
Annabel smiled slightly but without much humour.
"Yes Mother. Please talk to Father before I come down, he must free Daniel and we must find the others."
"I'm sure he'll do everything he can," she looked slightly to the right of Annabel, towards a maid who had run in after her.
"Take her to her room, she must bathe. And make sure she rests before you bring her down to luncheon, she is quite beside herself."
Patting Annabel's cheek in a slightly disinterested way she walked past her - wiping her hand as she did so - and placed the letter she had composed into a crisp envelope. "And see to it that Lord Hoddington gets this within the hour."
"Yes Ma'am."
The maid gave a little curtsey, taking the letter and passing it to a nearby footman, leading Annabel once more up into the east wing.
Annabel walked up the stairs with a feeling of foreboding. It was almost as if she were walking towards her own prison, somewhere she would be polished and pruned, ready to be placed back on display as soon as possible. Her parents' best business asset had returned and it seemed they were anxious to forget the past few weeks had even occurred.
Once in her old bedroom Annabel glanced around, taking in the familiar sights. The Fleur-de-lis patterned wallpaper was still exactly as it had been when she left, matching the gold colour of the curtains draping around the tall window and queen-sized bed.
As Annabel walked further into her past, she ran her fingers lightly over the mantel of an elaborately carved marble fireplace that still smelt faintly of smoke, although it had been freshly laid at least a dozen times since she had been gone.
Breathing in the expensive smells she had grown up with, Annabel continued slowly towards the window. Peering out over the distant forest she stretched her hand towards it, thinking of Daniel's tender touch on her skin. Her fingers found only the cold glass which fogged beneath her touch, leaving a ghostly imprint when her arm fell back to her side.
"Your bath is ready Miss."
Annabel jumped, startled out of her daze and made her way into the adjoining room. It was a strange feeling being back in these walls. The rooms hadn't changed since she was last there. She could even still smell the perfume she had worn that final morning.
She stepped off the soft carpet and onto the heated tiles in the bathroom. The fire was raging in the fireplace, filling her with a kind of warmth she hadn't felt in weeks.
Tugging the ill-fitting clothes off she heard a distant clatter and looked down, jumping as she stared directly into Daniel's eyes, forever immortalised in his craftsmanship. Annabel bent slowly and walked back into her bedroom, as if in a trance, where she placed the carving in her bedside cabinet. When she reappeared in the bathroom the maids ceased their conversation immediately. Two maids rushed forwards with a warm cloth, cleaning off the worst of the mud and grime from Annabel's feet and legs before she was asked to step into the steaming water. She entered the bath tub slowly. Her skin, now unused to such luxuries as hot water, turned red as soon as it hit the water. Once she was fully immersed Annabel sighed as the warmth crept into her aches, soothing them almost instantly. She hadn't realised just how fatigued she was until the water began seeping into her muscles. She felt the dirt and sweat slide out from her pores as perfumed soap was lathered into her skin and hair.
As Annabel sat there, the maids worked. They rinsed her hair and brushed her teeth until they felt as soft beneath her tongue as polished pearls. Following this her rough hands and feet were scrubbed and filed to within an inch of their lives, her nails clipped and polished until they once more sat even and shining. They were restoring her to her former self, pristine and perfect on the outside yet they couldn't fix the wounds that had mauled her soul.
She could hear the maids whispering to each other somewhere in her subconscious but she didn't pay attention. For the first time in her life she didn't care what people were saying about her.
After the initial scrubbing Annabel was told to step out whilst the now black water was emptied and fresh water replaced it. This was done three times before eventually she was deemed clean enough and dried off. Whilst the three maids continued to work, rubbing oils and lotions into her skin and dabbing perfume behind her ears, some other maids spent the time in Annabel's large closet, altering the outfit they wanted her to wear so it fit her newly shrunken frame. They settled on a high necked dress overlain with lace ruffles and small pearl buttons.
A thin white chemise was pulled over her head before being layered up with undergarments and petticoats. Finally, she was laced into a corset and her arms pulled into a pink silk robe that trailed the floor as she shuffled in her stocking clad feet to the dressing table. Annabel looked into the mirror, watching as her team brushed out her tangled hair, cutting off the ends with a practiced precision so it fell once more in delicate waves down her back, gleaming celestially in the crystal light above their heads. Her face was still porcelain in both appearance and touch. Fingers slid into her hair, working it up into an elaborate bun at the nape of her neck. They slid a new hair comb into the bun, adorned with a further cluster of pearls.
When this was done, the maids fixing Annabel's appearance crept into the closet. She could hear a hushed up argument before one of them returned. The dress was clearly not ready and the maids were scared.
"P-perhaps you would care for a rest Miss?" one of them stuttered.
"Yes, I think I should like that." Annabel tried to smile but the emotion never made it onto her face. Looking away she walked back into her room, taking a well stuffed pillow off of her bed and sitting herself on her deep window seat, she looked out once more at the forest in the distance.
She fingered the lace at the edge of her robe, watching the light shine off the silk as it tumbled down over the sill and onto the floor. She placed one foot on the carpet, marvelling at how soft it was even through her stocking. Once more, she wondered how she could have failed to notice how fantastically made every part of this estate was. Her family owned nearly every one of the houses in and around the village, as well as several estates around the country.
Looking back out over the forest Annabel's thoughts quickly flew to Daniel, suffering unknown terror and pain as she sat in the height of luxury.
A maid placed a cup of tea with lemon and sugar on a small table by her feet and she sipped at it absentmindedly, the hot liquid burning her throat as it slid into her empty stomach. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was until that point. Pouring another from the gold tea pot she cradled it in her hands as tears slid silently down her cheeks.
She must have fallen asleep for she didn't notice the maid coming up behind her until she was tapped gently on the shoulder. She shot to her feet, startled, fixing her eyes on the young girl in a neatly pressed black gown and white apron.
"Miss? Your father has arrived home and is anxious to see you. He said he will wait in the family parlour."
"Yes, yes of course. Thank you."
She set down her now empty tea cup and made her way back into the dressing room, throwing her robe onto the chaise. Behind a hand painted screen more maids helped her into her now smaller clothes. They didn't fit as well as they would have before she left but they were close enough. She glanced down at her beaded shoes and then up into the full length mirror, gasping as the reflection of her former self gazed out at her. Pinching her cheeks she took a deep breath, suddenly nervous and walked out of the room, towards the smallest of the parlours downstairs.
The expensive material around her legs rustled as she walked, her heels clicking on the floor. She tried to take a deep breath but her corset was pulled too tight, making anything more than half a lung impossible. The palms of her hands had turned cold, although sweat was making them damp. The bodice of her dress jumped as her heart hammered against her ribs.
Inside the parlour, her father was stood looking into the fire, his newly lined forehead creased up in stress. One hand rested on his hip, the other on the mantel piece. Her mother was sat in a large wing backed chair still wearing her black mourning gown. Hearing the soft clicking of Annabel's step Lord Hoddington turned around. He strode over to his daughter with a fierce desperation in his eyes and seized her in an out of character hug. The embrace was so tight she couldn't breathe but she clung to the back of his tailored suit, equally as desperate for her father's touch. He kissed her cheek, his wispy beard brushing across her face. It was such a familiar feeling that Annabel's eyes grew hot, her throat tightening.