Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hetty ran down the steps of the house, just as the carriage was pulling to a stop. She was so excited that she could barely contain it.

The carriage door opened and out stepped her best friend in the whole world. Miss Annabelle Foster squealed in delight, her golden ringlets shaking on either side of her face, opening her arms.

"There you are!" she cried, enveloping Hetty in a warm embrace. "It has been so long, my dearest. Why, I have not seen you since your wedding day …" She bit her lip, trailing off awkwardly.

Hetty sighed. She knew that it was going to be like this when she finally saw Annabelle again. But she didn't care anymore. The awkwardness of what had happened to her was dwarfed by the pleasure of finally seeing her closest friend again.

"You simply must tell me everything," whispered Annabelle, as they walked, arm in arm, into the house. "I shall not be satisfied until you do."

Hetty sighed again. "It shall be a long tale, I fear," she said, gripping Annabelle's arm tightly.

***

They settled on the table and chairs in the garden with their tea. Della scurried around their feet. Annabelle reached down, petting the dog, before she turned to Hetty, fixing her with a steady gaze.

"I want to start by saying that I am sorry," said Annabelle slowly. "I am sorry that you felt that you could not see me during this awful time …"

Hetty shook her head firmly. "It was not that I did not wish to see you, Annabelle. I have missed you so very much." She paused, biting her lip. "It is just that I would not have been very good company at all. And I had no desire to go anywhere or see anyone who might speak of … my shame. Not even your parents, as good as they are."

Her friend sighed. "I could have come here, to Hillsworth House, to visit, just as I am doing now," she said slowly. "You should have leant on me, Hetty. That is what friends are for."

Hetty nodded, biting her lip harder. Perhaps she had been too cautious in not reaching out to people.

"It warms my heart to hear you say it, Annabelle," she said slowly. "I was afraid. Afraid that you might not wish to know me, after what Frank did to me. That you might not want to associate with a ruined woman …"

"What nonsense," said Annabelle, snorting. "I do not care what society thinks about what has been done to you. It was none of your doing. The fault lies entirely with that rake, who you call a husband." She glowered. "I never liked him you know. Not that I would have told you before."

"You didn't?" asked Hetty, surprised.

Annabelle shook her head. "No. Too smarmy and smooth, in my book. Frank Blackmore always tried a little bit too hard." She paused. "But having said that, I never expected this, for a moment. That he would do what he has done to you. Have you had any word from him or know where he is and what he is doing now?"

Hetty shook her head. "Nothing. Papa hired a private investigator, but so far, there have been no sightings of him. It is all a mystery."

"And he simply walked out on you the day after your wedding?"

Hetty nodded. "He left a note on a table in my bedroom. Later in the morning, a solicitor arrived, informing me the house had been sold a week prior, and that I must vacate …"

Annabelle flushed with anger. "The swine! How could he have done this to you? I swear before God Almighty that I shall punch him in the nose if I ever have the misfortune of seeing his miserable face again."

Hetty laughed. "Do not do that, dearest. You might get into trouble." She sighed. "I am resigned to it now. It still hurts but not as bad as it did …"

Annabelle picked up her tea, sipping thoughtfully. Then she put down the cup, staring at her friend.

"I have heard other rumours," she said slowly. "That a duke, no less, has been staying here, on and off, paying you attention. Is it true, Hetty?"

Hetty blushed. "It is true. I could not believe it when he arrived on our doorstep, proposing marriage …"

"But you are still married," breathed Annabelle, her eyes wide. "Did he not realise that?"

"He knows," said Hetty, shaking her head. "But he does not care. He has helped Papa to apply for a divorce on my behalf and claims that he shall wait for me." She hesitated. "He is the gentleman who I was dancing with at the Farnhams' ball when you became sick, all those years ago. Do you remember me telling you about him?"

Annabelle gasped. "Yes, I do! The wickedly handsome one, with green eyes, and dark hair? But you did not say he was a duke …"

"That was because I did not know," said Hetty, frowning slightly. "He lied to me, that night, introducing himself as someone else entirely. He claims it was just a lark, for the evening, but I do not know." She hesitated. "Something about him does not add up. I think that he might be hiding something from me …"

"Oh, Hetty, do not be so suspicious," breathed Annabelle, her eyes shining. "He has remembered you, through all these years, and is intent on marrying you, despite what has happened, and the fact that you may never get a divorce." She paused. "I know how impressed you were at the time by him. You should give him a chance. Has he declared his love for you?"

Hetty shook her head. "No. But he spends a lot of time with me and treats me very well." She bit her lip. "But Annabelle, I cannot marry him, even if my divorce does come through. I vowed never to trust a man again, after what Frank did to me. I simply cannot let myself be vulnerable, in such a way, ever again …"

Annabelle looked shocked. "Hetty, he is a duke ," she breathed. "You would have such high status. Your life would be so very privileged. And I can tell that you like him, just by the way you are speaking about him." She gazed at Hetty sadly. "Not all gentlemen are cut from the same cloth as Frank Blackmore, dearest. I know that you have been wronged so very badly, but that does not mean this man will do the same thing to you …"

Hetty's frown deepened. This was agony. She so wanted to believe what Annabelle was saying to her. But every time she started to soften towards the Duke, she began to panic. It was as if a defensive wall was suddenly erected inside her, and she could not hope to scale it.

"I wish to join a convent," she said, looking Annabelle in the eye. "I want to be a nun."

"What?" snorted Annabelle, spilling her tea. " A nun ? You are joking with me, surely?"

Hetty miserably shook her head. "It is no joke. I wish to be in control of my own life and not be a burden on my parents for the rest of my days. I cannot marry ever again, even if I obtain a divorce. And in the world, I am a ruined woman. I do not wish to carry around the taint of scandal forever …"

"Hetty, you are not thinking clearly," said Annabelle, looking shocked. "You are hurt and heartbroken by what Frank has done to you. I do not blame you for that, but you simply cannot throw your life away in a convent. I know you, and you would make a terrible nun. Believe me."

Hetty felt offended. "I think I would be quite competent …"

"No, you would not," said Annabelle quickly. "I do not wish to rain on your parade, dearest, but it is the simple truth of it. You are much too spirited. You would be arguing with the mother superior on the first day. You are not subservient enough for such a life, Hetty. And you are far too clever." She paused, gazing at Hetty thoughtfully. "Did Frank … make love to you on your wedding night?"

Hetty blushed again. "No, he would not even sleep next to me, in the same bed. He claimed that I was tired, and he wanted to give me space …"

Annabelle sighed heavily. "You have not even been touched by a man, Hetty. Do you not think you would regret that if you took the veil? You would never be able to live freely again. That chance would be gone forever." She paused. "And I can tell that you like this duke, in that certain way. You would not be blushing so fiercely every time we mention him if you did not."

Hetty was silent. She shifted uneasily in her chair, contemplating Annabelle's words.

It was true. She longed for the Duke to touch her. It was like a fire that had been slowly growing within her, the more time they spent together. Sometimes, if he accidently brushed against her, it leapt to life, as if it had a life of its own.

Imagine what it would be like to be touched by him all the time. Every night of my life, lying in his arms …

She shuddered, feeling that fire stirring within her once again. It was kindling to life, leaping and flickering, so fierce that she was scared that it would engulf her, entirely.

"Where is the Duke now?" asked Annabelle, quickly gazing around. "Is he here?"

Hetty shook her head. "No. He comes and goes, back and forth, between his estate in Hampshire, and here." She frowned. "It is strange, Annabelle. He grows moody, after a few days here, and then suddenly announces he must leave within the hour. I am sure he is hiding something from me …"

Annabelle sighed again. "Hetty, if you want my advice, I think you should just let it happen, as it will," she said slowly. "Stop trying to fight what you feel. Learn to trust again. And do not run away to a convent, dearest. You would look simply hideous in a nun's habit."

Hetty burst out laughing. Annabelle joined in, and suddenly, they were both hysterical. Della jumped excitedly, eager to be a part of the hilarity.

***

After Annabelle had left, Hetty sat in the drawing room, trying to read one of the books that the Duke had leant her. But her heart wasn't in it. Restlessly, she put the book down, wandering through the house, like a lost soul.

Was her friend right? Should she give the Duke a chance and give up the thought of entering a convent entirely?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Hetty took a deep breath, then walked swiftly towards it. She was closest, after all, and it would save the butler the long walk from the kitchen.

There was a messenger standing there. Without a word, he put a letter into her hands and left.

Hetty stared down at it, her blood running cold.

It was addressed to her. And it was written in Frank Blackmore's hand. She would recognise that scrawl anywhere.

She almost dropped the letter. He had written to her. Fearfully, she gazed at it as if it might suddenly explode.

He had turned her whole world upside down. What on earth was the letter going to say? For a moment, she was tempted to throw it to the wind.

But then, she stopped herself. She had to be brave. She must face this.

With a heart full of dread, she trailed up the stairs to her room to read it privately. Her legs were shaking so much Hetty was surprised that she didn't fall down entirely.

Her past had returned. And she knew, with deep certainty, that this letter was not going to contain anything good.