Chapter 10

MAB LAY ON HER BED staring up into the canopied frame for what felt like hours.

Now that she’d got over the initial shock of her new abode being a manor – not the damp, dark, mossy dungeon that she’d convinced herself was waiting at the end of the journey – her thoughts turned back to her father.

Waves of anger crashed over her every time she pictured his white whiskers and stern glance as he gestured for the carriage door to be closed. He’d sent her off into the clutches of the unknown without any hesitation for her comfort or safety. How was he to know that a manor and a kindly faced woman would be waiting for Mab at the other end?

He had broken her trust in the most egregious way. Even if Mab were to stumble upon the love of her life here (though she thought it extremely unlikely), she knew she would never be able to forgive her father for his betrayal.

Mab felt her eyes prick with the beginning of tears, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop them from taking root. She tossed over in her bed and looked at the miniature painting of her mother. She wondered what her mother would make of her situation.

Mab’s mother had been fiery and wild and had never been afraid to stop her father in his tracks when he overstepped the mark and did something out of haste. Most gentlemen would have tried to break Mab’s mother in an attempt to mould her into a demure and diminutive wife. But Mab’s father appreciated being called out when he needed to be.

“My Aveline,” he would say, “the angel on my shoulder, always pointing me in the right direction.”

Mab wished more than anything that her father had spent every night since she’d left lying in bed awake wondering what his wife would think of him had she been alive. She felt instantly guilty at the thought. Despite what her father had done to her, it was cruel to wish that kind of misery on him. Though she really didn’t think she’d ever be able to forgive him.

Mab made a conscious decision to put her father out of her mind. To distract herself, she pondered how exactly she might be expected to meet her future husband. While she no longer had the impression that she was to be paraded around the livestock market, she would have to interact with the men. Would she be given the chance to meet all of the available men? Would she be allowed to pick?

Or maybe she would simply draw her future husband’s name out of a bonnet.

A sharp knock to the door pulled Mab’s attention from her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said hesitantly.

The door opened and a maid, dressed in a similar black velvet uniform to the footmen and the strange servant-guards, waltzed in. Her chestnut hair was pinned up in a bun, a few wayward strands framing her pretty face. Her mossy green eyes met Mab’s, and her mouth pulled into a glittering grin.

“Afternoon, Miss Mab! I brought ye a bag of yers that was accidentally left downstairs,” she said. While the maid clearly had a Scottish accent, it had an odd twang to it. It reminded her of her father. While one could still hear the odd Liverpudlian twang, it was muted – unless angered, of course – meaning that her father never quite fit in with his docker family, nor the gentry.

“Thank you ... Miss?”

“Arabella.”

“That’s a very beautiful name,” Mab said.

“Thank ye, Miss Mab. Ye also have a lovely name. Well suited, aye, what with looking like a fairy princess.”

Mab couldn’t help but smile. Her days of darting through the garden and pretending to be a fairy, hiding under the massive leaves of tree ferns and gunnera plants, had stopped when she’d returned from her aunt’s to find more than half of her family dead. She missed that young, carefree Mab. She sometimes wondered what kind of woman she’d have been if her brothers had survived. She wouldn’t have had to learn so much about her father’s estate, of course. Mab would probably have spent her time dreaming of monsters and mythical creatures, not crop rotations. And she might have written a novel, or two, not ledgers and account books.

But while she would have enjoyed an alternative life of writing and dreaming up fantastical worlds, she also loved having an input into her father’s business. She was treated like an equal – where legally possible, of course – her opinions and advice were respected and sought after, and her father and Uncle Brian had never considered her any less for being a woman.

A pang of guilt hollowed her stomach. Her father was a good man. She once again pondered whether his long-held respect for Mab would be enough for her to forgive him for shipping her off to this unknown place.

“Miss Mab?” Arabella pulled Mab from her thoughts.

“Oh, sorry, Arabella. You just reminded me of something.”

Arabella answered with another smile before jovially making her way across the room and setting Mab’s bag on the end of the bed. “Do ye need help unpacking it, Miss Mab?”

“I’m not even sure what’s in it,” Mab said truthfully. “It wasn’t I who packed it. ”

“That’s the way with most of the girls. Not many of them knew they were coming here before they were shipped off. But if ye notice anything that yer own maids forgot to pack, just let me know. I’m sure I can scrounge something up for ye.”

Arabella helped alleviate the last of Mab’s dread of her current situation. It was Mab’s experience that one could generally tell the atmosphere of a household from the attitude of the servants – the people that saw the true faces of their masters and mistresses.

“Thank you, Arabella. That is very kind of you,” Mab said. “Say, could I ask you a rather sensitive question?”

Arabella nodded her head as she took a seat on the end of the bed. Mab got the distinct impression that Arabella was well aware of Mab’s brewing question and had been asked it by many girls before.

“Is this place really how Aunt áine describes it?”

“That and more, Miss Mab,” Arabella said. The maid let out a sigh and looked Mab up and down as if assessing her. Finally, she said, “Truth be told, áine and her husband, Angus, are centuries ahead of their time. I mean in terms of their attitude towards love and acceptance,” Arabella added at Mab’s look of confusion.

“Ahead of their time?” Mab parroted.

“Aye,” Arabella said. “Ye see, they both believe that love isn’t something that can be forced and that there’s no bigger sin than being coerced into a life with someone ye hate. They know love can be unexpected and unconventional. And they know that it is mostly the women who don’t have a choice in it. So, they created this place decades ago.” Arabella gestured around the room. “I won’t tell ye the ins and outs of how it came about; that’s not my story to tell. But what I will say is that it’s a safe haven for those that would have been cast out otherwise. It’s a place where there is no judgement. Here, ye can pick who ye choose to love, how ye choose to love, or to not love at all if that’s yer choice. A lot of the girls are here because they’ve shamed their family, whether voluntarily or no’. And their family want to save their reputation, aye?” She looked Mab up and down as if she could guess exactly what she’d done to land herself on Aunt áine’s doorstep. “There’s also a lot of girls here who have suffered at the hands of another, and their family either don’t know how to deal with their trauma or don’t care to.”

Mab’s brows knotted. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll not say too much on the subject – again, they’re not my stories to tell. But not every girl is here because they couldn’t resist a tumble with the stable boy. Some have even voluntarily written to áine themselves to get them out of a life shackled to their abusers.”

Mab felt a stab of pain in her heart. She couldn’t bear to imagine what kind of terror would make a woman write to a fabled ghoul to save them.

“Some of the women are here to find a husband, and some are here to heal. That’s why the location is so secret. When áine and Angus step in to rescue these girls, they can’t exactly have the family and abusers know where they’ve been whisked off to, now can they? And they have many, many measures in place to safeguard their guests.”

“Like what?” Mab asked. Mab hadn’t noticed when she’d crossed the room and had taken a seat beside Arabella on the bed, so engrossed was she in the motivations behind this place.

“Well, take the men, for example. It’s not just any man that is invited here. áine and Angus read every request personally and send for those that they think would be a good fit for their girls. They then assess the men when they get here just to make sure their values align with áine and Angus’s. Then there’s all the staff who are trained in safeguarding and to make sure that any and all interactions are consensual.”

Mab’s brows knotted again.

Arabella smiled. “It’s another way the pair are centuries ahead of their time. They won’t judge ye if ye choose to take a man to yer bed here. So long as both of yis are in agreement. Oh, that reminds me – if ye do find someone that takes yer fancy, we have a doctor to hand that can provide ye with a special tea to prevent—”

“I don’t think I’ll be requiring that service,” Mab interrupted. While Mab thought of herself as more liberal than her peers, she hadn’t quite been ready to hear that no one would bat an eyelid should she choose to bed a suitor. “Besides,” she said, unable to stop herself, “I doubt any of the men here would take my fancy. I have a general aversion to so-called gentlemen.”

Arabella smiled back at her. “Och, I’m sure there’ll be one out there that will catch yer eye sooner or later. Besides, the men and women here are from all walks of life.”

For a third time, Mab’s brows furrowed. “I thought Aunt áine was a story to get young ladies-in-the-making to behave themselves?”

Arabella snorted. “Ye think that wee girls in cottages aren’t warned about Aunt áine too? Sure, me own mother regularly threatened me with Aunt áine, though that was because I showed no interest in any of the men in my village.”

Mab suddenly felt very stupid and elitist. Tentatively, she asked, “Is that why you’re here? Did your mother send you?”

Arabella’s face softened. “Nah, my mother was long dead before I came here. I wrote to áine myself.”

Mab felt a terrible sense of guilt, remembering what Arabella had said about women who had been abused. She resolved herself not to question Arabella further.

Arabella, on the other hand, continued, “See, after my mother died, I got a position as a maid in a very wealthy household. They were a lovely family. But one night, when the parents were out, the young master of the house invited his friends over. I had always thought I could handle myself, determined to be the virgin maid. The household was a safe haven, and I thought my virtue would remain intact – that was until he was invited over. As it turned out, I was no match for him when he’d had a feed of drink. I ran that night, using what little coin I’d saved to provide a roof over my head and food in my belly. I was eating for two.”

It took a moment for Arabella’s words to sink in.

Arabella allowed Mab a minute to process before continuing, “I was nearly out of coin, and as a last resort, I sent a letter to Aunt áine. I honestly didn’t think it would work. A week passed and I was at the point of considering having to sell my body to survive when a carriage with no windaes pulled up to the inn. I was just as scared as the rest of the girls here. áine offered to find me a husband, but one experience with a man was enough for me. She said I could stay as long as I needed to, and very soon I realised that I never wanted to leave. I asked her if I could earn my keep and become a maid here, and she agreed. She pays me more annually than I would have got in a decade of working elsewhere. My wee boy goes to the best school in the area, and I eventually found the love of my life here!”

“I thought you said you didn’t want a husband?” Mab asked, confused.

“I didn’t want a husband,” Arabella agreed. “I wanted a wife.”

Mab’s mouth opened and closed. A wife? Mab had heard rumours of such women, but she had never met someone of the sapphic persuasion, as far as she was aware, so she was frustratingly ignorant right now and struggled to verbally express the fact that she was happy for Arabella.

“It’s not a legal marriage, of course,” Arabella continued. “And me wife and I dinnae exactly advertise it outside of the sanctuary of áine and Angus’s.” Arabella’s face pulled into a reminiscent smile as she slapped her knee and continued, “Heavens above, I thought áine and Angus were going to throw me and Bobbie out when they caught us in the pantry that day! But they found us a cottage and threw us a handfast ceremony instead. We exchanged rings and everything!”

Arabella thrust out her hand to proudly show off her ring. Mab gently took Arabella’s hand in hers and rolled her fingers from side to side. The ring was a beautiful small emerald surrounded by shimmering opals. “It’s breathtaking,” Mab said.

“Thank ye!” Arabella beamed. “My Bobbie has a matching one, though she has to wear hers on a necklace most of the time, otherwise it would just get covered in dough.” Arabella tutted as if this had, indeed, happened on many occasions. “Anyway,” Arabella said, getting to her feet, “there is so much I ought to get on with. Three times a week, the men come over for a soiree of sorts, and tonight is one of those nights. Ye don’t have to go, of course, if ye need time to settle in. But I did hear that there’s a handful of new men that’s joined the ranks. Anyway, I’m sure one of the girls will be able to tell ye what to expect at the gatherings. Oh, and see that wee cottage over yonder?” Arabella pointed her finger out the window. It took Mab a frustrating moment to find the thatched roof of a dwelling she’d not noticed before. “That’s my home. If ye ever fancy a cup of tea and a change of scenery, ye can find either me or Bobbie there.”

Unable to help herself, Mab pulled Arabella into an embrace. “Thank you for your kindness,” Mab said as she let go of the slightly shocked maid.

Arabella smiled as she stood up and walked to the door. She paused in the doorway and tipped her head towards Mab. “I like ye,” she said unabashedly. “I really think ye’ll love it here. And I really, really hope ye find happiness in whatever form it may come.”