“The people in this book are coarse, and they curse each other like dogs.”
“It’s only a story,” Annabel repeated in a whisper.
“In thisstory, the heroine stamps her foot, shouts orders, and slaps the face of her gentleman caller. Do you still say it’s appropriate?” Papa’s voice rose in warning like the rumblings of a volcano before an eruption. “Is this what you deem harmless?” He roared. “Is it the example you wish to set for your impressionable sisters?” He smashed the book onto the table, making Annabel jump.
“Of course not. They are mere children, but I am a few months shy of one-and-twenty and old enough to know the difference between real life and a book.”
Papa bristled like an enraged bear. “Mrs. Leonard is right. These novels aren’t simply foolish, they are dangerous. They’ve put ideas in your head that have turned you willful and made you disobedient.”
“I’m sorry, Papa.” Annabel attempted to placate her father. “I did not mean to—”
“Who gave you this filth?” His voice cut into her apology like an executioner’s blade.
“I purchased it with my pin money. The same way I did all of those.” She gestured to the pile of books.
“From where? Who sells filth like this to young women?”
Annabel hesitated. She could not tell her papa that Stella had purchased most of the books on her behalf. Her lady’s maid was in enough trouble already.
“I believe Annabel knows as much,” Mrs. Leonard interjected, “and that is why she has been sending Stella out to purchase these books for her.”
No!She couldn’t allow her stepmother to implicate Stella. Fear gripped Annabel’s throat. If her papa believed that, he’d send Stella away. Her stepmother’s mouth continued to move rapidly, and her Papa’s frown deepened. But all Annabel could hear was the pounding of her own heart.What is she saying? Someone stop her! She wants Stella gone.
“That’s not true!” Her voice rang out, surprising everyone.
But itwastrue. And Annabel knew this was how her stepmother would punish Stella for speaking against Lord Craventhorp.
“I have been too lenient with you, Annabel. Mrs. Leonard has been warning me for years that Stella indulges you far too much, and I neglected to act, but I cannot do so any longer.”
Annabel’s legs grew weak. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you are to be the wife of a viscount, and you need to learn how to behave like a lady. A new lady’s maid accustomed to the ways of high society will be engaged to prepare you accordingly.”
“Replace Stella?” Panic clawed at Annabel’s throat, choking her.
“Stella will be allowed to stay on as a housemaid—ifyou cooperate and refrain from making a fuss,” Mr. Leonard said.
“A housemaid? Stella is no housemaid. She is my lady’s maid, and I trust her unequivocally. Did she not tell you about Lord Craventhorp—what he did to my arm?” She looked from her stepmother to her father. “He hurt me. I can show you his fingermarks—”
“Silence!” Mrs. Leonard’s command bit into Annabel’s words. “Enough of your lies. Do you expect us to believe that Lord Craventhorp mishandled you during a ten-minute walk in the garden while Mrs. Dawley’s guests milled about? And while your Papa awaited your return inside the house? Preposterous! Those fingermarks belong to your dear Stella, who will do anything to give you whatever it is you demand.”
“No, I swear to you. Lord Craventhorp is malicious. He knew I would not be believed, precisely for the reasons you just stated.”
Mrs. Leonard put a hand to her forehead and turned to her husband. “Make her stop, please. It’s all too much. I just received word that my dear Papa is ill, and I’m so worried about him. How can I cope with her theatrics as well?”
“I’m speaking the truth. Please, you must listen!”
“Enough lies!” Papa bellowed. “Your stepmother’s father is ill. You are upsetting her with this rebellious behavior! It ends now, daughter. Youwillmarry Lord Craventhorp, and youwillhave a new lady’s maid. Mrs. Leonard is taking your sisters to her father’s estate in Yorkshire tomorrow. And when she returns, she will bring with her your new lady’s maid.”
“The very woman who served me when I resided in Yorkshire,” Mrs. Leonard said smugly.
“You can’t! Please, Papa.” Annabel wanted to fall to her knees or cry. Anything to get him to listen to her. “How can you not believe me? Your own daughter?”
“How?” He picked up Annabel’s worn copy ofWuthering Heights. “Because, like the heroines in your novels, you’ve become willful and dishonest,” he barked. “And your behavior shames me!” He flung the book into the hearth.
“No!” Annabel sprang forward, but it was too late. She watched with helpless fury as the rapacious flames devouredWuthering Heights, gilding the edges of its pages bright and orange, before singeing them so that blackness swept over the words, charring them. The fire popped and crackled as it danced, growing higher; darkened bits of burned paper flew up the chimney and away. The rest turned to ash in the grate.
It was as if pieces of her were flying away with them. Annabel stood, hands clenched, as tears began to course down her cheeks.
