Annabel gestured to the beribboned locks in Stella’s fist. “Why don’t you keep that one? I want a little piece of me to go with you to Italy.”
“I’ll treasure it.”
“Here, let me wrap it for you.” Annabel took a piece of velvet cloth from her drawer and Stella kissed the lock again before wrapping it up and slipping it into the pocket of her skirt from whence she retrieved her kerchief and pressed it to her eyes.
“What time will Nate come for us?” Annabel said, wanting to change the subject. Stella’s emotions would only serve to make her fearful and hesitant.
“In the early morning hours, well before sunrise.” Stella sniffed.
“And Papa, is he still—”
“In his study nursing his back pain, yes.” Stella nodded. “His valet informed the staff earlier that the master will sup from a tray in his study. In truth, I think he’s taking advantage of his freedom while Mrs. Leonard and your sisters are in Yorkshire.”
“Yes, we all feel relief from her presence.” Annabel put down her hairbrush. “It’s a strike of luck that her papa fell ill.”
“Hush!” Stella crossed herself. “You mustn’t say such things.”
“I don’t wish him sick, you know that. But it would have been near impossible for me to escape with her in the house.” Annabel sighed.
“How can we be sure Papa won’t wake?”
“You have nothing to fear in that regard.” Stella grinned. “He always enjoys a few extra glasses of brandy when Mrs. Leonard is away, so he is sure to sleep like the dead tonight.”
“Good,” Annabel said, and the storm in her stomach quieted a bit. “And what of the servants? Do we need to worry?”
“They’re a weary bunch in need of their rest. With Mrs. Leonard gone, they are finally able to relax. Believe me, none of them have the energy to wake up in the middle of the night if they don’t have to.” Stella tenderly drew her hand across Annabel’s shorn hair, a gesture she’d used since Annabel had been a child. It was meant to soothe her, but right now it only strengthened her resolve to leave. She met Stella’s eyes in the mirror with her own.
Stella gave her a small, fond smile. “Now, I’m going to fetch your supper. You can eat in your room since your papa won’t be dining downstairs.”
“No, Stella. I couldn’t eat a thing.”
“But you’ve got a long journey ahead of you, and you’ll need a good meal in your stomach.”
“I can’t.”
“Then I’ll bring us some bread and cheese for the journey.” Stella left the room, shaking her head, and Annabel got to work pinning her hair into a chignon. Ten minutes later, she admired her handiwork—not as good as Stella’s, but she’d get better with practice. Moving to her writing desk, she extracted a crisp white paper from her drawer and picked up her quill pen. She dipped it into the ink and began to write:
Dear Papa,
By the time you read this, I will be a married woman, and quite out of your reach. I am sorry it came to this, but I must do as my heart tells me and marry for love.
The man I am marrying is kind, loving, and industrious.
You needn’t worry about me; I will have a good life with him.
Your loving daughter,
Annabel
She put down her quill and read the letter, imagining her father’s rage, reading how she’d run off and married her true love, seeking happiness and shirking her duty as a daughter and sister.
She sighed.If only it were true.
*
Hours later, whenthe house stood dark and silent, Annabel slipped into the black hooded cloak secured for her by Stella and tiptoed downstairs. As she stepped into the hallway, Stella slipped from the shadows to meet her. Together, they exited the house and crossed the street where a black carriage, complete with two black horses and a driver who also wore dark clothing, waited in a darkened corner under a thicket of trees. Anyone watching the two cloaked figures shuffling toward it would have thought they’d vanished into the night when they slipped into the carriage—at least, that is what Annabel imagined as she and Stella ensconced themselves in the waiting vehicle.
Stella pulled the door gently to a close, and as soon as it clicked, the horses stirred, and the carriage inched forward onto the road.
