Earl Lessons by Valerie Bowman
Chapter Thirty-Five
Annabelle was in Lord Worthington’s splendid conservatory as dusk approached. The magnificent space was filled with all sorts of flowers, including orchids, of all lovely things. Annabelle had always adored orchids. So unique and beautiful. None of her silly suitors in London had ever thought to send her any. None of them had ever asked what she preferred. She was sitting on a stone bench near the delicate flowers when her brother came hiking through the mulch toward her.
Without saying a word, Beau sat beside her and expelled his breath. He stared straight ahead, not looking at her, his forearms resting on his knees.
Annabelle waited for him to say something. Beau was never at a loss for words, but when several interminable minutes passed without so much as a greeting, she decided to be the one to speak.
“Yes?” she prodded. She knew her brother well enough to know he hadn’t just happened by. When Beau came looking for you, it was because he had something to say, usually something one would do well to listen to. “Why have you come?”
“To speak with you,” he replied simply, as he stared directly ahead at the orchids.
“And yet you do not speak.” She tried to smile at the jest, but Beau turned to look at her just then and their gazes met. Were those tears in her brother’s eyes? Oh, no. She couldn’t stand it if Beau cried. Beau was the strongest, bravest person she knew. What was wrong? Why did he have tears in his eyes? Tears filled her eyes too.
“The problem is,” Beau finally said softly, “for once in my life, I’m not entirely certain what to say.”
Annabelle swallowed a lump in her throat. “Do you want to say something about my impending marriage, perhaps?” she offered. That had to be why he was here. She’d embarrassed her brother by being caught in a scandal at his wedding, of all events. Was Beau ashamed of her? She couldn’t bear it if he was ashamed of her.
“It has to do with your impending marriage, in a way,” Beau replied.
Annabelle’s hands were beginning to perspire. Worry was quickly spreading through her veins. “You’re frightening me, Beau. Please say it. It cannot be worse than what I’m imagining.”
Beau took another deep breath. He hung his head and stared at the mulch beneath his boots. “Annabelle,” he began. Her chest ached to hear her brother’s voice so vulnerable and raw. “Do you think I would ever strike Marianne?”
Annabelle gasped. What did he say? Unthinkable. “No, of course not.” She shook her head vigorously.
Beau nodded slowly before asking, “Do you think I would ever strike you? Or Mother?”
“Never,” she breathed, but the lump she’d swallowed was back and so large she could barely breathe. And the tears in her eyes had welled to a point where she couldn’t even see. The conservatory was a mostly green blur.
Beau nodded again, his head still bowed. “In the same way that I would never strike you, or Mother, or Marianne, there are other men who would never do such things either. Our father just wasn’t one of them.”
The tears slipped down Annabelle’s cheeks. They hadn’t spoken about these things in years. Never spoken about them as adults, certainly. The scars of their childhood had healed over without any discussion. That was the way of their set, wasn’t it? Stiff upper lip and all that. Now her brother was ripping open those long-forgotten wounds with a few simple words. “What are you saying, Beau?” she managed to ask, though her throat ached terribly.
Beau pushed himself back on the bench and met her gaze again. Ever the gentleman, he pulled a snowy white handkerchief from his inside coat pocket and handed it to her. “I’m saying I believe Elmwood is a good man. The type of man who would never raise a hand to you. I’ve seen him in his cups. He’s more of a jester than a fighter when he’s foxed.”
Annabelle wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief. “I suppose I’m a fool, but I’ve lived all these years never even considering the fact that you would never strike anyone. Of course that means there must be other men who were honorable as well.”
“You’re not a fool, Annabelle. You’re a young woman who was exposed to things at a very young age you never should have had to see. I’m the fool who should have realized why you never wished to marry.”
“You’re not a fool, Beau.” Her voice cracked. “You were a boy who endured things he never should have had to endure.”
“I didn’t let that stop me from finding love, however,” Beau pointed out. “I was afraid of opening up too, believe me. I was married to my work until I met Marianne. But the right person only comes along once, Annabelle, and I’d hate to see you lose him because of your fear of the past.”
Annabelle sucked in her breath. Her brother, her wise, thoughtful, older brother, was telling her precisely what she needed to hear at precisely the moment she needed to hear it. Just like he always did with all his friends and loved ones. All she could do was nod.
“Have you ever wondered why all these years I haven’t insisted you marry?” Beau asked next.
Annabelle dabbed at her eyes again. “I…I thought it was because I told you I hadn’t yet picked a suitor I wished to marry.”
Beau nodded. “Partially, but I was under no delusion that you intended to pick anyone anytime soon.”
She laughed, though the tears continued to drip from her eyes. “I should have known I wasn’t fooling you.”
“Or Mother, either,” Beau continued. “The truth is we knew you weren’t ready to marry, and we didn’t want to force you.”
“You’ve always been the best older brother, Beau.” She reached over and placed her small hand atop his large one. “I hardly deserve you.”
The side of Beau’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “I don’t know about that. But more than anything, I want you to be happy, Annabelle. Whether that’s with or without a husband. I’ve always felt that way.”
She nodded, pressing the handkerchief to her eyes to dry what she hoped would be the last of the tears. “Thank you, Beau.”
“I won’t force you to marry now, either, but I have to ask. Do you think you could love Elmwood, if you weren’t so afraid of the past?”
Annabelle took a deep breath. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’m frightened, Beau. I’ve never been as strong or as brave as you are.” She hung her head. “I’m a coward.”
“I beg your pardon,” Beau sat up straight, a completely affronted look on his face. “You’re a Bellham, sister dear. You’re no coward, and you never have been.”
She shook her head dejectedly and let her hands drop into her lap again. “I never stood up to Father. I never fought him like you did.”
Beau reached over and squeezed her hands. “Think what you’re saying, Annabelle. You were a child. A little girl. Much younger than me. You were never a match for an adult man. And you never would be. Just like Mother was unable to win against him. It was never a fair fight. And as for you being cowardly, that’s nonsense. You had to run—with blood on your clothing—through the house at all hours of the night to find your governess and ask for help. How many little girls are brave enough to do that? You were frightened of the dark, Annabelle. Yet you still went. Think if you had a little daughter. Would you want her to stand up to a grown man who was swinging a weapon, as Father often was?”
Annabelle felt as if the air had been knocked from her chest. Beau was right. She would never expect a child to fight a grown man. Why hadn’t she been able to think of it that way all these years? She had been brave. She’d gone to fetch Mary time and again in the terrifying darkness.
She took a deep breath, met her brother’s gaze, and nodded. “You’re right, Beau. You’re always right, of course.” She managed a smile.
“Now, I’m going to ask you again. Do you think you could love Elmwood?”
Considering her brother’s words for a few moments, Annabelle took a shaky breath and then blew it out. When she spoke, her voice shook too. “I think I already do.”
Beau knocked his shoulder against hers. “Good, because I mentioned to Elmwood that our father was an abusive drunk and I think he loves you more now than he did before.”
Annabelle smiled through her tears. “I don’t know that he loves me, but I intend to find out.”
Beau regarded her from the sides of his eyes. “It takes courage to lead a full and happy life, you know.”
She nodded, taking another shaky breath. “Yes.”
“And you’ve never been a coward, Annabelle.”
She nodded again before standing and lifting her chin. “I certainly don’t intend to be one now.” Raising her skirts, she rushed away.