Out of My Grave Read online

  His mustache wiggled over a grimace. “Well, Annalee, that is really up to you. In the end, I will always be behind whatever you choose, Poppet.”

  “But you think I should comply…give up,” I interjected. I couldn’t catch myself. My frustration brought my voice to the surface.

  He stood up and walked over to me. “Now I never said you should comply or give up. I said you should do what you feel is the right decision. You being married would be a comfort. I would know you are safe and protected. I wouldn’t need to worry about you if you were married, but Annalee, if you want to wait until you fall in love and everything is right, I understand and respect your wishes. Do you love Mister MacMurphy?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “No I don’t. Not the way I should.”

  “Then perhaps you should let him know of the misunderstanding.” He smiled, his top lip curling under his mustache as his bottom lip thinned out. Stroking my shoulders, he nodded. “I only want the best for you. I want you to be happy. Your happiness is all that matters to me.” He leaned in, kissed me on the cheek before he turned and headed out of the room.

  I stood alone looking at the floor, feeling the urge to cry. I glanced at the clock though I didn’t even read the time, tears slowly welling up. Instead I sat on the floor as I usually did when I was upset. My eyes darted around, fighting to keep the tears from falling down my cheeks.

  I closed my eyes tightly, thinking about what being married to Dale would be like. Yes, he was sweet, he was intelligent, he was even attractive in the right light. Images swarmed into my head of dinner parties and gatherings with his friends, me being the little wife, sitting pretty and not saying a word except to gossip with the ladies. My head ached just imagining such things, listening to Dale go on and on, caging me away, keeping me locked up in a social prison.

  I sighed heavily as I opened my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks.

  Suddenly I heard feet slamming into the floor as nails scratched along the wood panels. I was unable to get up before my Irish wolfhound, Higgins, barreled through the door, his feet swinging under him, almost unable to keep them functioning properly. He nearly jumped onto my lap, trying to lick at my face, making me smile.

  “Higgins! No! Stop!” I could not help laughing as his tail began to beat off of the floor, wagging happily.

  Higgins was a gift from my father. He was only a year old, but already as big as a small horse. All right, not quite that big, but he was still large for a dog, and possibly crossed with another type of breed. His fur was shaggy and blond, his face expressive, having bushy eyebrows above big beautiful, comforting brown eyes.

  I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him close, feeling the warmth on him still from the sun, smelling the leaves and fresh air on his fur. I roughed up his head before he lay down beside me on the floor. I began to pet him, the motion soothing me.

  The black strand that had escaped my barrette before dangled once more in front of my face, taking my attention away from my present worries and even Higgins. I crossed my eyes staring at the offending wisp and blew it out of my face.

  “Annalee!”

  My attention was brought towards the doorway and I recognized the voice as belonging to Bess, no doubt wanting to start getting me ready for the dinner party later in the evening.

  “No dawdling or day-dreaming please!”

  I frowned and took a big breath in, holding it as I stood up. Higgins stood as well, following me as I moved about.

  I walked out of the room knowing I would need to sacrifice my happiness so others felt comforted and didn’t get hurt. A bittersweet thing because, in the end, I was the one who was unhappy.

  If I had things my way, I would be whisked off by a handsome stranger who would seduce and romance me, take me away from the everyday, normal, boring life. Perhaps an aristocrat…someone from far off, not from London, not even from England. Tall, dark and brooding, handsome, with a voice that made me shiver. I could almost see him, right there, standing in front of me, his eyes sweeping over me, something Dale never did, he never gazed at me lovingly or…lustfully.

  “Annalee.”

  I whipped around to look at Bess who stood in front of me with a disappointed look on her face. I surveyed the area, seeing I was in the hallway outside my bedchamber, beside one of the windows. I had somehow made my way through the foyer and up the round staircase without noticing. Higgins sat beside me patiently, almost smiling, his tail beating off the floor noisily.

  “You were daydreaming again,” Bess frowned as she put her hands on her hips.

  I glanced at the floor and smiled. “I am sorry?”

  She shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I bit my bottom lip yet again as she grabbed my hand and led me into my bedchamber. She closed the door to keep Higgins out, pointing at his nose through the crack. “No Higgins! Stay there!”

  She closed the door and led me over to my bed, placing me in front of the baseboard.

  “Now, do not move from that spot. I’m going to fetch your new gown.” She put out her hand, motioning to me, like I was Higgins, telling me to ‘stay’.

  I frowned and rolled my eyes. She frowned back before walking out of the room, not catching me sticking my tongue out as I turned towards my bed. Rather childish of me to do so, but the act made me smile nonetheless.

  My bedchamber was small in comparison to others in the manor. My wooden four poster bed with satiny blue drapes took up the majority of the space. My vanity stood parallel, on the other side of the room in between the door on the right and the changing screen on the left. On the wall behind the changing screen was the window with a view of the side of the house to the yard and fountain. My dark wooden wardrobe, filled with all my shoes, hats and gowns was on the opposite wall to the vanity. Everything was lightly decorated, blue and gold, some silver, delicate and feminine, as a young lady like myself should be.

  I sighed heavily as I sat down on the end of the bed by the footboard, my gown blending into the blankets, being the same offset blue. Everything was so boring, so dull. Don’t misunderstand—blue is a lovely color, but cold, uninspiring and not bold. Blue—to my mind—is a color which goes unnoticed for its lack of excitement. Such a static, boring choice.

  Everything was the same as that blue gown. There was no change in my life, nothing that satisfied my want for excitement, to be bold.

  Every day was the same routine. Bess would wake me, dress me and bring me down for breakfast with my father, who would dash out afterward to work. Then I would walk around the manor aimlessly, occasionally reading in the library or sitting by the fountain out in the back, playing with Higgins, possibly doing some embroidery or playing cards.

  Most days, Dale would come by and bore me for an hour and then I was back to wandering around, unless my father arrived home early, then we would play a game of bridge until supper was ready.

  I smiled, thinking of our bridge games, something we had done since I was a little girl. We would always sneak some milk and one of my father’s expensive chocolates. If Bess ever found out, she would wring both of our necks. I felt my eyes well up once again, my memories somehow paining me.

  “Well there is no winning with you it seems,” I said aloud. “You leave and enjoy some sort of excitement and you miss your family. You stay with your family you miss out on the excitement you crave so badly…stupid girl.” I shook my head while rubbing under my eyes, my face.

  I stood up and walked over to my window, staring down to the vast acreage my father owned. The yard with our generous fountain as a centerpiece, stretched out towards the forest and meadows to a wilderness beyond where I escaped the normal world into my own.

  I continued to stare until I felt a hand on my shoulder, startling me as I suddenly whipped around, facing Bess.

  “Oh! Bess…you scared me half to death! Don’t do that!”

  Bess shook her head as she tried to catch her breath, being startled herself. “I thought I told you to sta
y over by the bed?”

  “So I cannot stand up and walk over to my own window in my own bedchamber?”

  I walked past her to the end of the bed where a box sat, no doubt holding the gown I would be wearing to the dinner party later on in the evening. That was something else Bess enjoyed—buying me expensive gowns, the latest styles. She never listened when I said I didn’t care for them.

  “Now, I told you not to take an attitude with me, Annalee. Such behavior is unbecoming in a young lady.”

  She walked up behind me, pushing me gently out of the way and opening the box, pulling out a breathtaking pink and gold lacy ball gown. The puffed shoulders had a Renaissance feel to them, topping the long and straight sleeves to the wrists. Flat gold braid edged the square-cut neckline, and continued down the open robe of the gown and the hem. The petticoat was a simple, darker pink silk, complimenting the swirling silver brocade designs and lighter shade on the rest of the gown. I noticed the white embroidery on the stomacher, which had also fallen out of fashion, but adored it nonetheless.

  I gasped. “Oh my, Bess. What a beautiful gown!” I put my hand out and grabbed some of the material, stroking the smooth pink silk. There was nothing boring about this gown. “I cannot wear that tonight. The gown is far too formal for the occasion.”

  She scoffed as she put the gown back in the box. “This is not the gown you will be wearing tonight. It is your costume for the masked ball at the end of the week. Your father’s business associate, Professor Richards, is hosting the ball. I still need to get your mask from town. We can go shopping tomorrow, but I thought I would show you. Lovely, isn’t it? I picked it out meself. Of course, you can pick the mask.”

  I watched as she grabbed the box and placed it on the small floral bench in front of my vanity.

  “Oh, the masked ball. That should be fun?”

  “Well, you always liked masked balls. You always enjoyed dressing up in beautiful gowns. Now, tonight you will wear your blue gown, I should think.” She held up the familiar clothing, the soft material poking out from under her hands from the robe à l’Anglaise.

  Blue. Of course.

  I nodded as she walked over and began unfastening the gown I wore—not the same shade of blue, but still blue nonetheless—also the same style, with an open robe, a pretty white silk petticoat beneath.

  I stood, motionless, used to the tugging and pinching, as she undressed and re-dressed me.

  Bess was right. I did indeed like masked balls, mainly because you were not yourself. I loved the thought of being someone else, of not being trapped in my own dismal world. Of course, I always felt somewhat ungrateful. After all, my father was quite wealthy, providing me everything a young lady could ever possibly want or need, keeping me well-educated and as refined as possible. Most wouldn’t complain if they were as well off as I was, but honestly I would give everything up, be poor and homeless if I could only be able to live my own life, the way I wanted.

  Chapter Two

  Dinner at Mister Sean Pertrew’s

  I decided the best way to bear the evening ahead of me was to prepare myself. I couldn’t really remember getting ready. I was in a daze, thinking about everything and over-analyzing my entire life. I tried to push those feelings aside, the dinner party being my main focus, deciding I needed to take everything one step at a time. If I didn’t think about the future too much, perhaps I would be able to cope in my current situation and perhaps even find a way to escape.

  I blocked out everything and tried to concentrate on the things I could talk about at the party, anything really to keep my mind occupied. That’s when flashes came to mind of the last dinner party Sean Pertrew held.

  That was the party where I had overheard some of his guests spinning rumors about me, gossiping. The event happened three weeks before, but the hurtful memory of the night stayed with me. I had gone home that night and cried, their hurtful tales striking a cord. That was the moment I realized how truly unhappy I was.

  People I thought were my friends actually thought quite lowly of me, lying about me, talking about me and not even having the nerve to directly say it to me. That was the night I realized I was alone. Before that night I think I was content with how things were. I somewhat enjoyed going to dinner parties, going out and being around my so-called friends. They weren’t exciting events, but some way to break the normal routine. I had even enjoyed being in Dale’s company. But all that changed and now I was bitter about everything.

  I kept my eyes ahead of me in the small cabin of the carriage, Dale sitting across from me and annoyingly bouncing his leg, looking about until our eyes met. He smiled at me. I knew he had changed into a new suit, but it was the same color as earlier, a light blue. He always seemed to annoyingly match me.

  My gown was a soft blue robe à l’Anglaise, an open robe with a matching petticoat, long sleeves cutting off at my wrists, a fichu around my shoulders and tucked into the bodice.

  Stomachers had fallen out of fashion. Too formal, too like the famous French fashions. The front was smooth, fastening with hooks on the left side, a seam visible, but not unbecoming. A moderate sized bum roll under the petticoat fastened at the front, making the gown puff out quite a bit at the back, but slimming down the front. The silhouette was interesting. A thick violet sash accentuated my waist, tied in a bow at the back.

  I smiled back halfheartedly, dreading the entire night. I wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Dale’s horribly boring tales from his architectural studies delivered in the most serious way or Sean’s uninteresting stories about his collection of new suits I was looking forward to the least. I frowned as I felt a sick knot in my stomach, the coach coming to a halt.

  “Are you all right, Annalee? You seem upset by something.” Dale sat forward as he surveyed my expression.

  I smiled halfheartedly again. “I was wondering…tonight could we not say anything about the…proposal?”

  “Why?” He cocked his head, confused.

  “I just…I do not want such a big fuss, especially since I have not quite adjusted to everything yet. Just for tonight? Please?”

  He smiled and nodded. “All right, for tonight.”

  I hadn’t told Dale about the last experience I had at the dinner party and I didn’t plan on informing him. The more I thought the more I was convinced that, though we did not have much in common, Dale was only a good friend. He was a good friend to everyone. However, I still did not feel comfortable telling him of my fears, of things that upset me. I didn’t feel comfortable letting him know I was unhappy.

  Dale was not the only one. I actually had not told anyone except my father of those events, of my feelings in general. He was the only person I felt I could honestly trust and who cared about me. He never had any other motives when he spoke to me, not like most others. He never had any other thoughts about me—I was just his Annalee, his little poppet.

  Dale seemed somewhat off-put by my request, but he appeased my decision nonetheless.

  The door to the carriage swung open and Dale’s driver, Alfred, stood to the side awaiting us to exit. I took a deep breath, holding it for a moment as Dale got out, somehow almost missing the bottom step and catching himself on his own feet.

  He stood up quickly, adjusting his frock coat before he put out his hand, ready to help me out, as a gentleman should.

  I grabbed hold of his hand and began my decent until I stopped, looking down the street under the stone bridge.

  Underneath, in the shadows, a tall, shadow-cloaked young man stood over a young woman. I say ‘stood over’ because of how tall he was. She seemed to shrink in his presence.

  His eyes must have swept over her as he raised his hand as if to stroke her cheek, but never actually let his hand touch her skin. I couldn’t see his face, but I could make out his figure, which was very unlike Dale’s. He was thin, yet had strength, as if confidence held him up.

  I could make out his hair, which was long in regards to the fashionable men’s hairstyles. It fel
l beyond his shoulders, gathered neatly and tied back with a thick ribbon, the ends curling in.

  I didn’t recognize him at all, which is quite interesting. I had met all the aristocrats in the area or, at least I thought I had. Up until three weeks ago I was quite active in society.

  I continued to stare, watching, as he seemed to speak to the young woman, making her blush and smile timidly, the light from the streets casting on her.

  “Annalee?” Dale turned, looking over towards the bridge. “Is something wrong?”

  My eyes went from Dale and then back. The young man and lady were gone.

  I shook my head, pointing faintly. “There was…oh, nothing. Nothing at all.”

  I smiled as he helped me down, my feet hitting the ground as I pulled the petticoat up. As my head came up, I had to brush a little piece of hair out of my face. It was still popular to have your hair short, curled thickly around your head with little pieces hanging down or formed into rolls. My hair would not hold a curl no matter how short or long, so I usually kept it long. Bess would have a part down the middle, twisting pieces in until the back where she usually did some intricate pile of hair. Little strands always escaped though.

  Dale put his arm out, guiding me around the carriage as Alfred got up top and drove away.

  I watched with dread as my means of escape galloped away. But, surprisingly I wasn’t as upset as I thought I would be. I continued to stare over my shoulder back at the small bridge, still not seeing the young man or the young lady, who were still present in my thoughts.

  “This should be a pleasant evening,” Dale said as we walked over to the door of the Pertrew manor, ringing the bell. The first person I dreaded of the night came to the door, answering himself instead of his usual servants.

  “Ah, if it isn’t Miss Annalee Harding and Mister Dale MacMurphy!” Sean’s voice was annoyingly deep, very snobbish.