Chapter Six
Just as Lord Derrick had informed her the next thing that happened was a series of lessons. All day, every day, Annette was forced to submit to a variety of instructors who had been issued to educate her. First and foremost was her reading, which was preceded over by a charming little man by the name of Mr. Kent. He met with her every morning right after a cup of tea. Though he proclaimed that the Lord had given him expressed permission to flog Annette if she dared to display any form of disobedience he was exceptionally patient. He worked tirelessly with the young girl, coaxing her through the entire alphabet at first and eventually digressing into basic sentence and word structures. A Lady by the name of Madame Francis was her etiquette teacher. She came everyday an hour after Mr. Kent was finished and spent countless days telling her the in's and outs of aristocratic behavior. Under her watchful eye Annette was taught the proper way to sit, how to engage of conversation, which topics a Lady should be expected to discuss, and which utensils to use when dining at dinner parties and banquets. The last of her teachers was Mr. Gregory; a humorless crab who had been hired to teach her piano. Whenever she made a mistake he would rap the cane he used against her knuckles which were still sore and aching from her first night of Blackthorn. The maids taught her needlework, and embroidery. Mandy taught her to draw and to paint. Every waking hour of her life was consumed with lessons, and she despised every single moment of it.
Lord Derrick remarked about her progress quite often. They dined together every night now, and during which time he would force her to mention everything she had learned during the day. Her own relief was knowing that the exhaustion of being shaped and molded by her instructors made her unhappiness about living there just a little less unbearable. She lived in constant fear of her guardian though. Every night she lay awake in dread, waiting to see if he would burst into her room and finally take her. Her virtue was in constant peril, and there was not a single soul in all of Blackthorn who was willing to rescue her. The small ray of hope that she had came from her own desperation. Every time she had a sewing lesson she snuck one strand of thread and tucked it into her sleeve. As the days progressed she collected a colourful array of them in the drawer of her nightstand. They started out as useless junk but when she had enough she began to braid and weave them together, without reason or any rational cause she created a colourful rope. And the only secret that was only hers to know.
Every Sunday he dragged her to church with him, which was where she first laid eyes on some of Lord Derricks aristocratic acquaintances. Though groomed to appear as if she were a presentable young lady they sniffed her out right away as the common rat that she was. Those with a bold streak would sneer at her as she passed by, most however kept their opinions to themselves. Annette had no doubt in her heart that these men and women would have gladly seen her tossed out onto the streets. Her mere presence in their benches as they sung hymns together was offensive to them. It was only the man who accompanied her that kept them docile, though it did not prevent a few from engaging her in patronizing conversation.
They walked together in the garden from time to time but it did not to ease the fiery dislike she carried for him. He kept her as well as she imagined a noble woman might expect but still she found herself peering out her bedroom window and wishing that she could fly far far away from there. All day long, every time she was not distracted by her lessons, Annette was consumed by the desire to escape that man. She hated him much more than she could have described. The fear the he inspired when he entered a room struck her like a stray bullet. She recoiled whenever he approached her, whimpering as she faintly recalled the disgusting way that he had abused her body in the past. In spite of everything, he made no further advances over the following month. Aside from a subtle caress every now and then Lord Derrick kept his distant from the girl. He was however, overly concerned with her daily progresses and as a result she remained alert ans dreaded the very worst from the demon that had her imprisoned.
Mandy was the only one of the servants who willingly talked to Annette now, though she sometimes did so with great hesitation. Over the weeks she asserted herself as the girl primary caregiver, insisting on helping her dress and bathe every single time it was necessary. It was humiliating for Annette at first for she was not quite accustomed to having another woman see her naked but Mandy was very gifted at the art of persuasion. “Besides.” She stated one evening as she was carefully drawing a nice warm bath. “I am the only one who knows how to make a bath that is scented without being stuffy and warm without scalding. ” Annette gave a low sigh as she sunk into the water misty water, inhaling the sharp scent of lavender. She felt a tugging sensation near the back of her head and closed her eyes as Mandy carefully combed her hair, cleaning it with skilled fingers and undoing every single knot that might have gathered in it. As much as she loathed admitting it, Annette enjoyed the soothing feeling of the water. Back when she was a child such a thing had always been rare. Her mother often discouraged her from bathing more than once a month for the simple fact that the effort to draw the water was exhausting. Knowing that she now engaged in it almost on a daily basis now was a mixture of delight and misery to her. When Mandy had finished she stepped back from the tub, allowing Annette to submerge herself beneath to the water for just a few moments.
The sensation of the cool air hitting her face when she came back up for hair was exquisite, and she sighed loudly as she gazed towards the ceiling. She could not see Mandy with her peripheral vision. The silence in the room led her to believe that she was alone, for the maid was quite prone to exiting once she had completed untangling Annette's hair. She knew the girl liked her privacy, and enjoyed the rare occasions when she had some time alone. As she admired the gold trimmed ceiling her thoughts wavered into fantasy. She recalled the theatre she had danced in, bitterly wondering if anyone missed her now. Her Aunt was probably as smug and as satisfied as she had ever been in her life. Being the ambitious creature that she was, Annette reckoned that it pleased her deeply to know that a Lord had bargained for the guardianship of her niece. Would she ever see that woman again? It seemed unlikely. Even if she had been allowed to have her Aunt visit the only thing Annette could imagine herself doing was yelling and cursing at the old woman. She was after all, the sole cause of her own nieces imprisonment in Blackthorn.
She smoothed the hair away from her face as she leaned against one side of the tub, pondering over the issue for some time before realizing that all it was doing was making her angry. Relenting she assumed her relaxation, dozing off multiple times while absorbing the silence which filled the room. When she came back to her senses Mandy had returned by then, carrying a mass of towels in her arms. When Annette stepped out of the tub she assisted in drying her off, chiming that the water had done miracles for her. She wanted to help her redress as well but Annette refused, snatching up the nightgown before any bickering could occur between them. She pulled it on hastily, ignoring the damp spots where her damp hair had touched the fabric. When she had finished she was escorted back to her room much to her own dismay. To keep her from getting in what Lord Derrick refereed to as “unladylike mischief” she was chaperoned almost everywhere that she went. The man had planned things out she granted with a snub of her nose. He was cunning enough to realize that leaving her by herself ran the risk of dramatic race for the front door.
They did not encounter another living soul through their entire journey back into her bedroom which did not bother her in the least. It was later in the afternoon by now, a time when most of the staff was preparing supper or finishing the last of their chores. “It's eerie don't you think?” She heard the maid ask, desperately attempting to engage her in conversation. She nodded her head but remained mute as they stepped inside her room. While Mandy chattered on about what to dress her in for the evening she quietly sat down on her windowsill and glumly looked at the view of the city outside. Some of the taller buildings already had lights shining from their windows. It would be sunset in just a few hours and yet she was already wishing she could fling herself onto the bed and go to sleep. At least her dreams were not plagued by the feeling of imprisonment that her waking life possessed. She dreamt of flying quite often these days. Or of birds and clouds. While Mandy picked out a simply dressing gown to put her in (she had already given up trying to get an opinion out of Annette), she fantasized about sprouting two great big wings.
Eventually the two ended up huddled side by side on the bed, practicing needlework together. Stitch by stitch they passed the time away, exchanging idle small talk and trying to fake being interested in their activity. Mandy was remarkably skillful for her age. Her fingers maneuvered the needle as if it were a fine instrument and Annette found herself sitting motionless and watching her at many points. “How long have you been doing this?” She asked sheepishly, setting her own work on her lap in defeat.
“For as long as I can remember. My mother taught me when I was a little girl. My family was very poor. We needed to have as many hands working as possible.” Mandy confessed with a bitter laugh as if somehow just realizing some depressing aspect of the story. “I practiced day in and day out until it became second nature to me. Before coming here I used to earn my keeping through my needlework skills. But surely you were taught in a similar fashion Annette? You told me your mother was a laundress when you first began to work here...”
“Well yes, of course she was. But she didn't teach me very much in the way of sewing or needlework. I only ever learned the basics. It was cleaning the garments that was passed on to me....” Annette answered with uneasy shrug as she examined her own work. Her stitches were sloppy, and there were a few parts that looked as if they would need to be redone but it wasn't terrible. “My mother wanted me to learn how to dance instead of sewing. She hoped I would earn my keep with my feet instead of my hands. Just like my Aunt used to. She was-” The door opened at that point and whatever she might have wanted to add to her statement was forgotten. A young maid slowly entered the room. Gazing over at the other two women with a hesitant look.
“Forgive me for interrupting my Lady.” She chirped softly while lowering herself into a deep curtsy. Annette's stomach churned with the vague recollection of how that could have been her three years ago She despised the way that the staff addressed her formally now. Only Mandy dared to call her by name these days and even then it was only in private, away from eavesdroppers. “His lordship asks that you join him for dinner now.”
Mandy had already risen to her feet now. Setting her needlework on a nearby end table she turned towards Annette with a complacent smile, looking at her as if waiting to see whether she would put up a fuss or not. Annette refused to change for dinner. Out of spite she wore the simple garment that had been thrown on her after her bath. It snugly draped around her form as she exited her room alone, immediately aware that the Mandy and the other maid had started whispering to each other the very moment she was out of sight. She did not catch what they were saying though she fancied that was concern that occupied their minds. A nasty draft had gotten into the hall now. It made her shiver as she paced across the wooden floor. More than once she considered running, but knew that no matter which path she attempted to take to make her escape that devil would have arranged for members of the staff to be watching over it. With reluctance Annette eventually made her way to the dining room, slamming the heavy doors behind her to announce that she had arrived. He was standing near the tall windows on one side of the room, smiling in that smug way that he often did. As she staggered towards him her eyes focused on the view of the gardens outside. The sky was starting to turn various shades of pink and orange and while most of the flowers had browned and withered most of the trees still looked lush and green.
“Ahhh Annette. It is good to see you.” She heard him say while casually turning his head. It was unintentional but for a moment she met his gaze directly; absorbing the terrifying way that he smirked at her. The dim light of the room made the vast table and countless chairs look sinister. From out of the corner of her eye she noticed the faint glow of several lit candles arranged on one end of the table; their 'usual' spot together. Eating in this place was a grim experience for Annette. She found it lonely. Like trying to picnic in a graveyard. Something about it just seemed a little too depressing to make any meal enjoyable. Being in such ill company did not help the situation.
She made sure to avoid facing him, keeping her body directed towards the window at all times. Though her eyes followed the various birds flying around outside she beheld them with only a vague interest. She could feel him watching her, observing her, absorbing every single one of her movements. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled as a chill seeped down the length of her spine. “Can I ask why you have called upon me so early my Lord? Usually you do not make me come to dinner until night has fallen.”
Lord Derrick shrugged, maintaining a stiff posture as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I wanted to speak to you. That is why.”
“Speak to me about what?” She blinked, breaking her trance-like focus on the outside world. “I did not have any lessons today. There is nothing new for me to inform you about.”
He snorted, laughing at her obvious confusion. “I am quite aware that you did not make any significant progress today. Regardless I am in the mood for conversation. Surely you can grant your beloved guardian with the pleasure of a nice chat?” Her jaw tightened at the patronizing tone of his voice. It reminded her of the way the aristocratic Ladies in church would speak to her. As if they all fancied her an idiot who could not sense when someone was making a mockery of her. The level of arrogance that radiated from such a tone was remarkable.
“Very well my Lord.” She stammered while carefully lifting her chin. “What do you wish to discuss?”
“Well for starters I cannot help noticing that your hair is damp. Did you bathe earlier?” His question made her face go red but she nodded anyhow. Something sparkled in his eyes, frightening her with the possibility that something very immodest had crossed his mind. “You know before you came here I made certain that every luxury would available to you. It took me months to arrange everything. The perfumes that Mandy uses to cleanse your hair were especially difficult. Do you like them? They came all the way from India.” To avoid another condescending remark Annette concealed the fact that she didn't know what 'India' was and had only a vague idea of where it the world it might have been. He clasped his hand around one lock of her hair, twirling it between his fingertips before raising it up to his nose. “Lavender and jasmine petals. So delicate. So feminine. ” A horrible feeling rose in her stomach as she heard him inhale, casually absorbing the scent that now perfumed her body. “It suits you...”
Her throat tightened up, until all that she could muster out of it was a squeaky “My lord?” as she attempted to back away from the man. He held tightly to her hair, smirking when she cried out in agony and tried to wrestled it free.
“Calm yourself Annette.” He scorned her, releasing her hair only after she had ceased resisting him. “When I spoke of wanting a conversation I assure you I meant it. If I wanted to violate you I would have summoned you to my bedroom.” She swallowed a large lump in her throat upon hearing his last statement, marveled by the fact that he passed off the threat as if it were common knowledge. He turned towards the magnificent table behind them, patting the nearest chair with one pale hand as he urged her to sit. She obeyed almost immediately, dreading what he might have told her if she choose to defy him. “I cannot help but notice, also, that you did not dress properly for dinner. You are still in your dressing gown. Such a garment is quite informal. ”
“I did not feel like dressing up this evening my Lord.” Annette explained with her eyes fixated on the table. Candle wax had dripped onto it and though someone had adorned it with an exquisite tablecloth they could not hide the years of hardship it had endured. “I am afraid that as a commoner I am not fully accustomed to the amount of clothing changes that your elite ladies endure everyday. ”
“I am sorry to hear that. But I insist that you abide to the custom. Lest you make the mistake of under dressing when I am having guests over.” He picked at the wax that had dripped onto the table beside him, rolling it up into a little ball. Never once did his eyes leave her. He gazed without blinking, smiling when she looked up and shuddered in response. “Do I make you uneasy Annette? You have not been my servant for a very long time and yet whenever I catch you looking at me you still posses the same petrified expression you had back when you were a maid. Why do you behave as if you are walking over thin ice whenever you are around me? ”
She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, refusing to give him the pleasure of hearing her admit it. Instead she allowed the unusually tense silence that passed between them speak for her. Her eyes darted towards the door every so often, wishing that a servant would come along and disrupt the conversation. He chuckled without shame when he realized the truth, slamming both hands down onto the table so fiercely that the candle holders in front of them rattled. “Honestly Annette, are you so dim that you have lead yourself to believe that every time I demand your presence I am plotting to rape you? Do you really think that I am going to take you over this table like a common whore?”
His words felt like they were burning when they entered her ears. She flushed with embarrassment at the vulgarity of his language. It was not the first time she had heard a man speak with such uncouth but it still disgusted her all the same. “My Lord, you have made it clear that you desire my body. Do you expect me to remain calm at all times after such a threat has been placed upon me? I live every day expecting the worst from you. It leaves me feeling as if I am balancing over the edge of a cliff, without anything to grab onto. I do not know when I wake up in the morning. Whether today will be the day that you destroy the most virtuous part of me.”
He leaned back in his chair, calculating what she had expressed. “I have made it clear that I want you. That is true. But I am not without some dignity and self control Miss Annette. Perhaps a drunkard off the streets would handle a woman with such ill treatment but I am an elite. We are as close to being divine as a human can ever be on this earth. Do you think that I could be so vile?” He rose from his chair, grasping the front of Annette's gown and jerking her up onto her feet, knocking cutlery and toppling over the candle holders in the process. Strangely enough they blew out without much trouble, ceasing her momentary woes of a fire catching on the table. Lord Derrick hissed at her. “You're assumption of me leads me to believe that you aren't quite as pure as you pretend to be.” She cried out in pain, seizing up when he forced her onto the table. She fought tirelessly, clawing at the thick fabric of his jacket with her fingernails and banging her fists against him with all of the force that she could muster. “Is it because you have encountered men of such ill repute? How you allowed the drunks of your theatre to use you?” He pacified her by wrapping one hand around her delicate throat, squeezing down on it to remind her that she had lost this battle. She trembled violently as she felt him unclasp the front of her gown, pulling it aside the reveal the thin fabric of her nightgown lurking beneath.
“My Lord please!” She whined, struggling to catch her breath as a fork dug into her back. “Let me go.”
“I do not know what angers me more Annette; the way that you tempt me with only a subtle quiver of your lips or the fact that you imagine that I am some barbarian that would seek to overpower and brutalize you. If your virtue is intact like you seem to passionately claims then it is a precious feature that shall not be wasted by some fit of carnal lust.” His eyes wandered from her head down to her feet, taking in the details of her body while she wept silently beneath him. Her whimpering got louder when he tried to touch her, and when his lips brushed across her neck and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks she cried out int terror. His grip loosened on her neck, slowly weakening until it would seem that the hand had drifted away, caressing the outline of her body in soft fluid motions. “It would be deceitful of me to imply that I mean you no harm. A woman is always harmed the first time she lays with a man. But I do not intend on trivializing it by making it the product of a violent attack.” As he spoke he resealed the front of her gown, ignoring the tremors that had now consumed her body. “Believe me when I say this to you Annette; you will know when I am going to take you long before it ever happens.”
She imagined that he would have kissed her at that moment. If given leisure Lord Derrick might have done an array of things to her. But even before he'd had a chance to try a loud scoffing noise echoed from the doorway. “So. Is that the little tramp you are keeping locked up in here?” A woman's voice cattily disrupted the moment. He released Annette almost immediately, allowing her ample opportunity to clamour off of the table and escape from the male whom she despised so much. The fork which had dug into her back left a sore tender spot but she shrugged it off with indifference, deciding that it was the least of her worries at that moment.
“It is good to see you too mother.” She heard Lord Derrick state although she could not help but sense that he was being sarcastic about his greeting. She looked up when she had finally recovered, gripping the edge of the table for support.
“Good to see me indeed!” An grey haired woman dressed in navy blue silk approached them suddenly, having been leering near the doorway all this time. She stood firmly in front of him toying with the edge of her gloves and watching the duo with an overtly critical gaze. Her lips pursed tightly together as she removed the wide brimmed hat which had been adorning her head, ignoring the loose feather had tumbled off of it. Like Lord Derrick her posture was stiff than a wooden block and as she removed her gloves and carefully inspected her hands Annette couldn't help but notice that her eyes carried some resemblance to the man who had addressed her. She ignored Annette almost entirely, giving her only one single glance before haughtily looking away. “When I was informed that my son was keeping a woman in Blackthorn whom he was masquerading as being the guardian of I had assumed it might have been some pretty little Baroness whose parents did not put a tight leash onto or a haughty little merchant girl. Not some dirty little rat that you scooped out of the gutter. Who is this little whore you've sullied Blackthorn with? Tell me her name.”
Annette was ashamed of the names that she used to refer to her and bite her tongue to prevent herself from responding to them. Lord Derrick was unaffected by all of it. He did not seem even remotely concerned by the scene that his surviving parent had evidently stumbled upon nor did he show any concern for the brash way that she dismissed the girl. “Annette. Her name is Annette.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, staring at him as if she had smelled something sour. “You've got some nerve to be standing there all confident and smug after the disgusting scene that I just stumbled upon. Have you any idea what manner of gossip your recklessness has sparked?” As if on cue she turned to Annette, looking her up and down before snorting again. “Tell your whore to leave us for a moment. I refuse to discuss important matters around a diseased little urchin.” As if intending to add to this remark she did not address Annette herself, overlooking her as if she were nothing more than a moth that was being shooed back outside.
There was a hollow ringing in her ears when Lord Derrick turned and asked Annette if she would wait out in the hallway. “My mother wishes to discuss personal matters with me.” She nodded, but had hardly paid any attention to his explanation. All she could think about was the critical gaze that his mother directed towards her; haughty and accusing. It made exiting feel like a sigh of relief. But as soon as she closed the door she became aware that she had nowhere else to go. He would need her after they were done. After his mother was finished saying whatever dark secrets she needed to say. Annette was made to stand in the hallway like she had done so many years ago; tip toeing around like a phantom just waiting for her name to be called. All she could think about was what she had been called just now; 'urchin', 'tramp', 'whore', they all repeated over and over inside her mind. She could not shake them off, try as she might. For nobody had ever addressed her with such a malicious tone. And as she stood there, hovering outside the door, she imagined being called 'whore' again and again by the two people inside and cried until her eyes were red.
