Page 19 of Snowed-in with Scandal
Dorcas’s face crumpled with obvious distress. “Oh, miss, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. But he said... he said you were feeling poorly and needed to rest, and that I wasn’t to let you leave your room until he could speak with you proper.”
So she was indeed a prisoner. Arabella rose unsteadily from the bed, testing her balance. The drug had left her weak but functional, though her thoughts still felt somewhat clouded.
“Miss, you shouldn’t—” Dorcas began, but the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor cut her short.
“Ah, Dorcas! I see our guest has awakened.” Algernon’s smooth voice filled the doorway as he appeared. “Thank you, my dear. You may go now.”
“But sir, shouldn’t I stay to help?—“
“That won’t be necessary.” His tone brooked no argument, and Dorcas fled with obvious reluctance, leaving Arabella alone with her captor.
“How are you feeling, my dear Arabella? I do hope the rest was refreshing.” He moved into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click that sounded ominous in the silence.
“What do you want from me, Algernon?” Arabella demanded, proud that her voice remained steady despite her fear.
“Want? My dear cousin, I’ve spent the afternoon ensuring your future comfort and security. Such a burden it must be for a delicate lady to manage all those tedious financial matters—the rents, the tenant concerns, the endless paperwork.” He moved to the writing desk near the window and gestured to a stack of official-looking documents. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing some papers that will relieve you of such worldly concerns.”
Arabella put her hand to her throat. “What sort of papers?”
“Simply documents that grant me the authority to collect the rents and manage the income from your inherited properties. Think of it as... a stewardship arrangement. You’ll receive a comfortable allowance, naturally, but the day-to-day management will be in more capable hands.”
“My hands are perfectly capable, thank you.”
“Are they?” His smile was like a razor. “Even when those hands have committed forgery? Perjury? When they’ve signed false documents and sworn false oaths?” He pulled the familiar papers from his waistcoat—her crimes laid bare in black and white. “I wonder what the magistrates would make of such... capable hands.”
Arabella felt the walls closing in around her. “You can’t force me to sign anything.”
“Force? My dear lady, I would never dream of it. However, I feel I should mention that your brother James has been making quite a stir in London. Declaring the evidence he wishes to present, demanding hearings, insisting on his innocence.” Algernon moved closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Such strange behaviour for someone who received merely a slap over the wrist for a couple of irregularities. Yet now he seems to wish the world to know that he’d donenothingwrong.” He sighed as he tapped his waistcoat. “It would be such a pity if these documents found their way to the authorities just as he’s trying to clear his name. The scandal would destroy him utterly.”
“You’re despicable.”
“I’m practical. You see, my dear, inheriting the estate is one thing—but maintaining it, paying the debts, keeping up appearances... that requires significant income. Your third of the inheritance is precisely what I need to make this arrangement work for all of us.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then James hangs for his original crimes, and you hang beside him for perjuring yourself and for forgery. Such a tragic end to a once-noble family.” He pulled out the documents with a flourish. “Or you can sign these papers, ensure your brother’s safety, and live comfortably on the allowance I provide. It’s quite a generous proposal, don’t you think?”
Arabella stared at the papers, her mind racing. She was trapped—utterly and completely trapped. If she signed, she would be financially dependent on Algernon’s mercy for the rest of her life. If she refused, both she and James would face the gallows.
“I need time to consider?—”
“I’m afraid time is a luxury we don’t have. Your brother’s hearing is scheduled for three day’s time. Just enough time for a fast rider to deliver them to their destination.” He shrugged eloquently.
With trembling hands, Arabella approached the desk. The documents had clearly been prepared by someone with legal knowledge. The few clauses she could read through her tear-blurred eyes seemed designed to strip her of control.
What could she do? Despair washed over her. Nicholas would never know the truth now. He would go to his grave believing she was exactly what Algernon had told him—a calculating woman who chose wealth over love. He would never understand that every choice she’d made, every sacrifice, had been born of love and loyalty.
She had saved James from the gallows only to deliver herself into a different kind of prison. And the man she loved—the only man she had ever truly loved—believed her to be a mercenary creature unworthy of his affection.
“Come now,” Algernon said softly, producing a pen. “It’s not such a terrible fate. You’ll have your cottage, your allowance, your books and music. Many women would dream to enjoy such a comfortable situation.”
Comfortable. Like a bird in a gilded cage, fed and housed but never free.
Arabella reached for the pen, her heart railing. But what could she do? Clearly, this was her destiny—to sacrifice herself again and again for those she loved, never to know true happiness herself.
“There now, my dear, so good you’re seeing sense at last?—”
As her fingers closed around the pen, a commotion erupted from somewhere below—the sound of carriage wheels on gravel, voices raised in urgent conversation, the heavy tread of multiple feet approaching the front door.
