Page 54 of Anastasia and the Duke
"I said, get off," Sidney cried again, this time dropping the sack he held and lunging for her.
Hannah's breath was forced from her body, as Sidney's weight sent them both crashing to the ground. She struggled to remove herself from under him, but he was too heavy.
"Insolent little witch," Sidney whispered, as his hands clasped around Hannah's neck, "I wish that you had burned in that ruddy fire."
Hannah did not know what he meant, nor was she in a position to ask. She felt dizzy, as Sidney squeezed the very life from her, and her vision was fading fast.
The last things that Hannah wondered, before she succumbed to darkness, was where on earth Sidney had found the key to the safe and why, as the world was fading to blackness, did she hear the sound of Hawkfieldâs voice?
Her throat ached. As she blinked her eyes open, Hannah longed to close them again against the pain of it.
Water, she thought, as she scrambled to sit up, she needed water.
As she moved, a soft cry sounded from nearby, and a warm hand reached out to her.
"Do you need a drink?" Lady Lansdowne whispered, as she leaned over to peer down at Hannah.
"Please," Hannah croaked, and a cool glass of water was almost instantly delivered to her hand.
As Hannah sipped on it and felt her throat soothed, her mind began to make sense of the world. She was in Grosvenor Square, in her old bed, and the last thing that she recalled was...
"Sidney," she gasped, turning to Lady Lansdowne, "What happened?"
The countess frowned, as though she did not want to disturb Hannah with dark tales, but she sighed as Hannah stared up at her with pleading eyes.
"You ran off," Lady Lansdowne began, her tone reproachful as she recalled it, "And Gareth went off to fetch the footmen. I was making my way up the stairs, to make certain you were alright, when the Duke of Hawkfield came crashing through the front door."
"He did?" Hannah asked, barely able to believe it.
"He did," the countess confirmed, a smile playing around her lips, "He barreled on ahead of me, and by the time I reached the bedchamber, he had knocked that nasty Mr Pritchard unconscious. You, unfortunately, had already been harmed. Oh, when I think that I could have lost you again..."
Lady Lansdowne began to sob softly, and Hannah reached out to take her hand.
"I don't understand," Hannah eventually said, once the countess' sobs had receded, "How did Sidney have the key to the safe? I thought you gave it to Anastasia?"
"I did," the countess dabbed at her cheeks with her handkerchief, "I gave it toyou, Hannah, and when Sidney found you and that Nancy woman in Paris, all those years ago, he took it from you. He must have thought it would be worth something, so he held on to it."
"I..." Hannah began, but she trailed off in confusion. None of this made sense; was Lady Lansdowne trying to tell her that she was Anastasia de Bonneval? It wasn't possible. She was Hannah Smith, nobody. Worse than a nobody, in fact, she was an undesirable.
"You are Anastasia," Lady Lansdowne repeated, her eyes holding Hannah's as she tried to convince her, "Hawkfield discovered as much, when he spoke to Nancy. Sidney having the key merely confirmed the story. You are my granddaughter; returned home at last."
Home.
Hannah had always longed for such a place, and as Lady Lansdowne embraced her once more, Hannah finally felt it. Even as her fuzzy brain tried to discern what it all meant--what had Hawkfield spoken to Nan about?--she still felt a sense of peace.
"Is Hawkfield here?" Hannah asked, as Lady Lansdowne finally released her, "I don't fully understand--I would like him to explain to me."
The countess frowned, though she did nod.
"He's downstairs in the library, pacing the floor and drinking all my brandy," she said, with a mild note of disapproval in her voice, "He refused to leave until he knew you had woken up."
Hannah made to get out of bed, but the countess waved her back in.
"I'll send him up to you," she said, pulling the quilts up to Hannah's chin, "And I shall send Gibbons with him; let him know she's handy with a fire-poker, should he get be overcome by any strange urges."
"I will," despite her inner turmoil, Hannah smiled at the idea of Gibbons tackling an arduous duke.
After a few minutes of anxious waiting, Hawkfield appeared at the door, his handsome face creased with worry.
