Page 6 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
Her gaze drifted to the tree. There was the remnant of an old swing that her father had built for her, back when she was little, swinging from a low branch. He had taken her here often, in those days. They would walk side by side and pick apples together before he would push her on the swing. She could still recall the wind whipping her pigtails behind her, as she had soared into the air, imagining that she was a bird with wings.
The swing was old and weathered, now, the rope fraying. For a moment, she saw herself as a little girl, laughing delightedly as she swung upon it, that feeling of pure freedom. There was no way that she could do that now. The rope would break clean away, with her weight, even if she managed to fit herself onto the wooden seat.
All things go, she thought, a trifle sadly, her mood evaporating, just a little. You can never go back to the way that things were.
It was true. She no longer belonged here in her family home. Oh, she knew that her parents would violently disagree with her and claim that this was her home forever if she wanted it to be. But the truth was she had outgrown it, just like the swing. She didn’t want to be a dependent here, aging alongside her parents, as much as she fiercely loved the place. She wanted to carve out her own life.
Only weeks ago, she had thought she finally had the chance to do it. She was ready to become a wife and the mistress of her own home. But that chance had been snatched away from her for good. God had other plans for her.
It wasn’t that she was particularly religious. She believed in God, of course, and faithfully attended Sunday services. She prayed nightly. But the thought of joining a religious order, and taking the veil, had never occurred to her before. She was honest enough with herself to know that she did not have a pure vocation for that life.
But what opportunities were available to women who desired to carve out their own way in the world? Hardly any, particularly for one of her class. Besides, a convent would be like a sanctuary for her. Within its walls, she would be safe from the pain of what lay beyond.
She could dedicate herself to good work on behalf of the needy. It would be a rewarding life, far more fulfilling than attending the tedious rounds of afternoon teas in district homes, on the arm of her mother, whispered about behind hands.
She chewed the apple thoughtfully. Out here, in the wide world, shewould forever be tainted by that scandal, an object of pity. But inside the walls of a convent, she could shed it all, like a snake shedding its skin. She could become herself, once again.
She thought of her parents and how they would react when she told them. She knew they would be opposed to the idea, but she was a woman of five and twenty, after all. She was old enough to make up her own mind about her own life. And they would not stop her, once they saw how determined she was. They probably would not even blame her.
Her father had been true to his word in the ensuing weeks since she had returned here. He had called upon Mrs Blackmore, Frank’s mother, to inform her what her son had done to his daughter, and to try to ascertain if he had been hiding something sinister from them all, that had spurred him on to do what he had done.
Mrs Blackmore had been horrified, weeping copiously, barely able to speak. She had not known anything about why her son would behave in such a way. Or at least, that was what she had claimed.
Her father had hired a private investigator, trying to track where her errant husband was now. But so far, they had not had any success. Frank seemed to have disappeared entirely, fallen off the face of the earth. Hetty didn’t know if she was disappointed or glad that she would never have to confront him again.
It was over. She might never have any answers to what had been done. It was up to her, now, to pick herself up, dust herself off, andcontinue with her life to the best of her capabilities.
She would be a victim of circumstance no longer.
She jumped slightly at the feel of a soft head suddenly falling into her lap. Della was panting hard, her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. Hetty reached down, caressing her, pulling at the long, velvety ears.
“Well, we should get back,” she said, gazing at the dog. “I have reached a decision, Della. And I really shouldn’t delay in telling Papa and Mama.”
The dog gazed at her, with large, limpid brown eyes, for all the world looking as if she was smiling. As if she was privy to the secret that was burning in Hetty’s chest.
They set off across the green field. Hetty tossed the apple core into the distance. Her soul expanded slightly.
She could become the master of her own destiny. She just had to convince her parents that it was a good idea.
***
She arrived back just in time for luncheon, barely having time to wash her hands before she entered the long dining room. Sometimes, if Papa were out, she and her mother would simply eat a quick luncheon in the kitchen, but if he was here, it was always more formal.
“There you are, Hetty,” said her mother, frowning slightly. “Where did you disappear to? I looked out of the window, expecting to see you in the garden, but you were nowhere in sight.”
Hetty suppressed the irritation that rose instinctively in her breast at her mother’s words. Mama meant well, but she wasn’t ten years old anymore. It was yet another reason why she needed to leave and carve out her own life.
You will have more rules and regulations in a convent, said a small voice, in her head.You will not be freer there than you are here.
Firmly, she ignored it. She couldn’t afford to think along those lines.
“I am sorry, Mama,” she said, as she sat down, unfolding her napkin. “It is such a beautiful day, and I felt like stretching my legs. I journeyed to the apple tree.”
Her father smiled indulgently. “Is that old swing still there that I made you all those years ago?”
Hetty smiled, too. “It is, Papa. But it is a little worse for wear now. However, the apples on the tree are as delicious as they always have been.”
There was no further conversation, for several moments, as they commenced eating. Hetty felt her heart start to quicken. She needed to tell them, but how could she bring it up?
