Page 10 of ?n Arranged Betrothal with a Blind Duke
Chapter Four
With the afternoon sun sitting lazily along the horizon, Annabelle found herself trudging along the cobblestone pathway, her heart heavy within her chest. Even amidst the confusion of her life, her feet had unerringly led her towards one sanctuary she knew she could rely on - the comforting presence of her dear friend, Penelope.
Their friendship was a well-aged book, each page filled with laughter, shared secrets, and countless afternoon teas. It was a bond not easily broken, but rather, one that offered solace from the unrelenting storm that was brewing within Annabelle's life.
Penelope's manor stood grand and welcoming at the top of a gentle hill, framed by the waning daylight. As Annabelle approached, the mansion’s grandeur did little to intimidate her, instead, its familiar architecture served as a comforting sight. A sense of relief washed over her as the towering doors swung open, revealing Penelope's radiant smile. It was as warm as the hearth in winter, a symbol of their friendship that had remained unchanged over the years.
“Annabelle!” Penelope exclaimed, her green eyes sparkling with warmth. She rushed forward, her hands outstretched to envelop Annabelle's in a reassuring grip. “What brings you here so unexpectedly?”
Annabelle opened her mouth to address her friend. But she choked on the words, her worry and whirling thoughts preventing her from uttering a word.
Penelope seemed to understand at once. She linked her arm through Annabelle’s, ushering her toward the mansion.
“Come, darling,” she said warmly. “Let’s have some tea, and you can tell me everything.”
Annabelle nodded, smiling gratefully at her dear friend as she followed her inside the manor.
The parlor, where they soon found themselves, was cozy and inviting. Its emerald-green drapes let in the warm sunshine, the fireplace crackling with a welcoming warmth. Penelope settled into the high-backed chair opposite Annabelle, a porcelain cup of steaming tea cradled in her hands. She waited, her gaze filled with genuine concern.
The words threatened to stick in Annabelle's throat. The reality of her predicament felt far too daunting, far too real to voice aloud. Yet, she knew she could trust Penelope with the darkest recesses of her heart, just as she always had. Taking a deep breath, she let the torrent of her worries flow free.
“Oswald,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “has plans for me. He intends to arrange my marriage.”
Penelope's gaze flickered with surprise, but she remained silent, encouraging Annabelle to continue. Her friend's unwavering attention served as a balm, allowing her to trudge on.
“That alone unsettles me,” she continued, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Her gaze drifted to the flickering flames in the fireplace, the light dancing within her hazel eyes. “But the recent encounter with the Duke of Thornwood…,” her voice trailed off as she recalled the disquiet that that particular event had sown within her.
Annabelle found herself spilling out the details, the mysterious aura that surrounded the duke, the manner of their meeting and the unsettling fascination he seemed to have held for her. Every word seemed to hang heavy in the air, painting a vivid picture of her inner turmoil.
Her heart was a maelstrom of feelings, oscillating between fear, confusion, and a strange sense of anticipation she didn’t quite understand. Annabelle feared the future Oswald planned for her, yet, she could not quell the curiosity the Duke had sparked within her. The unspoken question lingered between the two women, their expressions mirroring the gravity of the situation.
Her unburdening complete, Annabelle looked up at Penelope, her gaze filled with a mixture of apprehension and hope. Despite the chaos that life had chosen to throw her way, she was grateful. For in this moment, she found solace in the shared silence, the comforting presence of her friend, and the knowledge that no matter what, she wouldn’t have to face these trials alone.
“Annabelle,” Penelope began gently after a long moment of silence. Her voice was soft yet held the comforting weight of wisdom. “I may not have the power to change Oswald's decisions, but remember this; you have strength within you, strength you have yet to fully realise.”
Her words hung in the air like the fragrance of fresh roses, potent and lingering. She was not offering solutions, Annabelle knew, but the assurance she provided was enough to ease the tumult within her.
“You mustn't let yourself be swept away by the current of their decisions,” Penelope continued. “Consider your choices carefully, stand firm in your beliefs. This is your life, your future.”
The words resonated deeply within Annabelle, like the chords of a harp plucked with precision. She nodded slowly, her lips curving into a semblance of a smile.
“Yes, you're right, Penelope,” she said. Her agreement was sincere, and she found herself grateful for her friend's counsel.
But as Penelope's words began to settle, a question rose to the surface of her mind, churning the still waters once more. How could she possibly assert herself against her uncle, a man who held her future in his hands, a man who could mould it as he saw fit? Her heart clenched at the thought. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, with uncertainty haunting her dreams like a relentless nightmare.
When the last drop of tea was gone, and the embers in the fireplace began to dwindle, the hour to depart had come. Annabelle rose, tucking her worries back into the corner of her mind. The hour was rapidly getting late, and the road home awaited.
As she prepared to step into the cool air of the early evening, Penelope pulled her into a warm embrace, the comforting scent of lavender wafting from her friend.
“Take care, dear Annabelle. I will come visit in a few days,” Penelope promised, her voice filled with affection.
Annabelle nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. She stepped into the twilight, the promise of Penelope's visit echoing in her ears, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertain shadow her life was becoming. Her heart was still troubled, the questions still lingering, but she found a semblance of peace in her friend's words, and that was enough, at least for now.
Her heart somewhat lightened by Penelope's counsel, Annabelle headed home via the meadow, a route she had come to love for its tranquil beauty. This verdant oasis, surrounded by tall oak trees, held a serene magic that charmed her, a balm to the clamour of her thoughts.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting tall shadows that danced upon the tall grass as the evening’s cool breeze teased them. The quiet rustle of leaves and the rhythmic song of the birds as they called to each other to bid one another a goodnight before settling in at dark were the only sounds in the otherwise still night. Lost in the symphony of nature, she allowed the serenity to soothe her troubled heart.
Just as she was beginning to find a measure of peace, an excited bark broke her reverie. Annabelle turned, her heart leaping as she recognized the familiar sound. Patches, the Duke of Thornwood’s faithful hound, came bounding towards her, his caramel coat gleaming under the moonlight.
