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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Green eyes stared down at her, and a hand was held out to her. “Come, lass,” the man said in a smooth, loving voice, and Amelia’s heart swelled with love and desire as she clasped her hand inside his. He lifted her from her seat and pulled her to him, their lips and bodies meeting at the same time. The kiss was gentle, soft, and almost shy of too much passion. But, then he pulled away, and held Amelia out a little from him and looked into her blue eyes. “I love ye, Amelia Parker.” Amelia’s heart flipped, and she felt her happiness soar into the sunlight, but then, she felt a tug on her hand. She looked down to see a different hand, attempting to pull her from Jamie’s grasp. It was cold, clammy, yet persistent. It tightened around her fingers to the point of pain, and Amelia gave a small yelp as the hand eventually removed her from Jamie’s grip. It turned her to face the owner of the hand, and she saw the toothy, greasy smile and bright red hair of Donald Kinnaird. Despite the smile, his face was almost twisted into a grimace, and it seemed to enjoy the pain he had inflicted on her. “Come, lass.” Donald said, and Amelia could feel her power leaving her and following the demon to her unknown fate. She turned back to see Jamie’s face turn pale, and then he faded into mist. Amelia screamed out, “No!”with such force that it awoke her from her dream.
She lifted herself up from the chair to stare at the dim surroundings. Bedroom, mother, illness. Slowly, she began to realize it was only a dream, and yet, there was something familiar about it. Suddenly, the realization hit her. Her marriage to Donald. It was to completed this very evening. Her stomach nearly heaved at the thought of such an act, but as she stared at her mother, whose color had returned to a healthy glow, she smiled. Her sacrifice would be worth it. Her mother could live in peace and happiness.
She rose, knowing it was before midnight for Sophie had not yet woken her. But, the seat across from her, normally occupied by Marianne, was curiously empty. She called out to Sophie who entered the room obediently.
“Aye, miss?”
“Sophie, where has Marianne gone? Was she not to watch my mother while I was away at the church?”
Sophie looked nervous, and she shifted from foot to foot. She mumbled, “Miss Marianne told me tae tell ye that she wanted tae be of service tae ye in this wedding. So, she took the lantern out tae find greens to adorn yer wedding with.”
Amelia looked confused. “In the dark? That seems quite ambitious. Did she say when she would return?”
Sophie shook her head. “Nay. She said she will meet ye at the church when the time comes.”
“I see...will you and Margrete watch mother, then, while I am away? I shall not be too long, I do not believe.” She was relieved, slightly, that Marianne would not fight her on her decision. She had expected a lot more resistance from her longtime friend, but maybe Marianne fully understood her side.
She had no time to worry about it. She must prepare for the wedding and think of how to make sure she received everything she needed in this new contract with Donald. She did not want to be fooled again.
She stepped into the hallway to gaze into the looking glass. Her hair was passable but could use a few adjustments. Her dress would work, but she knew that Donald would make a fuss if she was not appropriately dressed for a wedding. He would find any way to prolong her torture; of that she was constantly sure.
So, she searched in her mother’s belongings for a dress more appropriate to a wedding day. She found one, made with white linen. Perhaps white would satisfy Donald, but it would not be truthful, for she had given her maidenhead to Jamie. She was no longer a virgin, but she would need to fool Donald to get the money.
She called for Sophie once more to assist her with dressing. Marianne did not return during this time, and a tingle of fear came into her mind, but her friend was wise. She would meet her at the church. It took almost a half an hour to dress and prepare. Sophie pulled an extra plaid out from the bedroom to give Amelia to wear.
“Good luck miss.” Sophie said behind her as she stared at herself in the looking glass. A few months before she had stared into this very spot, a dirty and lonely woman, broken down by life’s tragedies and the errors of men. Outwardly, she looked lovely, ready for a simple wedding ceremony. But inwardly, her tears threatened to spill out onto her cheeks, and she felt a rage towards the world. It was so unfair. All her problems had come at the hands of men. Foolish men, greedy men, or selfish men. Was she never to have control of her own life and the way it went?
She attempted to assuage the ache that built up in her chest. She nodded to herself. Once she left Donald, she could make her way in the world however she chose. Maybe she could live off her writings? She smiled slightly, and that future potential dream kept her from running, away into the wild in search for that freedom right then. She must do her duty and marry Donald, to achieve her goal of saving her parents. She was bound to this, and then, she could go.
Amelia turned away slowly, and gathered up her skirts, her resolve building with each step towards the door.
Once she reached the threshold, she turned back to Sophie, and said “Thank you, Sophie. I will be back later this evening.”
Sophie curtsied, and Amelia shut the door behind her as she walked out into the dark night.
* * *
Marianne could have screamed again in frustration at the sight of this cad. She was breathing hard from her long journey, she was dirty, and her hair was hanging loosely about her, and she had been foiled in the achievement of her noble goal at the last minute.
William, seeing this, replied, “Have ye come for one last look at me before yer departure, lass? Ye are only human, after all.” He chuckled before taking another puff from his pipe.
Marianne would have loved to reply with more wit and ire, but she simply yelled, “We have not time for your scoundrel-like impertinence, Mr. Fraser! I have a pressing emergency that needs to be shared with Jamie! If he has not yet returned, then we must send someone to find him!”
William’s expression changed into concern. He grasped her arm, “Is it Amelia? Is it her Mother? Is someone hurt?”
Marianne looked down at his arm, and then back at his face. What a change from the caddish demeanor from before. She softened her voice. “No, no, no one is ill or hurt, but Amelia is about to make a disastrous decision. She is about to marry Donald Kinnaird, and we must stop her! I could not, but I know Jamie could.”
William’s eyes widened at the realization of her words. He fumbled in his pocket for the gate key, and then swung it open to let her inside. “Come! I will take ye tae him. He has returned.”
They rushed for the door, and heaved it open, entering the empty main hall. Marianne lowered her voice to a whisper. “I do not want to be caught by the very devil himself. We must move quietly through the house.”
“Donnae worry, lass. I would take care of him, if we did come across the bastard.” Marianne turned to see an angry defiance on William’s face, and smiled to herself. They hurried up the dim corridor and up the stairs and paused at Jamie’s room. William pushed it open, but Jamie was not inside. William swore, and then pounded out of the room, pulling Marianne along with him. The stopped next at the library, and entered to find a dozing Jamie, whiskey glass in hand, sitting before a crackling fire.
“Jamie!” Marianne called, and Jamie briskly awoke, nearly spilling his glass into the flames. He stood up, drowsy but with concern. “Marianne! What is the matter?”
Marianne swallowed, trying to catch her breath once again, and she motioned to William to continue. “Amelia has decided tae marry Donald, lad. And Marianne says she has tried tae stop her, but tae no avail. Ye must go!”
