An Illicit Romance

An Unresolved Conflict

An Unresolved Conflict

Annabelle's POV

I stared blankly as Mother continued chatting with her friends. There was no pain, sadness, or any other negative emotion in her face as she listened to Francesca's musings on how well the weather had been these last couple of weeks. How could she act so normal? Her own son had been missing for months and it was as if she felt nothing. I kept looking at her, waiting for a sullen gaze or some sadness in her eyes but there was nothing. It was as if he'd  never left. As if he'd never been her child. Nothing had changed in this house. Father was barely here as always and Mother's interests returned to hosting pretentious gatherings for her so-called friends. 

"Annabelle! Oh, Annabelle!" I could hear one of mother's friends calling me. Rolling my eyes,  I broodingly approached her. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Why must you sit there moping all by yourself when you can join us?" She patted on the seat next to her. 

I couldn't help but crinkle my nose at the thought of engaging in such dreadful conversation. "No, thank you ma'am." 

She patted the seat again. "Please sit. You can help us plan the next social gathering."

"Thank you but I'd rather not." Before I could even turn away, mother pulled my arm, forcing me to sit down. Francesca, noticing the arising tension, quickly changed the subject. "So, Annabelle, I've heard that you'll be holding an art exhibition next week. I didn'trealise you had such talent!"

I smiled, grateful for the change in conversation. "Yes, on Friday. Only a small few of the art works belong to me, however. Most belong to my-"

"So when would you want me to hold the gathering? Thursday?" Mother quickly interrupted me as soon as she realized what I was going to say. The women in the room looked nervously at each other, almost as if they were embarrassed. What did they have to be embarrassed about? It wasn't as if their families were being torn apart.

"Thursday is no good for me," said Elizabeth. She was one of Mother's cousins and had only arrived yesterday. "But I'm interested in those paintings your daughter's displaying. If they're not yours, whose are they?" She wasn't even aware of what had happened. 

"Elizabeth, that's of no importance. Now can we-"

"They're Daniels." I muttered.

Silence swept the room almost immediately. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mother's fists clench. I didn't dare look at her.

"Ah, Daniel," Elizabeth continued, completely unfazed by the uncomfortable silence. She looked around. "I say, where is that boy? I'm sure he should be back from his trip by now."

I slowly got up, trying to leave unnoticed.

"What is the matter with your daughter, Margaret?" one of the women asked. Mother laughed nervously. "I can assure you, Annabelle's just-"

"She's always been a little strange. I'm wondering how she'll get husband with such a sullen attitude." This made me walk faster. This was a conversation I was not prepared to get into. "Melanie has already become engaged! And at such a young age!" I paused. "What do you mean engaged? To whom?" 

"Well," Mother started to speak. "Our dear friend, Melanie, has accepted the proposal of Lord Woodhouse." Mother spoke proudly, as if Melanie was her own daughter. I rolled my eyes. It was obvious that Melanie was purely interested in the money Lord Woodhouse had to offer. Sure, he was twice as rich as Daniel but he was also three decades older than her. "That was quick." I muttered not quietly enough for mother to not hear me. 

"That's because, unlike you, Melanie knows the importance of marriage," She got up. "For God's sake, Annabelle, you're nearly twenty-five. This behaviour of yours cannot continue!" She said, almost shouting. 

"It can and it will," I snapped. "I'd rather be married at fifty than have a marriage like yours!" I stormed upstairs without look at her. I knew I'd  hurt her, but I didn't care. I knew I was acting like a child, but still, I didn't care. I couldn't care.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Margaret's POV

"Don't treat me like this, Henry-"

"What do you want me to do? Our daughter has gone off the rails!" He paced up and down the room, clutching his cup of gin. "Married at fifty." His face wrinkled in disgust as the words came out. "Where does she learn such nonsense?!" 

I squinted at him. "I do wonder where she gets such ideals about marriage from."

He stopped walking and turned to face me. Fear ran through me. "Be careful, Margaret," he pointed at me with his free hand. "Be very careful." He ran a hand through his grey hair and sat down on the bed. We spent, what felt like hours looking at each other. I began to feel that familiar feeling of longing as I gazed at him. Where did it all go? I was almost certain that we were happy once. 

"Henry," I crawled next to him. "I'm so very sorry." He sighed, facing away from me. I turned his face towards mine. "You must understand. Our son-"

"I don't have to understand anything!" He interrupted harshly, slapping my hand away. "And don't mention that boy to me. Not after what he did." He gulped the gin and slammed it on  the counter. How could he turn his feelings off like this? He'd always favoured Daniel over everyone else. Over Annabelle. Over me. "Daniel has gone. With that woman.  Nothing more needs to be said," He sighed. "Why did you even ask me to come here?" 

"Henry, this is your home!" I placed me hand on his. He quickly moved it away.

"Oh please," He scoffed. "This is no home. We don't even have a family anymore."

"We never did." I mumbled quietly, wondering if he could hear me. He continued staring at his empty cup of gin. "Where do you go when you're not at home?" I asked, regretting it after. 

"You don't need to concern yourself with that." He snapped. He could leave for months and return as if he'd never left. I had wondered many times if he was having an affair. Such a thing wouldn't surprise me. I got off the bed and walked to the mirror. Of course he's having an affair, I thought to myself. Sure, I was beautiful once. He'd commented on such many times when we were young. My eyes ran all over the deepening lines marking my face. I could see him watch as I traced them with my hand. I walked towards the bed, holding his gaze. I sat as close to him as I could. Unlike before, he didn't try to move away. Instead, he lifted my face to his and kissed me. I could briefly taste the bitter flavour of gin before he pulled away. He got up and put on his coat without looking at me. 

"Henry." I called.

He didn't answer. He ran a comb through his hair and left silently. I sat back facing the wall, wondering how things became so bad.