Keep My Heart- Prologue

Keep My Heart- 5

Adam sighed as she floated away. There was absolutely no pleasing her. He had not been certain before, but he had the feeling that she still had feelings for Rashleigh. She claimed that she hated him, and she probably did. But she hated him because she loved him, and could not have him. He supposed, in a way, he felt the same for her. She was running after something that would never make her happy, and yet, she had no idea.

Rising from his chair, Adam went out of the dining room, and to the stairs. It was best that he rested for awhile, seeing that he hadn't slept but for that short while. He was terribly tired--and he wondered if Olivia was already asleep. He reached the top of the stairs, and glanced towards her chamber. Company was presumably not welcome.

Things seemed different this time. He knew that he news he had brought obviously added to the tension, but Adam had the feeling that this had to do with more. His wife seemed aloof. Before, she had always been polite and kind and welcoming. Well, at least moreso than she was now.

He walked beyond her closed door, and went to his. The servants were already up, he knew. If he listened carefully he could hear them creeping about in their quarters, not too far away. He wondered if Constance might know something of Olivia's odd behavior.

His chamber was dark and cool. It smelled of clean but unused linens, and flowers. He always returned home to flowers. He supposed that it was just something that she did, to keep everything smelling nice. Adam crossed the room, to the drawn curtains. Pushing them back, he allowed some light into the room. The sun was now fully up, and he was very tired. He would have to get some sleep, if he was going to function enough to take Olivia to a play of some sort that night. He removed his jacket, slipped his boots off. He took care to place them over the edge of his bed, and admired them momentarily.

He stole another glance around the chamber. His hand slid smoothly over his bed post. Yes, everything he had, he had worked for. It made him proud to look around, at everything he had. Hawke's Vale was among the most beautiful of all the homes in Boston. From it's majestic trees, to the grand red bricks of the actual house. The property alone had been quite a fortune, but he knew now that purchasing it had been a wise investment.

Laying down on his bed, he closed his eyes. Many a night, he had slept soundly here, in this house, under this roof. However, he had also spent many sleepless nights there as well. Worrying about his brother, but more recently, his wife. He tried his hardest to be kind to her, and show her friendly care. But, she was so emotionally distraught. Adam wondered how long it would take her to get over the entire ordeal. A part of him hinted that maybe she never would.

It killed him to have her lay next to him at night and know that she vied for another man. Especially when that man had damaged her so badly. And even more so, a man who hadn't taken care of her. A man who was his little brother, who took everything for granted.

Thoughts of Rashleigh's childhood came to him. Trouble, when they had stayed with Aunt Phaedra. Before she and her husband travelled and remained in France. Rashleigh had always been ungrateful. Aunt Phae had tried everything to keep him happy, but he always screamed for more. Adam, he had always been content with little. When the universe was placed at his feet, he asked for a mere star. He grinned sleepily at himself, remembering proudly what he had said to Aunt Phae whenever she asked if he would need help getting on his feet.

"No," a very young and determined Adam had said, "I'm going to make my own world."

And so, when Aunt Phae went away, and they could not go with her, he had done everything he could. The house they had been in...with that horrible man. Adam closed his eyes, and felt the pain afresh in his side. No, he wouldn't dwell on it, because it had been almost twenty years ago. The experience had made him stronger, it had, and definitely made him into a better man.

The only wish Adam had was that Olivia could learn to channel her hurt into somethng useful, the way he had.

He closed his eyes, trying to forget, and knowing all too well that he would remember always. Within a minute, the worn and wonderful Captain Adam Hawke was fast asleep.

It was an hour later when Constance, noticing Olivia was not awake, went to her door, and opened it. She was surprised to see her mistress and friend laying prostrate on her bed, fully dressed. Olivia did not appear to be weeping--but the maid knew of the things that she silently endured.

Constance Louise Havenspee was 25 years old, with thick brown hair, always worn the same way, in a braided bun, flat against her neck. The only irregularity she had were the fringed bangs on her forehead, long and barley out of her eyes. Oh, and her eyes were a pretty blue and she had a pretty smile. She could have been a fine lady. If dressed like one, she could pass for one. Her skin was milky and smooth, although her cheeks could have used a smidge of color.

She had a slight build, and moved gracefully. Olivia often thought of her as a butterfly, small and delicate, and funnily jumping from subject to subject. She was constantly full of good, sound reason, having been born into the family of a clergyman. Her father had devoted his life to the church, along with her mother and two siblings.

But Constance had always wanted something more. Many would have thought venturing off to the country's capitol to be a mistake, but she knew at once that she did not belong in the Yorkshire moors.

And, she had found Miss Olivia Cameron. Olivia, who had been kind and unaware of the way a woman was supposed to treat her servants. Constance thought lovingly of the way her mistress had once been. A happy child, with bright eyes and faith in the man she loved. Exhaling, she thought of the knight in shining armore who had turned out to be nothing but a villian clothed in tin.

"Miss-"

Olivia shot up, and it was then that Constance noticed the new ring on her hand. "He's home, Constance."

She shut the door, and Olivia shifted on her bed.

"Mr. Hawke?"

"Yes, yes...Adam is home. He brought me this," she held her hand out for a millisecond, then pulled it back and rubbed her knuckle like the ring was a leision.

Reading her expression, Constance bit her lip. "Are you not happy that he has returned?"

"I...I don't know. He told me..." She stopped, and looked up as though she was face to face with Satan. "Rashleigh is coming to visit. With Lady Greene. This week."

The opposite woman's eyes grew large, and she felt a sick pang go through her. Rashleigh Hawke had scarred Olivia so severely. And he was coming now, just when things might have started to improve.

"Do you think that you can endure this?"

Olivia looked at her knees. "I do not know. It's just that. Constance, you know almost as much as I do, how much I loved him. He was my everything. And I gave up everything for him. My parents disowned me...for living with a man I was not married to. I was forced to leave the church. Then, how does he return me? By tossing me away like some dirty street urchin."

Processing this, and hearing the angry, hurt tone of her voice, Miss Havenspee swallowed. "At least Mr. Hawke cared for you enough to right the wrongs of his brother, if you mind me saying so."

Suddenly, Olivia's expression changed. "I suppose you're right, Constance, and I don't mind you speaking the truth. It's true. I'm nervous, though...because I know both of these men. I've known them both. One, I loved. He gave me nothing. The other gave me everything I am, though I can't make myself love him, in the way he deserves," she said. She was wishful and wistful, and felt very sorry.

"The thing is, Miss Olivia, you did everything for Mr. Rashleigh. You were good to him, but he's no good! Bad people can't appreciate the affection of good people like you." Even Constance was angry that Rashleigh was coming, and she knew that he would ruin the walls Olivia had tried so hard to build up.

"I suppose. Will you help me change out of this dress? I've rumpled it terribly."

A few minutes later, Olivia was clad in a dress of pale peachy pink. There was an overskirt of cream colored lace. It was sweet and darling and very ladylike. Constance coiffed her hair again, into a simple roll bun, locked in place with pins.

Constance wondered, with a coy and conservative expression, what in the world the mischevious gleam in Olivia's eyes meant.