Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins by Margeaux Laurent

remembered my
vision and hoped that I was incorrect. “Jack?” I asked.
    She shook her head stiffly in reply, “His
name is Gillis Sutphin. He is a wealthy businessman from Virginia.
He has a plantation just near Jamestown. That is all I know so far…
but he is coming to meet me in a month’s time. We may be married
before you and Zachariah are.”
    “What about Jack? I thought that you were
smitten with him?”
    Abigail scoffed at my comment and waved her
hand in the air to banish the thought. “Jack has nothing to offer
me. He is just a boy.”
    “But I thought that you wanted to marry him
and that his family’s status was enough for you?” I asked, hoping
to remind her of her own thoughts and not those implanted by her
parents.
    “Jack’s only potential is to become a print
press like your father. I want to marry someone who can provide me
with the means to which I am accustomed. Not fall into squalor…”
She caught herself before she finished her sentence, but we both
knew how it would have ended—“into squalor like your
family.”
    “My family is well off Abigail. We just do
not feel the need to show it like some families do,” I said through
gritted teeth.
    Seeing my growing anger, Abigail excused
herself. I sat quietly in their enormous sitting room, swirling my
tea and wondering if I could read the leaves. Suddenly, I felt
someone watching me and I looked up to see Mrs. Marthaler in the
doorway.
    I stiffened at the sight of her and expected
to be yelled at for doing something wrong when, to my surprise, she
smiled at me. She then walked over and took Abigail’s seat, sitting
directly across from me she waved for a servant to pour her a cup
of tea. She held the saucer daintily in her hand as she turned her
attention to me.
    “When I was promised to Abigail’s father I
cried for a week straight,” she said. Her sandy blonde hair was
pulled back in a tight bun, and when she spoke, her forehead
pinched and wrinkled as though she was recalling a bad memory.
    I was surprised by her words and did not
know what to say. “Why?” I asked.
    “I was very young. Much younger than you are
now and he was brash and harsh handed. I wanted to marry a boy who
lived down the road from me. We had grown up together, much like
you and Zachariah had, and I loved him dearly. But, my father had
given my dowry to another and the agreement was made. Now, almost
twenty five years later, I sit looking at a girl who wears the same
expression of fear and grief that I once carried.”
    “Zachariah told you of my behavior?” I
asked.
    “No. Zachariah said nothing. But my husband
has told me much of your belligerence toward him and your rejection
of Zachariah.” She took a sharp breath and squinted at me, as
though she was not sure how to word what she wanted to say, “It is
not wise to test my husband’s boundaries. He is a man in a position
of power and the laws the commoners live by do not necessarily
apply to him,” she said quietly.
    My heart pounded at her words, “Is he going
to kill me?” I whispered.
    “No, but he is not above beating you in
public or scarring you for life. You have been acting very well for
the past week and he has noticed it. Please Aislin, you must
continue with your behavior. Do not let your temper or pride force
his hand. He enjoys nothing more than breaking the spirit of those
who dare to defy him.” She looked up quickly when Abigail walked
back into the room and she placed her tea on the table for the
servants to take away.
    “Aislin will stay for an early dinner with
the family and then Zachariah is to take her home,” she said to
Abigail in a cold voice.
    I knew then that my family was not the only
one with secrets. Mrs. Marthaler was not harsh because she hated
me. She was harsh because she hated her life.
     
    ********************
    We had adjourned to Abigail’s bedchamber for
the remainder of the day. It was a large room, that faced the front
of the house. It had a nice sized