Trapped & Liberated Read online

  Certainly, there was nothing wrong with being prepared…even if that situation one had prepared oneself for would never arise. If it gave his father peace of mind, Antoine would promise to do as he was bid. Still, in his heart, he knew that nothing and no one could ever replace the sea, the feeling of the wind on his face, the sense of freedom when the Destinée cut through the waves.

  Anyone who ever contemplated giving this up was a fool.

  After all, there was no greater feeling than the feeling of absolute freedom, was there?

  Chapter Two − An Impossible Choice

  Watching her brother in love only reminded Alexandra that she was not.

  Certainly, she had spent the past few weeks dancing through ballrooms and attending society teas, accepting rides through Hyde Park and strolling through the British Museum on rainy days. She had met countless young and not so young gentlemen, who paid her compliments and asked for the next dance. And while they all seemed quite amiable−some more than others−none managed to put that utterly transfixed smile on her face she saw whenever Lady Agnes looked at her brother.

  It was utterly frustrating.

  You’re a dreamer, her mother’s voice echoed in her head. And while there’s nothing wrong with dreams, dreamers often tend to find themselves facing disappointment.

  Had her mother been right? Would her hopes for a fairy tale romance be disappointed because she had expectations that were too high? Did Lady Agnes feel no more strongly for her brother than Alexandra felt for Mr. Bancroft? Was it simply that Lady Agnes was perfectly satisfied with the feelings she experienced? And was Alexandra asking for too much?

  Accepting Mr. Bancroft’s request for the next dance, Alexandra willed herself to make more of an effort. “The music is wonderful, is it not?” she said, smiling up at him, admiring the sparkling green of his eyes. Eyes that looked down at her with kindness and affection. Eyes that looked deep into hers as though they wished to know her true self. Eyes that ought to make her feel weak in the knees.

  Unfortunately, they did not.

  “It is indeed,” he replied, his hand grasping hers when the steps led them back together. “It is a truly enchanted evening.”

  Alexandra nodded, wishing his words were true.

  His fingers brushed over hers, and Alexandra wondered if she would have felt at least a little jolt had her gloves not been in the way. Had his skin touched hers, would she have felt something?

  Deep down, Alexandra doubted it very much.

  Throughout the rest of the evening, Mr. Bancroft asked her to dance once more and constantly found a reason to venture near her, offering her a drink, asking if she wanted to stroll out onto the terrace. He was very attentive, proper in his manners and never failed to speak to her kindly. He treated her with respect and listened when she talked, and yet, Alexandra could not claim that she longed for his presence whenever she did not find him nearby.

  Almost desperately, Alexandra wished she would lose her heart to him, but it was no use. Her heart remained where it was, utterly unaffected by the young man’s good looks and charming smiles.

  Weeks passed, and Alexandra came to realise that all she felt was excitement for something she did not have. By all accounts, she seemed in love with the idea of being in love. However, no man could measure up to the ideal she had pictured in her mind ever since she had been a little girl.

  The flowers in their garden were in full blossom when Alexandra was called into her father’s study one afternoon. Settling into one of the armchairs facing his desk, she looked at him expectantly. “What is this about, Father? I admit the look on your face is a bit alarming.”

  Closing his eyes, he sighed, and Alexandra felt a cold shiver run down her back. What had happened? Was his health declining?

  “I’m afraid this week has not been kind to us,” her father began, his hands unable to remain still as he began to sort through papers on his desk. “I’ve been made aware that Lady Agnes’s father does not favour your brother’s suit.”

  Alexandra sucked in a sharp breath. “That is awful. Can he not see how deeply in love they are?”

  “I’m afraid that is of no importance to him,” her father replied, a hint of guilt in his eyes that made Alexandra wonder what else he had to tell her.

  Waiting, she sat back, watching her father, not needing to ask what objections Lady Agnes’s father might have. Although William was a dashing, young man with impeccable manners, he was only a baronet’s son and possessed no great fortune to speak of. Therefore, it was not far-fetched that an earl had higher hopes for his daughter, certain she could find a better match.

  At least in his opinion.

  Probably not in hers.

  “Is there nothing we can do?” Alexandra finally asked, knowing that there was not. Still, her heart ached for the two young people, and she cursed the world for bringing them together only to tear them apart again. More and more, Alexandra came to realise that the real world had very little to do with the fairy tales of her childhood.

  Had it only been a few months since she had begun her first season with such high hopes? Such optimism? How had this happened?

  “I was given to understand,” her father began, his gaze firmly fixed on his desk, “that…eh…”

  Frowning, Alexandra stared at her father. Never in her life had she seen him groping for words like this, and her body grew cold with dread. Whatever he had to say had to be truly horrible!

  “In fact, it was Lady Agnes who told your brother of her father’s concern with our family’s…lack of station.” Clearing his throat, her father shuffled papers from left to right. “In her opinion, the earl might be persuaded to grant his permission if our family were to…marry into a higher circle.”

  Alexandra was very much aware of the fact that her father refused to look at her, and although her heart raced with something akin to panic, her mind concluded quite reasonably that her father was likely speaking about her. “Father,” Alexandra said, her voice feeble as she spoke, “may I ask you to speak plainly? What is it that you would ask of me?”

  At her direct question, her father’s head snapped up, and she could see pain in his grey eyes. “I’m sorry, my child,” he said, his voice close to breaking. “It is not fair for me to speak to you about this, but you are your brother’s only chance.”

  Alexandra swallowed. “How?”

  “A few days ago,” her father began, his hands gripping the table top, “I received a marriage proposal for you.” Alexandra started to feel faint. “If you were to accept him, it would in all likelihood facilitate your brother’s suit.”

  Closing her eyes, Alexandra inhaled a deep breath. Whoever it was, she already knew that she did not wish to accept it as there was no one who had ever tempted her heart. Meeting her father’s eyes once more, she finally asked, “Who is it?”

  “Viscount Silcox.”

  Alexandra frowned, unable to recall the gentleman her father spoke of.

  “He asked you to dance at Lord Northey’s ball a fortnight ago,” her father reminded her, his jaw tense as he spoke. “Right after Mr. Bancroft returned you to my side.”

  Alexandra’s eyes opened wide as recognition dawned and she could finally picture the gentleman’s face. However, recognition was immediately followed by an almost desperate desire to escape that union. “I cannot,” she whispered almost breathless, shaking her head as though it could undo the proposal. “He’s…I mean…he’s…”

  “Old enough to be your father?”

  Alexandra flinched at the anger in her father’s voice. Still, when her eyes met his, she saw nothing but pain and regret.

  “Of course not,” he said, rising from his chair and coming to stand beside her. Then he held out his hands and helped her to her feet. “I will not force you to accept him,” he said, his gaze holding hers as her hands rested securely in his own. “However, I had to ask.”

  Searching his face, Alexandra finally realised the impossible situation her father fo
und himself in. Although he knew very well that asking her to marry Lord Silcox would lead to her unhappiness, protecting her from such a union would rob his son of the woman he loved. No matter what he did, one of his beloved children would suffer.

  In that moment, Alexandra knew that she had no choice after all. Still, she clutched at straws. “He is the only one who’s asked?”

  Meeting his daughter’s gaze, Sir John swallowed. “You cannot,” he whispered, realising what she was about to say. “You do not care for him. You−”

  “Neither do I care for another,” Alexandra replied, surprised to feel tears rolling down her cheeks as the possibilities she had longed for only months ago were suddenly ripped from her grasp. “William loves her.” Holding her father’s gaze, Alexandra nodded, urging him to understand. “I’ve dreamed of the way they feel about one another, and yet, I have not found it.”

  “It’s been one season,” her father reasoned. “Give yourself time. I−”

  “No.”

  At the determination in Alexandra’s voice, her father quieted, his sad eyes holding hers.

  “If I wait, her father will marry her to another and then she will be lost to William.” Wiping away the tears that wet her cheeks, Alexandra inhaled a fortifying breath. “My heart, however, is in no danger.”

  “What about your dreams?” her father asked, the look on his face one of emotions torn between relief and dread. “Your hopes?”

  “Dreamers often find themselves facing disappointment,” she whispered, repeating her mother’s words.

  Instantly, her father shook his head, his hands grasping her by the arms. “That is not what she meant. She would never want you to sacrifice−”

  “Wouldn’t she? Perhaps not, but how can you expect me to stand by and watch my brother lose the love of his life? He’d never speak to me again. Not because he’d hold it against me−I know he wouldn’t−but because whenever he’d look at me, all he’d see would be his lost chance.” Again, Alexandra shook her head. “No, if I can ensure his happiness, I must not hesitate. After all, he would do the same for me.”

  For a long time, her father looked down at her with sad eyes, and she could see the desire on his face to dissuade her from her chosen path. Still, he could not, and it tore him apart.

  “Do not worry, Father,” Alexandra said, trying her best to hold her head high and appear certain in the choice she had so unexpectedly made only a moment ago. “Perhaps some dreams are destined to remain mere dreams. After all, we cannot all have our fairy tale ending, can we?” She inhaled another fortifying breath, feeling her resolve strengthen with each moment she settled into her new life. “Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. What if I were to hold on to the dream of my Prince Charming? What if I would never find him? I’d die an old maid with no family of my own. At least, this way part of my dream will come true. I’ll have children. I’ll be a mother.” A soft smile tugged on the corners of her mouth. “That’ll bring me joy.”

  Her father’s hands tightened on hers. “I would ask you to sleep on it, dear child.” When Alexandra opened her mouth to object, he shook his head. “No, you will sleep on it. Give yourself one day to weigh your options and decide what it is you're willing to give up. You owe yourself that.”

  Alexandra nodded. “As you wish.”

  Inhaling a slow breath, her father pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” he mumbled into her hair. “I wish I could see you both happy.”

  Clinging to her father, Alexandra allowed her tears to run freely, determined that they would be the last ones she would shed. After today, she would not cry for a life that was never meant to be. She was not a child any longer, and fairy tales had no place in the world of a grown woman. She would make do with what she had, and she would find as much happiness as she could.

  That, Alexandra vowed as she finally let go of her hopes for a man she had dreamed of all her life.

  After all, was it not obvious that he did not exist?

  Chapter Three − Destiny

  Returning to the harbour with a merchant vessel in tow, Antoine felt his chest swell with pride as he stood on deck, his eyes sweeping over his family as they stood by the docks, waving and smiling, welcoming him back home. Apparently, his ship had been spotted upon approach−most likely by his wayward nephew Henri.

  Ever since his mother had died a year ago, the boy had been running wild with no sense of discipline or direction as his father had been all but broken by the loss of his wife. Alain could barely manage to keep himself from drowning his pain in alcohol before the day was out, let alone rein in a boy of seven years who spent his days resisting any form of control.

  Returning his family’s greeting, Antoine barked a few orders, watching with satisfaction as his crew skilfully moored both ships at the docks, securing the sails and then lowering the gangplank. Before he could set foot on land though, Henri sprinted up the gangplank, green eyes wide as he lifted his head and surveyed the large ship with a deep sense of childish awe.

  At the sight, Antoine felt a jolt in his heart as a memory resurfaced. A memory he had not thought about in a long time. Still, as he looked at his nephew and saw the fascination and longing on his little, dirt-stained face, Antoine remembered how he himself had once lost his heart to the sea and the adventures it promised. Was Henri a born sailor as well? Did he favour his uncle instead of his father, who could not even bring himself to set foot on a moored ship for fear of seasickness?

  “I see you’ve been successful,” Antoine’s father said as he stepped on deck, his old eyes sweeping over his former ship. “How does it feel to be captain?”

  Turning his attention from his nephew to his father, Antoine sighed, “It is a feeling like no other.”

  “Then it is everything you hoped it would be?”

  Antoine nodded. “That and more.” Then he gestured to his quartermaster to begin and have the crew unload the merchant ship’s cargo before nodding to his mother, who stood with the rest of his large family on the docks, her watchful eyes narrowed as she looked from him to her husband.

  “Did you dock anywhere?” Hubert asked, his gaze distant as he looked up at the crow’s nest. Still, there was a slight note of excited curiosity in his voice that made Antoine wonder what this was about.

  “Not this time,” he replied, eyeing his father carefully. “Why do you ask?”

  Hubert smiled, finally meeting his son’s gaze. “Oh, an old man can be curious, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Curious about what?”

  Hubert shrugged, strolling down the main deck, gently running his weathered hand over the handrail. “I still remember the day I met your mother.”

  Antoine sighed, finally realising what his father was dying to know. “To put your mind at ease,” he spoke before his father could continue his stroll down memory lane, “I have not met a woman, and I do not intend to.”

  His father chuckled, “Neither did I.”

  Antoine rolled his eyes, trying his best to control the annoyance in his heart. “I am not you, and I had hoped you’d come to accept that.”

  Hubert scoffed, “I know that you’re not me. I never said you were, but that does not mean I wish to see you unhappy.”

  “I’m not unhappy,” Antoine insisted, glancing at Henri who had ventured over to the merchant vessel and was currently darting back and forth on deck as his uncle’s crew did their best to unload the cargo without tripping over the boy.

  “Neither are you happy,” Hubert observed, shaking his head at his grandson before turning his grey eyes back to his son. “You might think that you are, but only someone who has never loved can truly believe so.”

  Running his hand through his hair, Antoine sighed, “What do you want me to say? Is there anything I can say that would stop this nonsense? That would put your mind at ease?”

  “I don’t want you to say anything,” Hubert insisted. “I only wish you would stop running away from the fact that there is more to life than being
out at sea. Believe me, the older you get the more you start to realise that family is all that matters.” He sighed, “I simply do not wish for you to wake up one day and find yourself completely and utterly alone.”

  Holding his father’s gaze, Antoine tried to make himself heard. “I have a family in case you’ve failed to notice. I am not alone. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  Again, Hubert sighed, and this time Antoine thought to see a hint of resignation in his grey eyes. “Well, then let me ask you for a favour.”

  Antoine tensed. “A favour? Does it have to do with marriage?”

  His father chuckled, “Don’t be so negative, my son.” Grinning, he shook his head, and his gaze returned to his grandson as he climbed the rigging to the merchant ship’s crow’s nest. “This is about Henri.”

  Following his father’s gaze, Antoine frowned. “What about him?”

  “He needs direction,” Hubert sighed, turning to look at Antoine. “He needs a strong hand, and above all, he needs his hands and his mind occupied.” He shook his head. “Alain is in no state to be the father Henri needs right now. He barely gets through the day.”

  Antoine felt a sense of dread crawl up his spine. “Still?” he asked. “Hasn’t it been a year since…?”

  Hubert met his son’s gaze, a touch of incredulity in his eyes. “This is not a cold that can be cured with a little bed rest, my son,” Hubert all but reprimanded him. “Your brother had his heart ripped from his chest and is now forced to continue without it. Not even I can imagine what that must feel like as my own still beats steadily in my old chest.”

  “I’m sorry,” Antoine mumbled, seeing the depth of his father’s emotions but unable to understand their full meaning. “What can I do?”

  Hubert met his gaze. “Take him with you.”

  “What?” Antoine’s mouth fell open as he stared at his father. Then his gaze drifted to Henri, who currently dangled from the rigging, his feet flailing around as he tried to regain his footing. “Why?”