Conquered by the Commander (The Conquered Book 2) Read online

  "What irony; you sound so much like Bess did." With those parting words, the older lady stood up and left the room, but not before Lily caught a glimpse of the tears streaming from her eyes.

  "You must ignore her, my dear," the earl offered quickly by way of apology. "You did splendidly. My wife still clings to old daydreams. It's partly my fault. When she used to speak of them, I failed to put a stop to it. I thought her fantasies innocent enough at the time. I had no idea they would turn into an obsession."

  Daydreams? Fantasies? Lily's face clouded. What was he talking about?

  "I see, sir," Lily said softly, when she didn't see at all. She looked up to see that Darby had opened his arms wide, and she rushed into his warm embrace. Lily tried to console herself with his comforting words, but she refused to admit defeat as yet. Her husband deserved a happy home. She would find a way to make peace with his mother, one way or another.

  Meeting Amelia…

  "Right, left, left," Lily mumbled to herself as she walked. Arriving at a huge door, she took a deep, satisfied breath. "Second door on the right…" She pulled the door open and smiled brightly. "As promised, my lord. I am here to enjoy our afternoon tea—oh! My lady…"

  Instead of finding her father-in-law's study, she found herself in the ladies' sitting room. As if this was not distressing enough, Lily realized Darby's mother was entertaining, and others there had witnessed her embarrassment.

  A smatter of giggles broke the awkward silence. Straightening her shoulders, Lily forced herself not to run away. Head held high, she took a step into the room and waited to be introduced. Part of her felt put out about not being included. She and Darby had been at the manor for several weeks, now. One day, Lily would be the lady of this fine home. What a slight to be excluded by the current countess!

  "After all this time, you are still losing your way, my dear," her mother-in-law said as she lowered her tea cup and saucer. Under her breath, she muttered, "Bess had an exceptional sense of direction." Then she raised her voice again. "One would hope you would catch on to such things sooner, rather than later. My husband's study is clear across the hall. Do come in, though. I expect my friends shall want to meet my son's new—wife." The last word seemed to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

  "Your beautiful home is quite large, Countess." Instead of backing down, Lily pretended to be calm and confident. "I admit my Darby…" she emphasized her close relationship "…often has to come searching for me. He is so kind and welcoming. He makes me feel at home, as does your delightful husband." If anyone noticed she did not include her mother-in-law's welcome, they did not say a word.

  The countess rushed with introductions, perhaps hoping to gloss over the omitted comment? Lily remembered to curtsy to those she should and to address everyone properly until she came face to face with her past.

  "Amelia?" she said suddenly, trying to hide her shock.

  "Lily… I had no idea you were the stranger who managed to capture our dear Darby. You look quite lovely. My, I haven't seen you in ages. Do tell us, what have you been doing lately?"

  Lily longed to be curt with the other girl, who was close to her age. "Traveling across the Atlantic to America and back. And I have been enjoying my recent marriage, of course." Would Amelia rush to tell everyone of Lily's past, her years of working the mill and barely making ends meet? As if the countess needed any more reason to think Lily unworthy.

  "He is quite a catch, my lady," Amelia offered, shocking Lily with deference to her new position in society. A few years ago, she wouldn't have even bothered to lower herself to address Lily with so much as a greeting. Now, however, it was different. She smiled, showing an extremely friendly face. "I feel privileged to be an acquaintance of the future Countess of Darby."

  Lily stared, wondering if there was a graceful way to escape. "I would think it is more impressive to be the guest of the current countess," she suggested.

  But Darby's mother was not the least impressed with Lily's deference to her. "Do sit down, Lillianna. Craning my neck to see you is quite uncomfortable." Without waiting for Lily to do as told, the countess turned to Amelia. "Exactly how do you and my son's wife know one another?"

  "Textiles," the other woman offered, seeming to weigh her words carefully, as if she knew one wrong word might hamper future invitations to the earl's home. "Lord Darby has commissioned a new wardrobe for his lovely wife."

  Lily didn't know if she should be relieved or concerned by Amelia's coy comments. "All my things perished when our ship went down. Darby has kindly seen to correcting my lack of appropriate…belongings."

  "Yes," her mother-in-law commented. "Charlie is bound and determined to make sure his wife fits in. I dare say, he will move Heaven and Earth to accomplish it."

  "I heard," another young lady in attendance confided. "He was very involved and only put one stipulation on the selection his wife should make." The woman gave Lily a genuine smile of condolence. "Husbands are so stubborn about accepting new fashions. My own husband does not allow me to wear the newer, lower necklines, even those that are the latest rage."

  Lily blushed. She'd managed to convince the dressmaker to provide one delightful, green gown which closed minded people might consider risqué, but she was sure Darby would have to agree was perfect for her. It hung, new, in the back of her wardrobe, as she had not found the perfect time to show it to him.

  "My wife does not need to wear the latest fashions to shine," Darby interrupted, standing at the open door, and she nearly leaped up in alarm. "My father sent me to find his tea partner, my dear. Did you forget you promised to join him today?"

  "She got lost yet again." His mother did not even try to hide her annoyance.

  "Unlike Bess, who apparently never lost her way," Lily muttered for her husband's ears alone.

  "Lily is never truly lost, Mother. I am her anchor. Come, my love. Let's go join my father. Have a nice afternoon, ladies, Mother."

  Lily eagerly took her husband's arm and followed him toward the earl's quarters.

  Again, that night, she was plagued with the sounds of her former nightmares. The whirr and clacking of the looms, the shouts and roars of Mr. Fenwirth, the ever-constant deadlines that she would never be able to meet. But her incompetency was the thing that frightened her the most.

  In her dreams…

  The darkness seemed to assault her senses. Lillianna struggled to be able to see in the dim light. They wanted her on the fourth floor. "You're small," they said.

  She could feel the clamminess in her hands; the hair was rising on the nape of her neck. She was terrified. The steps disappeared, above her, into the darkness, with the thunderous shouts of Fenwirth echoing at the top. She couldn't even see the large, angry man whose mouth continually turned down at the corners, but she knew he was waving his cane about. He'd used it on her before, when she was unable to get the loom fixed. She feared what he would do if she was unable to repair it.

  In terror, she slowly climbed the stairs upward. From the top of the steps, she could barely see it. It was a monster, possessed, clacking loudly at her, evil. She felt as if she was freezing, unable to move.

  "Go on, girl. Hurry it up!" The cane threatened.

  Lily gulped and moved forward as he took a step toward her. Some of the other children were already there, waiting, trying to get into position. Slowly, she crept nearer and climbed underneath it. The noise it made as it threatened to collapse, yet again, caused her to tremble violently. Lily felt her teeth chatter as she took her place. The vile thing was waiting…just waiting. She reached her left arm upward.

  That's when it happened—the collapse of the loom on her, her scream, mixed with the cries of the other children, and the explosive outcry of Fenwirth. Colin's voice could be heard in the sounds, calling for the help of the other men on the floor to lift the loom, while Fenwirth just stood, screaming angrily at her.

  She felt it vividly—the inability to escape, the pain in her arm, and the smell of blood as it poured for
th from the long gash in her shoulder and traveled downward. She saw the red stain that began seeping through her sleeve, then to the skirt of her gown and spreading downward to the floor as it mixed with the stains of the other workers from past injuries, now becoming fresh again.

  She was trapped, unable to move. The loom was pressing down on her, hindering her ability to breathe. But when Mr. Fenwirth turned toward her, it was not his face she saw.

  It was the face of the countess, with hatred in her eyes.

  The truth…

  The screams Lillianna uttered filled the room and frightened Darby out of his wits. He gathered her up and spoke gently into her ear, shaking her lightly, "Lillianna, wake up, sweetheart! Nothing will hurt you. I have you, shh, I have you. I promise, you're safe now." He tried to speak the words quickly and quietly, to comfort her.

  Lily opened her eyes. It was obvious she was staring but not seeing. When she finally began to blink, she began weeping. "Oh, Charlie, hold me—please hold me!"

  "I've got you, my love. I won't let you go."

  A moment later, he was whisking her through the house and down toward the kitchen, covered in only her nightgown. She was shaking miserably, and he cursed himself for not grabbing a blanket on the way. Reaching into the cabinet, he poured a glass of brandy as he held her against his chest. "Here, sweetheart. I want you to drink this."

  "What i-is i-it?" Her teeth were chattering as she stuttered.

  "Brandy. It'll take away the dreams and let you relax so you can get back to—"

  "I hate brandy."

  "My apologies. You'll drink it, anyway."

  Lanterns were being lit, and he glanced up to see Winston, the butler, standing in the doorway. "May I help, my lord? Tell me, what can I do?"

  "Thank you, Winston. Stoke the fire in the drawing room and in our chamber." He looked down into Lily's face. She was staring at the butler as he asked for direction. Gone was the stiffness he usually showed. It was replaced with concern. He hurried away, and a moment later, Darby heard him in the drawing room, stoking up the fire in the huge hearth. Seconds later, the elderly man brought in a lamb's wool throw and handed it to Darby. "For Lady Darby, my lord. To warm her."

  "Thank you, Winston," Lily said softly.

  The butler gave her a warm smile and nodded to Darby. "I'll light the lanterns in the hall and stoke the fire in your room, my lord."

  "As my wife says, Winston, thank you. We appreciate you." Darby put the brandy into her small hands and moved nearer the fire with her. Settling her into his lap, he took the glass from her and held it to her lips. "Drink, my darling."

  Lily glared upward. "I'd rather not—"

  "Unless you prefer to be put over my knee?"

  She sighed and took a sip. A fit of coughing ensued, and she leaned back against him. "I told you I didn't like it."

  "I'd rather have you do a small bit of coughing than to wake up screaming again. Lillianna, you terrified me with that scream, I'm telling you. Here, another sip."

  She obediently took one and then another, until he was satisfied with her compliance. Leaning back once more, she gave a contented sigh.

  "Better?"

  She nodded.

  "All right, tell me what the nightmare was about."

  No sooner had he spoken than he heard his mother's voice in the foyer, "What in heaven's name is going on, Winston, that we all should be shaken from our beds in the middle of the night?"

  "I believe Lady Darby had a nightmare, my lady."

  "Good God, not again. I thought she'd have gotten over those by now."

  Darby's face grew grim as he listened. A moment later, the countess came into the drawing room. He turned to stare at her. "She might get over them, Mother, when you stop being so inhospitable to her."

  Lily whimpered in his arms, and he cuddled her closer but continued to stare at his mother. "Mother, I love you. But right now, if it were not for the fact that it would hurt my father, I would take Lily away from here, just to get her away from you. Please consider that. And as soon as his health is better, we will find Gregory and catch the next voyage to America."

  His mother's eyes widened. She whirled away from him and left the room. But he heard her as she stopped outside, in the foyer. "Well, Winston? Can you believe she has turned my own son against me?"

  There was a pause as Darby listened. When he heard Winston's voice, it was firm, "With all due respect, my lady? You have turned him against you, all by yourself."

  A gasp from his mother was clearly heard. "Winston!"

  "Madam, we have known each other for many years. I have never once lied to you, and I refuse to start now. Bess isn't coming back. You are doing yourself and everyone else in the house a terrible disservice by clinging to that notion. If you choose to manage without my services, I shall find other employment. However, if you choose to keep believing in this fantasy of yours, I will lose total respect for you."

  A long pause, followed by loud weeping, was the next thing Darby heard as his mother left and ran back to her room.

  "All right, my darling. I'm sure you heard that. Now, it's time for us to be honest with each other—" He stopped, suddenly, as his eyes lit on the young woman in his arms.

  She was asleep.

  And the present…

  Much to her dismay, Lily had been assigned a lady's maid by Darby's mother. She was tall and thin with a sallow face, but she was very capable. Lily felt that it was nothing more than a desire to keep a closer eye on her and have someone to report everything she was up to. But a few days later, Lily sought her husband out after breakfast.

  "Lillianna, you look as if something is on your mind," he said softly, bringing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

  "That's because there is, Charlie. I heard from Rebekah that your mother is having guests for tea again this morning and I have not been invited. I'd like very much to go into the village and do some shopping, if it's all right?"

  He eyed her, frowning. "As long as you take Rebekah and the groom with you and stay on the path, I will let you go. Promise to stay with them?"

  She looked away. "I promise."

  "Lillianna." His voice was deep and stern. "For some reason, I'm not convinced. Look me in the eye and promise me."

  She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I promise."

  She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally allowed her to go but spoke with the groom before putting her into the coach. "Please look out for her carefully." When he turned toward Lily, he kissed her on top of the head. "Keep Rebekah with you to help you with packages, my love."

  "I will." The tone of her voice was almost accusatory. He didn't trust her? She sighed as the coach pulled away. Perhaps he didn't.

  Again, during the night, she'd awakened in Darby's arms, crying, with the same recurring dream. It was the third night in a row. She glanced toward her new maid, sitting across from her in the carriage, and tried to think of conversation she could make.

  Rebekah was friendly and polite enough, but Lily still didn't know her maid's opinion of her. She had tried once or twice to find out what the girl thought of serving in the manor, but Rebekah was tight-lipped. Perhaps she worried what would happen to her if she gave out any information.

  I'd be worried, too, if I worked there, she thought. But she also found herself wondering if the countess was pressing Rebekah for information about her. She sighed, turning toward the window.

  Suddenly, she saw it and gasped, clenching and unclenching her hands into the folds of her gown as they passed the hulk that was the source of her nightmares. The textile mill that took up an entire city block seemed to be mocking her.

  The sounds, the shouts, the clacking of the loom was there again, along with the pain in her arm. And the face of Charlie's mother again replaced that of Fenwirth's.

  She called out desperately for the groom to stop and barely made it outside the coach, before she leaned forward and began to retch.

  It was lunchtime when she rea
ched the manor again. Rebekah seemed concerned, and the groom took things slowly getting them back to the estate. Charlie had rushed out to meet her and had swept her up into his arms and carried her into the house when he saw how pale she was.

  "Lillianna," he spoke softly into her ear. "What happened while you were out? I may not let you leave again the next time without me."

  "I just…became ill, Charlie. Please, I just want to lie down and rest."

  "Certainly, my love." He carried her past the open parlor door, past the stares of his mother and her guests, irritated at the obvious attempt to shut Lily out, and took her to their bedroom. When Rebekah would have followed, he shook his head. "I'll stay with her, this afternoon. However, you might check in a little later and see if she feels up to eating something."

  "Yes, my lord," she murmured quietly and curtsied, backing away.

  When the room was empty but for the two of them, he closed the door. Checking on the wardrobe and the smaller areas of the room, he leaned over her. "Now, Lillianna. It's time to tell me. What upset you so? And don't think I'll let you get by without answering me, because I won't."

  She opened her eyes but looked up at him with a forlorn gaze. "Oh, Charlie, I saw it."

  He frowned, waiting.

  "I saw the mill where I used to work. And then, all of a sudden, I heard the voices and the sounds of the looms, and…" She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. "I remembered what it was like when I was trapped under it."

  His concerned eyes searched hers carefully. "That's what you've been experiencing in your nightmares."

  Without opening her eyes, she nodded and took a deep breath. "And Mr. Fenwirth shouted at me, and I was trapped, and it hurt so badly, and then…" She turned away and began weeping. There was no way she could tell him she'd been dreaming of his mother's face in the place of Mr. Fenwirth's. He would think she was losing her mind.