A/N: Holy response, Batman!
Seriously, I think I almost got more story alerts for chapter 1 than I have for nearly all of Impossible to Ignore. Totally blew my mind. I'm just glad people are liking it. Hopefully it will stay that way lol. :)
Anywho, I have some people to thank who left reviews, but I couldn't thank in a PM!
UraniumLullaby: I'm really happy you're liking it so far! Hehe, yay! I'm glad you're looking forward to lots of plot; it's kind of my specialty lol. ;)
Last White Feather: Aw, thank you so much! *blushes and looks away bashfully* Oh, and yes, I did totally blush at your review. It made my day. :) Also, I was going to try to give you a hint as to your question, but then I realized that if I told you anything, it will give everything (and I do mean pretty much everything that I have planned for the story; I didn't realize how loaded that question was haha) away, and I just didn't want to spoil the mystery for you. So...my answer is, "You're just going to have to wait to find out?" :)
Anyway, sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. You know...things and school and life and work got in the way.
On an unrelated note, you know what I hate? Taxes. And that's all I'm going to say about that.
Also, I recently found a story entitled The Bodyguard, in which Santana is the bodyguard (the one where Brittany is the bodyguard is also fabulous - as if you haven't already read it, right?), and it is really amazing. It's so...deep and emotional. So...you might want to read it when you get a chance, if you haven't already. It's very well written.
Okay, that's enough babbling from me. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
"Britt?"
In the middle of her bedroom, Brittany stopped short, one foot poised in mid-air, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Surely that was Finn's voice! He never came to her room, not for any reason. He wouldn't have considered it proper.
But in spite of that fact, he had come today.
Frantically, Brittany looked around her. If Finn caught her looking like this, her attempt at escape would be over before it even started. She'd been all but ready to go. Just seconds before the knock on her door, she had slipped her heaviest winter coat on.
The coat had been the only thing that had gotten her through the rest of the afternoon. Brittany had spent her time sewing what little inheritance she had left, the jewelry that had once belonged to her mother, into the coat's lining.
The only piece she'd left out was a cameo ring, her father's wedding present to her mother. This she had slipped onto the ring finger of her right hand, hoping that the token of her parents' love for one another might bring her luck.
But the whole time, Brittany had kept one ear cocked, listening for the slam of the front door. It was the way Finn always announced his return to the house.
Rebecca hated that Finn slammed the front door when he came in. She considered such an action vulgar and common. But for once, Finn disagreed with his wife's notion of proper behavior. As far as he was concerned, everyone should know when the master of the house came home, and nothing accomplished that faster, Finn said, than a good hard slam.
Today's bang had come even earlier than usual, a fact which had at first caused Brittany considerable alarm. Had she given herself away somehow? Had Rebecca sent word to Finn saying that Brittany was acting strangely, begging Finn to return home at once?
She'd bundled the coat into the wardrobe and waited tensely, knowing that she could be summoned at any moment. But nothing had happened. No such summons had come.
Even so, Brittany hadn't relaxed until she had heard her stepbrother and his wife actually come upstairs and move past her room along the hall, talking in low voices. They were on their way to their own room, to dress for dinner. At long last, the moment Brittany had spent all afternoon waiting for had come.
She had given Finn and Rebecca fifteen minutes, the most nerve-wracking fifteen minutes of her life. She had checked the watch pinned to the front of her shirt waist so often, time hadn't seemed to move at all.
But, finally, the margin of safety Brittany had allowed herself to be certain her stepbrother and his wife really were in their room was over. She had pulled on her coat and headed for her bedroom door. Her intention had been to open it silently and peek out, to verify that the coast was indeed clear. After that, she would pin on her hat, retrieve her packed carpet bag, and be on her way.
But no sooner had she started across the room than she had heard the knock on her door.
"Britt," her stepbrother's voice said once again. "May I come in? It's Finn."
I know it's you, Finn, Brittany thought. She felt a desperate bubble of laughter rise up inside her chest, even through her fear. If Finn wished to come into her room, something very serious must be happening.
Brittany's heart was pounding so hard she could see the front of her coat quiver, but it was the only part of her that seemed able to move. The rest of her was frozen in place in the center of her room.
Do something, her mind commanded. Take off your coat. Don't let him catch you!
If Finn discovered her standing in the middle of her room wearing her heaviest coat, Brittany had absolutely no doubt about what he would do. He's see her married to Artie Abrams as soon as possible, even if people talked.
"Britt! What's the matter? Why don't you answer me?"
In horror, Brittany saw the doorknob move. She made a frantic lunge straight toward the door. She snatched her hat from the top of her dressing table, and then spun around and dashed for her bed, frantically ripping off her coat as she did so.
She dove beneath the covers, pushing the coat down to her waist, smashing it down against her hat. Then she pulled her quilt all the way up to her chin, thankful that it was long enough she didn't have to worry about her shoes poking out the bottom.
"Is somebody there?" she called out, doing her best to sound as though he had just startled her out of a deep sleep. "Did somebody call?"
The door shot inward, as if pushed open with impatient hands. A moment later, her stepbrother appeared in the doorway.
Finn Hudson was a tall, imposing man, but Brittany found her stepbrother had never looked as daunting as he did at this moment. He completely filled her bedroom doorway. His dark eyebrows were pulled together in a frown. His normally pale face was flushed with annoyance.
Brittany began to shiver so hard she had to clench her teeth together to keep them from chattering.
Don't let him see how intimidated you are, she told herself firmly. Don't let him see that anything is out of the ordinary. You caught a chill. You went upstairs to rest. You did just what Rebecca told you to do and no more.
But still, it took all the courage she possessed for her to face her stepbrother. His brown eyes were snapping with irritation.
"What took you so long to answer?" he demanded, as he came into the room. "Why are you still in bed? You aren't ill, are you?"
In spite of her stepbrother's frustration, Brittany began to breathe a little easier. Finn had left the door ajar behind him.
It wouldn't have been proper for the two of them to be in Brittany's bedroom alone with the door closed. But it was a nicety Brittany was sure Finn would have overlooked if he had been facing a true crisis. If he had believed that she was planning to defy him.
"I'm sorry," Brittany said, not bothering to conceal the way her voice trembled. "I didn't hear you. I was asleep, Finn. Rebecca told me I should rest."
At the mention of his wife's name, the angry color faded from Finn Hudson's face, though it was still plain he wasn't happy about the fact that Brittany was still in bed. Equally obvious, however, was the fact that, like his wife, Finn was afraid of pushing Brittany too far.
Brittany pulled in a deep, calming breath. Her stepbrother hadn't discovered what she had planned. He was merely concerned because she might not be able to see Artie Abrams that evening, just as Rebecca had been.
"Rebecca did say that you might not be feeling well," Finn admitted. He crossed the room with quick strides to stand beside Brittany's bed. "She also said that if you fell ill, you would have no one but yourself to blame."
Once more, Brittany found herself battling back desperate laughter. It seemed neither Finn nor Rebecca could refrain from criticizing her, in spite of their fear of alienating her.
"What on earth possessed you to open a window in this weather, I'd like to know," Finn continued.
Oh, no you wouldn't, Finn, Brittany thought, still struggling to hold in laughter. "I said I was sorry," she protested, clutching the covers to her chin. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her mother's ring. Brittany eased her right hand down beneath the quilt.
"Well," Finn Hudson murmured, dismissing Brittany's apology with a single syllable.
Without warning, he leaned over to capture her left hand where it still clutched the top of the quilt. He pulled her arm out from under the covers and pressed two fingers against her wrist. Brittany's heart was beating so fast it all but choked her. As he felt her pulse's frantic scramble, Finn's frown reappeared.
"Hmm," he said through pursed lips. He released Brittany's wrist to press on palm to her forehead. It was all Brittany could do not to flinch. But suddenly, she realized how incredibly warm she was under the winder bed quilt made of wool, with her heaviest coat concealed beneath it. Surely, that would work to her advantage.
"Well, your pulse is fast," Finn admitted, "and you do feel a little warm." He spun away and took a quick turn about the room, his jerky steps betraying his inner agitation. "You do remember that Artie is expected for dinner this evening," he finally rapped out.
"Of course I remember," Brittany said, as she felt her heart beats begin to slow. Why did it take me so long to see him as he truly is? she wondered. Callous. Shallow. Self-obsessed. Neither Finn nor Rebecca had expressed any genuine concern for Brittany's health. She could contract a serious illness, for all they cared. But not before she was safely married to Artie Abrams.
"I'm sure if I just splashed a little cold water on my face—"
"That's a good idea," Finn seconded at once, swinging around to face her. "In fact, now that I think of it, it might be to our advantage if, for once, you didn't look your best. It wouldn't hurt for you to appear a little frail for a change you know, Britt. I've always said you were far too robust. Men don't care for a woman who is too strong. It's important for a woman to make a man feel needed."
In spite of the warmth the covers provided, Brittany shivered. Did Artie feel the same way her stepbrother did? Was what Artie wanted not a person, but an ornament? It didn't matter what Artie Abrams wanted anymore. What mattered was what Brittany wanted now.
How close I came, she thought. How close to disaster. The same distance Finn was now. But Brittany wasn't about to let herself be sacrificed to her stepbrother's designs. Instead, she would use the impetuosity he so longed to drive out of her to her own advantage.
"If I might have a moment," she said, making a move as if to throw back the quilt, "I'll try to get dressed now, Finn."
"Of course," Finn Hudson said at once. He moved swiftly to the doorway. "I'll just have Rebecca ring for Emma."
"Oh, but—" Brittany began, and then caught herself at the last moment. Having to contend with Emma would make her plan for escape even more problematic than it already was, but she'd give away everything if she protested.
The fact that Finn was willing to have Emma help her dress would usually have been a point in Brittany's favor. Often, Brittany had no one at all. If the occasion was particularly important, Rebecca might send her own maid, Terri, to help her, a circumstance appreciated by neither.
The older woman had a cold, calculating personality; a fact which Brittany believed made her the perfect lady's maid for Rebecca.
"Thank you, Finn," she said. "I'll do my best to be on time."
"Oh, that's all right," Finn said as he lingered in the doorway, obviously warming to the idea of Brittany's enforced fragility. "I'm sure Artie will understand if you're a little late. It never hurts to make an entrance, you know. Well then, I'll see you at dinner. Don't overdo things now."
With this final piece of advice, he stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him. Brittany continued to lie in bed, counting off the moments until she could be reasonably certain Finn was at the end of the hall in his own suite of rooms once more.
One, one thousand. Two, one thousand…
Abruptly, Brittany realized that she was gripping the quilt so hard her hands ached, biting her lower lip so hard the taste of blood filled her mouth like bitter copper. She threw back the quilt and swung her feet out of bed. She had her coat back on, one hand holding the hat to the top of her head by the time she reached the wardrobe.
Brittany knew she should take a moment to thrust her hatpin through the crown of the hat and into the coil of her own long hair, but she was afraid to take the time to do so, now that absolutely every second counted.
Grasping her heavy carpet bag firmly in one hand, Brittany moved silently to her bedroom door and eased it open. The upstairs hall was empty, silent. Now all she had to do was to make it down the stairs and out the front door before Emma started up the stairs to help her.
The truth was, Brittany had hoped for more time, time enough to get safely to the train station before anyone missed her. The fact that Finn had summoned a servant to help her dress meant that Brittany's absence would be noticed almost at once. It seemed time was a luxury she'd just have to be prepare to do without.
And I'll have even less of it, she thought, the longer I stand here hesitating. She had to go, go now, and hope that even the small advantage of surprise she might still have would be enough.
Closing her bedroom door silently behind her, Brittany tiptoed down the hall, her long skirts whispering as she moved rapidly down the staircase. She had actually reached the bottom and was reaching for the front door when she was pulled up short.
"Why, Miss Brittany!"
Instantly, Brittany whirled around, pressing a desperate finger to her lips. "You didn't see me," she whispered. "Please, Emma."
Emma's already large hazel eyes grew as round as teacups as she took in Brittany's appearance. It was plain she wasn't dressed for dinner. Emma's fingers plucked nervously at the front of her apron; her mouth puckered, as if she was trying not to cry.
How young she is, Brittany thought. Emma couldn't be more than fourteen, but she'd been hard at work since before sunup. Her day wouldn't stop until the family had all retired for the night. My life may become just like hers once I leave here, Brittany thought.
"But what are you doing? Where are you going, Miss Brittany?" Emma stammered out. "If the master should find out I saw you and then said nothing—"
"It's all right," Brittany said at once, moving away from the front door to lay a hand on Emma's arm. The girl was so frightened she was shivering.
"You don't have to worry about my stepbrother," Brittany said reassuringly. She set down her carpet bag to grasp Emma by both shoulders. "He won't find out. We're all alone. No one can see us or overhear us, Emma."
She watched as the young servant drew a deep, quavering breath. Slowly the shivering stopped.
"What do you want me to do, miss?" Emma asked.
Brittany felt relief spiral through her, though she knew she couldn't feel safe just yet. She was still a long way from the train depot.
"Just go on upstairs to my room. When you see I'm not there, raise the alarm just the way you normally would have. My stepbrother will be so angry with me, he won't have time to think about you. Just don't try to stop me from going. That's all I ask, Emma."
If possible, Emma's eyes grew even rounder. Now, Brittany could plainly see they were filled with tears. "But where will you go? What will you do?" the young servant whispered.
They were good questions, Brittany thought. The same ones she'd been asking herself since yesterday evening, almost endlessly. The fact that she still didn't have good answers didn't mean she could afford to stop her plans now.
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I only know that I can't stay here, Emma. I don't belong here. Can you understand that?"
The younger girl nodded, swallowing back her tears. "I think so," she answered slowly. "The master and his wife, they don't care for anyone except themselves."
When she realized what she had said, she blushed scarlet to the roots of her thick, auburn hair. On impulse, Brittany threw her arms around her.
"You do understand. Bless you, Emma. Go upstairs, now, and don't look back. I'll be gone before you know it."
Emma straightened her shoulders. "All right," she said, giving her eyes a quick dab with the edge of her apron. "I'll do it. You've always been kind to me—to all of us. I guess this is the only way I can return the favor. Just—please—be careful, miss."
"I will," Brittany promised, surprised to find her own throat thick with tears. "And I won't forget you, Emma."
She picked up her carpet bag, walked swiftly to the front door, twisted the knob, and pulled it open. She could feel how cold the wind was, even from inside the house.
Clamping her teeth down on the sudden urge to shiver, Brittany stepped out onto the front step. But, as she turned to close the door, a sudden gust of wind struck her. Her unpinned hat sailed from her head. Instinctively, she spun around, grabbing for it.
The front door slipped from her grasp and slammed shut behind her.
A/N: Dun, dun, duuuunnnnn! Oh, the suspense! ;) Hehe, I make myself laugh :') Ahem. Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
P.S. For those of you waiting for the epilogue of Impossible to Ignore...please be patient; I'm working on it. I just really want to make it good for you guys, and it's taken me longer than usual to come up with a good idea for it. :/ So...hopefully by next week I'll finally have something for you! :D