Author's Note: Slow/short-ish chapter in which I apologise for! Enjoy, nonetheless! Revised on January 9. 2011.
Chapter II
Preparing
I didn't really move for a few hours or so at the least.
I couldn't move. I was frozen to my seat with fear. I'd never been more scared of marriage to this hideous monster in my life. People would be at the ball. People! These people would laugh at me.
'Oh, that poor girl!' I can hear their voices taunting me. 'Poor girl, having to be tied down to a man such as Lord Dalton. Ah well, better her than me! Anybody up for more punch?'
That's right. Worry about your punch more than the future of a helpless girl. God, Fitzwilliam will be expecting children soon… No, I can't do this.
I brought myself to stand up, legs still trembling insanely. Fitzwilliam must know! He must be positive I'm scared out of my mind. Maybe he likes that in 'his women' too. Sam's on my side. He believes me.
Well, I think he does. I hope he does.
I sighed, thinking of my ginger-haired best friend. We hardly see one another any more, but he never fails to pass by my room for a talk whenever he's delivering anything to Lord Dalton. He passes by my window too. Thank goodness the thing opens! I'm not sure Fitzwilliam knows about that little detail, and I'm not eager on telling him; he'd have it locked and the key thrown to Davy Jones' Locker.
I figured Sam would be here soon to deliver my new dress to Fitzwilliam. I could ask him to help me get out of this mess before it's too late.
Before I was to be married.
Before I was to be eternally doomed.
Once again, I heaved a sigh. I wasn't planning any further than asking Sam for a passage away from this place. I knew I'd be searched for and I knew I could be putting other people's lives in danger.
I also knew I wanted freedom.
And I also knew, glancing out of my window, Sam was on his way up here, right now…
x
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It's strange. I could recognise the tone of Sam's knock against millions. There are things you notice when you're trapped. It's pathetically sad in a strange way.
"Sam!" I practically yelled his name, throwing open the heavy door, ignoring the struggle of it.
Seeing him in the doorway made me smile. I couldn't stop myself from hurling my short build at his 6 foot muscled one, burying my face into his chest.
"Um… 'ello, Cat," he said in his thick cockney brogue. "Excited for Lord Dalton's ball, are we?"
I pulled myself away, gazing up at Sam's slightly smirking face, beginning to gnaw on my bottom lip. "I don't want to go Sam," I let my words flow; "I don't want to marry him. I don't want to be here…"
Sam watched me. Sometimes I feel he's not the most confident around Lord Dalton either. I mean Sam – Sam in all his brawn and strength! In fact, I'm not sure anyone's entirely secure around Fitzwilliam. I think a part of him is so overpowering, I haven't met a single being with at least a small part of them dedicated with fear to the Lord.
"I know, Cat," he muttered, blankly. "But ya could always decline his offer, ya know? Offer to marry ya?"
I shook my head, feebly. "I already agreed," I whispered in such a small voice it was hardly audible. "I'm too scared of him to disagree with anything he says. He's stolen my life and won't give it back, Sam… I don't know what else to do!"
I did know what to do. I knew I had to run away. But I was putting off telling Sam that… it must just be in my nature to be a coward.
"Ya do make a point," he agreed with me, "It seems whatever ya do, 'e's not gonna back off on ya, Cat. If only we knew why…"
Slightly, my eyes widened. Should I tell him about the dream? No. It's probably not even true… just a fragment of my imagination… but I was certain I had to say something linking to my 'escape';
"Sam?"
He turned to me; clearly he was plotting something of some sort too. "Mmm?" he replied, chewing on his thumb-nail.
I inhaled, deeply. "I… if there's a distraction at the ball tomorrow then… I can…"
Why couldn't I finish that sentence? I suppose I was just waiting for Sam to realize where I was going with this. Thankfully, he did; though his reply didn't sound as promising as I had suspected;
"Look, Cat, I know ya wanna get outta 'ere, but that's really not the way t' do it…" he responded, dryly.
I felt like my heart was sinking. "But, Sam, there's no other way," I retorted in such a small voice I could barely hear myself speak.
To my relief, he nodded in agreement, but he was still unconvinced, I could see.
"So, yer too scared to say 'no' to the man, but yer not a tiny bit frightened of runnin' away from 'im?" He stopped here to scratch beneath his untameable ginger hair, "It don't make any sense, Cat!"
Now it was my turn to argue. "It does. If I say 'no' to his face, I'm scared of what he'll do to me. If I say 'no' by fleeing from him, the worst he can do is chase after me!" I thought it was a strong argument, but trust Sam to have a comeback;
"And then when 'e catches you, 'e'll just do what he would've done to ya if you just said 'no' to 'is face! It's a stupid plan, Cat. You just leave it t' me; I promised ya I'd come up with somethin', remember?"
I couldn't avoid that part; he did promise. He promised he'd get me out of here and away from Fitzwilliam… but he hadn't yet found out how, when the solution was right in front of him the whole time.
I coughed back my words. "Y-you're right, Sam," I finally brought myself to say, "I won't go. I'll stay here. I'll wait for you to get me out of this mess."
I was lying. I could analyse it with no doubt. I've never been a good liar; but it was this time Sam didn't detect anything.
He just smiled at me, proudly. "Good on ya, Kitten," he announced. "I better go before I 'ave ya changin' yer mind on me."
A wink of his blue eye was flashed in my direction as he turned for the door. I hated seeing Sam leave; he was the only friend I have… and now he was the friend I had to leave behind.
I clenched my fists together, gnawing on my bottom lip so it would seem I was attempting to cut through the skin as the door slammed shut on me. For once, I didn't care what Sam thought; he obviously didn't know how terrible and nerve-wracking it actually was to be trapped; doomed to marry a man who I was certain had so much power within him, he could destroy kingdoms… perhaps even countries!
And I would escape him; I don't even care what might happen to me.
I began to sweat with anxiousness thinking about it. I would have no distractions at the ball to sneak out… unless I provided one myself, of course… Then – say if I did manage to sneak out – where was there to go?
I could go down to Cornwall, I suppose… somewhere by the coast where no-one would be able to trace my tracks if I got on a ship there to take me to the Caribbean… I'd decided a long time ago I would go to the Caribbean if I got away from England… something seems to have drawn me there… I can't even be sure why… It must just be somewhere in my blood.
I shook my head, inhaling sharp breaths. I could get away from here… maybe the idea was extreme and unlikely to work… but that doesn't mean it couldn't.
My planning would need a little work, but I had tomorrow night to plan… and why should I sleep? All I would do is dream terrible dreams of how he took me from my mother, of how he ruined my life.
Although, I could debate, I may dream about how I could change this life I was tied to.
