Guarding the Treasure (8 page)

“What's happened to her, what's going to change her life Kevin?”

Anya sat grimly on a stone bench in the eastern garden, far from the castle. She held herself, gently rocking back and forth in the cool darkness as a small child. She was hidden away in the secret place of her youth. It was more overgrown with wildflowers, unkempt shrubs, and vines that touched the tall fantailed grasses than she remembered. Yet it was still a wonderful place of solitude and protection from the outside world. Protection from those within the walls of the estate, even from those within her own family circle who would choose to harm her. In the past, she had used this part of the garden to be alone with good thoughts or to escape punishment for misbehavior. But today it was to escape her mind and her feelings, an attempt to purge the body of the physical and mental touches of a man she didn't love, a man she did even know.

“Mother,” Anya whispered through cracked lips, “how do I wash my mind as I have tried to wash my body of this man?” She cradled her face in her hands, softly weeping, her tears soaking into her pale yellow dress.

“How do I ever look my brother in the face for what he has taken from me? And for what, a business deal? You, Mother, instructed me to keep myself pure for the man who would love me and want me for his wife. I would have done that—really, I would have—but how can I now?” Her tears ran faster and began to thicken her eyes, her head pounding in deep colorless agony. Anya's mind tortured her for hours in the dark of the garden's secret place. How would she survive the gloom that had grown within her, this feeling of total despair? She caressed the diary she thought to bring with her, opening it, wanting to read her mother's first entry.

“Dear diary. You are my third book and will take a course not traveled by my words before. I find myself with an illness that will soon take my life, and I have deep sorrow within, not for myself or my husband, but for my children. My son is much like his father, and I fear will increasingly emulate him, possibly to his own destruction. To that, I shed many tears. And diary, my beautiful Anya is my heart's tear. She is more beautiful than she knows and grows in her beauty each day. I have kept her from the wiles of this age, perhaps to her great loss. Many at her age are married or living loose unrefined lives. I have never wanted either option for her. I have wanted the taste of true romance and the deep love of a man who would care for her and be true to her as long as they both would live. If I have taken anything from her, I hope one day she will forgive me and know it was my love for her that fought to keep her pure.”

Anya put her face in the fold of the pages, trying to breathe deeply of it, to regain the precious woman now lost to her. “Oh Mother, you have done a great service to me, and I will always thank you for keeping me innocent of what I could have become,” she whispered as if talking face to face with the dead.

Lifting her head, Anya touched her pen to the empty page. Her trembling hand began to stroke out the mounted feelings welled up in her.

“My mind is in anguish in the dark of this garden. How can I put into view the dimness that has draped my mind? One day, Mother, I will be redeemed, and others will know what you have done for me.”

She ceased writing, turning the diary to run her fingers over the name on the back cover. Suddenly, there was an ever darkening gloom forcing its way into her mind, just as Mr. Dubois had forced himself onto her body. She couldn't shake from it. Anya stood, wanting to start back to the castle, but hesitated. What was holding her back?

The day was approaching evening, and long shadows had fallen, creating an elusive eeriness and spooking her thoughts.

“I will gain my strength from your writings, Mother, and I will learn— without the knowledge of my brother—what rests beyond the walls of this fine estate,” Anya declared under her breath.

She felt deception swell in her chest. It was never the way of her mother, but always the way of her father, and now that of Sean. She, too, could use it as a tool of her choosing, she reasoned. Drawing in a long breath, Anya released a half smile and started up the path toward the castle. “In time, I will receive my victory,” she whispered.

Sean slouched lazily in the atrium as she entered by the side door. He ran his eyes over her, enjoying what they feasted upon.

“Well done, little one,” he said, rising from his reclining position on the couch.

Anya gasped, gripped by the sound of her brother's voice. She stood frozen just a matter of steps from the door.

Sean bowed low and then made his way to her. He breathed long of her hair. “You smell of the grasses in the garden, lass,” he said, gently taking her hands. “I must tell you. You have made me a very wealthy man,” he said, kissing her damp skin.

Anya looked into his eyes and saw nothing but cold, dark stones looking back at her, more sinister than two nights earlier.

“Mr. Dubois had a most enjoyable time with you. He has requested that I send you to him in France in a short while,” he held her arm firmly, leading her to the couch.

“I have agreed to do so, Anya, but in time.” Sean motioned for her to sit, pouring himself some black drink and dropping beside her onto the couch. He leaned back and caressed her cheek. “But before I send you off for a moon's cycle, I have others you are going to meet.”

Anya felt the sting of hot tears in the corners of her eyes. She sat, not moving as her chest tightened at the unpleasant sound in her brother's voice. Her inner defiance was not allowed to be expressed, as she knew she was under her brother's complete control while Father was away. But that didn't stop the seed of hatred planted in her heart from growing. The feeling became stronger with each word dripping from Sean's lips.

Anya's nostrils stank of putrid offal. She felt as if she would vomit all over the floor, spewing refuse at Sean's feet. Indeed, how could she allow such odium to enter her mind? But more than her mind, her entire body had grown to loathe Sean, her own brother. Her eyes locked in on her brother, the man she hated beyond reason.

Sean watched her body stiffen at his words. Seeing her discomfort gave him a rush unsurpassed by his many liaisons and lovers. “You will prove to be valuable in my aim to exceed Father's business efforts little one.” He tipped his head back for another drink as laughter rolled from deep within him.

“Poor Father, little does he know what lies ahead for his shipping business, not to mention his contracts with the government.” Sean reached to touch her cheek again. Caressing it gently, he spoke with an unnatural hiss in his voice. “And you are going to be what I use to entice those contracts into my hands,” he said, looking deep into her tear-filled eyes.

“Mr. O'Connell,” Colleen's gentle voice broke the tension. “Dinner will be served at your request, sir.”

Colleen glanced at Anya, noticing something she had not seen in the young woman's eyes before. Behind the tears, Colleen saw a vein of coldness. Startled, she quickly lowered her head, waiting for Mr. O'Connell's answer about dinner.

Sean raised himself from the couch. “Will you join me, dear sister?” he said, his words quiet and gentle as he stood holding his hand out to her.

Her stomach oily, Anya put her hand in his and rose.

Sean watched Colleen moving about the room, noting her coached, graceful movements, but even more how well-formed she was. Why had he not noticed her before? She was but a few years older than he, not married, and possibly a tool he could use when the need arose.

“Colleen?” Sean said, stopping her before she entered the kitchen.

“Yes, Mr. O'Connell, is there something I can get for you?”

“Colleen, didn't my father ask you to assist Anya in the female issues that may arise in his absence, those things that Mother would have taken care of?”

Colleen glanced at Anya for approval then faced her superior, Mr. O'Connell. “Yes, he did Mr. O'Connell. Am I not performing to your satisfaction, sir?”

“No, you are performing as requested, but there is one thing I would like you to do. Tomorrow, would you take Anya with you to Dool and help her pick out a new dress?”

Sean looked to his sister, noting the sudden way her mouth opened in surprise. “We have a very important dinner to attend Anya, and I would like you to be the center of attention.” He turned from her to address Colleen.

Anya interrupted his thoughts. “What dinner are you referring to, brother?” she asked calmly, biting her lip to keep from screaming at him.

Sean ignored her. “Colleen, that will be all,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. He strode to the side of the table, close to his sister's chair.

“Sean, why do you treat me as a child and—” Anya stopped, feeling the heat of rage build as he leaned on the table next to her. She turned to him. “I am eighteen years old, old enough to be married and have children, yet you think of me as one with no mind, one who cannot make decisions for herself?” She stood quickly, pushing her chair back with force. “I know when I need a new dress, Sean, and I know if I want to attend dinners with you, and—”

“You will stop with your outburst right now, Anya.” Sean's eyes cut through her. “I have made it clear to you what you will do and when you will do it.”

He stood erect, turning his back to her. “I told you earlier that you will be useful in my business dealings, and I will not allow your childish manner to get in my way.” He turned back to her, pivoting on one heel, taking hold of her shoulders forcefully. “Do you understand me?”

Fear gripped her for a second time as she felt Sean's hands now closing tightly around her neck. He looked as if he would do her in and put her in an open grave simply for spite. Anya nodded her head. “Aye, dear brother, I will do as you say,” she pressed from her vocal cords, thankfully feeling her throat open as he loosened his grip.

“Don't push me, little one,” he said, putting his finger firmly to her lips. “And concerning the dress, make it something more eye-catching, more revealing. I want you to be as sensuous as possible.”

He gave a sick laugh as he removed his finger and left. Thankfully, he would be away for the rest of the evening.

She stood looking after him as he strode away, wearing his pride. Anya heard the door shut behind him.

“I hate him so much, Mother,” she said, putting her hands to her heart. “I know he is of your body, and he is my brother, but how could he use me like this, caring nothing of my feelings or what he is doing to me?”

She turned, wanting to find Colleen. She was nearly an arm's length behind her, watching also as Mr. O'Connell left the house. Anya fell into her arms weeping as the two sat down near the fireplace.

“I am sorry, Miss,” Colleen said, tears in her eyes. “I wish there was something I could do to change Mr. O'Connell's mind about the way he is treating you.”

She raised Anya's face from her breast. “Just know, search for caps, your mother would not approve of Mr. O'Connell using your body as a commodity to further his own interests and his greed.”

Anya's eyes opened wide as she finally understood. “Yes, my brother uses me as a prostitute.” Anya breathed in sharply as her mind repeated the word silently.
Prostitute.
Her heart burned with contempt for her brother as she thought about the evening at hand and what she would be expected to do.

“Colleen, help me. Tell me what to do,” she sobbed, grabbing Colleen's hands firmly, pleading with her through her steady stream of tears.

A deadening hush and quiet sobs were the only sounds for a great time. What could a mere servant do against a young, powerful man such as Mr. O'Connell? Colleen pushed Anya's blonde hair from her eyes.

“Miss,” Colleen said, “I am no use to you. I am powerless against your brother and his plans.” She looked straight into Anya's frantic green eyes as she spoke. “Please forgive me for what I am about to say, but your brother is evil and seeks power and revenge against your father. Miss, his vengeance is all that will satisfy his craving and sadly enough, people such as he will use the weakest among them to accomplish their plans.”

Colleen pulled Anya close. “Miss, this will not solve the problem at hand, but tomorrow when I go into Dool, you go with me. We will make your studies short so we can spend time together, away from the Castle Goregoo, aye?”

It was little reprieve, but it had been some time since Anya had traveled away from the castle. Except for the night with—

Anya shut her mind. “Yes, Colleen, I will go with you tomorrow,” she replied, quickly dismissing the dreadful night.

“Good, we will leave shortly after the morning tea. You can be ready?” Colleen's words stopped and her expectant eyes took over her request.

Anya nodded her head; a slim smile crossed her lips as she rose from Colleen's side. “Yes, and thank you for helping me, without you, I am not sure what I would do.”

She put her hands to her eyes and turned to leave. “Colleen?” she asked, looking back at the young servant sitting near the fireplace. “Will you always be for me, even if it means going against my brother?”

Colleen could see fear in her young subject's eyes. She smiled somberly, knowing a commitment like that, such as it was, could cost her job, or maybe more. “I swear to you, Miss, I will always be for you, no matter the cost.”

Anya nodded with no expression as she left. The bond between the two was beginning to tighten.

 

As they walked the short distance to Dool, the women agreed that the day was sunnier than usual.

“I'm glad we decided to go this way,” Anya said. “The countryside is so alive and vibrant.”

Colleen remained silent for a long minute. “Yes, it is, Miss. I have the privilege of enjoying the sights and sounds each morning on my way to the castle.” Her face was void of expression.