Page 4 of The Blind Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)
Her mother waved a hand as the carriage came to a halt. The vehicle rocked as the driver jumped down. “In truth, it is the Lyon’s Den gaming hell, but it is where we are going to meet Bessie Dove-Lyon. She has a lovely apartment on the second floor, but she owns the entire operation.”
Shock rolled through Annette as she gawked at her mother, while the driver opened the carriage door and put down the steps.
Whyever would her mother come to such a place, and why would she continue to be friends with a woman who owned such an establishment?
“I don’t think this is a place either of us should go into, Mama,” she said quietly.
“Don’t be silly, dear. There is nothing untoward about it, especially at this time of the day. The gaming hell doesn’t open for business until nine in the evening.”
As if that made everything better?
But there was nothing for it. Her mother exited the carriage, then the driver extended a hand to Annette, assisting her down the steps and to the pavement in front of the building.
She exchanged a speaking glance with him—he’d been in her father’s employ for ages—but he said nothing.
Neither did she. Instead, she followed her mother to a nondescript door at the right side of the blue building.
Their knock was answered by a large woman whose black hair had been scraped into a severe bun, while a black dress in a simple, plain design clad her body. Her deep-set eyes were cold as she bounced her gaze between them.
“Why are you here?”
Her mother wasn’t put off by the brusque manner. “Lady Danvers, or rather Mrs. Ballinger, to see Mrs. Dove-Lyon. My daughter—Mrs. Jennings—and I have an appointment.”
“Very well. Follow me.”
With a glance at Annette, her mother went inside, and she followed.
It was a narrow, unassuming corridor. There was an equally narrow set of wooden stairs at the end where they were taken up to the second floor.
Then there was a corridor that split with one end continuing along the length of the building while the other jogged to the left.
They were led to the left, and after passing two closed doors, the severe woman in black led them into a surprisingly feminine parlor which was decorated in shades of pink, mauve, light green, and ivory.
A cheerful fire danced in the hearth behind an ornamental metal grate in the design of a swan, and its heat was most welcome since the rain had made it a bit chilly.
Comfortable-looking chairs and ottomans were scattered throughout the room.
Occasional tables dotted the floor, with a low rose-inlaid table in the midst of a grouping of furniture no doubt for tea and entertaining.
An Aubusson rug in complementary colors covered a good portion of the hardwood floor, while heavy, mauve velvet draperies hung at the window.
The woman in black invited them to sit. “I will let Mrs. Dove-Lyon you are here.”
A few moments later, a different woman came into the room, and Annette didn’t even bother to hide her curiosity.
Of average height, the woman’s form would tend toward matronly in a few years, but her gown of navy serge suited her frame and kept her shape in ambiguity.
The most exceptional part of her outfit was the fact she wore a smart hat with trailing veils that just barely obscured the whole of her face and hair.
With a nod to them both, Mrs. Dove-Lyon selected a chair away from the windows and the fireplace that kept her partially in the shadows.
“It is good to see you again, Janet. Unfortunately, it has been an age since we were last in each other’s company.”
“This is true. We have both lived what seems a few lifetimes since that carefree time before we were both wed.” Her mother offered a smile. “Thank you for making time to see me and my daughter, Annette.”
“How could I not? After what you told me in your letter, I found myself intrigued.” The other woman rested her hands on the arms of her chair.
She tapped out an irregular rhythm on one of the wooden rests with a fingernail.
“You wish me to match your daughter with a husband.” It wasn’t a question.
“I assume you wish said husband to have a title?”
Her mother shook her head. “That matters not to me; I merely want her wed, to help pull her out of the miasma of emotion she has fallen into for the past few years.”
“Of course. The loss of her first husband.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s tone was polite enough, but there was an excitement, a hunger underlying that sent a shiver down Annette’s spine.
The owner of the gaming hell gestured with a hand.
“Stand up for me, Mrs. Jennings. I’d like a look at you before making my decision. ”
For the first time since walking into the parlor, Annette found her voice. “That is quite high-handed of you, isn’t it, Mrs. Dove-Lyon? I am not a piece of cattle up for auction at Tattersalls.”
“That may be so, but how can I match you with the man best suited for you if I can’t catalogue your looks and personality?
” Beneath the veils, her eyes narrowed and her crimson lips, no doubt made that hue with cosmetics, slowly curved into a smile.
“Now, I’ll ask again, please stand.” Her voice brooked no argument.
“Do this for me,” her mother urged. “It is the reason we are here.”
If they were desperate enough to reduce her mother to begging, there was surely no hope that Annette could wriggle out of this demented plan. With a huff of annoyance, she stood.
“Come closer, Mrs. Jennings.” Rings flashed on the woman’s hand as she gestured.
“I don’t want to marry again.”
“That matters not.”
“Of course it does. I am not strong enough to survive having my heart broken again.”
“One needn’t have love to marry.” She gestured with her hand. “Turn about.”
As hot humiliation rose within her chest, Annette did as bid. A tiny part of her took pride in the gown of daffodil taffeta with the white sash about the waist, and the white lace that lined the simple bodice. “It is unseemly that you wish to match me based on looks.”
“Not on that alone.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon chuckled. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. Why you choose to hide it beneath fear and grief, I’ll never know.” She shrugged. “I was devastated when I lost my husband, but there is living to do, tasks to finish, and a future to secure.”
“Then you are stronger than I.” Even now, that fear welled within her, and it was only held back by a thin hold.
“That is a falsehood, but until you discover the truth for yourself, you will always remain trapped.” The other woman’s lips pulled down in a frown. “Don’t you wish for companionship, to be a mother, to have everything you have ever wanted?”
Annette’s lips quivered. A sheen of tears rose into her eyes. “Not at the expense of another broken heart, and I have failed twice at being a mother. That simply isn’t a dream I shall know in fulfilment, and one you can’t guarantee just by a match.”
“Mmm, you are correct, but consigning yourself to loneliness is not the answer.” She tsked her tongue. “A touch too thin, but eating well will change that. There is no light in your eyes, and you frown far too much, but I can work with what I have.”
Her mother pushed to her feet. “Does that mean you’ll agree to match her?”
“Well, her fear and aversion to leaving the house or even her room or will prove a challenge, but have you come prepared to pay for the service?” One of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s eyebrows rose in question. “Without payment, we can’t proceed.”
Annette gasped. “You are going to pay to see me married?”
“It is how such things work, dear.” Quickly, her mother dug into her reticule and then pulled out an envelope. “This is a bank note promising you the spoken value that you can exchange at the Bank of England.”
“Thank you.” As soon as the other woman took the envelope, it immediately disappeared with the voluminous sleeve of her gown. “I have just the man in mind for your daughter. In fact, I had cause to speak with him just last night, though he believes he’ll be matched with someone else.”
Slowly, Annette shook her head. “I don’t want to do this.” She put a hand to her throat. It felt as if all the air was being sucked from the room. “Having another husband…” Her breath became labored. “It’s a betrayal to my Timothy.”
Her mother made a sound of annoyance. “He is gone, dear. Do you truly think he would want you to be alone and unhappy?”
“I suppose not, but to have someone else in my life? To know they will die?” Tears welled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.
“Papa is going to leave me soon enough. How I survive that?” A bit of hysteria rose in her chest. “I need to stay safe, to lock myself away so I don’t go through all of that hurt again.
” Deep down, she knew life and death were two sides of the same coin, but losing her husband had nearly broken her.
Going through that all over again might send her to the brink of insanity and darkness once more.
She had barely climbed out of that pit the last time, and it had left her terrified of everything.
I don’t wish to go there a second time.
The veiled woman regarded her once more. “Dear Annette, there is surviving and then there is living. You have only managed one of those, but it is my hope that will change with time… and the right circumstances.” She shrugged. “Or perhaps a cat.”
“I don’t want a cat.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon chuckled. “I rather think you don’t have a choice if fate is willing to bring a cat into your life.
” She turned to address Annette’s mother.
“I shall be in touch when there are details to know. After that, you’ll be able to plan for the nuptial ceremony.
In the meantime, enjoy preparing to see your daughter wed and know that your husband will be at peace once her future is settled. ”
“Thank you, Bessie. You have no idea how much I appreciate your assistance.”
And that was that. Her life was once more not her own, and she had no say in it. Annette stifled the urge to retch. Why couldn’t they leave her alone?