Independence & Consequences by M J Marlow (best color ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Independence & Consequences Caught between two brothers, Isabel becomes a tool for vengeance. The wind whipping the rain up against the windows disturbed the young girl sitting on the window seat with a book in her lap, with a frown on her face. She had just been subjected to another of her mother’s edicts and she was angry. She couldn’t believe that her mother was actually planning to send her to a prep school. She had hoped that, just once, she would be able to make a choice for herself. Why had she thought that she had a choice in the matter of where she was going to high school and college? Her entire life every choice had been made for her by her uncle and her mother. Isabel knew her mother only wanted what was best for her but as she grew older she did not want the life Olivia was designing for her. There was no room for independent thought, or freedom to do what she wanted. The books she could read were chosen for her; the clothing she wore was chosen for her. At no time was she given a voice in any aspect of her life. She took to hiding books around the house that she knew her mother did not approve of, so that she had some idea of what was being taken from her. As she got older, Isabel began to feel more like a prisoner than a member of a family. Isabel froze as she heard the door open and her mother’s footsteps hurrying across the floor. She had been so deep in thought that she had lost track of the woman’s whereabouts; and that always meant trouble. Olivia grabbed the book before Isabel could hide it, took one look at the title and tossed it aside. Her look of censure cut the girl to the quick; she was about to be punished, or, at the very least, lectured about what she had just been reading. She steeled herself for the worst. “How many times have I told you that you shouldn’t waste your time reading such trash?” Olivia exclaimed as she dragged Isabel off the window seat. “Why can’t you listen to me, Bel? I only want what’s best for you.” “No you don’t,” Isabel cried out, hurt by what she considered an unfair invasion of her privacy. “You only think of yourself!” “How dare you speak to me like that!” Olivia screamed. She grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair and yanked, enjoying the cry of pain. “I am your mother! You will do as I say!” Her mother slapped her and Isabel looked at her in outright shock. Olivia had never struck her before; all of her past punishments had been in the form of lectures or revoked privileges. Why was it so important all of the sudden for her not to argue? Thinking about it, Isabel realized that there had been a sense of desperation about her mother lately, as if some deadline were looming and Isabel wasn’t ready. She didn’t think it had anything to do with the dance recital on Friday. Something far more serious was coming up; something Isabel had a strange feeling she was not going to like. Olivia grabbed her arm painfully and kept hold of her arm all the way downstairs to the dance studio. “Now, miss,” Olivia said as she took a seat at the piano, “let’s work on your routine for Friday.” She began to play as Isabel warmed up. Since it wasn’t the music for the recital, Isabel continued to stretch her muscles. She could already feel herself preparing for the dance in her mind. It was one place she could completely lose herself; forget what Olivia was doing to her. As the music ended, she took her first position and waited. The music began and she moved through one of Clara’s solos from the Nutcracker Suite. Her movements were graceful, natural, and Olivia was quite impressed with the girl. Isabel moved with an assurance that one would have expected from a more mature and experienced dancer. It was a shame she couldn’t pursue a career in ballet, Olivia thought; but Gordon had other plans for his niece. During one of the rare moments when she actually cared, Olivia knew that if Isabel were her daughter she would be trying out for the American Ballet Theater by now. The dance ended and Isabel sank down on the floor to go through relaxation exercises. “Mrs. Chambers?” the maid said as she knocked on the doorframe. “There’s a call for you.” “Thank you, Sarah,” Olivia nodded. She looked over at Isabel. “When you’re through here, Isabel, I want you to get your French book and join me in the study.” “Yes, Mother.” Isabel knew not to argue. It was apparent that her mother was not going to allow it. Her face still stung from where she had been struck earlier. So she finished what she was doing and rose to her feet. She played the music in her head; the repeated practices for the past month having engrained the dance in her memory. She moved through the solo again just for the sheer fun of it. She came to the end and was startled when she heard clapping. She turned to see a tall, dark-haired man standing in the doorway. There was a look in his eye that made Isabel feel very uneasy. She turned to grab a towel and put it around her neck. “Do I know you?” Isabel asked as she used the towel to dry off. “I’m a friend of your mother,” the man replied, smiling at her in a friendly manner. “My name is Roger Hancock.” “Was she expecting you, Mr. Hancock?” Isabel asked, confused. Why would her mother ask her to join her in a French lesson if she were expecting company? “She’s upstairs in the study.” She moved towards the door and he remained in her way. “Please let me pass. I have to get my books…” “You can spare me a few moments, girl,” Roger said in a silken voice as he reached up to touch her cheek. Isabel backed away from his touch and looked up at him puzzled. “Your mother was right to keep you hidden. You are quite extraordinary.” “Please let me pass,” Isabel asked, wondering what it was about this man that made her so frightened. “Mother will not like it if I am late for my lesson.” “I could think of a lesson I’d like to teach you,” Roger smiled as he grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her close. “A little sex education?” He ran a finger along her jaw line. “You’re old enough to start…” You are not here to paw my daughter, Roger,” Olivia’s cold voice hissed from behind him. “Isabel, the French lesson can wait,” she continued as Roger let Isabel go and stepped away. “I want you to go up to your room and change. We’re going into town.” “Yes, Mother,” Isabel replied. She moved out of the room quickly, eyeing the man nervously as she passed him. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard the sounds of a blow being struck as she went up the stairs. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but something about the man bothered her. She crept back down the stairs and only stopped when she could hear their voices. They were still in the studio and they were having a heated argument about her. “I tell you Olivia,” Roger was saying as Isabel stopped on the stairs. “This can’t miss. The girl looks enough like her to pass. They’ll think the differences are from the other side of the family.” “I don’t want to involve her in this, Roger,” Olivia protested. “Isabel has no knack for lying. She is the most honest person I have ever met in my life.” “You’d rather tell her that her parents are common folk,” Roger asked her. “When you could have her ingratiate herself into one of the most powerful families in the States?” “She belongs with her family, Roger,” Olivia hissed. “The two women were sisters. Who they married shouldn’t be important.” “What we can get out of this is!” the man retorted sharply. “Did you hear something?” There was a pause and Isabel took off up the stairs as she heard footsteps coming out of the studio. She took a shower and was pulling a pair of high-heeled boots on when Olivia came to join her. Olivia looked over the outfit her daughter had selected, a calf-length belted dress in a soft blue wool jersey, and nodded. Isabel had good taste in clothing; nothing flamboyant, just classic and simply elegant. The girl reminded her of a young Grace Kelly, Olivia thought. “I apologize for Mr. Hancock,” Olivia said as she reached into Isabel’s closet and pulled out a jacket. “It could be chilly by the time we come back,” she explained as she handed it to the girl. “Take this along.” Isabel did as she was told and followed Olivia out of the house. She got behind the wheel of the Mercedes, pleased to be trusted with such a task. She had passed her driver’s license test and had hoped it would allow her freedom; but Olivia only allowed her to drive if someone were with her. In fact, Isabel was never allowed to go anywhere without someone else along. She drove into the town she had never been allowed to enter and followed Olivia’s directions to an upscale ladies salon. Isabel parked the car in front and followed her mother inside. What were they doing in such a place? As far as Isabel was aware, they were not wealthy enough to afford such luxuries. “My daughter will be needing a complete wardrobe eventually,” Olivia told the woman who came forward to greet them. “For tonight, however, we need apparel suitable for a young woman to attend her first opera.” “Opera?” Isabel was astounded. They never went anywhere. Her only exposure to opera had been through the CDs and records and piano pieces that Olivia had played for her as she grew up. “We’re going to an opera?” “You are going to the opera,” Olivia corrected her. “With your uncle.” She saw Isabel’s excited expression die, replaced by confusion. “It is time you were re-introduced to your family.” “Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Isabel saw her mother flinch and knew she had guessed it. This visit to town, the opera, meeting her family, it had all been triggered by something recent. “Was it the phone call, or something Mr. Hancock said to you?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl,” Olivia frowned. This child had always been very intuitive. It had annoyed Olivia when the child was young, now it terrified her. “You’re at an age now where you need the input of other people.” “That’s not it, Mother,” Isabel shook her head, noting the woman’s nervousness. She laid her hand on Olivia’s arm, her eyes filled with concern. “Please tell me what’s wrong. Perhaps I can help…” “The less you know, child,” Olivia told her sadly, “the safer you will be.” She patted Isabel’s hand and looked as if she were going to say something for a moment. Then she shook her head and turned away. “This is not finding you a dress. Pay attention to the models.” Isabel knew that her opportunity to find out more was lost. She sighed and turned to watch as the models paraded past in various gowns. One after another was discarded for one fault or another. Several Isabel wouldn’t have minded having, and she was disappointed when they did not pass her mother’s scrutiny. Some of the gowns