Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

O ne Week Later

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, you know.”

It was meant to be a joke, of course, but Henry did not laugh. He only shuddered. Anna swallowed hard, glad that she hadn’t already started getting changed.

The sun wasn’t quite up. The sky was streaked with pink and gold, but the chill of the night still hung over the fields. When Anna glanced out the window earlier, she saw mist creeping out of the distant trees.

Wasn’t there a rhyme about it? Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning.

But that was just superstition. It didn’t mean anything. It only meant, at worst, there’d be rain today. On her wedding day.

And then pebbles had clattered against her windowpane, and she’d peered down to the courtyard to see Henry standing down there, pale-faced.

He wasn’t wearing his wedding suit yet, but she assumed it wouldn’t take him as long to dress as it would take her.

She’d thrown open the door, and he’d climbed up the untrimmed ivy at the side of the house. It would be improper for him to come all the way into her room—they weren’t married yet —but he sat on the sill, straddling it.

There was a pinched, worried look in his eyes. For the first time since Anna had written to take Henry up on his offer to help her, she felt a pang of nervousness.

“What’s the matter?”

He sighed, twisting out to look at the still-distant sunrise.

“I… I told George about all of this. He was angry. Said I was ruining my life and yours. I haven’t dared ask for my brother’s opinion. You know he thinks me a great disappointment. You’re lucky you’ve never had to meet him.”

Anna bit her lip until she tasted copper. “I don’t want to ruin your life, Henry. We talked about this, though. You and I are great friends. If we marry, I’ll be able to take care of my mother and sisters. The wretched Earl of Downton can have the house for all I care, if he can get it, but he won’t get a single second more of our time. And nothing will change. We’ll still be friends—no more than friends if you want—and we’ll just go about our lives as usual. You can be an artist. Your family won’t have any hold on you once we’re married. You’ll be free . You… you can still have your art lessons. George can stay with us.”

There was silence after that.

“I’m being silly,” Henry said, at last. “I… I’m just panicking, I suppose. Marriage is so serious.”

Anna moved over to stand beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder. “You’re not silly. And it is serious. Henry, what you’re doing for me will change our lives.”

He swallowed hard, forcing a quick smile. “Would you be offended if I said that was what I was afraid of?”

“No. No, I’m not offended at all. We’ll get through this, you and I. I promise.”

Henry smiled again, but it was tight and strained. It didn’t reach his eyes. Anna could see fear dancing just under the surface. Fear and something else.

Panic. Panic, like an animal trapped in a snare.

You’re imagining things, she told herself. Everybody is nervous on their wedding day.

“I should go,” Henry said, interrupting her thoughts. “George… George promised to help me get ready for my wedding. I made him promise. After that, he’s going to Italy.”

Anna flinched. “ Italy ?”

“He’s half-Italian. He wants to go home, he says. He says I should stay and build a life with my wife.”

Henry’s voice was flat and miserable. His face was angled away from her again.

Anna swallowed hard. She reached out, touched his shoulder, and turned him to face her.

“I will talk to him,” she said, as firmly as she could manage. “After the ceremony, I promise.”

Henry nodded shortly. “You’re so clever, Anna. I’m sure you’ll sort everything out.”

The words didn’t seem to mean anything, as if he were just saying them for the sake of it. Before Anna could ask any further questions, however, Henry swung his leg over the sill and began to climb down.

“See you at our wedding,” he said in parting, flashing her a quick grin that seemed more like the old Henry than Anna had seen in the past week.

She smiled back, but he was already looking away, nimbly climbing down.

Anna kept watching until Henry reached the ground and then jogged nimbly across the unkempt grass. The mist swallowed him up.

“Looks like rain,” Daphne remarked for the tenth time.

“Stop it,” Emily hissed, digging her elbow into her sister’s ribs.

At seventeen, the twins had grown into tall, good-looking young ladies. Their debut would be next year. Of course, there was no money for even one London Season, let alone two. They couldn’t even afford half .

That will change, Anna reminded herself, tweaking a curl into place. She had borrowed poor Phoebe, Beatrice’s maid, for the day to look her best for the wedding.

When I marry Henry, we’ll have enough for ten Seasons.

Henry might only be a second son, but his family was wealthy. They would want for nothing.

She could almost taste the relief already. Freedom .

The ceremony, of course, was a simple one. A special license had been obtained for such a quick engagement, and there would be no wedding breakfast.

“You should know, there’ll likely be a crowd at the church,” Octavia remarked. “All of London is talking about you and Lord Henry.”

Anna allowed herself a small smile. Let them talk. It felt good to be the subject of good gossip rather than the usual talk of bankruptcy and disgrace.

She’d kept her wedding attire simple, too. She wore a plain white gown—which they had to borrow money from Henry to buy—and had borrowed some of her mother’s jewelry, the few items that hadn’t been sold or quietly pawned.

Emily had collected the flowers, along with a delicate flower crown that Anna had insisted on wearing, despite her mother’s objections.

“It’s not traditional,” Octavia had insisted.

“I don’t care,” Anna had shot back. “Nothing about this wedding is traditional.”

There was silence after that.

“You don’t have to go through with the wedding.”

Anna shook her head. “I know. But Henry and I are friends. It’ll be a perfect marriage.”

Octavia had said nothing. She was still quiet, sitting in the corner of the room, watching her daughter get ready for her wedding.

“Girls,” she said abruptly, standing up, “why don’t you go and wait downstairs? I want a word with your sister.”

Emily bent down, pressing a kiss to Anna’s cheek. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

Daphne sighed. “Why can’t I stay, Mama?”

Octavia clapped her hands together. “ Out .”

She was obeyed. The door closed, and the two women stood in silence, facing each other.

“You don’t have to do this for us,” Octavia said quietly. “I… I loved your father. He wasn’t perfect, but I loved him so much. I don’t want you to miss out on that. Lord Henry is a fine man, but… well, friendship is not love .”

Anna drew in a deep breath. “I know, Mama. But I’ve made up my mind. I know what I’m doing.”

“You generally do.”

Anna turned to the mirror to inspect herself one last time. She was hardly the most beautiful bride in the world, regardless of what Emily had said, but…

Well, it would do.

“I’m ready,” she said firmly. “It’s time to go, Mama.”

As anticipated, the church was full.

Anna had arrived a little early, and she peered through the narrow crack between the doors. Almost every pew was full, with a few spaces left for her family and Henry’s.

If Henry’s family did arrive, of course. Frankly, Anna doubted it.

Just a few more minutes, she told herself, letting out a long, slow breath. Then I’ll be married, and I’ll be safe. We’ll all be safe.

“We should go inside,” she said firmly.

Octavia shot her a look. “Lord Henry isn’t here.”

“You’ll have to stop calling him Lord Henry once he’s your son-in-law.”

Octavia pressed her lips together. “Let’s wait out here until he arrives. Girls, go inside and wait.”

Daphne and Emily, perhaps sensing the rising tension, exchanged a look and hurried inside. When the door opened further, the sound of whispers and chatter drifted out. A few people glanced their way, spotting Anna.

She sighed. “Look, people have already noticed us, Mama. We’d better go in.”

“We should wait for Lord Henry to get here. Where is his best man? Is it his brother?”

Anna cleared her throat, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “No, his art tutor. His name is George, and he’s a dear friend of Henry’s. You know what a dandy Henry is—he’s probably spending extra time on his hair. I’m going in.”

Without giving her mother time to object, Anna shoved open the doors and strode purposefully down the aisle. Eyes bored into her, and there were murmurings and mutterings from all sides. Her cheeks began to burn, and she wondered if this was a good idea, after all.

Generally, weddings were straightforward. The bride walked down the aisle to her groom. Simple. The groom arrived first, to be ready to meet her.

I am early though, Anna silently mused, smiling tightly at the priest waiting at the altar. Five minutes early. Well, three. Henry’s late to everything.

The priest cleared his throat, before leaning towards her and dropping his voice. “Is everything alright, Miss Belmont?”

“Of course,” Anna responded evenly. “He’s just late, you know. The groom.”

The man nodded, smiling so sympathetically that Anna wanted to hit him. Not wanting to stay standing at the altar, she threw herself down onto the empty front pew. The girls were already sitting on the other end, whispering to each other. Octavia sailed down the aisle and sat beside them, and the whispering stopped.

The was a heavy clock hanging on the wall adjacent to the altar. Anna found her eyes drawn to it, again and again.

And again.

Five minutes (three!) ticked by. It was exactly ten o’clock, the arranged hour of the wedding. The door creaked open, and Anna leaped to her feet, only to find herself looking at a shamefaced latecomer scurrying to an empty seat.

Pitying stares were directed at her from the crowd. Beatrice was among them, visibly confused. Anna didn’t meet her eyes. Or anybody’s eyes. She sat back down in the front pew. Her hands tightened on the bouquet until a thorn pricked her fingertip, causing a flash of pain. A smear of blood stained the white fabric. Cursing under her breath, she arranged her bouquet to hide it.

Five minutes past.

Ten minutes past.

A quarter past the hour.

It was impossible to ignore the whispers from the crowd now. Sitting in the front pew, Anna could feel the eyes of everybody in the church—the priest included—boring into her.

“Shall I send Daphne out to see if he’s being held up?” Octavia whispered.

Anna said nothing, only nodded. Her mother made a series of sharp gestures, and Daphne hurried down the aisle, disappearing outside.

Twenty minutes past the hour. Twenty-five.

People began to get up and leave, complaining loudly, as if they’d been tricked out of a morning’s entertainment. The door opened, and Anna felt hope well inside her. She turned around and immediately felt sick.

The Earl of Downton had paused in the doorway, clearly waiting for her to turn around and spot him. He grinned, tipping his hat, and she spun back around, red-faced.

At half past the hour, the priest shuffled forward. Approximately half of the congregation had left.

“Miss Belmont,” he murmured, “I… I fear this wedding is not going to proceed as planned.”

“What do you mean?” she snapped. “He’s late.”

The pity in the man’s eyes was unbearable. “I… I don’t often see this, thankfully. But marriage is a serious thing.”

She closed her eyes, hating that he was unconsciously echoing what Henry had said only a matter of hours ago.

How could I not see it? The fear on his face, the panic. The fact that I had to convince him to marry me.

No, no, I’m being foolish. This is Henry. I know him. He’s coming.

“He’s coming,” she said aloud.

The priest glanced nervously at Octavia.

Her mother lay a hand on her forearm, and Anna flinched.

“My darling girl,” Octavia whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“Five more minutes. Just five more minutes, and he’ll be here. I know it.”

Octavia swallowed hard, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Five more minutes then.”

Ten minutes later, when the priest had given up reasoning with Anna and was instead staring miserably at the clock, the door opened one last time.

Anna had almost lost hope by this time.

A thousand awful situations had run through her mind, including but not limited to Henry’s twisted, broken body lying lifeless in the wreck of that ridiculous phaeton.

It wasn’t Henry in the doorway this time. A scruffy urchin stood there, eyeing the congregation with barely concealed insolence.

“Which one of you is Miss Belmont?” he shouted, not caring about the way people flinched and glared.

“I’m Miss Belmont,” Anna responded flatly, not turning around.

And likely to remain Miss Belmont.

The boy scurried down the aisle and handed her a small piece of paper, folded over. She took it mechanically.

To Miss A. Belmont was written on the front. She opened it. Inside were scrawled two words in Henry’s familiar handwriting.

I’m sorry.

Anna pressed a hand to her mouth. A flower dropped forward out of her hair, tickling her forehead. Those ridiculous, ridiculous flowers. She snatched a handful of her hair, tearing the blooms out of it. Handfuls of them tumbled to the ground, collecting on the fabric of her skirt.

“Anna, darling…” Octavia began, reaching a tentative hand forward.

Daphne was back, huddled with her twin at the end of the pew, her eyes wide and terrified. It seemed that the Earl of Downton had crept several rows forward.

Anna jerked away from her mother’s touch. She rose uncertainly to her feet, her bouquet of flowers dropping unheeded to the ground. When she stepped back, she crushed it.

“He’s not coming,” she said aloud, and there was a muffled gasp from the congregation.

The priest took a step forward, and so did Octavia. In the crowd, Beatrice struggled to her feet, as if planning to come towards Anna too.

No, no, no.

Anna turned on her heel, hiked up her skirts, and ran.

She couldn’t quite block out the stage whispers from either side as she ran, disembodied voices drifting up to her ears.

“Poor girl.”

“Poor girl ? The poor family! They’ll never recover.”

“Who’ll take care of them now?”

“I would have died of shame if that were me.”

“Well, really, who ever thought a girl with no dowry would marry a duke’s brother?”

Anna skidded to a halt, spinning around to glare at the congregation. Faces blurred together until she couldn’t even pick out the familiar ones.

“Be quiet!” she howled. “You don’t know anything! Leave me alone, leave me alone !”

Gasps of shock followed her as she continued her mad dash down the aisle, shouldered open the door with an echoing bang , and burst out into the cool air.

Daphne was right. It was going to rain.

The first heavy, fat drops fell as Anna ran, soaking her dress, ice-cold. She was aware that somebody was shouting behind her— several someones, in fact. Her mother, certainly. She’d gotten a good enough head start on her younger sisters to outrun them.

Her heart pounded, and her head spun. She prayed, prayed so hard to wake up in her bed and realize that this was all a dream and she hadn’t just been jilted at the altar in a way that would be talked of for years to come.

No, no, no.

She skidded into the road, and a hackney nearly ran her over, the driver cursing and yanking at the reins.

“Careful, Miss!” he shouted.

“I need you to take me somewhere,” she said, gasping. “I have money.”

The man blinked, uncertain. “Where are you going?”

“Langdon House. I need to speak to my betrothed.”