Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

22 October 1813

Dearest Anne,

I have unfortunate news. The Wellington still has not made port, and I must extend my London stay for at least a few more weeks while my business partners and I determine our next steps and take action.

Anne sighed as she set the letter aside. It hadn't changed from when she'd read it the first six times.

When Thomas told her earlier that month that urgent business required his presence in London, she thought he would only be gone for two or three weeks. She doubted he'd anticipated the extent of his absence, either.

If their cargo ship didn't soon arrive, Thomas and his partners would not only need to find a new vessel, equip it with supplies, and hire a new crew. They also must bear the terrible news to any surviving family members, which would be devastating for Thomas. Although he hid it well from most people, he experienced loss keenly.

During his growing absence, Anne was surprised at the depths of her loneliness. Thomas had been gone for less than a month, but the time they'd spent together in recent months was enough for her to become strongly attached.

He'd become a welcome fixture in her life. She missed his warm gaze, his steady presence by her side, and his beautiful brown eyes.

And she missed his hands.

Her cheeks heated as she closed her eyes and pictured them. When Thomas removed his gloves at that first dinner party, she was transfixed.

Those hands clearly worked for a living and weren't the smooth hands of a noble gentleman, but Anne found that attractive. They looked capable and strong, able to wield a sword in battle, as he had in the militia.

Yet he handled utensils with deft grace, and when he'd assisted Mrs. Harrison in standing after the meal, he was careful and gentle. She imagined those hands now, soothing a young child. Or perhaps holding a woman in an embrace, one hand cupping the back of her neck as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Anne stood to her feet with such haste that she nearly tipped over her chair. Righting it, she pushed it under the dressing table and strode purposefully to her bed. It was high time she went to sleep.

She couldn't allow such thoughts about Mr. Weston to take hold. She must maintain propriety around him, and doing so would become much more difficult if she pictured him holding her close...stroking her cheek...touching her in intimate ways.

Anne slid under the counterpane, pulling it over herself with a snap of self-disgust as she rolled to her side. She really must stop behaving like a chit of eight and ten, instead of a grown woman in her thirties.

December 1813

Snow fell steadily, blanketing Highbury's grounds on this late December morning. Anne always enjoyed the hush that descended in the aftermath of a snowfall, and this morning was no exception.

She donned warm clothing and took a short walk, despite Mr. Woodhouse's admonitions that she would surely come down with an ague. By the time she returned to the house a few minutes later, her cheeks were flushed from lifting her boot-clad feet through increasingly deep snow. Thankful to shake off her damp outer garments, she sat by the morning room fire, holding a cup of hot tea between her hands as the fire warmed her through.

Emma rushed in, one hand mysteriously behind her back. "There you are! I've been looking for you for ages."

Anne bit back a smile. "I was gone for all of ten minutes."

"Exactly! Ages." Emma brought her hand out from behind her back and extended it to Anne. A small white box rested on her palm, its lid attached with a dark green ribbon.

"What is that?"

"A Christmas gift, for you!" the young woman said with an excited bounce.

"For me? But Christmas was several days ago, and I already opened my very generous gift. There's certainly no need to give me another."

"It's not from me," Emma answered with a smirk.

Anne flushed with pleasure. She and Thomas had not discussed exchanging presents for Christmas, but it could only be from him. The Wellington had returned, but in poor condition, and relieved of most of its cargo by besieging pirates. The crew fortunately escaped with their lives, but repairing the damage and scraping together the funds to purchase new cargo took time, and Thomas hadn't wanted to leave it entirely on his business partners' shoulders .

She accepted the box gingerly from Emma, wondering if it would be rude to excuse herself before opening it.

Fortuitously, Mr. Woodhouse entered the room, wringing his hands. "Emma, here you are. I have need of your assistance in my study. You don't mind, do you, Miss Taylor? Only I've been quite chilly and hoped for some tea to warm me, and Emma always prepares it precisely the way I enjoy it." He looked anxiously at her.

She smiled. "I don't mind, Mr. Woodhouse. Emma and I can speak later."

He gave a decisive nod and turned to leave the room.

"Well? Aren't you going to open it? I want to know what he gave you," Emma loudly whispered.

"Emma? Come along, dear," Mr. Woodhouse called from the hallway.

Anne lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug, thankful for Mr. Woodhouse's intervention.

"You will tell me later, won't you?" Emma pleaded, backing toward the door as she looked imploringly at Anne.

"Perhaps," Anne teased.

As soon as Emma disappeared, she hurried to her room, closing the door firmly before settling in a chair by the fire and opening the gift.

Anne drew in a sharp breath when she saw the breathtaking cameo necklace inside. It was a profile of a beautiful young woman, carved out of ivory shell against a soft pink coral background. She lifted it gingerly, its delicate gold chain draping over her fingers as she touched it reverently.

A folded sheet of paper lay in the bottom of the box. She smoothed it against her lap.

Dearest Anne,

I'd hoped to give you this in person, but as I'm still in London, I didn't wish to delay any further.

I know this is a rather personal gift, but I hope that you will accept it from me nonetheless. When I saw this cameo, the figure on it reminded me of you, with her long, graceful neck and lovely profile, and I knew it must be yours.

I hope that you'll think of me when you wear it. Know that I am constantly thinking of you, my sweet Anne, and will return to you as soon as I am able.

Merry Christmas,

Thomas

Anne held the letter to her heart as if it were the man himself. His absence cut through her with a shocking intensity.

She lifted the cameo again, rubbing the tip of her thumb over it wonderingly and picturing Thomas' handsome face as he bent over a counter, studying the necklace before deciding to purchase it for her. It was an extravagant gift, but Anne could not bring herself to decline it.

If need be, she could wear it beneath her clothing, where no one but she would be aware of its presence.

"Oh, Thomas," she sighed softly. "How long must we be apart?"

28 December 1813

Dear Thomas,

I should chide you for your extravagance, but I cannot bring myself to do it. The cameo is too beautiful for me to refuse, even if inclined to do so, which I am not. It rests against my heart even now.

Thomas pictured the cameo nestled against Anne's sweetly curved bosom. Excruciating torture, and he immediately tried to put it out of his mind. He hadn't even kissed Anne yet, something he'd rectify upon his return to Highbury. He couldn't stop thinking about her deep blue eyes, her smooth, rosy-cheeked complexion, and her ready smile.

Huffing out a sigh, he set Anne's letter aside and picked up the note from his business partner and brother. Ship repairs progressed were progressing and they'd raised some of the capital they needed, but much work remained. He focused on that now, knowing that the faster he resolved things in London, the faster he could get back to Anne.

10 February 1814

Dearest Anne,

Enclosed is my attempt at a Valentine. I hope you appreciate my exceedingly humble efforts, carried out with the utmost affection.

The folded square decorated with hearts, flowers, and birds was delightful, and the picture Thomas sketched enchanting. It featured a pastoral scene with a man and woman who closely resembled them sitting on a blanket, dining from a basket in a meadow surrounded by sheltering trees.

It was charming.

Another month gone by and I remain in London, enduring the cruelly frigid winter. This frigidity, however, resulted in another Frost Fair, an utterly magical sight. How I wish you could have experienced it with me!

For weeks, the fog was so thick that one could scarcely see anything at all through it. At night, the brightest lanterns appeared as mere flickering candles, so impossible was it to distinguish anything through the darkness.

As soon as the fog began to clear, thick, unrelenting snow fell as a piercing wind blew, chilling me to the bone. The temperature warmed slightly, then a bitter frost again set in, freezing the melting water once more.

Ice covered all of London, and the Thames froze over from London Bridge to Blackfriars. There were skaters on every frozen surface, from the Canal in St. James' Park to the Serpentine.

At first, only a few brave souls ventured out onto the frozen Thames, testing its mettle. Others saw notices placed by the watermen on nearby streets, and soon thousands occupied its surface, crossing the frozen footway.

Thomas described how certain enterprising souls went about selling all manner of food and drink, toys and souvenirs. Some fairgoers danced reels to accompanying fiddles, while others played games of skittles and cards.

But the most astonishing sight of all was a massive elephant, brought out to attest to the thickness and strength of the ice below. I was fortunate enough to witness the creature.

An elephant! Anne could not imagine seeing such an immense beast in person and was sure it must be a thrilling sight. But she would have felt safe with Thomas by her side.

She sighed as she thought about him. When he began paying marked attention to her the year before, she had been surprised and pleased, although she still possessed a sense of duty to the Woodhouses. Emma was eighteen then and, while many would consider her a grown woman, sheltered Emma still needed Anne's gentle guidance. Fond as she was of Thomas, the slow pace of their courtship had suited her.

Now, however, after coming to know not only his genial ways and cheerful nature, but also the sensitive man underneath who had experienced such heartbreak and somehow remained hopeful, she'd progressed from fondness to something far deeper. His absence was becoming intolerable.

Emma was still young, but if Anne continued to shelter her, the young woman would never learn to stand on her own. She saw that now, and yet it was difficult for Anne to change her ways while living in the same house as Emma.

She might be ready for a change now. But would Thomas ever return to her, and if he did, would he be ready for more, too?

Anne wished she knew.