Library

Chapter 23

Percy had traveled down many a lonely road, but he could recall none as lonely as this one. He had arrived at the Grayling Estate with Max, Dickie, and Anna, and he had left under the cover of darkness, as quiet and furtive as a thief. To add insult to injury, he had been forced to rely upon Max’s carriage in order to make his departure from the Dennis family’s lives.

As it rattled and juddered along the country roads, he thought back to the day of their arrival, and how Anna had bemoaned the heat in the carriage. She had called them enormous, sweating in the floor-length cloak she had refused to remove.

“It was worth the surprise,” he said to the empty squabs opposite, where she had been sitting that day. “I should have known then that I was in trouble. I should have known eight years ago that I was in trouble.”

He tried to remember her debut, turning his mind all the way back to her first ball, her first entrance into society. He pictured himself, standing with Max and Dickie outside the Assembly Rooms, when she emerged from the carriage, wearing the most excited smile.

“I did not know they made gowns that minuscule,” he had said. “Rather fitting for a church mouse, is it not, Catchweed?”

She had scowled at him, and if his memory served, that wide, excitable smile had not reappeared on her face throughout the entirety of her first ball. Max had danced with her as his official escort, but no other gentleman had asked if she would honor them with a dance. She had been a wallflower before she had even had a chance to be the belle of the ball.

Was it my fault? At every turn, where she had deserved a compliment or a kind word, he had chosen to tease and taunt. Every time he had longed to say something nice, he had been reminded of his father’s scathing admonishment and the dried orchid that he had destroyed.

“You cannot possibly be any son of mine, fawning over a flower like that,” his father had said, the day he had shown him that precious gift. “You are too like your mother—weak and feeble. I had hoped that, with time, you would prove yourself to be a decent son. I see now that you will never be anything but pathetic. Your mother weakened your blood, that is why. And that is why you are so afraid of your own brother that you seek to behave like a brother to anyone but him, because he will be strong and fearsome, and nothing like you.”

To make matters worse, Percy had fought to hold back his tears after hearing those cutting remarks. He was five-and-ten, and should have known better than to allow his emotions to get the better of him, but hearing his mother spoken about so coldly was more than he could bear. His father had beaten him for crying, and his stepmother had watched, delighted.

It was the last time he had cried, and every time he had wanted to be sweet to Anna, the memory had prevented him. The impact of that one moment had prevailed for almost twenty years and as Percy considered it, all he could think was, What a terrible waste of time.

He should have chosen to be better, to be kinder, to be more generous with his compliments and good cheer. He should have decided to do as he pleased, the moment his father chose not to listen about the poisoning. He should have set a course for a brighter, happier future, the very second his father told him not to return and cast out the housekeeper for saving his life.

I should not still be living my life as if he is still alive, and will punish me for anything my stepmother does not like.

Hit with a sudden bolt of inspiration, he raised his fist and pounded it against the side of the carriage.

The driver pulled the horses to a halt and called down, “Is all well, Your Grace?”

“I—” Percy saw Anna’s wounded expression in his mind’s eye, as he had stepped away from her. “I thought we might… um… No, never mind. It is not important. Carry on.”

Anna would not welcome him if he raced back to the Grayling Estate, as fast as the carriage could go. And Max would assuredly demand a duel if he set foot in that manor again tonight. This time, his punishment for his weakness would be at his own hand, and he could think of no greater torment than having to go back to Granville House alone.

* * *

“She is still refusing to speak to me?” Anna said quietly, sipping from a small glass of port. Matilda had been pilfering Beatrice’s stores again, but as Beatrice was there in the private drawing room with the rest of the Spinsters’ Club, Anna guessed she did not mind.

Phoebe offered an apologetic smile. “Caro is young, Anna, and with youth comes stubbornness. I know that better than anyone. Goodness, my two sisters are still the most stubborn individuals I have ever met.” She paused. “But she will forgive you when she is ready. And I am sorry that I spoke to you that way earlier; it was unbecoming.”

“Even friends must disagree, sometimes,” Matilda interjected, as she went around the room, pouring more port for everyone. “In truth, I have found that it is from the disagreements, rather than the pleasantries, that people and bonds grow stronger.”

Beatrice nodded and sipped her drink. “Certainly, the most nutritious soil can be found in respectful discussions of differing opinions. Sometimes, two people must agree to disagree. Other times, one or both may learn something valuable.”

“Remind me of why we do not do this at least monthly, and why the countess is not one of our number?” Matilda asked, grinning. Even now, she still had not quite gotten over the awe of being in the Countess of Grayling’s company.

Beatrice arched an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I am mistaken, but I believe it has something to do with all of you divine ladies being so blissfully married and mothering your respective cherubs.”

“Matilda does not have any cherubs,” Olivia said. “We have been desperately awaiting news, more for the book that will undoubtedly follow, so we can all read it and realize that we are not mad, and we have all endured the same things.”

The countess nodded. “Yes, there must be a book. I cannot imagine a more necessary book, in truth, than one regarding the details of pregnancy. It would alleviate many fears, I am sure.”

It was no great secret that Beatrice had been the primary benefactor in Matilda’s publishing endeavors, for no one would have published or sold a book written by ‘Miss Terry’ if the famed countess had not worked some miracles. Had it been authored by a ‘Mrs. Terry,’ perhaps they would have been more obliging, but Matilda had insisted on ‘Miss,’ for otherwise the jest of a pseudonym was moot.

“Forgive me, Countess, but you have never had children, have you?” Leah said, peering shyly above the top of her fan.

Beatrice shook her head. “I was never blessed. I lost a few, though. That is something you must write about too, Matilda, for it is not spoken about enough, and I daresay it can make a lady feel as if she has gone quite mad. At the very least, it can make her feel terribly alone.” She waved a hand. “But let us speak of other things.”

“Like Lord Luminport, and how I should like to box his ears?” Phoebe said, pretending to strike at the air.

Anna shuddered. “Anything but Lord Luminport. The sooner I forget his name, the better.”

“What of your moment alone in the Orangery with the Duke of Granville?” Olivia suggested, with a sneaky sort of smile. “You always have the most fascinating arguments. What was it on this occasion? Is he still furious about his rather fetching bruise?”

Anna’s heart lurched into her throat as she recalled the moment that had halted their kiss. She had not meant to touch his bruise, for she had almost forgotten all about it. Ever since, she had been asking herself what might have happened if she had stroked his other cheek instead—would he still have ceased their kiss? Would he have called it a shameful mistake? Would he have stepped away from her, as if she had shocked him?

Probably…

“What is that look for?” Phoebe said, squinting. “I have seen that look before, but I doubt I have ever seen it upon your face.”

Matilda came to stand behind Phoebe’s chair, also peering at Anna as if she were an exhibit in a museum. “I quite agree with you, Phoebe. That is a very odd look to see on sweet Anna’s face. And do you see a flush of pink in her cheeks, or is that merely the light of the room?”

“I do see a flush of pink.” Phoebe nodded, tilting her head. “How peculiar.”

Anna downed the contents of her port glass. “I do not wish to speak of Percival either. In a way, it is because of him that Caro is not speaking to me, and it is assuredly because of him that my reputation was almost in tatters, and… and… I… I cannot speak of him.”

And it is because of him that I am blushing furiously!

“Well, I suggest we discuss this Matchmaker business.” Matilda plopped herself down in an armchair. “We have avoided the subject long enough, and I should like to know everything!”

Olivia nodded. “As would I. I have been following the Matchmaker’s excellent work ever since she began, and if I had known that it was my own beloved friend, I would have celebrated each success twice as vigorously!”

“There is nothing much to tell,” Anna said shyly. “I got the idea from a book, though I do not remember the name. I tried it, it worked, and… the rest is history. It was, anyway.”

Phoebe cast her gaze downward. “If we still had our monthly Spinsters’ Club meetings, would you have told us?”

“I do not think so.” Anna hesitated. “You must understand, it is like two separate people. I am Anna, and the Matchmaker is the Matchmaker. Does that make a jot of sense? I suppose it does not.”

Beatrice smiled. “It makes perfect sense, dearest Anna. We are all different beings. We all hold different titles. We are all pieces of a whole.”

“Yes, that does make sense,” Phoebe agreed.

Olivia leaned forward. “But have you never wanted to use your own methods to find your own love? You must know everything there is to know about everyone in society. Is there not someone who might be suited to you?”

“She is far too honorable for that,” Matilda jumped in immediately.

Anna sipped from the empty glass, realizing her mistake. “Is there more port? I may need it.”

“Have as much as you desire,” Matilda replied, passing the bottle across.

Anna poured a measure and set the bottle down by her feet. “It is true that I… have kept a vast secret from you all, in hiding my secret identity, but… as I do not know when we shall all be here together again, I believe I must… find my courage and… reveal another.”

“As long as you are not about to tell us that you are venturing off to a nunnery, we shall be glad to hear it,” Matilda encouraged, as she had always done, in her own way.

Anna took a breath. “I have… developed feelings for someone, and I do not know how to proceed. I do not want to be falling in love with this man—indeed, I do not know how they have even begun to form—but… I fear it is rather too late for that. My heart… It will not stop aching, and I cannot stop thinking of him. But he does not want me, and… I do not think I can endure another… crushing blow.”

“Is it Percival?” Phoebe said softly. “Is that why you wrote to Caro, dissuading her?”

Anna jolted as if she had been pinched in the leg. “Goodness, no! I would never dishonor the Matchmaker’s values like that.” She swallowed uncomfortably. “I did not know that I… had affections for him then. Indeed, I did not like him at all. I thought him rude and arrogant and mean, and I could not understand what other ladies were swooning over. But… he is not what I thought he was.”

“But it is Percival?” Olivia prompted.

Heat bloomed in Anna’s cheeks, until she could not bear to look upon the intense gazes of her friends. “It started when I sent a croquet ball flying into his skull.” She fidgeted awkwardly. “Perhaps earlier, though I cannot be sure anymore. You see, I think back on all of our quarrels and bickering, and… I wonder if it has been there for much, much longer than I realize.

“I have never been shy around him. I have never had any difficulty speaking with him, albeit mostly in sharp remarks. I have never blushed so furiously that he has asked if I have a fever. I have never stumbled so badly over my words that I have been accused of having an impediment. My throat has never closed in his presence… not until recently, anyway. And I find myself wondering why.”

Leah smiled, clasping a hand to her own heart. “So, you were not quarreling in the Orangery? Did he ask you to meet him there?”

“No, he was… trying to save my reputation. Ironic, I know.” Anna laughed tightly. “He thought I was going to meet with Lord Luminport, and wished to prevent it. He called me foolish, I told him he did not know what he was talking about, and then… he kissed me.”

A collective gasp exploded into the room, as loud as the earlier fireworks, and just as bright in a dazzling display of hope.

“He kissed you! And you did not begin with that, while we have been harping on about all manner of nonsense?” Matilda cried, grinning from ear to ear.

Beatrice chuckled. “Was it a very good kiss?”

“It was… the best moment of my life,” Anna replied. “And then he said it was a mistake, or something of that ilk.” She repeated what she could remember of the aftermath, though her mind had been rather hazier than usual, fogged over by the lingering thrill of the kiss.

When Anna looked at her friends again, it was as if someone had opened a window on a freezing winter’s day, letting all the warmth out. But instead of heat, it was hope that had abandoned the private drawing room.

“So, I am right to think it a hopeless infatuation?” she said flatly.

Matilda raised a hand. “Not necessarily. Are you certain he said, ‘it was shameful’ and not ‘it was shameful of me’?”

“I am certain.”

A wince went through the room.

“And you are certain he said, ‘I do not know why I did that’?” Matilda tried again, and Anna could not help feeling grateful toward her friend.

“I am certain,” she replied.

Beatrice sighed. “And he said, ‘do not look at me like that’? You did not mishear?”

“I did not.” Anna bowed her head. She did not need to see their faces anymore to know that this was not one of her romance novels, and there would be no happy ending for the Duke and the awkward, love-obsessed Matchmaker. It was clear as crystal in the deathly quiet that followed.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.