Chapter 16

"We could try putting your hair up, my Lady. It's becoming quite fashionable," Helen said, as Anne sat in front of the mirror in her bedroom, gazing at her reflection.

It was the night of the ball, and Anne had spent the afternoon getting ready. The purple dress from Miss Zagrebe had arrived that morning and was every bit as pretty as Anne had hoped. It fitted perfectly, and only her hair remained left to see to.

"Fashionable? Am I to set fashions now?" Anne replied, laughing at the prospect of being noticed in such a way.

Helen smiled and shook her head.

"There's nothing wrong with taking up a fashion, my Lady – not when it's so popular. You've got such beautiful hair – wearing it up would show your cheeks and neckline," Helen replied.

Anne thought of the heroines in her books – they were always so pretty, so perfect in their looks and mannerisms. On a windswept moor, on the bough of a ship, at the top of a tall tower in a medieval castle, they always looked their best. Anne considered herself to be quite plain, though others would not hear of it, and she had been called pretty on many occasions. She liked her hair – long, sleek, and auburn – and was uncertain whether she wanted to follow fashion as Helen suggested.

"Will it make him notice me, do you think?" Anne asked, for she was thinking of William, and wondering what he would think of her when he saw her.

Her maid looked at her reflection and smiled.

"I don't know, my Lady – but it can't hurt, can it?" she asked.

"It can if it attracts the attentions of Lord Peter," Anne replied, for she had no intention of making her father's preference think she had made an effort for him.

That very day, Lord Peter had sent a dozen red roses to the house, and Anne feared he would stop at nothing to mark her dance card in its entirety – would William even get a chance to speak to her, let alone dance with her?

"Please, my Lady – let me try and make something of your hair," Helen said, and Anne smiled.

"Very well, but I hope it has the desired effect," she replied.

Helen beamed at her, and it was not long before Anne's hair was tied up in a bun, styled as was the fashion of the day.

"There, my Lady – what do you think?" Helen asked, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

The effect was certainly different, and Anne had to admit she rather liked it. But what would William think? This was the question she was preoccupied with – and not just concerning her hair. They had met on three separate occasions, but Anne really knew very little about him, and he about her. This was the moment of anticipation, of excitement at what might be, rather than what was. Whenever she thought of him – his handsome looks, his kindly demeanour, his smile, and wit – Anne's heart fluttered. She wanted desperately to see him again, even as she felt terribly anxious as to what their meeting would bring.

"I think it's…a delight, Helen. Thank you," Anne replied, and the maid smiled.

"I just want everything to be perfect for you, my Lady," she said, as Anne rose to her feet, and Helen sprayed her with scent from a large atomiser, the perfume filling the with heady floral notes.

"That's very kind of you, Helen. I've not enjoyed these occasions in the past, but tonight…well, I'm so very much looking forward to seeing him," she said, thinking wistfully of William and all he represented.

If only her parents could be persuaded to see her obvious affections for him. He was the perfect gentleman and would surely be viewed as a suitable match. He already had business interests in the city, and shopping in the Bewdale Arcade surely meant he had wealth. A man did not have to have a title to be worthy of marriage in aristocratic circles, though William would have to prove himself more than a titled opponent. Nevertheless, Anne felt certain he could do so, and she was looking forward to introducing him to her parents and planting the seed of possibility in their minds.

"And I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you, too, my Lady. But you mustn't be disappointed if…well…things aren't entirely as you want them to be. What if Lord Peter makes trouble for you?" Helen asked.

Anne sighed. Helen was nothing if not practical. But she was right. The distinct possibility of confrontation remained. If Lord Peter took offence against William's attentions – or Anne's attentions towards William – trouble would surely follow.

"Well… I haven't done anything to give the suggestion to Lord Peter. It's my father's fault if he thinks he's in with a chance of gaining my hand," Anne replied.

That much was true. She had sent no note of thanks for the dozen red roses, nor had she offered a warm welcome to her father's business associate when he had called at the house. Whilst Anne would never ben openly rude, there were ways and means of making her feelings felt – she had learned that, at least, from the pages of her penny novels.

"Be careful, my Lady – you know what the ton can be like," Helen replied, but Anne did not wish to think about it.

She wanted to think about happy things, and now she took Helen's hands in hers, whirling her about the room as though they were caught up in a waltz.

"La, la, la, di, di, di, di, la, la, la," she hummed, as Helen laughed.

"Oh, my Lady – stop it, you'll bring me out in a hot flush," Helen exclaimed, just as the door opened, and Anne's mother appeared, holding a jewellery box in her hand.

She looked at the scene before her and laughed, even as Helen stepped back in embarrassment and lowered her head.

"Helen and I were just dancing, Mother. I feel so happy" Anne replied, even as she knew Helen did not share her sentiment.

Her mother smiled at her. She was not a harsh woman, and Anne knew she had her best interests at heart, even as sometimes they clashed with Anne's own intentions.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling happy at the prospect of the ball. I was rather worried you weren't looking forward to it. Lord Peter's obviously changed your mind," the countess said.

Anne was not about to disabuse her mother of this thought, even as it was entirely incorrect. It was not the prospect of seeing Lord Peter she found exciting – far from it – but the possibility of snatching even a few moments with William. That was her hope, and she had pinned all her happiness on the possibility of realizing it.

"Oh, no…it's…I'm looking forward to it. Helen's even done my hair for me – it's a new style," she said, and her mother nodded.

"Yes…well, I'm not sure about a new style, Anne. But if you like it, then so be it," she said, for the countess did not entirely approve of new styles.

"It's what they're wearing in Paris, my Lady," Helen ventured, looking up, still with an embarrassed expression on her face.

"Yes, and a lot of them aren't wearing their heads anymore in Paris – that's what happens when fashions change. We must hope and pray such revolutionary fashion doesn't visit itself entirely on us here, mustn't we?" Anne's mother replied.

"Yes…my Lady," Helen replied.

"Oh, don't be so harsh on Helen, Mother. She just wants me to look nice for…Lord Peter," Anne said, and her mother smiled.

"And that's just what I want, too, Anne. That's why I've brought you these," she said, holding out the jewellery box for Anne, who opened it to reveal an exquisite pair of pearl earrings, inlaid in silver, sitting amidst red plush.

They were beautiful, and Anne's eyes grew wide with astonishment.

"Oh…Mother, aren't they just…a delight," she said, taking one carefully in her hand to examine it.

The craftsmanship was remarkable, and there was no doubting their value, either.

"They were my mother's, and I'd like you to have them. I think you'll look very pretty wearing them," the countess said, as Anne tried them on.

They matched her purple dress, and having hair tied up allowed the earrings to be visible, too. Anne admired herself in the mirror, the earrings reflecting the late afternoon sunshine coming through the window.

"Am I really to have them, Mother? It's so kind of you," Anne said, and she embraced the countess and kissed her on the cheek, even as she felt a pang of guilt at accepting the earrings on false pretences.

Anne's father had paid for her new dress, gloves, shoes, shawl, and fascinator, but the earrings were a personal gift, one of true sentimentality from mother to daughter. It brought a tear to Anne's eye to think of her mother's kindness. They were so often at odds, but Anne knew her mother loved her dearly, despite their oft differences in opinion.

"I want you to have them, Anne. My mother gave them to me on my wedding day, and now I want you to have them on the eve of possibility to come. I do hope you'll do the sensible thing – Lord Peter's a good man, and there's no shame in allowing your father to guide you towards the right match," the countess said.

"But…I'm to be the one who decides, aren't I, Mother?" Anne asked.

Her mother looked at her and nodded.

"It's for us all to decide, together, Anne," she replied, and Anne forced a smile to her face.

"Then I'm sure it'll all work out just fine. But shouldn't we be going, Mother? We don't want to be the last to arrive," Anne said, just as a distant clock in the hallways below struck the hour.

"Good heavens, you're right. I must fetch my shawl. Gwen, do you have my shawl?" the countess called out, hurrying from the room and calling to her maid, as Helen looked up and smiled.

"They're beautiful earrings, my Lady – they look just right with your dress," she said, as Anne admired herself in the mirror once again.

"It was very kind of my mother, wasn't it? I just hope…well, I hope she can forgive me when the time comes," Anne replied.

She feared her mother's anger – and that of her father. They had gone to such efforts to secure a match, first with Lord Maximilian, and now with Lord Peter. But Anne only wanted to make up her own mind in the matter, and to secure a match, not for personal gain, but for love.

"Don't rush into anything, my Lady. Remember, you don't know this man – not at all. He might turn out to be entirely different from what you imagine. He might not be…well, the man for you," Helen said, shaking her head.

But Anne would not entertain the thought, even as she knew its possibility was all too true. Infatuation – that was what she felt. She knew William only by chance, and without any form of proper introduction. He could be something far different from her impression, and whilst her feelings for him were clear, she knew they were born of a desire for something other than what she already had.

"But I've got to try, haven't I? I've got to see if he can be," she replied, and Helen gave her a weak smile.

"I don't know, my Lady. Perhaps…but…be careful," she said.

Anne thought of the heroines in her books. Were they careful? They took risks and would often throw caution to the wind for the sake of love. Nothing held them back – they did precisely what they pleased. There was never mention of a chaperone or societal expectation. The women in the pages of these stories always got what they wanted, such was the order of things.

"I'm tired of always being careful, Helen. I don't want to be careful anymore. Don't you think…well, this was meant to be?" Anne asked, wanting to find some kind of justification for her behaviour, as bizarre as it might seem.

Her encounter with William in the market had been a coincidence but meeting him twice since then had surely been fated.

"It's a little early for that, isn't it, my Lady? You need to meet him first – get to know him. You might find yourself disappointed," Helen said, but Anne had heard enough.

She would make her own decision as far as William was concerned, and for now, she felt certain he was everything she wanted him to be – a gentleman, a romantic hope, a man she could throw her troubles onto and find a balm in stormy seas. Taking up her shawl, she bid Helen goodnight, as her mother called out to her from the landing.

"I don't know what time we'll be back, Helen. There's no need to stay awake. I'll see you in the morning, and I hope I'll have something exciting to tell you," she said, smiling at Helen, who shook her head and sighed.

"You look beautiful, my Lady – don't let any man upset you," she replied.

The countess was waiting for Helen as she emerged from her bedroom, and Helen smiled at her mother, who offered her arm, the two of them making their way down the stairs together. Anne's father was waiting in the hallway, dressed in his frock coat and tails.

"This outfit feels tighter every time I wear it. Come now, we should be on our way," he said, as the butler hurried to open the door.

A carriage was waiting for them, and Anne smiled to herself at the thought of what the evening would bring.

"Remember, Anne – you're to dance first with Lord Peter, then a second time, at least," the countess said, as they settled back in the carriage compartment.

"Yes, Mother, I know – but I can dance with others, too, can't I?" Anne replied, for she did not want to fight over the matter, even as her mother seemed intent on laying down the rules for the evening.

"If Lord Peter permits it, yes," her mother said, and Anne rolled her eyes.

"I don't normally enjoy these occasions," she said, and the earl laughed.

"Well, they're expected of you, Anne. We all have our crosses to bear. It's hardly an imposition, is it? You dance, you partake of the refreshments, you mingle, your talk, you smile – hardly a chore," he said, and Anne blushed

Her father was right – it was hardly a taxing task.

"Because…well, I knew you'd want me to dance with Lord Peter," she said, hoping to deflect her father's criticism.

He smiled at her and nodded as the carriage drove on. But as they approached Charlton Lodge, Anne felt increasingly nervous, knowing all too well the possibility of scandal lying ahead, even as she was only too willing to embrace it…