Chapter 21

"It's been a most delightful evening," William said, as he and Anne bid one another goodnight.

The ball was coming to an end, and the guests were filing out, wrapped in their shawls and coats, calling out farewells to one another and promising to meet again soon. The punch bowls were empty, the refreshment table demolished, and the musicians exhausted – it had been a wonderful evening, in the end, at least.

"We'll do it all again next year," Lady Erdmann said, calling out her goodbyes, and thus the Charlton Lodge ball had come to a close.

"What will you do now?" Anne asked, as she stood with Willian in the entrance hallway, waiting for her parents.

"I'll go back to The Spaniards Inn, with Digby – wherever he is. I've got an important meeting tomorrow – with a firm of solicitors," William replied.

Anne was impressed. William was not of the idle rich. He did not expect money to come his way, even as the like of Lord Peter existed on the wealth of their ancestors. There was a great deal to admire in a self-made man, and whilst William might not have a title, he made up for the fact by his dogged determination to succeed. Anne was glad to have weathered the incident with Lord Peter, for surely it would be to William's advantage in the eyes of her parents.

"How wonderful, and…when will I see you again?" she asked, for this was the real question she wanted an answer to.

The evening she had spent with him had only confirmed what she had previously believed. William was the perfect gentleman – kind and courteous, handsome, and with a shyness she found endearing. He did not have the brash confidence of a rake, but neither did he behave like one, either. The heroes in the stories she read were often rakes – men for whom foolish women fell at the feet of, in awe at their domineering nature. But Anne did not want such a man – she wanted to fall in love, and with William, that was what she was doing…

"Soon, I hope. If it's possible," he replied, and Anne nodded.

"It's very possible," she said, slipping her calling card into his hand, and hoping he would pay her a visit very soon.

"And what about…Lord Peter?" William asked.

Anne looked over her shoulder to where Lord Peter was being helped by two of his friends. He was drunk, his head tilted back, his eyes wide, and he appeared to know nothing of where he was or what he was doing.

"I think you know the answer to that," she replied.

"Come along, Anne. It's time to go," her mother called out, and with a lingering smile towards William, Anne followed after her, hoping it would not be long before she saw William again.

* * *

"Tried to do what?" Anne's father exclaimed, as they rode home in the carriage after the ball that night.

It was the height of summer, and dusk was only just falling, the setting sun casting long shadows through the carriage windows.

"He struck out at Anne – he was drunk. I've never seen such an outrageous display," Anne's mother replied, tutting and shaking her head.

The ball had been a chaotic affair, but Anne was only glad to think Lord Peter had shown his true colours. Her father looked incredulous, and despite having imbibed a considerable amount of punch, himself, was sober enough to condemn his business associate in the strongest possible terms.

"I never thought he'd act in such a way – he actually tried to strike you, Anne?" the earl demanded, and Anne nodded.

"Because he wasn't getting his own way. I didn't want to dance with him. Not when he was drunk," she said, and her father shook his head.

"Despicable man. I won't have it, Jemimah. I might not be the best of fathers, but I won't have my daughter treated in such an appalling fashion," he exclaimed, shaking his head.

Anne was pleasantly surprised. She had expected her father to side with Lord Peter οn the matter, but it seemed his chivalry was roused, and he was not about to see his only daughter subjected to such unpleasantness.

"Does this mean…I don't have to marry him, Father?" Anne asked, for if it was to be the case, she would surely throw her arms around him in delight.

"I think it's rather doubtful, don't you?" he replied, and Anne breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, Father, thank you," she exclaimed, and true to her promise, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

Her father looked somewhat embarrassed, but smiled at Anne as she sat back next to her mother.

"Well…it rather puts a hold on our plans, doesn't it? If you're not to marry Lord Peter… I don't know, Anne. Perhaps Maximilian," the earl said, but to Anne's surprise, it was her mother who interjected.

"The situation would've been much worse had it not been for Mr. Baker," she said.

The earl looked at his wife in confusion.

"Who?" he asked, and the countess tutted.

"The young man – the one your questioned about imports and exports. The one who intervened in an altercation Anne had in the street. He stood up to Lord Peter, too," she said.

Anne blushed. She knew she would have to elaborate on the apparent altercation, but now, her father nodded.

"Ah, yes – a shy sort, but a good man. You met him by chance again at the ball, did you?" he asked.

"I…did, yes," Anne replied, not wanting her parents to think she had in any way planned the whole thing.

"A fortunate coincidence, and to be rescued twice by the same gentleman," her mother said, raising her eyebrows.

Anne smiled. There was no doubting William had made a good impression – at least on her mother. The lie would be forgotten or could be woven into the story of the loaf – the baker turning into an angry assailant, demanding her money. William had helped her, and he had done so again that night.

"He was only behaving as any true gentleman should – wasn't he?" she asked, and her mother could not disagree with her.

"But he's self-made? New money?" her father asked, and Anne nodded.

"That's right, but why does that matter? I'm much more impressed by a man who can make his own money, rather than one who can spend what's given to him on a silver spoon," she replied.

Her father smiled. In this, at least, he would agree. The earldom, whilst one of the oldest in England, had long since ceased to pay its way. Anne's father was a shrewd businessman and had taken advantage of many opportunities the empire afforded him for profit.

"It's admirable, of course. I'd like to hear more about him," he said, and her mother echoed the sentiment.

"We should invite him for dinner, I think," she said, and Anne's eyes grew wide with amazement.

She had not expected her parents to so willingly take to a man like William, and she was only too delighted to agree.

"Really, Mother? Do you mean it?" she asked, and her mother nodded.

"Certainly, I do. He behaved with the utmost chivalry this evening. I was suspicious of him, at first. But I'd be glad to get to know him better. If that's what you'd like, Anne," she replied.

It was what Anne liked. It was what she had hoped for all along, even as she had not dreamed it to be possible. How grateful she was to Lord Peter for showing his true colors, and to her mother and father for recognizing them.

"Oh, yes, Mother – I'd be delighted to entertain him. A chance encounter can often be…the beginning of something more," she said, and her mother smiled.

"Perhaps we shouldn't have been so eager to make a match for you, Anne," she said, glancing at the earl, who harrumphed.

"How was I to know what Lord Peter was really like? He's always been…a model of gentlemanly behaviour, as far as I'm concerned," he said.

Anne rolled her eyes. This was no surprise, even as she felt glad Lord Peter had been proven the opposite of what her father believed him to be. She was excited at the prospect of seeing William again, though she could only imagine how nervous he would be.

"I'll send an invitation tomorrow. You'll have to give me the address of his London lodgings, Anne," her mother said.

"Oh, that's easy enough. He's staying at The Spaniards Inn. Helen and I met him by chance outside the other day. He lodges with a friend of his, a Mr. Kirkpatrick," Anne said.

At these words, her mother looked somewhat perturbed.

"He's staying at an inn?" she asked, and Anne blushed.

She had not been thinking properly. Her mother would surely not approve of William residing in such a place. She would expect him to have a London residence – lodgings belong to his family, as befitted an up-and-coming gentleman.

"Yes…he prefers such a place. I'm sure it's because his friend, Digby, desired it. He mentioned a lack of servants – it must be terribly inconvenient" Anne replied, though she herself was not entirely sure why William should have chosen The Spaniards Inn for his lodgings.

Her mother looked at her in surprise.

"Well… I suppose it's only temporary. Until he can find somewhere else to live," she said, trying, it seemed, to reassure herself.

"Yes, indeed. I can send Helen with the invitation. She knows where to go," Anne said, for she was not about to allow the opportunity to pass her by.

The countess nodded.

"Very well, yes. I'll write to him, thanking him for his assistance to you, and inviting him to dine with us this coming Friday," she said.

Anne's heart skipped a beat. She could barely contain her excitement, and when they had arrived home, she went straight to her bedroom, hoping Helen had disobeyed her orders and waited up.

"I told you to go to bed. I'd have been quite all right. But I've got the most wonderful news," Anne exclaimed, taking Helen by the hands, and hardly able to contain her excitement.

"Oh, my Lady – I didn't want you going to bed with your hair tied up in such a way. We need to let it down and comb it," Helen said.

"Wait a moment, let me tell you first. He's coming to dinner," Anne said, still not quite believing her luck in securing William the invitation.

Helen looked at her in surprise.

"He? But, do you mean…" she said, and Anne nodded.

"That's right. Mr. Baker. He's coming to dine with us on Friday. You're to take the invitation tomorrow," Anne replied.

She pictured the scene on Friday – William's arrival, their gaze meeting over sherry, their feet touching beneath the table. He would gaze into her eyes, and she would smile at him, longing to take his hands in hers. What would they talk about? Would he bring a gift? And what would come next? A dinner would surely lead to a picnic, or a visit to the theatre. That was how it was in her novels – the heroine would be swept off her feet, taken to some romantic spot on a lonely, heather clad moor – the moorlands were always heather clad.

"Me, my Lady? But what happened to Lord Peter?" Helena asked.

"Oh, we can forget all about Lord Peter, I assure you. He's quite finished – in the eyes of my parents, at least. And that's good enough for me. There was an…altercation. Mr. Baker stepped in and saved me, just as he did with the loaf of bread. My mother was very impressed. Oh, just imagine it, Helen. He's going to be here - isn't it wonderful?" Anne exclaimed, her heart filled with expectant joy as to what was to come.

But Helen adopted a more practical approach to Anne's romantic inclinations.

"I'm sure it is, my Lady. But…are you sure about this? You hardly know him. Not really, I mean. At least with the others you…knew their reputations beforehand," she said.

"But I do know him. I know him well enough, at least. He's a delight. You should've seen the way he behaved this evening – he's a perfect gentleman," she said, wanting only to defend William in the face of Helen's doubts.

It was true, Anne did not know William, but any courtship began in such a way. There was no couple for whom the word "stranger" had not once been applied. Friends were strangers once, lovers were strangers once, and wives and husbands, too, were once strangers. That was the excitement of something new – the possibility of getting to know a person, of finding out about them, of asking questions, and revealing something of oneself, too. Anne felt excited at the prospect, even as she knew William was not the same as so many others. He was not of the same mould as Lord Peter or Maximilian. William was different, and it was his difference Anne liked.

"I'm sure he is, my Lady. But I don't want to see you hurt, that's all. It can be all too easy to be caught up in the romance of it all," Helen said.

Anne rolled her eyes. What did Helen know about romance? Her maid had never had a love interest, or so Anne believed. She was merely putting a dampener on Anne's expectations, and folding her arms, Anne fixed her with a defiant glare.

"I won't be hurt. I'd have been hurt by Lord Peter, or Maximilian, or whoever else my parents had chosen. But even if I am hurt, it'll be of my own doing, won't it?" she said, and Helen nodded.

"As you wish, my Lady," she replied, helping Anne ready herself for bed.

As she lay down that night, Anne's thoughts were filled with the possibility of what was to come – of William and the dinner on Friday.

"It'll be wonderful," she told herself, imagining what she would wear, and what they would talk about.

Do you like Charlotte Russe? Oh, no, it doesn't matter what he likes – mother chooses the menus with the cook. But we could drink wine. Do you care for any particular wine, Mr. Baker? My father imports from France. But he'll know that, won't he? He probably imports wine himself. Do you read, Mr. Baker? I've just finished a wonderful set of novels about a baron, and…oh, but I'll sound so foolish. He'll think me dreadfully common to be reading penny novels.

I wonder what his interests are – has he travelled? Do you know Rome, Mr. Baker? He's probably been to far more places than I have – I don't know Rome. Oh, I hope I don't make a fool of myself. It's one thing to dance with a man, quite another to be faced with him across the dinner table," Anne thought to herself, trying, and failing, to go to sleep, so excited was she at the prospect of what was to come, even as her nerves were at fever pitch.