The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

W HEN TIMES WERE DIFFICULT, WHEN circumstances threatened to overwhelm, only one thing worked for Anna. She called for a horse and went riding.

She couldn’t take Sally, whose friendly eyes would undo her. Nor Archer, who was wickedly fast but far too playful for the brutal weight of her emotion. No, she needed speed but also thundering, furious muscle. Which was why she chose old Decimus and urged him into a gallop. As if her problems could be outrun.

There were so many awful things about this business, and yet one thought was so much worse than all the others, so unbearably painful that she quaked when she got near it, like a surgeon hovering helplessly over a fatal wound.

She’d loved her grandfather. Often with exasperation, often in spite of herself, but she’d loved him.

It was now clear he hadn’t loved her back.

Once, in the faraway London days when Anna was a child, her mother had dashed in for one of the quick, laughing visits she made all too infrequently. Anna had cast around for something to say that would catch her attention, but all she had come up with was a simple question. “Mama, what was your father like?”

To Anna’s amazement, it had worked. Caroline’s laughing eyes went serious for once and she’d perched herself on top of Anna’s plush quilts. “He wasn’t always nice. He didn’t bother himself much with me or my mother, and he loathed my aunt Prudence, so much that he forbade her visits. He says women are either frivolous, weak, or meddling, and I’m afraid I never did much to prove him wrong.” Caroline shot her daughter a considering look. “He might like you, though, Anna.”

Anna snapped her eyebrows together. “Well, I don’t like anyone who is mean to you. I’ll make him sorry if he says the slightest thing!”

“Aren’t you my fierce little dragon! But your grandfather is head of the family and you must show him proper respect.” A conspiratorial smile crossed Caroline’s face, and she leaned in. “He’s also very hard to make sorry, and I certainly tried.”

“Wasn’t Papa the head of our family?”

Caroline frowned. “I suppose he must have been when he was alive, although he never seemed all that bothered. He was so tall, with such impressive shoulders, but in the end he was just as unreliable as the rest of them. Even worse, because at first I thought…”

Her voice trailed off, and for the briefest second her face tightened.

Caroline glanced down at her daughter. “You look like him, did you know? I don’t suppose you remember him much. Somehow the Reston features make more sense on a man. It’s lucky, really, that you’re such a plain little thing. They won’t come after you as they have me.”

Anna must have gone stiff because Caroline’s eyes filled with dismay.

“Oh, poppet! I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” She brushed the hair off Anna’s forehead. “I only meant… but you mustn’t listen to me—no one else does. And you mustn’t be like me either. You’re perfect the way you are, darling. I saw it the second they placed you in my arms, on the very best day of my life. Now, into bed with you.”

Anna pulled at her mother’s hand. “Stay awhile longer? Just until I fall asleep?”

“Not tonight. I mustn’t be late to the Condesa’s.”

“Shall we go to the park tomorrow?” asked Anna.

“Tomorrow I’m off to the country.” Caroline leaned down to press a kiss on her daughter’s flushed cheek. “No moping! I’ll be back soon enough and I’ll bring you a lovely present.”

Of course, Anna’s mother hadn’t returned from the country. Her carriage had crashed, and it killed the coachman, Caroline, and the married nobleman she’d been traveling with. Caroline Reston, always so bright and laughing, was shut up in a wooden box and the scandal she’d left behind lived long after she did. And now there was another wooden box, another funeral, and once again the queasy feeling of the ground falling away beneath Anna’s feet.

“Anna! Anna!” A voice rang out from the woods beside the meadow.

She looked up to see Charlotte waving from the back of a horse.

Anna gave a slight cue and the massive Thoroughbred threw his weight into his haunches, his back hooves carving grooves into the ground as they slowed. “Charlotte!” she called. “I had nothing to do with that repulsive will. I would never —”

Charlotte galloped over. “Of course you wouldn’t!”

“Then why do you look so angry?”

“I’m angry at your grandfather, you twit! My brother, too! I wish I had a basket of rotten eggs at the ready. Oh, my poor Anna! How could they be so horrid?”

Anna’s eyes went bright and she snapped them shut. “It’s the worst part. That my grandfather…”

“Anna?”

Anna shook her head.

Charlotte reached over and grabbed her hand. “You have to say the most horrible things out loud. That’s how they lose their power. That’s how you turn them from nightmares into problems to solve.” She thought a moment. “Either that, or we egg your grandfather’s gravestone?”

For the first time since her grandfather died, Anna laughed. “Yes, let’s!”

Charlotte peeped over at her. “Do you really lose everything in six months? Surely your grandfather set something aside?”

“I have a small living from my father. Enough to stretch to a cottage.” Not enough to keep Chatham. Not even enough to keep a horse. Anna took a deep breath. “That’s the other worst part—it all goes to my cousin Simon in six months, who will only gamble it away. Most of the servants will be fine, but Hutchins and some of the others are getting older and—”

“Anna, really! You’re allowed a minute to spare for your own problems.”

Charlotte jumped down off her horse, and for the first time Anna saw her properly. Her forehead wrinkled. Charlotte wore a cherry-red riding habit with yards and yards of skirt and a jacket that was much too tight for proper galloping. Worst of all was the black top hat that Charlotte had perched at an improbable angle over her right eye. Surely it was much too big and would slip down and blind her at the first fence?

“Are you quite comfortable riding in that?” Anna asked, slipping down off Decimus.

“Lord, no! It’s shocking for anything except the most sedate canter. But it’s tremendous for swishing around town. I can’t tell you how much fun I’ve had brandishing my hat at people. It’s my brother’s, you know—I nicked it from him.”

“Well done.”

“Oh, look! I must show you my embroidery.” Charlotte lifted up a flounce on her skirt to reveal a swirling line of secret writing that spelled out: If you must break a law, do it to seize power. “Julius Caesar. It’s my motto for this year’s Season.”

“Extremely well done!”

The two young women fell into pace beside each other, leading their horses. They were so terribly different, only it never seemed to matter for the month each year when Charlotte was at Mayne, or the rest of the year when they put the Royal Mail through its paces. But surely one day—Anna peeked down at her own riding habit, which she had to admit was rather awful—one day soon, Charlotte would start to feel their differences. Surely she would start to mind.

Charlotte tilted her head. “I suppose the easiest thing would be to take you to London and find you a husband?”

“Ha!” barked Anna. The stark planes of Lord Ramsay’s face flashed into Anna’s mind, and she pushed him firmly out again. What would going to London help? She couldn’t quite picture a man gazing at her across a ballroom and thinking, Aha! Look at that small woman! I shall give her my fortune and hope she rescues the servants from her old estate and buys a great many horses! “I don’t want a husband,” she said firmly. “I’d much rather have a really good horse.”

Charlotte choked out a laugh. “Don’t let the gentlemen hear you say that.”

“I mean it! I just want a stable of my own—a purpose of my own.” She sighed. “Or at the very least a livelihood.”

Charlotte considered. “If you control Chatham until your cousin takes over, might you simply skim a bit off the top?”

“Charlotte!”

She shrugged. “Many of the oldest fortunes come from thievery. Or from gambling. You can’t imagine the sums I’ve made on your racing tips.”

Anna perked up. “Really? How much?”

“I’m quite good at gambling and you’re quite good at picking horses. Let’s just say the combination is highly satisfactory.”

An idea winked at Anna, demanding attention. She felt like lying down in her own grave, but that was no way forward.

“Ooh! You’re looking quite steely-eyed,” said Charlotte. “Do you have a scheme in mind?” She clapped her hands. “Does it involve disguises? I have the most adorable black mask with black paste diamantes, and I’ve been saving it for just the right occasion.”

“I do have a little bit of money set away. Perhaps with my racing knowledge and your skill at gambling…”

Charlotte straightened. “Yes! Absolutely! I know just the person to place bets for us in London, and I’ll throw in a bit of my allowance too. Oh, how delicious!”

Anna had to laugh. “It’s just a spot of mischief. It won’t solve anything.”

Charlotte shook her head, suddenly solemn. “Never doubt the power of mischief. You’re onto something, I can feel it.”