The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

T HE SPECIAL LICENSE WAS MAGIC .

At least, that was the only explanation for why time seemed to speed up and everyone acted suddenly so peculiar. Some of it Anna expected, such as Charlotte tearing through sketchbooks and muttering about wedding gowns, lingerie, and inconsiderate people who ought to know how long it takes to put together a proper trousseau. Or the Dowager, who kept conjuring jewelry out of little drawers and presenting it to Anna, like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat.

“This tiara was my great-grandmother’s. It’s a—”

“ Hideous piece,” said Charlotte, grabbing it away from Anna to inspect the rows of glittering green and white stones. “Perhaps if we refashion this front part into a rearing horse?”

“Charlotte Louisa Aveton, if you dare —”

Charlotte laughed and passed it back to Anna. “I’m only funning, Gran. It’s lovely and the emeralds will look wonderful on Anna.”

Anna swiveled her head between the two of them, at a loss. Charlotte’s mood was so changeable, now that her mother was camped out in Calais like a general threatening to invade. “It is lovely, but I can’t take anything Charlotte wants.”

Charlotte laughed again and the Dowager shook her head. “Charlotte has a tiara and an aigrette already. This one was set aside for Julian’s wife, which means, of course, that it’s for you .”

Anna smiled uncertainly. She’d been feeling more uncertain every day, and never more so than when Julian had taken his leave of her to spend a week at Clare, his main estate.

“Must you go?” Anna had said on the day of his departure, standing with him in the front hall.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I must if we’re to take a month in Ireland. My bailiff has questions and he says they can’t keep that long. No, Countess, don’t look at me like that. Close your eyes and think of our honeymoon, the rolling green hills and horses galore.”

Anna mustered a smile and Julian leaned in for a kiss, and helplessly for another, and then his carriage clattered off and he was gone. Even though the Dowager’s house was as full and bustling as ever, to Anna it felt silent.

She was to be married—to Julian. She was to be his Countess, his wife . She’d rise with him each morning and sleep in his bed each night.

Admittedly, that last part sounded marvelous. Especially when Julian was around to draw her into darkened nooks and whisper delicious things in her ear. But now he was gone, the darkened nooks were empty, and she was so deeply in love that it felt like she might drown.

He loves you too! she told herself stoutly. Except that he’d never once—even with all the nook whispering—said a single word about his feelings. Anna rubbed her thumb over the flat stones of her new ring, as she’d begun to do anytime doubts crept in.

Strangely enough, her grandfather’s voice came to her. Do you know the secret of racing, child? When in doubt, run forward.

So day by day, Anna did.

Two weeks before the wedding, Charlotte charged into Anna’s bedchamber. “Get up, slugabed!” She drew up straighter when she spotted Anna awake, dressed, and sitting at her writing desk, staring calmly back at her. “Oh! You’re awake already?”

“I’ve been up for ages with my correspondence. Rothschild’s offered a fortune to put his mare to Archer, but—”

“Horses, bah!” Charlotte waved a sheaf of papers. “I have Josephine’s sketches for your wedding gown . Come see!”

Charlotte jumped onto the bed, sat up on her knees, and carefully arranged the sketches in a semicircle on the counterpane. “Look how clever! She’s sent over a spool of the embroidery thread. It’s the palest blue, just like the gown, but it has the most darling strands of gold in it.”

Anna tiptoed over to the bed. “Oh, Charlotte!” she breathed.

Her wedding dress. The dress she’d wear to marry Julian in two weeks’ time.

It seemed modest at first glance, befitting a morning wedding by special license with only family in attendance. The cut was plain, with a boat neck, a broad sash under the bust, and a skirt that flared gently to the floor. But the square of fabric and embroidery thread Josephine had pinned to one of the sketches was worthy of a countess. Worthy of a queen, even. The silk was a pale, shimmering blue, like a misty morning sky, and against it the gold strands in the thread looked like the first glinting rays of the sun. She would come to Julian dressed as a new beginning, holding hope in her hands.

Anna’s stomach kicked and she had to look away.

When Julian was near, she floated. When he was gone, her thoughts crashed around like leathery old bats, scaring her more each day.

There was a slight rap at the door and Ivy poked her head in. “Lady Anna, there’s a gentleman waiting for you in the small salon.”

Anna’s heart leapt. “His lordship’s back early?”

“No, my lady. The gentleman is a Mr. Gerald Ingram. He’s calling from the law firm Ingram & Ingram.”

“Send him away,” Charlotte called. “Ivy, the sketches are here!”

Ivy squealed. “Ooh! May I see?”

Anna waved her in. “Of course! Come look at them with Charlotte and I’ll pop down and see what this Mr. Ingram wants. Back in a moment.”

“Mr. Ingram?”

The man, sitting awkwardly on a settee, jumped to his feet and gave Anna a jerky bow. He was tall, red-haired, and whip-thin, and although he looked young for a solicitor, he already carried himself with a slight stoop, as if his round, rather owlish head was too heavy for the rest of him.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Help me? Goodness, I would never presume—I’ve come to help you . That is…” Mr. Ingram colored deeply and began again. “Forgive me, my lady. I’ve brought a delivery.”

The parcel was wrapped in brown paper and sealed with a sturdy red splodge of wax. He held it out with an air of expectation.

“Thank you,” Anna said. “I’m not familiar with your firm. Do you represent a stud?”

Mr. Ingram blinked. “A stud, my lady?”

“I presume you’ve come about one of my horses?”

“Oh! Why, no, my lady.”

“Then whom do you represent, if you please?”

“The deceased, of course!” Mr. Ingram paused in thought. “Though—I suppose—yes! We represent you now, my lady.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Perhaps if your ladyship would care to read the letter?”

Anna broke the wafer to reveal a sheaf of documents and an envelope with her name scratched across it. The familiar, spiky handwriting made her catch her breath, and her hands trembled as she slid the letter out:

My Dearest Anna,

If you are reading this, you are on the eve of your wedding. How do you like him? I picked him out myself and a fine prize he is. The Ramsays are an old family and the current earl is rich and reasonable in the saddle. It would be hard to do better and you could certainly do much worse.

I imagine you squawked when you first read my will, but it was all for your own good. Females need husbands, child! It’s the truth of the world, no matter how you try to deny it. I always aimed to get you a good one.

Still, I won’t rest easy if you believe I broke my promises. I certainly did not—I only played a small and necessary trick. Ingram & Ingram will present you with a copy of my final will, which leaves you Chatham, my funds, and my racing stud. Outright, with no conditions. Had you decided against Ramsay, you would have received it at the six-month deadline anyway.

My darling girl, the horses were the delight of my life until you arrived at Chatham. I would not leave them in any other hands.

Be happy, be well, and be good to my horses .

Your loving grandfather,

Barton

Anna read the letter once quickly, a second time more slowly, and a third and final time simply to give her something to do other than scream.

“Oh.” She sank down on the settee. “I see.”

Mr. Ingram gave an audible sigh of relief. “Yes, well… I daresay… Please know that my father and I debated whether we should even take such an odd commission. It was all most irregular.”

Anna cracked her lips in a gruesome attempt at a smile. “My grandfather was most irregular.”

“Rather! Yes! My father—the senior Mr. Ingram, of course—asked me to make it quite clear…” Mr. Ingram paused and blinked his large eyes. “Most awkward, you know.”

Anna folded her hands in her lap and held them there. If she wasn’t vigilant, her hands might lash out and inflict injury on the Dowager’s prized row of ceramic milkmaids, staring vacant-eyed from the top of the mantel. If she wasn’t careful, she’d leap up and behead the milkmaids, or whack away their dainty feet. She’d break their tiny buckets, smash their smiling faces, and dance on their remains with hobnail boots until nothing was left but little pastel piles of milkmaid dust.

Mr. Ingram pulled his waistcoat straight. “My father, the senior Mr. Ingram, was uncomfortable with your grandfather’s final request. He asked that I make it quite clear to you… that is…”

Anna wasn’t paying attention. She had moved on from milkmaids to grandfathers. Oh, what a fiend the Viscount was! If he were alive, she’d salt his fields. She’d raze Chatham to the ground and cackle as he squealed.

Tears stung at Anna’s eyes and she blinked frantically, determined not to cry. Because if her grandfather were still alive, the truth was she’d horrify them both by flinging herself into his gnarled old arms and sobbing her eyes out. He’d made a casual wreck of her life as a trick! AS A TRICK FOR HER OWN GOOD! And all she wanted was to press her head against his traitorous chest and have him pat her with a gruff, “Enough now, child! There, there.”

“Lady Anna?” said Mr. Ingram.

“I’m right here!” Anna cried. “I haven’t moved! If you wish to say something, no one is stopping you.”

Mr. Ingram turned, if it was possible, an even deeper pink. “Of course! Apologies! The senior Mr. Ingram asked me to make it clear that you are to receive your inheritance whether you marry or not. He wanted to make sure you were not pressured by circumstances to… ahem!… to…”

“If you have a point, please come to it!”

Mr. Ingram took a big breath and his words came out in an embarrassed rush. “I am obligated to make clear there’s no need to marry against your wishes!”

“Against my wishes?” Anna gave a howling laugh and stood up abruptly. “Mr. Ingram, thank you for your call. I’ll have my man of business contact you shortly.”

Mr. Ingram picked up his hat. “Of course! Of course. We’ll get you all settled.” He gave two jerky bows and scuttled out of the salon, only to thrust his head back in a moment later. “Do consider Ingram & Ingram for your future legal needs!”

Once the door clicked shut, Anna flopped face-forward onto the settee, pressing her hot cheeks against the cool silk.

She’d have to tell Julian. Of course she’d tell him, just as soon as he returned from Clare. It was deeply humiliating, but that was nothing new when it came to her grandfather and his legal documents. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference to Julian because they weren’t marrying to secure her future, not anymore. They were marrying because—

They were marrying because—

Anna whimpered.

She was marrying Julian because at some point over the past few months, her heart had leapt out of her chest and dived at him. Perhaps it had happened the first time his mouth twitched, or the first time he poked at her and made her mouth twitch too. Perhaps it was because she felt so much larger when he was around, as if Julian was her moon and drew her up to her high tide. Maybe it was how he leapt into their fights, but listened just as fiercely. Perhaps it was that the stupid man always put duty before himself, and needed someone to look after him. Anna wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her bones had turned to butter and it was all his fault.

And Julian was marrying her because—

Because—

Because surely he loved her too?

She buried her face deep into the upholstery and howled.