The Trouble with Anna

Chapter 44

CHAPTER 44

T WO DAYS LATER, ANNA RETURNED to the house pink and windblown after a gallop on Charon in the park. Technically, galloping in the park was frowned upon, and galloping until pink was positively forbidden. Usually Anna sucked in her cheeks and followed the rules, but today she hadn’t been able to resist the lure of a good, hard run.

She frowned as she made her way across the foyer. Perhaps tomorrow she could sneak off to Hampstead and have a real ride and let the wind blow away the cobwebs and rid her of the nagging sense that—

Levy stepped forward. “My lady, the Countess Ramsay awaits you in the grand salon.”

“Splendid! I’ll be down as soon as I’ve changed.” A cup of tea with the Dowager would be just the thing. Especially in the grand salon, which was papered in a pale, calming green and had the most charming pillars carved to look like palm fronds. “But wasn’t the Dowager meant to be at her garden club?”

Levy kept his face impassive. “Not the Dowager Countess, my lady. The, ahem, current one.”

Anna stopped in her tracks. It felt like the clocks stopped too, and even the air was hushed, as if everyone had forgotten to breathe. The house was much too quiet. Surely there should be bells clanging or pots banging or some warning .

“ Charlotte’s mother?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“But—but”—Anna flapped her hands, feeling like a panicked chicken—“surely she wants Charlotte?”

“Lady Charlotte is out, and the Countess requested—”

“Charlotte must be coming home any minute.”

“Not for several hours, my lady. However, the Countess informed me that she called expressly to see you.”

“ Me? No. She couldn’t possibly want to see me.” Anna shook her head decisively. “There must be some mistake.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t, my lady.”

“Dash it! Well, she’ll simply have to come back another time. I’m due at Josephine’s any moment, you see, so—”

“I believe your appointment is not for another two hours, my lady.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “Yes, Levy, how meticulous you are. However, I have another appointment—”

“The Countess said she would wait, my lady.” Levy’s facade cracked. “ Wait. ”

“Oh. Yes. Right.” Anna could see how uncomfortable that would be for the household. Like having a wolf in the drawing room, and everyone wondering when it might get hungry.

Anna’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose I’ll be right in.”

“Very good, my lady.”

Anna pushed open the door to the grand salon. “My lady?”

The Countess had claimed the central settee, her skirts swallowing the whole of it in cresting waves of silk. As always, the Countess held herself in perfect stillness, as if she were a portrait, as if the cold perfection of her beauty—the mass of dark hair, the ivory brow, the sculpted upper lip—demanded slow and careful study. Charlotte and her mother had much the same features, but where Charlotte’s face was mobile, laughing, moving all the time, the Countess seemed to regard each new expression as a gift bestowed on the unworthy. Anna wondered if the Countess could sit unmoving, perhaps even unblinking, all day.

Frosty blue eyes swept Anna up and down. “You’re dressing like a countess, at least. I presume Charlotte chose your gown?”

Anna had the urge to peek down at herself. She’d changed into a hunter-green morning dress with a white stand-up collar and a neat row of buttons down the bodice. A military style, by no accident. “She did.”

“It was long past time someone took you in hand. Sit down.”

Anna perched awkwardly on a side chair. “What an honor to see you, my lady. How did you find France?”

The Countess flicked her a look. “I did not come to gab about my travels.”

Anna gave a weak smile. Outside, she could hear the squeak of wheels and the clop-clop of horse hooves on the cobblestones as carriages passed by. Inside, the mantel clock ticked in slow beats, each second its own eternity. “Shall I ring for tea?”

“I do not come to partake of refreshment, either.”

“If you came for Charlotte, she’s not due home until—”

“I believe I know my own daughter’s whereabouts.”

“I see.”

Another flick of a look. “You don’t see farther than your own nose, girl. Not if you intend to marry Ramsay.”

Anna shot to her feet. “I’m quite late for an appointment—”

“Sit down, you silly child. I haven’t finished yet.”

“I believe I’m finished—”

“I said sit down .”

Much to her dismay, Anna sat.

The Countess smiled wide, a brief flash of teeth. “You’re right to be wary. I’m no friend to your fiancé.”

Anna went hot. “I will not sit here while you disparage him. He’s been nothing but generous with you. I’ve seen the books myself.”

The Countess allowed herself a look of mild surprise. “You’ve seen the books, have you? What a little shopkeeper! I suppose your first act as Countess will be to cut off my funds?”

“Of course not,” Anna said miserably. “You have the right to an independence.”

“I agree. Yet my marriage contract did not stipulate much of a living at all. So instead of independence , I live on Ramsay’s generosity. Soon I will live on your generosity as well. How lovely for me.”

“Oh. Oh!” The fight puffed out of Anna. “Is that why you came? My lady, I assure you I would never —”

The Countess gave a hiss of disgust. “I certainly did not come to beg . I came to offer you a gift.”

Anna eyed the Countess warily. She felt like a child in a deep, dark woods, looking down at a polished apple in a gnarled old hand. Except those children had absolutely no sense, and she had plenty. “How kind, but there’s no need.”

“Don’t be so hasty, child. Perhaps you would be interested to know that I am acquainted with your aunt Prudence. Distantly acquainted, so imagine my surprise when she wrote with news of your grandfather’s death and the most intimate details about his will.” The Countess’s smile grew wider when Anna’s cheeks went red. “She asked me the likelihood of a man of Ramsay’s stature marrying a young girl like you. A girl of no beauty, who stinks of the stables, has a scandal for a mother, and only her grandfather’s wealth to recommend her.”

Anna found that she was shaking. “There can be no reason for you to insult—”

“It was my pleasure to inform your aunt that there was no likelihood of marriage at all. Your marriage was a certainty.” The Countess had cat eyes, just like Charlotte’s. They narrowed to slits when she was pleased. “Surely you wondered why Julian offered for you? He could have arranged another marriage. He could have left you out in the cold. He could simply have bought Chatham and given it to you. So why did he insist so doggedly on marriage, right from the very beginning, when by all accounts you fought him?”

“I hardly believe Julian confides in you.”

“Of course not. But I wager he also does not confide in you. Does he?”

Anna’s fists clenched, her nails bit into her hands. This was what they didn’t tell you about the old tales, while you assured yourself that you would never eat the gingerbread or that you would chuck the apple at the witch’s head and gallop off on your horse. They never told you that you would see the terrible mistake, and make it anyway.

Anna swallowed. “No. I can’t say that he does.”

“Then let me tell you a story. Julian’s father was a drunk, did you know? He died when Julian was fifteen, much too young to manage an estate the size of Clare, let alone the others. Julian was left with a guardian, his father’s steward. A man Julian had known since he was a child, a man who had taught him to shoot and ride and who I often thought was closer to Julian than his real father ever could be. But he stole from the estate, vast amounts. Between his father’s mismanagement and his guardian’s embezzlement, the earldom was on the verge of ruin.”

“I don’t see—”

“No. You don’t. But I remember just how Julian looked when he learned of the betrayal. I saw his expression when he came back from the library and informed us that Atkinson had shot himself rather than face disgrace.” The Countess’s face went flat. “Julian would never walk away from you—his ward!—not when he knows betrayal so intimately himself. It’s simply not in his nature. If you are marrying Julian to become a countess, then I congratulate you. But if you care for him and want him to care for you, then no happiness will come your way. Don’t deceive yourself, child. Julian marries you for duty, nothing more.”

Anna clenched the sides of her chair, screaming inside. “Why have you told me all this?”

“Because when I was younger than you, no one thought to tell me I was entering into marriage with a dangerous drunk. I’ve given you the truth, which is more courtesy than anyone ever did me.” The Countess rose and drifted over to the grand salon’s wide doors. “What you do with it is up to you.”

The doors clicked shut behind her.

Do not panic , Anna told herself firmly as she made her straight-backed way up the stairs.

“Ivy?” she called, pleased with how steady her voice sounded, almost as if her insides weren’t dissolving into jelly. “I could do with a turn in the park. Would you accompany me, please?”

The pair walked for an hour and Anna managed not to panic the entire time, nodding and smiling under the barren trees as Ivy described Charlotte’s many lurid plans for the wedding night lingerie.

Look at me. Look at how well I’m not panicking! she thought, as she dressed for dinner that night and slurped her way through the soup course. She refused to acknowledge the shake in her hands, or the little spots of consommé that fell onto the Dowager’s antique lace table mats. When the fish course was served, Anna dutifully swallowed it down, noticing how wonderfully flaky the cod was even though she shouldn’t taste a thing.

Julian was marrying her out of duty.

The problem was, she knew it was true. She’d known from the first moment he’d announced his intentions in the library back in Chatham, using polite words that didn’t match his furious face. She’d crackled with suspicion when he started to court her, which was why she’d guarded herself so carefully. But her poor heart was such a fool. It had sung a song of longing into Anna’s ear, filling her head up with such aching hope that—

“Oh, stop it!” Anna muttered into her pudding, earning a startled look from Charlotte.

“What was that?”

“Oh, syllabub!” Anna said. “I adore a good syllabub, don’t you?”

Charlotte looked even more startled but chose not to comment, too occupied with her own problems. “So Mother was here today? How strange she didn’t stay to see me!” Her hair curled tighter, as if it were retreating into itself. “I’d better call on her tomorrow. Did she look well? The last time I saw her she was quite low, you see, and…” She trailed off, staring down into her dessert.

“Oh yes!” Anna reassured quickly. “The Countess looked quite well. Magnificent, even.”

Like a tiger with a fresh kill in her jaws.

Later that night, Anna put aside the thin lawn nightgown that Ivy had laid out for her, reaching into the back of her wardrobe for one of the thick, comforting flannels from home. She lay in bed and stared up at the canopy as panic sneaked up and nipped at her toes.

Julian marries you for duty, nothing more.

It might have started that way, but surely everything had changed? She twisted her ring and the flat diamonds winked up at her. Surely a man who commissioned jewelry that could be worn in the mud must have at least a little affection for her?

But was it love?

Who cares! cried a voice inside. Marry him! Choose bliss!

As the witching hour ticked closer, the gremlins grew bolder. They attacked from everywhere, digging their sharp nails deep into her heart, poking cold fingers into all her weakest places. They found her vulnerabilities and feasted.

No, no! Stop it. You suffered for months thinking your grandfather didn’t love you and he did. See?

She felt loved by Julian, yet it was also true he wore his duty much too heavily, like a suit of chain mail. Could she marry Julian, if he was only making the best of things? Could she do that to him, when she loved him so madly?

The gremlins snickered and moved in for the kill.

Oh, hell. I do believe I’m panicking.

Anna waited for the first rays of sun to peek through the damask curtains, then burst out of bed and ran downstairs in her nightclothes.

“Levy! Levy!” she cried, nearly crashing into the butler. “Call for a carriage! I must leave at once !”