Chapter 4 #2
While the house was stately, its tall exterior dotted with windows and parted by a large wooden door at the entrance, it did not make Ana feel small and insignificant like the Ashmore estate had in London.
Instead, it felt just large enough to be inviting but not so large as to eliminate any feelings of coziness or comfort.
Ivy curled up the gold-brown brick, covering nearly half the exterior and framing a good portion of the windows as well.
The remnants of fall blooms were scattered about the gardens, their faded colors peeking about the curving paths.
Ana had also spotted a small hewn stone chapel through the trees that she would surely be visiting each week.
It was almost enough to distract her from the squeamishness of her stomach.
The staff was just as lovely as the estate, although they were quite pointed in their behavior toward the couple, just as Peter had expected.
“We have prepared your mother’s rooms for your wife and the adjoining rooms for yourself, my lord. I believe such arrangements should be pleasing to you.”
Burnsey, the butler, had bowed his head, but Ana didn’t miss the teasing glint in his eye or the twitching smile that played at his lips.
For all he knew, they would be like any other recently married couple, eager to spend every moment in each other’s company, waking and sleeping.
And while the two had experienced proximity while they were escaping San Sebastián, they had never done so with carefully listening ears and watchful eyes all about.
“Thank you, Burnsey. Those arrangements will be perfect indeed,” Peter said. “Allow me to present the Honorable Mrs. Ana María Ashmore, my wife.”
Widened eyes and a gaping mouth made it clear that this Mr. Burnsey had not expected Peter to attach himself to a foreigner. But as Ana scanned his features, she did not see any hints of fear or hatred, only surprise. For that, she was entirely grateful.
Still, Ana would not permit any sort of anxiousness about her country of origin.
She would make herself familiar with the staff here, and in doing so, fully intended to continue with her traditional greeting of besos, as it would help her feel more comfortable as well.
So she stepped forward, kissing Burnsey on each cheek, much to his immediate embarrassment.
When she stepped back, his face was flushed, and his words were stammering.
“Welcome to Abbeygate, Mrs. Ashmore,” he managed to say with a slight smile.
Her new title could not feel more foreign or ill-fitting. If she was to have some degree of safety and comfort here at Abbeygate, she wished the staff would address her as a friend.
“Ana,” she corrected, her Spanish pronunciation tall and bright.
“Of course,” he replied with a nod. “Mrs. Ana Ashmore.”
“No, just Ana.”
Burnsey locked eyes with Peter, who chuckled slightly. Then he placed a hand on her back and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“I know you prefer to be called Ana, but here, you must allow them to use a title. It’s their way of showing love and respect for you.”
He could certainly choose to be called by a title of sorts, but Ana would go by the name her mother and father had given her. She had inherited every bit of fire and stubbornness that her father had possessed and would not give up a fight easily.
“Because I marry you. Not because soy una lady. I no want to separate me from they.” Ana would not pretend to love an identity she felt wasn’t true. It felt like a lie, a secret.
Peter cleared his throat, betraying his discomfort. “Please, Ana. It’s not about separation. It is merely about maintaining a standard that has been normal for years. This is our way of life here—our tradition, you might say.”
Tradition. He would know this word held such power over her. Peter had always respected the traditions of Espana and her familia. In this matter, she would have to do the same for him.
“Bueno. Mrs. Ana. I no understand why we have to be so formal, pero bueno.”
Peter’s eyebrows raised ever higher, but he pressed her hand and nodded to Burnsey.
“Please alert me or Mrs. Thompson, the housekeeper, if there is anything we can help you with,” Burnsey said.
“I will do that. Gracias.” Ana María nodded, stretching her smile as bright and as wide as the sky.
A faint redness tinged Burnsey’s cheeks and, much to Ana’s surprise, his face parted in a wavering smile.
And with it, any tightness in her shoulders relaxed.
If she could put the staff at ease, she could be certain that she would be happy here.
Even though she and Peter both had a great deal to learn in their marriage and their new responsibilities, surely this was a good indication of their hopeful future.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Ana. We are so pleased to serve you.”
“Gracias, Mrs. Tom-som.” Ana stumbled over the name as she pressed quick besos to the woman’s round cheeks.
“Can I favor you with a tour of the estate?” Mrs. Thompson asked as she stepped forward.
Her flat, swallowed accent was even more foreign than Burnsey’s.
The short lady was quite petite and struck more of a wiry figure than a motherly one.
But her cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes were bright with genuine happiness.
This may not be Ana’s own mamá, but she surely was a kind and trusted figure here.
However, Ana’s condition would not allow for a tour at present. Even now, her legs trembled with exhaustion and her stomach throbbed with pain. Ana wanted to see every room in the house, explore the place that her child would come to love someday. But for now, her sickness could not be ignored.
“Lo siento, but I no feel very well. I need un poco rest, I believe.” Her hands jumped to her midsection before she could pull them downward again.
Would Mrs. Thompson guess at the real cause for her maladies?
Not wanting to give the impression of her condition, Ana rubbed a hand across her forehead, feigning a headache.
How difficult it was already proving to keep such a sensitive secret from these people who would be caring for her and working alongside her.
Ana tried not to tremble with exhaustion as Mrs. Thompson assisted her in changing into a more comfortable day gown.
They would have to find a maid, at least according to Peter.
Ana was happy to care for such responsibilities on her own, but he insisted that it would get increasingly difficult with her pregnancy.
“Are you nervous, little dove?” Mrs. Thompson asked. “Not to worry, my lady. Mr. Peter Ashmore has always been a most gentle soul. And I can tell he cares greatly for you.”
“Gracias, Senora. I am well.”
“How did the two of you find each other, if you mind me asking?”
“We know each other en Espana for the first time. He is very good soldier, and very pretty.” Mrs. Thompson laughed.
Ana blushed; she would not lie about that.
After all, he was her husband now. Thankfully, there were some small slivers of their history that could make it sound like a believable love story.
“He try so much to speak Spanish to me. And very soon after, he says he loves me. I could not believe. I laugh so much.” She had great difficulty expressing such things in English, but apparently the meaning was not lost on Mrs. Thompson, who laughed heartily.
“That does sound like Peter. Always a sweet little pup, he was.”
“He was very good and kind to me and my father.” Ana’s voice broke at that, her heart constricting. How had she endured this day without Papá? The pain wrapped thick arms around her, squeezing the breath from her lungs.
“Oh, my dear. You must miss your family, sweetling.” Mrs. Thompson’s gentle hands combed through her hair.
“Sí. Mucho.”
Ana had always imagined her father and her husband would get along delightfully. Now, Papá had a son-in-law and a nieta on the way that he would never get to see.
“I may not speak your Spanish, but I’ll do me best to help you.
Whatever you need, you hear?” Mrs. Thompson gave her back a gentle rub as she tucked Ana’s freshly plaited hair over her shoulder.
“And as for Mr. Ashmore, trust me that all will be well. He loves you, I’m sure, and he’ll take great and tender care of you.
I’ll let him know that you’re ailing, and I’ll send up a tray from the kitchens.
Now you come ’ere and rest on your bed. There’s a dear. ”
And with that, Ana was left alone, her bed far too soft and far too large, and her room entirely too quiet.
It was incredibly unnerving to be waiting in such a state, even knowing, as she did, that her husband would pay her no company tonight.
After a long time ruminating over his attempted conversation on the topic earlier, she finally understood what he had been trying to say.
As both of them had intended from the start, their marriage would remain an arrangement of protection, not affection.
There was to be no expectation of intimacy between them, which filled her with relief.
Still, her mind teemed with nearly every emotion imaginable, and her body filled to the brim with tension as she heard occasional footsteps in the hallway.
How could she feel so peaceful, so nervous, and so devastated all within the same day?
The gratitude that she felt for Peter had no bounds.
He had saved her in every way imaginable.
But still, she felt her heart would split open with pain at the thought of beginning a new life with a husband and child in a country so entirely different than her home.
And she had no concept of knowing if she would see her mother ever again, although that particular worry was not a new one.
A quiet, vibrating knock sounded on the main door to her rooms, interrupting her thoughts. Ana jumped, instinctively pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. Her heart was thundering, nearly blocking out the whispered words that floated toward her from the wooden door.
“May I open the door?”
She knitted her fingers into the folds of her gown, trying to breathe down a wave of panic. It was just Peter. He would not harm her.
“Yes,”
“Estás bien, Ana?”
“Si,” she whispered.
Peter eased the door open and practically tiptoed to her side. His cautious demeanor would have been humorous if Ana did not feel so entirely overwhelmed.
“Mrs. Thompson said you were ailing. How fares your stomach? Did you . . .” He motioned to the water closet.
She shook her head. “No, I feel mejor now I rest here. But I feel very tired.”
A maid ducked through the door behind Peter and placed a tray of food on the desk next to Ana’s bed. She then tutted about the room, fussing with the drapes and arranging the blankets at the foot of the bed.
Would Ana never be afforded a minute of privacy here? She almost laughed at the irony. She had never been one to long for isolation before. She sent a pleading look Peter’s way, who nodded and quietly dismissed the maid.
“How I live here, Peter? I no understand how to live así in England. Mi vida en Espana is so diferente.”
When Ana’s emotions were particularly strong, it became more taxing to express herself in English. Some things could be felt better in Spanish, it seemed.
“Are you unhappy with our decision?” Real concern creased Peter’s brow, and he approached, sitting on the edge of her bed.
“No. It is just difícil. So much change all today. All the people are so very nice to me, and you are so good to me, como siempre. But I feel . . .” She shook her head, pressing her hands into her temples.
Peter reached and squeezed her hand between his.
“I promise you will become accustomed to your way of life here. And I will always be by your side to make it easier in whatever way I can. I promise. We will experience this journey together. You remember, I have never been a husband or a father, so there is quite a great deal I will be learning as well. But I am your servant in whatever you may need.” He strode to the wooden door across the room.
“I am just through this door here if you need anything in the night, no matter the hour. And I believe you are already acquainted with the water closet . . .”
“Claro.”
“Well, good then.” He rubbed his hands together. “Please do try to eat at least a small portion of this food. It will do you good. I hope you rest well.”
“You too, Capi . . . Pedro.”
“Gracias. Oh, Ana?”
“Sí?”
“Cómo te amo!” he stated, raising a hand in a dramatic pose, like a great theatrical actor. His expression, which had been quite somber as of late, warmed into an endearing smile. Ana could not help but laugh at that, just as her heart started beating strange patterns in her chest.
Yes, she would be safe with him siempre. But would her heart?