Chapter Five
“Three more.” Hattie fastened the final few buttons on the back of Annie’s bodice and patted them lightly. “There, all done.” She moved around to the front, eyes visibly brimming as she regarded Annie. “Oh, my pet,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, “you quite steal my breath away.”
Annie turned to the mirror, her own breath catching at the sight of her reflection. “Goodness,” she said, with a slight shake of her head. “I do look rather…”
“Beautiful,” Hattie finished. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
Annie looked down at herself as if to verify the reality of her reflection. Made from fine Scottish muslin, embellished with cream lace and embroidered with tiny pink flowers, her gown was indeed exquisite. “It is splendid. Truly.”
Hattie huffed as if in agreement. “Indeed. But then, Estelle Gilbert is a wonderful modiste. One of the best in the city, in my opinion, if not the entire country.”
“She is certainly talented.”
“And a good-hearted soul besides.” Hattie heaved a sigh. “I swear I can hardly fathom it. My little Annabelle, a bride. It seems only yesterday you were in pinafores. Where have all the years gone?”
A lump came to Annie’s throat. “No matter where, they’ve been good years for the most part,” she said. “Please don’t become maudlin, Hattie. You’ll have me in tears, and I’m not sure Leo would appreciate his bride sporting red eyes and a nose to match.”
“Appreciate his bride?” Hattie harumphed. “I hope the wretched man knows just how fortunate he actually is. I confess to having some doubts.”
Annie gasped. “That is quite enough,” she said, ignoring an odd little flutter in her belly. “You force me to remind you of your place.”
Hattie huffed again. “Oh, I never forget my place, pet, but there are times when I must speak as I see it. The father was a good man, but something about the son bothers me. He’s not the lad I remember, and I suspect your father feels the same way.”
Another flutter arose in Annie’s belly as she recalled her father’s words from a fortnight ago, which seemed to support Hattie’s opinion. A whisper of doubt brushed across her mind, but she sloughed it off. Yes, Leo was assertive by nature, but he was a good man and sure to be a good husband.
Hattie sniffed and glanced briefly over her shoulder as if to verify their privacy. “I’m curious. Do you ever think of the other one?”
The question took Annie momentarily aback. She knew exactly who Hattie meant, but feigned ignorance. “The ‘other one’?”
The maid clucked her tongue. “Apparently you do. I can see it in your eyes.”
Was it that obvious? In truth, Annie had thought about Julian Northcott many times since that day.
Indeed, she remembered every detail of their short time together.
But the memory of him walking away was the one most often occupying her mind.
Without fail, the image would be accompanied by a feeling she’d been presented with an opportunity but had chosen to ignore it.
And, in doing so, she had made an irrevocable mistake.
None of which made any sense, for it had been such a brief encounter.
In truth, she knew practically nothing at all about Julian Northcott.
Even now, the same twinge of regret arose beneath Annie’s ribs, immediately followed by a spontaneous thrust of resentment.
“There are times, Hattie Henshaw,” she said, through gritted teeth, “when you truly overstep your bounds. This is one of those times. You do me a serious discourtesy to speak of such things on any day, but especially on this, my wedding day. It is one of the most important days of my life, yet you continue to voice your unwarranted opinions on my husband-to-be and actually have the audacity…” Annie drew a shaky breath, “the audacity to remind me of another, who never had, nor will ever have, a place in my life. I want you to be happy for me on this day and all the days to come. Is that asking too much?”
Hattie’s face had fallen during Annie’s rebuttal, and her hands now flew to her reddening cheeks.
“Oh, my dear child, you are quite correct. What was I thinking? Please forgive me! I swear my mouth is an entity unto itself at times. You are right to be angry. I should never have mentioned the gentleman at all. I never will again, not ever, I swear it.” Her voice wavered with obvious emotion.
“Your happiness is the most important thing to me, my lovely. The most important thing. Always has been. I want you to be happy in this marriage, truly I do. Believe me, I want it more than anything.”
Annie closed her eyes for a moment, reaching for a semblance of calm before giving Hattie the benefit of a forgiving smile. “I know you do,” she replied, taking in another slightly shaky breath as she turned back to regard her reflection. “And I will be happy. We will be happy.”
“Yes, yes, of course you will. Take no notice of me,” Hattie replied, her voice now edged with remorse. “Now, let’s get your veil sorted.” She set about arranging the floral garland and lace veil onto Annie’s head. “There,” she announced, stepping back. “The finishing-touch. Perfect. Just perfect.”
Annie straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and gave her reflection a final, critical inspection.
Though she did not consider herself vain, she silently admitted to being more than pleased with what she saw.
“Thank you, Hattie.” She glanced at the clock on her mantelpiece and pulled in a deep breath. “It’s almost time to leave.”
“Yes, indeed.” Hattie cleared her throat. “Um, do you have any more questions for this foolish old woman? About tonight, I mean?”
Annie shook her head as a faint blush warmed her cheeks. “No, thank you. I believe you’ve already explained things quite clearly.”
A couple of days earlier, Hattie had taken it upon herself to assume a maternal role, and had described, in simple detail, what occurred in the marriage bed and how the act was required in order to conceive a child.
Annie had feigned her ignorance and astonishment.
Only her blush had been genuine, prompted by a sense of guilt.
Being a physician, Annie’s father possessed an extensive scientific and medical library. As a child, Annie had little interest in it, but the approach to womanhood raised questions. In the absence of a mother, Annie had turned, covertly, to her father’s bookshelves in search of answers.
She had found them and more besides, including answers to questions she had never thought to ask.
The detailed anatomical drawings of men and women performing the sexual act had shocked her.
So much so, she had shoved the book back onto its shelf and left the room, silently swearing never to return.
The resolution lasted barely a day. Curiosity drove Annie back to the library and the book was pulled from the shelf once more.
Her initial shock rapidly evolved into a guilty fascination, which also left her with frustratingly unanswered questions.
The drawings were merely clinical descriptions and diagrams, emotionless and unfeeling.
Yet her own body’s reaction to them was unsettling; the soft pulse between her legs, the enhanced sensitivity of her breasts, and an underlying yearning for something she could not quite identify.
She also had a desire to touch herself intimately, but resisted the urge.
To capitulate to such a thing had to be wrong, somehow.
Unnatural. Harmful, even. Consequently, the book was once again returned to its place, where it had remained, undisturbed, for some time now.
“And you are not a foolish old woman, Hattie,” Annie continued, and then grinned. “Well, not old at least. Seriously, though, you have been as a mother to me, and I shall be forever grateful.”
Hattie sniffed, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, and scrubbed it over her nose.
“Your dear mother is watching over you always,” she said, “so I have no doubt she’ll be watching over you today.
Now, you’d best be off because I’m about to shed a bucketful of tears and would prefer to do so without an audience. I’ll see you at the church.”
*
Annie stood before the church of St. James and gazed up at the steeple, which pointed at gray skies.
So far, though, London’s rooftops had remained dry, and a pleasantly mild breeze wandered the city streets.
Not that Annie cared too much about the weather.
The day ahead surely promised a variety of other blessings.
Besides, the one she’d hoped and prayed for had already been granted.
She turned to him. “Ready, Papa?”
“I am, my dear,” he replied.
“And you’re sure you’re feeling quite well?”
“Well enough to walk my daughter down the aisle, I assure you.” He offered his elbow and then patted her hand as it settled on his forearm. “It will be one of the proudest moments of my life. Let’s go.”
Annie heaved a happy sigh, leaned in, and kissed his pale cheek. Yes, her prayers had been answered. Due to her father’s continued frailty, however, she had insisted on a quiet celebration. They had no immediate family to speak of anyway, only distant relations, rarely seen.