Chapter 32 #2
Even if he could fly, Colin couldn’t be two places at the same time. What should he do? Please his father or pursue his own ambitions? Anne’s words echoed in his mind. What about the man you want to be?
So much had changed in such a short time. He sank back against the chair. What did he want? He wanted to be a good father to the girls, but, more importantly, he wanted to be a good husband to Anne. Any decision he made would affect his family, and he decided to discuss it with Anne.
“Sir? Will you be sending a response to His Majesty?”
Colin peered up at Greene, having forgotten he told the man to wait. “Not yet. I need to speak with my wife.”
Greene’s mouth twitched as if fighting a smile, and a gleam in the man’s eyes set Colin on edge. “What is it?”
“Nothing, sir.”
Colin didn’t believe it for a moment. Something was wrong.
He pushed back from his desk, past Greene, and strode from the room in search of his wife.
Hard at work dusting the bric-a-brac dotting the tables in the hallway, Mattie curtsied when he approached.
“Have you seen my wife?”
“No, your lordship. I’m sorry.”
Continuing his search, he poked his head into the music room. Empty.
Anne wasn’t much of a reader, complaining about the book Honoria had coerced her into reading.
What was the name of it? Ah, yes. Emma. Colin smiled to himself, thinking that when Anne described the titular character, she reminded him so much of Anne herself.
Nonetheless, he checked the library. The suit of armor stood guard in the empty room.
The unease he’d felt upon beginning his search increased as each servant he stopped seemed to have no idea where Anne had gone.
The tension in his neck from poring over his ledger moved into his shoulders and squeezed his chest painfully.
Not again! At least he knew all the entrances to the passages had been sealed. He’d checked them himself.
Anne seldom remained in her room after waking, but perhaps the pain in her ankle had flared up. He would check to see if she needed more willow bark for tea.
At the entrance to her bedroom, panic, cold and hard, froze him in place at the sight of trunks open on the bed and Joan neatly placing Anne’s clothes within.
“What is the meaning of this?!”
Joan jumped, the gown in her hands dropping in a heap into the open trunk. “My lord. I didn’t see you there.” The maid’s gaze darted between him and the cursed trunk. “My lady asked me to pack. She said she is returning to Kent.”
Christ! “Did she say why?” he asked, although he knew very well the reason. The damn stipulation Weatherby had insisted upon in the marriage contract. But was she truly that unhappy?
Not meeting his eyes, Joan fumbled with her answer. “I couldn’t say, my lord.”
“You very well will say. I demand that you tell me.” God, he truly was the tyrant and ogre Anne accused him of being.
“She thinks you don’t care, my lord.” Her eyes held an apology, but the truth of her words struck him like a blow to his chest.
He stumbled back, dizzy and disoriented. His perceived indifference was driving his wife away. In his quest to shield himself from his own feelings, he had ignored hers.
Without another word to the maid, he continued his search for Anne, but his purpose had changed. He would find her and tell her everything that was in his heart and beg her to give him another chance.
His pace quickened as he scoured each room frantically.
Seated at the front door, Alan rose to attention upon seeing him.
“Alan, my wife.”
The man didn’t bat an eye at the curt address. “She stepped outside with the young misses, sir.”
Of course. That explained the awful silence. He turned to rush outside, only then remembering his manners. “Thank you, Alan.”
Outside, he shielded his eyes from the bright, late-September sun, the heat searing his face and seeping through the fabric of his coat. A quick scan confirmed neither Anne nor his daughters were anywhere in sight, but his groundskeeper was weeding a flower bed at the front of the house.
Rupert straightened at his master’s approach, then pulled off his hat and wiped his brow. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
Colin nodded. “Have you seen my wife and daughters?”
Rupert pointed toward the right. “Yes, sir. They went in the direction of the graveyard.”
With a nod of thanks, Colin strode forward.
Growing closer, he heard the girls’ excited chatter.
Sheltered from the sun in the shade of a large oak, Cassie was fashioning a crown of wildflowers, and Ellie had her tongue sticking out, trying her best to copy her sister’s design.
One puppy jumped in an attempt to bite at the creation.
Another went in circles as it chased its tail.
The third curled up and slept by Cassie’s side.
Had Anne waited to break the news to them that she was leaving?
The sight of his daughters so happy lifted his hopes.
Perhaps there was still time to save them from heartache.
Careful not to worry the girls, he pushed down his fears and slipped effortlessly into a carefree facade. He kept his footsteps silent as he crept up on them.
Ellie screeched with laughter as he scooped her up and spun her around. “Papa! You frightened me!”
He grinned at her, the response coming naturally. “You don’t sound frightened.” After placing a kiss on her cheek, he set her down. “Where is Anne? Why isn’t she with you?” He did his damnedest to sound nonchalant.
“She wanted to be alone and asked us to wait here for a few minutes. She’s by the graveyard.” Cassie gave a little shudder.
“Are you fashioning a crown for Floppy?”
Ellie giggled. “Don’t be silly, Papa. Dogs don’t wear crowns.”
“Well, he might be tempted by such fine craftsmanship.”
Both girls erupted in giggles as he strode away toward the graveyard. Even in his worry about Anne, his lips twitched with a smile.
The smile faded as he neared the place where his current wife sat by the headstone bearing his first wife’s name. Of all places for Anne to be, why there?
Coward that he was, he’d avoided visiting Margery’s gravesite shortly after she’d died, instead instructing Rupert to make sure fresh flowers constantly adorned the small rectangular space.
Margery had weighed no more than six stone when she breathed her last, wasting away before his very eyes.
He’d been helpless to stop the ravaging disease that consumed her from the inside out, and the failure lay heavily upon his shoulders.
He stopped and leaned against a slender birch, careful not to make a sound.
Anne laid a vibrant bouquet of dahlias and bishop’s lace against Margery’s headstone. “I hope you like these, Margery. I don’t know your favorites. Rupert gave them to me for you.” Anne’s voice seemed tiny, distant—pensive. Sad. Not at all like his cheerful Faerie Sprite.
Her shoulders heaved, and Colin could almost hear her sigh. “I don’t know what to do, Margery. I know how much he loved you, and I can never take your place, but I wish you could tell me how to make him happy. Just a little.”
You do!
“You see, Margery, he’s so sad all the time. As grouchy as he can be—and I’m sure you remember that growl he does when something displeases him.” Anne’s finger traced one of the flower petals. “Although I find it rather sweet.”
The smile tugging his lips returned. Sweet?
“There is a part of him he hides. Do you remember? I saw it once when we were together at the folly. It’s like he’s afraid to let it out, and I don’t know why. But since then, he’s shut himself off from me, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Nothing. You did nothing wrong.
Prepared to go to her and confess all, he halted once again. How could he tell her and not make it sound like he only said it to keep her from leaving? There had to be a way.
“It’s silly, I know, Margery, but I wish just once someone would make goo-goo eyes at me the way Drake does Honoria. Is it wrong to want someone to love me so much they would do anything, even make a fool of themselves over it?”
Her words were so illuminating, Colin had a wonderfully ridiculous idea.
After a quick word to the girls to say nothing, Colin raced back inside the house.
He’d look like a fool, but he didn’t care.
If it made Anne smile, made her rethink leaving him, he would accept it, even embrace it.
Between Anne’s mention of goo-goo eyes and remembering how her description of the character in Emma reminded him of her, Colin vowed to give Anne her own knight.