Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Graham
Try as I did to bury myself in work, I could feel her movements.
The sounds of Ginny’s harp and the clinking of their cups on saucers. A creaking of the floorboards above my head. My home—the halls, the drawing room, even somehow my study—now smelled all wrong, richly infused with the cherry blossoms and jasmine of the Lane household. In London, she avoided me with precise calculations. But, here, in my home, she was everywhere.
At my table. In the place of honor.
Anna unfolded her napkin and smoothed it upon her lap, frowning, then nodding politely at something Ginny said from across the table. Mama’s shoulders were tight with the weight of performing for a guest. From the head of the table, as the hostess, she motioned for Roland to bring out wine.
I felt like a fraud sitting at the other end, considering that every prior time we’d dined together, Anna had directed the course of the evening. In my family, Tabs joined us every night for an informal dinner. I smirked, thinking of the fit she must’ve thrown learning she’d be excluded tonight. Normally, Ginny would whine for a new dress or new ribbons, and Tabs would turn Mother green with stories of dissecting some odd creature she’d found washed up on the beach. We’d laugh too loud, not worrying if we dropped our napkins on the floor, and slouch in our seats as our stomachs filled.
I glanced over as Anna took a small sip of wine. Her keen eye took in the place settings, the tablecloth, even the servants, and she measured and weighed it all. No doubt judging my family for how we lived and what we lacked.
Intertwining my fingers, I watched her smile briefly, fleetingly to Mother. She was uncomfortable. It had to be strange, this shift of power in our dynamic, though I had to admit I enjoyed watching her writhe a little in discomfort. But this week, I needed her in good spirits.
“I am so happy to have you home again, Graham,” Mother said with a smile. “I do hope you can stay a while longer this time.”
“For how well you do without me, I scarcely believe I am needed,” I teased.
She raised her chin. “Needed is different than wanted. And you happen to be both.”
I looked down at my empty plate as Roland, Harriet, and Rebecca uncovered platters of food on the table. My mother’s words were nice to hear. I had almost fulfilled what was needed by my family. To be wanted by them was a privilege, an honor, that not everyone could claim of their relatives. I knew firsthand how painful that sort of rejection was. And I never wanted to feel it again.
I glanced over to find Anna’s gaze, which she promptly flicked away, lips pursed. This might be the hardest weeks’ worth of work I’d ever done. But it was time to get to it.
“Miss Lane,” I prompted, offering her a scoop of salted asparagus.
She raised a brow, and despite not having her expressed approval, I started to serve her. Asparagus, rice casserole with truffle and foie gras, sauteed potatoes with parsley—Cook had outdone herself.
“How do you find Brighton thus far?” I asked Anna.
“The few moments walking between the carriage and your house, Mr. Everett, are not enough to form an opinion on the whole. Your home, however, is lovely. I suppose I have your mother to thank for the generous welcome and more than adequate accommodations.”
My mother beamed.
“And your dear sister for her beautiful musical display.”
Ginny shrugged at Anna but grinned proudly at me.
“Of my first day, I shall write a good report to my father,” Anna said.
I finished her plate with a slab of soft, flakey cod and a spoonful of sauce.
Polite. Compassionate. Content? Who the devil was this woman?
I took a cautious bite of fish. What was I missing? Had she already laid a snare to trap me in my own home? I’d have to sleep with my eyes open. I’d tread carefully. Slowly.
“I am glad to hear it,” I said, watching her. Her gaze was as straight and unreadable as ever. Even though this was my house, my table, she knew she held power here. I knew it too. I took a deep breath before trying my luck. “Miss Lane, I would love to take you for a tour of the town tomorrow, if you are willing.”
She smiled, slowly chewing her bite, swallowed, then said, “Forgive me, but that sounds dreadfully boring.”
Ah. There she was.
Ginny bristled, back straight. “Brighton is anything but dull.”
I gave her a warning look. She’d have to simmer her temper; it would do us no good to rise to Anna’s verbal sparring.
If she didn’t want a tour, then devil take it, what did she want? I turned my attention to my plate, finishing my fish and vegetables in a few swooping bites.
“Graham tells us you used to travel to Lyme with your father?” Mother graciously broke the silence.
“They are some of my fondest memories,” Anna replied. She touched her lips with her napkin.
“Then you must be fond of the sea.”
“Very much.”
Mother gave me a pointed stare. As though she’d parted the seas and now it was my turn to walk through.
I drew in a long breath through my nose, then gave Anna my most charming smile.“There must be something you’re interested in seeing here in Brighton, Miss Lane.”
She took a slow drink of wine. “I rather like the view outside my window.”
Frustration simmered in my chest, and I gritted my teeth, somehow still managing to hold my smile. We only had this week, and she wasn’t even going to make an effort.
I tried again. “As I said earlier, the Steine is a popular social spot. I can introduce you to our local society there, as well as make new connections with the tourists.” And I could show her how thriving our little town had become. The market, the lending library, the bustling seaside would all be steps away. All overlooked by the Marine Pavilion, which, if nothing else, should impress Anna.
“I am from London, Mr. Everett. I do not travel to socialize. I travel to be free of Society.” She set down her fork, as though to punctuate her standing.
“Others certainly do. Surely you wish to make an informed decision for your father’s investment for the whole of his investors. Not just those like yourself.”
She blinked, then slowly met my gaze. Her lips parted as she huffed out an exhausted puff of air. “Not tomorrow. The next day perhaps. Tomorrow ...” She mused, looking blankly down at the table. She took in a breath, a faraway look in her eyes that relaxed her features. She was lovely when her countenance softened. Then, gently, but determined, she said, “Tomorrow, I should like to take a walk on the beach.”
Mother dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Would you like to sea bathe?”
“Heavens, no.” Anna laughed. “The water must be frigid.”
“That is the point. It’s exhilarating,” Ginny argued defensively.
“In Lyme, we dipped our feet in, and that sufficed.” Anna took another lazy drink.
“A walk it is, then,” I said, determined. I would find the best view. Something private, secluded. Superior to Lyme in every way, so that the only things she’d have to write about in her little notebook were positive.
Dessert came and went, with talk of the comings and goings of Brighton tourists. Anna listened politely, commenting on a few names she recognized from London. By the end of dinner, it did not seem so strange to have her at my table. She spoke mostly to Mother and Ginny, only giving me a rare word now and again.
At long last, Mother rose. “You must be exhausted, Miss Lane. Might we get you more comfortable?”
“Thank you,” Anna said with a little sigh. “I do have a bit of writing to do before I retire. Thank you again, Mrs. Everett. Miss Everett. Mr. Everett.” She clipped my name, as per usual, and I could’ve sworn she smirked at me.
“Good night, Miss Lane,” I muttered, settling back in my seat, eager for the larger than normal glass of port I’d have upon their departure.
I looked up to catch a swoosh of her green silk skirts as she walked out the door.
Decidedly, finally, blessedly alone.