Chapter 14 #2
“Ah, then one will learn very, very unusual things.”
“I guess one will.”
“Well, I take it as a fair sign you are collecting furniture, that you and your family intend to stay. For a while?”
Billy could only look at her, tongue-tied.
***
Inside the assembly rooms, Annabel stood at the near end of the ballroom, now back to its original state but for the addition of a painted alphabet banner strung across the room.
Its robin’s-egg walls and polished wood floor glowed in the dappled morning light.
Seeing it now, as it was, in real time, made her shudder with wonder.
“Oh my,” she said, loosening the ribbon tied under her chin to take off her hat.
“Miss Blake?”
Annabel turned to the voice behind her, but she knew it already. “Mr. D’Evercy!”
He stood, hat in hand, handsome as ever, a subtle bow of his head to greet her. To see him there, not pretending to be D’Evercy, but being D’Evercy, took her breath away. The room started to spin.
“Are you all right, Miss Blake?”
Feeling her color draining away, and clammy, she put a hand to her cheek, her neck.
“Miss Blake?”
Annabel let her hat slip from her hand as she swayed, her knees buckling.
But before she could hit the floor, D’Evercy dropped his own hat and swept her into his arms. He found a settee pushed against the wall, where he laid her down gently.
He took off his coat, rolled it up, knelt beside her, and placed it under her head.
When she opened her eyes, his face was floating over her like a vision coming into soft focus.
“There you are,” he said.
Still hazy, she reached her hand slowly to his face, letting two fingers alight on the place where his strong jaw met his smooth, burnished cheek.
“Look at you,” she said. “How real you are.”
He seemed moved by the gentle honesty of her touch. “I have labored under that delusion for some time. And would be dreadfully disappointed if you thought otherwise.”
“I did think otherwise . . . but now, I don’t think that anymore.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“How could you?”
His apparent puzzlement aside, he wasn’t the sort to pry. “In any case, your color’s coming back. That’s a good sign. You looked terribly pale there for a moment. And then wobbled, indeed.”
Annabel covered her face with her hands. “I fainted. How embarrassing.” She pushed herself to sitting and looked at him earnestly. “I assure you, I’m not the swooning type.”
“Again, noted,” he said, sitting beside her. “But we all wobble sometimes.”
Annabel had to look away. The cleft in his chin, the single lock of hair that fell naturally on his forehead, the intensity of his gaze—they were almost too much.
“It would be hard to convey the effect of being here . . .” She looked out over the beautiful ballroom, then at him. “And you being here . . . in this world.”
“True, I don’t make a habit of visiting assembly rooms of a Monday morning. In fact, I visit as little as possible, as you know. But I saw you come in and thought to say hello.”
“I wanted to see it, in the light of day. It’s every bit as lovely as I remembered.”
He followed her gaze, landing on the alphabet banner strung across. “Ah, yes. We’ve a dance master, I’m told, teaching the children basic steps and social graces. A bold experiment, I should say, or foolish.”
“Why foolish?
“Shouldn’t one learn, as I did, by the usual missteps and mortifications? In my experience, it is only necessity which is the mother of dancing.”
She laughed lightly, grateful for the way he put her at ease—no small thing under the circumstances—practically daring her to tease him.
“But you said you wished to be a modern man.”
He smiled, with crinkling eyes. “Ah, using my own words against me. A clever business, that is. I should be more careful of you.”
“Please, don’t be,” she said, surprised by her own forwardness.
He regarded her with a thoughtful sigh. “I do wonder sometimes who I’d be if I did not hold a bit of pain and suffering through life in such high regard, as we English do. Learning to dance without humiliation? What moral lesson would be learned by that?”
“No lesson at all. Just the joy of it.”
“The joy of it, hmm.”
“Like you and Fanny—she told me last night—growing up with muddied hems and jam smeared on your faces.”
“Yes. All true. But drummed out of us at the nearest opportunity. Joy banished.” He looked at her with a wistful smile. “But perhaps a certain sense of possibility with it.”
“The possibility of what?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps a larger view of the world, of what’s possible in it.”
“I like that . . .” Annabel was lost in his eyes, as he was in hers.
Side by side on the settee, they found a natural lull in the conversation, where simply looking at each other was daring enough.
“Annabel!” Cassie called from the entrance, arms crossed.
D’Evercy stood, gentleman that he was. “Miss Blake. A pleasure to see you again.”
Cassie took in their slight disarray, the fallen hats. She fake-smiled and found her southern drawl, if not quite as committed as before. “Pleasure,” she said tautly.
Annabel stood and straightened her skirts. “I’m so sorry, Cassie.”
“We said five minutes.”
“I know.” Annabel felt her hair to see if it was askew.
Cassie plucked a hat from the floor. “Mr. D’Evercy. Is this yours?”
He stepped forward and retrieved it. “Thank you, Miss Blake. I must have dropped it.”
“Oh, look,” said Cassie, picking up her sister’s bonnet and swinging it by its ribbons. “And you dropped yours, dear sister.” She looked from one to the other with an accusing glare. “You two must’ve been in quite the hurry.”
“Miss Blake, I was only trying to help—”
“I fainted,” said Annabel, rescuing him.
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Fainted. Seriously?”
“But you’re right. I did lose track of the time.”
“Well, let’s just say time is of the essence, shall we?” Cassie’s lips thinned when she was mad.
“I’m quite certain it was my fault,” said D’Evercy, intervening on Annabel’s behalf. “I found myself distracted by a conversation about . . . dancing.”
Annabel gave D’Evercy a glancing smile; she couldn’t help it.
“Hel-lo!” said Cassie, trying to regain her attention. “I’m afraid my sister and I need to have a conversation about a desk. A writing desk, to be exact. To write letters on. It’s our number one goal for the day, and we can’t afford to be distracted.”
“Of course. My apologies.” He was a balance of courtesy and reserved warmth. “But if I can be of any assistance . . .”
“We’ll let you know. Come along, Annabel.”
Annabel walked close enough to Cassie to retrieve her bonnet but turned to D’Evercy.
She wanted to say so much more than she could: that she’d never felt desire like this in her life; even things she thought might be desire, she knew now to be false imitations.
This yearning touched the essence of who she was, awakened every atom inside her.
For the first time in her life, words would hardly suffice.
“Thank you, Mr. D’Evercy. You’ve been so kind.”
Cassie threaded her arm through Annabel’s and steered her away when D’Evercy called after them.
“Ladies?”
They turned.
“I completely forgot to mention . . . Fanny, that is, Miss Gidding-Wedmore, is giving a dinner later this week.”
“A dinner?” said Annabel, eyes bright.
“I’m afraid, in honor of my return to Wakefield. On Saturday, I believe. And she would be heartbroken should you—both Misses Blake, of course—refuse. And your cousin, Mr. Doofus.”
Cassie tightened her hold on Annabel’s arm. “Oh, with any luck, we’ll be long gone by then!”
“Gone?” said D’Evercy. “I took it that you planned to be at Kidlington for the summer.”
“Well, plans change, don’t they?”
“Of course,” he said, masking his disappointment. “I suppose I admire your flexibility, and spontaneity. You Americans.”
“I admire it too,” said Cassie.
Annabel looked between them, torn.
“Well, should your plans change, do not stand on ceremony.” D’Evercy bowed his head. “Good day, Miss Blake,” he said to Cassie, then turned his gaze to Annabel. “Goodbye, Miss Blake.”
Annabel realized, in that moment, that if they found the desk they were looking for, she might never see him again. She freed herself from Cassie, took one step toward him, and spoke slowly, emphasizing every word, with her hand on her heart.
“If I’m not there, Mr. D’Evercy, at the dinner in your honor . . . please know that I wanted to be, as much as I’ve wanted anything. Ever. Will you please? Know that?”
D’Evercy look at Annabel, stunned by her depth of feeling.
“Um, hel-lo!” Cassie was out of patience.
Finally, Annabel turned back to her sister and left D’Evercy standing there, confounded.
***
“I can’t believe you!” Cassie broke her frustrated silence as soon as they crossed to the high street.
“What?”
“I catch you two in there, like, making out? While I’m stuck out here, losing my mind?”
“We weren’t making out! He followed me in, just to say hello, and when I saw him, I fainted.”
“Nice move.”
“I genuinely fainted, Cassie. I’m overwhelmed too.”
“But not in the bad way. I get it now. You don’t want to go back!”
“I wouldn’t say that. Exactly.”
Cassie stopped and crossed her arms. “What, exactly, would you say?”
Annabel stopped, too, thinking how to explain. She looked out at the lovely town. “I guess I’d say I’m charmed—”
“Rhetorical question!” Cassie was verging on panic, louder than she meant to be.
Annabel put a calming hand on her sister’s forearm and glanced about guardedly to make sure no one was listening. “I really am sorry, Cassie. I’m not sure what to say.”