Twelve #3
Anna closed her eyes for one moment. The powder. The barrels. The danger moving quietly through the harbor, hidden beneath ordinary words and ordinary markings. Gone now or at least removed from British hands.
Relief came again, heavy as before, but this time threaded with something brighter. “They did it,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Mrs. Pembroke said. “They did.”
Anna opened her eyes. “Is he safe?”
Mrs. Pembroke’s expression shifted. Not enough to alarm most people. Enough to alarm Anna.
“He is alive.”
Anna let to an impatient sigh. “That is not the same thing.”
“No, dear. It is not.” Mrs. Pembroke took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the nearest chair. “Sit before you fall into something inconvenient.”
Anna fought an eye roll. “I’m not going to fall.”
“You’re pale, stubborn, and in love. The odds are not in your favor.”
Anna sat then realized what Mrs. Pembroke had said. “I’m not in love.”
Mrs. Pembroke gave her a pitying look. “Oh, child.”
Anna’s cheeks warmed. “I barely know him.”
Mrs. Pembroke arched an eyebrow at her. “People say that as if hearts keep ledgers.”
“He deceived me,” she shot back.
“He deceived half the British command in Setauket. You mustn’t take it personally.”
Anna looked at the note again. The last line blurred, then cleared.
I remain, unfortunately, tragically flawed.
A laugh escaped her. It broke through the tightness in her throat and nearly turned into a sob. She pressed a hand to her mouth.
Mrs. Pembroke patted her shoulder once. “There now. That is quite enough emotion before luncheon.”
Anna lowered her hand. “Will he come back?”
“Yes.”
Anna froze. “What?”
“You heard me. He will come back.”
Anna gaped at her. “When?”
Mrs. Pembroke smiled. “This evening.”
Anna stood so quickly the chair scraped across the floor. “This evening?”
“Do try not to look as though I’ve announced the arrival of an angel.”
Anna stared at her. “How do you know?”
She gave Anna a light shrug. “Because I arranged it.”
Of course she had. Anna could only stare.
Mrs. Pembroke looked her over. “You will wear your blue ribbon. The plain one, not the one Mercy thinks is plain but has entirely too much personality.”
“My… my blue ribbon?”
She gave Anna a curt nod. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you look well in blue, and because I said so.”
Anna pressed a hand to her middle. “Mrs. Pembroke…”
“There you are, saying my name like a confession again.”
Anna gaped at her again. “What is happening this evening?”
Mrs. Pembroke looked toward the window, where the empty laundry line stirred in the breeze. For once, there was no sharpness in her expression. Only purpose. “Something ordinary, yet sacred.” She turned to her. “Something that must remain secret for a time.”
Anna’s breath caught. The room seemed to still around her.
Mrs. Pembroke looked back at her. “Mr. Reed has asked for you properly, though circumstances have made proper things rather difficult. He has also asked a reverend to come by the garden gate after sundown. Caleb Avery will stand as witness, and so shall I.”
Anna’s lips parted, but no words came.
Mrs. Pembroke’s voice softened. “But only if you wish it, dear.”
Anna looked down at the note in her hand. The words blurred again. A secret wedding! Not someday. Not when the war was done or when danger grew polite enough to step aside.
Now. Her heart pounded so hard it frightened her. “But the war…”
“Yes, what about it?” Mrs. Pembroke asked as if bored.
Anna’s eyes widened. “And Major Ellis… and, and… if anyone learns I’m his wife, they could use me against him.”
“Which is why no one shall learn,” Mrs. Pembroke stated calmly.
Anna looked at her. “But a marriage must be recorded.”
Mrs. Pembroke smiled. “It will be witnessed before God and before two people of sound mind, and kept safe until the day it may be spoken aloud.” Mrs. Pembroke’s mouth thinned. “The law may have its paper in due course. Heaven, I daresay, can manage the rest.”
Anna’s eyes filled with tears.
Mrs. Pembroke gave her a tender look. “You need not marry him because there is danger or even because he asks or that I’ve arranged anything. Though I do hate wasting arrangements.”
A laugh slipped from Anna and her shoulders shook with it.
Mrs. Pembroke took both her hands. “You marry him only if you choose him.”
Anna closed her hands around Mrs. Pembroke’s. Men died while waiting for peace to make room for happiness. Women waited beside windows until hope wore thin. The world offered no safe hour. No perfect season. No promise that tomorrow would be kinder than today.
Anna thought of Nathaniel in the parlor, standing calm beneath suspicion.
She thought of him in the lane, hurting her to save her.
And at the garden door, asking permission for a future he might never be allowed to claim.
She thought of the locket, sentimental enough to hide danger, important enough to carry truth.
She drew one careful breath. “I choose him.”
Mrs. Pembroke smiled. It was small. Almost secret. “Good,” she said. “Then wash your face. You look like a girl who’s been crying over furniture.”