“It cannot have escaped your attention, Miss Tyler, that I admire you most ardently. Indeed, I think you are the most splendid creature ever put on the earth. I am never happier than when I am in your company.”
Anne felt her ease evaporate. Her alarm grew as he leaned toward her, his faces inches from her own.
“I do not wish to press you for an answer, yet I beg you to consider this a declaration of my fervent admiration and my desire to marry you. You will never want for anything if you consent to become my wife.”
Anne drew back. “Mr. Fletcher, we have known each other only a short time and we know so little about one another. You are correct in assuming that I cannot give you an answer right away.”
“I understand. Naturally, you are nervous regarding marriage. Tell me, what can I do to win you over?”
“Give me time, time to think and time to know you better.”
He released her hand as he sat back in his seat. “A reasonable request. You may take as long as you like, for I am sure that we are meant to be together and that, in time, you will agree.”
Though she could not object to his words, there was an impatient edge to his tone that disturbed her. Was it only that he was a spoiled only son who was used to getting what he wanted? If so, he would find that she cared little about his tempers. She had determined to marry only and if she found a man whom she loved without reserve, a man to whom she could trust her entire heart.
Troy kept to his promise not to press her. They spoke only of the ball and the people who had attended. He asked so many questions about everyone from Mariah to Lord Westerfield that Anne felt exhausted by the time she reached home.
They clattered up the cobbled drive to see the warm glow of twin lanterns beckoning beside the solid oak door. Troy handed her from the carriage and pressed a kiss upon her gloved palm.
“Will you think about what I have said, my dear Miss Tyler?”
“I promise that I shall consider your proposal.”
“Then I will take my leave with a heart full of hope and wonderful memories of the evening.”
He bowed and released her hand.
Feeling as though she were escaping, she scurried to the door, which Arthur, the butler, held open. He took her wrap. As he shut the door behind her, she heard the sound of the carriage pulling away. She climbed the stairs and retreated to her chamber where Polly helped her prepare for bed. She climbed into the crisp, white, lavender scented sheets and began to dream.
Just a bit later when the household had settled to sleep, a man, clad in dark trousers and shirt, crept to the rear entrance of the kitchen door, stopped and peered into the darkness. A young serving woman emerged from the shadow of the doorway and hurried to meet him. In whispered tones she said, “I have been waiting.”
“Did anyone see you leave your quarters?”
“Not a soul.”
The girl pulled her shawl about her as the man hurried her from the back of the house and across the cobblestone drive. He sent a wary glance at the darkened windows that stared down from the stone-cut Georgian home. It would be disaster for him if anyone should see him. Yet, he took comfort from the quiet stillness from which no one stirred.
He grasped the girl by the arm and said, “The carriage is just beyond the line of trees. We can take a drive toward the village.”
He fairly tossed the girl into the carriage before climbing in beside her. He waited until the driver turned his attention to the horses to whisper, “The old man, how is he?”
The girl grinned. There was just enough moonlight to display her prominent buck teeth. “He is nearly done for, another day at the most, and he will be dead.”
“You have done your job well and will get everything you deserve.”
The girl wriggled on the seat. “Oh, I shall be happy when we can be together. And I shall have fine things to wear. And perhaps we may have a carriage of our own.”
The man tried to hide his distaste for the creature. Eager as he was to dispose of her, he knew he must be patient. He patted her hand and said, “It will not be long now until you get your reward for helping me. And all for seeing that a bit of arsenic found its way into an old man’s soup.”
They reached a small forest of sorts that lay mid-way from the village. The man instructed the driver to halt. “Could you stop for a bit? It is a lovely night and I fancy a walk among the trees.”
The girl hesitated. “We are having a lovely ride.”
He took her hand. “But not as romantic as a walk alone through the forest. I fancy having you all to myself.”
At that, she giggled and allowed him to help her from the carriage.
The driver lit his pipe and settled himself for a bit of rest. It mattered not to him how long they dallied. He was being paid for the use of his conveyance.
After a bit, the man returned alone and said, “We had a bit of a spat. As she does not wish my company, my companion is determined to walk back.”
The driver shrugged as the man settled himself in the carriage. He had paid little attention to either of them. It was no matter to him what they did as long as he was paid.
The next morning, Cook looked about and scowled before asking the scullery maid, “Where is Mary? She is not still abed?”
“I do not know where she is, ma’m. She was gone from her bed when I got up.”
“Stupid girl. Go and look for her again. And if you find her, tell her I shall box her ears.”
“Yes, ma’m.”
The girl returned and reported no sign of Mary.
Cook shook her several voluminous chins and said, “Probably ran off during the night with some bloke from the village. Well, good riddance I say of her, going off with no notice. Divide up her things and forget she was ever here.”
“Yes, ma’m.”
Instead of forgetting about Mary, Cook spent the morning grumbling about the inconvenience of being short-handed. Poor Lucy, the scullery maid, had to carry her share of the work as well as Mary’s and with no thanks from Cook, who was as short-tempered with her as if the whole thing were her fault.
When Betsy returned from taking up the old master’s breakfast gruel, she reported that he was very ill indeed. “He ate nothing at all and his color is all wrong. He is blue around the lips and very cold. Miss Anne is sitting with him. She told me not to wake the young master yet.”
Cook shook her head. “He is old and frail. We have all seen this coming.”
“None the less, he is a good-tempered master and I shall miss him,” said Betsy.
Anne spent the morning holding her grandfather’s hand and coaxing him to sip at his tea. In the few moments that he awoke, he was possessed of such delirium that he did not seem to recognize her.
Just after noon, when his breathing became very shallow, she rang for Betsy. “Summon Master Jeremy from his studies. I fear the end is very near.”
Jeremy came pale-faced into the room. “Is Grandfather going to die?”
Anne pulled him near her on the large cushioned chair. “I am afraid so, dear. He is old and very sick.”
Jeremy wiped away tears. “I do not want him to die.”
“I know. But Grandfather would wish for us to be brave, and we must do as he would wish.”
“I will try, though it is very hard.”
Anne put her arm around her brother. “I know, dear. It is hard for me, too.”
They sat watch until early afternoon, when the elderly gentleman breathed his last. Anne held Jeremy as he lost his valiant struggle not to weep. Anne wiped at her own tears as the household was gripped by mourning for the kindly man who had overseen his grandchildren and servants with compassion.
The vicar arrived to speak words of comfort, yet Anne could feel only a cold numbness spreading through her heart. Why must those she loved be taken from her? It did not seem fair. And now Jeremy was all she had left. In her distress, she held on to him so tightly that he squirmed away and knelt beside his grandfather to weep.
“Your grandfather has a nephew over in London, does he not?” the vicar asked.
Anne vaguely remembered that Grandfather had a nephew she had never met. “I believe he does.”
“Would you like for me to take care of notifying him?”
“Yes. That would be very kind. Thank you.”
They had the burial two days later at two o’clock in the afternoon. A wide assortment of folk gathered in the churchyard to see Mr. Tyler lowered into the ground. Tears flowed freely from men and women, gentry and tenants. Anne wept with a brokenness of heart that she had not felt since the death of her parents. They were alone again, she and Jeremy, and this time they had no loving grandfather waiting to take them in. It frightened her to know that Jeremy’s welfare, as well as her own, lay completely in her hands. She was aware that Grandfather’s nephew, if still alive, would become guardian of the estate until Jeremy came of age. It would be years before Jeremy would take control of the manor. In the meantime, Anne could be thrown out to live on the pension Grandfather provided in his will. It was a frightening proposition at best.
At the end of the service, she felt someone place a hand beneath her elbow. She looked up into Lord Westerfield’s shockingly dark eyes that were softened by sympathy. He gazed down at her. “On behalf of myself and my father, who could not come today, allow me to express our deepest condolences. Your grandfather was a friend to us for many years.”
She wiped her eyes on her lace handkerchief and said, “I thank you for your kind words. Grandfather held you both in high regard.”
Lord Westerfield shook his head. “He will be missed by all of us.”
“Indeed he will.”
“Is there anything that I may do for you?”
“No. The vicar has been very kind to us and Grandfather has a solicitor in the village who will handle his affairs. But I thank you for asking.”
He bowed. “Please do not hesitate to call on me if there is any way I may assist you.”
When he departed, she felt chilled, as though a shadow had moved across the sun, leaving her more bereft than ever. She shivered and wondered at her strange reaction. Young Lord Westerfield had an odd effect on her, though why it was so, she did not know. She knew only that she had never felt so intensely aware of the presence of any other man.
She had little time to dwell on it before the vicar ushered them to the carriage that was waiting to carry them home. Jeremy, who had spoken little for the last two days, asked Anne, “What is to become of us?”
“We will find that out after the vicar notifies Grandfather’s nephew. The will states that the property shall pass to ‘the heir of his body’. That is you. Yet, I believe his nephew will be your guardian. He will decide whether I may remain in the house. And if I do not, do not worry, Grandfather has provided for me in his will.”
She tried to smile and found it so impossible that she gave up and stared at the passing countryside. She remembered how frightened they both had been five years ago when they had first set eyes on this road. They had not known what to expect until they arrived at Grandfather’s house and found that it was lovely and that life was pleasant there.
She tore her thoughts away from the past because the past would not count now. If only she knew more about grandfather’s nephew, what sort of man he might be, it might ease her mind. But having no such knowledge, all she could do was wait and hope for his indulgence to let her remain at the estate. For she could not bear to think of Jeremy being reared in the care of a stranger.
The next few days saw a steady stream of callers. Though propriety required her to accept these condolences, she found them a strain on her nerves. Worst of all was the afternoon when Mr. Fletcher came to pay his respects.
“I have been away and only just heard about your grandfather. I have come to extend my deepest sympathy. I know you must miss him.”
“I do.”
“I suppose young master Jeremy will inherit.’
Anne nodded. “Grandfather has a nephew who will become his guardian. I expect to hear from him soon. My hope is that he will allow me to stay on.”
Troy cocked his brow. “And if you do not?”
Anne shrugged. “Grandfather has left me a pension.”
“Still, it would be hard for a young woman to set up house alone. Perhaps the timing is not best to say this, but still I must. You know it is my ardent desire for us to marry. If you will consent, you will not have to worry about your relative’s wishes. I will provide a home for you.”
Anne knew she should feel grateful for the offer, yet she could not. If she should choose to wed, she wanted it to be a joyous occasion. Now, mourning Grandfather as she did, could not summon the faintest interest in marriage.
“I am sorry, Mr. Fletcher. You are kind to offer, but I am still too heart-sore to make a decision.”
“Then I shall give you more time. But I do urge you to consider my proposal. I would hate to see you cast alone into society.”
Anne felt a bit annoyed by his persistence. “Do you not think it better to be alone than to make the wrong decision regarding marriage?”
A brief flash of impatience showed on his face before he composed himself to say, “Of course. Yet I am convinced that we would not be making the wrong decision.”
Anne was tiring of the conversation. The high collar on her black mourning dress was hot and itchy. She longed to go to her room, slip out of the dress and crawl under her cool sheets. But first, she must get rid of her guest.
“Your confidence does you justice. When, and if, I share your assurance, I shall give you my answer,” she promised.
She stirred, planning to rise and put an end to the interview.
He stood and grasped her by the arms, pulling her up to face him.
“In all the time I have escorted you about the village, I have found no fault with you. I hope you will form a similar opinion of me. I shall leave you now with these words.”
He pulled her so close that her unease turned to alarm.
“You are dear to me, my darling Miss Tyler, so very dear. If you should need me, just send word to the inn.”
She struggled a bit to pull free, fearing he would try to kiss her.
“Please, you are hurting my arms.”
“I am sorry.”
He released her and she stepped away.
“Good day, Mr. Fletcher. And thank you for calling.”
After he bid her good-bye, Arthur handed him his hat at the door. Anne sighed with relief when she heard it click closed behind him. She mounted the stairs and stopped at Jeremy’s room. She found him on the floor, pouring despondently over his atlas. Kneeling down beside him, she said, “You miss Grandfather and the games you played together.”
Jeremy nodded. “He was my best friend.”
Anne put her arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. “Mine, too, dear. We shall have to give ourselves time to get over our loss.”
“What is going to happen to us?”
“I do not know, yet. But as long as we are together, we will be fine.”
Jeremy smiled bravely up at her. “You are my best friend now, Anne.”
She squeezed him gently. “And you are mine.”
She went to her room and fell gratefully into bed for an afternoon rest. Before she fell asleep, she thought over Troy’s visit. Though he had been quite solicitous in saying she need only send a message to him if she needed him, she had not felt inclined to accept his offer.
Who else had offered her help? She thought back to the funeral. It was the handsome Lord Westerfield with his pirate-black eyes. Why did she find his invitation so inviting when she had not felt the same about Mr. Fletcher. It was not because Lord Westerfield would inherit an estate. She cared little for social position.
No, it was the disposition of each man. Lord Westerfield intrigued her while Troy made her uneasy. This realization led her to the conclusion that she could not accept this proposal from Troy only because it
came at a needful time in her life.
She could not marry him unless she were to be convinced beyond a shadow of doubt that their love would be deep and enduring, the kind of love her parents shared before their death from tropical fever.
She fell asleep with these doubts plaguing her mind and with the dark eyes of a pirate haunting her dreams.
She awoke to see the long shadows of late afternoon creeping across the red roses that bloomed in her plush rug. She tossed back the white coverlet on her bed and crossed the room to peer out of her window into the back gardens of the house. The gardener was whistling as he trimmed the hedges, the kitchen girl was collecting herbs for supper stew from the small square garden.
Everything was returning to normal. Soon the household would have a new member. Eventually, Grandfather’s memory would fade. But not from Anne and not from Jeremy. Of this, she was sure.
The next morning Anne awoke unable to stand the thought of another day closeted morosely in the house. She donned her black silk mourning gown and went down for a light breakfast, after which she told Arthur, “Tell John Coachman to have the carriage brought round. I wish to visit Miss Sawyer.”
“Yes, Miss.”
She finished her toiletry and donned her hat and gloves.
She left Jeremy in the charge of his tutor, Mr. Ames. Then, in the glorious sunshine of a summer morning, she found the carriage awaiting her departure. The young man who drove her was new, having been just hired by the ‘ostler and she was obliged to give him directions to Mariah’s house.
When they arrived, he helped her down and settled on his seat to wait.
Anne wound her way past the flowers that lined the drive and presented herself at the door. She was well-known to the staff and was immediately invited to the parlor to await Miss Sawyer.
After a few moments Mariah came down. She greeted Anne with an enthusiastic smile. “What impeccable timing you have. I have just dressed and was ready to come down. Will you not have tea with me?”
“I would love tea.”
Mariah ordered tea and cakes. While they waited, Mariah asked, “How have you been? I planned to call on you this week and see how you have fared since the funeral.”
“I must admit to a lowness of spirit. Jeremy and I have grown very close to Grandfather in the last five years. We will miss him sorely.”
“What is to happen to you and Jeremy?”
“I do not know. Grandfather has a nephew that is named guardian until Jeremy comes of age. Perhaps he will let me stay on at the estate.”
“Oh, he must. I could not bear to have you go away. And where would you go?”
“I would live on the funds that Grandfather left me. Perhaps I could take a small house and live frugally with a servant or two.”
Mariah stomped her small foot. “That must not happen. I shall speak to your Grandfather’s nephew on your behalf if he proves ungenerous.”
Anne laughed at her friend, “And what will you say?”
Mariah looked perplexed. “I do not know exactly. I will appeal to his best instincts.”
She brightened and added, “Perhaps I shall marry him and become mistress of your estate. Then, I should persuade him to let you stay on.”
“I am sure he is quite old, fifty at least.”
“La, I did not think of that. Then I shall not marry him.”
She grinned mischievously, “Unless of course I fall in love.”
She studied Anne. “And what of you? You have been privileged to the steady attentions of Mr. Fletcher for the last two months. You should have seen him when you were dancing with Lord Westerfield. He was quite beside himself with envy.”
“Was he? I did not notice.”
“It is no wonder. You did not notice because you were dancing with Lord Westerfield. Is he not the most handsome of men? Of course, Mr. Fletcher is handsome, too.”
“That he is. And yet, there is something about him that gives me pause. There is a disturbing inconsistency of manner and in the things he says.”
“La, you worry too much. He seems a perfectly charming gentleman to me.”
“Perhaps you are right. Still, he has been pressing me for an answer to his proposal of matrimony. He offered to provide a home for me. And yet, I do not know that I love him.”
“Is that so important?”
“It is to me.”
Their tray arrived and Mariah occupied herself with a small cake to go along with her tea. She seemed to be deep in thought until at last she said, “I am not so sure that love is necessary for a successful marriage. I believe that I could be quite satisfied with many a handsome man who possessed a pleasant disposition.”
Anne’s silken brow wrinkled into a frown. “I do not feel the same. I want a man who cares only for me and I for him. I could only look forward to marriage if it was preceded by the deepest romantic affection.”
Mariah shook her head. “I wish you luck in finding such romance. For my part, I am not sure that it exists.”
“If it does not, I shall not marry at all.”
Anne took a bite of teacake and made up her mind that, without a change of heart, marriage to Mr. Fletcher was out of the question. She remembered her alarm when she thought he might kiss her. Would she not have welcomed his kiss if she were truly in love? But then, how could she know since she had never been in love.
She puzzled over the matter as they finished tea.
At last, Mariah suggested a walk in the garden. Anne agreed quickly, hoping the fresh air might clear her mind. She followed Mariah to the French doors which opened out to a row of rosebushes in full bloom. Next to the house, hollyhocks grew on tall stalks, presenting their frilled flowers to the sun. Sweet William, sweet peas and asters bloomed along the ground, scenting the air with a myriad of fragrances.
The sun was warm, baking down upon Anne’s black-clad shoulders. Yet, in spite of the heat, it was a fine day to be outdoors. They walked along a hedge and watched a brown sparrow hopping along the top branches. A rabbit ran across their path, anxious to reach the safety of his burrow.
They stopped to watch the few puffy clouds playing about the sky. A friendly breeze caressed Anne’s hair, reminding her of the warm breezes of her childhood. And she was grateful for the reminder. In India, she and Jeremy had carried on after the death of their parents. They would carry on again. She must not feel sorry for herself for losing either her parents or Grandfather. She must think clearly now, think of what was best for both herself and Jeremy.
Mariah interrupted her thoughts to say, “I forgot to tell you that Mr. Fletcher paid me a compliment the night of the assembly.”
“What did he say?”
Mariah’s blond curls danced as she said, “He said that I looked very lovely in my dress. I hope it does not bother you that he spoke to me so. For the most part, he scanned the dance floor, watching for you.”
“It does not bother me.”
Anne wondered that it did not. If she were truly in love with Mr. Fletcher, would she mind that he had admired Mariah?
After they had walked a bit longer, she took her leave, still pondering her feelings. As her carriage clattered along the rutted road, she tried to imagine what Grandfather would advise her to do. Would he tell her that the romantic feelings she desired would come in time if she married Mr. Fletcher. But what if they did not?
With these unsettling thoughts in mind, her carriage rounded the drive giving Anne a clear view of another carriage parked near the entry. She could only think that it was Mr. Fletcher come for her answer. And what would she say?