by Leenie Brown
She glanced at the clock. Half an hour. She had half an hour until she would conclude her one and only short season in town. It had not been completely without enjoyment. She had attended two balls, three musicales, and a dinner party. She had entertained several callers and taken in several of the sites of London. She tucked a sketch into her book. It was a drawing given to her by Kitty and depicted one of the marbles at the museum. She had enjoyed seeing the lifelikeness of the stone. It still amazed her that such life could come from something so hard and cold. She sniggered. The coldness of that trip had not been due to the stone facades of the marbles. No, Miss Bingley and her friends had been there.
“They like to frequent this display,” Kitty had whispered, “but even the statues are unwilling to offer for the likes of them.”
Both Anne and Kitty had laughed at the comment and returned to their drawing. Anne was not particularly good at drawing, but Kitty was willing to give her some instruction, and Anne was desirous of spending time with Kitty. They had ignored the other ladies after that. If only Miss Ivison had been so kind and reciprocated the action, but she was not. There was very little that was kind about Miss Ivison. After making a round of the displays, Miss Ivison came to admire the marble that Kitty and Anne were drawing. She stood off to the left, but not so far away that her conversation could not be heard by the two who were sketching.
“She has turned away an army of offers as if she is the prize of the season.” Miss Pearce had tittered at the cut. “And yet,” Miss Ivison had continued, “she will return home in failure, an old maid. Fitting, I should think. Advertising for a husband,” she scoffed. “No respectable woman does such a thing.”
It had been enough to raise Anne’s ire, and ignoring the restraining hand Kitty placed on her arm, she stood and engaged the woman. “And you do not advertise for a husband?” She looked at Miss Ivison’s hat. “You could not make yourself more conspicuous than you do with that monstrosity on your head. It is like a beacon on the sea shouting to all who pass that danger lies just beyond it.” Her gaze lowered. “And, if that neckline is not an advertisement as to what can be had…well.” She had flicked an eyebrow and smirked. “Perhaps you should try an advertisement in the Times. I had several well-qualified gentlemen lining up to see me, and yet, even with what paltry goods you have to place on display,” she looked around the room and shook her head, “not one seems to be seeking you out.” She turned to Caroline. “I do not like you, but even you should know that this woman was keen to have me accept a most indecent proposal from Lord Blackmoore. And do you know why? Because she believes that a title should stay with those who are born to it rather than being given to those, such as yourself, who are of more lowly birth.” She paused. “You would do well to relieve yourself of such clawing females, but I suspect you are not so clever as to do so. Come, Kitty. I think there must be a more pleasant place to pass our time.”
She still giggled at the look of displeasure on Miss Ivison’s face. There had been a short conversation conducted in harsh tones as Kitty and Anne had walked away. Then, as they reached the door, Anne had looked back to see Miss Bingley and Miss Pearce arm in arm and Miss Ivison standing quite alone. She probably should have felt some pang of remorse or sadness for the lady, but she did not. She had felt rather elated, and she still did.
“Are you ready?” Lady Sophia poked her head around the door.
“Soon,” said Anne. “Five minutes, please. I need to do one more thing.”
“Very well, but do hurry. Reginald grows restless. “Military men do not like to be kept waiting.”
Anne smiled at her aunt. It was true. The admiral was a stickler for punctuality, but he would have to wait just a moment. He would also have to adjust his route a small amount. There was something that really needed doing before she departed London. She sat at the desk and opened her writing supplies. She dipped her pen in the ink and then, applying it to paper, began one last very important message. “It is with an anxious heart that I, Miss de Bourgh, once again apply to the readers of this paper…”
Chapter 11
“There is a bit in the paper you may wish to read.” Jonathan folded back the paper and placed it next to Alex’s plate. They had had a busy but successful day. Alex had assisted Lord Brownlow in acquiring the hunters he desired, and in the process, there was a new mare to add to Alex’s own stock of horses. He should be happy, but that was an emotion he doubted he would ever truly feel again. He had gambled his last chance at happiness two weeks ago with a foolish comment about chess. He closed his eyes on the memory of her shaking her head with such sorrow in her eyes.
He pushed the paper away. “I will read it after I have had my fill.” He scooped a large spoonful of stew from his bowl. The cook at this particular inn was well-known for her talent, and he was looking forward to enjoying it. He did not wish to be bothered with news that might spoil his pleasure; still he was curious as to the nature of the article. “Politics?” he asked before indulging in that first hot bite.
“No.” Jonathan took a slow sip of his ale.
Madoch’s brows furrowed as he chewed. “Nothing to do with Prinny?” he questioned around the food in his mouth.
“No.” Jonathan placed his mug on the table and leaned back in his chair. His bowl was already empty because he had begun eating while Alex had stopped to question the stable boy about some item of care for his horse.
Madoch stretched his neck forward a bit as he took another bite. His eyes could just see a bit of the paper. If he had not pushed it so far, he might be able to read it as he ate. “A society bit?” The words were nearly lost as they mixed with the stew in his mouth. Usually, his manners were better, but when it was just he and Jonathan, he often slipped back into a more relaxed and far less formal habit than would be acceptable in polite society.
“You could say that,” said Jonathan with a grin. “A wedding announcement might also be a fitting description depending on how you,” he gave Alex a pointed look, “read it.” He took up the paper. “I could read it to you if you wish.”
Alex shrugged and broke off a piece of bread to sop up some of the liquid in his bowl. “It matters not if I read it or if you do, I suppose.”
“So, I should read it?”
Alex nodded.
“You are certain?”
Alex scowled and nodded once again. Why would he not be certain he wished to hear a society announcement. He stopped eating and looked at Jonathan, the wonderful taste of stew becoming sodden and dull. “She has made a choice?”
Jonathan raised only one brow, and Alex knew that she had. He lowered his spoon, wiped his hands, and took a large gulp of his ale. “Proceed,” he said, steeling himself to hear the dreaded news. She would never be his.
“You will not believe her choice,” said Jonathan, making a show of snapping the paper into position to read.
“Just get on with it,” muttered Alex.
“It is with an anxious heart that I, Miss de Bourgh, once again apply to the readers of this paper,” began Jonathan, “Are you sure you wish me to continue?”
“Did I not say I did?” Alex glared at Jonathan. This was not like his friend. Jonathan did as instructed and rarely questioned more than once before proceeding.
“It is with an anxious heart that I, Miss de Bourgh, once again apply to the readers of this paper…” He looked up from the words. “She would be gone to Hertfordshire now for her cousin’s wedding.”
“I know,” said Alex through clenched teeth.
Jonathan nodded and returned to the page. “It is with –”
Alex snatched the paper away from his friend. “You have read that bit twice already.” He swallowed before turning his eyes to the paper. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head. Surely, he had not read that correctly. He began again. No, it seemed to say what he thought it did. He handed the paper back to Jonathan. “It is best if you read it.”
Jonathan took the paper from him. “It says exactly what yo
u think, my friend, but I shall read it, without further delay, just to prove to you that it is true.” He cleared his throat and began reading. ““It is with an anxious heart that I, Miss de Bourgh, once again applies to the readers of this paper for help in the search for a husband. As you, the reader, may know, I advertised not a month ago for a husband. I have made my selection; however, I fear I have taken too long in reaching my decision, and this gentleman may indeed be lost to me. And so it is with a trembling hand that I place this announcement here for all to see in hopes that one Mr. Alexander Madoch will be among the readers of this fine paper.” Jonathan lowered the paper. “We can stay with my father,” he said quietly.
Alex stared blankly at his friend for a moment. “She chose me,” he said at last, “but why?”
“Ask her,” said Jonathan.
“Ask her?”
Jonathan laughed softly. “Yes, my friend. Ask her. We leave at first light and will stay with my father. I shall inform the stables and innkeeper of the change.” He rose and quit the room before Alex had a chance to refute the plan.
~*~*~*~
Anne had smiled when she was supposed to and attempted to say all the right things, but her heart, though happy for her cousin and Kitty, was anything but joyous. It had been two days since she had placed that advertisement in the paper, and she could not help wondering if he had seen it and if the joy she had seen on Kitty’s face today would ever be hers.
“You look tired,” said Lady Sophia, coming to stand near her niece in Netherfield’s drawing room.
Anne gave a small shrug. “I am. I suppose.”
“A bit of air might be just the thing.” Lady Sophia sent a footman scurrying with the request for both her wrap and Anne’s. “It was a lovely wedding breakfast, was it not?”
Anne nodded.
“I have only two nieces left to see happy.” The look she gave Anne was gentle. “I will see them both happy, will I not?”
Anne shook her head. “I cannot say,” she whispered. She pulled her lips into a smile that she did not feel. “I shall attempt to be happy. If I can spend time with you and my cousins and their wives, I think I can be at least content.” She shook her head again. “If I have to spend all my time with my mother, I will be neither content nor happy — although perhaps I will learn to enjoy her company.”
“You will not marry another?” It was the third time since entering the carriage yesterday that her aunt had asked the question.
“I will not.” She took the wrap from her maid and, putting it on, followed her aunt into the garden. It was a bright and crisp day. The freshness of the air felt good as she drew a deep breath.
“Not for security or position?” Lady Sophia wound her arm around Anne’s and pulled her close as they walked to a bench surrounded by some early blooms and protected by a hedge.
“If I found myself destitute, I might,” replied Anne, “but I do not see that happening. I have you, Uncle Reginald, and my cousins, who I know would come to my aid.”
Lady Sophia patted Anne’s hand. “That we would. But, I must say, this is a great change for you, is it not — to be dependent on others and under their power?”
“None of you would ever harm me.” Anne took a seat on the bench. “You love me far too much to allow it.”
Lady Sophia smiled but did not sit next to Anne. “We do, and I am glad you have come to realize it.” She turned to look down the path. “Your father loved your mother, you know,” she spoke quietly, glancing back at Anne. “He applied to my father three times before his offer was accepted.” Her shoulders rose and fell with a great breath. “But there were stipulations placed on the agreement. My brother, Lord Matlock, was not the best at balancing wants with income. He has since improved, but I would still not trust him with my money.” She took a seat next to Anne. “It is not his strength. My father knew this and used the love your father had for my sister to coerce an agreement of support should it become necessary — an inevitable event. You know, of course, how appearance is important to your mother. I can only imagine the begging and threatening that might have taken place if your father had not wished to give my brother what he requested.” She took Anne’s hand. “I would guess that my imagination was not wrong in this?”
Anne shook her head. “There were many loud discussions.” Her reply was soft, and Lady Sophia had to bend closer to hear it.
“I am sorry to hear that.”
Anne looked at her aunt. “Did my mother ever love my father?”
Lady Sophia shook her head. “I do not know, my dear. I certainly never saw it. There was an admiration and concern, but nothing of the giving of one’s very soul to the other as I had with my husband.” She sighed. “That is where the issue lay — not with rank or fortune. Do you understand?”
Anne nodded.
“I do,” said Alex stepping around the hedge. “A man or woman who loves another completely would not allow harm to come to the one they love, no matter the source.”
Anne gasped, and her lips trembled as tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of him.
Lady Sophia stood and after a quick word of greeting and a whispered comment to Alex, left the two alone. Alex took the place on the bench which had just been vacated by Anne’s aunt.
“You came,” Anne whispered.
Alex took her hand and nodded but said nothing.
Anne’s eyes rested on their joined hands. “I was afraid you would not. I called on you at Lord Brownlow’s, and I made my uncle give me the directions for a letter to you.”
“You wrote to me?”
Anne nodded and lifted her eyes to look at him. “Twice. The second letter was returned with an accompanying letter from your uncle explaining that you were not in Brighton and would not be for some time.” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling and drew a shuddering breath. “I thought I had lost you. Why did you leave?”
“Why did you choose me?” he replied.
“I love you,” she said without a moment’s pause. “I have always loved you.”
“It was not because of what Mr. Blackmoore told you about my connections?”
Anne’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head vigorously. “I had made my choice before I knew. What he or Rycroft may have told me afterward were of little concern.”
“Rycroft?”
“My cousin sought me out to see if I was well and confirmed what Mr. Blackmoore had said.”
Alex tilted his head and studied her face. He wished to believe her, and having heard her conversation with her aunt, he was nearly convinced he would not be wrong to trust her. Still, he had to be certain. “I am no longer in charge of the Prince’s stables in Brighton.”
“Have you been sacked?” she asked. “Was the prince angry that you left town so suddenly?”
He chuckled. “No, I, or rather Jonathan, made arrangements for me to step down from my position.”
“So, you will not be sent to the tower or off to some foreign land?”
He pulled her into his embrace. “I will be contentedly managing my own stables on my own estate and providing guidance as needed in Brighton as well as a well-bred horse to the Brighton stables on occasion.”
“May I join you?” she asked looking up at him from where her head rested a bit awkwardly on his shoulder. “Will you have me?”
“You truly do not care that my position has changed, and I might fade completely from Prinny’s notice?”
“I do not.” She smiled sheepishly at him. “I have been a fool.”
His left brow rose, and he smirked. “I will not disagree. You have been, and I am sure you will continue to be at times.” With a huff, she tried to pull away from him, but he was not letting go. “But,” he continued, giving her that smile that made her stomach flip, “you will be my fool, and I will be glad to have you.” He released her suddenly and stood, leaving her quite confused. “Come,” he said extending his hand. “We have a journey to make.”
“A journey?” She placed her h
and in his.
“Yes,” he said with a smile, “a journey.”
“To where?” she asked as he pulled her to her feet and back into his embrace.
“Do you trust me?”
She nodded.
“Good,” he said before giving her what he had meant to be a very quick kiss but was not. “I have waited six years to have you as my wife,” he said after he had broken the kiss and held her against his rapidly beating heart until he was certain his voice would sound relatively normal. “I will not wait another moment longer than I must.” Then bending, he scooped her into his arms and hurried through the garden and to the carriage that stood waiting on Netherfield’s drive.
~*~*~*~
“Was Anne not with you?” asked Rycroft as his mother entered the drawing room without his cousin.
“She was,” his mother replied.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“In your carriage.”
Rycroft jumped to his feet and went to the window. “Why in heaven’s name is she in my carriage?”
“Because,” said his mother with a chuckle, clearly enjoying teasing her son, “although a horse would have been faster, it would have been far less comfortable.”
Rycroft spun towards his mother.
“You remember Mr. Lester, do you not?” Lady Sophia asked as the gentleman entered the room.
“Do not distract me, Mother. My carriage is leaving without me in it, and I wish to know where it is taking my cousin.”
“Samuel,” said Lady Sophia in the tone of a mother instructing a child, “if Mr. Lester is here — “