by Cheryl Bolen
"Does your head feel as if it came in contact with a brick wall?" Anna asked with mirth.
He opened one eye and gazed at her, lying on her stomach beside him, her dark hair falling to her milky shoulders. Despite his head, he could get started all over again, he thought, drinking in her loveliness. "It seems my wife has a keen understanding of the after effects of liquor."
"Shall I ring for a servant to bring you tisane?"
"Can't tolerate the stuff." He eased up to a half reclining position, his eyes still on Anna. "I wasn't too. . .forceful with you last night?"
She shook her head.
He sank back to a mound of pillows. "I do not think I will leave the house today."
"Glad I am of that," she said with fervor. "Your mother, too, desires your presence here with last-minute decisions about tonight."
He rolled across the satin spread and brought his arms around Anna. "And what preparations do you tend to today, my lady?"
"Your mother has spared me of all duties," she said, no hint of complaint in her voice.
His lips trailed along her face, the slender column of her neck and to her breasts. "Then you have time for wifely duties."
Her arms came around him. "I could be coerced," she whispered hungrily.
Chapter 15
While her husband and sisters helped sooth their mothers' demands of the servants, Anna and Colette slipped away for their daily trek to the East End. As they did each day, they walked to Piccadilly and hired a hack for the journey to White Chapel. Not only could the Haverstock crest announce their presence to any manner of criminals, but its presence in so undesirable a borough would likely insure the dowager's wrath, Anna thought.
Mindful of their safety, Anna had solicited Jimmy's protection for these afternoon trips. It was highly unlikely that their dependents in the East End would allow a hand to be brought against the former Miss de Mouchet and her French maid. Young and old, the bare-legged, bedraggled females flocked to Number 14 Highberry Street – the building Anna's solicitor had leased for the sewing school.
Anna and Colette had delighted in purchasing spools of every color thread, three dozen pair of scissors and bolts of muslins from the linen drapers. Mr. Wimple had arranged to have tables and chairs delivered, and in a very short time, the free school was filled to capacity, and a waiting list had twelve names on it.
Though they stayed only two hours a day, the time passed quickly, with Anna and Colette darting to and fro, instructing the eager learners in the rudimentary art of fine sewing.
In a very short time, Anna became especially attached to a young woman who was about her own age, though Sally already had two babes she brought with her each day. Sally was a quick learner with an even keener desire to secure a good job working for a dressmaker to fine ladies. Her stitches were neat and tiny, and she possessed a flair for matching color and pattern. She wore the same dress every day – one of Anna's castoffs – but Anna was pleased to note it was always clean.
"How long before I be good enough to earn me a livin' sewing, me lady?" she asked Anna.
"Though your progress is excellent," Anna said, "you must remember you will have to compete with those who have been sewing all their lives."
The thin blonde nodded knowingly. "How much do they make in a day?"
In truth, Anna had never given the matter a thought. What kind of daily wage did a seamstress make? "How much would you like to earn?" Anna asked.
"Enough to get me and me girls a nice little house with a garden."
"What about your husband?"
Sally colored. "I ain't got no husband."
"No one helps you provide for your babies?"
She shook her head. "I want them to have it better than I've had it."
Anna bent down and picked up the older of Sally's girls and held her close. She felt oddly jealous of the unfortunate Sally who possessed a world of wealth in her two lovely little girls.
But since lying with her husband last night, Anna felt less lonely. A flush of sweet fulfillment swept over her at the memory.
He'd be deuced glad when his mother's dinner was behind him, Haverstock thought as he directed his gig to Piccadilly. He only hoped they did not lose every single servant. Three had quit in tears this morning, and it was now his mission to secure some last-minute replacements at the agency.
Humming to himself and jostling the ribbons, he had to admit neither his abominable head nor the dowager's ill humor could diminish his good spirits today. An overwhelming tenderness washed over him at the thought of Anna. His lovely, wondrous, generous, loyal Anna. What a fool he had been to ever distrust her.
It was while he took his pleasure remembering the luxuriating feel of her beneath him that he thought he saw her from the corner of his eye. He turned to make sure and saw her, with Colette at her side, offering coins to a hackney driver.
Anger flushed his cheeks at what he saw next. Behind Anna and towering over her like a protective gargoyle was Jimmy.
When Anna was completely dressed that night, she dismissed Colette and waited for her husband to come escort her downstairs. She heard him speaking to his valet in the adjoining dressing room. Then she heard a door open and presumed Manors had left. But still, Haverstock did not come. After several minutes passed, she entered his dressing room. Her husband was not there.
She crossed that room and entered his sleeping chamber. No one was there either. She glanced at the ormolu clock on his mantle. Guests would already be arriving. Surely he had not gone on without her. She waited five more minute – which seemed like an hour. Still, he did not come.
She returned to her room, opened the door to the hallway and heard a hum of voices from below. Fighting back tears of dejection, she squared her shoulders and glided downstairs.
Haverstock stood next to his mother in the receiving line. Swamped by the forlorn feeling of utter isolation, Anna fixed a smile on her face and regally strode to take her place at her husband's side.
"How lovely you look, my dear," he said coolly before introducing her to the guests at the head of the line, a Mr. and Mrs. Basil Fortesque.
After the Fortesques moved on, Anna found herself face-to-face with the prettiest woman she had ever seen. She was small and blond and fair with a filmy saffron dress.
"May I introduce you to my daughter-in-law, Lady Jane," the dowager said sweetly. "Anna this is Lady Jane Wyeth. I'm sure you've heard us speak of her."
The woman's name struck Anna like a fierce blow to the windpipe. She was the one the dowager had chosen to wed Charles. Anna trembled and could not find her voice, but somehow that ridiculous smile remained fixed on her face as she nodded at the gorgeous woman in yellow whose poise and assurance made Anna feel even more unworthy to be standing beside Charles as his marchioness.
Lady Jane dipped a graceful curtsey and offered Anna felicitations on her nuptials and compliments on her copper-colored gown.
Next, Anna was presented to Lady Jane's parents, the Eart and Countess of Langley, who gave every indication of doting upon their daughter.
After the 40 guests were seated at the huge dining table, Anna went cold when she saw Lady Jane at the opposite end of the table, to the right of Haverstock. No doubt, the dowager had placed Lady Jane there to underscore Anna's total inadequacy to be the Marchioness of Haverstock.
Dinner was interminable. Course after course and hour after hour, it went on. An ache in her stomach rid Anna of any appetite. She felt hot from all the candles, and started fanning herself. All that separated her from totally succumbing to a fit of embarrassing crying was the presence of Lydia on her right and Morgie on her left.
Early in the evening, Anna watched as Lydia gave a cold glance in the direction of Lady Jane.
"Lady Jane is very lovely," Anna said.
Lydia frowned. "She is exceedingly spoiled. Lord and Lady Langley lost three babes before she – their last – arrived. I fear they coddled her excessively. Her vocabulary is largely peppered with her
two favorite words: I and me."
A gleam danced in Morgie's eyes. "What a devilishly wicked tongue you possess, Lady Lydia."
"I learned all my malicious ways from you," Lydia said. She returned her attention to Anna. "Of course, she is so lovely, I doubt the men ever listen to a word that issues from her beautiful face."
Every glance, every word that passed between her husband and Lady Jane sent tremors of fear and dejection through Anna. She could not help but recognize the fair lady of noble birth possessed the pedigree and confidence she herself lacked. And Anna felt more woefully inadequate than ever to be Charles' wife.
While a facade of carefully feigned civility cloaked Anna's agony, her sisters appeared in high spirits. Kate had arranged to have Mr. Reeves on her right and proceeded to dazzle the retiring man with her marked attentions. Cynthia, too, had persuaded her mother to seat Captain Smythe beside her, and the two spoke animatedly to one another.
Only Charlotte, with the rather handsome Mr. Churchdowne at her side, lacked gaiety. No doubt she pined for Mr. Hogart, whom her mother obviously found unworthy of an invitation.
After dinner, Anna sank into a seat at a whist table with Morgie and Lydia and found herself being introduced to Mr. Churchdowne, who would make a fourth at their table.
As she had throughout dinner, Anna once again found the man's clear blue eyes on her, and she felt uncomfortable. Lydia explained that Mr. Churchdowne had only this week come to town.
"I confess to having noticed you in the park with Mr. Morgan yesterday, Lady Haverstock," he said. "I was consumed with jealousy toward Mr. Morgan."
Shocked the man could speak thus to a married lady, Anna was at a loss for a reply.
He took the deck of cards in his long, slender hands and began to deal. "Might I hope to escort you one afternoon?"
"I am a married woman, Mr. Churchdowne. The reason my husband allows me to ride with Mr. Morgan is that they are the dearest of friends, with Morgie being quite like one of the family." She gave a fake little laugh. "Also, my husband feels dreadfully guilty that he has no time for me."
"Your husband is an utter fool."
Anna attempted to treat his remark flippantly. "I beg you speak no ill of my husband. He is quite a dear."
Her husband's voice cut into Anna's circle. "How did you find dinner, my love?"
She looked up at Haverstock, handsome in his black silk coat and white knee breeches stretched across his muscled legs. "I am sure it was excellent."
"But you hardly touched your food, I noticed."
She was thankful he had noticed her at all. "I do not feel particularly well, Charles. I daresay I would retire early if this weren't my own house." The words stuck in her throat. This was not her house. She did not belong here. Nothing reinforced her unwelcomeness more than her exclusion from the receiving line tonight. Burned into her memory was the vision of her beaming mother-in-law standing proudly beside an amiable Charles, greeting their old friends.
The dowager cut into their conversation. "Oh, Charles, here you are. Some of the ladies are singing in the salon. I thought you could turn pages for Lady Jane while she plays the pianoforte."
"I should muddle it excessively if I tried," Haverstock said with finality, taking his leave from Anna but not going to the salon.
Somehow, Anna got through the night without embarrassing tears, but excused herself as soon as good manners permitted.
She allowed Colette to remove her gown and boast on how lovely she looked. "I peeked from the top of the third floor," Colette said. "No woman was a match for my Anna. You were most joli of all."
"Did you not see the lovely little blonde in yellow?" Anna asked.
"Very pretty," Colette said stiffly. "But her beauty, it paled next to that of you."
Anna held up her arms as Colette pulled the night gown over her head. "It is not a warm gown," Colette said, her eyes sparkling, "but with his lordship beside you, you will not be cold."
Colette knew every time Charles shared her bed, Anna thought. After the old abigail left, Anna climbed on the bed that only this morning swayed under their gentle lovemaking. What had gone so utterly wrong in so few hours? Anna wondered. What had she done to repulse him? These melancholy thoughts kept her from sleep. As time passed, she heard Charles in his dressing room and against all reason hoped profoundly he would come to her again.
Neither her desire for him nor her craving for sleep were to be realized.
Chapter 16
Still dressed in her riding habit, Lydia burst into Anna's room the following morning. "I was worried about you when you did not show up for your morning ride," she said, coming to sit at Anna's bedside. "Are you still unwell?"
Anna knew it was futile to be less than honest with her perceptive sister. "If you must know, I'm in rather low spirits. Did you not notice how Charles excluded me from the receiving line last night?"
Lydia nodded solemnly. "It was dreadfully inexcusable of him. It will never happen again. I've already spoken to him of it this morning, and he agrees it was thoroughly thoughtless of him. I don't know what has gotten into Charles lately. He's been his beastly old brooding self."
Anna sat up and flipped her hair from her face. "If you learn what troubles him, please share it with me."
Removing her riding hat and mindlessly twirling it in her hands, Lydia hesitated a moment, then said, "Speaking of sharing, would it be excessively rude of me to inquire where it is you and Colette go each afternoon?"
Anna leaned back into her pillows. "I suppose it does seem mysterious. Though it's not something I talk about, it's not anything I am ashamed of." Anna told Lydia about her years of helping those in the East End and of the newly established sewing school. Lydia nodded knowingly when Anna disclosed that she chose not to take the Haverstock barouche on these forays.
When Anna finished, Lydia exclaimed, "What a delightful scheme! I would love to make whatever insignificant contribution I could at your school. Would you and Colette mind if I forced my company on you?"
"We would gratefully welcome the help."
* * *
His eyes strained and his hands ached from decoding messages from the Peninsula, but Haverstock still managed a fleeting rush of pride. The information he received from Monsieur Herbert had contributed to the French defeat at Salamanca. Haverstock had been very careful to personally dispatch the information himself to keep it from others in the London office.
This afternoon he would meet Pierre at their new meeting place. Poor Pierre suffered under the delusion that France would once again be what it was before the revolution. Before Pierre's wife and children had been slaughtered. To this end, he risked his life countless times on clandestine missions to France in the cause of Britannia. Because he still had friends in positions of importance, Pierre had been able to provide Haverstock with invaluable information. All for a few guineas and the satisfaction of knowing he hastened bringing peace to his native soil.
Haverstock, too, would do anything in his power to bring this devastating war to an end. For his own self, it could not be too soon to get his brother back in England. Every time he heard of casualties in the Light, his stomach did an odd flip, and he worried about James. God, but it would be good to see his little brother again.
He wondered what James would think of Anna. Of course, being a connoisseur of beauty, he would love her. And how would she feel toward him? Would she kiss him and flirt with him? He did not like to think of it.
At least she had not flirted with that insufferable Harry Churchdowne last night. How Haverstock longed to get in the ring with him at Jackson's. The man did not even have the decency to avert his gaze from Anna all night. Morgie had told Haverstock that Churchdowne had the audacity to ask Anna to ride with him in the park.
Now that he was thinking on it, Haverstock was not as receptive to her riding with Morgie as he once had been. And he really didn't like the idea of her kissing Morgie, either. Morgie was one of the juiciest prizes on the marria
ge mart. He was tolerably good looking, extremely well dressed, fun to be with and possessed of a vast fortune. Then, Haverstock remembered Anna knew Morgie before she knew him. And it was not Morgie she desired as a husband. She desired him. She had not sought to be his wife for love. Quite the opposite, he painfully reminded himself.
His breath caught. Did she still hate him? Had she feigned concern for him only to secretly go about wreaking havoc on his life? He thought back to all the times she had seemed so genuinely concerned over him. Especially two nights ago. He could still see her ashen face as she opened her chamber door and thanked God he was all right. He could almost feel her trembling beneath him as she gave him the greatest sexual pleasure he had ever experienced.
Was all that an act to conceal her lewd ways? She had willingly gone alone to Lord Wentworth's library with Sir Henry Vinson. She had gone alone to the stables where she had been rather intimate with Jimmy. And she and Jimmy had obviously gone off together in a rented hack. Why would the Marchioness of Haverstock, who had half a dozen conveyances at her disposal, rent a cab unless she was concealing her destination?
He put his head in his hands. He was better off before his marriage. He might not have been happy then, but he certainly was not happy now. That cursed wife of his was a constant source of consternation. Why just this morning he had to fight against his urge to check on Anna. When she did not show up for their morning ride he remembered she had not felt well the night before. Throughout the entire ride he worried foolishly about her.
That was the problem with a wife. Good or bad, they belonged to you. You had to take care of them. To care for them. And despite all the reasons why he should not care for Anna, he still cared for her and wanted to protect her. For her, he had said terrible things to his own mother.