Well, she would know soon enough. Though she had put off this trip for days, she could delay no longer. There had been only so much that she could bring from Canada, and with the summer approaching the wool gowns she had brought were rapidly becoming unbearable.
She had thought to make over some of her old garments, but it was not possible. Anne had been shocked to discover that her father had disposed of every trace of her and Sarah’s presence. Not a single dress or pair of shoes remained from the days before she had left for Canada. Even their dolls were gone from the nursery, their books from the schoolroom. It was as if she and Sarah had never existed, and it gave her the oddest sense of being a stranger in the home of her childhood.
Fortunately there was a dressmaker in New Biddeford, as well as a linen shop where she could purchase fabric to make Ian new shirts. Lately it seemed that he outgrew his clothes nearly as fast as she could make them.
Anne made a list of what she needed, then sought out Ian to let him know that she was leaving.
“May I come too?” he asked.
“No, dear,” Anne said. “But I won’t be long. And when I return we will have our tea on the lawn. Cook has promised to make ginger biscuits and lemon snaps.”
Though yesterday Ian had begged for such a treat, today this was not enough to distract him. “But, Mama, we have been here ever so long. And you never have time for me anymore.”
He looked so forlorn one would think she had confined him to his room, rather than letting him run free over the manor grounds. Grounds which could easily hold the entire village where they lived back in Canada.
“Please, Mama? I’ll be ever so good. I promise.”
Anne hesitated, afraid. She did not know what she feared, yet deep inside her she felt reluctant to expose Ian to the world outside the gates. She would not rest easy until they had returned to Canada and could sink back into quiet anonymity. Still, what harm could there be? They might not be friendly, but it was unlikely the shopkeepers would be rude to her. And surely no one would say anything to a child.
“Very well. Go wash your hands and face, and fetch your cap.”
An hour later, she was glad that she had agreed to Ian’s company. It cheered her to see how much he enjoyed the outing. He was a constant bundle of energy, marveling over the stone buildings, the placid sheep grazing on the green, even the millpond and its ducks. Everything that she took for granted, he found marvelous and exciting, because it was so different from the seaside village that had been his world before now.
He was even patient, in his own way, as she called on the village dressmaker and ordered two gowns made up. They were both walking dresses, one of a plain dark gray fabric and the other of a dark brown patterned in black. It had taken much persuasion to convince the dressmaker to fashion the two garments, the dressmaker insisting that only black would do. But Anne had refused to be a hypocrite. She would not don full mourning for a parent who had treated her so cruelly. At last she and the dressmaker had agreed on these sober fabrics as a compromise. Anne and Ian left, Anne having been assured that the gowns would be ready within two days.
Outside the shop, Ian asked, “Can we go home now?”
As the afternoon had worn on, he’d finally seemed to reach the limits of his energy. His eyes were tired, and he walked sedately by her side instead of skipping ahead.
“Just one more shop, I promise. Then we will go home and have our tea.”
The lending library was on the way back to the top of the village where she had left the pony cart. Along with the rest of their possessions, Anne had left her books behind in Canada. Now, with their stay prolonged, she would welcome the diversion of a novel. And Ian had been idle for much too long. It was time to resume his lessons; for that she would need a primer.
Ian’s eyes brightened as she paused at the door to the lending library. Books were a rare and precious treat, and next to his riding lessons, he loved nothing better than to sit in Anne’s lap as she read to him.
“Now be careful not to touch anything. But if you are very good you may choose a picture book for your own.”
Ian promised, and into the library they went.
It had been over a week since he had seen Anne. Every day he promised himself that today would be the day he called on her. Yet each day came and went, and the promise went unfulfilled.
It was partly his mother’s fault. The Dowager Lady Frederick had not been pleased when he’d returned from his first visit to Anne and revealed that he had not ordered her to leave the neighborhood. Finally, to secure some peace, he had promised his mother he would take the matter under consideration.
When Lady Frederick asked him point-blank what his feelings were toward Anne, he had told her honestly that he did not know. Seeing her again had felt good, as if a part of his past had returned to him. And yet there was the child, who bore witness that Anne was not the innocent she seemed.
A part of him wanted to go to her, to demand the name of the man who had seduced her and then had left her to bear her shame alone. He would see that the cad paid for his crimes.
Yet another part of him held back, half-afraid that Anne did not want to be avenged. He could not imagine her giving herself to any man whom she did not love. And the coward in him did not want to confront Anne, only to hear how she had loved another.
And so he had stayed away, trying to think his way through this dilemma. Sensing his wavering feelings toward Anne, his mother, with the complicity of their longtime steward, invented dozens of obligations and errands that Freddie must see to personally.
Even now he was on his way to New Biddeford, running another errand for his mother. He was not quite sure how it had happened. One moment his mother was complaining about how she had nothing to divert her, and the next he had agreed to fetch her a selection of the latest novels. Eager to escape his mother’s constant harping, if only for a few hours, Freddie did not bother to ask why his mother, who still exercised her own mare every day regardless of the weather, was suddenly unable to make the journey herself.
As he entered the lending library, he knew there must be something out of the ordinary occurring. For once his entrance went unremarked, as the patrons had their attention focused on a commotion at the back of the room. But there were too many people in the way for him to see what was going on.
“We don’t want your patronage. Get out, and if you know what is good for you, you will never return.”
Freddie recognized the speaker as Tom Sweet, who was chief clerk. He could not hear the low-voiced reply, but some instinct warned him there was trouble, and he began threading his way among the bookcases and tables, toward the back of the room. There he found a dozen or so onlookers, standing in a semicircle before the clerk’s counter.
“Does not the Bible say ‘Judge not and ye shall not be judged’?”
He could not see her, but he would recognize Anne’s voice anywhere.
“Pardon me,” Freddie said, tapping on the shoulder of Mr. Steerwell.
“Of course, my lord,” Steerwell said, turning sideways so Freddie could squeeze by his bulk. “Reckon you’ll want to see this. That trollop Anne Webster is getting her comeuppance.”
Freddie glared at Steerwell, but he had more important matters to attend to.
Encouraged by murmurs from the audience, Tom Sweet continued his harangue. “Your presence in New Biddeford is a disgrace. Any decent woman would know better than to parade her bas—”
“Enough.” It was not quite a shout.
Tom Sweet’s jaw snapped shut as he saw who had spoken.
Anne turned to him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparked with anger. “I can take care of myself,” she insisted.
“Of course you can,” he lied.
Next to her, he could see the boy Ian, who seemed bewildered by the confrontation.
“And good day to you, Master Ian.”
Anne nudged him, and the boy executed a creditable bow. “Good afternoon, Lord Frederick,�
� he said.
Freddie turned his attention back to the impertinent clerk. As a boy, Tom Sweet had been a bully, always picking on those weaker than himself. It seemed that little had changed.
Freddie fixed the clerk with his gaze, letting him feel the full weight of his displeasure. “It seems a mistake has been made. I believe you owe Miss Webster an apology.”
“But, sir—”
“An apology. Now. Or do you truly wish to seek employment elsewhere?” It would take no more than a word from Freddie to see that Tom Sweet lost his job—and all hope of employment elsewhere in the county. It was a power he seldom used, but in this instance it would be a pleasure.
Tom Sweet licked his pale lips. “Of course. My lord, I am sorry if you were offended.”
“It is Miss Webster whose pardon you should beg.”
Anne drew a breath, but he placed his hand on her arm, forestalling whatever remark she was about to make.
Tom Sweet began again. “Miss Webster, it seems I have been misinformed. I apologize for my hasty remarks, and hope that you will not hold them against me.”
It was not graceful, but he knew it was all the man was capable of.
Anne inclined her head. “I accept your apology.”
He marveled at her restraint. The old Anne would have given the clerk the verbal tongue-lashing of his life. But now, seemingly conscious of young Ian hanging on her every word, Anne held her tongue.
Freddie stayed at her side as she concluded her business, then escorted her and Ian from the shop.
Once they were on the street, away from curious listeners, Anne turned to him. “You did not have to interfere,” she said testily.
“Would you have liked it better if I had stood by and said nothing?”
This surprised a faint smile out of her. “No, I suppose not,” she said.
Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. He could see the lines of strain on her face, and he wondered just what had been said before he had arrived on the scene? How many others had seen fit to insult her? He could not understand how they could do such a thing to one of their own, a girl they had known all her life.
He felt a stab of guilt as he realized that he himself was little better. After all, he had professed friendship and then had done his best to avoid her.
“Mama, why was that man yelling at you?”
Anne reached down and patted Ian’s shoulder. “There is nothing to worry about. It was just a misunderstanding.”
Ian nodded, but he still looked miserable, and he was blinking back tears. Freddie suspected that the boy understood more of what had occurred than Anne gave him credit for.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”
Anne shook her head. “No. I thank you, but you have done quite enough for one day.”
It was all so unfair. Freddie glanced up and down the street, but no inspiration appeared. He refused to let things end like this, to let Anne walk off without a word. Yet he could hardly invite her back to his estate, not without risking an even uglier confrontation with his mother.
He took her arm and led her toward the top of the village, where Anne had left the pony cart. He knew his time was running out, but nothing occurred to him until he caught sight of his horse Ajax, tied to a hitching post on the green.
Freddie reached down and tapped Ian on the arm. “See that horse over there? The big black one? That’s my horse, Ajax.”
Ian lifted his drooping head. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Ajax. “He’s really yours? He’s e-nor-mous. May I pet him?” Without bothering to wait for permission, Ian ran across the green to where the horse was tethered.
“Wait,” Anne called, gathering up her skirts and preparing to run after him. “Wait, Ian,” she called.
Freddie caught her arm. “There is no need to worry. Ajax is a fraud. I named him after a mighty warrior, but he is the gentlest horse I know. Ian will be perfectly safe,” he reassured her.
And indeed they could see it was so, for Ian had already reached the horse, and Ajax had lowered his head so the boy could pat his mane.
Anne slowed to merely a swift walk, but allowed him to guide her around the green rather than muddying their shoes by crossing it.
“Ian looks like he could use a treat. What say I take him up on Ajax and let him ride with me? I promise to return him safe and sound,” Freddie said, with a studied attempt at casualness. Even as he issued the invitation, he wondered how much it was prompted by a genuine wish to cheer up a young boy and how much it was due to the knowledge that returning Ian to his mother would give him an excuse to spend more time with Anne?
Anne gave him a look that said she could see right through his scheme. He expected her to refuse, but to his surprise she agreed. “There is no one else I would trust him with,” she said. “Just keep the ride a short one. Cook is preparing a special picnic for tea today, and I would hate her preparations to go to waste.”
“And I am invited?” Freddie asked boldly.
“Of course. Now, off with you both, before I change my mind.”
Five
Freddie lifted Ian up and set him on Ajax’s back, just before the saddle.
“Now hold tight to his mane. There’s a lad,” Freddie said, as he made sure Ian was firmly settled. Then he swung up onto the saddle behind the boy. A more skittish mount might have shown signs of alarm, but the unflappable Ajax merely turned his head to ensure that it was indeed his master on his back.
Anne looked at the two of them doubtfully. “Straight home, and no galloping,” she cautioned.
“Yes, Mama,” Ian said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll look after him,” Freddie promised. It was only a short ride, not an expedition into the wilds.
He settled his arms around the boy, the reins held firmly in his hands, then started Ajax off at a walk. Even without turning around, he knew that Anne’s gaze followed their progress until she could no longer see them.
As they made their way down the High Street, Freddie could see heads turning to watch their progress. This was not unusual. After all, he was the local lord. More than half the villagers made their living working on his estate or supplying those who did. Yet for once there was no one calling his name, nor inquiries after his health. Even Betsy, the tavern maid, sweeping the yard in front of the tavern, forbore to offer him her usual curtsey and cheeky invitation to stop awhile.
He knew their disapproval was not for him, but rather for young Ian. Even after witnessing the ugly confrontation at the lending library, he still found it difficult to believe that they could be so harsh and unforgiving.
Ian made a small sound of protest as Freddie’s arm instinctively tightened around him. Freddie forced himself to relax his grip. No matter how tightly he held him, he could not protect the boy from the ill will of the villagers. But he did not relax until they had left the disapproving inhabitants of New Biddeford behind them.
As he turned off the High Street onto the lane that led toward the Websters’, he checked on the boy seated before him. Ian had relaxed his death grip on Ajax’s mane and was now looking about with interest.
“What do you think of my horse? Do you like him?”
“He’s very tall,” Ian said noncommittally.
Freddie hesitated, wondering what to say next. His own nieces and nephews were still infants, and he could not remember the last time he had conversed with a young boy.
“You like horses, don’t you?” he finally asked.
“Oh, very much. At home we never had a horse, but now Mr. Sammy is teaching me to ride. Sometimes he calls me a proper heathen, but yesterday he said I might make a rider after all.”
“That’s very high praise. Samson has been teaching children to ride for nearly twenty years. Why, he even taught your mother, and many said she had the best seat for a woman in the county.” Whether riding sidesaddle or no, but that was a tale for another day.
Ian twisted around, and looked at Freddie in apparent
disbelief. “Mama never rides. And if she was so good, why doesn’t she teach me herself?”
Anne had given up riding, once the chief joy of her life? Often in the hunt she had matched him jump for jump, and he would have sworn that nothing would have made her give up riding. Could she really have changed that much?
“Perhaps she is too busy,” Freddie said, then wished he could take the words back as he felt Ian’s frame sag with unhappiness. “But I think she wanted Sam to teach you so you could learn from the best.”
His words did little to comfort the boy.
“Mama is always busy,” the boy muttered. “Since we came here, she never has time for me. There is always one of those stiff people around.”
“Stiff people?”
“You know. The ones who look at me like I haven’t washed my face, even when I know it is clean. Like Mr. Boswell.”
“Ah. You mean the servants.”
Freddie wondered just how much Ian understood. Did the boy know what it meant to be a bastard? It was too much to expect a child to understand, yet surely the boy knew that something was wrong.
“I hate this place. Mama is never happy since we came here. I wish we could go home and that everything would be as it was before,” Ian said angrily, then banged his heels into the horse’s side.
At this signal Ajax sprang forward into a canter. Ian crowed with glee. Freddie’s hands tightened on the reins, then loosened. Let the boy have his fun. Freddie felt a keen sympathy with Ian’s urge for speed. If only they could run fast enough to outrun their troubles.
“Would you like me to show you how to jump?”
Anne must have been waiting by a window, for she appeared on the stairs before they had reached the top of the drive. A servant held the horse’s head as Freddie handed young Ian down and then dismounted himself.
Lord Freddie's First Love Page 4