Anna's Refuge

by Kerryn Reid

  “No. I’ll live with my parents. Afterward we all will, for a few months.”

  She wrinkled her nose but said nothing. It would be dreadfully rude to insult his parents. She hadn’t even met them yet.

  He read her expression easily enough. “Believe me, it’s not my first choice either. But I care very much that you should feel welcome in Wrackwater Bridge. We have the Redferns and the Wedburys behind us. If people see that our marriage is accepted by my family, and yours as well, we’ll do fine. Your mother sent a betrothal announcement to the papers.”

  Anna stiffened. “Did she? When?” He lifted his gaze to hers, cautious. Guilty.

  “Tuesday. I wanted them written and posted while I was there to make sure it happened.”

  She pulled her hand from his, strangled by the abrupt, irrational fury rising in her throat. “Six days ago. Before I even learned of your offer, much less accepted it.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I let them think you had. It seemed a more effective bargaining position.”

  She shoved the squirming baby at him and pushed herself up. Took three angry steps to the right and three steps back.

  “Anna. You’re being—”

  “Stupid? I know.”

  “Irrational.” The very word she’d used on herself. She could hardly scold him for it.

  Standing, Lewis wedged the baby securely in one corner of the sofa. He stopped Anna as she passed, his hands warm on her shoulders.

  “I suppose it was a bit high-handed. But you’ve accepted me now, if only because there was no other choice. Does it make so much difference when the announcements were sent?”

  “No—but must I admit it?”

  “Look at me.”

  She didn’t want to. “Mrs. Redfern said I could have three months.”

  He raised her chin. His expression showed amusement, but his voice was serious as always. “You may have as long as you need, sweetheart. But I can hope for less, can’t I?”

  She nodded and he kissed her temple, the only place he could reach as she soaked his shoulder with a new sort of tears.

  Chapter 39

  Lewis arrived at the Wedburys’ in mid-afternoon, glad to change into clothes that had not spent the past two weeks either on his body or crammed into a portmanteau. He would spend the first night here, packing his things for the move to his parents’ house tomorrow. No doubt they thought they were rid of him for good—in the morning they would discover how wrong they were.

  What the devil would he say to them? Checking his cravat in the mirror, he spouted the first words that came into his head.

  I’m moving home for an indefinite period with an unexpected wife, a child, and two maids. And you’d better pretend to like it!

  How should he respond when his father called Anna names? Not with a bout of fisticuffs, as he had with Gideon.

  Well, that was tomorrow’s challenge. He went in search of Jack.

  Absorbed in a game of piquet with Cassie, Jack hardly noticed Lewis’s arrival in the morning room. When Cassie came to greet him, Jack merely glanced over his shoulder with a “Hullo, where’d you come from?” His hand sneaked across the table to lift the corners of her cards.

  “Hope you’re not playing for money, Cass,” Lewis murmured.

  “Oh no. Pebbles. How is Anna?” she asked as they returned to the table.

  “Anna who?” Jack wanted to know.

  Anna Spain,” Lewis replied. “Do you remember her from London?”

  “Of course I do.” Jack frowned at his cards. “Four to the queen.” Lewis could not tell that he remembered London, much less one girl within it. Certainly he gave no sign he recalled seeing her in Leeds three weeks ago, or her pregnancy.

  They went for a ride, the same timid affair as their last outing. Jack seemed happy enough to amble down the long drive and up the road a bit, chatting about this and that. Something Maggs had said yesterday, something his mama had said to Cassie at breakfast. His world seemed shrunken to a small window in time and space. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Life would lose much of its richness, but much of its pain, as well.

  They turned off the lane before the bridge and rode alongside the Wrackwater. Iced up at its banks, the narrow open channel ran frigid and sluggish.

  “Used to wade here,” Jack said. “D’you remember that time Cassie slipped and went clean under? Came up at the bridge shiverin’ so hard you could barely understand the curses pourin’ out of her.”

  Lewis squinted at him. “I do.” Is this the same man I played cards with an hour ago? His memory might be fractured but it was not lost. Perhaps it came and went, like the sun playing hide-and-go-seek among the clouds.

  “Those were good times, eh, Lewis?”

  Some of them. Jack had not needed to check his bed or his shoes for the remains of mutilated toads or kittens. Jack had not been blamed for pinching the maids, or mangling his mother’s precious roses, or pissing into Father’s boots as they sat in the hallway. Jack had not watched a dog die by Gideon’s hand—Lewis never passed that spot in the lane without hearing the pup’s agonized cries.

  On the other hand, Jack had not loved a girl. Given his illness, possibly he never would.

  “I’m getting married, Jack.”

  Jack chuckled. “You? Nah. You’re teasing.”

  Lewis guided his horse away from the river, back toward the house. “No, though I don’t blame you for thinking so. I hardly believe it myself.”

  “We’re too young to marry, you’ve said so. What happened?”

  What could he say? A year ago, Jack would have been his confidant, the friend he’d sorely needed to see him through this catastrophe. Now, he doubted Jack was capable of understanding any of it.

  He shrugged. “I fell in love.”

  They passed through a narrow strip of wood in silence and emerged into the long meadow that led uphill to the house.

  “Will you be leaving Wrackwater Bridge?” asked Jack.

  “No. We plan to live here.”

  “I’m glad,” Jack said. “It’s better when you’re here.” He was not so oblivious after all, nor so unfeeling.

  Lewis reached over and grasped Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t get maudlin, old friend.” He gave his horse a kick. “Beat you home!”

  It was not much of a race. Blazing the first trail through a six-inch layer of snow, the nags refused to move faster than a trot, and that only because they knew the stables lay ahead. Lewis let Jack win at the end.

  At dinner that evening, Jack made his announcement. “Lewis is getting married!” Since he was the only one who had not already known of it, he found the results disappointing. He moped, but his revelation freed them all to discuss the topic they’d avoided—at least, certain aspects of it.

  “Miss Spain should do very well at the vicar’s,” Lady Wedbury said. “We can host a dinner party to introduce her.”

  “I appreciate that,” Lewis said. “Perhaps during the week before the wedding? I want her to get plenty of quiet.”

  “Agreed. We might orchestrate a few callers at the vicarage, however. Your parents must do their part as well, Lewis. I thought I would come with you tomorrow and we can make plans with your mother. I owe her a visit in any case. Haven’t seen her since we returned.”

  Bless the woman! “You would be most welcome, ma’am.”

  They found both his parents at home that day before Christmas. His mother’s cool reception of him formed a stark contrast with her effusive warmth toward Lady Wedbury. She feathered a kiss on each cheek and gushed, “My dear, dear friend.” Good heavens, were those tears in her eyes? The tears of a crocodile.

  Lewis spoke to the butler. “Ask my father to join us, please.”

  The ladies seated themselves on the sofa. Lewis sat across from them but didn’t stay there long. Lady Wedbury’s descriptions of London and Bath, and his mother’s envious exclamations, stretched out in the background as he gazed out the drawing room window toward the barren winter gardens, wai
ting for his father to put in an appearance. He realized he was twisting his button and clasped his hands behind him.

  Resigning himself to the unavoidable, he turned toward the fire and the reason he hated this room—the grand portrait of his brother that adorned the wall above. What a fool you are, Gideon. Will you ever realize what you’ve given up?

  His father came in ahead of the tea tray. He bowed to Lady Wedbury and then sat in the chair he always used.

  “Come sit, Lewis. Like a civilized man.” Lewis searched his expression for irony but found none. Only the usual disdain, thinly veiled for company.

  To keep the peace, Lewis sat.

  As soon as the maid had gone, his father started in, interrupting Mother’s question about the Bath assemblies to ask one of his own.

  “Where have you been, Lewis? I was disappointed to hear you’d left town without a word to your mother.” Who did the man think he was fooling? Lewis was certain his mother had nothing to do with it.

  “Indeed? It never occurred to me that you might care. When was the last time you—”

  Lady Wedbury caught his eye, frowning.

  “I left in a hurry. Sir.”

  “So, where did you go? Wherever it was, it looks like someone didn’t like your face.”

  Lewis set down his tea and rose. Forcing himself to speak evenly, he said, “I’m not going to tell you. It’s not your business.” He faced them all, squeezing his hands behind his back until they hurt. His father’s mouth stood open. Shocked into silence, dear Father?

  “I came to inform you that I’ll be marrying next month.”

  His mother’s tea went up the back of her nose. The sneeze that followed sprayed everywhere. Slave that she was to proper comportment, Lewis wondered that she did not die of embarrassment. Her expression said she wanted to.

  Mr. Aubrey pressed himself into his chair, his lips twisted in a sneer. “Phaw! That’s disgusting, Hetty. Can you not keep your secretions to yourself?”

  Lady Wedbury, blotting the mess off Mrs. Aubrey’s gown, sent him a stare that would have frozen a more sensitive man.

  Not Father. “I’m not saying the boy’s pronouncement doesn’t call for a display of derision. Judging by those bruises, either you got caught poaching on someone else’s territory, or you…” His eyes narrowed, his chin jutting forward as though he’d like to add to the damage Gideon had done. “This don’t have anything to do with that…that chit you… Damme, I can’t think of a polite way to say it. But I see you know who I mean. She got her claws in you good, didn’t she, boy? Did she do that to your face? Ha! It’s perfect!”

  Lewis’s mother said, “My dear,” a sotto voce plea. They had company, after all. Lewis felt a knuckle crack behind his back. Considering the tension coiling inside, his voice sounded remarkably cool.

  “You have the who right. Everything else is a figment of your twisted mind. Her name is Anna. She is the daughter of a successful manufacturer—the two of you would get along very well. You’re both crass and…” Lewis quelled his rising ire and returned to the point. “I will move home today, and by the end of January, Anna and the child will become part of this family. After the wedding, we will live in this house for a few months. You will welcome her—”

  Mr. Aubrey jumped up and leaned forward with his fists clenched. Lewis could see every follicle, every pore. “You expect us to welcome a trollop into our home like a—”

  Calm evaporated. “She is my wife! I don’t give a… I don’t care how you feel about it, I don’t care what you say in the privacy of your rooms. In public, and to her face, you will treat her as a respected member of the family.”

  His father’s eyes narrowed to slits. He rasped out, “She’s not your wife yet, by God!” and stomped out of the room.

  Lewis turned his back on the ladies. It had been far easier facing down the Spains. No history, no long-established roles. No future relationship to worry about, either.

  With a groan, Lewis dropped into a chair. Not his father’s chair. He would have been delighted to hack that one to bits, preferably with his father in it.

  “Do you suppose he’s gone to see the vicar?” Lady Wedbury asked.

  Lewis shrugged. “I’m not worried about Redfern. If I thought my father had any influence with the archbishop, I might be concerned.”

  His mother moved the fingers she’d held pressed to her mouth, leaving her lips stark white. She looked frightened as she whispered, “The banns?”

  Lewis shook his head. “There will be no banns. We’re getting a license.”

  “I don’t see that it’s so dire, in that case,” said Lady Wedbury. “There are ways of bringing him round once he finds it’s inevitable.”

  Lewis glowered. “What ways? I’ve nothing to threaten him with.”

  “Don’t think of it as a threat, Lewis. Think of it as persuasion. With our support and the Redferns’, who in this town will stand against you?” She turned to his mother. “Hetty, my dear, with a daughter-in-law to present there will be dinners to host, evening parties, dancing, perhaps skating on the pond. Everyone who matters in Wrackwater Bridge will want to meet her. Are you up to it?”

  As Lady Wedbury spoke, Lewis watched the color return to his mother’s cheeks, a sparkle light up her eyes. His lip curled. For her, such an agenda would be heaven. Was it sufficient to gain her backing? Lewis hardly supposed she could change her husband’s mind. Would she dare oppose him?

  Lewis rode to the vicarage and confirmed that his father had visited and gone away unsatisfied. By the time he returned to the home that had never been home, his belongings had been delivered to his bedchamber.

  As he’d hoped, his father was still out. Spreading his particular brand of poison, no doubt, but it couldn’t be helped. Perhaps he would wear out his temper before Anna arrived.

  If his mother had gone out as well, Lewis would have been happier still. But she poked her head into his room as he stowed his belongings away, perched on the threshold like a rabbit afraid to venture into open ground.

  “What do you want?” He should have closed his door.

  One white hand held tight to the emerald pendant that hung round her neck. He wondered if it was real, and if it was not, whether she knew. “Tomorrow is Christmas,” she said.

  “Another Christmas in the nurturing bosom of my family.”

  A blush rose, ugly beneath her cosmetics. Almost, he apologized for the acid in his tone.

  “I thought we might talk? While he… While he’s out?” Her words hurried and stalled and rushed forward, unsure whether they wanted to be said.

  Lewis’s brows twitched together, wary. Had his father set her to some game to be played in his absence? Playing a role without a chance to learn her script?

  “Might we…talk here?”

  He raised his eyebrows and nodded a cautious assent. She glanced up and down the hallway before whisking herself in and closing the door. All very peculiar.

  He gestured toward the single hard chair. Unaccountably, she dragged it across the bare wood floor toward the window. He placed it where she indicated with a good view of the stable yard below and seated himself on the bed, watching her gaze flitter around the room.

  “This won’t do.”

  “For two?” Lewis snorted. “No.” It had none of the fittings a lady should have, and no room for them. The bed was too narrow. And the chimney smoked, as it always had.

  “Perhaps the two adjoining chambers in the east corridor? They’re the largest, but they’re…” She paused, her fingers pressed to her lips.

  “Too close to Father.”

  She raised horrified eyes to his. With the barest hint of a nod, she turned to glance out the window.

  “I thought we would use the room across the hall, and I can keep this for my dressing room. The nursery’s just upstairs.” And well insulated from the main part of the house, with little sound passing in either direction.

  “If there’s anything missing, give a list to Mrs. Timki
ns. She can often get what she needs…from him.”

  Who was this woman in his room, this timid thing subservient to both husband and housekeeper? She always followed Father’s lead.

  But then, when did he ever see her alone? His father was always there, chiding, patronizing, laughing at her in the indulgent way that set Lewis’s teeth on edge, pretending concern for her feelings as he’d done this morning. When his father left the house, she hid away in her own rooms. Did she ever go anywhere without him?

  Her gaze flicked again to the window. “Tell me about Anna.” The name was only a whisper as she leaned toward him, imploring.

  “What do you want to know?” He didn’t trust her with any information at all.

  She shrugged, a helpless gesture. “I always wanted a daughter.”

  Lewis grunted. “I don’t fancy the idea of a girl growing up under Father’s thumb.”

  Another glance of horror. Had she never thought of it that way?

  She looked down at her hands crumpling the silk of her skirts. “Is she pretty?”

  Lewis took a long moment to weigh his response. Then he untied the portfolio that lay on the bed beside him. Standing, he positioned himself to block his mother’s view of its contents. He found the drawing he wanted—a smiling one—and placed it in her hands.

  Tears glinted in her eyes. “She’s lovely.”

  Nodding, he retrieved the paper and tucked it carefully among the others. “Pay no attention to what Father says. She’s not at all like that. She— We were foolish. Then she left London and I let her go. So I was doubly foolish.” It was his first time telling the story they’d concocted for public consumption. He would stress his foolishness, and Anna would emphasize hers for not informing him she was with child. Then they would gaze at each other, fond and rueful. After a year or two, maybe it would cease to matter to anyone at all, including themselves.

  He asked, “How do you feel about a granddaughter?”

  She jumped, dragging her focus back from the yard. “Oh! It’s a girl? I don’t know why I thought… When will we meet them?” He couldn’t tell if she was eager or terrified.