by Lori Wick
Levens Crossing
“Well, Anne,” her father greeted her in delight the next morning, “you’re back from your honeymoon trip.”
Anne laughed as she accepted his hug, thinking that some things never changed.
“How are you, Father?”
“I’m well, very well. My ship just returned, so I’m still finding my land legs.”
He chuckled at his own little joke as Anne joined him at the table. It didn’t look as if this was the day to question him on spiritual matters. She wanted to leave this with the Lord, but her heart knew a moment of disappointment.
“Where did you go on your trip, Anne? I can’t recall.”
“London,” she answered, even though they were not talking about the same thing. “We visited Mr Weston’s mother.”
“How is that dear lady?”
“She’s very well.” Anne ignored the fact that the two had never met. “How is your head, Father? Is it mended?”
The Colonel gave his daughter a look that said she’d lost him, so she dropped the subject. A noise came from the other room right about then, and the Colonel stood.
“Do we have company?”
“It’s just the maid, Father,” Anne said and then held her breath.
“Oh, very good. Maybe you and I could have a drop of tea while she cleans.”
Anne was more than happy to make it and pour out. The two of them talked while they drank, two hours passing very swiftly, and all the Colonel did was ramble. When Anne finally took her leave, the house was cleaner, but there had been no occasion to ask her father about his trips to see Pastor Hurst. Anne was forced to leave the business of her father’s eternity in God’s more capable hands.
Brown Manor
Mr Weston was still not home on Friday. Anne did not actually expect him, but she was hopeful. The little girls, however, were to arrive at any time. Cook was working on a splendid tea, with special food planned with children in mind, but first they would start in the garden, each with a basket, to pick flowers to their hearts’ content. Anne could hardly bear the excitement and found herself even more excited when the girls’ fathers dropped them off and each one stayed for a moment to visit.
“How are you?” Palmer asked, once he’d kissed Anne’s cheek.
“I’m very well. Weston is traveling, and I wanted some company. I do thank you for loaning me the girls.”
“Our pleasure. Liddy wants you to visit soon.”
“Tell her I shall. I’m going to drop Penny home last today so I can see their baby, but I’ll come to Tipton to visit soon.”
When the fathers had gone their way and the young ladies were in the garden, the laughter and fun began. Flowers were delighted over and traded, plans were made for nosegays for their mothers, and sighs could be heard from Margaret, who thought Anne’s gardens were the most beautiful in the world.
Their tea was an unqualified success as well. The girls were good eaters, and after a tour of Brown Manor, all loaded into the carriage for the ride home. Anne was good at her word, taking Penny home last. Jennings met them at the door of Thornton Hall, distracted Penny, and allowed his wife and new baby to have Anne all to themselves.
“Oh, Marianne, she’s beautiful.”
Marianne smiled as she watched Anne holding her four-week-old daughter, knowing she couldn’t disagree.
“I can tell she’s a good baby.”
“She is. She only fusses when she’s wet or hungry. She doesn’t even demand to be held.”
“Which means you’ll have to find other excuses.”
Marianne laughed because it was quite true.
“How were the girls today?”
“Adorable. We had such fun.”
“Did Penny remember to thank you?”
“She certainly did. We ate some fruit from the compote she picked out, and I could tell she was delighted to see me using it.”
“Lydia had just the medicine that day to take Penny’s mind from Catherine’s imminent birth. When they arrived back, all Penny could talk of was how Lydia had allowed her to pick out your gift.”
Anne looked up at her friend. “We’ve had so many gifts, Mari—not just from the church family but from townspeople. I’ve been surprised.”
“But pleased too?”
“Very pleased, but I somehow thought that everything I did lately met with the town’s disapproval. It’s been a very pleasant surprise.”
“I’m still not getting out much yet, but when I do venture, I plan to visit you and see all your gifts.”
“I would love that, Mari. Please plan on it.”
“How long will Weston be away?”
“He didn’t say, but Banbury is a good journey, so it might be several more days.”
“Do you miss him?”
Anne studied the baby’s small head, stroking her smooth, tiny brow before looking up.
“Very much.”
“It’s startling when your heart becomes involved, isn’t it?” Marianne read correctly.
“Yes.” Anne was so relieved to have someone understand. “Everything takes on a new meaning, a new dimension.”
“But your situation is far harder, Anne. You’re already married to Weston and living together. With Jennings I could go home and have peace and privacy to iron out my thoughts and emotions. You might not have that luxury.”
Anne looked thoughtful. “Maybe his absence has been good for that. I have done a good deal of thinking with this time on my own.”
“Is there fear, Anne? Are you afraid to fall in love with him but not have that love returned?”
“Yes, but I’ve asked the Lord to help me not hold back. I might end up having my heart bruised, but I can’t use that as an excuse.”
“So you think you love him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what it feels like. Does your heart ache and feel elated all at the same time? Do you feel frightened and ready to take the world on all in one moment? Do you feel more vulnerable than you have in all your life?”
“Yes, Anne. All that and more.”
Tears rushed to Anne’s eyes. “Please pray for me, Mari.”
“I do, my friend, every day.”
Marianne leaned close and hugged Anne, baby and all. The two visited for the next hour, Anne with questions, and Marianne with as much help as she could give. By the time Anne left Thornton Hall, she was more determined than ever to give her whole heart to Weston. Indeed, she knew nothing else would work.
Anne felt something akin to sadness creep over her as the carriage took her home from church. She had honestly believed that Weston would be home before now, and she was growing a little blue over his absence. For this reason Anne wasn’t paying much attention as she entered the front door and walked through the large foyer. She mounted the stairs for her room, her mind far away. She was almost to her room when she spotted him.
“Hello,” Weston said softly. Having arrived tired and dusty, he’d been home only an hour, immediately calling for a bath. He meant to be on the drive when Anne’s carriage pulled up, but he’d not made it downstairs in time.
“You’re home,” Anne approached, doing nothing to disguise her pleasure.
“I’m home. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How was your trip?”
“It turned out very well. Both property owners are happy, and I sold my land.”
Anne smiled. “I’m glad.”
Weston’s heart thundered over what he read in Anne’s eyes. He picked up her hand and led her to the nearest door, his own bedroom. He took them inside and shut the door.
“I missed you,” Anne said, barely aware that they had moved.
“I missed you,” Weston told her, both hands now holding hers.
“Did you really?”
“I thought of you constantly.”
Anne gave a little laugh.
“All these servants, and the manor was lonely without you.”
“Newbury Inn felt empty without you.”
“You stayed there?”
“Yes.” Weston’s gaze had taken on an intense gleam and his voice dropped. “I couldn’t help but remember the night we shared a room. I recalled how soft and unbound you felt when I lifted you from the floor to put you in my bed.”
Anne’s gaze softened.
“I never did find out how long your hair was.”
Anne bit her lip in a moment of insecurity and then grew bold. Using both hands she reached up and pulled the pins from her hair. She let the tresses fall around her shoulders and back as her husband watched.
Weston’s sigh was audible as he touched her long, dark hair, circling around to her back to finger the thick length. And then with his chest to her back, he put his arms around her and whispered close to her ear.
“Anne, I’m in love with you.”
Anne wasted no time in turning to him. She looked up, searching his eyes closely before putting her hands on his chest and entreating, “Will you kiss me goodbye again?”
Weston’s laughter sounded in the room before his head lowered to find her lips with his own. In but a moment Anne was swept into what felt like a vortex of excitement, emotion, and pleasure. Between kisses, husband and wife confessed their love to each other over and over again, laughing over how it had happened and how swiftly the time had come.
There was so much they would share in the days and months ahead, but not just now. Now was a time for discovery, just between the two of them, husband and wife, in love and delighted with the wonder of each other.
Chapter Twenty
“Good morning,” Anne said to Weston from the edge of his bed.
Weston who had been stirring, smiled as he opened his eyes all the way. The two looked at each other for a moment.
“Was it just yesterday afternoon that I told you I loved you?” Weston asked, his voice holding that early morning growl.
“Yes.”
Weston took her hand. “It feels much longer.”
Anne smiled at him, but he noticed her dress before she could speak.
“What time is it?”
“After ten.”
“That late? Are you headed out?”
“I didn’t see my father all weekend, so I thought I should check on him.”
“Have you eaten?”
Anne laughed. “Long ago. You were sleeping soundly when I left.”
“I was tired,” he told her with an inviting gleam in his eye.
It was all so new for Anne that she blushed, but she was pleased nonetheless.
“Shall I come with you?” he offered, taking pity on her red face.
“No.” She stood but kept holding his hand. “I won’t be long, and you haven’t eaten.”
Weston pulled her close to kiss her.
“I love you,” she told him, still marveling at how sweet it was to say.
“Hurry back,” he told her, and Anne exited with plans to do just that.
Levens Crossing
The carriage driver helped Anne from the interior of the coach and handed her the food basket he’d taken up top with him.
“Do you wish me to take that inside for you, Mrs Weston?”
“I have it, Bert. Thank you. I won’t be long.”
Bert began to work on his lines as she walked away from him. One strap was a bit twisted, and Dodger had been living up to his name on the ride over. Bert was still adjusting the strap, working near the horse’s head, when Anne rushed up to him.
“Please,” she gasped, clutching at his arm desperately. “Please find Mr Weston, please!”
“I will, Mrs Weston!” Bert began to turn away but thought better of it. “I don’t want to leave you, Mrs Weston. Will you come?”
“No. Please, Bert, just find my husband.”
Bert read the pain in her eyes and did as he was told. He worked Dodger as he’d not worked him before in an effort to reach Brown Manor in a hurry.
Anne watched him drive away and in a daze headed for the small stone bench at the front of the house and sank onto it. It had rained earlier that morning, and while she felt the damp seep into her dress, she didn’t give it a thought.
Time ceased to move. Anne’s thoughts traveled in every direction in the next 30 minutes. Without a clue as to how long she’d been sitting there, she stared in wonder as the coach pulled up and her husband bounded from inside. He was at her side in an instant, seeing his wife cry for the first time.
“Anne, what is it?”
“My father, Weston,” she cried softly. “He’s dead.”
Weston’s eyes closed even as he pulled Anne from the seat and held her in his arms. He stroked her hair and kissed her brow before helping her to sit back down.
“Stay right here,” he commanded before going into the house on his own. He wasn’t gone long, and when he exited, he went directly to Bert with instructions.
The manse was closer than Brown Manor, so Anne was taken there. Weston saw her settled with Judith before both he and Pastor began working on the arrangements.
“I can’t stop trembling,” Anne said as Judith wrapped another quilt around her.
“It’s all right. Phoebe is making tea. You tremble and cry all you wish.”
“Judith, do you think…”
“I don’t know, Anne,” she gently told her when Anne let the sentence hang. “I only know that God wanted your father to come to Him far more than any of us did.”
The younger woman nodded, huddling into the blanket a little deeper and asking God to help her think clearly during this time, to remember all the blessings in her life and all the years she shared with her father.
Thoughts of her father caused fresh tears to flow. Judith sat with her, not talking overly much but being close and praying out loud every so often. Anne dozed after a time, waking when Weston arrived back and put his arms around her. They were alone in the room, and Anne stared at him for a moment.
“Do you think he had been gone very long?”
“No, and neither does Dr Smith. He thinks it was some time just last night.”
Anne nodded, fresh tears coming to her eyes.
“I’m glad he was safe in bed, Weston, and not fallen and helpless.”
“That is a comfort. I didn’t tell you how sorry I am. If it wasn’t for your father, I might not have gotten to know you. I’m very sorry you’ve lost him.”
Overcome, Anne let Weston hold her for a long time. She sobbed against him, but then she felt as if she would choke on her own tears and tried to stop.
“My heart feels broken in two,” she admitted, tears still on her face. “I didn’t know it would feel this way. I mourned my mother as a child. This is so different.”
“I imagine it is, and someday you’ll need to comfort me in the same way for my mother.”
“Weston!” Anne said suddenly, grasping his coat front with urgency. “What would I have done if you hadn’t been here? What if we hadn’t married?”
Weston held her close.
“You need not worry about that. You do have me, and you’re going to have me for a very long time.”
Anne realized the foolishness of her questions and knew her emotions were on the verge of spinning out of control. Another change had come into her life, not one that was comforting and lovely like being married to Weston and living at Brown Manor, but one that made her feel as vulnerable as a child.
“We need to talk with Pastor about what day you want the funeral. Shall I get him?”
“Yes, please.”
In the hour that followed plans were made. Anne held together very nicely, but by the time she arrived back at Brown Manor, she had a headache and was ready to lie down.
Not until she rose from her nap did she find out how swiftly word had traveled. Notes—with more servants arriving each hour—were delivered from the church family and townspeople all day. Anne would often cry at the sweet memories that were shared or on hearing that someone was praying for her.
That evening the Palmers came
, and Anne was ready for the company. Lydia hugged her and began talking about the girls.
“They had such a good time with you last week, Anne. It was all they could talk about.”
“We did have fun,” Anne admitted. “They all love flowers, which endears them to my heart.”
“Your gardens are spectacular,” Lydia said. “I’m jealous of your kitchen garden.”
“I’m so glad you said something, Liddy. We have a wealth of herbs just now. May I send some with you?”
“Yes, please. We would enjoy that.”
“I’ll tell Mansfield right now so I don’t forget.”
While Anne went to ring the bell, Weston caught Lydia’s eye and spoke softly.
“Thank you for not talking about her father.”
“Did she get our note earlier today?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“What day is the funeral?” Palmer asked before Anne could come back.
“Wednesday.”
As Anne returned to the group, Weston asked how schooling was going for the Hurst, Palmer, and Jennings children. The report was all good, with the occasional mix of humor, which was always to be expected with children.
The friends didn’t stay much longer, but their visit was the tonic Anne and Weston needed. They were tired and emotionally worn. Having Palmer and Lydia come in an undemanding way and visit for a time without mentioning the Colonel made it easier for Anne to retire. Her father was on her mind, but not in an all-consuming way.
Jenny settled her in for the night, but she was still awake when Weston entered from the adjoining door. When he climbed into Anne’s bed and put his arms around her, Anne held him right back and fell sound asleep.
“Thank you for coming. Thank you.”
Weston and Anne uttered the words over and over again on Wednesday morning in the churchyard to the folks who had gathered for Colonel Gardiner’s funeral and burial. He had been dressed as he ever was: full regimentals, his hat in the crook of his elbow, his sword at his side.
As planned, Pastor Hurst handled the sermon. He did so with honesty, tact, and compassion. Anne thought she would never forget his closing words.