Summer Folly

by Kruger, Mary

  The wedding breakfast was joyful and noisy, with all their friends crowding into the drawing room and drinking toast after toast to the newly-married couple. In the midst of the celebration Anne had little chance to talk with Giles, but occasionally their eyes would meet across the room, his sending her a message too potent to be ignored. Soon, she thought. Soon.

  At length it was time for the newlyweds to start on their brief wedding journey. Beth began up the stairs to change into her traveling ensemble, and the guests crowded into the hall to watch her go. Halfway up she stopped, ready to toss her bouquet to the small group of unmarried girls who had gathered under the stairs. Then, scanning the crowd, she hesitated.

  “Go!” Felicity hissed in Anne’s ear, pushing her toward the stairs.

  Anne stumbled, off-balance, and caught at the wall to save herself. “But I’ve been married!”

  “You’re a widow. Go! Beth wants you to catch the bouquet.”

  “What?” Anne said, but Felicity’s hands were at her back, pushing her through the girls to the very front of the group. People murmured around her, some in resentment, and she looked up to see Beth, smiling with satisfaction. No, Anne mouthed at her, but the same mischief that sometimes appeared in Giles’s eyes gleamed in Beth’s. With a pitch that would have done a cricket player proud, she hauled her arm back and threw the bouquet straight at Anne. Other hands grabbed out at it, other girls surged forward for it. Instinct made Anne throw up her arms, to protect her face. Instinct made her catch the flowers when they touched her hands, instinct, and something else. Suddenly she very badly wanted this bouquet, and what it symbolized. Her fingers caught at the trailing silk ribbons before the bouquet could fall to the floor, caught and held. She hauled it up, until she was holding it close, like a bride. Someone in the crowd laughed, and someone near her muttered in disappointment. She didn’t care. Looking up, she smiled at Beth. There was a certain inevitability about this. It was another step in the long journey that would, at last, bring her back to Giles.

  Beth turned to continue up the stairs, and the small moment of drama was over. The guests broke up into smaller groups, talking and chatting. Anne stood, smiling down at the flowers. Her own hurried wedding hadn’t been like this at all. There had been no guests, no music, no flowers, only the minister and his wife, to stand as witness. If she married again—when she married again—she would do things properly.

  “So,” a voice said beside her, cold and stern, and Anne looked down to see Julia. “I suppose you think now you are going to marry my son.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Anne caught her breath. In the midst of all the gaiety and happiness, Julia sounded as malicious and venomous as ever. Looking down at her, though, Anne saw something in Julia’s eyes she’d never noticed there before: bewilderment, bravado, unhappiness. Above all else was fear. Fear of what, Anne didn’t know, but she could guess. It made her voice soften with compassion when she spoke.

  “You and I need to talk,” she said, taking Julia’s arm.

  “Indeed we do, madam.” Julia didn’t budge. “However, you know what I think of you.”

  Anne glanced quickly past her. Several people were gazing at them with interest. This was not a conversation she wanted to have before witnesses, for both their sakes. “I’ll speak with you in private later. I don’t wish to ruin Beth’s day.”

  Julia’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “Very well, madam. We’ll talk when Elizabeth is gone.”

  The newlyweds left a little while later in another shower of rice, Beth looking radiant in a traveling dress of sky blue, Thomas handsome in a well-cut coat of dark blue superfine. Guests and well-wishers ran after their carriage, and then they were gone. The wedding was over. Slowly the guests began to drift away, until only the family and a few friends were left.

  The people sitting in the drawing room were quiet, pleasantly tired and lost in thought. “A fine wedding,” Felicity said, finally. “Beth looked so beautiful. Though doesn’t it feel strange without her here?”

  Giles, standing at the mantel, smiled. “We’ll have her back soon,” he said, his eyes meeting Anne’s with such warmth that she had to look away. Everything had changed. Beth would return, of course, while her husband went off to fight, but she would be different. There was also the little matter of what was between her and Giles. The thought made Anne tingle with excitement and anticipation.

  “I am tired,” Julia declared, rising with some difficulty. “Weddings can be difficult affairs. Help me upstairs, Anne.”

  Giles moved away from the mantel. “Mother, let me—”

  “I want Anne.” Julia’s chin was raised.

  “It’s no trouble, Giles,” Anne murmured, crossing the room. She was aware that Giles was regarding her with surprise, but she ignored him. For now.

  “You have a good, strong arm,” Julia said as the two moved off, out of the room and toward the stairs.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Anne murmured, amused. It was the first time Julia had ever said anything the least complimentary to her.

  “It comes of working on a farm, I suppose.”

  “Probably. Here, mind that step, we don’t want you falling.” Slowly they took the stairs, Julia leaning heavily on the younger woman, and at last reached her sitting room. Julia was old, Anne realized again. Old, and the world was changing all around her.

  “There, ma’am.” Anne bent to place a stool under Julia’s feet as she sat. “Shall I ring for your maid?”

  Julia glared at her. “I don’t need your pity, madam.”

  “I wouldn’t dare pity you, ma’am.” Anne crossed the room to close the door, and then sat facing the duchess. For a moment they eyed each other, taking their measure. Julia was old, yes, Anne thought, but still well in control of her faculties. Underestimating her would be a mistake. She was still a formidable enemy. Except, Anne thought, she no longer wanted to fight with this woman. “Well, ma’am?”

  “I owe you an apology,” Julia said, abruptly. “I never meant your son to be hurt.”

  Impulsively Anne reached over and laid her hand on Julia’s cool, wrinkled one. “I know. I know you care about Jamie.”

  “Hmph.” Julia glared down at Anne’s hand, making Anne feel as if she had been inordinately impertinent. “If your son behaved as he should, nothing would have happened to him.”

  “Jamie is only a boy.”

  “Hmph. And you are much too indulgent a mother.”

  “I—!” Anne stared at her. “You dare to criticize the way I raise my child?”

  “My son would never have done the things your son has.”

  “Your son did,” Anne said, recovering her sense of humor. “Or have you forgotten?”

  “Giles is a good boy.”

  “Giles is a man.” Anne’s voice was gentle. “Just as Beth is a woman. It’s time to let them go, don’t you think?”

  Julia looked away. “I had three sons,” she said, finally. “Three sons, and two daughters. Losing my two babies was hard enough, but when Edward died...” Her voice trailed off.

  Anne’s fingers tightened together. “I can’t imagine it, ma’am. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to Jamie. When I realized he was missing that night—” Her voice cracked. “I think you must be very brave, to carry on as you have.”

  “One does what one has to.” She looked at Anne then, no longer a disagreeable old woman, but a mother. “My children mean everything to me. I would do anything I have to to keep them from harm. Anything, d’you hear?”

  “I understand. But they’re grown now.”

  “Hmph. They still need my guidance.”

  “They need to make their own mistakes, and learn from them.” Anne paused. “As I did.”

  Julia raised her quizzing glass. It was, Anne supposed, meant to intimidate her, but she would not give in. She looked right back, and Julia was the first to look away.

  “You always were a flighty girl. Not the kind to make a good duchess.�
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  “Giles is a man. He needs more than a duchess. And pray don’t tell me, ma’am, that people in our station don’t require love. I lived in a loveless marriage. I know what it’s like.”

  “I suppose you expect me to apologize for that, too.”

  “Oh, no,” Anne said, making Julia look at her in surprise. “I will admit I was angry when I learned what you’d done, but it wasn’t all your fault. If I’d stayed and confronted Giles, instead of running away, I never would have married Freddie. But I would not give up my years in Jamaica, and I certainly would not give up Jamie.”

  There was a gleam in Julia’s eyes that Anne couldn’t quite identify. “You’ve got spirit, girl. I’ll give you that. So you’re not scared of me, eh?”

  “No. At least, not anymore.”

  Julia cackled and, to her own surprise, Anne smiled. “You’ll do, girl, you’ll do. I still don’t think you’re right for Giles,” she said, very direct.

  “Why not?” Anne asked, equally direct.

  “You’re still flighty. You’ll distract him, girl. Giles has duties and responsibilities.”

  “He also has a life, ma’am. He’d never ignore what he sees as his duty, but there’s more to life than that.” Anne leaned forward. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that, have you? Don’t you remember what it’s like to be young? To want to enjoy life, and to live every day to its fullest? Giles needs that, ma’am. He is the duke, yes, but he is also a man.”

  “I’m sure I never neglected my duty, miss.”

  “No, and I’m sure that you never allowed anyone to tell you what to do, either.”

  Julia stared at her, and then let out another cackle. “You’re in the right. Went my own way, as much as I could. These milk and water misses today—bah. At least you’re not like them, I’ll give you that.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  “Oh, it’s a compliment, girl. I’ve always rather liked you, you know.”

  “You’re bamming me!”

  “Oh, no. I like a girl with spirit.”

  “Good heavens.” Anne stared at her. “If you feel that way about me, why were you so opposed to my marrying Giles?”

  Julia looked away, and her voice when she spoke was barely a whisper. “Because you would have taken him away from me.”

  Anne sat back, stunned. Julia feared her. All these years Anne had thought her a monstrous old woman. Julia had fought as hard as she had, because she was afraid. “I suppose I would have,” she said, finally.

  “And you still would.”

  “No.” Anne shook her head. “No. Seven years ago I was young and foolish and probably selfish. I’m not the same girl I was, then. I’ve learned a lot. I would never come between a mother and her child.” She paused. “So long as that mother didn’t come between my husband and me.”

  “You’re telling me not to interfere, missy?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am telling you exactly that.”

  “Hmph. You’d have me believe, I suppose, that you wouldn’t do all you could to protect your son.”

  “Of course I would, but—”

  “But me no buts. You don’t show it, missy, but you’re as possessive a mother as I am.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Aren’t you? Oh, yes, I know you’ve opposed every plan Giles has made for James. Well, it’s high time you faced the truth. James will need an education, and he’ll need to be acquainted with his peers. He can’t get either in some colony.”

  “But that is where he will live—”

  “Hmph. You don’t want to give him up, that’s what it is. And you tell me I should let go.”

  “I—” Anne began, and stopped, staring at her. “I’m doing what’s best for him.”

  Julia smiled, grimly. “Precisely. And you won’t admit that someone else might have better ideas.”

  Anne jumped up and paced to the window, her hands balled into fists at her side. “He’s my son.”

  “So he is. And someday he’ll be a man who’ll need more than you can give him. As my son needs more than I can give.” Her voice softened. “Easy to tell someone else how to raise her children, isn’t it?”

  Anne turned from the window, her eyes looking blind. “I—my God. I never thought I’d be saying this, but you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right. I usually am.” Julia put her hands on the arms of her chair and, with much creaking of her stays, pushed herself to her feet. “I am tired. Ring for my maid, girl.”

  “Yes, of course,” Anne murmured, crossing to the bellpull. “I—you’ve given me a great deal to think about.”

  “Good. You don’t know everything, do you, missy?”

  “No.” Anne laughed. “You are a terrible old woman.”

  “I know. And don’t you forget it.”

  “Oh, I won’t.” The smile Anne gave her, though, was warmer than any she’d exchanged with Julia in the past. For the first time, she understood the other woman. The knowledge she had received about herself was harder to assimilate. “Have a good rest, ma’am,” she said, and, curtsying, left the room.

  The house was quiet. Without Anne’s even realizing it, evening had fallen. No longer were the days so long as they had been, a sure sign that autumn was coming. In the dusk, Anne looked into Jamie’s room, to see him sprawled atop the covers of his bed, fast asleep. Poor lamb, he must be worn out from the excitements of the day. She brushed his tangled curls back from his face and bent to kiss him. Her son. Julia was right. She would do anything she had to, to protect him. In most cases, that was as it should be, but not all. Not when her protectiveness turned into overprotectiveness.

  Blinking, Anne resisted the temptation to haul Jamie into her arms and rock him back and forth. He wouldn’t welcome it. He was her son, but he was also a person, and that was what she had forgotten. Strange, she thought, at last going to her own room, that it was Julia, of all people, who’d made her see it. Sinking down in her chair, she shuddered. She had so nearly made the same mistakes as Julia had. She would have held her son fast, doing everything for him in her need to provide him with the happy family life she had never had, and what would have happened? She would have lost him. Already Jamie was independent-minded enough to mind when she interfered; how much more so would he be when he was grown? She would, someday, have to let him go, and she had to start now.

  Leaning her head back against her chair, she smiled. Lord, what a day it had been. First the wedding, emotional as that had been, followed by that mysterious, wordless exchange with Giles. Now, this. Nothing she had held true seemed quite right anymore. If Giles had changed this summer, becoming more open and light-hearted, then so had she. She had learned some truths about herself, and about others, that weren’t always pleasant. Giles had not betrayed her; Julia was not wicked; and she, herself, had made her life what it was. She had no one else to blame now, or in the future, for how she lived.

  Someone, probably her maid, had brought in the bridal bouquet and laid it on the dressing table. Spying it, Anne rose and crossed to pick it up, burying her face in the fragrant blossoms. So she was to be the next bride. Amazing. Not so astounding as it once might have seemed, though. She loved Giles, with her whole heart and soul and body; she always had. The thought of leaving him was intolerable. The only question was, did he love her? He wanted her; that she knew. But love, that was a very different matter. She would not willingly enter into a loveless relationship again.

  There was more noise in the house as Anne descended the stairs. Though the guests had gone, she could hear the servants in the hall below, chattering as they cleaned. Anne glanced quickly into the drawing room, already neat and tidy, and turned away, disappointed. Not a sign of Giles, when she wanted so badly to see him. She would simply have to look someplace else, and that might be difficult, with the servants about. She spun on her heel, and came up against Giles.

  For a moment, she couldn’t move. She was caught, held, by the burnished silver glow in his eyes, gazing down at h
er. It was quite improper, really, for them to stand like this, her breasts pressed against his chest, her thighs against his, feeling their hard-muscled strength. Quite improper, with the servants just downstairs, but she didn’t want to move. Then Giles stepped back, a little smile on his face.

  “Anne, the servants,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, and she spun around, deeply and unaccountably hurt. Why must he mock her, after all that had happened between them today? What, though, had happened? Nothing, really. An exchange of glances. Deep, soul-searing glances, true, but only glances. A brief touch. Something that was almost, but not quite, an embrace. And a bouquet tossed, and caught. Nothing but dreams and fancies. Nothing had changed. She had been foolish to think it had.

  “Annie.” Giles’s hand rested on her shoulder, and she stilled. “Don’t go.”

  “I—came down for a book.”

  “The book-room is downstairs.”

  “Then I’ll go—”

  “No. Keep me company for a moment.” His hand slipped down to her elbow, the caress sending shivers through her. Dazed, she allowed him to escort her into the drawing room and close the door behind them.

  “I really should see how Jamie is,” she managed to protest as he steered her over to the sofa.

  “Jamie is asleep.” Giles turned from the table, where he was pouring each of them a drink. “Sherry, my dear?”

  “Yes. How do you know that about Jamie?”

  “I looked in on him.”

  “He’s my son, Giles.”

  “I never said otherwise.”

  “You—oh.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead. “Forgive me, but I just had the most extraordinary interview with your mother.”

  Giles paused, and then handed her a crystal goblet of sherry. “Is that where you were?”

  “Yes, for part of the time. Were you looking for me?”

  “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.” He sat beside her, so close that she would have shifted away from him, except that she was already sitting in the corner. “What did you speak of?”