by Matilda Hart
Chapter 1
It was an exceptionally clear and bright Saturday morn in Ashmeade Bottom, and Annabelle Tracy walked with a spring in her step. She carried a heavy basket, filled with newly dyed fabric to be laundered before being made into fancy gowns for the fancy ladies. Her mother was the village’s seamstress, who also wove and dyed cloth for her clients. The work was never-ending, and though it paid well, it was not constant, as many of the fancier set bought their apparel in London. She smiled as she walked along, feeling the joy of her youth despite the hardships she endured. She had her dreams, and they were often enough to keep the doldrums at bay.
Some day, she often daydreamed, she would meet her Prince Charming, and he would sweep her off her feet, and away from the life of drudgery she was forced to live at the present time. She would go to balls and wear fancy costumes and be feted and adored by her peers. Her good fortune would help her parents live a better life, and she would bear her love healthy, happy little children who would never have to work a day in their lives as she had to do. She chuckled as she thought of her dream. Her sister older Lavender often called her a dreamer, and admonished her about the sin of envy.
“It is envy that makes you dream of things above your station,” she would often say, “and it does not bode well for you, Anna. You must forget these silly daydreams of yours, and find a worthy man in the village to marry.”
It was easy for Lavender to talk like that. She was already a married woman at twenty and three, and her work as the assistant to the village midwife gave her much more exposure to the townspeople and to others in outlying villages. Lavender had always been the steadier head between the two sisters, and Anna had not been at all surprised when she had married the second son of the local vicar. She had no such expectations for herself, though. No young man had come calling, nor even displayed any interest in her once she came of age, and she knew that part of the reason was that she showed no interest in any of them, either. She had a dream, though she had no idea of ever fulfilling it.
She stopped in the shade of a large oak to rest, lowering the basket of linens, and leaned against the trunk, startling the squirrel that had been nibbling his acorn there. She laughed gaily as she watched the bushy-tailed creature scramble further up the tree, away from her, and settle in to eat his treat. She wished her life could be so simple. She did not wish to spend the rest of her life trapped in a town with people who were happy to live as they did, and had no dream of doing more.
She thought she heard a sound as of a horse neighing, but when she swung around to look, she saw nothing untoward. Staring around her for a minute more, she clucked her tongue and, picking up her burden, resumed her way to the river bend where she set about washing the fabric. She sang as she worked, concentrating on her task, and spreading each swath of cloth out to dry as she finished it. After almost two hours, her work was done, and all that was left was to wait for them to dry half way before she had to pack them up and return to her house to finish the drying process, so that she could iron them for her mother to use. The crackle of a branch as she leaned quietly against the tree closest to the water had her turning her head.
A young man stood there, teetering precariously on unsteady legs. His face was dirty, as were his hands, and she saw that some of it was because he was badly bruised about the cheeks and forearms, and there was a trace of blood beneath his nose, and on his split lip. His clothing, though clearly of expensive cloth and cut, was equally as battered as his person. He stood a moment more, before venturing to move closer to her. Anna considered him thoughtfully. He was definitely the worse for wear, and she had been a bit of a scrapper as a younger girl, so she thought she could handle him if he became boisterous. She had never been afraid of men, no matter their size, and this young man was of a fair size. Taller than she was by a good six inches, wide of shoulder and burly of build, he looked like the sort who could hold his own in any circumstances.
He stopped again when he was quite close to where she sat, and sank to the ground beside her. She kept her gaze upon him, but waited for him to speak.
“Good morrow, fair maiden,” he said, attempting a smile and wincing at the pain it caused. “I hope I have not disturbed your rest with my arrival.”
“Good morrow, sir. And you have not disturbed my rest, for I am not resting, as you can see, but working.” Anna indicated the brightly colored cloths lying about on the rocks.
He cast a careless eye over them, and turned his attention back to her.
“Are you a clothmaker, then?” he inquired. “You are too beautiful for such hard labor.”
Anna laughed, unmoved by his flirtation. “Indeed I am not, sir. I help the local seamstress with her work, and part of that requires me to wash the cloth that she will use to make her most beautiful creations.”
Anna was proud of her mother’s handiwork, and took every occasion to heap fulsome praise upon it. However, she did not think this battered man would care a whit for some unknown woman’s craft. And truth be told, he seemed more in dire need of the attentions of a physician.
“Were you set upon by bandits, milord?” she inquired politely. “If so, our local constable is very able to provide you with assistance.”
The young man smiled again, wincing as the cut on his lip stretched uncomfortably. “I am more in need of help in finding my horse, which threw me and ran off,” he said. “If you could show me the way back to Ashmeade Bottom, I would be most grateful.”
Anna nodded, and assured him that she would be most happy to accommodate him. Then she rose and began to gather the damp cloth, folding them before placing them back in the basket. The young man struggled to his feet, offering to help her, but she politely refused his assistance. She had just washed them, and could not see how he could help but muddy them with his blood and the dirt and leaves that clung to him. However, when he insisted on doing something to repay her kindness, she allowed him to hold one handle of the basket and carry it with her.
They traversed the path in silence for a while, and then he spoke again.
“Surely a beauty such as yourself cannot be without the attentions of every swain in the vicinity. I cannot help but envy the man who has won your affections.”
Anna turned to look at him, blushing at his compliment, but wary of his intentions. Although she was an untried virgin, she knew enough of the machinations of the young men in town to know that this young man was trying his hand at a seduction that she would not allow. He was not a prince, nor even a nobleman. Why, he could not keep his seat on a horse, for starters! She had no wish to entertain one such as he. Better to nip it in the bud. Though she had to admit that even with a split lip and bruised face, he was a striking fellow, and made her wonder what it would be like to be swept up in his arms.
Ignoring that wayward thought, Anna smiled coolly and said, “I have no need of the attentions of any ordinary man, sir. I am happy to remain a maid until the one I seek comes to me.”
“And whom do you seek, Beauty?” he asked.
“My Prince Charming, my knight in shining armor, my champion!”
The young man chuckled. “There is only one Prince, and he is hardly likely to seek a mate in Ashmeade Bottom. Perhaps you should set your sights lower, madam!”
Anna cast him a fulminating glare and sniffed her disapproval of his suggestion. “I will set my sights wherever I please, Sirrah,” she said, adopting the tone of her betters when speaking to cheeky young men. “My ambitions and dreams are of no concern to you!”
“Ah, but they are, spirited one! If I am to put myself in the running for your favors, I must needs eliminate at least some of my competition. Surely someone of your obvious intelligence must see the wisdom of my plan?”
Anna did not trust his tone, which sounded too close to amusement. She did not take kindly to being laughed at, especially not by ragged young men who needed lessons in horsemanship! She harrumphed disdainfully and ignored him for the rest of the way into town. Once they arrived
at the fork where she would turn for home, she turned to him and said,
“The constable will be taking his lunch at this time at the inn. It is called The Feathered Nest, and it is just down here. You cannot miss it.” She turned and picked up the basket, before saying, “Good day to you, sir.” Then she walked away.
Her good mood had been soured by the teasing stranger, and she wished all sorts of plagues upon his person as she made her way back to her house. He had no right to be so accurate in his judgment of her plans, or so honest about their chances of success. What did he know? He was but a man. Her father’s voice behind her shook her out of her angry musings.
“You will have the Council seeking to lock you away if you keep talking to yourself in public, daughter!”
Anna whirled around and almost spilled the contents of her basket, which would have been a catastrophe of enormous proportions, as it would require her to return to the river for a second washing. And that would be a waste of an entire day, which would sour her
mother’s mood.
“Papa, you startled me!” she exclaimed irritatedly.
Henry Tracy laughed heartily, not at all perturbed by his younger daughter’s annoyance. He was a tall, broad-shouldered bear of a man, whose skills as a hunter were renowned in the area. He loved his family, but did not especially understand them.
“Come daughter, let me help you with your load while you tell me what you were doing with that rogue I saw you talking to at the crossroads.”
“Why think you he is a rogue, Papa?” Anna asked, relinquishing her burden. “Mayhap he was just a poor traveler who lost his way.”
“And was he?” her father asked, carrying the heavy basket with expected ease.
“Indeed, sir, he was. His horse threw him,” she added, smirking.
“Ah, that would account for the condition of his face and clothes.”
Henry turned in to their garden, a small but neat affair, and walked around to the back of the house, his daughter trailing behind him. Anna watched her father as he placed the basket on the wide table in the workshop where her mother dyed the cloth, and thought back to the young man whom she had left at the crossroads. He was like her father...strong, humorous, friendly, even if he was opinionated and churlish. She wondered if he had a woman somewhere worrying about him even now, and then chided herself for the thought. It was not her place to think so about a man who laughed at her dreams. She shook off thoughts of his full lips, strong chin, and deep brown eyes, and set to work spreading the damp cloth on the dryers so they could finish drying. Then she went in to help her mother with lunch.
Lavender and her husband George were expected to spend the evening with them, and her mother always put on a spread for them because, as she said, it never hurt to keep one’s house in order. George’s status as the second son of the vicar meant he had access to others of his class and higher, and would no doubt put in a good word for Annabelle, should any enterprising young man of his acquaintance wish to take her on as a wife. Anna did not object. Although she had taken umbrage at the ragged young man’s remarks about her dreams, she knew that he was right, and that she would likely never meet anyone above the station of a second son of the vicar. And though she would never admit it, she secretly wished that she were married and the woman in her own home.
Lavinia Tracy was bustling about in the small kitchen of her home when Anna walked in. “Hurry up, girl!” she said to her daughter. “There is still much to do. Can I leave you to make the pudding while I tend to the stew? The potatoes will be roasted closer to the dinner hour, and I need the extra time to finish the fine stitching on Mrs. Wentworth’s dress. She will send for them by evening.”
“I will do whatever needs doing, Mama!” Anna said, and followed her mother’s directions to begin the pudding.
A quick lunch of bread and cheese fortified her for the work she had to do, and once the pudding was set to bake, she swept the cottage, dusted every nook and cranny, and lay the table for five. Although they were poor, her parents had managed to piece together over many years a mishmash of cutlery and crockery that allowed them to dine like their betters when they occasion called for it. And Lavinia insisted on a formal sit-down dinner at least once a week, usually when her older daughter and her son-in-law were expected.
The house having been set to rights, and dinner almost done, Anna went to see what else her mother needed her to do.
“You can start in on the ironing,” her mother instructed her. “At least those two large white ones. I’ll need them to make Mrs. Patmore’s grandchild’s christening frock.”
Anna went to set another coal on the stove, and placed the iron on it, then collected the white cambric fabric that her mother had indicated and arranged them for ironing. The two women worked silently for a while, until her mother said,
“The Duke of Blanchester is down for the hunting season. Mrs. Patmore thinks he will use your father in his hunts.”
“That will make Papa happy,” Anna said, testing the iron to see how hot it was. “Will there be a large party of guests?”
“I can’t imagine that there wouldn’t be, child. You know how the quality are. They do everything together in droves.”
Her mother chuckled indulgently at the thought, and Anna wondered if there might be a way that she could meet one of those guests. Of course, he would need to be a single man looking for a strong, hardworking girl to marry and bear him children as beautiful as he would be. She had no intention of marrying an unattractive man. The stranger was attractive. She blinked, wondering where that thought had come from. She had hoped to banish the man from her thoughts, but he kept sneaking in when she wasn’t looking. Exasperated with herself, she began to iron the fabric, concentrating on her task in order not to scorch it. Her mother would never forgive her if she did.
“They say he has a son,” her mother said into the silence. “A handsome young man, according to some, and well endowed.”
Anna wondered what her mother meant by that last remark, and asked her so.
“Oh, he is broad of shoulder, tall and strong, with long, thick limbs that some say mean he is a great lover.”
Anna blushed. Her mother, like her father, did not mince words, or try to mask her meaning. She kept her pretense to her Saturday or Sunday dinners with her mismatched china.
“I don’t see what the size of a man’s body has to do with his performance as a lover, Mama!” she ventured to say, and her mother’s gay laughter made her ears burn anew.
“As well you wouldn’t, child. You have no understanding of these matters because you are yet an innocent. Find yourself a good man, and all will be made clear to you.”
Anna held her peace. The talk was making her uncomfortable, despite her dreams of being a woman in her own home. She had not thought too much about that side of things, and really did not know much more than she had heard Lavender and her friends whispering about. And once she had caught her sister unawares when she had gone to visit, and had seen aroused the state of George’s body through his clothing. She had been mortified, and they had been amused. Perhaps she was not as ready to be a woman as she thought, if she was embarrassed by this conversation.
Once the ironing was done, her mother sent her off to wash and dress for dinner. Anna gladly went, wishing, as she braided her long hair, that she had a young man of large proportions to show her what it meant to be a great lover. Sighing, she finished dressing and went out when she heard her sister’s voice. Dinner was always a lively affair when her sister and brother-in-law visited, and in a secret part of her, she envied Lavender the man she had found, and the great affection in which he held her. She could only wish for the same for herself, and hope that she could find such happiness with a man of quality.
Chapter 2
Daniel Banner, Marquess of Aberling, watched indulgently as his youngest sister danced with yet another dashing fellow. Pearl was barely eighteen, but she was already highly sought after among the ton, much to her pa
rents’ delight. She had only just been presented at court, and her debut had been a smashing success. Now they were down for the hunting, and would probably stay beyond that, as his parents found they much preferred the clean fresh air and lack of crowds in the country. His gaze swept the room, and landed on the woman to whom he was shortly expected to propose. A heaviness settled on his shoulders, and he shrugged as though he would remove it. Lady Isabel Whorley was not a particularly striking young woman, and though they were of an age, she did not wear her twenty and eight years well.