by Jane Charles
But first, she needed to call on Mrs. Caldwell. It nearly broke her heart to think of what the kind woman was going through. She had been one of the first women to befriend Anna upon her arrival in Ravenglass. She was a substitute mother during that first year when Anna couldn’t do much more than cry. She’d been mourning her parents, and so homesick for them. Not a home. She’d never really had one until coming to Ravenglass. Her parents were travelers, never staying in one place long enough to set down roots.
Travel was her home, and one day, it would be again. Somehow, someway. The first place she planned on returning to was Florence and David.
She could still see his chiseled features in her mind, except they no longer looked like what Michelangelo created, but a much more handsome David. David Thorn.
As if she conjured him from her memories, Mr. Thorn appeared before her, atop his mare.
Anna shielded her eyes and looked up. “Good day, Mr. Thorn.” Decorum, respectability, virtuousness, she reminded herself. The last impression Mr. Thorn had of her was none of those things and she must make it right.
“Miss Southward.” He hopped to the ground to greet her. “Where might you be off to this fine day?”
“I’m taking a basket of foodstuffs to the blacksmith’s.”
“Might I walk with you?”
She quickly glanced behind her. Good, they were far enough away from the vicarage. It wouldn’t do for her uncle to see her with Mr. Thorn. “It would be very nice if you did just that.”
“Here, let me take that for you.” He held out his hand and indicated to the basket.
“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly and handed it over.
Decorum! Paragon! she repeated silently. No talk of sculpting nude bodies.
No, she argued with herself. She must address the issue. “I wish to apologize, Mr. Thorn.”
“I can think of no reason.”
“I fear I may have shocked or surprised you, and I don’t wish for you to think ill of me.”
“That is not possible, Miss Southward.”
“You see…” Oh, how could she fix what had gone wrong the day at the beach? “I don’t wish for you think me forward.” There, that should be a good beginning. “It’s just that I am an artist, and look upon objects, much as I did the sunrise over the sea to be painted or sculpted. I know that most ladies would not even consider what I mentioned about needing a model. I’m sure it must have shocked you as well, but you need to understand that it is simply for the art, and appreciation of beauty.” Drat, this wasn’t going as well as she’d hoped. Instead of making things better, she was making it worse. “You see, Mr. Thorn, your visage is one that would work well as a subject for my work. That is all and I hope that I did not offend you when I mentioned my need of a model. Your presence simply reminded me of the next type of art I’d like to attempt.”
Anna snuck a look up at him from the corner of her eye. He was staring at her, his jaw slightly slack and his eyebrows raised, as if she’d lost her mind.
Goodness, that did not go well at all. “I understand that such a project would be considered scandalous and I should have held my silence. What I wish to do and what is allowed are two different matters entirely, and something I must come to terms with.”
With a deep sigh, she turned and faced him. “I don’t wish for you to think me forward. I am an honorable and respectable woman. That is all. I have put the thought of sculpting you, or anyone, from my mind.”
There, that should clear matters up and perhaps he would forget those last few minutes on the beach.
“And sketching?” he asked. “Do you intend to continue?”
“Of course. Just because I must give up one form of art does not mean I must give them all up. It is who I am.”
He simply nodded, though a frown remained. She turned and continued walking. Clearly, she had not made it right yet. “Though I’d liked to sculpt,” she added. “Too many people would not think it proper.” She sighed.
“You can understand why they would think so,” Mr. Thorn said.
Drat, he thought her improper. She had ruined everything. Oh, if only she could take back what she had said on the beach, but it was not to be.
“That is because they don’t understand that the subject of an artist, when viewed for the purpose of painting, sketching and sculpting, is no different than say a botanist studying plants, or a physician examining an injury. It is something to be studied and understood. The only reason society takes issue is because a human body is involved and not a leaf.” That was it! The perfect analogy. She turned to grin up at him. “To an artist, they are the same. If I were of a mind to sculpt a leaf, I would look upon it no differently than I would when sculpting the human form.”
“I do believe I am beginning to understand.”
“So, I hope you see that I was not behaving improperly, and I hope that you can forgive anything I might have said to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s already forgiven, Miss Southward.”
His voice was a bit tight and his smile strained, as if he truly didn’t forgive her.
Blast! Well, there was nothing else she could do. If he couldn’t accept her for who she was, she didn’t wish to further their acquaintance anyway. She already had to contend with her judgmental and domineering uncle. The last thing she wished in her life was another gentleman approving and disapproving of what she did and said.
They reached the gate outside of the Caldwell home and Anna turned to Mr. Thorn to offer a quick curtsey. “Thank you for carrying my basket.”
Mr. Thorn bowed and handed it back to her, though a frown still remained on his lips and his eyebrows were drawn together in consternation. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Southward.”
She’d ask why he seemed so bewildered and disturbed, but she could already guess. Mr. Thorn disapproved of her and she should have held her tongue because she clearly only made matters worse. Not better. It was a bit disheartening and depressing. “Good day.” With that, she opened the gate and stepped away from him.
To think for a full year he had been all she could think about. She’d looked forward to seeing him again and couldn’t wait to sketch his features. Then, when he appeared on the beach, it was if all of her dreams had come true. Then she had to go and ruin everything by blurting out what she wished for more than anything. He didn’t approve of her, and that was very clear. It was such a shame.
Chapter 11
“I do not understand Miss Southward,” Thorn finally admitted.
After leaving her at the Caldwells’ he returned to Marisdùn to find Chetwey. He was easy enough to find since he rarely left Brighid’s side and she wasn’t allowed to leave her herbarium.
As he didn’t want to disturb the witch and whatever she was working on, he insisted Chetwey join him outside, in Brighid’s small garden.
“What don’t you understand?”
“Do you remember how I explained about her wishing to sculpt?”
“Yes, you were quite shocked,” Chetwey laughed.
“Well, I assumed the proper young miss was having improper thoughts. I mean, she seemed to practically undress me with her eyes.”
“Which I have pointed out, you have been guilty of, probably more times than I could count, in the past.”
“Yes, well. That wasn’t it. But much worse.”
“How so?” Chetwey asked, his head tilted, studying him with interest.
“I was nothing but a specimen to her.” It was one thing to be offended when he believed she was simply admiring his body, as if the rest of him didn’t matter. To learn she wasn’t even thinking of him as a man, but a damned subject was further insulting.
“I don’t understand.”
“This,” he gestured to his body. “Was not of interest to her any more than a leaf would be to a botanist. Something to be studied.”
“How is that worse than being the object of desire?” Chetwey quirked his lips.
“I’d be no differ
ent to her if I were made of stone.”
“At least now you know she has honorable intentions toward your person.” This time his friend laughed and it was not well done of him.
“I’ll have you know that I am a gentleman, with a mind and a personality and feelings. Not some object to be undressed and studied.”
Chetwey continued to laugh, offering no sympathy whatsoever.
“I’ll have you know, that by the end of the masquerade, Miss Southward will learn that I am more than an object. But a man not to be trifled with.”
* * *
“Poor Mrs. Caldwell,” Anna muttered to herself as she entered the back gardens to Marisdùn. Her tears were spent, but she barely spoke the entire time Anna was with her. A heartbreak this deep might not ever recover, and there was nothing Anna could do. Other friends were gathered with the recent widow so she felt comfortable leaving the poor woman. Had she been alone, Anna would have remained through the night if necessary.
Taking a deep breath, and trying to put the sadness behind her, Anna stepped into the herbarium and was brought up short to find Brighid and Chetwey sitting at the scarred table in the center of the room. Her friend had a hand braced behind the small of her back and she was turning pages of an old book, much like she’d been doing the same time last year, minus the belly heavy with child.
“What are you doing?”
Chetwey glanced up in surprise and then grinned at her. Almost as if he was laughing at a jest only he understood.
“Research,” Brighid answered.
“Into what?” Anna placed her basket on the table. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”
“Yes!” Chetwey answered.
“Something isn’t right here and I need to determine what it is.”
“This is Marisdùn,” Anna reminded her with a laugh. “Has it ever been right?”
Brighid dismissed her. “It’s different. Something has happened and nothing good will come of it.”
“Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic? Nothing can be worse than Mary Routledge haunting the place.”
Brighid blinked up at her. “I fear this may be worse.”
A shiver ran through Anna’s body. “What of the masquerade?” Dozens of people were already here, with more to arrive. “Are the guests in danger?”
“That, I do not know.”
“All the more reason I should return you home,” Chetwey insisted.
“You know I cannot leave until I figure this out. I’d never forgive myself if others were harmed because I was sitting at home.”
“But the babe,” he reminded her.
“Will stay or arrive at its own leisure. There’s little I can do, and being at home changes nothing, except I’ll worry about what is happening here and that I should be doing something to avert it.”
“It could change where the child is born,” Chetwey bit out and Anna suspected this wasn’t the first time the two of them had had this conversation.
“And, I told you, that if the child arrives, it will be protected inside this room.”
“I do not like it.”
“Yes, dear,” Brighid answered sweetly, placing her palm against Chetwey’s cheek. “I know very well your feelings on the matter.” Then she turned and looked at Anna.
“Will you be attending the masquerade then?” Anna asked.
“My wife is not leaving this room,” Chetwey answered.
“I’d advise against you attending as well, Anna,” Brighid said.
Anna glanced between Brighid and Chetwey, then back to her friend. “You are that concerned.”
“Only in that I don’t know what it is, but there’s an evil here.” She set the book aside and slid another in its place. “Besides, it isn’t as though you need to look for the gentleman you sketched as you’ve already found him.” She grinned up at Anna. “Or, he found you, rather.”
Chetwey chuckled then ducked his head.
“What do you find so humorous?” she finally asked.
“Just that you have made a rather unforeseen impact on my friend.” He laughed again.
What had Mr. Thorn told him? Were they both now laughing at her?
Well, she would show Mr. Thorn. Just because she was different than others, did not mean she should be laughed at. When she saw him tonight, and she would most definitely find him, she’d give him a piece of her mind.
“Ignore my husband.” Brighid shot Chetwey a look of warning. “Just stay home tonight, inside, and be safe.”
Anna had no intention of doing so, but inclined her head anyway. She didn’t wish to argue with Brighid, or upset her. She appeared worried enough about a problem that Anna didn’t quite grasp.
“Why are you here, anyway?” her friend asked.
“Do you have something to help a person sleep? I was going to look amongst your tonics, but as you are here, you can assist.” She was careful not to say who she wished to help sleep. Brighid might not help if she knew Anna intended to give a sleeping draught to her uncle.
“To get to sleep or stay asleep?” Brighid asked.
If she could get Uncle Walter asleep earlier than usual it would give her more time, but she also needed him to sleep until morning. “Both. The falling asleep and then staying asleep.”
Brighid frowned at her. “Have the dreams returned?”
Goodness, she’d forgotten about those, but for a long time, Anna had difficulty sleeping. She seemed to dream all night long, waking often and then exhausted during the day. It seemed to take forever until she finally was able to rest again and that was because Brighid had prepared a special tea for her to use. Instead of answering, Anna simply nodded. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had been dreaming of late and they usually involved Mr. Thorn, but not so much that it disturbed her sleep as in the past.
“I have just what you need. It will only take me a few moments to put them together.”
Anna watched as Brighid took jars from the shelves and tried to ignore the guilt of tricking her friend. This was for the best and completely necessary.
“I’m putting catnip, chamomile, marjoram and mint in this jar. Use just a teaspoon of the mixture in a cup of tea.”
Anna nodded and took the jar from Brighid.
“The Agrimony and Hops are going in this cloth.”
“Why?” If she had the tea, why did she need anything else?
“I’m making a sachet to put under your pillow. It will insure you sleep through the night.”
It would be easy enough to get her uncle to drink the tea since she made him a cup every night, but how was she going to get the sachet under his pillow. She never went into his room.
With a shrug, Anna decided to worry about that later. If she couldn’t figure out something, she was positive Tilly or Lila would.
* * *
As it turned out, placing the sachet beneath her uncle’s pillow wasn’t as difficult as she feared as he was away from the vicarage when she returned. All she could do was hope he didn’t find it.
“I need your help,” Tilly whispered to Anna as she was coming down the corridor.
“With what?”
“Help me convince Lila to go to the masquerade with us.”
Tilly was going? “I thought you weren’t interested in attending.”
“Well, I am now. But Lila is dead set against it.”
“What’s important is that we convince Lila to attend.”
Lila was not the sort at all who would attend a Samhain masquerade. She’d only gone last year to ensure Callie’s safe return to the land of the living. “I don’t imagine she’d enjoy it.”
But Tilly shook her head most stubbornly. “She has to go. And Lord Quentin has to find her and realize that she’s his angel and—”
“His angel?” What in the world was Tilly talking about?
“Shhh!” Tilly pulled her away from the chamber. “Last year, he danced with her, and he kissed her and—”
He’d kissed her! Anna gasped. That was the last thing in the w
orld she expected to hear.
“And he thought she was an angel. I’m not sure why. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we make Lila go with us. Once Lord Quentin realizes she’s his angel then he’ll fall desperately in love with her.”
“I’m fairly certain he’s already in love with her,” Anna replied, remembering the look in his eyes when he’d held onto Lila’s hand in the middle of the road.
“Well, of course he is. She’s being stubborn about the whole thing, insisting he’s searching for a girl who doesn’t exist. It’s all nonsense and the masquerade is only one night. Tomorrow will be too late and then—”
“And then Mr. Garrick will be headed back to London.” As would Mr. David Thorn. “What do you need me to do?” Anna asked.
“We must make it impossible for her to say no.” Tilly smiled. “I’ve already prepared Mama’s white gown that she wore last year, so there will be no excuses.”
“I do hope she agrees.”
Tilly looked past her Anna. “I only worry about getting past Father.”
“That, my dear cousin, is no longer a concern.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Brighid,” Anna whispered. “She provided exactly what we need.”
Chapter 12
There she was. Perched where she sat last year, on a raised sitting area, where Anna could watch the crowd, sketchbook in hand. She was also wearing the same costume, a Venetian mask of black and gold that covered all of her face but her lips. Anna’s golden hair curled down her back, tumbling past the gold and red gossamer wings of a fairy. But that wasn’t what drew his attention. It was the black corset revealing the swell of her breast, far more than he was comfortable with any other man seeing. Laced tightly over a red linen shirt with full sleeves. The black skirt split and revealed a red underskirt and her red slippered feet were neatly crossed at her ankles. She looked as if she stepped right out of Renaissance Venice.