by April Munday
“I do, General Warren. Lord Meldon has chosen well.”
Warren was still talking to Anna as Meldon helped her onto her horse, so it was only natural that they should continue together, while Meldon followed with Finch.
“What are you going to do,” asked Finch when Meldon had passed on Warren’s news.
“Kill him, of course.”
“I’m sure he will give you cause.”
“You mean with Miss Smith? We’ll keep her out of it. I don’t want her name associated with his.”
“Then I’ll watch him tonight.”
“Why?”
“He’s bound to annoy Miss Smith.”
“She’s sympathetic to his attentions. Caro told me.”
“I believe she told you that Miss Smith is considering accepting his offer when it comes. Not the same thing.”
Meldon grunted.
“I don’t see how you can keep her out of it. Once she accepts him he won’t be far away from her side. Defending her honour would be a very plausible reason to kill him.”
Meldon clutched at the reins until his knuckles whitened.
“We will not involve her.”
“Then you will have to think up another plan very quickly, because I don’t imagine that he will show Miss Smith the respect that you will.”
Anna’s head was spinning by the time Jane came to help her dress. All day Meldon had stayed close to her. At breakfast he had served her himself. Afterwards, instead of going to his office to attend to estate business as he usually did, he asked if she would mind if he read in the library with her and they had gone to the library together. It was unlike him to leave his guests unattended and Anna wondered if there was something he wished to discuss with her, but Meldon settled himself in his chair and picked up the volume of Pope that he had been reading before Finch’s arrival. This was the opportunity that she had hoped for, so she stood and approached him. Immediately he stood.
“Can I do something for you, Miss Smith?”
“No, my lord, I have a gift for you.”
“Another gift? I have not yet got over the magnificence of your last one.”
He did not smile and she was relieved that he was not mocking her.
“I am afraid that, in the same way that the materials of that gift were your own, your money paid for this one, too.”
“Do you still chafe at living at my expense?”
“I should prefer to live at my own.” Anna looked away from him for a moment. “I’m sorry, my lord, my ingratitude has spoilt the gift.”
Meldon moved so that she must look at him. “You bear your poverty well. Is there really nothing good enough for Jonas Smith to publish? He used to write so well.”
“Jonas Smith fought for every word he wrote.” Then she realised what he had said. Did he mean that he had read the poems that she had published? He could only have done that if he had sought them out, for she had not published consistently.
“Does your ease here distract you? Should I not feed you unless you can pay me?”
“It is not the ease, my lord.”
“Is it the distractions, then? I can lock you in here from the moment you rise to the moment you go to sleep.” He smiled, but his eyes were worried.
“I am no longer interested in the subjects that Jonas Smith wrote about and no one would wish to buy the poems that I write now.”
“They would pay for the one you wrote for me.”
“But... but...”
“I would not wish you to publish it, though. I treasure it too highly to wish to share it. That cannot have been the only poem of any value that you have written these last weeks.”
“No, it is not.” Anna thought of all the poems in the box that declared her love for him. “They are all of great value to me, but not to anyone else.”
“I will not pretend that I understand you. Oh! Have you written me another poem and I have just...”
“No, my lord. It is not another poem.” Anna held out the gloves that she had finished that morning and wrapped in a piece of cloth that had been left over from her gown for tonight.
Meldon undid the ribbon and, when he had uncovered the gloves, smiled and traced the pattern of her fine embroidery. “You are very thoughtful,” he said. “Thank you.”
He undid the gloves he was wearing and removed them. Carefully, as if they were the most fragile thing he had ever touched, he eased her gloves onto his hands. They were a perfect fit.
“Either you are very observant or Perkins assisted you,” he said.
“Perkins assisted me,” she admitted.
Meldon nodded thoughtfully. “I do not know now which of your gifts to treasure more.”
“Do you have to choose between them?” Anna was feeling quite breathless at the idea that he would treasure either of her gifts let alone both of them.
“No. How did you manage to make these without me noticing?”
“I sewed some mornings while I sat here and, lately, in my bedroom.”
“Ah, that explains the candle.”
“Oh, did Perkins get into trouble about the candle.”
“Perkins gave you a candle? Well, well.” He smiled slightly, as if the knowledge amused him.
“Please don’t be angry with him.”
“I’m not angry, not in the least. I’m surprised. Perkins has never shown any inclination to assist any woman in my family or amongst my guests. He seems to have taken a liking to you. Don’t worry. The candle was a mystery. Simpson drew it to my attention, because there was one missing. I’m glad you have explained it and I shall not be mentioning it to Perkins, or Simpson.”
“Thank you.”
Meldon undid the gloves and removed them, replacing them with the gloves he had been wearing.
“Please do not be insulted. I am merely saving them for a more appropriate occasion. They are too fine for everyday use.”
“I am not insulted, my lord. They are yours to do with as you please.”
Anna returned to the desk in the window and Meldon sat down with Pope, but Anna felt that neither of them gave their tasks the attention that they deserved.
Later they sat in the drawing-room with his guests. Meldon spent the time first with his brother-in-law, then with his oldest nephew. Finally he settled in the chair next to her and began to question her about her embroidery. From there they had moved to other things. Occasionally he had made her laugh, but mostly they had talked easily. Anna was glad that they finally seemed to have recovered what they had lost since he had gone to Kent.
At last it was time to dress for the ball and now Anna sat on her bed waiting for Jane. It had been a perfect day. It was almost as if Meldon had planned it just to please her.
As Jane helped her into her dress, she reflected that she had one more joy to look forward to; she was to dance with Meldon.
“You look beautiful, Miss,” said Jane and Anna knew that she did. She had done all she knew to present herself to Meldon the way a gracious guest should.
As Anna moved towards the door Jane stopped her.
“His lordship asked if you would wait here for him.”
Jane smiled shyly as she closed the door behind her.
Anna didn’t have time to wonder what this might mean, for there was a knock on the door almost as soon as Jane had closed it.
Meldon stood on the other side when Anna opened it. “May I come in?”
Anna moved aside so that he could do so and saw that Jane was standing in the passage. Meldon left the door ajar so that Jane could not see them, but could hear them.
“I hope you will forgive the intrusion, Miss Smith, but my sister reminded me that you have no jewellery of your own. Would you do me the honour of wearing these?” He held out a box containing a sapphire necklace, bracelet and a pair of earrings. “Although it would be rather painting the lily.”
He looked at her appreciatively.
Anna realised that her mouth was open. The sapphires suited her colouring perfect
ly.
“Oh,” she said at last.
“It’s not a gift,” said Meldon obviously mistaking her hesitation for reluctance.
“No, of course not. They’re beautiful. How thoughtful of you.”
She took the earrings from the box and put them on herself, but let Meldon fasten the bracelet around her wrist and the necklace around her neck. He removed his gloves so that he could handle the delicate jewellery. His hand brushed the nape of her neck as he did so and she shivered. Looking at the gloves that he had placed on her dressing-table she recognised them as the gloves that she had given him that morning. This, then, was the occasion for which he had saved them. The thought pleased her greatly.
Meldon moved so that he stood in front of her. Slowly, he pulled his gloves back on and she thought he smiled briefly as he did so.
“Would you like a glass so that you can see how beautiful you are?”
She shook her head. The look on his face was enough.
“Then let us go down.”
He offered her his arm. Anna hesitated, then took it. Jane smiled as they passed her and Anna smiled back. Many guests had already arrived and Anna could hear the musicians tuning in the ballroom.
Silence fell as they entered and all eyes turned to them. Anna loosened her grip on his arm, but he pulled his arm against his body, trapping her there.
“Please do me the honour of opening the ball.”
“But I can’t...”
How could Anna Smith open the Earl of Meldon’s ball?
“Yes, you can.”
“There are women of higher rank here.”
“Possibly.”
“Very well.”
The longer they stood here, the worse it would be. Better by far to let the ball start than to be seen to be arguing with the earl.
Meldon left his stick in the care of a footman and led her out for a cotillion. If Meldon had struggled with the waltz, he was elegance itself now, his lameness barely noticeable. Anna tried not to be too aware of the surprise shown by the other guests. She had known it must cause comment when Meldon danced with her after abstaining for so long, for Lady Caroline, her husband, her son and her father-in-law had all told her that he did not dance, not knowing that she had already observed him at a dance. She could only put his desire to dance with her down to his wish to marry her off as quickly as possible. She knew she looked her best and danced well. By making her the centre of attention he was saving her a great deal of time.
The dance ended and a waltz began. Meldon took her confidently and led her around the room.
Nothing distracted her from him now. Anna was aware of the way he touched her hand, the weight of his other hand on her waist, the way she seemed to know how he was going to move before he moved. Time stopped and there was only the two of them moving across the floor together.
When it was over they were both breathless.
“Perhaps you should meet my guests now, while we recover.”
Meldon signalled to the footman, who brought his stick. Once again he tucked her hand into his arm and she found that it was comfortable there, as if it belonged to him, as if she were an extension of his body. Shaking off this fanciful notion, she walked with him around the room and met his neighbours she did not already know. Anna found that he was the same as he had been with his tenants. He knew them all and he knew enough of their business to ask questions that pleased them. For a man who spent so little time here, he was remarkably knowledgeable about everything that happened in the neighbourhood. All of them seemed pleased to meet her, although she noticed how quickly Meldon moved her away from the single men. She was about to question him about this when she thought she saw Carstairs out of the corner of her eye. He had not approached her and she had Meldon’s presence to thank for that, but she could not avoid him all evening.
When they were only a few feet away from Carstairs, Meldon asked if she would like another waltz. She could not refuse and they danced two dances together.
“I see Mr Carstairs is going to be tiresome,” he said as they waited for the music to start for a third time.
“Then allow me to save you the tedium of his company,” she said. “I think he wants me, rather than you.”
“I’m sure he wants you.”
Anna was shocked by his outspokenness.
“Miss Smith, Lord Meldon.” Carstairs stood beside them. Meldon squeezed her hand, bowed to her and excused himself.
“Good evening, Miss Smith, I thought Lord Meldon was never going to let you go.”
Anna wished that he had not and felt her resolve desert her.
“Shall we dance?”
“No, thank you. I need some air.” The thought of Carstairs holding her in the same way that Meldon had just held her made her almost ill.
“It’s cold outside.”
“Nonetheless...” she started to move into the entrance hall. What she wanted to do could not be done in the sight of all these people.
Carstairs followed her outside. She led him to the side of the house away from the ballroom. He had been right; it was cold. She wished she had asked Simpson for a shawl when she had seen him in the hall.
“Have you thought about my offer?” Carstairs asked when she stopped and turned towards him.
“I have thought of little else,” she said honestly.
“And have you come to a decision?” He stepped closer and took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.
Anna had expected to feel nothing and was not disappointed. While her father had been alive she had known her chances of marrying for love were slim and, before he met Harriet, James had shared his father’s opinions. Even so, Anna could have persuaded him otherwise, had she ever met a man she could have loved. Her suitors had all been men like Carstairs. They were not the men she read about or the friends James had told her about. James had told her that her intelligence was a curse and she would have to hide it if she wished to marry. Anna had known that she could not live a lie; she must either find a clever husband or a man who would not mind having a clever wife. She felt that Carstairs fulfilled neither criterion, but he was passionate about her. Increasingly, however, she felt his passion was false. There was something wrong about a man who could love so much and give such unrestrained proofs of it on such short acquaintance.
Now she raised her face to him and parted her lips slightly. As she had thought, Carstairs needed no more encouragement to kiss her. Despite her fears, Anna gave herself to the kiss; her plan would not work otherwise. Carstairs let go of her hands and pulled her roughly against him. One hand caught the back of her head and moved it with more force than was necessary. In this moment she made up her mind. Still she did not break away from the kiss interested, despite herself, in what he would do next. She concentrated on what Carstairs’ tongue was doing and thought that there could be pleasure there if only he wanted to give it. Against her better judgement she opened her lips as he seemed to want her to do. Immediately his tongue was in her mouth. Shocked Anna almost pulled away, but there was, again, that feeling this, too, could be pleasurable. Perhaps someone else would consider her pleasure as much as his own. Tentatively she responded and Carstairs gripped her tighter. She guessed that she had done the right thing. Now she became aware of Carstairs’ hands as he explored her back and lower.
“What are you doing, you blackguard?”
Carstairs released her but Finch was already pulling him away from her.
“Mr Finch, please, no. This is my fault.”
Finch had pulled back his arm to punch Carstairs and Anna grabbed it.
“You mean he wasn’t assaulting you?”
“No.”
Finch lowered his arm, his face still angry.
“Leave now, Carstairs. Leave and go home.”
“But, Miss Smith...”
“Your behaviour was disgusting. Miss Smith is an innocent and you take advantage of her. You are not ready to be in polite society. Go now or I will knock you down, even if
it is in front of Miss Smith.”
Anna saw the look of fear on Carstairs’ face. Finch was the shorter man, but there was no doubt in her mind that he could do what he threatened and more. Carstairs must see that as well.
Carstairs glanced in her direction and turned away. She thought he looked sulky. He walked away. Anna sighed and realised that her knees were weak. She put out a hand to grasp Finch’s arm.
Finch turned his attention to her. “Now, Miss Smith. Damn! He did assault you after all.”
Anna looked at him in surprise and realised she was crying. Finch slipped out of his jacket and placed it round her shoulders. Then he put his arms around her, Anna was so comforted by his kind attention that she gave herself up to her tears and rested her head against his chest.
“What’s happening?”
“Go away, Meldon.” Finch’s voice was quiet, but, even in her wretchedness, Anna recognised the command in it.
“But, Miss Smith...”
“Is rather emotional. There’s nothing you can do here.”
“Finch, don’t...”
“Go away!”
Anna jumped at the force of Finch’s voice, although it was no louder than it had been before, then heard Meldon’s angry footsteps as he left them. Anna felt even more wretched; the light from the full moon could have hidden little of what she had done from them.
“I’m sorry, Miss Smith.” Finch stroked her back and Anna’s sobs quietened. “I wish I had some whisky for you, but we must manage without. Come.”
Finch led her to a stone bench where they both sat.
“Miss Smith, you need a friend and I’m conceited enough to believe that I’m the friend you need.”
“Mr Finch, I have lied to you and cheated you. Why would you be my friend?”
“Because I am Meldon’s friend. No, don’t think about that for now. You said what Carstairs was doing was your fault.”
“I encouraged him. I wanted to know...”
Anna shook her head.
“Take a deep breath and give me your hands.”
Anna placed her hands in his.
“They’re cold. You must be cold. I’m sorry, but we should agree what you’re going to tell Meldon when we go in.”
“Why?”