by Martha Keyes
"Oh," Anne said, her tone somewhere between light and disappointed. "I hope the roads have improved since the rain we had on Monday." She took a plate from the sideboard table and began serving herself.
Tobias smiled politely, tapping his fingers on the table and then moving toward the door.
"Oh, Tobias."
He turned around expectantly, hand on the doorknob.
"If it isn't too much trouble, might you pick up some candles in town? I believe that we used up quite a few when we cleaned up the paint in the breakfast room." Her face colored up slightly, and Tobias tugged on the end of his sleeve to spare her the embarrassment of looking at her.
She cleared her throat. "If you haven't time, don't burden yourself. I think we shall have enough to make do for tonight's dinner."
Tobias stilled and then grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. Tonight's dinner.
"You forgot, didn't you?" she said, a little laugh in her voice.
"No," he said, frowning and shaking his head decisively.
She raised her brows at him, and he twisted his mouth to the side.
"Possibly." He clenched his teeth through an apologetic smile and then sighed, taking off his hat and spinning it in his hands. "I often forget things when I don't wish to do them, I'm afraid."
"Quite understandable," she replied, sitting down at the table and placing her napkin on her lap. "But I don't think that your parents will be satisfied with such an excuse, and I am certain that mine won't. At least not my father."
"No, likely not," he said, imagining what his own mother would say if he absented himself from the dinner for such a reason. "But it couldn't hurt to try?" he suggested, mostly curious to see how Anne would react.
She laughed. "You would leave me to entertain them alone? I defy you to attempt such a thing. Just see how I take my revenge on you if you do."
Laughing, he said, “You terrify me and intrigue me all at once! But no,” he said, executing a deep bow. "I will be back in time to dress for dinner, with candles a'plenty."
It was with a small smile that Anne heard carriage wheels approaching Hazelhurst. Tobias had kept his word. She had harbored a small doubt that he would. After all, he did seem the type of person who might find any excuse available to him, however flimsy, to avoid an interaction he foresaw being unpleasant, and Anne had come to understand that such was the way he regarded any meeting with his father.
She closed the book in her hands, putting a hand to the sheer curtain and pulling it to the side so that she could see through the window. She straightened, peering more closely at the carriage in the courtyard. It was not Tobias's phaeton. It was his parents' coach.
Two hours earlier than she had been expecting them.
Anne was used to entertaining people much more intimidating than the Cosgroves. And yet, for whatever reason, she found herself sincerely wishing she had Tobias by her side, rather than being obliged to meet his parents alone and then entertain them until dinner was ready.
What would they think of the changes that Hazelhurst was undergoing? Would Anne’s desire to redecorate seem an encroachment rather than a valiant effort to please their son—and fully within her rights as mistress of the estate?
It had been obvious at the wedding, too, that the Cosgroves viewed Tobias's agreement to marry Anne as a condescension on their part. She might be the daughter of an earl, but her past alliance with Mr. Hackett set her in unknown territory that some viewed with the same disdain and condemnation as they might view divorce. Others viewed her as a victim to be pitied.
The Cosgroves seemed to alternate between these views as it suited them.
Despite the fluttering of nerves in her stomach, she entered the courtyard wearing as welcoming a smile as she could muster. It was with great relief that she watched Mr. and Mrs. Cosgrove step down from the coach followed by Mr. and Mrs. Galbraith. Anne's smile brightened considerably. Isabel wouldn't leave Anne to do all the entertaining herself, bless her kind heart.
Anne walked over to the four of them, welcoming them warmly as Isabel made her excuses. "I am terribly sorry to descend upon you unannounced, Lady Anne, but Charles and I have been very anxious to pay you and Tobias a visit, and when we heard that Mama and Papa were coming, I managed to convince myself that you wouldn't mind terribly if we joined you all."
It wouldn't have been civil to tell Isabel that her presence was more welcome than her parents', but Anne reassured her and her husband that they were very welcome indeed.
"Oh," said Mrs. Cosgrove, looking around as they stepped into the entry way. "You have made...changes."
Anne wet her lips and tried to smile. The only difference in the entry way was that Anne had ordered that the rugs be changed out—moving one from an upstairs corridor to the entry way, and vice versa.
"Well, I should think so," Isabel said lightly. "It is completely natural that Tobias and Anne would adapt things to their comfort and taste in their own home."
Anne sent her a grateful look, and her husband Charles grimaced sympathetically. He had more experience with the Cosgroves than Anne did, but he seemed to understand what she might be feeling.
Tea was served in the morning room, and Anne didn't miss the "hmph" of Mr. Cosgrove, or the silent but critical eye Mrs. Cosgrove raked over the room. What good were the changes Anne was making if Tobias continued to spend the majority of his time away and his parents took offense at them? It was effort wasted.
Anne bore through the conversation as best she could, but it would have been very trying indeed without Isabel and Charles.
"Izzy," Charles said, setting down his cup and sitting back onto the cushions behind him, "I know you well enough to guess that you are itching to take a walk in the gardens. Why don't you and Lady Anne take some air together?"
Isabel and her husband caught eyes, and Anne saw the warm look of gratitude and the little nod of understanding that passed between them. The Galbraiths were happy together. That much was apparent to anyone who spent time with them—the way they still sat as close to one another as possible; the little smiles they shared; and the way Charles found reasons to touch Isabel, if only to absently twist one of her curls around his finger.
It was everything Anne had grown up wishing for in a marriage, and happy as she was for them, it pained her to watch.
She and Isabel put on their spencers to keep out the autumnal chill in the air, and their half-boots met hard ground, still frozen from nighttime cold.
Anne inhaled the fresh air, letting it out slowly until her shoulders relaxed completely.
Isabel looked at her. "Yes. Please don't allow my mother to provoke you or set you ill at ease. This is your home. Yours and Tobias's."
Anne gave a soft, wry laugh. "His home in fact if not in practice."
"Is he gone so often?"
Anne nodded and smiled. She didn't want to give Isabel the idea that she was dissatisfied.
Isabel sighed. "Tobias has always been flighty—hardly able to sit still, always planning some adventure or other." She looked at Anne, her gaze scrutinizing. "But he has a kind soul and a good heart."
Anne hardly knew how to answer. That Tobias was good-natured, no one could doubt. But Isabel's words implied that there was something more substantial to him. And that was something Anne had a more difficult time understanding, as she had yet to see a more serious side of him emerge.
Isabel must have sensed her hesitation, for she continued, "Every kindness I met with as a child in the home was at Tobias's hands. I looked forward to nothing as much as his visits home from school. He saw the way I was often passed over or slighted in favor of my sister Cecilia, and I think he made it his goal to single-handedly counteract that." She smiled nostalgically. "He could always make me laugh."
Anne thought on their wedding day—how Tobias had managed to quell the nerves she had been trying to conceal. "He does have a gift for setting people at ease, doesn't he?"
It was all she could think to say. Surely the last t
hing she needed was encouragement from Isabel that would make it more difficult for Anne to regard Tobias with amiable indifference.
"He can seem heedless, I'm afraid," Isabel said, "but he wants nothing more than for the people around him to be happy."
Carriage wheels sounded nearby, saving Anne the necessity of responding. "It's my mother and father," she said. Where was Tobias? Surely his ability to lighten the mood would be put to best use at just such a time as this.
Anne and Isabel made their way to the courtyard to welcome Lord and Lady Purbeck. Looking at her mother's drawn face as she stepped down from the coach, Anne could easily guess that the carriage ride had not been pleasant, and when her father emerged, it was with the steely set to his jaw that hardly forebode a pleasant evening.
"Where is your husband?" He snapped at Anne after his gaze took in Isabel at her side.
Anne hesitated, considering how to defend Tobias in the event that he had decided to avail himself of an excuse not to return where he would be subjected to two hard-nosed fathers. He had seemed to be joking about skipping the evening entirely when he said It can't hurt to try, but what if he was in earnest?
"He had to make a trip into Weymouth today, but he should be back shortly."
Her father's only response was a grunt, and Anne's mother looked an apology at her as they turned toward the house.
Anne sighed and Isabel took her arm again, giving it an understanding squeeze.
Anne asked the cook and servants to hold dinner an extra fifteen minutes, but to no avail. Tobias did not arrive, and she tried valiantly not to let her resentment build as she said with a placidity and nonchalance she was far from feeling, "I think he may have been held up in fulfilling one of the commissions I gave him. We must dine without him, I fear."
She had tried not to heed her father's raised eyebrow or to explore what thoughts might be running through his head—that she couldn't manage to keep any husband by her side, in all likelihood.
Hoping that the candles they had on hand would be sufficient for the evening, Anne led the families into the dining room.
During the meal, her eyes moved frequently to the empty place meant for Tobias. She hardly knew how she felt about his absence—hurt? Angry? Resentful? She couldn't fight a hope that he would appear, redeeming himself, sharing in the burden she carried as hostess.
But he had still not arrived when the women rose from the table and moved to the drawing room, leading Anne to ask Mr. Cosgrove whether he would be comfortable acting as host to the other men—hardly the picture of the strong, well-run household she had hoped to present to people already accustomed to arranging things as they pleased at Hazelhurst.
Entertaining the women was a duty much less fraught than dinner had been, as Anne's mother managed to bring out Mrs. Cosgrove's good humor and goodwill with her soft, agreeable nature. But the peace was not to last. The men entered the room—Anne suppressing her impulse to look for Tobias with them—and her father sought her out immediately.
"Anne, I should like a word with you," he said, not waiting for her response before he turned and strode toward the door.
Anne followed him to the nearby study with an ominous feeling sitting in the pit of her stomach. She declined to close the door fully, feeling that to close it entirely was somehow like shutting the door on her escape from an interview which was bound to be unpleasant.
Her father scanned the room with his critical eye before turning to her. She straightened her shoulders, putting her back to the door. She needed to show her father confidence, for there was nothing which provoked his anger and harsh words so much as a cowering victim.
8
Tobias didn't even wait for the hired carriage to halt in front of Hazelhurst before hopping down, his arm full of candles, his hat slightly askew. He glanced at the façade of the house, noting the warm light emanating from the windows of the drawing room and the study next to it, before rushing to the front door. He spilled his burden into the arms of the butler, thanking him briefly and breathlessly, and taking the stairs two at a time.
He took off his hat, tossing it onto a table in the corridor, and ran his hand through his unkempt hair. He could certainly go and change, but surely Anne would rather he be there—even dressed as he was—than for him to delay further. He hardly dared look her in the eye, particularly after he had made it so clear to her that he didn't wish to be at the dinner. He could only hope she would understand once she knew of the afternoon he had passed.
He patted the pocket of his tailcoat, feeling the small metal case inside. He wouldn't blame her if she thought the reason for his tardiness silly. It certainly had caused more trouble than it merited, but he hoped that it might soften her anger and perhaps even make her laugh.
His long strides took him down the corridor in record time, but he stopped short before reaching the drawing room door.
The door to the study stood slightly ajar, and he could hear a deep, displeased voice carrying through the space.
"I certainly didn't anticipate in coming here that your husband would be absent."
Tobias clenched his teeth and grimaced. Anne was being chastised for something entirely out of her control.
"He did mean to be here," she said, and Tobias marveled slightly at the calmness of her voice. "I am sure there is a very good reason he wasn't able to return in time."
"Or perhaps,” Lord Purbeck said, “you are driving off yet another husband."
Tobias's eyes widened, and he clenched his jaw. The devil.
Was this the kind of treatment Anne was accustomed to from her father? If so, the lectures of Tobias's own father were nothing in comparison.
There was a pause before Anne answered, her voice softer but no less firm. "I can hardly be blamed for Anthony's departure, my lord."
He insisted that she call him my lord? Just what kind of man was Lord Purbeck?
"Perhaps not," Lord Purbeck said, his voice dripping with skepticism. "But whatever the circumstances of your last alliance"—Tobias could imagine the blush which his tone and words would cause to creep up into Anne's cheeks—"I have heard reports from friends in the county here that your husband is rarely to be seen in your company. It behooves you, Anne, to take greater pains to please him if you don't wish to be further humiliated by reports of the company he does choose to keep in place of yours."
Tobias couldn't bear it another moment. He took a breath, plastered a smile on his face, and pushed the door open with a gentleness which strained his taut muscles and the pent-up anger within them.
Anne turned around, and it was just as he had expected: her cheeks were stained bright pink, a stricken look in her eyes. His heart ached looking at her, but he maintained his smile, moving toward her where he proceeded to wrap an arm around her waist and plant a kiss on her forehead.
"I'm so sorry to be so late, darling," he said as her eyes blinked back at him, uncomprehending and stunned. "I was detained." He looked to his father-in-law, who was watching him with his own measure of surprise, and executed a bow. "Lord Purbeck. Very pleased to see you here, and I hope you will accept my deepest apologies for missing your arrival and presenting myself in such a state as this." He put out an arm to signify his clothing, keeping his other arm snuggly around Anne.
Lord Purbeck's eyes flitted to his daughter and back to Tobias. "It doesn't signify, I'm sure."
"Well, then," Tobias said lightly, "I think I must greet my mother and father without delay—I hope they will be as forgiving as you are, my lord, if I do so in all my dirt." He began pulling Anne along with him but paused. "Oh. Very thoughtless of me. I was assuming Anne would come with me, but if you are still wishful to speak with her, my lord...?" He raised his brows in a question.
Lord Purbeck shook his head, and Tobias smiled, putting out a hand to indicate the door. "After you then, my lord." He watched his father-in-law leave the room and then turned to Anne.
She moved away, leaving his arm to drop from her side, and turned
her head away from him.
Tobias relaxed his shoulders. In his anger at hearing Lord Purbeck abusing Anne, he had forgotten how she must be feeling toward him and his tardiness. "I am so sorry, Anne. Truly. You will hardly credit the day I've passed—"
She shook her head, putting a hand up to silence him and her other hand to cover her mouth. "Don't," she said. "Please don't."
He reared back slightly. "But..."
She shook her head yet again, and he stopped. She really wouldn't allow him to explain why he was hours later than he had promised? When he had just saved her from her father's ire? And when it was his wish to make her laugh that had set off the chain of events leading to the most aggravating day in recent memory?
"I think you should go see your sister and her husband. They accompanied your parents here." She didn't even look at him as she spoke, and her words sounded more like a dismissal than a suggestion.
He stood still for a moment and then reached into his pocket, pulling out the circular metal case and tossing it on the desk that stood before them. "There," he said in a hollow voice. "I thought you might add that to your collection."
He turned on his heel and walked out the door.
Anne took in a shaky breath, her eyes darting to the shiny case that sat on the desk, spherical and strange.
She shut her eyes and let her head drop back. She hadn't meant to be unkind to Tobias. Indeed, she had been relieved to see him—and then breathless at his unexpected behavior; at the way he had treated her as though they had a marriage like Isabel's and Charles's rather than their own marriage of convenience, during which he had never come so near to her as he just had.
Of course it had been for her father's benefit, and Anne's cheeks flamed anew at the thought of what Tobias must have heard in order to make such a performance as he had.
She was grateful for his kindness, and yet it left her reeling, so tangled up in a mess of emotions that she didn't know what thoughts to heed. Had he really thought he could abandon her to entertain their families alone and then behave as he had? Was it so easy for him to hold her and kiss her forehead, without it provoking even a shred of emotion and connection within him?
