by Martha Keyes
Racking his brains for an answer, he tried to remember if he had been drinking the night before. But his attempts to solve the mystery of his useless arm and his vice-gripped head only made his headache worse.
He opened his eyes a little wider, blinking and then turning his head to the side. He blinked faster, frowning.
He must have been wrong about being in his room. Anne sat in the chair beside him, her hands working methodically at stitching, and much as he might wish it was not the case, Anne did not sit in his room. She had only ever been in his room once—blessed night that it was.
But no. Anne was angry with him. That much he remembered—her storming from the room after accusing him of humiliating her with his affairs. Certainly the chair next to his bed, knitting peacefully was the last place she would be after that.
He must be dreaming. But then why the pain?
He curled and flexed the fingers of his right hand, wincing, and Anne's fingers stopped. She set her knitting quickly to the side and bent down next to Tobias.
He sighed softly. It was a dream. It had to be—the way Anne was looking at him—the love, the concern, and the little sheen of hope that covered them—it was far too good to be true.
"Are you truly awake?" she asked softly, brushing a hair from his brow with her gentle fingers. In this dream, it only needed her touch to alleviate the pounding in his skull.
She smiled sadly. "Or is this yet another counterfeit wakening?"
Tobias swallowed and cleared his throat softly, afraid of setting off his headache again. "What happened?” His voice was unsteady and weak. “Why does my arm not work?" He lifted his other arm, pleased to discover that it worked painlessly. "Ha!" he cried out victoriously, though his voice was crackly and soft, despite the effort.
"You were shot in the arm,” Anne said. “By Mr. Hackett, as I understand it."
A rush of memories flooded through Tobias's head, and he pushed himself up with his good arm.
Anne put a hand on his chest, and he lowered himself back onto the pillow below. "You shouldn't get up just yet," she said. "You have been unconscious for three days, and your arm needs to mend, to say nothing of the toll the fever took on your body."
"And what of Hackett? I seem to remember shooting him?" He rubbed at his forehead. “Or was that mere fantasy?”
She suppressed a smile and shook her head. He felt relief to see that she exhibited no signs of distress over such an occurrence. "He is still at the Peacock, I believe. It is still unclear whether he shall make a recovery. But even if he does, he will be taken straight to gaol to await trial."
Tobias nodded. "I am sorry, Anne."
"I am not," she said with a shrug. She stood, and he watched her make her way over to the bell pull. "I imagine you must be feeling famished." She paused next to the bedroom door. "Is your arm hurting you?"
He shook his head from side to side.
She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes skeptically in a way Tobias found adorable.
His lips quivered, and he nodded his head. "Like the devil."
She grimaced but couldn't entirely stifle her laugh. "I shall get the laudanum. We kept it here the first night on your bedside table until I woke to you attempting to open it in one of your half-conscious stupors."
He frowned. "You slept there?" He indicated the chair with a tip of his head.
She nodded.
He blinked at her and then looked at the chair with distaste. "I refuse to sit in that poor excuse for a chair, much less sleep in it! I imagine you are in greater need of laudanum than me if you spent more than ten minutes in the thing."
She smiled but shook her head. "I was more than happy to sleep there, and my mother was kind enough to relieve me from time to time. I certainly wouldn't have slept any better in my own bed, for I should have been too worried to sleep." She paused a moment and then said, "I shall be back directly."
Tobias relaxed his head back on the pillow. The thought of Anne enduring—what had she said?—three nights in that chair out of concern for him? He hardly knew what to think.
He shut his eyes, and within sixty seconds, the world went dark again.
Tobias had fallen back asleep by the time Anne returned with the laudanum, and she frowned as she watched his chest rise and fall. She wished he could have at least swallowed some of it before falling asleep again.
The doctor arrived not long after, and Anne agreed to take a respite from sitting beside his bed, finally acknowledging that he seemed to be out of the woods.
She tipped her head from side to side, rubbing the back of her neck which ached from three nights of sleeping upright.
After a much-needed bath and freshening up, she felt revived enough to fulfill the errand she had put off in favor of her husband's more urgent needs: a visit to the Turners and Louisa. Amidst the demands of caring for Tobias over the past few days, Anne had still managed to remember her promise to Mrs. Turner and had ordered that the family be sent a basket of food every two days. But that was only a temporary solution.
Louisa wouldn't yet know of her husband's injury, and Anne cringed to think of conveying such unwelcome news. But Anne needed to make a clean breast of the situation to Louisa. She deserved to know the truth.
Wallace stood conferring with Spears at the base of the staircase, and they moved aside to let her pass by.
"Taking a walk into the village, my lady?" Wallace asked.
"Yes, I think some fresh air will do me good."
He smiled at her. "Perhaps you can take a look into the cottage. I believe it is nigh to being ready."
Her brows shot up. "What do you mean?"
"Oh," he said, seeming suddenly unsure of himself. "I thought you were aware. Mr. Cosgrove asked me to have it prepared as soon as possible."
Anne frowned. "Did he tell you why?"
Wallace shook his head.
"Thank you," she said with a civil smile. "I shall indeed stop by to see how things are faring."
She stepped out the front door of Hazelhurst, inhaling deeply. The air smelled of damp dirt and leaves, the aftereffects of the rain they'd had yesterday. It was a delightful change from the stale air and the scent of burning logs from her days in the sickroom.
With vibrant leaves crunching underfoot, she puzzled over Wallace's words for a few minutes. But there was no use guessing at things: she would have to ask Tobias the meaning of it when she returned.
She would return to her own bedroom that night, no doubt. Where she had felt her presence justified and even wise as he lay unconscious, its continuation now was not only unnecessary but might raise questions prematurely. She would tell Tobias how she felt, but certainly he deserved a day to reorient himself after the highly unusual things he had experienced.
Louisa looked much like she had after her initial arrival at Hazelhurst: tired and a bit listless, though she perked up upon seeing Anne, who came over and embraced her heartily as James lay sleeping in a blanket on the floor.
"God bless you, Louisa," Anne said, dashing a tear away as she held her in her arms. "How are you doing?"
Louisa made a weak attempt at a smile as they pulled back from their embrace. "Well enough, I suppose."
Anne sighed, looking down at baby James, the sweet innocent boy caught amidst this injustice. "I am afraid that I must take on a role I little relish, Louisa. I bear unwelcome news."
Louisa swallowed and nodded, sitting down on the nearest chair.
Anne pulled a chair from the dining table, setting it across from Louisa, sitting down, and taking both of Louisa's hands in hers. This would not be easy, but it had to be done.
Anne left the Turner home with a deep frown. She had hoped to speak with Louisa about a plan for her future, but she had decided against this in the end—the woman was overwhelmed enough trying to understand her past that the future would have to wait.
Anne felt deeply for Louisa. She knew too well what it was like to look back on everything that made your life wh
at it was and to suddenly doubt it—to wonder if anything was real, to wonder if you could trust anyone. She wouldn't wish it upon her worst enemy.
It would take time for Louisa to move forward, to come to understand that many a beautiful life had been built on rocky terrain.
But the fact was that it would require assistance from Anne and Tobias to make such a thing possible for Louisa and James. And soon.
She removed her pelisse and bonnet, tidied her appearance, and then returned to Tobias's room—a place that had come to feel a bit like home to her from all the time she had spent there over the past days.
The doctor had gone, but to Anne's great surprise, Tobias was sitting up in bed, a tray full of food in front of him.
He wore a concentrated frown on his face and held a knife in his usable hand, attempting to cut the piece of mutton before him. Looking up, he saw Anne, who gripped her lips together to keep from smiling and went over to the other side of the bed, sitting upon it beside him and taking the tray to place before her.
She scanned its contents—a hearty spread of boiled mutton and potatoes, venison, a creamy leek soup, and a few small tarts and pastries—with raised brows, took the knife from Tobias, and began cutting the meat.
"Somehow I doubt that this is how the doctor left you," she said.
Tobias looked up from watching her hands moving back and forth. "Hardly. The man left me with this"—he pointed to a small bowl beside his bed, which Anne discovered to be thin gruel. It looked untouched. "How a man is to recover his energy when he has had nothing but a bit of brandy and laudanum for days at a time—and gruel, were I as docile as the doctor thinks I should be—is anyone's guess!"
He reached for a tart and inspected it in the air. "No, no," he said more softly, almost to himself, "this is much more the thing. Bound to do me a world of good, if only by improving my mood." He bit into it and closed his eyes, sighing his satisfaction as he chewed.
Anne watched him in secret delight. It was very good to have Tobias back.
She looked to the chair on the other side of the bed as she cut the last piece of venison: at the velvety feel of the fabric, the shape of the wood arms which ended in little knobs, and the subtle spot where the cushion bulged—though it had come to feel anything but subtle to Anne. She was glad that she would no longer be obliged to sleep in the thing, and yet there had been something special about waking in the night to a guttering candle and seeing the reassuring rise and fall of Tobias's chest.
"How is your arm?" she asked, putting away such thoughts.
He raised it from its crooked, relaxed position so that it hung in the air, three inches off the coverlet below. He raised his brows at her, seemingly impressed with himself. "Nearly healed, I'd say!"
She laughed as he dropped it back down with a determined smile, full of clenched teeth, and she placed the tray in front of him again.
Taking a sip of ale, he said, "And what have you been doing, besides abandoning me in my hour of need?" He winked at her.
He was in such a good humor that she hesitated to respond with the truth. But she didn't wish to lie to Tobias.
"I paid a visit to Louisa."
His fork slowed on the way back down to the tray, and he grimaced. "How is she? And James?"
"She is the worse for my visit, I'm afraid," said Anne penitently. "I was obliged to convey very unwelcome information: that her husband is not only grievously injured but likely to be transported or hanged, even if he recovers. And then to explain to her my own dealings with him." She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dispel the image of Louisa's wide-eyed disbelief.
"A heavy errand," Tobias said in a somber voice. "Perhaps it is as well that you didn't tell her about Miss Farrell."
"Miss Farrell?"
Tobias nodded, his eyes watchfully resting on Anne. "She is another victim of Mr. Hackett—though she knew him by another name, of course."
Anne blinked. "How do you know this?"
"I felt reasonably certain after learning that Mr. Hackett was the one who had abandoned both Louisa and you that there were likely more women he had deceived. He was so ready to rationalize his behavior to you that it was obvious he felt somehow justified in all his crimes. But it seemed that you couldn't see the danger he posed—mainly to Louisa, but to you as well. So I went to London to have his past investigated more closely."
"But William had already done that—and aside from Louisa, they could find nothing. They couldn't even find him."
Tobias inclined his head. "A testament to his skill at disappearing. I had an advantage over William, though. I had the name Hackett had mentioned: Childress. And with that, the Bow Street Runners were able to find out much more about Mr. Hackett. In the few days I was in London, they located a woman he had apparently wooed and then abandoned when she was discovered to be with child." He shook his head and exhaled. "She has been obliged to sell herself to provide for her and her child."
Anne covered her mouth with her hand, clenching her eyes shut. "How could he do such a thing when it was for that exact crime that he targeted my father?”
Tobias grimaced, his shoulders coming up. “Every man is the hero in his own story, and Hackett has already shown a talent for rationalizing his behavior.”
Anne pulled her lips between her teeth, aching at the thought of Mrs. Childress and Miss Farrell. “We must help her, Tobias. And I should very much like to help Mrs. Childress as well. I feel a responsibility for her well-being."
"We are helping them," he said.
She stared at him, scanning his face.
"I had Miss Farrell brought to Weymouth," he said. "She is living in a house off of Dorchester Road for the time being, but I have a plan in place that should allow her to relocate within the week to a more permanent situation. As for Mrs. Childress, she should be joining Miss Farrell today. She has required a bit more convincing, but I cannot blame her for mistrusting men after the experiences she has had."
Anne's mouth opened wordlessly, her mind rushing back to her day in Weymouth—to her dismay and despair upon seeing Tobias there with a woman. She stood, pacing back and forth in a small line beside the bed, her palms together in front of her lips.
"What is it?" he said, frowning curiously at her expression.
She stopped, turning toward him. "I saw you," she said lamely. "In Weymouth. With her, I imagine. With Miss Farrell."
His head reared back. "You did?"
Anne nodded. "I was in town that day, and the traffic obliged me to turn down a side lane, where I saw you holding a woman's hand in yours." Hope began expanding inside her, and she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Tobias, is it possible that someone in London could have seen you with Miss Farrell?"
Comprehension dawned on Tobias's face. "You saw me with her in Weymouth, and it confirmed what your father wrote to you about my affairs." He said the word disdainfully.
"You read the letter?"
He nodded. "I came to find you after you left the conservatory. You were gone, but the letter was lying on the floor of your room." His jaw seemed to tighten at the memory, but he breathed out, and his shoulders relaxed. "To answer your question—yes. Miss Farrell is the woman your father must have seen me with in London. And I shall say nothing about what his business might have been in that particular part of town."
Anne couldn't find energy to care about that. All she could focus on was one thing: that her father had been wrong. She had been wrong. He was helping Miss Farrell escape the demeaning life she had been obliged to live.
"You said you have a plan?" she said, sitting back down upon the edge of the bed.
"Yes," he said. "What these women need most is a place to live and a way to make money. The house in the village should be nearly ready for Louisa, James, and Miss Farrell to live in—that is, if Wallace obeyed my final instructions to him."
Anne nodded slowly in wide-eyed awe at what she was hearing. "He did. He told me only today that the repairs are almost complete." Who
was this man who had been investigating Mr. Hackett, rescuing women, and making plans for their future, all in secret?
"Very good. I have high hopes that both Louisa and Mrs. Newsom will agree to an arrangement where Louisa may act as caretaker and wet-nurse for the Newsom children. And as for Miss Farrell, she has the skill to be a seamstress, and I think we might give her a fair amount of work from Hazelhurst alone for the time being."
Anne found her jaw to be hanging open in a very unladylike manner and shut it immediately. "Of course! How did I never consider such a situation for Louisa? It is ingenious!"
Tobias inclined his head. "I happen to agree with you."
Anne didn't dare ask the questions that hounded her mind and heart. Did it mean something that both she and her father had been wrong about Tobias's affairs? It didn't necessarily follow that he wanted the same things as Anne, after all.
The silence continued, Anne unable to find anything to say when her mind was so consumed with one thing and one thing only. If there was any time to tell him of her feelings for him, it was now.
"Tobias," she said, swallowing.
His head whipped around, a few crumbs falling from his lips as he held a tart in his hands. "Mm?" he said expectantly until he seemed to have an epiphany. "Oh, how very selfish of me!" He reached the half-eaten tart toward her.
She gripped her lips together to keep from laughing, some of her nerves dissipating. "No, it isn’t that."
"Oh," he said, shrugging his shoulders and popping the rest of the tart into his mouth.
"Before you left to find Mr. Hackett, you said something." She hesitated. She didn't have to tell him immediately of her feelings for him. "You said that he told you that I was still in love with him."
Tobias's brow furrowed slightly, and he nodded, frowning as he tried to move the tray to the side of the bed. Anne was obliged to intervene, though, and took it from him to set on her side of the bed.
"What of it?" he said turning toward her.
