“We can quell those,” Colin soothed. “Between the set of us, we can stamp it all out.”
“Not if your brother is around. That only makes things worse.”
Now it was Colin who groaned. “Blast it, Kit…”
“Do you know anything about…?”
“No.”
Duncan was not sure he believed his friend, but the finality in his voice told Duncan not to ask.
Colin cleared his throat. “So, how is Annalise?”
“She is well,” Duncan sighed, “but she is so eager to please everyone she is being run ragged. I thought she was perfect as she was, but apparently the women did not agree.”
“Funny how that works,” Colin mused. “So Annalise enjoys all of this?”
“I think so.” He twisted his lips and exhaled. “I cannot tell. She doesn’t show her emotions much, but I think she might be overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do or how to help, so I escape, quite honestly. Because if I see her in need or upset, I will do something. Probably something irrational.”
“Get her a gift,” Colin suggested with a wild grin.
Duncan snorted. “She hardly needs more things, Colin. Not when the women are continually bringing her new gowns and trinkets and such.”
“You have no imagination. Women like presents. They are always well appreciated and will show you are thinking of her. I don’t mean something extravagant or elaborate. Something that reminds you of her. Something not entirely obvious.” Colin shrugged. “Your possibilities are limitless.”
Duncan was surprised he had not thought about it. It was a good idea, but he would never tell Colin he thought so. He gave his friend a look. “When did you become an expert in these things?”
Colin grinned again. “I have always been an expert in women and the finer things in life. Surely you knew that by now?”
“Have you got all of that?” Tibby asked as she exhaled loudly.
Annie’s head spun like a top. “Yes,” she managed to say. The others had left for the moment to descend upon her wardrobe upstairs to root out what was unsuitable, though they had already been to the dressmaker’s twice this week. Truly, she was exhausted by the very thought of more dresses.
“You look tired, my dear.”
Annie jerked and looked at Tibby, who smiled in a very matronly way. There was such kindness in her eyes and in her person that Annie had no reservations about being honest.
“I am,” she admitted softly, “but it is a good kind of tired.”
Tibby nodded thoughtfully, her gold turban twinkling in the light form the fire. “You will find that sort of tired will come often once you start going out in Society.”
Annie chewed on her lip, more than a little apprehensive about her future in those realms. She had seen the disapproval in Marianne’s face when the others had brought her dresses, but she had also seen something else. Almost sadness. She wondered if she might talk with Marianne, just the two of them, to see if they might yet be friends.
“Well, Annalise, I do believe you deserve some answers.”
Bewilderment surged within her, even as she jerked yet again at the use of her full given name. Duncan had told them all about his discovery, and they had agreed to side with him in their address of her. She did not necessarily mind being Annalise to them, but it took some getting used to. “About what?” she asked, still reeling.
Tibby shrugged, her vibrant copper tendrils dancing about. “Whatever you like. Whomever you like. Myself, Marianne, Lady Greversham, although I do not suggest asking after her, she is quite a harpy.”
A sudden wave of need filled her and she had to bite her tongue to keep from immediately responding with Duncan’s name. She practiced the composed face she had learned from the others, and carefully thought it out.
“Duncan told me a little about his past,” she began slowly.
“Did he now?” Tibby mused, her eyes widening just a touch, even as she smiled.
Annie nodded, swallowing her nerves. “I wonder… could you tell me more about it?”
Tibby seemed to consider the question for an extremely long time, her clear eyes never once leaving Annie’s.
Annie feared she had been too forward. She knew, of course, that she had been extremely forward, but Tibby had a skewed sense of such things and generally applauded such behaviors and thinking.
“I do not like to speak of my nephew’s past without his knowledge or consent,” Tibby said slowly, her voice very serious, very low, and very unlike her usual vibrancy.
Annie felt her cheeks flame and ducked her head. “I understand, of course,” she murmured in a half-whisper.
There was a brief pause, and then, “But as he started it, I see no reason why I should not finish it. He never tells the whole story. Too modest by half.”
It was impossible for Annie to keep from jerking to look at Tibby in surprise. The older woman’s eyes were twinkling, and there was a small, barely-there smile on her face that spoke volumes about her relationship with her nephew.
“My brothers,” Tibby began softly, “did not get along. Never did, and it would take years to explain why. But Duncan’s father, Victor, was good-hearted and kind, for the most part. He was not perfect, but who is, besides myself?”
Annie snickered at Tibby’s bold wink, but said nothing.
“When our brother inherited the title, he wished to cut us all off. But our parents had been wise and set up the fortune for their three daughters in such a way that it was out of his reach. Poor Victor, however, had no such safety. He was cut off entirely. This much, I trust you already know?”
Annie nodded and tried not to appear too eager.
Tibby sighed and her eyes took on a faraway look. “We did not see Victor for many years. He worked in trade, which is impressive, considering his lack of training. And he was madly in love with his wife, Eleanor, and she with him. She was an impressive woman, a rare Scottish beauty who commanded all attention to her. You can imagine, I suppose, who takes after her.”
“Marianne,” Annie breathed, feeling a bit caught up in the story.
Tibby nodded slowly. “Eleanor was more beautiful and attracted more attention than Marianne, if you can believe it. Victor, however, had grown used to his life as a hardworking tradesman and never cared much for the ways of the rich and reputable. I need not tell you how he was thought of by Society.”
Annie barely restrained a shudder.
“Eleanor did her best to prove they belonged, and she had quite the throng of admirers. Rumors began to spread about why she was the way she was, and why Victor was so rarely seen. Rumors of infidelity, of towering debts, of shameless extortion… There was nothing good to be said about them but it could not keep people from wanting to surround Eleanor all the time.” She snorted derisively and shook her head. “Poor Eleanor. She was determined to see to it that her children would not suffer again, and she only made it worse.”
A strange sort of tension began to swirl within Annie’s chest and her eyes began to water. “What kind of a mother was she?” she asked softly.
Tibby smiled at her. “As good as one might expect of her. Better, I think. She was kind and took an interest, but she was not really the mothering type. She made a far better wife than she did a mother.”
The lump that had been forming in Annie’s throat refused to dislodge itself. She swallowed repeatedly and blinked away tears. “What happened?”
Tibby sniffed. “Carriage accident. They were heading to the coast for a reprieve from their mess of a life.”
Annie could no longer restrain her tears, and they rolled silently down her cheeks.
Tibby composed herself, though shadows still remained etched on her face. “The rumors are mostly gone now. Duncan has had to face the brunt of them, and he has done a beautiful job of restoring respectability to the name. But Marianne…”
Annie winced and glanced at the door, as if the girl would enter. “Does she know?” she asked softly.
Tib
by shook her head. “Not a bit of it. How she has managed to avoid hearing things is beyond me, but she is not nearly as smart as she pretends to be. She is destined to have the same trouble as Eleanor did, if she is not careful. She is so like her. That is what has Duncan worried so. He cannot protect her forever.”
No, he could not. And he could not protect Annie forever either.
“How did you manage to…? That is…” The words seemed lost somewhere between her mind and her mouth, but Tibby smiled.
“How did I become so entangled with the children?”
Annie nodded, smiling in her relief.
“My sisters are idiots.”
A surprised cough escaped Annie. “I beg your pardon?”
“Were,” Tibby corrected with a tilt of her head. “I should say they were idiots. Both are now dead, and good riddance. They believed my eldest brother’s lies about Victor and wanted nothing to do with Duncan or Marianne.” She grinned rather maliciously. “You can imagine their distress when I, the wealthiest and most popular of all, named him my heir and put him in the best universities, ensured his commission in the army, and recommended the best finishing schools for Marianne.”
Annie grinned at Tibby. The woman had a flair for the dramatic, it was no secret, but she was also astonishingly brazen. It was at once a breath of fresh air and a jolt to one’s senses to be around her, both refreshing and unsettling.
Annie loved it.
“You do enjoy shocking people, don’t you?” She giggled softly and shook her head.
Tibby inclined her head in an acknowledging nod. “I do. But it was also the right thing to do. I never put stock into rumors. If I did, I should have to believe the most outrageous things about myself.”
Annie smiled at that. “And Duncan’s time in the army?”
“He was a very well respected officer,” Tibby said with a warm smile. “But we all knew he would be. He was gone for a number of years, and it was astonishing he returned home unscathed. He would tell you his own service was unremarkable, but we know better. He always put his men before himself, and the way Lord Beverton tells it, the men would have done the same.” She sighed a little, shaking her head. “He resigned his commission a few years ago, and made quite a fine living from it. Not that he needed to, he was well set up as it was. But Duncan is who he is, and he is his father’s son above all else.”
Annie sat in quiet reflection for a moment, feeling her heart warm the more she learned about the man she had come to London with. He was a far better man than she ever knew. “Thank you, Tibby,” she murmured softly, leaning over to kiss the other woman’s cheek. “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”
“No doubt of it, child.” Tibby patted her cheek softly and sighed. “Now. Enough seriousness. Go run and see what those girls are up to. I worry when I don’t hear them anymore.”
Annie obediently trotted away, then turned back. “Thank you for telling me, Tibby. I promise to keep your secrets. You can trust me.”
Tibby smiled at her, and Annie could have sworn she saw a hint of tears in her eyes. “I know, dear girl. I have always known that.”
Annie left quickly and had nearly made it up to her own room, where she could hear the low voices of her friends, when she passed Marianne’s rooms. She had passed them several times before, but for some reason, she could not simply walk by this time. She wanted to see Marianne, to try and rekindle their once blossoming friendship. Or at least, to not have her as an enemy.
She took a brave breath and knocked on the door. Marianne was likely out anyway. It was too fine a day to be indoors.
“Come in,” her clear vice rang out musically.
Annie blanched and swallowed with difficulty.
Now what?
She pushed open the door and saw Marianne sitting perfectly poised by her toilette as if she had been sitting for a painting. Every line and angle of her features was perfect and graceful, her gown so perfect for her coloring and form that it stunned her. How had someone created a shade of blue the exact color of her brilliant eyes? If Annie had needed any further reminder of how far below a person she could be, it was living and breathing here before her.
She should not have come. She should turn and run.
Marianne cleared her throat, and Annie stiffened as she realized she had been blatantly staring like a fool.
“I’m sorry,” Annie mumbled, beginning to wring her hands. Then she winced and forced her hands to separate, scolding herself for her nervous habits. She swallowed and raised her chin just enough that she would not look as if she was cowering. “That is, I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Bray. But I wondered if… I might have a word?”
She dared not hope that the light she saw in Marianne’s eyes was her being impressed, but she did not think it was one of cruelty. Marianne’s mouth quirked ever so slightly and she indicated the chair before her. “Of course, Annie. Please, have a seat. And you need not call me Miss Bray. Not here.”
Annie felt her breath rush from her and moved too quickly to the chair and sat without grace or elegance.
Marianne looked at her for quite a long while, then sighed and sat back in her own chair, all pretenses of superiority gone. “I am glad you came to see me. I have wanted to talk to you for days, but I couldn’t bring myself to seek you out. I am far too proud for that.”
Nothing could have shocked Annie more. “You… you did?”
Marianne nodded, and smiled almost apologetically. “It was hardly kind of me, and it is entirely unfair to you. It is not as though this whole carfuffle was of your making.”
The room was suddenly a bit warm as Annie realized that Marianne was not apologizing at all for her opinions. She still felt the same way, and Annie doubted there was anything she could say or do to change that. But she could live with that, if only they could be friends again.
Marianne surprised her further by taking her hand. “I hope you know, Annie, that this is not a reflection of my opinion of you. I think you are the sweetest, dearest girl in the world, and I am grateful that you have come among us. I cannot begin to imagine what your life has been like before now, and I am pleased to be able to help you change it even a little.”
Annie nodded once, ignoring the faintest wash of tears that was beginning to start.
“But,” Marianne said slowly, removing her hand, “I cannot agree to Tibby’s scheme. You see I have worked very hard to be the way I am. I know it is vain and silly of me, but I care very much about Society and being popular and wealthy. I am used to this life and have been brought up to desire it. And to have anyone, no matter how dear or sweet, infiltrate my world undeservingly…” She frowned and chewed on her lip for the briefest moment. “I don’t like that word. I think I should have said ‘without being born to it.’ Do you understand what I am saying?”
Annie did understand her. Far better than she could have imagined. But she couldn’t tell Marianne how false she felt in her lessons with Tibby and the other women. She couldn’t tell her how her single ambition was to prove to Duncan that she could be a strong, independent woman he could admire. She could not pretend that Marianne would understand her longing to belong somewhere, anywhere, even if it was beyond her dreams.
“I understand,” she said softly, forcing a small smile to her lips. “And I respect your opinions. You’re right, I would never have imagined this for myself. But the offer is so tempting, so perfectly far-fetched, that I…”
“Oh, you would be an idiot to refuse Tibby,” Marianne quipped with a rare grin. “She would have found a way to convince you one way or the other.”
Annie almost laughed in relief at the change in Marianne’s manner. “She told me that Duncan insisted it be my choice, and that she could not browbeat me into submission.”
“Did he, indeed?” Marianne looked far too thoughtful, and a brief flash of darkness entered her gaze. But then it was gone and she shrugged. “Well, good for him, I daresay. Tibby can be quite domineering. I am glad she is res
tricted.” She paused, watching Annie carefully, and then her shoulders sagged further. “How is it going?”
Annie didn’t know how to respond, as Marianne had quite plainly made it known she would not participate. What could she share?
“Well enough, I suppose,” Annie said indifferently. “I have much to learn and much further to go, but Moira and Kate and Mary seem to think I have potential. Tibby is…”
“Tibby is Tibby and nothing less,” Marianne commented with a dry snort.
Annie nodded. There really was no other way to say it.
“I was hoping that…” Annie began, but she trailed off uncertainly and looked at her feet.
“Yes?”
She met Marianne’s eyes again, wishing she could read them more clearly. “I was hoping that, in spite of our differences in opinion on this whole affair, that we might still… be friends? Here, at least. I understand we cannot in Society, and I hardly blame you. But while at home… I could use a friend.”
Marianne hesitated for so long that Annie felt her palms begin to moisten and she wondered if she had been too bold. She should leave. She should go to her friends who had undoubtedly made themselves giddy with imaginations on her wardrobe. This was a silly notion.
“I would like that very much.”
A jolt of shock rippled through her visibly as she looked back at Marianne, who smiled at her.
Marianne’s dark curls danced as she nodded. “I’ve missed you, Annie. I meant what I said before. I have the highest opinion of you. And I… I don’t have many friends. With you, I need not pretend.”
“Nor I,” she replied quietly.
Marianne’s smile was so warm and sweet that Annie was tempted to give her a hug. But they were not at that point. Not yet. Perhaps one day, but, as Marianne had pointed out before, there was her pride to consider.
“Annalise! Where in heaven’s name are you? These gowns are exquisite, you have to try them on now!”
She groaned, which made Marianne chuckle. “Fashion waits for no one, I am afraid.”
Annie gave her a helpless smile. “Apparently not.”
The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4) Page 16
