by Jane Ashford
The other two who had seen Anabel come in had moved toward each other soon after. Lady Goring and Amelia Lanforth had met recently, and despite the difference in their ages, they had discovered much in common. A series of meaningful looks at an evening party two nights before had assured them that they shared certain hopes for Anabel and Christopher. They had said nothing aloud, but tonight’s developments dissolved their reserve.
“He is going to offer for her,” said Amelia in a low voice when they had left a group of friends. “I can hardly believe it.”
Lady Goring did not have to ask whom she meant. Her daughter’s face when she returned to the ballroom, and Norbury’s, had told her a great deal. “I wish I had never made her come to London,” she repined.
“You think she’ll accept him?” Amelia’s eyes shifted to her brother. He was staring at Anabel in the most transparent way, she saw.
“I fear it, though I can’t say for certain.”
“Christopher will be so unhappy.”
Lady Goring merely shook her head. “Norbury is a great catch, but not the sort of man I would want for my daughter.”
“He seems to care for her,” replied Amelia, trying to be comforting. When the other did not answer, she added, “I suppose there is nothing we can do?”
“I have tried talking to her, more than once. She won’t listen.”
“Ah.” They watched the set end and the couples break apart. Hanford escorted Georgina to them and turned away without a word, almost stalking across the floor to Anabel. They watched him stop before her, speak, and then lead her away despite an involuntary restraining gesture from Norbury. Both men were frowning. Norbury stood alone for a moment, but he soon recognized that their exchange had drawn notice. He set his lips and walked out of the room.
Christopher, taking Anabel’s hand as the music started again, was silently grim. She did not see it at first, still too wrapped up in her own concerns. But as the dance went on and he did not speak, she finally looked up, encountering an angry gaze. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?”
She had never heard him use such a cold, angry tone. And she had never seen his face so haughty and withdrawn. This was not her old reliable friend Christopher but some daunting, fashionable stranger. Had the whole world gone mad?
“Perhaps I am disappointed to see you become one of the on-dits of the town,” he added between his teeth, “if you wish to make a fool of yourself in public, I cannot, of course…”
This was too much, after her embarrassing return to the ballroom. How could he imagine she had done it on purpose? “It is none of your affair what I do!” she snapped.
He had to wait a moment before answering. He was so angry that he was afraid he would shout. “Perhaps not,” he managed finally, “though some would say that years of friendship gave me a claim. However, as you do not acknowledge that, and since you appear to have no respect for my opinions, I—”
“Please say no more!” Anabel’s brain was whirling. In nearly ten years she and Christopher had had no such disagreements. She had always believed that they had wholly congenial tempers and ideas. And even if he disapproved of her conduct tonight, not realizing that it had been unintentional, she did not understand why he should attack her so viciously. Could he not see how it hurt her? Indeed, it hurt so much that she was having trouble keeping time to the dance. That strangers might think her imprudent had been upsetting; that Christopher should was somehow many times worse. It seemed to Anabel that everything in her life was going awry.
They finished the set in silence. Hanford’s mouth was thin and unforgiving, and Anabel kept her perpetually tearing eyes on the floor. She was miserable, and had never been more grateful than when the music ended and she could retreat upstairs to the room set aside for the ladies.
Christopher left the ball without speaking to anyone. He couldn’t bear any more talking, and his heart sank when he thought of the future. Anabel was slipping away from him, and he was helpless to do anything about it.
Eight
Sir Charles was exactly on time the following morning. Anabel received him in the library rather than the drawing room because her mother’s reaction to the impending visit had been so carefully unemotional that Anabel decided it would be better if they did not meet. She had put on a white muslin gown delicately striped with a blue that matched her eyes and dressed her soft brown hair in curls, but she did not feel she looked her best. She had not slept well after the ball. Consciousness of the approaching decision and worry over Christopher and the children had kept her tossing on her pillow for hours.
Anabel had never endured such uncertainty. The large problems of life had always been settled by someone else. Her father had decreed her marriage, then Ralph had taken his place. When Ralph died, she had naturally turned to Christopher for help with the arrangements and all business matters. Anabel had run her house and cared for her children, but she had never really determined the course of her life. Now, with her mother noncommittal and Christopher incomprehensibly cold and withdrawn, she had to, and the knowledge made her uneasy.
Norbury looked splendid in a coat of olive-green superfine and buff pantaloons. His Hessian boots gleamed as he followed the footman into the room, and his waistcoat was a model of fashion and propriety. As she held out her hand to him Anabel thought how handsome he was. He was the most impressive figure she had ever been intimate with.
“I hope you have recovered from last night,” he said with a smile.
Her heart beat faster. “Yes.” She didn’t feel able to tell him she felt tired and heavy-eyed.
“Shall we sit down?”
“Oh. Of course.” Moving to the sofa before the fireplace, she did so. Norbury sat close beside her.
“I can think of nothing else, so I will come directly to the point,” he went on. His green eyes were very serious. “I believe you know what I wish to say to you. I have fallen in love with you and hope you will be my wife.”
Anabel trembled a little. Though she had expected the question, still, to hear it was exciting. She looked up and met his steady gaze. The gossips had been eager to tell her of Norbury’s past flirtations; her own mother had made it clear that he was a man of wide experience and impervious heart. He had examined scores of debutantes with a jaundiced eye and sampled the charms of a series of stunning older women, but he had never offered his hand. Anabel was by no means unaware of her unique position. His proposal would cause a sensation. She would be envied and honored for her conquest. It was terribly flattering to be the choice of such a man. His wealth and position were nothing to it.
And the man himself was an added inducement. As always in his presence, Anabel felt fascinated and attracted. Sir Charles radiated confidence. Something in the set of his head, the way he moved and looked at her, made her vibrate with an unidentifiable tension. The memory of his touch made her feel slightly faint. He overwhelmed her.
“You must say something, you know,” he said.
The command made her look down again. What did she want? she wondered. She didn’t really know. Her wants had always been supplied to her almost before they were formulated. She had wanted what she had been expected to desire and accepted others’ giving of it. Her father, Ralph, Christopher, had seemed certain of what was right, and she had left matters to them. She was accustomed to that. Now, for the first time, she was being asked to choose for herself—and her choice did not have to be the safe one. Meeting Norbury’s eyes again, and feeling that quivering thrill, she slowly nodded. “Yes.”
He smiled and took her hand, letting out his breath. “You made me quite uneasy for a moment. I didn’t realize how difficult it could be to wait for a word.” He kissed her hand. “I shall do my utmost to be an exemplary husband, Anabel. As I am sure you have been told, my record is not a good one. But that is past. Having met you, I am yours alone.”
Anabel said
nothing. She was feeling confused. Having made her decision, she ought to be happy, she thought, but she felt only relief that it was over and she need worry no longer.
“Why so silent?” he teased, putting his arm along the sofa back around her shoulders. “You have not even assured me you return my flattering sentiments, you know.”
Gazing at him, Anabel could see that his light tone masked sincerity. He wanted her to say she loved him. She opened her mouth to do so—she must or she would not have accepted him—and stopped. It suddenly seemed to her that she didn’t know what the word meant. Or, more to the point, she didn’t know in this case. She loved her mother and had loved her father; she adored her children. But for her husband she had always felt a kind of warm, ironic affection different from both of these feelings and very different from those Sir Charles elicited. If she had loved Ralph…but had she? Perhaps not; perhaps what she felt now was really love—this trembling excitement and uncertainty. “I…I do.” She faltered, her voice sounding false in her own ears.
Norbury did not seem to hear it. He smiled and drew her closer. “I had begun to fear that this moment would never come, that I would never find a woman with whom I could spend my life. You are very precious to me, Anabel.” Bending, he kissed her. Once again Anabel felt that melting sensation in all her bones. His practiced hands knew just how to move, and she felt as if she were being carried away by an irresistible tide. She was powerless, motiveless; all her senses swam.
It was some time before Norbury pulled away. His breathing had quickened, and his green eyes were clouded with desire. He held her away from him and laughed shakily. “Enough of that, I’m afraid. I can’t answer for myself otherwise. You fill my veins with fire, Anabel.”
She blushed a little, half flattered, half confused. No one had ever said such things to her before.
He took a deep breath and straightened. “When shall the wedding be? Soon.”
“I…” She hadn’t thought further than the proposal.
“Next month? There is no reason for us to wait.”
“But I must tell my mother, my family.”
He smiled. “That will hardly take a month. Let us set it for a month from today.”
He was so eager that she found it hard to resist him. But she wasn’t ready to go this far. “We can decide that later, can we not? There is so much to do.”
Norbury frowned, then shrugged. “Very well. I’ll send the announcement to the Morning Post today, and you can begin your vast preparations.” He smiled again. “You must come down to Kent and meet my mother. She doesn’t get to London now. She will be delighted. Shall I tell her next week?”
“I…” Anabel felt overwhelmed by all these sudden plans.
“We don’t want to leave it too long.”
“I suppose I can.”
“Splendid. I’ll write her today.”
She made an effort to contribute something. “You must become better acquainted with my children also. Shall we go out together?”
Norbury’s smile faded a bit. In his infatuation with Anabel, he had tried to forget that she was burdened with a family. He didn’t want to think of her as another man’s wife or as the mother of any but his children. “Of course.”
She caught the change in his tone and looked up anxiously. “I’m sure you will love them when you know them.”
“No doubt.”
“When shall we go? Monday, perhaps?”
“I had thought of starting for Kent Monday.”
“Oh. Well, before that, then.” She frowned. “They are right here, after all. You needn’t go anywhere.”
Seeing her growing concern, he nodded. “I can be free for a while on Saturday morning.”
It seemed a grudging acceptance, and Anabel’s frown remained.
“Where would they like to go, do you think?” he added. “I know very little about children.”
“They love the park. We could go walking.”
He nearly grimaced, but her expression made him suppress it. There would be plenty of time to deal with the children later. “I will see what I can arrange.”
She smiled, relieved, though he had set no time.
“And now I should go, I suppose.” He rose. “We shall be very busy for the next few weeks.”
She got up and walked with him to the library door. There he paused and pulled her into his arms again, molding the length of her body to his. Anabel put her arms around him, feeling the movement of hard muscle in his back. “I can scarcely wait so long,” he murmured before bending to kiss her again.
Only his embrace held her upright as his hands caressed her shoulders and back. She was again swept away by a tide of intense sensation. Her brain whirled with it, and when he drew away again, she found it hard to breathe.
“I shall see you tonight,” he said, smiling. “And the announcement will be published tomorrow.” He went into the front hall, and she followed him shakily.
When he was gone, Anabel returned to the library for a few moments to regain her composure. She must go upstairs and tell her mother and the children, she knew, but not just yet. She wanted to explore her own feelings first. She should be happy, she thought, but she wasn’t. She was breathless and confused, and wished she had someone to talk with about the events of the day. Her mother would be unsympathetic, and there was no other woman in London to whom she could turn. She thought suddenly of Christopher. How comforting it would be to ask his advice and receive his usual sane, sensible counsel. The thought of Christopher was like a rock in the swirling chaos of her emotions. He would know what was right. But as soon as she thought it, she shook her head. She couldn’t go to him about this. Even had they been on their former easy footing, it wouldn’t be proper. And now that Christopher was so changed, it was out of the question.
Abruptly Anabel felt terribly dispirited. Her life had been so simple once; now it seemed unmanageably complex. And for the first time she had no one to turn to for help. This, naturally, led her thoughts to Sir Charles. He was the logical source of aid after this morning. But somehow she could not imagine going to him with her problems. He was not that sort of person. And he was too much a part of her uncertainty to understand or judge it.
Sighing, Anabel rose and started upstairs. She had to speak to her mother. The announcement would come out tomorrow, and she must be told well before then.
Lady Goring was sitting with Georgina in the drawing room, looking over some new dress patterns. But she looked up when Anabel came in, her expression concerned. “I have good news, Mama,” said Anabel.
Her mother’s face went rigid. “Yes, dear?”
“Sir Charles Norbury and I are going to be married.”
Lady Goring nodded, as if taking an expected blow, and said, “I see. And are you very sure, Anabel, that this is what you want?”
Her own doubts receded before opposition. “Of course, Mama. I should not have accepted otherwise.”
“Yes. Well, I wish you happy, dear.” Lady Goring rose and embraced her daughter, smiling with an effort.
“Sir Charles Norbury?” put in Georgina, who had been sitting very still, eyes wide, since Anabel made her announcement. “How can you?”
“What do you mean?” asked Anabel, annoyed.
The girl blushed furiously. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud.”
“Sir Charles is a very charming man.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. I mean, I hardly know him, and I am sure he is much kinder with you. I don’t…that is, I never…” She paused, struggling to amend her slip. “He frightens me, that’s all.”
“Frightens you?” In her defensive anger, Anabel was contemptuous. “That’s ridiculous!”
Georgina nodded humbly. “I daresay it is only because I am so unfamiliar with society. He just seems so grand and…above everyone. If I should have to speak
to him, I should be terrified of receiving a dreadful setdown.”
Lady Goring looked as if she agreed, but she said nothing.
“Nonsense,” replied Anabel, with an uncomfortable feeling that there was something in what Georgina said. Charles did not particularly enjoy talking to her. “And you will speak to him. Often. He will be here a great deal now.”
“Oh.” Georgina looked apprehensive, then brightened. “But he will wish to be with you, of course.”
Anabel’s frown led her mother to intervene. “We must have him to dinner soon, to meet the whole family. Will you discover a good day, Anabel?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose we must have your great-aunts. It is too bad your papa is so far off, Georgina.”
The girl seemed doubtful about this, but she said nothing.
“I will be going to Kent to visit the Norburys next week,” added Anabel.
“Ah. Old Lady Norbury is quite formidable, I understand.” Lady Goring had been observing her daughter carefully, and her eyes were now brighter with cautious hope. Anabel did not show the bubbling happiness a love match usually engendered. Indeed, she looked positively petulant. Perhaps there was still a chance.
“I must go up and tell the children,” was her daughter’s only reply. As Anabel turned and left the room Lady Goring exchanged a glance with Georgina. Then she opened the pattern book once again.
On the stairs, Anabel felt immediate relief. Mama might really have more sympathy with her, she thought. One could not expect Georgina to understand anything, but Mama should try to enter into her feelings. She was no green girl attaching herself to a fortune hunter, after all. Charles was eminently eligible, a great catch in fact. It would be very good to reach the nursery. Her children had been her greatest source of happiness and comfort for years now.
