by Jane Ashford
In any other circumstances the boys would have pelted him with eager questions about the Quorn, but Norbury’s position in the family, and the fact that he made no move to invite them to hunt with him or even to suggest that they might at some future time, left them silent.
Sir Charles, annoyed at their unresponsiveness, turned to Susan. “And what do you like?” he asked. “I suppose you have a great many…dolls?”
His tone was condescending, and Susan, who had one much-beloved rag doll and a host of less important ones, pursed her small mouth and shook her head. “I hate dolls!”
Norbury raised his eyebrows again.
“I believe dinner must be ready,” blurted Anabel, looking beseechingly at her mother.
Lady Goring had been letting events take their course with some satisfaction, but now she took pity on her daughter. “Yes, I think we might go in.” Rising, she took Norbury’s arm and started toward the dining room. “Did you notice Julia Buckingham’s new town carriage at the ball last night, Sir Charles?” she asked. “That’s the third this year, is it not? I hope Buckingham can stand the nonsense.”
Norbury responded wittily, and the first half of the meal passed in similar remarks between the two. He repeatedly sought to bring Anabel into the conversation, but she was too conscious of the children, silent and ignored, eating their dinner without looking up from their plates. Georgina occasionally spoke to them, but tonight she elicited no more than monosyllables.
With the second course came another silence. Lady Goring had exhausted her fund of gossip, and in any case she wished to give her daughter another dose of reality. She addressed herself to a Chantilly cream. “This is very fine, isn’t it, William?” she said.
William, who was fond of sweets, nodded enthusiastically.
“I forgot to ask. Did you have a good ride in the park on Friday? Were the horses from the livery suitable?”
“They were slugs,” answered Nicholas. “But better than nothing. We had some first-class games with Uncle Christopher.”
“Yes,” seconded William heartily.
“We like Uncle Christopher better than anybody,” offered Susan.
Her brothers seemed to feel that this was going too far. They fell silent again and concentrated on their plates.
“‘Uncle’ Christopher?” queried Norbury. “Ah. That would be the fellow I met here one day. Hanford, wasn’t it? One of your bucolic neighbors.”
His tone made Anabel’s cheeks redden slightly. But before she could reply, Georgina snapped, “He is a wonderful man!”
“Is he?” Norbury eyed her with cool amusement. “I must become better acquainted with him.”
Georgina turned fiery red and looked down.
“He is a good friend and a close neighbor,” said Anabel. “I don’t know what I would have done without him when Ralph died.”
“Indeed?” He looked less pleased.
“Shall we remove to the drawing room?” asked Lady Goring. She was happy to see Anabel learning some home truths about Norbury, but she had no intention of letting things get out of hand. “You must come with us, Sir Charles. We are a household of females and have no proper port.”
They returned to the drawing room, and the children went to bed soon after, followed by Georgina. At this, the situation eased somewhat, and Anabel found conversation easier. But when Lady Goring excused herself a little later and Charles came to sit close beside her on the sofa, she was not in the mood for dalliance. “It didn’t go particularly well,” she said.
“What?” He seemed honestly puzzled.
“The dinner. I had hoped you and the children would…like one another.”
“Like?” He frowned in perplexity. “I daresay we shall rub along quite well eventually. The boys must go off to school, of course; it is past time. And as for Susan”—he smiled provocatively at her—“I have not yet encountered the female I could not captivate.” His arm tightened around her shoulders.
Thinking that he was unlikely to have encountered one like her daughter, Anabel sat very straight. “I am not sure I wish to send them to school. I put it off because I wanted them with me.”
He shrugged, smiling. “There is no need to discuss it now. You will be making a great many changes. Pleasant ones, I hope.” Bending his head, he kissed her.
Gradually Anabel relaxed against his arm, feeling again that languorous helplessness Charles always produced in her. His free hand wandered along her silk-clad body, and slowly she brought one arm up and about his neck. The kiss seemed to go on forever. Anabel’s annoyance and objections slipped from her mind; she felt reasonless, without volition.
When he drew back, he was breathing rapidly, his hand at rest on her hip. “Lovely Anabel,” he murmured. “Do you know how I love you? There is no woman like you in the world.”
She gazed into his pale green eyes, still tremulous from his caress. He cared about her. It was obvious. But what did she feel, beyond that pliant loss of will? She was less and less certain, and that fact was increasingly unsettling. “It’s late,” she said.
He laughed a little. “Don’t you trust me? You can, you know. And that is more than could be said for almost any woman I have known. Do you feel your power?” He pulled her closer and kissed her again, then straightened and rose. “I will go, with great reluctance. We must set a wedding date, Anabel. Very soon.”
“I…I haven’t thought.”
He laughed again. “Well, do so, my heart’s darling. Think very hard.” He took her hand and kissed the palm. “And dream of me.” With a last flashing smile, he went out.
She looked at her hand for a moment, then let it fall and suddenly shivered. She didn’t understand anything anymore, least of all herself. Events seemed to be rushing forward, out of control. She knew she had to do something, but what? She didn’t even know what she wanted. She had thought she did; she had been dazzled by possibilities and new sensations. Now nothing was clear. Her brain seemed to whirl dizzyingly from one image to another, never pausing long enough for her to really see any. Her emotions were in turmoil. And no one could help her.
With a sigh, Anabel turned toward the stairs. She would have difficulty sleeping again tonight, she could tell. But it did no good to stand here and worry. Perhaps time would solve her problems for her.
* * *
The following day was very quiet in Lady Goring’s household. Anabel did not go out. She prepared for her journey to Kent and spent a great deal of time sitting and thinking. In the afternoon she went up to the schoolroom to tell the children she would be away for a short time, and met the predictable unenthusiastic response. As she was coming down the stairs again she encountered Georgina, dressed for the street and accompanied by her maid. She looked excited. “Are you going out?” asked Anabel.
“Yes.” The girl smiled. “I am invited to tea with Amelia Lanforth. It is so close that I am going to walk.”
Anabel felt chagrin. Why was her cousin asked to the Lanforths and not she? She had known Christopher for years, certainly his sister might have included her in the invitation. They had chatted at several gatherings, and though they had never had an opportunity to become well acquainted, Anabel liked Mrs. Lanforth very much. She would have been happy to see her more intimately. Had Christopher’s inexplicable new coldness spread to his sister? She frowned.
“I must go,” added Georgina. “I don’t want to be late.” And with a sense of half-guilty relief, she skipped past and down to the hall. Georgina was finding Anabel puzzling lately. Her older cousin seemed either abstracted or overanimated, and the previous evening had been dreadful.
At the Lanforths, Georgina was taken directly up to the drawing room and greeted with a smile by Amelia. They had confirmed their mutual passion for novels during a visit Amelia had made to Lady Goring after the announcement of Anabel’s engagement, and they both looked forward to a long,
cozy chat comparing all their favorites.
They settled on the sofa and fortified themselves with cups of strong tea. But before they could really begin, the drawing-room door opened and Christopher came in. Georgina’s eyes brightened, and her cup rattled slightly in its saucer.
“Christopher,” said Amelia. “I thought you had gone out riding.”
“Yes. But I returned early. The park is too crowded. Will you give me some tea?” He smiled also, but his voice and stance conveyed depression.
“Of course.” She poured out another cup. “But I give you fair warning we mean to talk about novels. We have met just for that purpose, and you won’t stop us.”
Hanford’s smile became more genuine. “Ah. Didn’t I tell you, Miss Goring, that my sister’s interest in them equaled your own?”
Georgina nodded, speechless with joy at his joining them.
“And do you have favorites in common?” he added.
“We haven’t discovered that yet.” Amelia smiled at the girl. “I am excessively attached to Mrs. Radcliffe.”
“Oh, yes! I have never been so frightened as when the wicked duke…” They fell into an energetic exchange, and Christopher allowed their voices to fade into a background for his thoughts. Despite his resolutions, he was finding it extremely difficult to remain in London. He thought of nothing but Anabel, though he rarely saw her. And he had nothing to do. At home he would manage his estate and ride out every day. Here there were only parties which reminded him again of his loss. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure it.
“Yes, I was reading it only last night before Sir Charles came to dinner,” said Georgina.
Hanford looked up. “Norbury came to dinner yesterday?”
She turned to him. “Yes. Anabel wanted him to meet the children and…become friends.” Her tone was so doubtful that both her listeners understood the attempt had not met with success. Christopher felt a rush of guilty joy.
“I suppose the children are not very pleased about the engagement,” said Amelia. And as the others looked at her she added, “They rarely are in such cases. It is a great change.”
Georgina, frowning over this novel viewpoint, slowly nodded, “I think you are right. I have never seen them so sullen as last night. Of course, Sir Charles did not help. He does not know how to talk to children.”
This naive statement made Amelia smile and Christopher lean forward, unconsciously avid. Georgina noticed it, and compared his earlier despondence with the intense eagerness in his eyes now. A revelation swept over her, and she sat back abruptly, stricken.
“I admit I do not see how they will go on together,” said Hanford. “Norbury is settled in London. He goes into the country only to visit or hunt. But I cannot imagine Anabel or the children staying here permanently.”
“He…he means to send the boys to school,” managed Georgina. Her throat seemed to be obstructed by a large lump.
“School. Well, it is time they went. But I should have thought Anabel would want to decide. Is she going to let him take over her life?” This last came out charged with emotion and, realizing it, Christopher shut his mouth and turned a little away.
Georgina scanned his profile and wondered at the confusion of emotions she felt. It hurt to discover that the man she so admired was in love with someone else; yet she could not help but see the logic of it. He had known Anabel for years, and her cousin was very lovely and charming. To her own surprise, she realized that her strongest response was pity. She wished she could do something to comfort Hanford and to change things so that he might be happy. She loved him, but… “I…I think Anabel was a little annoyed with him when he suggested it,” she ventured.
Amelia, hearing the quaver in her voice, looked sharply at her. What she saw made her eyes soften and a slight smile curve her lips. Unconsciously she reached over and patted the girl’s hand. When Georgina looked up, startled, she said, “More tea?” knowing that to acknowledge the girl’s state would be unforgivable.
Georgina shook her head, turning back to Christopher.
“Annoyed? Was she really?” he could not resist asking.
“Yes. It was not at all a pleasant evening.” She wanted desperately to cheer him.
“Ah.”
“And I heard Lady Goring say that Sir Charles’s mother is disagreeable. So perhaps when Anabel goes to Kent to visit her—”
“She is going out of town?”
“Yes. Tomorrow. But only for a day.”
Hanford leaned his head on his hand briefly, then straightened. “I beg your pardon. I have remembered something I must do. Please excuse me.” He left the room in three strides, the women silent behind him. Georgina anxiously watched the door close, and Amelia watched her.
“Will he be all right?” the girl asked finally.
Amelia shrugged.
“It is so… I didn’t know… I would never have…”
“You did splendidly,” Amelia assured her. “Your aunt—and your father, no doubt—would be proud of you. Indeed, I am.”
Georgina frowned doubtfully at her, biting her lower lip. She felt exposed.
Amelia bent to pour more tea. “But you were telling me about a new book you have found. I must hear all about it. I have been searching for something fresh to read this age.”
Georgina took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. What book had she been talking about? She had no idea.
“Was it called The Count’s Revenge?” prompted Amelia.
“Oh. Oh, yes.” And with a massive effort she took up her description again.
In the library downstairs, Christopher sat alone, head bent. Anabel was going away; she had freely accepted another man, and she continued to ignore his feelings. He had never felt so low in his life as he did at that moment. All hope of happiness seemed gone. He would gladly have throttled Sir Charles Norbury, but he had no excuse to do so. The children’s dislike was no motive. Anabel liked him—loved him!—and that tied his hands and racked his heart.
Eleven
Anabel departed for the visit to Norbury’s family at ten the following morning. She was not at all eager to make the journey, feeling that many things required her attention at home, but she had agreed to go and Charles seemed set on it. As they would spend only one night at his mother’s and return the following afternoon, she made no objections when he arrived in his traveling carriage and handed her in.
The drive was about three hours, and during it Charles was once again the charming, sophisticated companion she had admired at ton parties. He did not make love to her; rather, he pointed out sights along their route, reminisced about his childhood trips on that road, and asked her opinion about various arrangements he had made. Before long she was feeling more in charity with him than she had for a while, and she laughed at his sallies unrestrainedly.
“You have told me nothing about your family,” she said as they began the last stage of the journey. “I know I am to meet your mother. Will there be others as well?”
“I fear so. My marriage is such an astonishing development that every ambulatory Norbury has gathered to witness the miracle.” He looked comical, and she laughed again.
“But who is that? You must prepare me.”
“I dare not. You might simply jump out of the chaise and leave me to face them alone.”
“Perhaps I shall if you keep me wondering what I am in for.”
Norbury smiled. “Very well. Besides my mother, whom you will like very much, I think, there will be two uncles with their families. One is my late father’s younger brother and the other my mother’s older one. Enough?”
“Not at all. How many cousins?”
He groaned. “Three. But we are fortunate. There are three more who will not be present for one reason or another.”
“You don’t get on with them?”
“We cord
ially despise one another, and have since we were in short coats.”
Anabel looked doubtful; this didn’t sound like a happy family.
“Don’t judge until you have met them,” added Norbury.
After a moment she nodded. “Have you no brothers or sisters?”
“None. The explanation, according to one of my uncles, of all my character flaws. Overindulgence.”
“You are making me dread this visit, Charles.”
“You asked to be warned. You see I am being completely honest with you.” He grinned. “It is unlike me.”
“Well, I think you are teasing me. They are probably all very pleasant people.”
He smiled. “You may decide for yourself. Here we are.”
Anabel looked out the window. They had turned in at a massive stone gate and were trotting up an avenue lined with oaks. At the end, she could see a pillared portico of gray stone, windows glittering in the afternoon sun. Well-kept gardens extended around the sides to the back, and the place had an air of carefully controlled wealth. She turned back, to find Norbury gazing at her expectantly. “It is beautiful.”
“Is it not? Your new home.”
Inevitably this made Anabel think of the less grand but comfortable and familiar house she had left behind. It would be very hard to abandon it for this.
They pulled up to the front door with a flourish, and it opened before they could climb down. A liveried footman ushered them into the hall and took their wraps as another fetched the luggage and a third waited to escort them farther into the house. Anabel was startled by the number of servants. Seeing her expression, Norbury said, “My mother holds to the formalities of her girlhood. She will laugh about it, but she will not give them up. Come, let us go and see her.”
“Shouldn’t I go upstairs first?” She put a hand to her hair, wondering if the curls had been crushed by her hat.
“You look lovely.” He smiled and took her hand, and Anabel allowed him to lead her up to the spacious drawing room on the first floor.
At first glance, it seemed remarkably full of people. Two sofas were occupied, and a number of gentlemen were leaning against the mantelpiece or turning the pages of newspapers. Anabel hesitated. Norbury squeezed her hand reassuringly, then guided her in, a hand on her elbow. They stopped before an imposing woman, clad in dark green, on one of the sofas, and he said, “Mama, this is Anabel. My mother.”
