by Martha Keyes
Anne stiffened, a stricken look in her eyes.
“I determined,” Mr. Hackett said, “that I would do whatever I could to avenge the wrong done to him. When I discovered he had a daughter of marriageable age, I laid out my plans." He hit his hat against his knee, looking down with a chin that jutted out thoughtfully.
"I was certain that you would be just like your father," he said. "Just like all the members of high society whom I so despised. Only, when I began to know you, it became apparent that such was not the case. And yet, my goal was in sight. You were falling in love with me."
Tobias clenched his jaw, anger and jealousy flaring up so hot that he found it hard to breathe.
"I was convinced that the ends justified the means, that I was not hurting you but your father, who deserved it. So, when I received word that my friend's mother was in dire circumstances and in need of monetary assistance, I fled, just as I had planned."
Tobias willed himself to look at Anne, fearful of what he would see. Would it be longing? Nostalgia? Pain? Anger?
But her face was impassive, her eyes blank, as if they were looking straight through Mr. Hackett. "And what of Louisa? You failed to mention her. Or your child. Or why you felt to abandon them who had surely done nothing to merit such a cowardly action."
Mr. Hackett tapped a hand on the top of his hat. "It is true that they did not deserve it. But I did it to protect them. I was not as wise as I should have been with the money I acquired—"
"Stole," Anne said. "You stole the money."
"From someone who had himself done nothing to deserve it!"
It was the first flaring of Mr. Hackett's temper—the first evidence of how deeply he believed he had done right.
"Regardless," Mr. Hackett said, exhaling as he placed his hat back on his head, "I always intended to return to James and Louisa once I could support them properly. I had to leave to protect them."
Silence reigned.
"And are you now in a position to do so?" Anne asked.
Mr. Hackett grimaced. "I regret to say that I am not."
"And yet you are here," Anne said, and Tobias felt a sense of pride in his wife's cool composure—and, strangely, even a little hope from it.
"I needed to see my son," Mr. Hackett said softly. He looked up at her with pleading in his eyes, and the impulse to send another fist at the man assailed Tobias. Anne was not immune to such pleading. "Please don't turn them away because of me."
Anne looked at Tobias. "We would hardly punish them for your sins."
Mr. Hackett shut his eyes and put his hands palm to palm in a gesture of gratitude. "Thank you. I knew that you had too kind a heart to turn them away."
The door opened, and Mr. Hackett turned.
"Nicky," Louisa said, sending a smile at Anne and Tobias as she held James on her hip. "Come hold James, if you please, while I help Mrs. Turner and her children prepare dinner."
Mr. Hackett bowed to Anne and Tobias and hurried toward the door, leaving the two of them in the street, staring after him.
Anne turned toward Tobias and reached for his hand. “How is your hand?"
But Tobias drew it away, cupping the throbbing fist in his other hand. Anne's hand hung in the air for a moment and then dropped to her side, a hurt look in her eyes.
Absent the threat of Mr. Hackett, Tobias could feel his emotions undergoing a shift. He didn't want to feel angry; he didn't want to be the cause of that look in Anne's eyes. And yet it was too difficult to be near her, knowing she had lied to him, not knowing how she felt about Mr. Hackett.
"I think I shall walk home now," he said, keeping his eyes trained down the lane. He took in a breath, hating the way he could feel the blood course through his veins. It was too keen a reminder of all the times he had warily watched the vein in his father's forehead, forewarning a burst of temper.
He turned toward Hazelhurst and began the walk home.
"Tobias, wait."
He shut his eyes and then turned. Anne stood before him, hands going still from the way she had been wringing them in front of her.
"May I join you?" she said softly.
He clenched his jaw to control his whirling emotions. She had just suffered no small shock, and he wished to be the one to comfort her, to talk her through it. And yet...
"You didn't tell me," he said. "You didn't tell me, even though you knew."
Anne's head dropped for a moment before she returned her eyes to meet his. "It was wrong of me, Tobias. And I am very sorry indeed. I thought—and Louisa thought, too—that he had abandoned them for good. And so I told myself that his identity was irrelevant; that all that mattered was helping Louisa and James."
Tobias shook his head in frustration. Was this the truth? How could he know or trust her? "I asked you," he said, "and you told me you didn't know how she came to be here. That wasn't true, was it?"
Anne swallowed and shook her head. "He told her to come to me; he left her a note."
Tobias let out a gush of breath through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, his jaw set. "He cannot stay here."
Anne stared at him, more hesitation in her eyes. "Why? You saw how Louisa looked at him, Tobias. It might break her heart to send him away. And to deprive James of his father?"
"He is making a May game of you, Anne! Exploiting your kindness! Can you not see that?" The words came out loud and angry, and he saw Anne flinch slightly. It made him sick to see, and yet he doubted whether he could stop himself. He forced himself to take a breath. "Who is to say that there aren't more women like you and Mrs. Hackett?"
Anne shook her head. "You heard his explanation and his story. He has committed great wrongs; certainly I would be the first to attest to that. Nor do I think that he is changed or reformed. But I am not concerned with him, Tobias. I am concerned with Louisa and James and what is best for them."
Tobias scoffed. "And you think that he is what is best for them? He has duped you once—he can dupe you again. And yet you haven't the self-respect to prevent it? For you or for Louisa?"
It was the first time he had seen a shred of anger in his wife. Or was it only hurt?
He, who had prided himself on his good humor and likability, was hurling injurious words at his wife. At Anne—the kindest woman he knew.
But was it kindness to sit back and watch this cur Nicholas Hackett wriggle his way back into the lives of Anne and Louisa? With never a repercussion?
He shook his head. "I will not house such a character in my village. I want him gone tomorrow."
Anne stood motionless, a wounded look in her eyes that tore at Tobias's heart. She nodded stiffly and turned toward the Turner house.
"No," Tobias said. The thought of Anne even in the same room with the man made Tobias's blood boil. He couldn't remember feeling such strong, negative emotions. Not ever.
When he spoke, his voice was soft but firm. "Let him have this night with his wife and child. I will inform him tomorrow."
He turned on his heel and began the cold, solitary walk home, praying that Anne would not attempt to join him—he didn't want to hurt her more—and yet sick inside at the thought of her left alone in the road; sick at the thought of the wall that had so suddenly cropped up between them, cold and hard.
Impenetrable.
14
Anne watched her husband walk off down the lane, her eyes burning, her heart aching.
She couldn't blame him for his reaction, even if it surprised her with its force.
She had lied to him, after all, and it made her sick to think about—that Tobias should feel a reason to mistrust her, to doubt her. What would he say if he knew of the way Anne's heart had begun to depend on him—how he seemed to control its rhythm?
She could run after him and explain that this marriage of convenience was somehow morphing into an arrangement that was hardly convenient at all, so full was it of every emotion Anne had determined to avoid.
She could explain the terror that she had felt when considering how to
let Tobias know that she wished to take in the wife of her last husband and what that would make him think.
She could explain that she had fallen in love with the very man with whom she had promised to share a life of mutual noninterference; that she missed him when he was gone; that for some time now, she had been wondering what it would be like to wake in the morning beside him, to hear his steady breathing next to her and know that he was hers; how terrified she was of being rejected by the husband she had sworn to herself she would never open herself up to.
But how could he believe her? She knew what it was to be lied to, to feel as though everything you believed was suddenly in doubt, not to be trusted.
She had heard the disgust in his voice and in the way he had scoffed. He thought her pathetic for giving into Nicholas Hackett—and one could not love a person one pitied.
And what was she to make of what Mr. Hackett had said? Was it the truth? She shut her eyes tightly. The thought that her father could be responsible for the things he had said made her feel ill. Somewhere people were suffering because of her father’s choices; somewhere there was a woman without a son—Anne’s own half-brother.
It was all too much.
"Are you well, my lady?"
She turned to the villager, hefting a large sack over his shoulder, and forced a smile. "Yes, thank you."
She had been standing in the road for she knew not how long. Tobias was likely home, perhaps dressing for dinner, even.
The light was dimming around her, but the clouds concealed the sun too well for her to tell just how low it was on the horizon.
She sighed and began the walk home, wondering how she would face Tobias over dinner after what had passed between them.
But Tobias was not there when she arrived back at Hazelhurst.
"I believe that he is in the stables,” said Spears. “He said he was going to Mr. Birford's and not to expect him until tomorrow."
Anne forced down the catch in her throat and nodded at the butler. The sound of hoofbeats came through the window, and Anne watched as Tobias and his horse cantered down the lane toward the village road.
"I think I have a touch of the headache, Spears," she said. "I haven't much of an appetite, I'm afraid. If you could instruct Cook to serve the dinner she prepared to the servants, I think I shall go lie down. You may tell my maid that she may have the night off."
Spears looked at her with a hint of concern but nodded. "Very good, my lady."
She took the stairs slowly until she was certain that Spears was out of earshot, then hurried up the remainder of the staircase, putting a hand to her temple and shutting her eyes.
Tobias had left. He couldn't even stand to be with her.
She threw back the coverlet on her bed and, half-boots still on, climbed in, ignoring how the pins in her hair poked into her head. Somehow she felt she deserved the discomfort, deserved to be in pain.
It was silly, of course. And yet it was how she felt. Hopeless and dejected. Wishing fiercely that she could return to the time when all was well and calm between Tobias and her, when he had looked on her with eyes sparkling with laughter instead of the displeasure she had seen in the village.
The shock she had felt upon seeing Anthony—Mr. Hackett—had quickly been eclipsed by the emotion from what had passed between her and Tobias.
And yet now she sat with all of those emotions as well. It almost felt like a dream, seeing Mr. Hackett standing in the Turners sitting room, as if Anne hadn't spent weeks fretting and agonizing over his whereabouts, wondering if he was dead or alive, lying somewhere on the road, the victim of highwaymen or some other terrible accident.
When she had discovered from Louisa that he had fled from her to avoid debtor's prison, Anne had imagined him hiding in the dingy streets of London, clothed in a similar state to Louisa—worn and dirty. But so far from that, his appearance at the Turners had been precise and at the height of fashion. If he had been sacrificing any of the comforts of life, there was no indication of it.
Since learning of his deceit, Anne had wondered what she would say to him, what she would feel if she ever encountered him. Would she miss him? Would she long to return to that time before her life had fallen apart?
But she hadn't felt any of that upon seeing him. Shock. Disbelief. Agitation. Those emotions she had felt in abundance. But longing or love? There had been none of that.
But perhaps it was only because it had all been so swift and unexpected? And yet, even now, her heart longed for reconciliation with Tobias, not with Nicholas Hackett.
Her final feelings on dropping off to sleep were unease on Louisa's behalf. What would it do to her to have her husband thrown out after being reunited with him for just a day? How could Anne possibly explain her history with him—and why she had never explained it before now?
* * *
Tobias did not return until well into the afternoon the following day, and Anne was only aware of it due to an offhand comment made by Spears.
She met Tobias in the corridor not long after. He was dressed for travel, followed by a footman holding a portmanteau.
"Oh," Anne said, stopping as she came upon them, "are you leaving?"
Tobias nodded, and while his expression wasn't angry, there was definite reserve in his manner. "I must take a trip to London."
Anne swallowed the lump in her throat, determined not to show him how much it hurt her to see him leaving, knowing that it was brought about by their interaction the day before.
"I shall just go put this in the carriage, sir," said the footman, bowing and then passing them by.
"How long shall you be away?" Anne said, trying for a nonchalance she was far from feeling.
"I cannot say for certain," Tobias said, causing a weight to descend into the pit of her stomach. "It shall likely be a week."
Anne nodded, noting how he avoided her eyes, preferring to adjust his cravat. She couldn't tell him all that she was feeling, couldn't beg him to stay with her—or to invite her to accompany him, even. It was not what they had agreed upon.
Who was she to ask him to change his plans or include her in them? She had promised herself that she wouldn't be a weight on Tobias as a wife—that she would be independent.
But she wanted him at least to know that she regretted being the cause of the wedge between them. Her heart pounded in her chest and in her head as she debated taking his hand in hers and kissing him on the cheek.
But the moment passed.
"I shall write to you if it becomes necessary to extend my stay in town." He looked at her with something between a smile and a grimace and stepped around her, walking the length of the corridor with a steady, purposeful stride as she listened to his retreating footsteps behind.
15
The journey to London was not a pleasant one for Tobias. The carriage hadn't gone farther than a mile before he was hitting himself for how he had handled the goodbye with Anne. He could have sworn there was a hurt look in her eyes when she had discovered his plan to leave immediately for town.
He had expected her to ask whether he had made a trip into the village to inform Mr. Hackett that he was not welcome there, but she had said nothing. Tobias had certainly wanted to send the man on his way—preferably accompanied by another facer. But the more Tobias had considered it, the more clear it had become that to do so would be to make himself the enemy in his wife's eyes.
She didn't wish for Mr. Hackett to be sent away, and despite her insisting that this was on Louisa's behalf rather than out of any consideration for Mr. Hackett, Tobias couldn't help but wonder whether there wasn't a selfish aspect to her wishes.
From what Tobias had understood, the marriage between Anne and Hackett had been a love match. It had never bothered him before—and with good reason. He hadn't married Anne with any thought at all of what her feelings were. In fact, he had married her with the nearly explicit understanding that romantic attachment had no place in their marriage. It was no business of his whether her heart
was still wrapped up in Mr. Hackett.
And yet he had found himself almost consumed with an emotion nearly foreign to him—one he feared could only be jealousy. It had been hiding there, under his anger, under his fear and frustration.
How Anne could trust a man who had abandoned her and stolen her money...
He rubbed his forehead harshly. Such foolishness must either be the result of love or else a purity of heart Tobias couldn't even fathom.
He looked through the window of the London hotel he was putting up in, watching the dust being kicked up by a skittish horse, pawing at the ground in the street below. It had seemed silly to put the servants at the Cosgrove townhouse to the trouble of making it habitable for a few short days. It had been shrouded in holland covers for months.
He had convinced himself that the purpose of his journey to London was three-fold: first, spending time away from Anne would put a stop to the ridiculous and fast-developing attachment he was forming to her; second, to protect her from Mr. Hackett's machinations—for he simply couldn't believe that Anne and Louisa were the only victims of the man's twisted sense of justice and selfishness; and third, he wanted to find the woman whose son had died—the one Mr. Hackett claimed had been abandoned by Anne’s father. The news had very clearly and understandably affected her deeply. And if she was intent on helping Louisa, certainly she would wish to do something for Mrs. Childress.
If truth be told, though, as he arrived at 4 Bow Street, he felt less than confident that an investigation into Mr. Hackett would lead to any information that might validate Tobias’s suspicions. Was he grasping at straws in order to justify the intense dislike he felt for the man?
But the Runner he spoke with was already familiar with the two aliases Tobias gave him.
"Aye," said the man through a smile of stained and missing teeth. "A flash cove like yerself sent Evans out to nab 'im not six months since." He shook his head. "Never did nab 'im. A fly cove is Mr. Hackett. "
