Annis blushed.
Much later, climbing into bed that night, Annis reviewed the day and reflected that it was possibly the best birthday she had ever had. For which, in no small part, she had to reluctantly admit, the viscount and his enchanting offspring were responsible. Though reminders of the past made Annis suddenly shiver, and she drew the covers up. The less she thought about those days the better.
Recalling the viscount’s compliment as she lay in her bed, she flushed all over again and got a warm feeling in her breast. Yes, it had been a wonderful day, and the viscount had made it very memorable. She nestled into the pillows and sighed.He really is a lovely gentleman.
Chapter Eight
17th November 1792
I have a son! Lawrence Benedict. He is a fine, healthy babe, and Damaris has fared well through her labor; I cannot complain that my wife has not done her duty. My heart leaves my chest at the sight of him in his mother’s arms, yet I am plagued with strange dreams these last few nights. Dreams that linger in the daylight. Dreams that disturb me.
I cannot shake the conviction that I have been through this experience before. Which is insane, yet the feelings persist. When I hold Lawrence in my arms, I am assailed by the sensation of familiarity.
There is another child. I’m sure of it. Yet how? How could I forget such a thing? It is lifechanging to hold one’s child in one’s arms. I cannot credit that I could lose the memory of such a thing.
Did the child die? Is that why I can’t remember? The notion of losing Lawrence tears my heart out. I could not bear it.
19th November 1792
I pace the nursery with him when he cries. The nurse is shocked, but I will not leave him in distress. Only whenhe is quiet do I leave and sit in the library with a glass of whisky and try to recall.
My memories are coming back in fragments. There is a woman. There must be, of course, if there is a child.
When I first recalled her face, my skin became gooseflesh, and such joy filled my heart that I was reduced to tears. For I know that I love her, that she makes me happy. And such a longing to see her and our child consumes me that I sob uncontrollably even now at the thought.
I shall only call her J, here in this diary, for I must protect her identity. At least until I can find her. For I have left her alone to fend for herself all these months, and she knows not what happened to me.
My mind is a sieve, full of holes. I can see the house we lived in, yet know not the name of the place. From what I can recall, it must be a small village, certainly not the metropolis or even a large town. Somewhere small and bucolic. But that leaves thousands of villages anywhere in England.
I shall begin my search tomorrow.
24 November 1792
I have searched and searched, but I am no nearer to finding my J. I do have more memories, however. The child is a little girl. A sweet, beautiful babe, my little A. I ache to hold her in my arms again. I take some solace from Lawrence, but it is not enough. I have two girls who need me as much as he does, possibly more, and I am beside myself with worry for them. What could have happened to them in my absence?
I know now that I left my ring with her, the one father gave me when I reached my majority. I always meantto have it engraved and never got around to it. Father assumed someone robbed me of it when they found me without it in the accident. But J. has it. I am sure she will have kept it. How much I miss her!
Damaris thinks I have run mad, for I am barely home for more than a few hours’ sleep before I am off again to search. She has no idea why I am doing this, what I am searching for. I must tell her the truth eventually, I suppose. But not until I have found my J. and A.
Chapter Nine
The day ofthe picnic dawned bright, clear, and sunny, bidding fair to be a hot day. The plan was to assemble out the front of the house at eleven o’clock. All the adults were coming to this event and Annis had spent some time with the housekeeper and the cook (with the duchess’s permission) organizing the lunch hampers, blankets, and sunshades required for the comfort of the company.
The servants were sent in advance to set up the picnic site for their comfort, and the children were beside themselves with excitement, having been promised the opportunity to paddle in the lake, given the heat. Annis was vastly pleased with herself when they arrived at the site to see the blankets, tables, and chairs set out under the trees by the shore of the lake and the servants ready to serve wine for the adults and lemonade for the children.
The lake was an irregularly shaped, circular body of water, greenish in color, with rushes at the edges, and a particularly large-trunked tree with branches stretching over the water, standing like a guardian on the left side of the lake. There was a slight breeze across the lake to temper the heat, and the sun shone brilliantly on the surface of the water. Insects buzzed and the serenity of it was breathtaking. Until of course the shrieks of happy children shattered it.
The children splashed and played in the water, getting themselves thoroughly wet and muddy, but none of them ventured far from the edge on pain of the viscount’s wrath. The adults lay about on the blankets or occupied chairs, eating cold chicken, fresh bread, cheese, and cake. The ladies held parasols to protect their complexions and wafted fans to keep themselves cool. The duke and viscount eschewed jackets and neckcloths and removed their boots.
A post luncheon somnolence came over the party in the dozy heat, and it was only a shriek followed by a splash that roused Annis to the knowledge of danger.
Sitting up, she saw to her horror little Ewen struggling in the water below the branches of the large tree.
Rising and kicking off her slippers, she ran straight at the lake and plunged into the chilly water. Catching her breath at the sudden change in temperature, she launched herself toward the child, thankful that she had learned to swim. Behind her, she heard the calls of distress from the ladies of the party and a bellow from the viscount, followed by a splashing behind her.
She didn’t turn to look, all her concentration on young Ewen, whose head had just disappeared below the water. She struck out harder and reached the point at which he had vanished. Taking a breath, she dived and groped about, unable to see anything in the murky water. Her hands grasped an arm, and she tugged, kicking her feet to push herself to the surface. She broke the surface and, treading water, kept young Ewen’s head above the waterline. In the next instant she was engulfed by the solid, hard heat of the viscount’s body as he reached them and hauled them both toward him.
“He went under,” she panted. “Go! Get him to the bank—I can manage.”
