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“I beg your pardon, Miss?”
Anne looked up in some consternation as a footman addressed her, only to realize that quite by accident, she had spoken aloud. It was no wonder the man seemed confused as he stood next to her, a silver tray held in his gloved hands.
“Oh…Nothing, I’m sure. I beg your pardon.” Cheeks burning, Anne lifted a glass of wine carefully from the offered tray and raised it to her lips, thankful for the refreshment. The footman moved on, serving other guests.
Anne looked for her sister, Eliza and found her across the room, flushed and dancing. That is what she should be doing, Anne thought. But no one had asked her. Sweet heavens? Was she becoming a wallflower? Surely not. She should find Emily, not stand in the corner alone.
Anne sighed softly as she watched her dearest friend move though the room. The new Duchess of Bramblewood was in her element. Emily always had the right smile or soft word for each person she met. She seemed to have an instinctive feel for the ranks of every individual in the room, always showing just the right amount of courtesy to leave the other person well-satisfied as she moved on to the next acquaintance. A ball of this sort always had several important personages upon the guest list. Most were far more concerned with meeting a duchess than a country viscount’s daughter, like Anne.
She had never before minded her country roots, but Emily’s marriage had catapulted her friend into an entirely new circle from which Anne felt exempt. She wished vainly for another female friend, someone fun. Even Henrietta would be welcome, but the lady had returned to Scotland with her new husband, Mr. Eldridge.
It seemed everyone was now married and far too busy to bother with their old friend. Everything had changed. Emily had Alexander, and although their foursome had always included Emily’s brother, Edmund, he had barely shown himself in the past weeks. Even if he had done, Anne could not dance more than two dances with him at a single event, not without causing talk. It just was not done.
Flustered, she turned her attention back to the wine glass in her hand. Another sip gave her something to do. Emily would return soon. Maybe. She seemed much taken with her husband. Anne caught sight of her beside Alexander and considered the couple from afar, wondering what it must be like to have a husband. Someone with whom one could confide, to lean on when things became difficult. To smile with the way Emily was smiling now.
You must cease in these silly daydreams and focus on the matter at hand, Anne told herself. Do not moon over someone else’s relationship, but rather spend more time building your own.
The voice in her head sounded an awful lot like Emily’s mother. Perhaps, that was because Lady Kentleworth, as the Albright girls’ chaperone, had expressed a similar sentiment earlier this evening. Anne let her gaze move over the room, noting the gentlemen she already knew or at least had heard of, considering each for a possible match. To her surprise, she could name quite a few. If there was one thing Anne was skilled at, it was putting a name to a face. A useful skill, perhaps, especially when coupled with the ability to remember the small details, such as who was already married, to whom, and whether or not the man in question had a fortune or a scandal attached to his name.
Anne found herself relaxing as she considered each man as if playing a game with herself. The gentlemen were less intimidating when laid out in such base terms. Was she mercenary? No. She decided she was merely being careful. Too many of the men within the room were simply not appropriate for her needs. She wished she could speak with Emily or even her sister, Eliza, to ask their opinions, but Eliza was still dancing, and a crowd of countless guests who looked through Anne as though she were not even there surrounded Emily. To the London set, Anne might as well have been invisible; the duchess’ country companion.
Anne straightened her shoulders. She was a viscount’s daughter and a lady of quality. She was no country cousin.
As if to reassure herself of that fact, Anne turned to look at herself in the gilded mirror hanging on the wall just behind her. It reflected the candles marvelously, doubling the light in the room.
For a moment Anne was caught up in the vision of herself, wearing her best blue dress. It was the exact shade to match her eyes and trimmed in the most exquisite lace she had ever owned. Her blonde hair was caught up in a series of ribbons which matched her dress, and seed pearls were nestled in her curls. Her cheeks were pink and healthy, setting off a perfect pale complexion.
That she knew would change as the weather warmed. It had been a most rainy season and the summer sunshine was still absent. When it appeared, Anne would be hard pressed to avoid it.
Anne loved being out of doors, riding and even gardening with her sister and mother, although Eliza cringed when Anne touched any but the hardiest of plants. Still, right now, she had no sun-induced freckles on her nose, and no darkening of her skin. She looked like a porcelain doll with her perfectly pale skin and blonde hair. Well, that wasn’t true, she thought. She was certainly no breakable doll. She laughed at the deceptive image. Her blue eyes reflected the dozens of candles used throughout the room to light the ball, and glittered like captive stars. She was most certainly not invisible, at least not physically so. Some would even consider her beautiful. Still, she had no solid prospects, save one, and he was once again, absent.
Anne sighed and her mind wandered back to when she and Edmund were children. They had been laughing and talking all day, the four of them: Alexander, Emily, Edmund and herself. It was just before they all went away to school. She remembered it was one of the last bright days of summer. The sun was warm upon their faces. Emily had raced off with Alexander; leaving Edmund and Anne alone together at the bridge where the stream entered the Brackenbrush Lake.
They were almost of an age when a young lady and a young gentleman should not be left alone together, and yet they were children still, awkward and uncertain with one another. She and Edmund had stood there together basking in the golden hues of the setting summer sun, expecting to be called back to the house at any moment. The sky was just beginning to darken in hues of purple, peach and magenta. The day was ending, and tomorrow Anne would leave Northwick.
“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Anne admitted. Emily was wildly excited about going to finishing school, but Anne was apprehensive. She hoped that Emily would not find new friends and abandon her. “Edmund, what if we never see each other again?” she worried.
Ed had taken her hand in his. She had not worn gloves then, as she was still considered a child. She only wore them for special occasions; otherwise she would have surely ripped them climbing trees and making mischief. She remembered the warmth of Edmund’s hand in hers as he squeezed it gently. She looked at him then, wondering what he could be on about. He stared at her quite solemnly, more serious than she had ever seen him.
“That will never happen,” he replied, “because, someday, I will marry you.”
Anne was struck speechless.
Edmund continued as if it were a matter of fact. “Then we shall never have to part.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “And I shall kiss you whenever I like.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her cheek to him at the last moment.
“No, you shan’t,” Anne said with a nervous giggle. “The lady decides when she shall allow a kiss.”
“Would you then?” Edmund asked softly, and she turned to look at him wondering. She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. Should she allow it? She had never been kissed before. It seemed right that it should be Edmund. She had nearly agreed when Emily and Alexander returned, breaking the moment. Anne saw them coming, laughing and talking. Emily and Alexander would tease them mercilessly.
“No,” she whispered, lest they be seen. Quickly, she turned her cheek avoiding the kiss, and Edmund only brushed his face against her hair. Then Edmund saw the others too. She and Edmund jumped apart as if they were caught doing something nefarious.
Emily and Alex told them of some adventure, and the moment passed. Shortly thereafter, they had all been called in by Emily and Edmund’s, Aunt Agnes, and ordered to wash for dinner.
Anne had never spoken of the moment again. How many times over the years has she thought of it and wished she had not turned her cheek to Edmund’s impulsive kiss, but they were only children, were they not? It would not have made a difference. What sort of promise could two children make to one another?
Edmund had never spoken of that day either.
