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Chapter 9
“Annie! Annie? You have a gentleman caller.”
“I do?” Annie dropped her embroidery, startled by the mere idea. Her mother was kneeling on the window seat, looking out of the window with anticipation and a hand that kept fluttering in front of her face as if it were a fan.
An image appeared in Annie’s head of Lord Yeatman. She set her embroidery back in its basket and hastily went to straighten her gown, checking for any creases.
“Pick up your embroidery again, dear,” Barbara said, stepping back into the middle of the room with a wave of her hand. “Gentlemen like an accomplished lady.”
Annie wrinkled her nose a little as she looked down at the embroidery. Her mother had always instilled in her what made an ‘accomplished’ lady. It meant that Annie had spent hours practising things such as embroidery, the pianoforte, and her languages, but in truth, she could have done without the embroidery. She took no enjoyment from it, and she rather thought Lord Yeatman would be no more impressed by it than she was. She snatched it up quickly at her mother’s command.
When the door opened with the butler stepping in first to announce their caller, Annie moved to her feet, still holding onto the embroidery as her mother had instructed, but when their caller revealed himself, Annie’s jaw went slack in surprise.
“Mr Knight,” Barbara said with warmth. “How good it is to see you. Do come in.” She beckoned him into the room as Annie hastened to curtsy and cover up her surprise.
Why on earth did I hope it was Lord Yeatman?
It was a feeling that had come naturally to her, and that shocked her. As Mr Knight was urged to take a chair with the two of them, Annie tried to analyse why she had hoped it was Lord Yeatman at her door. It did not take her long to understand what it could be.
I miss his conversation. It is more amusing and entertaining than any other’s.
“How are you, Mr Knight?” Annie said, clearing her throat in the hope of clearing her mind of any thoughts of Lord Yeatman with it.
“I am well.” Once again, Mr Knight’s answers were short and polite, but they hardly encouraged conversation. Annie looked to her mother, clearly asking for help. Barbara understood, for she took it upon herself to inch forward in her seat and attempt another conversation.
“It is such a pleasure to have you here today. To what do we owe the visit?” she asked.
“I wish to see Miss Storey, I must confess,” Mr Knight said with a rather kind smile. Annie lowered her sampler to her lap in amazement.
He barely knows me. He does not talk to me. Why would he wish to see me?
“Oh, is that not kind, Annie?” Barbara said with a rather joyous tone. “We were thinking of attending the promenade on the hour. Perhaps you would join us?”
Please say no!
Yet Annie’s prayer was not to be answered.
“I’d like that very much.”
As the hour came around, they prepared for the promenade. Annie put on her spencer jacket and bonnet, and Mr Knight offered to escort her on his arm as he placed his top hat on his head. She took it politely, with Barbara hurrying on behind the two of them.
They did not live far from Hyde Park, so they could walk there without having to take a carriage. As they walked, Annie grew determined to speak to Mr Knight. So far, he seemed a nice man, and his preference for her was certainly something that was flattering. She felt ashamed to have been thinking of Lord Yeatman that morning, when she should have been thinking of someone respectable and proper, such as Mr Knight.
“I would like to know you better, sir,” she said with a smile as they crossed into the park. “Tell me something of yourself I do not know.” He smiled too, and for the first time, she felt it was a genuine smile he was offering her, as if she had startled him.
“What an intriguing opener to a conversation. It is refreshing.”
“It is?”
“You have given me the opportunity to talk of what I like. A rare thing,” he whispered to her. “In my experience, others like to lead the conversation.”
“I would be glad to talk of anything you wish to, Mr Knight,” she encouraged him on.
He smiled again as they began their walk through their park. Annie looked around them, seeing the sunshine had brought many out that day. The blue sky was bright, and the light seemed to bounce off the pale and pastel-coloured gowns the ladies were wearing.
The river that passed through the centre of the park glistened in that same light, hidden in places by the people that flanked the riverbanks, eager to see the ducks and the ducklings that swam along the river’s edge.
“I am an avid reader, Miss Storey,” Mr Knight said. “I do not mean to say the statement as many would. In my experience, most people I have met read, but I am someone who you will find has a book in their hand almost every hour of the day.”
