First Season / Bride to Be (16 page)

He smiled. “I suppose you may. But…”

“Oh, I will be discreet. I will call on her tomorrow morning. My dear Mr. Hanford, or Christopher, as I shall call you now, how pleased I am!” She held out her hands and gave his a firm squeeze. “You will both be very happy.”

“I believe we will,” he answered, returning her glowing look.

Georgina came back, followed closely by Anabel and the children. The latter threw themselves upon Christopher at once, effectively ending conversation, and it was not until they were going into the dining room that he was able to speak privately to Anabel. “How are you?”

“Splendid.” They smiled into each other's eyes.

“You haven't told the children?”

“Not yet. I thought we would do that together.”

He nodded, pleased. “Tonight?”

“I think tomorrow afternoon would be better. By then everything will be…” She gestured.

“Yes. I will call then. I hope they will be pleased.”

“Can you doubt it?” They watched the children climbing into their seats at the table. “They will be delighted. Almost as happy as when I told them we are going home soon.”

“It will be good to be back.”

“Very!” They smiled at each other again. Anabel started to move away toward her chair.

“Oh, Anabel?”

“Yes.”

“I'm afraid I wasn't able to resist telling your mother the news when she asked.”

“Mama? Why didn't she ask me? I wonder.”

His eyes danced. “I believe she was afraid to.”

“Afraid?” Anabel giggled.

“I told Miss Goring also. She, ah…”

“I know. You have been very kind to her. There were moments when I found it quite annoying.”

“If I had only known!”

Anabel laughed again. She felt like laughing all the time now.

“I'm hungry!” declared Susan from the other side of the room. Anabel and Christopher exchanged a last amused glance and went to their places.

It was a lively, hilarious meal. The children were in high spirits, anticipating what they would do when they were home again and wondering about all their friends there, human and animal. They pelted Christopher with questions he could not answer, as he, too, had been away for some time, and formed all sorts of plans for the future. They addressed an equal number of remarks to Anabel, their strategy of silence abandoned. Even Georgina and Lady Goring were urged to come down and be introduced to Susan's remarkable pony and William's amazingly intelligent spaniel. “Daisy is very happy too,” said Susan. “She can't wait to see the country. I have told her all about it.”

“That is one of the blessings of this affair,” replied Lady Goring with mock asperity. “That
malevolent
animal will be out of my house. Perhaps I may keep my cook after all.”

While Susan puzzled over the meaning of “malevolent” and prepared to defend her pet, Nick said, “We should leave him here. He will kill all the birds within two miles.”

“Nick!” Susan glared at him. “Daisy will do no such thing. She loves birds!”

“To eat,” her brother mumbled into his plate, but he did not take up the argument.

“Rex will keep the cat away from the coveys,” said William.

“Mama! You will not let William's dog hurt Daisy, will you?” appealed Susan.

“It would probably be the other way about,” murmured Nick.

“No one will hurt your cat, Susan,” replied Anabel. “But you must try to train, er, her better. Daisy is a little wild.”

“
I
think she's perfect,” declared the youngest Wyndham.

Her brothers glared at her as if to say this was only natural, considering her own temperament. All the adults laughed.

“Do you see what you are taking on?” dared Lady Goring.

Christopher met her eyes, his own twinkling. “With great joy.” He and Anabel exchanged a fond look. Georgina's smile trembled a little.

“What do you mean?” asked Nicholas, his eyes moving intelligently from one to the other.

“Nothing, dear.” Anabel suppressed her smile. It was not the time to make their announcement. “Here is a Chantilly cream, your favorite.”

Nick was diverted but not fooled. During the rest of the meal he often glanced from his mother to Christopher and back again.

When they finished, the party gathered in the drawing room for a very successful, and noisy, game of lottery tickets. Georgina soon forgot her sadness in the excitement of it, and she looked much younger than her eighteen years as she dickered with the children for counters. Even Lady Goring, who had joined in only after much persuasion, enjoyed herself hugely. And Susan, who came out the winner, could hardly be torn from the table to go to bed. Indeed, she resisted mightily, and would have gone on playing all night if allowed.

At last, however, the children followed Nurse upstairs, leaving the older members of the party in the drawing room. Lady Goring sighed and stretched her arms. “What a pleasant evening. Who would have thought we should enjoy a silly game so much?”

Georgina agreed. “I have not played lottery tickets for five years.”

“I feel quite exhausted by it. I believe I shall go straight up to bed. Are you coming, Georgina?” The girl rose and joined her aunt. “Good night, Christopher,” added Lady Goring. “We will see you again tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Splendid.” Amid a chorus of farewells, they went out.

“Are you very tired?” Hanford asked Anabel, going to sit close to her on the sofa.

“A little.”

“You should sleep.” He touched her cheek gently with his fingertips.

“Soon.” She looked into his blue eyes. “I am very happy, Christopher.”

“As am I.”

“I feel so fortunate, being prevented from making such a mistake.”

“Not half so fortunate as I!”

They laughed.

“We should make plans. When will you go home?”

“Soon. But there is no need to decide anything tonight. Tomorrow will be better, when you are rested.”

Anabel nodded and rested her head comfortably on his shoulder. “But I am eager to leave now.”

He kissed the top of her head. They remained so for a while, Hanford feeling a great contentment spread through him. He could not remember being so happy. “I think Nick suspects us,” he said finally. Anabel did not reply and, looking down, he saw that she was fast asleep. He smiled, then eased his arm from behind her and went to ring for the maid to take her upstairs.

Anabel woke the following morning with a sense of oppression, and she lay in bed for a while wondering why. Everything was wonderful. She and Christopher and the children were going to be tremendously happy. She glowed at the mere thought of it. Then she remembered Sir Charles. Today she must face him and break off their engagement; that was what weighed on her. He would be very angry, she knew, and she had always shrunk from acrimonious scenes, preferring to agree rather than to argue. She had seen how he resented any interference with his wishes, and although she didn't have any great faith in his love for her, she knew that he was determined on the marriage. Perhaps, she thought, he did love her in a way. But his sort of love was wholly selfish, a matter of his own desires and visions alone. Somehow she conformed to his image of a wife, and he was set on placing her in that position. He would not give up his plan without a battle. How different from Christopher!

For a while she drifted in a pleasant reverie, recounting Christopher's sterling qualities. She was brought abruptly back to earth by the entrance of her maid with tea, the drawing of the curtains, and the other familiar rituals of rising. What would she say to Norbury? she wondered as her hair was brushed. How would it be best to begin?

This question threw her into the dismals again. Anabel was still far from accustomed to upholding her own decisions. The knowledge that she loved Christopher and had made a mistake with Norbury had been almost instinctive. It was quite another matter to plan rationally how best to convey that news and bear down opposition. She did not question her choice—far from it—but she was uneasy about her ability to explain it. Her first marriage had been so much simpler. Her father had presented a fait accompli, and she had merely acquiesced. There had been no necessity for explanations. And Norbury had been much the same. He had impressed his will on her and expected her to yield, as she had. This time all was different.
She
had decided, and it was up to her to take the actions that would bring her own happiness.

Briefly Anabel wished for Christopher. If only he could be with her today, to confront Sir Charles at her side. But that was impossible, she knew. It would make everything ten times worse. In any case, this was her tangle. She had been foolish, and she must right her mistake. Anabel sensed that it was very important for her to see this matter through alone. This season in London had been good for her, she realized. It had shown her a great many things about herself, and she must use this new knowledge rather than retreat into outworn habits. She and Christopher would help each other. She would not rely on him for every decision.

This train of thought was fascinating, if not very comforting, and Anabel remained distracted throughout breakfast, not even hearing the remarks Lady Goring and Georgina addressed to her. After a while they exchanged a glance and abandoned the attempt at conversation, talking quietly to each other. Anabel ate little and soon went up to the drawing room to wait and think. She still had not determined how she would speak to Norbury. Should she simply plunge in as soon as he arrived, or should she wait for an opening? He would bring up their wedding date again; perhaps she could begin there.

Pacing back and forth across the drawing-room carpet, Anabel twisted her hands nervously. It was all very well to vow to change. In actuality it was very difficult.

The sound of the bell made her jump. She heard a footman going to the door and voices below. It was Sir Charles. Her heart speeded up, and she took a deep breath, going to the sofa and sitting down, trying to appear calm and collected.

“Good morning,” said Norbury from the drawing-room doorway. “Are you more rested today? It is so pleasant, I thought we might go for a drive.” He came toward her, smiling, and took her hand. “It will do you good to get out.”

“Oh…I…” Anabel felt confused. All her faculties had been concentrated on the coming confrontation. She didn't want to go out; she wanted to get it over as soon as possible. But she couldn't seem to think of objections.

“Come,” said Norbury. “It is really a lovely morning. You will enjoy being out.” He continued to smile pleasantly. He knew that he had not come off well in the events of the last few days. He had allowed his temper to get the best of him again, and Anabel had been annoyed. He was anxious to erase this damaging memory and remind her of his manifold attractions. It would be a simple matter, he felt, to drive the uninteresting Mr. Hanford out of her mind.

“I would prefer to stay here,” managed Anabel.

“Nonsense. This is only because you have not been out and seen the day. I insist. Go and fetch your hat.”

“But—”

Slightly annoyed but feigning laughter, he took her shoulders and marched her toward the door. “I won't hear it. You will thank me in the end, wait and see.”

Defeated, Anabel went upstairs and got out a bonnet and shawl. She could not summon the energy to fight Norbury on this; she was saving it for the larger issue.

It was indeed a lovely day, the air soft and fragrant and the sky a brilliant blue. Norbury had his phaeton, and as he helped Anabel into it he told the groom holding the horses that he might wait here for their return. This, at least, was a relief, Anabel thought. It would have been impossible to talk with a servant hanging on behind.

They started off briskly through the busy streets. “A turn around the park?” asked Sir Charles, and she nodded, her thoughts still on what lay ahead. They said little during the short journey to the gates. Norbury was occupied with driving, and Anabel was abstracted. But when they turned into the quieter avenues of the park, he said, “I hope the children are completely recovered from their adventures?”

“What? Oh, yes, they are well.”

“I realized that I never actually heard where they had got to.” He was determined to counteract her previous impressions.

“Uh, the boys went after Susan.” Anabel couldn't concentrate on this when she was continually wondering how to bring up their engagement.

“Went after?”

Seeing that he was not going to leave the subject, she quickly explained what had happened. Her references to Christopher were inevitably warm.

Norbury carefully ignored them. “I see. Well, I am very glad it is all straightened out again. I know you were terribly worried.”

She nodded.

“It is time I saw the children again,” he added. “Perhaps we might take them out tomorrow?” He put all the eagerness he could muster in his voice. Though this was the last thing he wanted to do, he felt it was necessary to restore his position.

“No.”

He glanced at her, surprised.

“They are being punished for going out without leave,” she continued cravenly, intimidated by his look. “They are not to have outings.”

“Ah.” He was relieved. “I suppose that is wise.”

Anabel was berating herself for avoiding the true reason behind her refusal. She had to get it over with. “I must speak to you about something,” she blurted out.

“Yes?”

“It…it is very difficult. I don't know precisely how to begin, so I shall simply say it. I wish to end our engagement, Charles.”

“What?” He spoke blankly, as if he had not understood her words.

“I am very sorry, but I do not think we shall suit after all. It is my fault. I made a mistake. And I sincerely apologize for any pain I may have—”

“Are you joking?” He still seemed chiefly astonished.

“N-no. I—”

“I suppose Hanford is behind this. He put you up to it, and because you are grateful for his rescue of your children, you agreed. You do not really mean it.”

“That is not true!” Anabel was flustered. This was not how she had expected things to go. She had not thought Christopher would come into it, and she could not precisely deny that he was behind it, though not as Sir Charles claimed.

“Have you thought that he may have arranged the whole crisis merely to win your sympathy?” asked Norbury.

“What?”

“You say your daughter went to him. How do you know that? Perhaps he took her from the house, knowing that your sons would follow. Or perhaps he simply took the three of them, taught them what to say, and brought them back at the proper moment to earn your gratitude.” He warmed to this idea. “Yes. He would wait just long enough so that you would fall into his arms when he returned them.”

“That's ridiculous!”

“You didn't fall into his arms?” inquired Sir Charles sarcastically and, seeing Anabel's expression, added, “Naturally you did. I'm sure he counted on that.”

“He did no such thing!”

“Indeed? You are not breaking off our engagement to marry Hanford, then?”

She hesitated. Would it be better to tell him or not?

But he saw the answer in her face, and was at once filled with a murderous rage. “I see. His little plot has succeeded. Or so he believes.”

“There was no plot. Christopher would never do what you suggest. He is not that sort of person.”

“Is he not?” Norbury sneered.

“No! I have known him for years.”

“Yet only now have you decided to marry him. Odd.”

For a brief moment Anabel was shaken by doubt. Was it possible that he was right? Christopher had said that he was desperate over her engagement. Could he have planned to end it this way? But the thought was no sooner considered than rejected. He would do no such thing; she knew it. “It is of no consequence what you think. You are wrong. And this has nothing to do with my decision. I am breaking it off.”

“This is not the time to discuss it. Wait a few days, until your anxiety over your children has faded. You will see then that you are being hasty.” It was his last attempt at appeal.

“No, I will not. I am quite certain.”

Sir Charles's rage flooded him. How dared she speak to him so? he thought. He had done her the unique honor of offering his hand, and now she was throwing it aside as if it meant nothing—and for a nonentity like Hanford!
His
plans and wishes were to be swept aside so that these two could have their way. He was to be balked of the woman he had chosen and the life he had envisioned. It was intolerable! Did she not realize that he might have had any woman in London? Yet he had chosen her, despite her widowhood and her pack of whining brats. He
would
have what he wanted. “I refuse,” he said.

“What?” Anabel didn't know what he meant.

“I refuse to allow you to dissolve the engagement. I won't agree to it.”

“What do you mean? You must.”

“Why?”

“Well…that is…”

“If
I
were the one who wished to break my promise, society would protest,” he countered. “It would not be ‘the act of a gentleman' to draw back. Yet you may do as you please in the matter. Well, I will not go along. We
shall
be married.”

“You would marry me even though I do not wish it?” Anabel was astounded and confused. She had never imagined such a response to her announcement.

“You will come round eventually.” His tone was smug, and he spoke as if the matter were settled.

“You're mad. I certainly will not. And you cannot force me to marry you. I shall send a notice to the
Morning Post
today saying that our engagement is at an end. And now I want to go home. Turn around!”

She expected another angry outburst, but Norbury merely frowned thoughtfully. Thinking he was reconsidering his ridiculous ultimatum, she added, “We should be very unhappy, Charles. You would regret it as much as I. When you have thought over the matter, you will see that.”

He said nothing. He was gazing out over the horses' heads as if weighing some idea.

“We are not at all suited,” continued Anabel hopefully. “I find I do not care to live in town, and you are not overfond of children, I think. Your mother was not pleased with the match.”

“Nonsense!” he snapped.

Anabel abandoned this line. “You deserve someone who can take a place in society to match your own. I could not.” He was ignoring her again. Anabel gazed at his set profile and wished fervently that she had not come out with him. At home she could ask him to leave; here she was trapped. “Truly, Charles, you will be glad in a very few days.”

With a sudden jerk on the reins, he turned the phaeton left, then left again into another avenue, heading back the way they had come. Anabel breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little in her seat.

They drove in silence for a while. Anabel was happy to have things over and wary of upsetting the balance established, and Norbury was too angry to speak. He had never in his life been put aside by a woman he deigned to distinguish, and to have this occur when he had actually proposed marriage was more than he could bear.

Outside the park, he turned into a busy street and wove in and out among wagons, carts, and pedestrians. Anabel sat slumped beside him, ignoring the spectacle, waiting to be home again. She was thinking how fortunate it was that she and Christopher did not want to live in London. She could not have faced Norbury day after day and maintained a pretense of polite indifference. When would they reach her mother's? she wondered. Looking around, she was startled. “Where are you going?”

Norbury did not reply.

“This is not the way back. We should have turned long since. What are you doing?”

He ignored her, guiding the phaeton past a wide lumber cart.

“Charles!” Anabel gazed about, trying to identify the street.

“This is another way home,” said Norbury.

“I don't believe you! Turn around at once.”

In answer, he urged the horses forward at a faster pace.

“If you don't turn around, I shall jump off.”

He laughed a little. “No, you won't. You would be seriously injured on the cobbles, if not killed.”