“I am glad, of course I am. It’s only…” Cassie turned away from Lewis’s scrutiny, gazing out over the Green Park reservoir. It was the first time she’d left the house in nearly two weeks. The ducks had eaten all the bread they’d brought, and the swans were not in evidence on this sultry July day. Even Cassie seemed resigned to the coming separation from her swain.
Lewis knew what she meant by it’s only. Her parents seemed to have forgotten their daughter’s disappointment. At first jubilant that Jack resembled a sentient human being once again, they had quickly become distracted by his failure to recover as expected. No sooner did they see a sign of normalcy—a smile, or requesting a shave—than the patient withdrew again into a stupor, or howled and raved as if his brain were on fire. They dared not leave him alone.
And Lewis dared not hare off to see Anna Spain. Not quite yet. Odds were, her parents would greet him politely, thank him for coming, and show him the door. A waste of two days, when he was needed here.
Captain Fuller’s duties kept him occupied most of the week, and Lewis devoted himself to squiring Cassie about whenever he wasn’t with Jack. He escorted her to a gathering of her friends before they all scattered to the four corners of England. He took her walking in one of the parks, or to the library. They performed errands for Lady Wedbury. He took her to see the summer flowers at Kew and the paintings at the new gallery in Dulwich.
One rainy day he wandered into the morning room and found Cassie at the writing table, glowering at a blank sheet of parchment.
“Oh, Lewis. Here’s this new letter from Miss Spain I must answer. Would you mend this pen for me? I’m terrible at it.”
That done, Lewis retreated to the far side of the room and unfolded the letter. It was far too brief.
4 July
Dear Miss Wedbury,
Thank you for your letter of 27 June. I am sorry to hear of your brother’s illness. What a shocking misfortune for your household. I trust you are correct in thinking it not contagious; it would be too dreadful if others of your household were to become infected.
Betrothed, though! There are few things more exciting than that. How can you think my days more interesting than yours? I seldom go out, and while my brother and his family reside with us, they have little to do with me. I spend all the time the weather allows on the rooftop, reading and watching the ships in the harbor—while you no doubt spend all of Capt. Fuller’s spare time with him. My sincerest congratulations. There is no one more deserving than you.
Anna Spain
The ink was blotched with what looked like tears. Were they Cassie’s or Anna’s? Could be either one. From Cassie’s sniffles, her reply was sure to be similarly smudged.
“The roof? Why does she sit on the roof?” he asked Cassie. She merely shrugged as her pen scratched across the paper.
He lifted the letter and read it again. “What’s wrong with her family? Does she think she’s too good for them?”
“She is,” Cassie said, without looking up.
“Yes,” Lewis said, “from all we know, which isn’t much.” He rattled the parchment in frustration. “Why in heaven doesn’t she write more?”
“What’s happening?” Cassie asked that evening. The table had been cleared, the port brought for the men, and still Lady Wedbury made no move toward the drawing room. The butler added the ladies’ drinks to the tray and was dismissed. Sir John poured, Lewis distributed the glasses and then reclaimed his seat.
Sir John sampled his port. “Lewis came to me earlier today with a reasonable request to know what our plans are. I had to admit that we had none. It is past time we did, however. We met today with Doctor Hertford. Jack is not well, of course, but Hertford feels sure he can travel safely.”
Lewis sat forward, a smile forming. “Does that mean we’re headed home, sir?”
Sir John shook his head. “Alas, no. Mr. Hertford thinks the Yorkshire winter would be most inadvisable.”
Lewis squeezed his eyes closed and leaned back in his chair. His legs twitched with the urge to pace the room, but it would be rude.
Lady Wedbury drew a long, tremulous breath. When she spoke, her gaiety seemed forced. “We shall go to Bath. Mr. Hertford believes the waters will be beneficial for Jack. There will be fashionable people, and assemblies, and all sorts of activities to distract us.”
Cassie sat up straight with a little clap of her hands. “Yes, that’s a good idea!”
Naturally, Cassie would be happier in Bath than in Yorkshire. It was much closer to London—and Captain Fuller.
Sir John cleared his throat. “Lewis, you are your own man, of course. You are more than welcome to stay with us, or to come and go as it suits you. You might wish to go home for a month or two while we get settled and find our way about.”
Oh, he was tempted! But duty led down another path. Lewis would be devoured by guilt if he left Jack.
He blew out a frustrated breath and turned his hands palms up. “I expect I’ll go to Bath, at least briefly. Perhaps I can help Jack through the move.”
He had another reason unrelated to duty. Bath stood a mere twenty miles from Bristol. He could easily check on Anna Spain.
But he had no intention of waiting two more weeks for the Wedburys’ move, while he grew more nervous and she forgot he ever existed.
Cassie wrote to Anna informing her of Lewis’s impending visit, while he watched over her shoulder to ensure she said nothing he did not approve. The fact that he came, for no reason beyond seeing her, would tell Anna enough; he did not want any careless words from Cassie subjecting her to undue pressure. If this initial visit went well, repeating it would be a simple matter. No reason to rush his courtship. If that’s what it was.
Bristol
Anna pushed her toast aside when Mama swept into her room. It tasted like dust, and judging by the imperious lift of Mama’s chin, nothing she said would improve its flavor.
“I’ve done the best I can for you, Anna. If your father had his way, you’d be thrown out on the pavement. We’re looking for an asylum in some suitably out-of-the-way location where you will stay until this shameful affair is over.”
Anna had not seen her father for three weeks…if he even was her father. Her brother—half-brother?—had been similarly invisible although his wife, Susan, had twice dared to expose herself to Anna’s unclean presence. Why, Anna couldn’t say, unless it was merely to gloat. To make sure Anna knew that unless all evidence of the child she bore were expunged, she would never see her niece and nephew again.
The trouble was, she did see them from her window or the roof, playing their summer games down in the garden, heard their merry laughter. Mama and Father, Susan and Roland—losing them was no loss at all. But the children were another matter. She missed reading to them, writing little rhymes for their entertainment, playing quoits or hide-and-go-seek, envying them their closeness.
Mama squinted into the mirror and made a slight adjustment to her lacy fichu. “And don’t think it will be a place of ease, girl. Perhaps they’ll manage to teach you something useful. As soon as we find the right place, you’ll be on your way.”
Anna winced at the abruptness of it. So eager to be rid of her. The image of a cold, uncaring institution filled her with dismay, but how different was it, really? She’d known there could be no asylum at home.
“I’ll send Putnam up when she’s finished in my rooms. She can help you sort what you’ll need to take.” The door closed with a solid click.
Anna escaped down the hall and up the spiral stairs to the roof. From there, depending on where she stood, she could see almost all of Bristol—the kiln chimneys and manufactories, the cathedral and churches; the floating harbor, just a block away, with its ships and warehouses and bustle; and all the people going about their chores and entertainments.
From the roof, when the smoke cleared on Sundays, she could follow the Avon downstream to the Severn, with the green shores of Wales beyond that. On the roof she could pretend that whatever lay on the other side of limbo might involve something better than unmitigated loneliness.
It was an uncomfortable perch, just an old wooden chair that she covered with a cloth to keep her clothes clean. But on the roof, only birds and warm July breezes interrupted her solitude.
“Miss Anna?”
Anna spun toward the door to the stairway. Putnam came forward with a piece of paper in her hand, pushing into the wind.
“I took the liberty to bring this straight up, miss. I happened to be in the hall when the mail came in.”
Anna stared at her. Yes, Putnam had shown some sympathy for her plight, but to disobey Mama so flagrantly? Unbelievable.
Yet the seal was unbroken. Anna pried it open and Putnam left her alone.
8 July
Brook Street, London
Dear Anna,
Lewis bade me write to tell you that he will be in Bristol on the 10th and will call on you, if he may. I wish—
The letter fell from Anna’s nerveless hands and blew across the roof, coming to rest against the parapet. She ran to retrieve it. God forbid anyone should find it!
He will call if he may… No, he may not! If he showed himself on the doorstep, his future would be snatched from him. Even if he could withstand her parents’ blandishments, he was far too tenderhearted to leave her in such circumstances.
Well, she could be kind too. Kind enough to spare him the consequences of his compassion.
Anna ran down the stairs and threw open her bedroom door. “Oh, Putnam, thank God you’re here. I must send a reply—quickly.”
Paper and pen. The pen needed mending—no time for that.
“And secretly. Will you help me? Will you tell Mama I’m sick, and borrow one of the maids’ cloaks for me to wear?” Anna begged as she wrote a few untidy lines. “I’m sorry to ask it of you, but I—”
“Aye, I’ll help. I’ll take it myself.” Putnam’s voice sounded rough. “Pull out some clothes. Make it look like we’ve been busy.”
Without even reading it through, Anna folded the letter and addressed it. It hardly resembled her handwriting. She dug in a drawer for her purse. She’d not needed it since leaving London.
“Thank you, thank you,” Anna said, breathless, crossing the room to press a coin into Putnam’s palm.
“Please hurry. A few minutes could make all the difference.”
Lewis carried his bag downstairs and set it by the front door. As he entered the breakfast room, Georgie was distributing the morning’s mail.
Cassie opened a scrawled note, read it with a frown, and handed it across the table.
9 July
Miss Wedbury,
Please, please tell Mr. Aubrey, he must not come. I am leaving Bristol myself shortly for an extended stay with relatives and he visitors would be extremely unwel inconvenient. I apologize for the mess I have made of this letter—similarly for our friendship.
Anna Spain
Lewis took the eight seconds required to read it twice through and shoved it back to Cassie. Leaving his breakfast uneaten, he strode out of the room and straight through the front door on his way to God-knew-where. Certainly not Bristol.
Anna had made her feelings very clear indeed. Yes, she’d crossed through the two most withering words. But if she hadn’t meant them, courtesy demanded she should rewrite the whole. It would have taken two minutes to do so.
He walked blindly, trying not to think, not to remember, not to feel. If he got tired enough or drunk enough, perhaps he’d succeed in forgetting her face. Then, surely, he would be capable of drawing something else.