Lewis came the next morning while she was nursing Doris. Putnam would have made him wait, but Anna had to be sure he’d suffered no injury.
He grinned at the sight of her covered from chin to toe and gave her a long, wonderful kiss. Cupping his cheek in her free hand to keep him close, she inspected him for damage. There was none.
“You had no trouble with Gideon?” she asked.
“No trouble at all, my dear. I was cautious when I got home, as I promised you. Checked for all his old tricks. Then I went along to his room and he was gone. Packed in a hurry so he wasn’t very thorough, but he’s gone.”
When Putnam had her back turned, he folded down the corner of the blanket to see the baby. Doris latched on harder and rolled her eyes at him in annoyance at the interruption. He laughed, soft and sweet. “All right, little one, I’ll leave you to your important business.”
With sudden, urgent anxiety Anna said, “She won’t change, will she? It would be dismaying if she looked like Gideon.”
“No, she’s like you. Like an angel.”
Like an angel. That was his drawing, the one on top. She thought of all the others and her stomach churned. I’ll have to tell him I peeked.
When he left a little later, he carried her note of congratulation to Cassie. An hour later, Cassie herself arrived, glowing in one her prettiest walking dresses. The modiste was there too for the final fitting of Anna’s wedding gown.
“I can only stay a minute, Neil’s downstairs waiting for me, but… Oh, Anna, is that your gown for the wedding? It is perfect! What a ravishing shade of blue! Or is it green? It’s lovely with your hair. All those little pintucks, and the velvet trimmings… Madame Gervaise, you’ve outdone yourself.” She leaned close and murmured, “Has Lewis seen it yet?”
Anna shook her head. “No. It’s a secret.”
Cassie nodded once, decisively. “As it should be. Men like to keep secrets, we should have some too.”
“Tell me about your plans, Cassie.”
“We haven’t any, not yet. But I’ll come back later, or tomorrow, and we can talk woman stuff. On Thursday, Mama and I will be here early to help you dress. The day after tomorrow, Anna, can you believe it? I must run!”
Men like to keep secrets. That portfolio was one that Lewis kept well hidden. Would he be dreadfully upset?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The modiste had altered and refurbished several of Anna’s old gowns, so there were all those to inspect. She’d also brought a shift specially made to conform to the wide neckline of the wedding gown.
“It shows off your beautiful shoulders and collarbones, mademoiselle,” said Madame Gervaise. Not “mademoiselle” much longer.
Gloves and stockings followed, and shoes that matched the trim of the gown, a teal so dark it appeared almost black. These items Anna was expecting, though holding them still brought a tremulous thrill.
Then came a silk nightdress in soft blue, so gossamer it revealed more than it hid, with a dressing gown in a darker shade. It would never keep her warm, but did a reasonable job of covering her.
“This isn’t mine,” Anna told madame.
“Monsieur Aubrey ordered it, mademoiselle. He has excellent taste.” Putnam looked appalled.
But Mrs. Redfern patted Anna’s blushing cheek and sighed. “Just open the dressing gown a couple of inches and let him imagine the rest. Soon enough it will all come off and you won’t care anymore.”
Lewis and Mr. Lindale ate supper at the vicarage, and then Mr. Lindale returned to the inn. But Lewis came upstairs with her, his eyes bright and full of life. Such a change from a few short weeks ago! While Putnam came in and out, organizing the new things, they sat and talked of the day, the wedding, of this and that. Anna was half asleep when he lifted her legs aside and jumped up.
“Where is my portfolio? I want to show you that drawing Mother mentioned yesterday.”
Anna rose slowly, wide awake now. “It’s…in the wardrobe.” Chewing on her cheek, she touched her fingers to the side table to keep herself steady.
He pulled open the doors, pushed aside her gowns and found it at the back, pulled it out and headed for the bed. “I’m pleased with it. Don’t know that it’s worth framing, but I hope you like it.”
“Oh, I do! I mean… I saw it. I… I looked at them.”
He stood still, staring at her, his eyes deep and dark. The lids fluttered a little, then his gaze dropped to the portfolio in his hands. He seemed so young, so vulnerable—Little Lew facing his brother’s ridicule, his parents’ disdain. She would never know all that he had suffered, before her and because of her, but she knew how deeply it had cut him. Because of the drawings.
She didn’t go near him. “I love the angel—that’s the one your mother saw? I love them all, even the ones that distress me.” He raised his gaze to hers. She took one half-step forward.
“They’re part of you, Lewis, and there’s a piece of you in each one of them—more than there is of me, I think. And it seems I love every piece of you. The boy you were before I ever knew you, and the man you’ve become. Oh, I saw your honor from the start, how you put everyone else’s cares before your own. Your gentleness too—I think the first thing I loved about you was your voice, soothing your horses at Green Park that day.”
One more step. If they both reached out an arm, their fingers might touch. “But since London you’ve become so much more. Your strength, your courage… You are the man I should have dreamed of.”
He looked down again, shifted the portfolio as though unsure what to do with it. She rushed two more steps toward him, her voice trembling in panic.
“You won’t destroy them, Lewis? Promise me you won’t destroy them!” She could see him sitting in his lonely room, feeding them to the flames one by one. His expression too, hard and bleak.
“Oh, say something!” She yanked the case from his hands and threw it onto the bed. “Yell at me, curse me, hate me, only say something! I’m sorry I did it… No, I’m not, because I love you so much more. More than I ever thought possible.”
His lips quirked up the least little bit, his eyes softened. He began to speak, cleared his throat, and started again. “I like the sound of that.”
She dashed to the table by her bed and pulled open the drawer, hurried to him with his self-portrait. “I’ve carried this with me all these months, ever since you drew it. It was such a comfort to know there was one good man out there, even if I could never have him.” The parchment was worn at the edges, the lines smudged with hard use.
“Oh, Lewis.” His arms closed round her, squeezing her tight, the paper crackling between them. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down. His bristly cheek pressed to hers, tears threatening in reaction to her dread.
“I’ll draw you a new one, sweetheart. A better one.” His voice was husky.
The day before the wedding, Putnam folded all their clothes and packed them away. Anna watched as the single trunk they had brought north became two trunks, and then three. Late in the afternoon they were carted off to the Aubreys’ house.
Left with only the gown she was wearing and the one for tomorrow, everything seemed very final. As often as she stopped herself from biting her cheek, she found she was doing it again.
Holly, the nursery maid, came for the day; she would begin her full-time duties tomorrow. She was barely eighteen, but the youngest of a large family with a generous supply of children’s songs and rhymes and ample experience caring for her nieces and nephews.
Amid all the bustle, Doris’s nursing times were precious, islands of calm in a river rushing to a foreign land, a place Anna had given up ever seeing. In the evening, after a warm bath perfumed with thyme and lavender, she sat on the window seat with her blanket, hugging her knees and gazing out into the night.
What would she be doing tomorrow at this time? Her room at the Aubreys’—the room she and Lewis would share—had no window seat, but there was a pretty view over the meadows toward the river. It was all snow now, but come spring it should be green and lovely, if they were still there. If not, spring would be even lovelier somewhere else.
Though fresh snow dusted the ground and rooftops, her wedding day dawned bright and clear. She watched it happen from the other window, too nervous to sleep. A little after six, Nancy came to lay the fire. Before she’d even finished Putnam came in with Doris. They must make time to feed her again after the ceremony, before leaving the house for the last time. At seven Kate and Barbara brought her breakfast. She couldn’t eat.
At eight Cassie and Lady Wedbury walked in, bringing with them a gorgeous bouquet of little pink roses tied up with ribbons and lace. “There’s a card,” Cassie said. “What does it say?”
“Love, L.” Anna flipped it over, but that was all. It was enough.
Dressing seemed to take a long time. While Anna shivered and fidgeted, the others worked around her, adjusting each seam and gather until it fell perfectly. Holly brought the baby in to watch, and Kate and Barbara sat on the window seat, strictly adjured to silence by their mother.
Putnam did her hair in a style she’d never worn before, sleek and golden, with a jeweled comb that Lady Wedbury presented to her.
“Oh, my lady,” Anna breathed. It was a beautiful piece.
“It’s nothing,” Lady Wedbury said. “Your hands are like ice, child!” She rubbed them between her own while Putnam applied a bit of rouge, a dusting of powder, a little color on her lips. Nothing Putnam could do about the apprehension in her eyes.
The pearls Lewis had given her yesterday, her gloves, the roses… She was ready. Why should she be afraid?
Mr. Lindale waited downstairs to escort her to the church. The church yard had been swept but he carried her anyway. High-handed, like Lewis.
He set her down in the porch and the ladies twitched the gown into place. Anna felt a bit like a queen with her court.
Sir John stood inside the door and took her arm from Mr. Lindale. A hush fell—not silence, but whispers in place of the chatter that preceded them.
She smelled flowers. Not only her bouquet but baskets of Christmas roses, herbs, and orange blossoms.
She dared not look at the faces staring at her as Sir John led her down the aisle. There seemed to be a dreadful number of them. Why would all these people come to see her, a fallen woman, her child born out of wedlock? Please God, they never learned the rest. For Doris’s sake.
There was the vicar, and Jack Wedbury, and Lewis in front of them both. She fixed her gaze on his face.
She had no idea what she said, but it must have been right, because finally Mr. Redfern pronounced them man and wife, and Lewis kissed her, right in front of everyone, his lips curving into a grin as he held it too long. A couple of men chuckled.
They walked out hand in hand and stood in the porch while people filed past them with handshakes and congratulations. Anna blushed and nodded. Did she say anything at all? She didn’t know.
Pushed ahead by Lewis’s father without a chance to speak, Mrs. Aubrey looked back at Anna, desperate to convey some message. Anna could not leave, but Mr. Lindale stood beside her. “Please, would you see what Mrs. Aubrey wants?”
He trod down the steps, spent a brief moment with her, and returned to Anna’s side, wearing quite a different expression. Before he said a word, she knew.
“Gideon’s at the house.”