2

Gentle laughter reached her before she entered the parlor. The golden peak of sunset retreated through windows growing cooler in the twilight. A cheery fire crackled in the hearth on the opposite wall. Holly berries popped from green leaves covering the mantel.

Ruby and Mattie, heads together, both looked up when she entered the room.

“I declare, Margaret, the decorations exceed the bounty of last year.” All eyes in the room focused on the woman who spoke. She was the tallest woman Ann had ever seen. Her hair, uplifted in ringlets, missed dusting the ceiling by mere inches. Next to her stood a man whose wig did occasionally snag the ceiling swirls.

Mrs. Archer beamed at the praise. “Thank ye, Clementine. We are so glad ye and William could make it for Christmas.”

“Delighted, Sister.” William offered a bow.

“Pray, tell us who are all these people?”

Glad someone else said it, Ann paid close attention. She recognized her friends of course, and Vicar Carson, the middle-sized, middle-of-the-road rector and his wife, Betsy. She knew Mattie’s parents, but a couple of the young men’s names escaped her though she should know who they were. Ann shot a look toward Reed. Of course, she knew Reed. Had he known his former intended would be here?

“The young men with Reed are old school chums. Hugh Pollard.”

The man stepped up to bow.

Mrs. Archer nodded with a smile wreathing her face.

“Jacob Morgan.” Given Mattie’s feelings for the kindhearted Jacob, Ann had never forgotten him for a minute.

“Of course yer son, Griffen.”

Clementine grinned at the young men and then followed Mrs. Archer’s gesture to the corner where Ann stood with her friends. Ruby curtsied, then Mattie. Ann could feel Reed’s gaze on her before her name was called. Anger stiffened her curtsy. She kept her focus on Miss Clementine, rigidly refusing to glance to his side of the room.

Spooner announced dinner just as Mrs. Archer finished her introductions.

Ann found herself seated between the Vicar on her left and Jacob on her right. Jacob dallied long enough with Mattie in the parlor for Clementine to lean across his empty seat.

“Later ye must tell me exactly what my nephew has done to earn yer rebuff.” Clementine whispered just loud enough for the entire table to hear.

Ann kept her mouth shut for fear of sharp words.

“Ye needn’t be afraid of me, my dear. I’m quite outspoken, I am sure I don’t know how my dear William puts up with me.”

William, seated to Mrs. Archer’s left, lifted his wine glass in toast. “Blunt is the better word.”

Across from Ann, Ruby barely controlled a snicker.

“I’ve always thought it made for better relationships to just say what I mean. Get it out there. Then it can be dealt with—whatever it is.”

Bewildered, Ann smoothed the napkin over her skirt.

“Ye will get used to me,” Clementine tucked her voice a little lower.

Thank goodness. Mattie was so close. Ann glanced at her friend whose eyebrows were raised quite to her hairline.

Ann cleared her throat. “But what about people’s feelings? Don’t ye think one must moderate what one says in order to spare undo pain to others?”

“Of course, my dear. I said I was outspoken, I did not mean to suggest that I hurl insults at anyone unfortunate enough to cross my path. I just think that if there is a misunderstanding or something about which friends disagree, it’s best to make a bold and clean statement of the facts and clear up the mess. It’s too hard on the stomach otherwise.”

Clementine winked at her as Jacob claimed his seat. As outrageous as Reed’s aunt had first appeared, Ann found she agreed with Clementine. Certainly, between friends such a course would make sense. She’d tried to tell her mother that she would not marry Reed Archer. And after the display in the barn, she wasn’t sure she could make it through the twelve days of Christmas in his company. Her mother hadn’t listened. The only course left then was to take Clementine’s advice and speak to Reed herself. After all, they had been friends once. She peeked down the table to see him scowling back at her.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Clementine twinkled, “he can take it.”

Jacob leaned back, “Who can take what?”

“Never ye mind, Mr. Morgan.”

Jacob lowered his voice to Ann with amusement infused in his countenance. “Mrs. Foster is a known instigator.”

Ann smoothed the napkin over her skirt. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Of course ye wouldn’t.” Her anxiety evaporated in the warmth of conspiratorial laughter he offered.

~*~

Reed knew exactly what caused Annie to scowl at him. And here he sat at the head of the table, his mother at the foot. His mother, as adept as she was in the seating of guests, had managed to put the only person in whom he had any interest at the center of the table with his Aunt Clementine on her right. Which meant he could barely see her, let alone converse. He needed to explain what she’d seen. He could not forget the stricken look on her face before she’d run from the barn.

“…was it?”

Silence brought him back to the present. Hugh looked expectantly at him. The twinkle in Jacob’s observant eyes told him he’d seen too much already. “I beg yer pardon, Hugh.”

“No problems, I find myself a bit distracted in present company. Though I daresay ye had livelier company in London, eh?” The last bit he slipped in a low whisper. Not so low that questions didn’t appear in the ladies’ eyes to his left and right.

Reed allowed his impatience to show. “I am sure I don’t know what ye mean.”

“As ye say.” With a smirk, Hugh took a swallow of half his wine.

Reed had it coming. There was no earthly reason for any of them to expect better of him, but he wished again that his mother had not invited Hugh Pollard to Christmas.

Reed took a deep breath and cast his gaze around the table. Despite the unfortunate seating, before him sat all the people that meant the most to him in the world. For that, he found thankfulness welling in his heart. There would be time to speak to Annie. Time to find the answers to questions that poked him in quiet moments. Had she thought of him at all in the past five years? He filled his lungs again. It was Christmastide, and she would be here with him to celebrate the second greatest miracle in all of history.

“Griffen,” Reed called to his cousin sitting on the far side of Ruby, “it’s been an age. Tell us all what ye’ve been about this last year.”

Food came and went. Cold Virginia ham, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, beans, squash, cherry pie, and his favorite apple brown betty. Reed couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so full. It blessed him to see that true to form, Ann supped well. She’d always had a healthy appetite and more energy than her colorless peers. He’d nearly forgotten her, but over the past year, as he changed his habits, her friendship came more and more to the front of his mind. He had every intention of exploring that spiritual leading, if in fact, it was a spiritual leading. He’d made a life-altering decision, and he’d no intention of going back on his word. Old ways wouldn’t do, he needed a wife. And except for the stricken look on her face when she’d encountered him by the barn, she was everything he thought his wife should be.

“Ladies, shall we?” Mrs. Archer stood.

The ladies followed her to the parlor.

“Gentleman, since we’ve been assured that there will be a spot of dancing, I know where I would rather be,” Hugh declared. He knocked Spooner and his bottle of port into the wall as he skirted out of the room. A few minutes later, Reed found his old friend surrounded by all the young ladies his mother had invited who were laughing at something he’d said.

Reed took up in the corner closest to the door, content with a full belly and a house full of good friends. He eyed Hugh. Well, mostly friends.

“Ye’ll never get a dancing partner with that look.” Jacob took a place next to Reed.

He relaxed. “Perhaps.” He cast a grin to his oldest friend. “I can’t begin to know what she was thinking to invite him here.”

“I’m sure she wanted to please ye. Hugh was a friend of ours.”

“Was.”

“Yes.”

“He was always up to something, and I have a feeling that hasn’t changed one bit.”

Reed slipped out the door when his mother called for her guests to repair to the hall for the evening’s entertainment.

As he knew she would, Annie followed last in the flow of guests. He touched her arm.

She spun to face him as surprise widened her lovely blue-gray eyes.

“I believe this is yers.” He offered the basket he’d found toppled in the small room in the barn.

Relief returned her eyes to their normal sphere. “Ye are very kind, Mr. Archer.”

“Ye are very formal, Miss Wright.” Heart thudding, he took a step closer. “Can we not go back to our childhood days when I was Reed and ye were Little Annie?”

Ann stepped back two spaces. “I concede the basis for yer claim, Mr. Archer, but we are not the same people we were then. I see no need to pretend there is a friendship where one no longer exists.”

She could not have startled him more if she’d reached out and slapped him in the face with her basket.

“Forgive me.” He managed.

“There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Archer.”

“May I request the first dance this evening?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “Now, if ye will excuse me.” She slipped past him and headed for the stairs.

~*~

Ann flushed as she made her way quickly down the corridor to her bedchamber. She prayed she hadn’t been too discourteous. At the same time, pleasure rushed to soothe her worry. She’d told him exactly what she thought. If she was blunt, she wasn’t sorry. If she’d been unkind, she would have to apologize. It was kind of him to bring her basket. It saved her a trip to the barn tonight.

They were halfway through the first set when Ann returned to the hall. Three musicians played near the wall of window lights. Chairs scattered in small groups adorned the remaining walls. In the center, five couples stepped and bounced to the Sir Roger De Coverly. Ann slipped to an empty chair next to her parents and Mrs. Archer to watch her dear friend, Mattie, dance with Reed.

He moved with more grace than his large frame should allow. Ann tore her gaze from his lithe form before her mother could catch her bad manners. Mattie kept her attention on Jacob as she always did. He met Ruby in the center and skipped back to the line. For his part, Jacob seemed oblivious to Mattie’s affection for him. Ann sent a prayer to heaven that he would see before it was too late.

Griffen caught her eye from across the set. A large, warm grin made its way from him to inflame her cheeks. She didn’t have much history with Reed’s cousins, but the apple didn’t fall far from the Archer tree. The same good looks that distracted her in Reed were present in his cousin, though she didn’t seem to have the same reaction to Griffen as she did to Reed.

Reed wobbled, the dancers widened to accommodate and then tightened back into crisp lines. Reed sent her a shy smile and shrugged.

Her belly flipped.

When the set ended, Jacob headed toward Mattie.

Ann breathed a sigh of relief in concert with her friend.

“Rise, dear.” Her mother’s fan tapped her elbow.

Ann toppled the chair as her knees straightened.

Griffen bowed over her hand.

Reed stood in the background as bewilderment crossed his features.

“May I have this dance?” Griffen’s greeting, with all the warmth of Dorcas’ beef stew on a snowy day, failed to bring any reaction save feelings of true friendship.

Indeed, she was grateful to leave off sitting with nothing to do with her hands. Now, if she’d been able to slip out her knife and the small piece of wood even now resting in her pocket, well, the others could dance until tomorrow, and she’d be content to sit until they were done. “Mr. Foster, I would love to dance with ye, but I have promised this dance to yer cousin.”

A grin drove bewilderment from Reed’s face.

Ann’s heart skittered a beat. She placed her hand in his outstretched one. A tingle ran from her fingers right up her sleeve.

“Miss Wright.”

“Mr. Archer.”

The music of a country dance swept them into its rhythm. The tempo kept them from speaking more than a phrase in passing.

“I’m afraid I was discourteous to ye earlier.” She offered as she passed under his arm.

“Think nothing of it.”

“Ye are very kind.” The movement whirled them away from each other and back again.

“I find that my fond thoughts of home these past months have perhaps been a bit too rosy. I had assumed—”

Curiosity kept her gaze glued to him as they circled with another couple.

“Assumed what?” she asked when they were once again paired.

The dance spun them breathless before it ended. He offered his arm and headed toward her parents.

“I am not sure what ye assumed—”

He tugged her in closer to his side. “Ye may rest assured that all of my assumptions, no matter how rosy, have been brought to the light of a noonday sun.” He bowed and left her with a spin of his heel.

Griffen offered his hand.

Ann placed her hand in his and followed him to the dance.

She knew it! Reed thought their marriage was a fixed thing. His presumptuous father, no doubt, had told him that her parents would be delighted to join their families through marriage.

Ann thanked God for her own kinder father. He’d allowed Olivia to have a say in her marriage. Ann expected no less for herself.

“Was it something I said?” Griffen teased from his position across from her. The music started, and Ann met him in the middle of the floor.

“Do ye ever feel as though there are mysteries afoot that concern ye, and ye can’t quite make it out?”

“Like a proposed match between ye and my cousin?”

Ann stopped mid-step.

Griffen grabbed her hand and yanked her to the next position.

“What have ye heard?”

“Nothing more unless ye count that there is hope for me as well with Miss Archer.”

“Ruby? Does she know?”

“No idea.”

Reed slipped out of the room while Ann danced with Jacob. She lost track of him and the number of sets after that.

Deep in the night, Ann finally slipped under the covers and gazed at the sky. She couldn’t blame Mr. Archer for wanting to set his affairs in order before he died, but goodness, what a mess. She lifted another prayer of thanks for her own father.