Chapter 1
Anna had been gone for far too long. The concert would be over by the time she returned. John wasn't sure he liked opera, though he appreciated it. There was such an artifice to it, but again, such talent, and he was moved. The Puccini. Anna had left during it. The Puccini was, not beautiful, but touching. He shifted. He didn't know the words, but he understood the meaning. At the second instance of the "È bello" with its soaring resonant note, John lurched in his chair. A woman was in love with a man, and there was disapproval and strife. They were in Florence. John picked out Arno and Ponte Vecchio. He wanted to share it with Anna, this sound that had caught his soul, but she had a headache.
John wondered if he should go downstairs to check on her. She had been gone far too long. He started to rise, but then the music started again. If Anna's head hurt badly enough for her to leave the concert, she was probably lying down in Mrs. Hughes's sitting room, taking advantage of the dark and quiet. He smiled. He hated that she was missing this, but with the general busyness of the house party, she'd run herself ragged, collapsing as soon as they were home. John was glad they were all leaving in the morning. Anna usually wasn't phased by extra activity, but she'd been tired lately, and sensitive. John hoped he knew the reason. He hoped Lady Mary hadn't taken a fancy to Lord Gillingham. This aria wasn't as moving as the Puccini. It was difficult to find the sense of it. There was just something about Green John didn't like. He knew it was irrational. He and Anna had spoken about it, but he just….he didn't know why. He had spoken to Anna harshly earlier. He needed to apologize. It was his own irritation with Green, and it spilled out on her. She was without fault. She would disagree, but it was true.
The concert was over. John stood, and turned. He had time to check on Anna before Lord Grantham would need him. Green was straightening his tie. John knew what it was. He reminded John of a soldier he had known in Africa who wasn't what he seemed. Green looked nervous. That soldier had also been charming, popular, funny, but he wasn't to be trusted. Green looked up and smiled at John. John nodded. Anna was so bright she didn't see it. Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps he had been made suspicious by spending so much time with so many unsavory characters. The soldier had been a swindler. John had been glad they hadn't been around many women, though there had been a native maid in the officers' quarters. John was one of the few who believed that this soldier was behind her sudden disappearance. They had been friendly. John shook his head. He should really be on his way to Anna. He smiled. She would chide him for being so concerned. He'd try to get her home as early as possible, perhaps a nice bath, tea by the fire, and tucked into their warm bed. His life really was perfect.