Jack was extremely relieved when the buggy finally took a turn onto the lane, the only large drag in the borough. They would reach their destination in five minutes, and then he would be able to walk far away from this fiasco. Shame quickly followed the relief: Anne hadn't done anything wrong. For all her character faults and bad decisions, she was probably the closest to being blameless in this mess.
Good ol' Jack, the guys at the office would say, always chasing tail, and they were right. He hadn't meant to get involved - he wasn't a busybody, and didn't do complicated. Sure, he was a sucker for women. Yet, so unlike the sensual, buxom wildcats who'd called out at him with voices gravelly from smoking (he'd enjoyed the company of such a dame on several occasions), Anne was delicate and prim, without a clue as to the art of seduction. It should have annoyed him, but there was also something about her that was incredibly enticing: some spunk in her subdued character, a sharpness to her fragility, a hidden strength to bite back. The combination was intoxicating, like salted caramel: savory and sweet, dangerously addictive. If she'd been dealt a different hand in life, she would have had been one of those perfect, untouchable women, the kind mere mortals only dreamed of.
Wrong on two counts, Jack. You do dream of her, and she is the very definition of untouchable. Remember her husband? that bloke sitting next to you, slumped over like a sorry sack of gravel?
It had been easier before meeting him in person: he'd imagined a big, burly bear of guy, an oaf with a rounded pouch where his stomach used to be, who put his muddy shoes up on the furniture, and spat tobacco on the pristine floor. Then he'd found out he was a doctor: not an oaf, then. An older man - a father figure who enjoyed her youth a little too much. After a bit of research, though, he'd discovered that Dr. Blythe was Anne's senior by only three years. It was harder to imagine her married to an ugly young doctor, but surely he had his share of bad traits, why else would she have left him? An arrogant, work-obsessed man who felt superior to her: bossed her around, expected her to tend to his every need.
He couldn't have been more wrong. Dr. Blythe was nothing more than a poor clueless fellow whose wife had left him. If he'd neglected her, even hurt her, Gilbert had no idea what it was he'd done. The man couldn't harm a fly. Jack smirked: he doubted Gilbert remembered what had transpired after bumping into Ike back at the tavern. Ike had spent the next ten minutes introducing Blythe to his right fist. And the good doctor had apologized to everyone with whom he'd collided in the process, including a table and a couple stools.
So, the man was gentle, didn't have a mean bone in his body. And, on a regular day, he was likely to be a good looking man. He saw the way the doctor's suit laid slightly too slack: with his tall frame, his build must be athletic, though recent weight loss made him seem frail and lank. His dull, tired eyes might usually sparkle with that quality women called 'dreamy', and the frayed bird's nest on top of his head had been slicked into dark, glossy waves when they'd first met. With some rest, a good meal and a better shave, he would be handsome. Of course Anne would be completely smitten with him, he thought with a twinge of disgust, who wouldn't?
Oh, it wasn't low self-esteem: Jack was aware of his own attributes. He had rugged good looks, bright eyes that twinkled with fun and mischief, and a suave grin that made ladies puddle inside. One wink, and they were putty in his hands.
Well, he wasn't interested in that kind of encounter anymore. Because of her. Breathing hard through his nose, he forced his temper (and other emotions he didn't feel like pondering) to the side, and spoke: "We're nearly there: fourth house on the left." He'd thought of this information as a piece of good news, but instead of rejoicing, Blythe turned even paler. Ah, well. All would be well soon. The prince would be reunited with his princess, and they would ride off together, and stay happily married ever after. And Jack would shake off this crazy infatuation once and for all, and go back to his life.
When Dr. Lebrun stepped out of the house to greet them, though, he sensed that something was amiss. Gilbert jumped out of the buggy before Dickens had stopped, and ran up to the house. By the time Jack had parked and joined them, the discussion had already gotten heated.
"What do you mean, she's not here?" yelled Gilbert. "What did you people do to her?"
"Dr.?" Both men turned around, but Lebrun was the one whom Jack was addressing. "What's going on?"
"You just missed Anne. She left this morning."