He stood, breathing deeply after his outburst. What the hell was she thinking gallivanting in the woods in that god damn contraption. He knew Anne's preference for driving her little carriage; but for her to be so careless was beyond all belief. For her to drive like that on uneven ground at such a speed, had she lost all common sense? He could feel his anger building from within, how could she be so reckless? Did she not know how foolish and dangerous she was behaving. What if something were to happen to her he thought with panic. "I'm serious Anne, what the devil possessed you to ride in such a manner, how could you be so unthinking?"
"It was not my intention," Anne replied her voice shaken. "I am sorry, but I never meant to put anyone in harm's way. If I had known I would surely of taken another route. I have been taking this path most afternoons since my return and not once have I met another soul." Her most unapologetic response for simply being caught driving at such a speed only appeared to infuriate the Colonel further. She looked up into his stern face. She had never seen him so cross, she dropped her head and looked down at the muddy ground. Not only had she ruined his breeches, but she had dropped her skirts which now sat in the wet dirt. "I am truly sorry," she repeated not daring to meet his eye. Richard said nothing, he simply looked down at her in disapproval.
Oh, why did it have to be him she thought. Could she not have collided with anyone else but him? Why must she always appear such a childish fool in his presence. She could feel the anger radiating from his person and took his silence as confirmation of his utter disapproval of her behaviour. She willed herself not to cry, no good had ever come from crying where Richard was concerned.
Richard looked at Anne, her head hung low. The girl was only sorry for being caught, he thought with exasperation; she's wasn't even wearing a bonnet, the sun shone bright but it could still rain! How was it that she could make could him so angry, Richard prided himself on his level temper, but Anne always managed to ruffle his composure. He knew exactly why she made him so unlike himself and it was this very reason he had avoided being left alone with her thus far at Rosings. He did not care one jot for his mud covered clothing, or the fact he had jumped head first into the undergrowth; his annoyance came from his overwhelming fear for her total disregard for her own safety. It was easier to scold her than to sweep her into his arms and hold her close until she promised never to be so foolishly reckless again. Perhaps the best solution would be to have a word with his aunt and have the bloody two-seater contraption removed from Anne's possession.
She would not look at him, her head low, her brown curls falling loosely over her face. His hot temper had run its course and he could feel his initial chagrin begin to pass. "Anne," he said softly. She did not raise her head, still she would not look at him. Without thinking, he pulled the glove from his right hand and reached out. Cupping her chin in his hand he raised her face till their eyes met. Looking into her eyes he gently ran his thumb along the base of her cheek. Her skin felt cool and smooth against his own.
Anne stood completely still, though her heart pounded and blood roared in her ears. Every sense was on high alert. She could feel the roughness and heat from his skin as it gently skimmed against her jaw. Heat rose, travelling up her neck to her face. She had no idea what to do, what to say, she did not trust her emotions.
"Anne," he repeated, taking a tentative step forward, closing the distance between them. She continued to look up at him; she worried her bottom lip, unsure what to say, fearful that she would say the wrong thing and the moment would be lost.
"What if something happened to you," he said softly, "can you not see I simply do not wish to see you harmed."
"I am sorry," she whispered turning her cheek slightly into the warmth of his hand.
"Do not apologise to me," he replied, his eyes dark and intense as they studied her face. He tilted his head, bringing his face closer to her. "Simply promise me you will take more care in future." She could feel his breath against her forehead, accompanied by the most unusual tingling sensation down her spine.
He was entirely aware how foolish he was being, how inappropriate his conduct. He was exceedingly close to doing something he would not be able to undo. "You are lucky it was just me you happened upon, he said slowly his hand dropping to caress the curve of her neck. "Imagine if it were poor Mrs Collins or the lovely Miss Bennet exposed to your carriage antics," he teased in a low rich murmur. He was just about to lower his head to hers when she suddenly pulled back from him.
"You take a great deal of interest in that particular lady," Anne replied sharply. "Why you and Darcy seem to never be apart from the lovely Miss Bennet." Anne could not hide the hurt in her voice. He thought Elizabeth lovely.
Richard took a step back, his chest tightening. Had Anne also noticed the way Darcy looked at Miss Bennet. Richard had been aware of Darcy's distraction in the presence of the pretty young woman from the moment of their introduction. Later he had learnt the two were already previously acquainted. It was the tone in Anne's voice which cut him to the core, the clear taint of jealousy. Surely Anne could not be worried about Darcy looking at a woman so beneath his notice. He knew Darcy's eye was drawn to the handsome Miss Bennet, but he was confident that was where the attraction would end. Surely Anne knew Darcy well enough to not feel threatened by poor Miss Bennet. "Really Anne that is beneath you," he chided. "Taking a gibe at a woman whose society is so decidedly beneath your own."
"Whatever are you speaking of," said Anne in a less than tranquil tone. She was such a confusion of feelings. On one hand Richards dismissive remark about Elizabeth caused her heart to swell, however it was also met with vexation. How dare he slight her new friend, she expected that sort of pompous behaviour from Darcy but not of Richard. Her mother was right, perhaps Richard was just as keen to secure a lady of high birth and wealth as the rest of the family. Second sons after all must carve their own way in life.
"Trust a man to only see a woman within the shallow realm of his own aspirations of society," she retorted, lifting her muddy skirts and turning to leave. "If you will excuse me, I think I have taken the air quite long enough for one afternoon. I shall take the carriage back to the house, I am sure you are more than capable of finding your own way back."
Richard stood, his mouth open, his astonishment obvious, as he watched Anne march back to her phaeton. What the devil had just happened? Only a moment ago he had been about to throw caution to the wind and do the one thing he had spent the best part of 6 years wanting to do; then suddenly the moment was gone. They were arguing and Richard was not entirely sure why. He had only tried to reassure her with regards to Miss Bennet and Darcy. He could not understand Anne's reaction. He had no idea what to think of Anne at present, for a fleeting moment he had felt she mirrored his desire. He watched, still dumbfounded, as she pulled the reins, turned the carriage about and headed in the direction of the house.
On her return Anne was relieved to find no one in attendance as she entered the grand foyer of the house. She retired to her room in order to dress for dinner. Looking down at the mud covered state of her skirts, she felt such a fool; the afternoons unexpected incident leaving her feeling utterly mortified. How could she have been such a simpleton, she had been so sure he was going to kiss her. She had been in love with Richard for as long as she could remember, perhaps she had always loved him. She knew the expectations from her family with regards to her and Darcy and although Darcy was a good man, he had never held any power over her heart.
As Hennie styled her hair, Anne sat quietly deep in thought. She thought back to that last summer since she had been in Richards company. She had been nineteen. Darcy had come of age, and following the tragic death of his father, both he and Richard held guardian ship over Darcy's younger sister, Georgiana. The poor girl was only ten when she became orphaned and Anne's heart went out to her as she knew how hard it was to lose a beloved father, and at such tender an age.
It was one of the rare summers that her mother had agreed to leave Rosings and travel to her ancestral home in Yorkshire. Her brother, the Earl of Matlock was a jolly man and Anne loved being with him and Lady Annabel. Henry on the other hand, Richards elder brother was not her favourite company, but was rarely to be found at home, preferring the card tables and society of London all year round.
It had been a month of pure joy for Anne. Georgiana had been there, and Anne truly loved her sweet little cousin. Darcy however was not. Although his name was mentioned, incessantly so by her mother, Anne had been relieved by his absence. Now that he was of age, the expectations from the family of their forthcoming nuptials were so great, they could no longer be taken as a mere suggestion. No, everyone within their sphere of influence intended to see them wed. The only problem was, Anne's heart was not in such a plan, and she was entirely certain that though he was fond of her, Darcy did not love her either. Although Anne knew nothing of what it truly meant to be in love, the feelings she had always held for Richard became apparently clear over those weeks in Yorkshire. He was home only for a short duration before being deployed to some foreign European destination. The thought of him leaving, filled Anne with a melancholy she had never experienced before. She had truly felt sick at the thought of him leaving. It was during a game of croquet on the lawn, when Richard innocently put his arms around her to correct her swing, that she had realised it. Her feelings for Richard were so unlike any of the feelings she had ever felt towards another. Butterflies exploded in her stomach when he was near, the spicy, clean scent of his skin made her shiver, everything about him had her entire being on alert.
She had tried at the time, to talk to her mother of these feelings. She did not mention the gentleman in question, but simply asked what it felt like to be in love. Her mother, with narrowed eyes and a hard mouth had coldly replied that love was merely an illusion, a fleeting fancy that would leave you only disappointed and none the better for its occurrence. Anne had asked her mother to explain this response, surely there was more to be said? Her mother had simply sat in silence and Anne decided it was best not to speak to her mother on such matters ever again.
"Miss, do you not think you would prefer to wear the blue gown with the silver trim this evening," asked Hennie, bringing Anne back into the present.
Anne smiled at the young girl, she had been awful company this evening, barely saying a word to the poor lass. "No I am fine as I am," she replied looking in the mirror. "I am in no mood to play dress up this evening."
At half past six Anne was summoned to the drawing room. As she descended the stairs she was met by an agitated Darcy, pacing at the foot of them.
"Anne," he said rushing towards her, "I am glad I have caught you alone. Anne we must speak in private." He was clearly troubled by something; but Anne didn't have the zeal required for such an exchange.
"Not now Darcy," Anne replied, "I have had enough conversation for one day. Whatever it is you wish to discuss can wait until tomorrow. I shall meet you at the lakeside pavilion after tea with mother. No one shall interrupt us there." She smiled at him and searched his face, he did seem out of sorts. He nodded at her, his furrowed brow relaxing.
"Until tomorrow then," he smiled with out much feeling and taking her arm in his, escorted her into the drawing room.