Anne stood in the midst of her drawing room, listening to the closing of the front door as Richard took his leave from number twelve. She was still exceedingly aware of the tingling from the exposed skin above her glove to which he touched his lips. Should she not have swooned at such an advance? Were not the ladies in her favourite novellas prone to fainting from such a brazen advance by the man they loved? She was certain they did not just stand, perplexed with their mouths agape. She crossed the room and seated herself upon the cerise satin settee. Her heart no longer raced, she no longer felt tearful. Her head however, felt as though hollow, devoid of all logical thought. She could not help but wonder at the odd sensations she felt at present. They were nothing like the familiar feelings of sadness and disappoint she normally felt after an altercation with Richard. He almost, but yet in truth did not, say he loved her. He implied it. He said he had always thought of her.
Always thought of her! She could not think of the words without heat rising within her chest. He thought of her always, yet saw no fit reason to do anything about it! What man, who believes himself to be so consumed by the soul of another, does nothing to secure the woman he wishes to call his own? No, the sensation within her chest was not the normal forlorn sadness of that of a girl with a broken heart, she was mad. Actually, for the first time in Anne's life, she felt positively furious.
How dare he simply feel he could walk in here and she would all but welcome him. She did not feel tearful. She was angry, not only for Richards assumption that she would choose the Darcy lifestyle to that of the role as happy wife of a Colonel; but that Richard had the nerve to imply that his missing her had brought him pain. What about her pain? She was rather certain Richard had not succumbed to illness only fuelled further by a broken spirt and aching heart. Richard had not locked himself away and wasted the best years of his youth, drowning in self-pity. Men could leave. They could move on. Men could go out in the world, find their own amusement and mix with people in such a way a woman never could. A woman could only fester in her own self loathing and pity, confined within the small world in which she is trapped. Where is her comfort to be found? Where was her escapism?
Thank heavens her aunt had removed her from Rosings Park to the wilds of the Scottish Highlands and the company of her vivacious relations. Anne was more certain now than ever that if her aunt had not rescued her from her own misery, it was most likely Anne would have all but given up on life. She had often wondered in her darkest of moods what would happen if she had just given up. Who would miss her, who would even remember her? Growing up in the shadow of her mother after the loss of her kind father, Anne had in all honestly not really known kindness or affection from anyone. Being moulded in such a way that there was to be no other path in life other than the path enforced upon you; Anne had never considered she could change the outcome of her future. Was that it? Had she fallen for Richard as a naive young girl simply because he was the only person to ever show her kindness? Surely not, there had to be more there than just that. There had to be. She refused to believe herself such a simpleton. The love she felt for Richard was real, it was all consuming. Was it not? She turned her wrist to gaze upon the bare flesh he had kissed only moments before. Yet why she wondered, at this very moment, after being so close to him; after listening to him as near as he was able tell her he still cared for her, why did she feel nothing?
She was still angry for his lack of backbone and apparent yielding to her mother's advice, but she did not feel the pain she now associated with her broken heart. The situation was most confusing indeed. Did Anne wish to allow herself to hope that there could still be some sort of future for them both? She had assumed that was what she had always desired.
She glanced towards the pretty Buell mantle clock, a gift from Edward upon her moving into the Square. It was now almost four o'clock. There would no longer be time to make the milliner's on Regent Street before its evening closure. She would be wise to consider changing for dinner. She looked at the clock again, Edward was late, she wondered what was keeping him. He would often arrive before this and simply read the paper while she dressed for dinner.
Deciding that she was tired of questioning herself over Richard, she left the drawing room and headed to her bedchamber to dress for the evening, ringing the bell for Hennie as she left.
Edward leaned back in the Hackney carriage, tugging impatiently at the crumpled sleeves of his jacket. He felt rather dishevelled this evening, which did not sit well with his usual impeccable appearance. The day had simply run away from him. He had spent much of the morning at the House of Lords, before spending a most enjoyable hour in the company of Lord Fraser. He had been spending more and more time visiting with his father's lifelong friend. It pained Edward to see the man so altered, so frail in comparison to the lively mountain of a man he recalled from his youth. Seeing Malcolm in such a state of poor health made Edward think of his own father in the last months of his own ruthless illness. He mourned the loss of his father deeply. It had been one of the reasons he had not visited his Lordship upon his first arrival in London. He had felt most embarrassed by his lack of attention to his Lordship when in the presence of Lady Bea. Poor Bea, never had a man and wife been so happy in the company of one another. Edward knew his Lordship was readying himself for an early departure from this world. Such a sad thought was a heavy idea to grasp, and only made Edward yearn for the comfort of his own father all the more.
The first visit had been difficult. The two had simply sat, the older gentleman wrapped in a blanket as he rested upon a chaise within his bedchamber. Once over the initial shock of his appearance, the following visits became much easier. Soon their exchanges became much as they had always been, for Malcolm still possessed his sharp mind and quick wit. It was not long before the two could be found playing a game of chess or a hand of cards. Frail as he was, the older gentleman took no mercy, and Edward could only but laugh as he lost each chess piece one by one. During these visits, as the gentleman laughed and conversed just as they had when Edward was a boy, Bea would watch from the doorway. She and Malcolm had never been blessed with a son of their own. The joy Edwards visits brought to Malcolm's sick bed was more visible than any concoction or remedy a doctor could prescribe.
Upon his leaving Lord and Lady Fraser's residence, Edward had been summoned by a messenger to return to the House of Lords, for his signature was required as a witness. Why the blasted thing had to be done in such a rush, Edward could not fathom, but go he did. These things always took so much longer than intended.
Normally Edward would walk to his address, change early for dinner, before heading to Grosvenor Square to spend as much of his evening as possible with Anne. Often he had evening engagements which he could not break. In most cases he managed to persuade Anne to join him as one of the party. In the cases in which he could not tempt her presence, he always felt sorely disappointed and never enjoyed the evening half so much without her company.
The evenings he looked forward to most were those when neither of them had any prior engagements and could spend much of the evening together. He would arrive late in the afternoon, and the two would spend an easy hour discussing news from their day. Anne would then pour him a brandy and leave him to read his preferred paper while she went to dress for dinner. He knew full well she ordered the London Chronicle for his own amusement only. Dinner had become quite an informal affair, with the two sat at rather close proximity as they spoke of all and of nothing. Edward had never felt so at ease in a another's company. He could only hope Anne felt the same.
After dinner the two would often play cards or simply converse while Anne embroidered. It just all felt so natural, so easy. Edward was convinced this was what marriage should be, to feel entirely content in the presence of the other. He was still determined to ask Anne to be his wife, he just wasn't sure when was the right moment to do so. He cherished what their friendship had become too greatly to ruin it with a rushed proposal.
As the Hackney finally came to a halt, Edward alighted from the carriage and took the front steps to number twelve two at a time. Coming home to Anne was becoming the best part of his day. He knocked on the door and waited.
"Mrs Marks you wonderful woman you, how are you this evening?" Edward asked as the housekeeper let him into the foyer and relieved him of his overcoat. "I appear to be rather late this evening, what in heavens name is that marvellous smell? I shall be stealing Miss de Bourgh's cook to come work for me."
The housekeeper was all smiles and warmth. She could not help but be charmed by Lord Colville. Although the staff had not been with their new mistress long, the entire household were in keen anticipation for the announcement of a union between their mistress and the Viscount.
"If you will my Lord wait in the drawing room, the Miss is still dressing for dinner. Shall I bring you anything while you wait?"
"No need Mrs Marks, no need. I can happily keep myself occupied until Miss de Bourgh decides to grace me with her company." Edward walked into the drawing room, picked up his paper from its usual spot on an end table, and took his preferred spot in the chair between the fire and the window. Moments later Mrs Marks placed a decanter by his side and poured him a small glass of brandy, before leaving him to read.
Anne descended the stairs and walked into the drawing room to find Edward comfortable behind his paper.
"You sir," she mocked, "are late." She took the seat opposite him. How glad she was to have Edwards company. After the earlier upset of Richards visit, Anne could use the distraction of Edward and his most entertaining conversation. "How was your day?"
The two spent the next half an hour discussing the events of Edwards day. Anne did not feel the need to share her exchange with Richard. The most amusing theory from Mrs Avery about her and Edwards apparent betrothal had completely slipped her mind.
As they ate dinner, which included grilled mackerel with fennel, a particular favourite of Edwards, the two spoke of the fast approaching Epsom Derby and Edwards high hopes for his entry. Aella, who had already won the 2000 Guinea's was currently a favourite amongst the racing set.
"It means whirlwind in ancient Greek," Edward told her, describing his choice of name for the fine Arabian. "And let me tell you the girl doesn't disappoint, she runs like the wind."
"Well I am biased for I believe no other horse in your possession could be half so great as my dear Amirah. I still cannot believe such a creature is mine."
"Well believe it Anne," Edward laughed. "For there will be no returning her to me again in the future. She belongs to you, you were made for one another. You know she was slightly on the too small side to race, and she has never taken half so well to anyone in the saddle bar you."
After dinner the two took up their usual positions in their favourite chairs in the drawing room. Neither had any prior engagements this evening so could both spend a leisurely evening simply in each others company before Edward took his leave.
"Do you wish for your pipe this evening?" Anne asked. "I had Mrs Marks clean it for you earlier, it is within a box in the kitchen, I can have her bring it to you?" Anne stood up with the intention to ring for the housekeeper.
"Oh no, not this evening," said Edward, instinctively reaching out gently to take Anne by the wrist to stop her before she rang the bell. "It is not something I require everyday. I find myself most relaxed this evening and am in no need for such a distraction."
"Very well," said Anne softly, glancing at his hand wrapped around her wrist. His hands seemed so dark and large against her ivory skin. She felt a tingling up her arm from his touch. He let go of her arm as he continued talking, as though he had not even realised he had touched her so intimately. She felt rather disappointed that he appeared unmoved by such an action.
"I must say Anne this room is an absolute vision. Your style is both feminine but subtle. Have you remodelled the whole of the house?"
"I am afraid I can not take all the credit," she replied taking her seat once more. "The architect did most of the hard work and as you know Georgiana was exceedingly helpful in aiding me upon papers and fabrics choice. I think we only left the original flooring in the foyer... and the origin staircase was in no way altered, but everything else was modernised in some way. Except the master suite of course."
"You did not see fit to alter anything in your private chambers?" Edward asked curiously. "Why would you not wish to alter your own private rooms, surely I would of thought that a ladies most exciting project."
"Oh, no," Anne laughed, "I altered my rooms rather drastically, I even had an additional window added. No, I meant my mother's rooms. I took the largest of the remaining guest rooms as my own, I assume it must have been my father's at some point. I have left the master bedroom just as it was. In fact I haven't even unlocked the room."
"You haven't even unlocked the door?" Edward asked in awe. "What do you mean? The rooms just sitting up there shut up? Anne the house is yours, the master chambers belong to you."
"I just felt uncomfortable, taking over my mother's private room. It is not as though she ever allowed me admittance. It felt like a breach of trust I could not undertake. It is of no great concern to me, the rooms in which I reside are more than adequate, beautiful in fact. She has always kept her chambers locked, even the staff whom looked after the house before I took over, only entered the rooms prior to my mother's arrival in order to clean. They told me as much when they handed over the keys."
"Do you have the keys?" Edward asked his curiosity piqued.
"Yes of course," Anne replied not following his train of thought.
"But you've never actually been inside her room? Never even considered taking just a very small peek?" He raised his eyebrow in her direction.
"No of course not," Anne replied starting to feel uneasy as she realised what he was implying. "Edward no, I can not, I refuse to do such a thing. She would be mortified if she thought I went looking about her rooms."
"Anne why do you care so much for your mother's approval? From all the things you have told me of her, I can not believe she deserves such a dutiful daughter or such kindness as you bestow upon her." He stood up. "Come along, we shall look together. Are you not curious? If anything the master rooms belong to you, but even so, are you not just curious?"
"Edward I do not know, it is not right. It is tempting I shall admit." Anne sat a moment thinking what to do. In truth she was curious. "If we do, you must promise not to touch anything. We shall leave the room just as we found it. Do you agree?"
He smiled at her nodding his head in agreement. He looked every inch the naughty school boy.
"Lord Colville, you Sir are a bad influence," Anne laughed as she headed towards a small writing desk in the corner of the room. Opening a small hidden drawer, she pulled out a large set of keys and finally found the one she was looking for.
"Well lead the way, my dear," smiled Edward most pleased with himself, for he loved a good adventure into the unknown. "And may I just point out, it did not take me too much convincing."
Anne looked at him with mock disapproval, before pointing her tongue out at him in a most childlike manner as she headed towards the stairs. Edward, roaring with laughter at her response to his teasing, grabbed a candlestick from the mantle and followed her lead.