Edward could not help but watch Anne as she ascended the staircase before him. The curve of her hip was accentuated with each step she took, contrasting greatly against the narrowing of her waist. From such a position he could take full advantage of her form, for typically such a pleasing display was hidden from view by high-waisted dresses. He could not help wonder at the promise beneath.
Control yourself man, he scolded himself. But he could not help it. The more time he spent with Anne the greater his desire for her grew. Although there was no denying Anne was pleasing to the eye, it was also her mind and countenance he admired greatly. Every facet of her being, every quirk and habit he found immensely pleasing. This was no passing fancy; Anne was perfection in his eyes. He knew he should not be spending so much time alone in her company, it was improper, yet it was so natural. He could not give a damn about proprietary. In any case, if it meant he must marry the girl in order to calm any rumours, so be it. It only made the situation more perfect; she would be his bride and return to Scotland with him at the end of the season.
Anne was so unassuming and naive in terms of London's need for salacious gossip, she was probably unaware of how dangerous her casual friendship with Edward could be perceived from the outside world. Was he taking advantage of thier prior acquaintance? While staying with Angus and his family Edward had been received and included as just one of the family. Forever present with no need for such formalities amongst friends. It was no wonder his sweet Anne saw him no differently now.
But it was different. Here, they were miles away from the privacy of secluded family estates and the intimacy of just family around them. Edward and Angus had grown up together as close brothers; of course, no one had thought leaving Edward and Anne alone together during her stay in Elgin to be anything improper. Yet this was London. She was, for all intents and purposes, all on her own. She had the Darcy's nearby certainly, but who else would look after her wellbeing if not Edward?
As they approached the top of the landing Edward stopped. Realising he was no longer following her to the end of the hall, Anne turned to look at him.
"Whatever if the matter, she asked perplexed by his sudden hesitation. "Oh, you do not suddenly call chicken when it was you who initiated such a scheme?"
He smiled at her. "No indeed not, curiosity is an awful thing and I am afraid I am powerless to it. Though as curious is I am, I cannot go any further. It would be improper for me to enter into your mother's bedchamber."
Anne laughed. "What on earth do you mean? You have just confirmed you are most curious?"
"Yes, but it would not be correct, you and I entering a bedroom together."
Anne looked back at him, confused by his sudden change in demur. Why was he being suddenly so serious. What did that matter? In Elgin the two of them had played hide and seek with the children all over Angus's house. Why once the two of them had hidden in a rhododendron bush for over an hour until the children found them. Had he grown tiresome of her company?
"Edward do not be silly," she said, walking back towards him. "It is only you and I present; we are in no danger of making a spectacle.
"That is exactly my point Anne, it is just you and I. No one else present, you have no companion present."
"You know full well I am almost six and twenty," laughed Anne at Edwards ridiculous sudden notion that she was in need of a companion. She was no fresh-faced young girl, nor was she some lonely spinster, well not yet anyway. "I have a house full of staff. "You know full well I am old enough to neither need, nor desire a companion. It is not as though I am some young debutante in need of a chaperone while I navigate the marriage mart."
"Are you so sure?" he asked. "You and I are fools if we think our friendship has gone unnoticed by that of the ton. I have perhaps been too lenient in my casual attitude towards spending my free time in your company. I have perhaps been selfish, taking advantage of our familiarity. Anne, I would hate to slight your good name and reputation. I feel my being here, with only you and I present, well..." He was unsure how to express himself, growing impatient he spoke with force. "You must realise from the outside appearance of it, that my presence in your company would be fuel enough for others to assume you and I had a prior commitment."
Slightly taken aback by his forcefulness, Anne thought back to Mrs Avery's warning. So, the gossip had also reached Edward ears? Poor Edward, he owed her nothing, obviously such ridiculous notions had got him all worried. Anne was not worried about gossip in the slightest. If anything, the more time she spent in London society, the less need she felt to be amongst it. She could almost understand her mother's reluctance to visit town. It was the freedom of being on her own and master of her own actions which Anne enjoyed most. There were few people Anne had met whom she truly liked. There was no one she cared for more, or held as true a friend as Edward. She was not about to let silly gossip from people she could not fully respect get in the way of that. Was the thought of being linked to her so awful, that he could not even see the joke within the ridiculous?
"Whatever has gotten into you," she asked feeling slightly wounded. "I can understand your concern, but we both know there is nothing improper here. There are no expectations; it is you and I for heaven's sake." Growing rather annoyed, she placed her hands on her hips and continued. "Where has all this ridiculous come from. Do you not enjoy our time together? If not, please do not feel obliged to spend your free evenings in my company. I assure you I am more than happy in my own company. I do not desire to be out in society every evening, I am more than content staying at home."
"Oh of course not," Edward replied rather sharply, why was she being so infuriating. "You know full well I enjoy being in your company immensely. Do not think for a moment I do it out of some saintly duty, as to not leave you on your own. "Anne," he spoke her name softly as his eyes met hers. "I in no way feel obligated to be in your company, if anything it is quite the opposite, I looked forward to it. My evenings with you are more amusing than any entertainment London can provide."
"Well, good, she replied, taking her hands from her hips signalling that their disagreement had come to an end. "So, it is settled, we shall have no more of this foolishness. Now do you wish to do the honours and open the door? For I believe although you bring out my courage, I fear I am not quite brave enough to do it on my own."
He laughed and took the key from her outstretched hand. "In the name of curiosity, I believe I must." The two walked to the end of the corridor and just as he placed the key in the lock Anne said;
"Edward you and I are so similar, you are perhaps the one person with whom I wish to never quarrel."
"My dear, he said flashing her a smile, "that was in no way a quarrel, call it a mere lovers tiff."
She smiled back; thankful he had returned once more to his good-humoured self. "I cannot tell you how much I enjoy our easy conversation and your companionship. You being in London has only elevated my enjoyment in all things. You are as dear to me as though a brother."
He turned the key and stopped dead. "You think of me as a brother?" Edward asked. He tried to hide the hurt in his voice. She thought of him like a brother?
"Well you know what I mean. Of course, I have no siblings anyway in which to compare. Is everything in order? Is it not the correct key?"
"No, the key is fine," he replied his pride still irked at her suggestion of mere brotherly affection. At least it means she cares for you, he tried to console himself; if not quite in the manner in which you desire. He pushed down on the handle and pushed the door open ajar. "After you, Miss de Bourgh."
Lifting a candlestick from a nearby table in the hall, Anne touched the wick against the flame from the candle Edward had brought with him from downstairs. She felt nervous. Indeed, it was silly, the house did in fact belong to her. It was not as though her mother was deserving of such attentions as to keep her rooms just as she had left them. She was not mistress of this house. If her father had desired for her mother to retain ownership surely he would have prepared his will in order to do so. Instead he had left everything to his only daughter.
"Do not be nervous," Edward prompted her as though attune to her inner feelings. "The house is yours, and we only intend to see what is beyond the painted veil."
"You are quite right," Anne nodded as she pushed the door wide. "We shall not disturb anything this evening anyway, no harm shall be done in merely looking."
The room was dark and musky. The drapes were closed, not even a hint of light penetrated the room from the oil lamps upon the Square outside. Stepping into the room, Anne felt the air heavy about her person. She did not like it. Instantly she reached behind her and took hold of Edwards sleeve. He came and stood close beside her, holding his candle forward so the light from his flame added to the brightness cast from her own. Anne peered through the dark blur before her. This could not be right.
The room was cramped with items; large pieces of what looked like teak furniture, books lay everywhere and several large leather chairs lay dogeared about the room. Everything about it was masculine, there was not one hint of her mother's usual elaborate style.
"Stay where you are Anne, I think I can see some candles, let me light them." Anne remained where she stood in the doorway as Edward moved into the room. A moment later pockets of light appeared one by one, illuminating the room in a dim eeriness.
Edward returned to Anne's side; he placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Are you quite certain this is your mother's room?"
"Yes, I am quite certain, but it cannot be." Anne's eyes were fixed upon the opposite wall, at a large painting which hung above the head of the bed. The painting was massive, far too large for the wall in which it was currently positioned.
Anne stood, quite fixated upon the painting, leaving Edward to glance about the rest of the room at leisure. The place was quite simply a mess, almost squalid. The dust was thick and the décor dated. From all he had heard of Lady Catherine de Bourgh the scene before him did not match the description of the Lady. Old items of clothing were scattered haphazardly around the room. Piles of books and paper covered every available surface. Paintings in chipped gild frames were lined up at the base of walls, stacked painting upon painting. Every personal item within the room pointed to a male occupant, not that of a Lady.
"Anne, are we perhaps in what was once your fathers' room?" Edward asked as his eyes fell upon a vanity equipped with shaving items including several old bottles he assumed contained the necessary powders and lotions to complete the task.
"It would appear so, yet I am certain this is the room my mother uses each time she resides at Grosvenor Square; and she has been here on many occasions since my father's death."
"How long has it been since your fathers passing?" Edward asked, now looking upon the painting which seemed to have bewitched his companion.
"I had not long turned twelve," Anne said softly. "He and my mother were here in Town for the season. I had not seen him since the April. I was left with my governess. He died in the late July; it was rather sudden. My mother simply returned to Rosings Park alone and carried on as though the event had never happened. All the portraits, all his books, everything just disappeared. I was never brave enough to question my mother as to where they all went. I never dreamed everything would be here in London."
Edward looked closer at the painting. The style of dress was dated, though no more than perhaps thirty years prior. A woman, with a square jaw and brilliant blue eyes sat in a gown of cornflower blue and ivory. A large, wide brimmed hat upon her head sprouted white feathers as her blonde hair cascaded in loose curls down her shoulder. To her left stood a gentleman dressed in dark blue with a yellow waistcoat, his chestnut hair matching his neat moustache. Both stood in the dappled shade of what looked like a pretty pavilion by a lake. A large flowering honeysuckle took up much of the righthand side, its blooms in full force as they weaved their way skywards.
"It is a beautiful portrait," said Edward admiringly, "do you know the subjects?"
"The lady is my mother," Anne replied. She was still fixated on the painting. It had been years since she had seen a large-scale portrait of her father. There had been several in the Gallery and upon the staircases at Rosings Park. However, this painting, she could not recall having ever seen. What Anne could not stop starring at was her mother. As hard as Anne tried, she could not remember her mother ever looking young. Here she was in the full bloom of her youth. She looked beautiful, but above all she looked happy. The young couple looked perfect in their union, as though designed for one another.
"I have never seen this painting before in my life. My father proposed to my mother at the pavilion underneath the honeysuckle by the lake upon his grounds at Rosings. I never dreamed the moment would then have been captured by an artist's hand."
"You have the look of your mother," Edward said softly, "though very much your fathers colouring."
"I have never thought myself anything like my mother, but for the first time, I do believe that I do. Edward everything in here is my fathers, it's like some sort of storage room from his past. Why would my mother keep all these things, and in such a state? This room cannot have been cleaned in forever. The old couple who were caretaker here during my mother's absence from town, before I took ownership, assured me they looked after all the rooms."
"Perhaps not even they were admitted entry to such an inner sanctum," Edward replied solemnly.
"A sanctuary," Anne almost laughed looking at the piles of tattered items around them. "Who on earth would find solace in such a mess."
"Perhaps a woman grieving the loss of her husband," Edward replied. "I would hazard a guess everything in this room has either been here since the death of your father, or was brought shortly after. I wouldn't be surprised if your mother continues to use this room in order to grieve."
"You do not know my mother," scoffed Anne. "I often wondered if she even cared for my father at all. His name was never mentioned. All traces of his existence merely eradicated from the house which was his home. And yet..." Anne stopped and looked upon the old leather reading chairs. They were exceedingly similar to the masculine leather chairs which seemed so out of place within her mother's bedroom when she stormed into her chambers.
"People love and grieve in many ways. I would be surprised if your mother had decided to hold onto such items if not for sentimental reasoning. Love is a complicated creature which can make fools of the best of us. Perhaps she was unable to speak of such a loss. We should take our leave. Perhaps once the door is locked, it should be left as such."
"Yes, perhaps you are correct," replied Anne, her mind trying to think of a time when her mother had shown her father, or indeed anyone affection. "I shall return the key to its home within the writing desk."
They left the room in silence. What had started as a curious escapade, had resulted in a rather sombre affair. Upon reaching the parlour, Anne returned the key to its home within the hidden drawer. She had no intention of returning, however, she had every intention of leaving word for Mrs Marks to enter in order to retrieve the painting of her mother and father. What harm could it do? It was not as though her mother was likely to arrive in London. Why should such a happy memory from her parent's past be left alone to fester in the dark? She had every intention of hanging the painting in her private rooms in order for her to study at her leisure.
Anne sat down on the cerise settee, but was surprised when Edward stood, as though ready to take his leave.
"You are not going? Anne asked.
"I am afraid I must. You know full well I leave for Epsom Spa tomorrow evening. I have much to attend to the morrow and I really should be leaving, it is quite late."
"Oh, of course, the Epsom Derby," said Anne, "but it is on Tuesday? Tomorrow is only Friday."
"Yes, but I like to be there a few days before, scope out the competition and allow Aella time to settle. I shall not likely be back until the following Friday." He watched as her mouth fell into a soft pout; he hoped that this was indication she would miss his company. "You know full well you are more than welcome to join me in attendance. Lady Beatrice will be one of the party, I am sure she would be thrilled to have your company."
"I am afraid Mrs Drummond Burrell is counting on me to grace her table at a luncheon on Monday as part of the Mayweather fundraising efforts. You have already commandeered one of her ladies from her table, to allow a second would be scandalous."
"Well if you insist, I shall see you upon my return. If I am feeling generous, I shall even allow you to keep the trophy upon your mantel when Aella takes first prize."
"I shall hold you to that Lord Colville, and it had better be gleaming and gold" Anne laughed as she stood, ready to escort Edward to the door. As they entered the foyer he went to head to the back of the house.
"Oh, Edward must you be to foolish? Why do you insist leaving through the kitchen exit when I am more than happy for you to simply leave through the front door?"
"Foolish or not, Anne. I shall continue to leave by the back entrance. I shall simply slink into the night like some devilish bandit."
"You are a fool," she laughed, holding her hand out for him to shake.
"Perhaps," he said with a smile, placing a kiss upon the back of her gloved hand instead, "but I am your fool." Moments later he was gone, heading into the warmth of the June evening.