The Beautiful One (23 page)

Lizzie's face fell, but she gathered herself quickly and put on a sincere smile that pained Anna more than any fit of tears might have done. She was so proud of her.

“I understand,” Lizzie said. “Really I do. But…” She gave Anna a long look. “I've seen the way Grandville looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. I'm almost certain he's smitten with you. Wouldn't it be wonderful if you and he…”

Anna shook her head. “No. Some things are better not spoken or even imagined.”

“But if he cares for you, and you care for him,” Lizzie said impatiently, “that's all that matters. I know it would be unusual, but it's not impossible.”

How Anna wished that were true. “Dearest, I can see you've been dreaming on my behalf, but you mustn't. I'm a practical woman, and I know where my future leads.”

“We all need to dream
sometimes
.” Lizzie gave a sigh. “But I won't think about your leaving now because we still have almost two weeks left of your time here. I shall just enjoy that and be grateful for it.”

“You are very good,” Anna said, feeling low. Her abrupt departure after the ball would hurt Lizzie, but it couldn't be helped. She cleared her throat. “Now, tell me, is there something the matter between you and Tommy? Did you have an argument of some sort?”

Lizzie flushed. “Just a little disagreement.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Oh, no. Thank you, but it's nothing.”

Anna gave her a small, encouraging smile. “Very well. Just do please remember how important civility is for a happy household.”

“I will.”

Will appeared in the doorway then, followed by Judith and Tommy. They came into the room, Tommy lingering near the door perhaps to avoid Lizzie, and looked at the painting.

“Goodness,” Judith exclaimed. “It's glorious!”

“Yes,” Tommy agreed. “I didn't know you were an artist, Anna.”

She wasn't used to having her work praised so openly—her father had been the only person to see it with any regularity, and he'd never been one for compliments—and she suddenly felt shy.

“
I
knew,” Will said, crossing his arms and looking pleased with himself. “Her drawings have appeared in two books of natural history. I have them in the library, as it happens.
A
Study
of
Owls
and
Anatomy
of
a
Songbird
.”

Judith blinked. “Why, Anna, your work is in books? You never said. I should love to see them.”

A grin teased the corner of Will's mouth as he looked into Anna's eyes, but his words were serious.

“Stillwell's library is always open to the acquisition of significant works, of which those two books must number, both for their exquisite drawings and their remarkable scholarship. I count myself lucky to have Anna's work on the walls here.”

Her heart swelled with gratitude, pride, affection, sorrow, and too many other feelings to acknowledge. She'd never been such an emotional wreck until she met him, and everything would be so much easier if he weren't being so good to her.

“You're exaggerating terribly. Much of the work was already done.”

“No, it wasn't,” said Lizzie. “A partial sketch was there, and a few dabs of paint, but you brought it to life.”

“There, you see?” he said, his eyes holding a secret meaning for Anna that spoke of all they'd shared. She realized how much, at Stillwell, she'd felt herself to be known, and needed, and part of something important. She sent up a fairy-tale wish that she wouldn't have to leave, that some magical means would make Stillwell her home, just as it was now to be home for Lizzie.

She thought of the note in her pocket and what must be done that night, and the hopeful glow of the fairy-tale wish disappeared like the vanished shimmer of a popped bubble.

The shadows were growing long when Anna put down the book she'd been reading on her bed later that afternoon. She'd seen Lizzie go out to the shade of the garden an hour earlier with her own book and, feeling restless, she decided to see if Lizzie wanted to take a walk.

She approached the stairs distractedly only to find that Will and Judith were already standing on the steps talking. Their conversation was low but intent, and as she drew nearer the top of the stairs, they didn't notice her in the shadows cast by the balustrade. Will was speaking, and she caught a few of his words.

“…not a good idea for Lizzie to stay with you.”

Anna reached the top of the stairs at this categorical statement, which made her lips press together. Judith, facing upward, saw her and looked away, but not before Anna saw the disappointment in her soft hazel eyes.

That did it. Anna moved down the steps briskly, and Will turned at the sound of her steps, a conflicted expression on his face.

“What on earth could be the harm, my lord, in Lizzie going to visit Judith?” she demanded. “You know very well this has nothing to do with concern for Lizzie. Why must you penalize Judith?”

“No, Anna,” Judith said quickly, “he's not being cruel. It's best if I'm not close to the family. There's been too much water under the bridge.”

Judith turned to go. Will looked strangely pained.

“Wait,” he said.

Judith stilled.

“I'm done caring about the past,” he said, “and all the things that caused trouble between us.”

At these surprising words, Judith searched his face with a look of dawning hope. Whatever she was going to say, though, was arrested by sounds from the foot of the stairs. None of them had noticed the arrival of Tommy.

“What trouble?”

Will's eyes darted from his brother to Judith. “Nothing to concern you—” he began, but Tommy was already mounting the steps with a darkening brow.

“Yes it is, obviously.” He stopped on the step below Judith and crossed his arms, and Anna recognized the stubborn set of his Halifax jaw. “I'll wager this has something to do with why you've never liked Judith, and I demand to know what it is.”

Judith looked at Will, her eyes saying that she would leave the decision to him.

“It's merely some ancient history,” he said, “that I assure you is better off left where it lies.”

“I don't believe that for a minute.”

“Tommy,” Judith said quietly, “this isn't necessary. Not now.”

But Tommy's handsome features were set. He turned to his brother. “Out with it.”

Will inhaled deeply.

“No,” Judith said, “I'll tell him.”

She faced Tommy. “You were young when I married your father, too young to know something that he and I had managed to keep secret from everyone but your brother. You see, when your mother was dying, I became your father's mistress.”

Tommy just stared at her. “
Father
had a mistress?
You
were his mistress?”

“Yes. I'm not proud that I took up with a married man, and one whose wife was dying. It was wrong. But he was so sad and lonely, and I had so admired him from afar.”

Tommy's eyes had gone hard. “I can't believe this. Father and Mother were so happy together. Their marriage was everything a marriage should be!” he said vehemently.

“But they were human too,” Will said quietly.

At this confirmation from his brother, Tommy's mouth twisted bitterly. “All this time I thought they had a great love story. Apparently, I was a fool.”

Will put his hand on his brother's shoulder. “No, Tommy, don't. They did love each other, deeply. I saw it every day. Father was simply crushed by his care for her. He was vulnerable, and he made a mistake. They loved us, and they loved each other. Let's not let anything take away from that. We're all very capable of making mistakes.”

Judith turned to Tommy, her soft mouth clearly at war between joy over Will's forgiveness and heartache over Tommy's bleakness. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “I know this is a shock.”

But Tommy's only reply was to turn on his heel and leave.

Judith's face fell. Will made as if to follow Tommy, but Anna said, “Wait. Perhaps he needs some time alone.”

* * *

Lizzie was sitting in the grass at the foot of the Diana statue reviewing irregular French verb forms when she heard the sound of vigorous footfalls coming her way. She looked up and there was Tommy, striding unseeingly forward as if he didn't care where he was going. Probably trying not to notice her.

“You needn't pretend you don't see me,” she called out as he strode past her without acknowledging her presence on the ground, “just so we won't have to have conversation. Surely we can be civil.”

He looked startled, as if he'd been so consumed with his thoughts that he truly hadn't noticed her. And maybe that was possible, she thought, because there was a very troubled look in his eyes. She stood up.

“What's happened?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said dully, all vestige of the grinning, cocky young man she knew gone. “Please excuse me for not noticing you. It was not intentional.” He turned to go, but his bleak look tugged at her heart.

“Wait,” she said, reaching for his arm. Beneath her fingers, his muscles were hard with tension. “Something's happened.”

When he shook his head, she persisted. “Look, I spilled my scandal to you in the boat, how I snuck out and met a man in the middle of the night.”

She gave a small, rueful smile. “I so wanted Stillwell to be my home that I contrived to be found with a man and thrown out of school. I didn't even like him! Although”—she laughed, hoping to crack Tommy's despair—“his presence did seal my fate at Rosewood quite effectively.”

She looked into his face, hoping he would look triumphant or at least annoyed with her—anything to move him past the troubled place where he was now. But she saw nothing. And then, looking into the distance, he spoke.

“I've just been told the secret that's been between my brother and Judith. No one, apparently, saw fit all these years to tell me that Judith was my father's mistress before they married. I thought my parents had a love for the ages. And now I find it was all lies.”

He pressed his lips together angrily. “I'm damned furious with my father! And with my brother too, for keeping this from me as though I were a child.”

“Ah,” she said quietly. “Very well, you win. That is quite startling.” She tugged his arm to make him sit down, and distracted as he was, he didn't resist. They sat side by side in the grass against the base of the Diana statue.

“Why are they talking about it now?”

“Apparently my brother has decided to forgive her.”

“I see. And do you think you might forgive her too?” she asked, knowing she was being horribly nosy, but she'd learned a thing or two about getting difficult topics out in the open.

“No! Yes! I don't know, damn it all.” He let his head fall back against Diana's stone leg. “I don't know what to think, but I'm furious at having this information kept from me all this time.”

“Well, it's not as though it would have benefitted you to know it. Look what it did to Grandville. He's been so mean to Judith. Are you sorry you haven't been mean to her all this time too? And rejected the nice things she did for you when you were young?”

He crossed his arms and growled a bit. “All right. I can hardly regret not being poisoned by anger for years. But what about my father—how can I respect him?”

“You loved him, didn't you?”

“Yes. But I thought he was the ideal of a man, and that their marriage was what we all ought to aspire to.”

“Well, maybe it still is.”

“How could that be? He was unfaithful to my mother when she was dying!”

“Well…maybe part of him was dying too. Maybe it felt like his world was turning upside down and he didn't know what was good or bad anymore.”

Tommy gave her a skeptical look. “I think we can ask fidelity of those we love. And that was something I thought I learned from my parents.”

“I'm not saying that what he and Judith did wasn't wrong. But…should the wrong things we do erase the good things?”

He didn't say anything but crossed his arms and leaned forward to rest his chin on his bent knees. He stared into the distance for some time. Finally he grumbled, “Very well.”

“Very well what?”

“I guess I can decide this is ancient history. She's obviously sorry about it, and it's over and done. I suppose…I can choose to let it go.”

She reached out impulsively and draped her arm across his back and gave him a squeeze. “I think that sounds like a good idea.”

He shot her a sideways glance. “How did you get to be so wise, Lizzie Tarryton? It seems like only yesterday you were giving me lists of every dress pattern currently in fashion.”

She gave him a little push. “A backhanded compliment if ever there was one.”

His expression turned serious. “You might have let me go on my way, especially considering we were not exactly on friendly terms. So thank you.”

She could feel herself blushing. “You're welcome.”

He chuckled. “I'm afraid you've made me more frustrated and furious than any young lady I've ever met.”

“That's not very flattering either.”

He reached a finger under her chin and tipped it upward. “Actually, I'm afraid it's a sign that you do something to me, sweet girl.”

She felt her lips curling up in a saucy grin.

When Lizzie and Tommy arrived back at the manor shortly thereafter, they found Will and Judith and Anna all standing about in the library looking grim. Tommy went up to Judith right away and embraced her, and that seemed to break all the remaining tension, because everyone started talking at once, a boisterous babble that put to rest any lingering worries about how the past might affect the future.

* * *

Anna didn't have any trouble staying awake that night because she felt too bestirred to sleep. A little before midnight, she made her way downstairs by the light of a single candle. The door to the wine cellar was slightly ajar, and she opened it.

The underground room was aglow. As she descended the stairs, she saw that Will had lit scores of candles and placed them all about, some in sconces on the walls and some wedged among wine bottles lying in racks. He had turned what should have felt like a dungeon into an enchanted place of flickering light and welcome.

She drew close to where he stood quietly waiting next to a small group of barrels and a stand on which rested two partially filled glasses. There were two wooden chairs behind him.

“Welcome to the cellar,” he said. “It's not the most hospitable place, but”—he waggled his eyebrows—“sometimes interesting things happen in such situations.” He held out a glass to her. “Sherry?”

“No, thank you.” She felt wretched. He'd put such thought into their meeting.

“No? Perhaps later.” He put the glass down and stepped closer to put his arms around her. “I was thinking,” he said, “of getting up a party to go strawberry picking a day or two after the ball. Perhaps some of the neighbors would come. Do you think Lizzie would join us? Or will she think it's too frivolous? I know Judith is fond of strawberries.”

A deep pang pierced her. This time at Stillwell had been so magical, but like all magic, it would not stand the light of day, and it could not last.

“I think she'd love that,” she said, letting her ear rest against his chest so she could imprint the solid thud of his heartbeat on her memory, because this must be their last time together.

“I hope you'll like it as well,” he said, leaning away a bit and looking down at her with a crooked smile. “You've inspired me to see so many things I've been overlooking.”

“Will,” she said quietly, “I must go.”

“Go?” He chuckled. “What else could be requiring your attention at midnight?”

She stepped backward, out of the circle of his arms. “I have to leave Stillwell. I mean to leave the day after the ball.”

He stared at her, the candlelight flickering in his dark eyes, and she didn't allow herself to open to what was in them but pressed on. “I have to go, and I must ask you for half the money we'd agreed on as my salary. I have been here half the time.”

It made her ill to speak of money with him now, when she'd grown so close to him. But she had to leave and make some kind of life for herself.

At the edges of her resolution, desperation cried out. If only he loved her, she could tell him her troubles. He would understand.

She forced down the yearning.

He
doesn't love you.

And how could she even think to let her scandal touch him, and Lizzie and Tommy and Judith? That was the last thing she wanted.

He crossed his arms, his jaw hardening in that angular way that made him look as if no one would ever win a point he didn't wish to concede. “How can you ask that now? How can you think of leaving? And what about Lizzie?”

“Lizzie will be fine now. She has you and Judith and Tommy—a whole family. It's time I was on my way.”

“Damn it, Anna, why are you doing this? Why now? You're a penniless woman entirely on her own, except for this aunt in the north. Why not stay here where you are very much wanted? Where you'll have all you need?”

“Because I don't have all I need!” she burst out. “I can't go on like this. Meeting you secretly. Living here and seeing you daily.”

“Then marry me!”

“I can't.”

“But we're good together, and I want to take care of you.”

Exactly what she didn't want to hear. He was so good at taking of care of things and people, and she couldn't bear to be another thing on that list.