The Beautiful One (27 page)
Authors: Emily Greenwood
And then Anna was in his arms and all was right in the world.
The grand celebration of the marriage of Viscount Grandville to Miss Anna Black Bristol was held on an afternoon in late June, two weeks after their wedding ceremony.
It was a joint party meant also to celebrate the completion of the estate's new tenants' cottages. A profusion of hollyhocks and pansies had been planted under the windows of all the homes, and the whitewashed shutters and doors were open to let in the gentle, warm breezes. Just in front of the entrance to the hamlet, a small child chased a dog around a handsome iron pole from which hung a wooden sign carved with the words “Willow Glen Hamlet.”
The whole neighborhood had come for the festivities. Long tables piled with food and drinks had been set up next to an old apple tree, games had been organized, and a wooden platform had been erected for dancing, with a small band arranged nearby.
The dozen families who were to move into the homes were happily occupied in giving enthusiastic tours to all the guests. Lord Grandville had promised that construction would soon start on the next hamlet of cottages, so that all his tenants would eventually have new homes.
Anna, with the help of Lizzie, was engaged in forming lines of children for a sack race, and a cheerful crowd of parents and neighbors stood around talking and waiting to watch the hoppers. Across the meadow, Anna's new husband was standing in front of one of the cottages gesticulating to Mr. Pilchard, the local vicar, in a way that suggested he was discussing roof construction.
Will felt his wife's eyes on him and looked her way, and the two shared a knowing smile that told so much the other wanted to know.
“Anna,” Lizzie said, recalling her attention to the matter at hand, “I really think we must start or the lines will collapse.” Already the small hands of three-year-old Maggie Lennox had begun tugging imploringly at Anna's skirts. Laughing, Anna turned her attention to the row of young racers.
“All right, then. On your mark, get set, go!”
The children took off amid cheers and clapping from the spectators. Lizzie laughed as little Maggie, with barely more than her head showing above the top of her sack, fell over on the course and began rolling around, laughing and creating an obstacle for the other racers. At the other end, a beaming Judith stood ready to welcome the winner.
The musicians began to warm up near the dancing platform, and hardly had the opening notes of a dance sounded when Tommy appeared at Lizzie's side. He'd come from the archery butts, where he'd won the prize of a book of verse, which he now presented to Lizzie with an elegant bow.
“Well, Lizzie,” he said as he straightened, “I have only two days left before I must go to do my brother's bidding at Longmount. As you and Judith are going to Town next week and I won't see you for a while, I mean to get in some dances while I can. And you must promise not to be snapped up by some London fellow.”
Anna and Will had decided that Lizzie should have a London holiday, but that she wasn't quite ready to have her come-out that year.
Lizzie laughed and tossed her head and took his arm. “I promise nothing, Tommy Halifax.”
Anna began to make her way toward the lemonade table, but she was intercepted by her husband, who draped a proprietary arm around her waist and drew her to him. He smiled down at her, and she looked up at him, and felt so very grateful and amazed at all that life had brought her.
“Do you think, Lady Grandville,” he said with a mischievous look as he glanced around at their guests, “that Miranda Chittister will be able to tolerate talking to the baker's wife for much longer?”
They looked together across the meadow where, among the other merrymakers, the baker's wife stood speaking animatedly to Miss Chittister, about whom hung a long-suffering air.
“It's good for her,” Anna said.
“Mr. Pilchard is very much in support of our plan to build a village school.”
“Wonderful.” She smiled at him, feeling silly with happiness. “The cottages are beautiful, and the families are so very pleased. I can't wait for work to begin on the next batch, and the school.”
Their eyes were drawn, though only briefly, to the top of the pretty hillock where, a week before, Anna had kindled a little fire that consumed
The
Beautiful
One
most satisfactorily. The ashes had been carried off with the wind, along with the shadows of the past.
“You know, my sweet,” her husband said in a low, delightfully wicked voice, “there are things I cannot wait for as well.”
She knew that tone, and it made her toes curl. “Is that so? But you must study patience, my lord. We have guests.”
“Hmm,” he said, looking about them again. “Everyone seems to be happily engaged. I don't think we'd be missed if we took a walk. I want to show you something.”
“Well,” she said, pretending to consider carefully, “perhaps a short walk.”
He led her over the little hill, toward the folly. As they crested the hill, she saw that a neat wooden sign had been hung over the little tower's door.
Birdseye
Tower
had been neatly carved onto it in letters that looked identical to those on the Willow Glen sign.
“You made a sign for the tower?” she said as he pulled her closer. “Goodness, it's quite niceâreally, you're becoming accomplished. Surely you are the only viscount in England who makes such nice signs, never mind your talents at laying roof tiles.”
He chuckled at her puzzled praise. “Come inside.”
The first floor had been newly furnished with two pretty, comfortable-looking upholstered chairs. “In case you want guests,” he said cryptically, but they didn't stop as he steered her toward the circular staircase.
When her head emerged above the second floor, she gasped in wonder.
“It's for you,” he said.
“Oh,” she breathed, stepping up into the room. “I don't know what to say.”
The round, stone room had been transformed.
Beautiful pale blue-and-white patterned wallpaper now covered the walls, adding to the airy feel of the space. She hadn't been to the folly since the night they'd made love there, and now she could see that it really did have wonderful lighting. In the center of the room stood an easel, a stool, and a shelf full of paints and brushes of all sizes, plus a neat stack of canvases and another of sketchbooks. The bed was still there as well, covered in a fresh, pretty quilt, and a pitcher with cups stood on the table beside it.
“A place of my own for painting and drawing,” she said in awed tones.
“And you can welcome pupils here too, if you like. Though I hope your first little students will have the name Halifax, if we are lucky.”
She smiled, her eyes already beginning to grow moist. “I hope so too. It's wonderful, Will. I don't know how to thank you.”
“We'll think of something,” he said, and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
Then he looked into her eyes, and the love flowed back and forth between them, free and boundless. “It's you for me,” he said.
“And me for you,” she said back. “And it always will be.”
Tears of happiness pooled at the corners of her eyes.
“Oh, not again,” he said, gently wiping the wetness with his thumbs. “How can a man bear it if his wife is going to be crying with joy all the time? Is there really so much happiness that it must overflow this way?”
“Yes,” she said laughing, “there really is.”
Emily Greenwood has a degree in French and worked for a number of years as a writer, crafting newsletters and fund-raising brochures, but she far prefers writing love stories set in Regency England, and she thinks romance novels are the chocolate of literature. A Golden Heart finalist, she lives in Maryland with her husband and two daughters.
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Watch for the next in The Scandalous Sisters series by Emily Greenwood
The Scandalous One
Coming March 2016
from Sourcebooks Casablanca
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