Thief of Hearts (31 page)

"Did you tell her not to come back?"

"I... Certainly not." She laid her sewing aside and sat up straighter, offended. "But we need to have a talk about Mrs. Pollinax." Brodie made a move to rise from the chair he'd taken opposite her. "No, Nicholas, I want you to stay. I'm sure you'll be interested in this." She favored him with a small smile, as if she knew he would be her ally. "Today I heard some unpleasant news about your friend, Anna, I regret very much to say. I pray it's only a rumor; but until the true facts are ascertained, I'm terribly afraid the acquaintance must lapse."

"Lapse," repeated Anna.

"Yes. This will upset you, my dear. I've heard that Mrs. Pollinax has left her husband and taken up residence in a cheap fiat in Lord Street. It's even said that she means to divorce him. When I confronted her with this news, she did not deny it."

"I know about it. She told me herself."

Aunt Charlotte gaped. "You! Why didn't you tell me? If I'd known, I would never have invited her to your welcoming party!"

"Why? What has she done? What social crime has she committed except to leave a cold and uncaring man whom she doesn't love?"

Her aunt heaved herself up from her chair. "Are you being deliberately obtuse? Can you possibly be unaware of the sort of scandal this will cause?"

"Not unaware, indifferent. Milly Pollinax has been my closest friend for years. How can you expect me to let our acquaintance 'lapse' at the very time she needs me most?"

"But you must! Think, Anna. What if there's a court case, a public trial? To be associated with the woman in those circumstances—"

"What if the man she married is beastly to her? Must she stay with him all her life because to leave him would cause a scandal?"

"Yes!"

"No! It's absurd!"

"It's not absurd, and you are naive. Society is governed by rules, like it or not. Your friend is about to break one of the cardinal ones, and you'll be sullied along with her unless you distance yourself from her immediately."

Anna drew herself up very straight. Never in her life had she defied her aunt. Her hands twisted nervously at her waist, but her voice was steady. "I refuse," she said carefully, "to 'distance' myself from my friend because she's in trouble. I'm sorry if it upsets you, Aunt Charlotte, but Milly is as welcome in this house as she's ever been. I intend to invite her to tea tomorrow, and I hope you'll join us. But if you won't, then I must insist that at least you treat her with courtesy and respect while she's here."

"You? You must insist?" The older woman's face had turned blotchy with anger. "Because this is your and Nicholas's home, and my family and I are only guests?"

It was the second time she'd said that. She meant it as a dare, Anna knew, a manipulative trick to get her way. Breathless with her own daring, she decided to call her bluff. "Exactly." But then her nerve failed. "You know this is your home," she said in a rush, "and you and Jenny and Stephen will be welcome here forever. But... but I'm a married woman now, Aunt, and I must make my own decisions. In… consultation with my husband, of course." She risked a glance at Brodie; his face was a study, she couldn't decipher it.

"Surely you don't condone this, Nicholas," Aunt Charlotte said, facing him abruptly. "You of all people should understand the importance of social appearances."

"And what do you mean by that?" Anna moved closer, her voice rising.

Aunt Charlotte held her ground. "Only that Nicholas is a Jourdaine now, in spirit if not in name, and the value of appearances is often clearer to one who has risen out of one class into another."

Anna was shocked into speechlessness. Almost. "That's an
insufferable
" she got out before Brodie stood up from his chair and went to her.

"I have married above me," he agreed mildly. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve your niece, Mrs. Meredith." He slipped an arm around Anna's waist and brought her close. "One of the things I particularly love about her is her loyalty. Milly can count herself lucky to have such a friend as Anna. And she can come here whenever she likes. She'll probably say no, but if she wants to she can live here. God knows there's enough room." He gave Anna a soft kiss on the temple. "Annie, I'm tired. Let's" He stopped, and smiled into her wide, serious eyes. "Let's retire," he said softly. "Good night," he called over his shoulder to a silent Aunt Charlotte as he guided Anna out into the hall and toward the stairs.

En route they passed Jenny, as speechless as her mother. Anna had time to wonder how long she'd been standing there. She and Brodie climbed the staircase together, and at the landing she glanced back down into the dim foyer. Jenny was still there, staring after them. Wearing the oddest expression.

The horses pulling the hired hackney up the hill to Rosewood were straining by the time they reached the summit. The vehicle stopped, and Anna began to gather together purse, gloves, umbrella, and shawl. "Come inside and have something to eat," she said to Milly, who sat beside her. "You can go home with Reese later, in our carriage." It still rankled a bit that Aunt Charlotte disapproved of her destination so much that she'd all but forbidden the use of the Jourdaine family carriage and Anna had had to hire this one. But she supposed she'd grumbled about it enough today, and vowed to put it out of her mind. She looked across at Milly, who hadn't moved. "Aren't you coming?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm a little tired, I think I'll just go home."

Anna sat back against the moldy-smelling cushion and turned a sober gaze on her friend. "But I'd like you to come in," she said quietly.

Milly smiled. "I don't believe I will."

"Why?"

"I told you, I'm—"

"A little tired. Then you can rest in my room. I'll have some tea sent up. You can stay for dinner."

"And then spend the night?"

"Yes, if you like."

Still smiling, Milly turned her head to look out the carriage window. "This is such a pretty street," she said absently.

Distracted for a moment, Anna asked, "Do you think Rosewood looks like a public library?" Milly laughed, then narrowed thoughtful eyes at the enormous house of red brick and granite. When she didn't respond immediately, Anna had her answer. "It does, doesn't it?"

"A little, maybe. Now that you mention it."

Anna shook her head, dismayed but resigned to it. Then she returned to the former topic. "Well? Are you going to come inside and visit with me or not?"

Milly smiled gently. "I thank you for the invitation. And for your kindness and friendship."

"But?"

"But I must regretfully decline the offer." Anna made an impatient sound, Milly reached for her hand and held it. "Please don't be angry with me. Try to understand. I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not angry, I'm—"

"Hurt, then. I'm sorry."

"Milly," she cried, exasperated, "you're protecting me from something I don't want to be protected from, something I don't care about any longer."

"Then you ought to." She looked down. "I know, I sound like your aunt."

"Yes, you do."

"She's not wrong, you know."

"She
is
wrong."

Milly sighed, and pulled her hand away. "Let's not quarrel. Let me go home, Anna. I'll pay the coachman the extra shilling to take me to Lord Street." She started to fumble in her reticule, but stopped when she saw Anna's face. Flushing a little, she slid the money back into her change purse.

"Thank you," said Anna, stiffly. There was an uncomfortable silence. Then both women reached out to each other in a spontaneous embrace. "Oh, Milly," Anna said past the lump in her throat. "When you want to talk, do you know that all you have to do is tell me?" They were both blinking away tears, and patting each other's shoulders briskly.

"Yes, I know it."

"I just wish I could help you."

"I know."

They kissed. Anna gathered up her things again and got out of the hackney. She had a word with the driver, paid him, and waved her friend out of sight with a watery smile. Then she turned and went into her house.

"Anna?" came Aunt Charlotte's voice almost before she could close the door.

"Yes, I'm home."

"Come in here, please." The voice came from the dining room. It sounded no more peevish than usual, so Anna took her time unpinning her hat and hanging her shawl in the hall closet.

She found her aunt supervising the table setting for the dinner party she would give tonight. She looked up from inspecting the polish on a silver serving fork to ask, "How were things at Maghull?" She made the word sound like "hell" or "darkest Africa" which to her aunt, Anna reflected, were probably very much the same thing.

"Fine." Then, feeling perverse, she decided to elaborate. "We can make three hundred gallons of soup a day now, and we sell it for a penny-ticket per quart. Today it was beef with potatoes and kale." Aunt Charlotte's look of refined horror was very satisfying. Anna kept it to herself that she'd bought a thousand tickets today, and next week she would buy a thousand more; one of the relief societies she worked for would distribute them to the unemployed and destitute.

"I cannot understand you. You were not brought up this way."

"Let's not argue about it again, shall we? Tell me, where did you think of seating the Webbers? He's such a Tory, I don't think we should put him anywhere near Mrs. Butte-Smith, do you?"

She didn't listen to the answer, but sighed again over her aunt's bitter disapproval of her puny efforts to help the textile workers. For Aunt Charlotte and her friends, sympathy for the less fortunate was commendable only so long as it was confined to parlor charity. Actual personal contact with the poor was taboo, a social solecism arising either out of naiveté or hopeless ungentility. That she was engaged in these unsuitable activities with Milly Pollinax, the centerpiece in the unfolding social scandal of the summer, was for Aunt Charlotte the last straw, and for weeks she and Anna had been speaking to each other as little as possible.

A noise from behind the closed conservatory doors drew her attention; it sounded like her father laughing. She sent her aunt a questioning glance. "He's there with Nicholas," she said shortly.

Anna put down the napkin she was folding. "Do you need me here right now? I'd like to say hello to Father."

"Go on, then."

"I'll come back in a few minutes to help you."

"Don't bother; Jenny can help me."

She expelled a silent sigh. "All right. Jenny's better at this sort of thing than I am anyway."

"Much."

They stared at each other, expressionless. Anna went toward the conservatory without another word.

Moisture had condensed on the glass; she couldn't see through it. She pushed open one of the doors and moved silently inside. They were behind a tangle of schefflera in the west corner of the greenhouse. The sinking sun sent long shadows through the brass-framed windows; the air was moist and pungent with the pleasantly bitter smell of wet earth. Anna went closer to the sound of Brodie's voice, drawn by the amiable intimacy of it. He was reading aloud. Their backs were to her, her father in his wheeled chair, Brodie on one of the wooden benches. They hadn't heard her come in yet, and she didn't speak. While she watched, her father's plaid lap robe slipped from his knees. Brodie saw, and got up to spread it over them again, tucking the flannel in at the sides with gentle hands. Absentmindedly, Thomas passed his palm over the top of Brodie's bent head. The two men smiled at each other. Then Brodie sat down and resumed reading.