A Spinster No More by Rose Pearson
Chapter Seventeen
Anne could hardly believe she was walking down such a grand staircase on the arm of a gentleman like Everton Cormick. Though she was the daughter of a baron, the Society her family had moved in, back in Tulilly, had not been anything like the circles that Mr. Cormick moved in, and that she had been exposed to as a lady’s companion in recent years. And now, here she was, a guest in her own right, on the arm of a man whose family were friends with royalty.
She had been to Caldor House before, of course, as Mary’s companion, but as such she had not been a real part of the company. And in London with both Mary and Caroline she had attended some of the finest homes, the most rarified events and seen the Ton as few of her position would ever get to see them. She had not been there to be noticed, though. Nobody had escorted her anywhere. Her presence had been tolerated because of her role as a companion – not because she was wanted anywhere.
Yet from the first, this man had been different. He had always done what he could to make her feel welcome, to dance with her, to take her into supper, to talk with her and be her friend. She wasn’t sure how, but she had forgotten how handsome he was, with his sandy blonde hair, and those spectacular blue eyes that looked only at you when he talked, so you felt like the only thing in the world that mattered. How could she have forgotten such things? Her feelings for him, feelings that she had believed she had put aside, flooded back, overwhelming her with their intensity.
As ever, just the feeling of his solid, warm body so close to her own, her hand resting lightly upon his arm filled her with anticipation and anxiety. Her stomach was full of butterflies and her mouth dry as she tried desperately not to give herself and her inappropriate feelings for him away. He could not ever look to a woman such as her. His family would have set their sights much higher for their first son.
Dear Henry might have been permitted to marry a merchant’s daughter, an industrialist’s daughter – but Anne had no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Cormick would wish for Everton to be matched with someone with a title, or at least a fortune. She would have neither. Her father’s baronetcy would pass to her cousin, entailed as it was upon the first male of the bloodline. And so, when Papa died, she and Mama would be retired to the tiny dower house at the end of the drive, whilst cousin William moved into the manor house – or most likely rented it out as his own estates were far grander than those he would inherit from Papa.
But such matters were not even worth thinking on. Anne banished them from her mind. She determined to enjoy her time here in Alnerton, to bask in the friendship of this kindly young man as much as she might, before she returned to her home and her quiet life in the country. The memories would be all she had to keep her warm, so she might as well make those memories as special as she could.
She smiled up at him, and he smiled back. He tucked his spare hand over hers as it lay on his arm and gave her hand a squeeze. “It is such a pleasure to see you once more,” he said softly. “I feared that I might never do so again, and I was so ashamed of how I treated you in those final days.”
“I am sure you had your reasons,” she said, though she could not think what they might have been. She did not wish to dwell on the past though. She had this one week with Mary and Lord William, with Mr. Cormick and the other guests present here for the celebrations. She intended to make it as special as she could.
“I did, and I do hope I will be able to sit with you, somewhere quiet, whilst we are here this week, to tell you of them.”
“There is no need,” Anne said gently. But there was. She needed to know.
“There is every need,” he said sincerely. “I owe you an explanation, and so much more.”
His words were cryptic, and intrigued Anne, but as they reached the vast hallway on the ground floor and he led her towards the library where the other guests were waiting for them Anne expected him to leave her side so he might greet everyone else present, yet he did not. He kept her close, and they greeted everyone together, as if they were an established couple. It was disconcerting and delightful all at once.
The gathered company here at Caldor House was select, and though many of those present held titles, that was not in any way an essential part of the criteria used to assemble the guest list. Lord William and Mary had simply invited the people they loved the most. Anne had been very touched to be amongst them. But she hadn’t expected Mr. Cormick to be here. She did not know why it hadn’t occurred to her, after all he and Lord William had been friends for a very long time.
Yet, here he was, acting as he had through most of the last Season, smiling and teasing, a twinkle in his eye. True, he had apologized for his peculiar behavior at his brother’s wedding, and insisted that he intended to explain to her why he had been so cold, so distant with her – but she did not know now, and that nagged at her. She hated that she might have done anything or said something that might have offended him. Yet now he was talking to her as he always had, as if she had imagined all of that awkwardness.
She couldn’t help it. She still loved him. She had tried to convince herself that it had been just a passing attraction, that she had simply been flattered by his attention and kindness. But with him here, beside her, her arm tucked through his, she could not deny the impact he had upon her heart. Anne felt ill at ease, yet where she belonged, her belly full of butterflies, yet she felt happier than she had done in months. She almost despised herself for being such a silly girl. Her crush would never – could never - be reciprocated.
As etiquette demanded, he had greeted his hosts first. Lord William and Lady Mary were standing by the window talking with Lady Charlotte and Captain James, Lord Wycliffe and Lady Sophie. Mr. Cormick led Anne to them, and they made polite small talk with the group of old friends and their new wives as a servant brought them both a glass of sherry. Mr. Cormick did all he could to ensure that Anne was fully included in the conversation, inviting her in with pertinent little questions and comments. As always, his manners were impeccable - and his charm only made Anne care for him more deeply.
“Your mother is here, old man,” Lord William reminded Mr. Cormick, pointing to where Mrs. Cormick was seated on a chair by the fireplace, talking with Mrs. Watts. Mr. Cormick grinned. “Then I’d best say hello,” he said a little sheepishly. He had still not let go of Anne’s arm and she had not dared to pull away, and so as he went to greet his mother, Anne went with him.
“I wondered when you would notice me,” Mrs. Cormick said as her son finally let Anne’s hand go and bent down to hug her and kiss his mother’s cheek. She patted his fondly and beamed at him. As he did so, something fell out of his pocket. Anne reached for it, picking it up just before Mr. Cormick himself could bend down to retrieve it. His eyes were full of something that almost resembled fear. But what could he possibly be carrying that might make him so afraid? Anne glanced at the object. It was a miniature portrait, framed in gold, of a young woman who bore more than a passing resemblance to Caroline. Yet somehow Anne knew it was not Caroline in the picture. She took a deep breath and looked at him, wondering if this might be part of the explanation he had intended to give to her later.
He now looked awkward, like a boy caught climbing up to the highest shelf in the kitchens to steal a biscuit from the jar. “Thank you,” he said stiffly, holding out his hand for the miniature. She handed it back to him, her eyes wide.
“That is why you were often so…” she tailed off. It wasn’t the right place to discuss the matter. But he nodded as if he knew exactly what she had been about to say.
The gong for dinner sounded, and everyone began to move into the dining room. Anne felt totally confused. Nobody else seemed to have noticed a thing, and for that she was glad. Mr. Cormick seemed quite ill at ease as it was, the last thing he needed was for anyone to make a big thing of what had been a very private and very intimate moment, only the two of them – and possibly his mother – had shared. Mr. Cormick offered his mother his arm this time, as was right, leaving Anne to enter the dining room alone. She had never felt so lonely, especially given she was amongst friends, as she followed them all into the wood-paneled dining room.
The vast oak table had been set with the finest silver table settings, with the most gorgeous floral display running down the center that Anne had ever seen. Yet it brought her no joy. She took her seat, next to Captain Watts and Mr. Durand, Lady Mary’s father. Mr. Cormick was seated by Lady Sophie and Mary on the opposite side of the table. He smiled at her a little ruefully, as if he wished he had been seated more closely to her so they might continue to talk – but Anne could not be sure if that was what he meant at all. After what had just happened, she did not know what to make of anything.
Why did he have a miniature in his pocket of a woman that could have been Caroline’s twin? Why did he seem so ashamed of it? Or was it that he was afraid of her reaction? And if that was the case, why should he be so concerned about that? They had no understanding. There was nothing more than friendship between them, at least on his part. Thoughts raced through her mind, blurring out the conversations occurring all around her, trapping her in an ever more maddening cycle of anxious fretting as to what any of it meant. It ruined what should have been a joyous evening for her.
The meal was delicious, but Anne could hardly bring herself to eat more than a few mouthfuls. She forced herself to talk politely with the two gentlemen on each side of her, though she barely heard a word of their replies. She drank only a few sips of the claret in her glass, and tapped at it nervously with her fingertips each time she did, pausing unintentionally as her concerns crowded out her mind. She was not sure why she should feel so discombobulated. After all, she and Mr. Cormick had spent many months eating at the same table, dancing together and conversing often – and in much more intimate settings than this. Yet here, surrounded by their friends, with so much unspoken between them, Anne felt totally exposed and ill at ease with him. She feared she might give herself away, that she might ruin everything.
The meal seemed to go on forever. Course after course of delicious food appeared just as Anne thought they must be nearing its end. She tapped her feet under the table, her leg twitched nervously when she did not. She tried to smile, to pay attention to what was happening around her, and was actually surprised when the ladies all started to get up from the table to leave the men to their cigars and port. She had not even noticed that the last course had been sweeter than the others, as she had barely tasted anything properly all night.
She followed the ladies into one of the many parlors here at Caldor. Lady Sophie took a seat at the pianoforte and began to play, as Lady Charlotte and Lady Mary served everyone with ratafia and sweet biscuits. Mary paused as she handed Anne her glass and the little plate with the delicate treats set upon it. “Are you quite well, my dear?” she asked.
“I think I have a bit of a headache,” Anne admitted. It was true enough. All those thoughts whirling through her brain were making it hurt. “Would you mind if I just took a little walk in the grounds?”
“Not at all. Would you like some company?” her friend asked.
“No, you should remain with your guests,” Anne reminded her, setting down the glass and plate that Mary had just given to her. “I shall not be long.”
Mary gave her hand a squeeze and a supportive smile. “Be as long as you wish,” she said gently. “The gardens are very soothing, I always find.”
