Addicted. Charlotte Featherstone

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ mock horror. “What? Do all the maids line up in a row while they gather our monthly padding and discuss our courses? Does the entire house know when one is early, or one is late?”

      “I should think the late bit would be most talked about,” Ann said, sticking out her tongue in a cheeky manner. “Imagine the gossip if one of us were to miss our monthlies. Mother would interrogate us for hours if she ever found out.”

      “Mama cares only about Mama. I doubt she’d care a tuppence about something as mundane as monthlies.”

      “True,” Ann agreed. “But still, I thought you would like to know. And I want to know that you are on the mend. The bleeding has stopped, hasn’t it?” Ann asked, concern once again creeping into her eyes.

      “It has.”

      “Father said there was nothing wrong with you that rest won’t cure. He always takes up your side, you know.”

      “You are right about Father having a soft spot for me. And thank heavens for that, because if it were up to Mama, I would be in the care of Dr. Thurston, being bled every day and confined to bed with my womanly organs while he contrives to find a way to keep them from making me mad.”

      “Yes,” Ann said, laughing. “Papa adores you as I know very well that you adore him. Every man you have ever met is held up to him, aren’t they? He is the pinnacle that your suitors must strive for.”

      Anais felt herself blush. It was true, no matter how silly the notion sounded. Her father was a good, kind, honest man. Was it so wrong for her to desire that the man she choose to marry and commit her life to, be nothing short of the sort her father was?

      “And then there is Mama,” Ann said with a groan. “She is forever making me fuss over my appearance. She is only interested in me when I am looking pretty and am dressed in frilly gowns with layers of flounces and bows. She never bothers to read my poems, and furthermore, I don’t believe she listens to me when I sing, unless of course I’m surrounded by potential beaux. Then she uses it to her advantage to inform everyone, most embarrassingly, I might add, what a wonderful wife I shall make. I vow, Mama never has a substantial thought in her head. She never thinks of anything other than fashion and her toilette. How could father have married such a shallow person?”

      “Love is blind, I suppose.” Anais thought of how she had been blinded by love. Love had stopped her from seeing what Lindsay was truly like. Naiveté had prevented her from realizing that Rebecca was not truly her dearest friend. She had been so blind to many things this past year.

      “Anais,” Ann asked, her tone suddenly somber. “I wish to know if anything happened between you and Lindsay. You both left Bewdley so suddenly. I never heard a word about you going off to France with Aunt Millie and her companion, Jane. And suddenly, you were gone. Then Lindsay arrived and I heard him yelling downstairs in Papa’s study, demanding to know where you were being kept. He was distraught. I could not help but think his choice of words was rather bizarre.”

      “Perhaps you misinterpreted them.”

      Her sister frowned. “I did not. And do not pretend to believe that you don’t think Lindsay’s sudden disappearance is not odd. I don’t believe that he just poof—” Ann puffed between her lips as she waved her hand as if she held a magic wand in her fingers “—he just disappeared into thin air without a word to anyone. Not even his mother, Lady Weatherby, knows precisely where he is. He has been gone over ten months, Anais, with no news of him. Are you not concerned?”

      “I’m tired, Ann.” She was feeling weak and fatigued, but most of all she did not want to talk about Lindsay and what had happened between them the night of the masquerade ball. She had told no one, not her father, and most certainly not her mother. She had to divulge a few of the details to Aunt Millie. Aunt Millie’s companion, Jane, knew a bit more than her aunt, but Anais had convoluted the truth to suit her needs. The only person who knew the full truth was Garrett, and he had been remarkably supportive, not to mention silent.

      “I’m very disappointed in Lord Raeburn,” Ann said, stroking Anais’s hand with her fingertips. “I thought for certain he would propose to you. How wrong I was.”

      “It’s all right, dearest,” Anais said, trying to smile for her sister’s benefit. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

      “But you loved him, Anais.”

      “In truth, it would not have been a sound alliance.”

      Her sister shot her a dubious look. “And an alliance with Lord Broughton would be more sound, then?”

      “Ann,” she warned. “I am not talking about such things with you.”

      “I’m fifteen now,” she wailed, “and Squire Wilton’s son kissed me beneath the Maypole. I’m a woman, Anais. I know about such things as love and marriage.”

      “Really? Then you are much more educated than I, for I understand none of it. Now, off to church you go. I think I hear Mama calling your name.”

      “What of Lord Broughton, Anais, are you going to marry him?”

      “Garrett is a friend, Ann. A very dear friend.”

      “Just like Lindsay was your very dear friend?”

      Anais looked toward the window, to the black night beyond and the white snow that fell in a straight, heavy line. “Lindsay was a dear friend. But that was before.”

      “I’m sorry that Lindsay ran off instead of proposing to you. I would have liked to have him for a brother-in-law. He is much more sporting than Lord Broughton.”

      “Lord Broughton is a very kind man. He is very loving, very forgiving.”

      “And what has Lord Broughton to forgive you for?” Ann asked, immediately pouncing on the little slip.

      “For not marrying him despite—” Anais looked away and brushed a small tear that escaped unchecked from her eye. She did not finish her thought. Could not finish it, despite the very great need she had to confide in someone. She felt so alone, so empty inside. But then, she had made her own choices and the consequences were hers alone to live with.

      “I hope someday you shall be able to tell me the truth of what happened between you and Lord Broughton in Paris, Anais. Perhaps you have convinced Mama and Papa that this mysterious illness of yours is nothing but a trifling fever, but you have not fooled me. I would hate to think you could not share confidences with your own sister.”

      “Confidences can be such burdens, Ann. I contracted my illness while traveling abroad. Lord Broughton returned me home to convalesce, there is nothing else to say.”

      Ann’s blue eyes swept along the covers that shielded Anais’s form. Anais could not help but draw her knees up farther, hiding deeper beneath the blanket. “I suppose time will tell us, won’t it?” Ann said with a sad wistfulness. “Good night, Anais.”

      “Good night, Ann.”

      Her sister smiled and let herself out. Sighing heavily, Anais looked about her room, feeling tired and drained. Her body was tired, her mind and the worries that constantly plagued her further drained her of what little strength she still possessed. She wondered if she would ever be free of the worries she harbored. Perhaps it was her penance to live every day in fear that her secret would СКАЧАТЬ