Winterset Page 8

  “Probably didn’t want Penny fussing at her. For all her silliness, Penny’s a more sensible girl than that. She’d have told her it was wrong to just take off with some man.”

  “Yes, but, you see, we don’t know that that is what she has done,” Anna pointed out. “Did she take any of her things with her? I would think Penny would have noticed if she had.”

  “No, miss, Penny looked through her things, and she didn’t think she took anything other than what she was wearing.”

  “Wouldn’t she have taken her things if she was planning to run away?”

  Mrs. Michaels looked thoughtful. “Mayhap she didn’t run away with the man. Maybe she was just so late that she realized she couldn’t come back without getting into trouble. So she took off.”

  “Without any of her possessions?” Anna asked skeptically.

  “It wasn’t much, miss, just a few bits of clothes and a brush and such. She was wearing her earrings, Penny said.”

  “Yes, but if you haven’t much, I would think what you do have is precious to you,” Anna said.

  Mrs. Michaels frowned. “I don’t understand, miss. Why do you think she didn’t run away? I mean, what else could it have been?”

  “I don’t know.” Anna thought again of her shivery feeling in the woods. She wasn’t sure why she connected it with Estelle’s disappearance. It probably had nothing to do with it. And yet…she could not shake the feeling that there was something wrong. However, she could scarcely tell her very practical housekeeper that she was worried because of a strange sensation that had come over her in the woods that day.

  “But it seems to me,” she went on, “that we ought to make a push to see if we can find her. Ask her family, tell the constable that she’s gone missing, send some men out to search around a bit. I mean, what if she fell down as she was returning to the house and is out there somewhere, hurt?”

  “Well, yes, miss, of course, if that is what you want,” Mrs. Michaels agreed, her expression plainly stating that she found Anna far too softhearted in her dealings with the servants.

  “Yes, that is what I want,” Anna told her firmly. Mrs. Michaels had been the housekeeper at Holcomb Manor since before Anna was born, and she would never have dreamed of replacing her. The Holcombs were known for their loyalty. But she had learned early on that unless she was firm and spoke with authority, the older woman would run everything exactly as she pleased, rather than as Anna wanted.

  Anna went to bed feeling easier in her mind, knowing that whatever Mrs. Michaels might think, now that Anna had given her an order, she would do whatever she could to find the girl.

  As the week wore on, however, there was no news of Estelle. Her family had not seen her in several weeks, nor had anyone else in the village. The gamekeeper had taken the grooms and some of the gardeners and had fanned out around the garden and grounds the next day, searching all the way back into the woods almost to Craydon Tor. There was no sign of Estelle, and Anna was forced to agree that the maid must have run away, probably with the man she had been sneaking out to meet at night. No one, including Penny, seemed to know who that man had been, so there was no way of checking whether he was still around or had left town, too.

  The twins took her up on her invitation to visit Holcomb Manor, and the three of them hiked over to Nick Perkins’ cottage to check on the dog. They found the patient alive and apparently healing, though he was able to do no more than lift his head and thump his tail somewhat feebly when they drew near him. The boys wound up spending most of the afternoon there, helping Nick with his garden and learning about all his herbs and their healing properties.

  Anna enjoyed the afternoon thoroughly. Having grown up with a younger brother, she was well used to boys, and she found the twins bright and entertaining, if at times almost too full of energy. Looking at them, she could see Reed at that age or the children they might have had if she had agreed to his proposal. But that, of course, was not worth thinking of, as she quickly reminded herself.

  She had planned not to attend Kyria’s party on Friday evening, intending to come up with a headache at the last minute, but as the days went by, she found herself thinking about what she would wear and discussing hairstyles with Penny, just as if she was really going to go. Finally, on Friday, she had to admit to herself that she wanted to go to the party. Social occasions were not that common here in their rural backwater, and she hated to miss out on the one that would probably be the highlight of the season. Kyria had seemed quite nice, and it would be rude, she told herself, not to attend, especially with no better excuse than a mere headache. Besides, even though she would insist that Kit go on without her, it would put something of a damper on his enjoyment of the evening. And the prospect of spending the evening in her bed, with a lavender-soaked cloth on her head, pretending to be sick and thinking about the gaiety that was going on without her, struck her as a thoroughly unpleasant way to spend an evening.

  It wasn’t as if she would have to spend the evening with Reed, she reasoned. There would an ample number of other people there with whom she could mingle. And after their talk in the carriage the other night, she suspected that he would have as much interest in avoiding her as she had in avoiding him. Besides, she could not resist the ignoble urge to let Reed see her looking her best instead of the ragtag way she had looked the other times he had run into her recently.

  And so Friday evening found her dressed in her newest ball gown, a sky-blue dress that did wonderful things for her skin and eyes, and which, with its wide scoop neck and small puffed sleeves, showed off her creamy white shoulders to perfection. It was adorned in back with the smallest of bustles, over which the skirt was pulled back and gathered to fall in a cascade of blue satin. A simple pearl necklace and eardrops completed the outfit, and Penny had arranged her golden brown hair in a fall of ringlets from a knot at the crown of her head, with soft curls escaping around her face. She did look her best, she was pleased to think, and she hoped it was not terrible of her to hope that when he looked at her, Reed would think that she was as pretty as she had been three years ago.

  Not, of course, she reminded herself, that she wanted anything to come of it. She did not. That part of her life was over, and it was best that way. But surely there was not so much wrong with just a little vanity on her part.

  She smiled at her brother as he helped her up into their carriage, her stomach tightening with anticipation. Kit looked equally eager, she thought, and she wondered if his anticipation centered around the lovely Miss Farrington. The thought worried her a trifle. Kit, of course, was both realistic and dutiful; he would not do anything he should not. But that did not mean that his heart might not get bruised. However, she said nothing, not wanting to cast a pall over their first evening out in weeks. In general, she loved the country and her life there, but at times the quiet life could be almost stifling.

  Winterset was ablaze with lights as their carriage approached, following a few yards behind the doctor’s one-horse rig. A footman opened the door and ushered them into the large drawing room, where Lady Kyria and her brother and husband stood in line to receive them. Lady Kyria was a vision in emerald green, but it was to Reed that Anna’s eyes went first. He wore formal black and white, with the only spot of color a tasteful blood-red ruby tie pin nestled in his snowy cravat, but he was easily the handsomest man there, Anna thought.

  Her pulse speeded up, and it occurred to her suddenly that it had been a definite mistake on her part to come. She was playing with fire, she realized, wanting to come here tonight to see Reed again, wanting him to see her. The flash of silver in his eyes as they fell on her confirmed that. It was not Kit whose heart she should be worried about endangering, it was her own.

  She looked quickly away from Reed, smiling at Kyria and murmuring a polite greeting. But then there was no avoiding him, for he stood next in line and took her hand smoothly from his sister, bowing over it.

  “Miss Holcomb, a pleasure to see you again. I hope I am not forw
ard in saying that you are a vision tonight.”

  Anna could feel a blush starting in her cheeks, and she was suddenly hopelessly tongue-tied. “Thank you, my lord,” she replied faintly, not looking into his eyes. “It is so kind of you to have us in your home. I believe you know my brother Kit?” she hurried on, turning to include her brother.

  “Yes. Sir Christopher, of course.” Reed released her hand, turning toward her brother, but Anna could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers against hers.

  For once in her life, she was glad for the distraction of the squire’s wife, who bustled up to her, her gray curls fairly quivering with excitement. “Anna, there you are. Poor Miles was afraid you would not come. He’s been wanting so to dance with you—and while it is not a ball, per se, I don’t doubt but what Lady Kyria will let you young folks have a few dances. She’s hired a string quartet, you see. So elegant.”

  Anna smiled and nodded, letting the woman lead her toward the rest of her family. She had her doubts that Mrs. Bennett’s son Miles had expressed any longing to dance with her; that was simply the sort of foolish thing Mrs. Bennett liked to say. While Mrs. Bennett did not cherish any hopes regarding her son and Anna—or, at least, Anna sincerely hoped she did not, since the boy was barely twenty-one to her own twenty-six years—as she did with Kit and her daughter, she liked to link the members of their family in any way possible, feeling, Anna thought, that it gave her the same social status.

  The squire was standing with their daughter Felicity, and Miles lounged against the mantel a few feet away from them, doing his best to look interesting. His brown hair was worn a trifle long and shaggy, and his cravat was carelessly tied. The effect he was looking for, Anna thought, was that of an artist or poet—moody and enigmatic, even a little bit dangerous. In truth, he simply looked a trifle unkempt and unsure of himself. He should, in Anna’s opinion, take a look at Reed, for the elegant set of his shoulders and the flash of silver in his eyes was inherently more dangerous to any woman’s heart than all of Miles Bennett’s posturing.

  Anna greeted the squire and Felicity. Squire Bennett was a stolid, quiet man, the opposite of his chatterbox of a wife, and he greeted Anna and her brother, whom Mrs. Bennett had managed to seize and drag along with them, with a brief bow and a few words. Then he fell silent, nodding along as he let his wife and daughter rush forward with the conversation. Mrs. Bennett talked, and Felicity giggled and bridled and flirted with her eyes over her fan at Kit, who remained politely oblivious to her efforts.

  Miles apparently realized after a time that his pose by the mantel, while artistic, kept him apart from the conversation, for after a few minutes he lounged over to join their circle.

  “Miles, there you are!” his mother exclaimed with delight, as if he had appeared from some distance. “I was just telling Sir Christopher and Miss Anna how you have been spending your days writing.” Mrs. Bennett turned toward Anna, saying with a smile, “You should see him. He just scribbles and scribbles away in there, for hours on end. Of course, he won’t let me read a bit of it—young men are so secretive, are they not?”

  She beamed at her son, who was looking acutely embarrassed. Her daughter picked up the conversation, tittering and saying, “That is all he ever does, read and write, write and read. I cannot think what he finds in it.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Miles retorted rudely, shooting his sister a dark look.

  “I love to read, as well,” Anna put in, with a smile toward Miles. He had been rude, of course, but it must be a severe trial to have the mother and sister that he did.

  Miles smiled back at her, and his face was instantly more attractive. He would be better served, Anna thought, to put aside his brooding-writer pose and smile more.

  “I am certain that you understand,” he told Anna warmly, and it occurred to her that perhaps his mother’s words hadn’t sprung entirely from her imagination. It was just possible that Miles was suffering from a mild case of puppy love. She sighed inwardly, knowing that she would have to watch her words and gestures carefully from now on, so that he would not receive any unintended encouragement.

  She was glad when Dr. Felton joined them and asked her if she cared for a stroll around the room. Large and rectangular, it was really more an assembly room than a drawing room, with several straight-backed chairs placed about the walls and a massive teak table in the center. It was perfect for a social affair such as this: large enough to accommodate several areas of conversation, while having plenty of space to stroll about in. Later, if Lady Kyria did indeed allow dancing, the large table could simply be pushed back to create a small ballroom. It was also one of the rooms for which Winterset was justly famous—the barrel-vaulted plasterwork ceiling was covered in representations of animals, both real and fantastical, running the gamut from jumping trout and oddly formed elephants to hippogriffs, chimeras and dragons.

  “Interesting ceiling,” Felton remarked, looking up at it. “I’ve heard about it—my father used to sing the praises of Winterset—but I haven’t ever actually seen it.”

  “Yes, my uncle rarely entertained,” Anna agreed, keeping an eye out for Reed’s whereabouts so that she could avoid running into him.

  “How is your uncle?”

  “Doing well, thank you.”

  They had drawn close to the vicar and his wife, and Mrs. Burroughs turned toward them, smiling. “You are speaking of your uncle, I collect?”

  “Yes. Dr. Felton kindly inquired after his health.”

  “Dear Lord de Winter,” Mrs. Burroughs said, beaming. “We do miss him, don’t we, dear?”

  As her uncle had rarely darkened the door of the church, Anna rather doubted that sentiment, but she merely smiled and nodded.

  “How long has he been away now? Ten years, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Likes the tropics, does he?” the vicar said with his kind smile. “Can’t say I blame him. Sometimes, when my elbow aches in the winter, I could wish I were in Barbados myself.”

  “Yes. It is very pleasant there, I understand. Of course, we do not hear from Uncle Charles very often. He was never much of a correspondent, I fear.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Anna could see Reed walking toward them, so, with a smile, she eased out of the group and made her way over to where Kyria stood, chatting with Kit and Rosemary Farrington. In the same manner she managed to avoid him for much of the next hour.

  As the party wore on, Kyria did indeed open up the floor for dancing. Anna took to the floor first with her brother, and after that she stood up with Dr. Felton, then Miles Bennett. She had danced often enough with both of them, for generally the same people attended every social gathering. Dr. Felton was an adequate, if methodical, dancer, but Miles Bennett was a poor partner, concentrating on his footwork to the exclusion of all else, including the music, so that while he did not tromp all over her feet, he did tend to push and pull her about the floor without much regard to the beat of the music.

  It was a relief when the dance ended and she was able to curtsey to Miles and leave the floor. However, as she turned to walk away, she found Reed standing in her path, a cup of lemonade in his hand.

  “You look as if you could use this,” he told her, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth as he held out the cup to her.

  Anna could not help but chuckle and take the drink from him. “It is a rather energetic exercise, dancing with Miles,” she agreed, then sipped thirstily.

  “Perhaps you will allow me to lead you out for the next dance, then. I promise I am not so quick-footed.”

  Anna remembered all too well how Reed danced, and just the thought of it set up nervous trembles in her stomach. She looked up at him. There was nothing in his face of the anger or bitterness that had been there the last time they had talked, nothing but polite interest. She should not waltz with him, she knew, but, on the other hand, it would seem odd and impolite not to dance with her host.

  “I—thank you. Of course.” The truth was, she knew, that s
he wanted to dance with him again. It was foolish, just as it had been foolish to come here, but she could not seem to keep from doing it. She took another nervous sip of the lemonade.

  Then the first notes of the music sounded, and Reed took the cup from her, setting it aside on a nearby table, and gave her his arm to lead her out onto the floor. She took it, hoping he could not feel the faint trembling of her fingers through his suit jacket. He turned to face her, one hand going to her waist, the other curving around her hand, and they swept out onto the floor.

  Anna’s heart lifted with the music. Dancing with Reed was like heaven after Miles’ clumsy efforts. She floated across the floor, very aware of the warmth of his hand at her waist. She remembered the first time she had danced with him, in the ballroom at Holcomb Manor. She had been giddy, already tumbling head over heels into love with him, and she had never known anything so wonderful in her life. She had been twenty-three, but she had felt like a girl of eighteen at her first ball.

  She tried to thrust the memory out of her mind. It was dangerous to think about it. She knew better now; she could not let herself stumble into that same quagmire. Anna looked up at Reed, and her breath caught in her throat. He was gazing down at her, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. His gaze flickered to her mouth, and his eyes darkened. Anna’s insides quivered in response.

  It did not surprise her when he danced her closer to the bank of French doors, open to catch the cooler evening air, or that before the notes of the music ended, he whisked her out the doors onto the terrace.

  Taking her hand, he walked over to the balustrade. They stood silently for a moment, looking out over the moon-washed garden, still largely untamed despite the recent efforts of Reed’s gardeners, who had come to help old Grimsley. The heady scent of roses hung on the night air, heavy and seductive.

  Reed took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him, and Anna looked up reluctantly into his face. His full lips were drawn tight, and he was scowling down at her, but the heat in his eyes was at odds with his irritated expression. “I must have been mad to come back here,” he said. “You are more beautiful than ever…or perhaps I’d just forgotten.”