Page 112 of The Trouble with Anna

At least, that was the only explanation for why time seemed to speed up and everyone acted suddenly so peculiar. Some of it Anna expected, such as Charlotte tearing through sketchbooks and muttering about wedding gowns, lingerie, and inconsiderate people who ought to know how long it takes to put together a proper trousseau. Or the Dowager, who kept conjuring jewelry out of little drawers and presenting it to Anna, like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat.

“This tiara was my great-grandmother’s. It’s a—”

“Hideouspiece,” said Charlotte, grabbing it away from Anna to inspect the rows of glittering green and white stones. “Perhaps if we refashion this front part into a rearing horse?”

“Charlotte Louisa Aveton, if youdare—”

Charlotte laughed and passed it back to Anna. “I’m only funning, Gran. It’s lovely and the emeralds will look wonderful on Anna.”

Anna swiveled her head between the two of them, at a loss. Charlotte’s mood was so changeable, now that her mother was camped out in Calais like a general threatening to invade. “It is lovely, but I can’t take anything Charlotte wants.”

Charlotte laughed again and the Dowager shook her head. “Charlotte has a tiara and an aigrette already. This one was set aside for Julian’s wife, which means, of course, that it’s foryou.”

Anna smiled uncertainly. She’d been feeling more uncertain every day, and never more so than when Julian had taken his leave of her to spend a week at Clare, his main estate.

“Must you go?” Anna had said on the day of his departure, standing with him in the front hall.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I must if we’re to take a month in Ireland. My bailiff has questions and he says they can’t keep that long. No, Countess, don’t look at me like that. Close your eyes and think of our honeymoon, the rolling green hills and horses galore.”

Anna mustered a smile and Julian leaned in for a kiss, and helplessly for another, and then his carriage clattered off and he was gone. Even though the Dowager’s house was as full and bustling as ever, to Anna it felt silent.

She was to be married—to Julian. She was to be his Countess, hiswife. She’d rise with him each morning and sleep in his bed each night.

Admittedly, that last part sounded marvelous. Especially when Julian was around to draw her into darkened nooks and whisper delicious things in her ear. But now he was gone, the darkened nooks were empty, and she was so deeply in love that it felt like she might drown.

He loves you too!she told herself stoutly. Except that he’d never once—even with all the nook whispering—said a single word about his feelings. Anna rubbed her thumb over the flat stones of her new ring, as she’d begun to do anytime doubts crept in.

Strangely enough, her grandfather’s voice came to her.Do you know the secret of racing, child? When in doubt, run forward.

So day by day, Anna did.

Two weeks before the wedding, Charlotte charged into Anna’s bedchamber. “Get up, slugabed!” She drew up straighter when she spotted Anna awake, dressed, and sitting at her writing desk, staring calmly back at her. “Oh! You’re awake already?”

“I’ve been up for ages with my correspondence. Rothschild’s offered a fortune to put his mare to Archer, but—”

“Horses, bah!” Charlotte waved a sheaf of papers. “I have Josephine’s sketches for yourwedding gown. Come see!”

Charlotte jumped onto the bed, sat up on her knees, and carefully arranged the sketches in a semicircle on the counterpane. “Look how clever! She’s sent over a spool of the embroidery thread. It’s the palest blue, just like the gown, but it has the most darling strands of gold in it.”

Anna tiptoed over to the bed. “Oh, Charlotte!” she breathed.

Her wedding dress. The dress she’d wear to marry Julian in two weeks’ time.

It seemed modest at first glance, befitting a morning wedding by special license with only family in attendance. The cut was plain, with a boat neck, a broad sash under the bust, and a skirt that flared gently to the floor. But the square of fabric and embroidery thread Josephine had pinned to one of the sketches was worthy of a countess. Worthy of a queen, even. The silk was a pale, shimmering blue, like a misty morning sky, and against it the gold strands in the thread looked like the first glinting rays of the sun. She would come to Julian dressed as a new beginning, holding hope in her hands.

Anna’s stomach kicked and she had to look away.

When Julian was near, she floated. When he was gone, her thoughts crashed around like leathery old bats, scaring her more each day.

There was a slight rap at the door and Ivy poked her head in. “Lady Anna, there’s a gentleman waiting for you in the small salon.”

Anna’s heart leapt. “His lordship’s back early?”

“No, my lady. The gentleman is a Mr. Gerald Ingram. He’s calling from the law firm Ingram & Ingram.”

“Send him away,” Charlotte called. “Ivy, the sketches are here!”

Ivy squealed. “Ooh! May I see?”

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