Page 66 of A Touch of Charm
Thus, one afternoon, Thea found Anna for tea as Mary pretended she was a nurse for Andre and unfolded his muslin towels. It was later in the afternoon and Thea had changed in one of her old day dresses. The others would be delivered in a few days.
Thea noticed a wistfulness in Anna that made her chest tight. “Does your leg hurt very much?”
Anna looked at her as if she’d been woken from a stupor. “Not at all.” She winced when she adjusted in the chair, and Thea knew it hurt, but something else bothered her even more.
“Is this about your husband?” Thea ventured when she poured herself a tea and topped Anna’s off. “Milk?”
“Yes, please.” Anna’s gaze was fixed on Thea’s movements, but she seemed to see another horror altogether. “I sent for my mother.”
“Is she very far away?”
“Vienna. It’s where my father worked before—” Anna’s voice faltered, her lips pressing together as though the words were something fragile she feared to break. She looked down at her hands, pale against the coverlet, fingers faintly trembling. “You know I had a brother,” she said, almost too softly to hear.
“I have four. They can be rather irritating at times.” Thea smiled, hoping to coax even the slightest lightness into the room, but Anna didn’t seem to notice.
“My older brother was born before my parents married,” Anna continued, her voice quiet, distant. She swallowed, her throat bobbing as though she were trying to force back the ache threatening to rise.
“Oh?” Thea prompted gently, leaning forward as if bracing to catch whatever fragile thread Anna was holding onto.
“When Napoleon’s army came…” Anna hesitated. Her breathing grew shallow, and her gaze shifted to the window as if she might find solace in the morning light trembling through the glass. “My mother sent him away. She thought he’d…” Her words wavered, breaking on a sharp inhale. “She thought he’d be safer far from home.”
Thea watched her closely, seeing the battle raging beneath Anna’s calm exterior. Her hands gripped the blanket now as if anchoring herself.
“You’ve never found him,” Thea said softly, not as a question but a truth that lay between them, heavy and undeniable.
“No. I don’t even know if he… if he’s—” Anna bit her lip, shaking her head in quick, determined refusal as though even speaking certain words might make them real. Her chin trembled before she forced it still. “Sometimes, I think I’ve searched all these years not because I thought I’d find him, but because…I couldn’t bear the thought of not trying.”
Thea reached out, her fingers brushing Anna’s wrist lightly. “Anna, you’ve carried this alone for so long. Maybe telling someone, letting it out—” She hesitated, searching for the right words, “Maybe it could be one way to… to at least see what happens next.”
Anna blinked down at Thea’s hand as though trying to find sense in the contact. “You don’t understand,” she said, her tone barely a whisper. “What if I open my mouth and all that comes out is my worst fear? What if… he’s truly gone?”
“But what if he’s not?” Thea pressed, her voice warm yet weighty. “You said it yourself, Anna—you’ve been here at Cloverdale with time to think. Maybe you’ve been preparing for this all along—for the moment when you stop running from the question.”
Anna’s lips parted, but no sound came. There was a new tension in her expression—a mix of longing and fear, of wanting to believe but questioning if she even deserved to. Her gaze flickered back to the window. She closed her eyes briefly, as if searching for courage in the faint rays of light.
Then she exhaled, slow and shaky, her next words clinging to the space between them like a lifeline. “Mother has been looking for him ever since but to no avail. I think it’s slowly killing her, but she’s holding on to life because she can’t die without knowing for certain.”
“It must be tough for a mother to suffer the uncertainty of how or if her child may live,” Thea said, sure she couldn’t fathom the fear in a mother’s heart under such circumstances. And that made her think of her mother.
“Now that I’m with child,” Anna suddenly burst out, “it’s different.”
“I know. Isn’t that wonderful?” Thea asked, but already knew the answer. Anna’s marriage didn’t seem like a loving family. Again, Thea thought of her parents. They were in love and loved her undoubtedly, even if she was just a girl, a mere bargaining chip in the vast net of diplomacy.
“I don’t mean the family. There’s a settlement clause in my marriage contract. I’ve never told anyone about it, Thea. I want to use it now. My husband… I wish he’d live somewhere else.”
“And this clause can make it happen? A divorce agreement?”
“No, nothing that formal. Just a large amount of autonomy and money in case he cheats on me.” Anna looked out the window again as if she could find a better time among the green leaves outside. “Since he brought me to London, I’ve entertained more guests than I can count, and I’ve learned more new names than I ever thought I could, but not one of them became a friend. I don’t trust any of them.” Anna’s eyes bore into hers. “And yet something about you makes me trust you.”
Thea rubbed her hands together. “I ran away from my family, and I don’t know how trustworthy I am.”
“You ran from a fate like mine, Thea. It was wise.”
Thea blew the air out through her lips. “My brother certainly disagrees.”
“About what this time?” Stan suddenly stood in the door. His arm was tangled—one couldn’t consider this wrapped—in a knotted mess of white bandages. He bowed and kept the position a little too long. Then Thea realized what this was all about.
“Thea!” Mary appeared from behind Stan. “Look at him! He’s all better!”
