Eliza stopped brushing and rested her hands on her shoulders. “You have done a brave and generous thing.”
Allowing her mouth to lift on one side, Anna attempted a smile. She was neither brave nor generous. Rather, selfish and fearful. Anna looked down at her hands. “I thank you for that.” For though the words were meant to strengthen, they ripped open the vulnerable parts of her spirit and flayed them for all to see.
Eliza continued. “I want you to know that Hen—” she stopped and smiled briefly. “That he, William, is a good man.”
Was he? She’d known him not even two days. And yet, she’d offered her life to him. She raced back through the memories of her brief time with the handsome stranger. Not once had he raised his hand or his voice despite the perils they’d endured on their short journey together. On the contrary. He’d risked his life on her behalf—saved her from that which she most feared. She shivered at the thought. I shall never return to England. She reached for the chain at her neck and closed her eyes. Never, Lord, I pray thee.
Anna played with the treasure that rested against her chest as Eliza tugged at her hair. Her eyes misted. Mother had wished more for her, had she not? And here, with a new chance at life, in a new land, she had chosen to bind herself to a man she hardly knew.
“There.” Eliza stepped back and grinned so wide her face beamed, eyes twinkling in the light of the sunrise that shone through the window. “He would be a fool indeed to turn down such an offer from one so beautiful. And so kind.”
Anna’s chest tightened. How generous of her, truly. But what man would marry a woman who is barren? Her father had made that clear from her youth.
The door burst open and Kitty rushed in, her cheeks ruddy and her breath shallow as if she’d run every step. “I’ve found it.”
Eliza whirled, her hands clasped beneath her chin. “Oh, it is so lovely, Kitty.” She turned to Anna. “This color will be stunning for you.”
Anna turned and clasped her hands at her middle. The gown draped the bed. Light blue, embroidered with white flowers, the neck and sleeves of the gown were edged with the most delicate lace. ’Twas stunning indeed. Though she had owned gowns at the height of fashion and far more decadent, this gown was lovelier than anything she had ever worn, not for the needlework or design, but for what it meant. For who had ever thought of her in such a way? Who had ever offered something so generous? No one.
She glanced at the two women, their eyes round and hopeful. How could she repay such kindness? “I am more grateful than I can express, but I cannot receive such a gift. I have nothing with which to repay such kindness.”
Eliza lowered her head disapprovingly. “Come now. You cannot be married in your homespun.”
Anna squirmed and looked down at her dress. Bringing attention to herself was the last thing she wished to do. Her face burned. But wearing such a tattered dress would hardly make her a fitting bride.
Eliza neared and rested a hand on her arm. “Forgive me, but…I should not wish to speak of things that are not mine to mention. However, I feel to say it is my hope and belief that this union will bring more joy than your last.”
What? Anna stilled. Too shocked to pretend otherwise, her eyes darted between her two companions. When she answered, her words were crowded and hoarse. “How did you know?”
Eliza’s large, brown eyes grew soft. “A woman who has loved deeply, and lost, would not speak about their departed as you have.”
“But I have said nothing—”
“That is how I know.”
Anna quirked her head, brow down.
“Eliza has always been able to discern such things,” Kitty said, seating herself on the edge of the bed. “Her compassion for others allows her to see through the shields we erect in order to help when help is needed.”
Eliza threw her sister a loving smile. “As do you Kitty, in your way as well.” She motioned for Anna to rise from the chair then turned to Kitty, who stood and readied the gown as Eliza began unfastening Anna’s dress. “If you had loved him, had been happy with him, you would have said as much. Or at least your eyes would have, when I asked about your necklace when we were in the kitchen.”
Anna touched the ring before Eliza helped her off with the bodice. “This wasn’t mine—I mean, it is mine, but…” She stopped. Was she really about to expose her entire life to strangers? She couldn’t. Yet these kind women had a way of making it easy to speak of memories that cut.
“You won’t tell William,” Anna said.
Eliza shook her head. “Nay, I will not.”
“We will keep in confidence anything you wish,” Kitty said.
“I thank you.” The cramping in Anna’s muscles eased. “I simply do not wish him to know anything until I can tell him myself.”
Eliza reached out and gripped her hand. The tenderness in her large eyes coated Anna’s middle like a warm sip of tea. “You have our word.”
Kitty stepped forward from the bed. “We wish ours to be a true friendship, for we shall see you as our sister as we see William as our brother, and we wouldn’t wish to betray something so precious.”
Anna’s throat ached so, she could hardly speak. “Thank you.”
Kitty’s eyes narrowed as her smile grew wide. “We must hurry. Reverend Charles is already here.”