Annabelle's Courtship

“Yes, isn’t it?” Diana caught Annabelle’s eyes and they went off into peals of laughter.

Annabelle hugged her friend’s arm. “I’m glad you’re here.” Remembering her first two seasons, Annabelle grimaced. She had not wanted to come out of mourning for her parents, but Robert and Aunt Griselda had been adamant.

Robert told her that he was worried she would never get over their parents’ death if she did not start living again. So, he insisted that she attend the Season.

No amount of persuasion on her aunt’s part, however, would convince Annabelle to wear gowns adorned with flounces and furbelows. The ornamentation seemed obscene to her grieving mind. With average looks and no interest in the social games of the ton, she had soon been labeled The Ordinary.

She had not cared.

Then she met Diana. They had been sitting near one another at a ball. Diana, resting because she had danced too much, and Annabelle because she rarely danced at all.

Someone had raised the issue of women’s rights. Annabelle shocked both herself and those around her when she made an impassioned declaration about the plight of women in England. Diana had stared at her with wide eyes and avowed that she was not ordinary at all.

They had been fast friends ever since.

Robert followed them into the breakfast room and took a seat next to his wife at the table. “I’m quite serious, impending engagement or no, it is highly improper for you to be entertaining the laird alone.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Honest bafflement overrode any other reaction to her brother’s words. There was no way that Robert could have heard of Ian’s plans at his country estate so far north. “What impending engagement?” Robert said, “It’s hardly a secret. You needn’t play ignorant with me.” Annabelle turned to Diana in desperation. “Has Aunt Griselda been communicating with you?” She didn’t see how it could be the case, unless her aunt had envisioned her current circumstance with the laird on their first meeting.

Diana picked up the paper and opened it to the society page. “Here, read this.” Annabelle scanned the column and all vestiges of hunger drained from her.

“A certain Lady A. has been seen often in the company of Lord G. of Scotland since his arrival to Town. Could Lady A. be making a match at last? ” queried the impertinent writer.

Annabelle put a hand to her head. What had she expected with Ian making his suit so obvious? Looking at the speculative gleam in her brother’s eyes, she groaned. Robert was almost as fixated with getting her married as their aunt.

“It’s not what it seems.”

“He is not courting you?” Outrage vibrated through her brother’s words.

Visions of dawn appointments swam before Annabelle’s eyes. Sometimes her brother went over the top on the issue of family honor. “Well, yes, he is courting me.” Her brother’s anger turned to a look of complacence and he smiled. “Well done, Annabelle.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

Hoping to change the subject, she turned to Diana. “I’ve been waiting impatiently for your arrival. I’m so glad you are finally here. We have much to discuss.”

“How could that be? You two corresponded more than I did with my estate managers.”

Giving her husband a condescending smile, Diana said, “Naturally.” She faced Annabelle and grinned. “You couldn’t keep me away a day longer.”

“Diana, you know quite well I was content to molder away on my country estate to keep your lovely person all to myself.”

Diana gave her husband a look full of warmth and secrets. A timeless moment passed in which Annabelle was overcome with longing. For all their banter, her brother and Diana’s was a love match.

“You certainly don’t look like someone who has been moldering away, Diana. You are positively blooming with happiness,” Annabelle said with fondness.

“You will be having your own dish of happiness soon,” quizzed Robert.

Annabelle frowned at her brother. “I told you, I am not going to marry Laird MacKay. Besides, even were I to agree to such a ridiculous notion, it would be quite different than the union of minds and hearts you and Diana enjoy.”

“Surely it is too early to make such an emphatic pronouncement,” declared Diana.

There was nothing for it, but to explain the matter in its entirety. Well perhaps not the entirety, her brother need not know of Ian’s passionate kisses in the garden.

Annabelle felt Ian’s proposal did her no credit, but it would be the only way of explaining her aversion to his marked attention.

As she spoke, her brother looked hard-pressed not to laugh. The mirth in his eyes did nothing for her sense of injured dignity. She scowled at him.

“It is not amusing.” She waved the newspaper before him. “Now this. How would you like to be painted in such unflattering terms and the latest on-dit on the tip of everyone’s tongue?”

His mirth vanished. Robert had a horror of being the center of gossip or scandal.

Diana’s reaction aligned itself immediately with Annabelle. “How dare he. The brute. You are a perfectly lovely creature and if he’s so blind he can’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you. As for this rag,” she said, indicating the paper with a condescending sweep of her hands, “they simply do not understand a lady taking her time to the altar.” Her friend’s staunch support went a long way toward restoring Annabelle’s good mood.

Cresswell entered the room. “There is a fire lit in the drawing room per Lady Beauford’s orders.” When no one moved, he spoke again. “It is quite comfortable in there.”

Diana took the situation in hand. “Robert, go pay your respects to your aunt. She’s undoubtedly ready to receive company by now.” When he hesitated, she shooed him with her hand. “Go. I will be up momentarily.”

Robert left the room and Diana tugged on Annabelle’s arm. “Come, let us retire to the drawing room. Cresswell seems quite put out that no one is in there to appreciate Lady Beauford’s generosity in ordering the fire lit.” Annabelle followed Diana to the other room. They sat on matching tapestry chairs near the brazier. She regretted her choice of dress for the second time that morning. The heat of the fire made the wool prickle against her skin.

“Tell me all,” Diana said firmly.

Annabelle grimaced. “The proposal was truly awful.”

“Yes, yes, so you’ve said. What about the rest?”

“The rest?” Now that the opportunity had come for Annabelle to unburden herself, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to. Would Diana understand her quandary? Happily married to the man she loved, could she understand all the riotous emotions coursing through Annabelle?

“Yes, the rest. You would not be so beside yourself if Lord Graenfrae had simply made a proposal of no consequence.”

“You cannot believe an impertinent m

arriage proposal of no consequence,” Annabelle exclaimed.

Diana patted her arm. “Of course not. Haven’t I already said so? But your sense of humor has served you well in other circumstances that could have been equally devastating.”

Annabelle stood and moved away from the heat of the fire. She spoke with her back to Diana. “Nothing has ever been this provoking.” Diana laughed. “That is hard to believe. Remember when Freddy Jenkins was on the verge of proposing and then he fell for that empty-headed Mary Potts? When he came to explain his change of heart to you, you laughed him out of the room. You were not affected at all.”

Recalling Freddy’s ignominious exit, Annabelle could not help smiling just a little.

Picking up one of the trinkets on a lacquer table she idly played with it before setting it down with a thump.

“This is entirely different. Freddy’s idea of our relationship was amusing in the extreme, but Ian is an infuriating man with no concept of the tender emotions, much less the meaning of denial.”

Diana shifted in her chair to face Annabelle. “My dear, you are putting too much importance on this matter. The Scotsman will eventually give up when you continue to deny his proposal.”

Annabelle whirled around to face her friend, nearly knocking the entire grouping of knick-knacks off the shiny black table. “I would think that if he has the effrontery to say he is going to court me, then he is honor bound to do so.”

“Yes of course, I’m sure he’ll continue to court you if that is what you want,” Diana said, obviously trying to soothe, but failing.

“It’s not a matter of what I want. The man is stubborn as they come and will not give up easily,” Annabelle insisted.

Annabelle fingered a piece of silver trim and thought morosely that she had been quite wrong about Ian’s stubbornness. Moving away from where Diana discussed the merits of some dyed muslin with the modiste, Annabelle tried to find something of interest among the bolts of colorful fabric. Her mind persisted in dwelling on Ian’s easy defeat.