What?Anne exchanged a startled look with Sydnam. They were to have the whole of the tearoom to themselves, just the five of them plus the three children and the nurse? And the ballroom too? And there was to be music?
“I perceive, ma’am,” Sydnam said, “that you have arranged a small reception for us after all—small in number but large in space. We are delighted, are we not, Anne?”
“And overwhelmed.” Anne laughed and looked at Joshua, who had just handed Lady Hallmere down from their carriage. “Didyouknow about this, Joshua?”
“About what?” He raised his eyebrows, all innocence.
“About this reception for five adults and three children and the whole of the tearoom and ballroom in which to celebrate,” she said.
“Oh, that?” he said. “Yes. My grandmother is something of an eccentric. Had you not realized?”
They entered the building and made their way down a long, wide hallway. It was indeed devoid of people and noise. But Sydnam had been quite right—thiswasdelightful.
Joshua paused when they arrived outside the door that must lead into the tearoom. A smartly clad servant stood waiting to open it.
“Grandmama? Freyja?” Joshua said, offering an arm to each of them. “We will lead the way in. Sydnam, you may bring Anne in after us.”
Anne turned her head to exchange a smile of amusement with Sydnam. She could hear the children coming along the hallway behind them.
The door opened.
For the first bewildered moment Anne felt embarrassed for Lady Potford. Obviously something must have gone terribly wrong with her plans—a mistaken day, perhaps. The tearoom, large and high-ceilinged and lovely, was actually filled with people. And they were all getting to their feet and looking toward the door and—
And then she and Sydnam were being rained upon by—byrosepetals of all things in November.
And then there was noise to replace the unnatural quiet that had preceded it—voices and laughter and the scraping of chairs on the polished wood floor.
And finally, only moments after the doors had opened, she realized that wherever she looked the faces of the people were familiar.
“What the devil?” Sydnam said, clamping her hand harder to his side. And then he began to laugh.
“Sitting ducks,” Lord Alleyne Bedwyn said from close beside him. “You will be sorry you wore black, Syd.”
“But the petals look good in Anne’s hair,” the Earl of Rosthorn said.
“Oh,” Anne said. “Oh.”
She had spotted her mother and father across the room, her father looking austere and pleased with himself, her mother beaming but holding a handkerchief close to her face too. Sarah and Susan were on one side of them, Matthew and Henry on the other.
And then she saw Frances and the Earl of Edgecombe, and then Miss Thompson—and beside her the Duchess of Bewcastle and Lady Alleyne, and thenSydnam’sparents with Kit and Lauren, and then Susanna and Claudia and Lord Aidan Bedwyn with the Duke of Bewcastle.
But it was all a flashing impression. There was too much to see and too much to comprehend all at once. There were numerous other people present.
The Duchess of Bewcastle clapped her hands, and a silence of sorts descended on the gathering. Anne and Sydnam were still standing just inside the doorway in a pool of deep red rose petals.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Butler,” she said, bright and animated and smiling warmly, “you may have thought yourselves very clever indeed when you married in great secrecy a few weeks ago. But your relatives and friends have caught up with you after all. Welcome to your wedding breakfast.”
Looking back afterward on what turned out to be one of the happiest days of her life, Anne found it hard to remember the exact sequence of events after that first moment. She certainly had no recollection of eating anything, though she supposed she must have done so since she certainly was not hungry for the rest of the day.
But she did remember the noise and the laughter and the wonderful, heady sensation of being the focus of loving attention with Sydnam. She remembered being hugged and kissed and exclaimed over again and again. She even had a few clear memories.
She remembered Joshua bringing forward a pretty, guilelessly smiling young lady, whose free hand was flapping with excitement at her side and realizing that she was Prue Moore—now Prue Turner. She remembered Prue hugging her as if to break every bone in her body.
“Miss Jewell, Miss Jewell,” she cried in her sweet, childish voice, “I love you. I do love you. And now you are Mrs. Butler. I like Mr. Butler even if hedoeshave to wear a black patch on his eye. And I am David’s aunt. Joshua says so and Constance says so, and I am glad about it. Are you?”
And then she turned to hug Sydnam with just as much enthusiasm.
Anne remembered being hugged by Constance too—the former Lady Constance Moore—and realizing that they must have come all the way from Cornwall just for this occasion.
