Itdidfeel good to be back.
Anne hugged Susanna and Frances the following morning when the earl came for them in his carriage and waved them on their way from the pavement, Claudia at her side. And then they smiled at each other and went back inside the school to organize the girls for their planned walk and picnic in nearby Sydney Gardens.
Two weeks passed with busy holiday-time activities, including walks and picnics and games in the meadow beyond the school and treasure hunts within the school itself. Sometimes Anne sat with the girls, in the common room or in their dormitory, talking with them, listening to them, trying to give them some sense of family, some realization that there were adults who cared about them. But inevitably the new school year approached. There were to be a number of new girls. Indeed, the total number of both boarders and day pupils was to increase, since the school was prospering. Lila Walton, a promising senior pupil from last year, had stayed on in order to become a junior teacher—just as Susanna had done four years before. Anne spent several hours with her, helping her to prepare.
And finally Susanna returned, relaxed and bronzed and full of energy and stories of her holiday at Barclay Court.
Claudia was engaged to dine that evening with the parents of one of the new day pupils. Anne and Susanna sat up alone together in Anne’s room after everyone else had retired for the night, Susanna seated on the bed, her arms clasped about her raised knees, Anne on the chair beside her small desk.
“I hated to lose Frances when she left here two years ago to marry the earl,” Susanna said with a sigh. “But, oh, Anne, she made the right decision. I am so very envious. The earl is very charming. And he is terribly proud of her. He does not at all resent having to travel such long distances so that she can sing. Indeed, I believe he revels in her fame.”
“And he is as much in love with her as he always was when he pursued her so relentlessly,” Anne said. “That was obvious when he dined here with us.”
Susanna sighed again. “Was it not like a fairy tale, their romance?” she said. “He wouldnotlet her go, would he, even though he wasViscount Sinclairand heir to the earldom and Frances was a lowly teacher at our school. But she wassobeautiful. She is even more so now. Marriage and travel and a singing career obviously agree very well with her.”
They were quiet for a moment, both glad of Frances’s happiness, both rather melancholy for their own sakes.
“And what of you?” Anne asked. “Did you really have a lovely time? Did you meet anyone interesting?”
“Like a duke to sweep me off my feet and bear me off to his castle as his bride?” Susanna laughed. “No, not quite, alas. But Frances and Lord Edgecombe were very obliging, Anne, and made sure there was some entertainment for me to attend almost every day, even though I am sure they would have been just as happy to relax and be quiet together after being away for so long. I met some amiable and interesting people, most of whom I knew from before, of course.”
“But no one special?” Anne asked.
“No,” Susanna said. “Not really.”
Anne raised her eyebrows.
“Only one gentleman,” Susanna admitted, “who made his intentions very clear, and they were not honorable ones. It was the old story, Anne. Yet he was very handsome and very amiable. Never mind. And you? You told us a great deal about your Welsh holiday the evening before I left, but nothing that was very personal. Didyoumeet anyone interesting?”
“The Bedwyns,” Anne said, smiling, “are all quite fascinating, Susanna—and that is actually an understatement. The Duke of Bewcastle is every bit as formidable as he is reputed to be. He has cold silver eyes and long fingers that are forever curling about the handle of his quizzing glass. He is quite terrifying. And yet he was unfailingly courteous to me. The duchess is a delight and not at all high in the instep, and it is quite clear that he adores her though he is never ever demonstrative in public. He also adores their son, who is a cross, demanding little baby—except when his father is holding him. And he holds him rather often. He is a strange, mysterious, fascinating man.”
Susanna rested her chin on her knees.
“All this talk of married dukes is depressing me,” she said, her eyes nevertheless twinkling. “Was there no one who wasunmarried?”
“No dukes.” Anne smiled too, but she had a sudden, unbidden memory of sitting on the stile at Ty Gwyn, smiling down at Sydnam Butler and setting her hand in his before descending. And of the perfect summer day that had surrounded them.
Susanna was looking very directly at her.
“Oh, Anne,” she said.“Who?”
“No one really,” Anne said quickly, shifting position on the chair. But she felt instantly contrite. “Oh, what a dreadful thing to say of another human being. He very definitely issomeone. He is the duke’s steward at Glandwr. He was alone and I was alone, and so it was natural enough that occasionally we walked out together or sat together on evenings when he was invited to dine. That is all.”
She willed herself not to blush.
“All,” Susanna repeated, still gazing steadily at her. “And was he tall, dark, and handsome, Anne?”
“Yes,” Anne said. “All three.”
Susanna continued to gaze.
“We were merely friends,” Anne said.
“Were you?” Susanna spoke softly.
“We were.” Anne could not quite bring herself to smile. And she could no longer sit still. She got to her feet and crossed to the window. She pulled back one curtain and looked out onto the blackness of the meadow. “We were very…dear friends.”
“But he did not make an offer,” Susanna said. “Anne, I am so sorry.”
