“And he you?”
“I ... believe so. I hope so.”
“But ...?” Fanny’s brows rose in expectation.
“Things are topsy-turvy for him right now. With Dr. Marsland being held awaiting trial, he has taken over his practice, for all intents and purposes, yet his future is uncertain at present. Besides, you know I have decided not to marry.”
Fanny shook her head. “No, you decided not to fall in with any of Nancy’s matchmaking schemes. Although not all of her matchmaking schemes have failed as it turns out.”
“And I am glad of that. Glad for you and Mr. Norton both.”
“Don’t be stubborn, Anne. No one will hold you to your declaration to remain single. You made it as an understandable overreaction to Nancy’s endless machinations. Of course you don’t want to be pressured to marry, nor to marry for anything but love. And no one, well, no one except Nancy, wants that for you either.”
“I’ve been unfair to her,” Anne admitted. “Far too critical. I know now she really thought she was helping me. After living in Painswick Court and witnessing the complicated, often tense relationship between Miss Fitzjohn and her mother, and yet, how she grieved her loss...” Anne shook her head. “Well, I’ve resolved to be kinder to Nancy in future. I don’t want to have similar regrets.”
“Really? I’m impressed. Now, enough about Nancy. Tell me more about this Dr. Finch. What did you say to each other before you left? Did you make no promises to return? Did he make you no offer?”
Anne shook her head. “It hardly seemed the time, considering recent tragedies.”
“I suppose so.” Her sister pouted for a moment, then eagerly urged, “Now go on and give me all the details you left out of your letter....”
For a time Anne obliged her, recounting her days at Painswick Court and especially the night in the cell. Fanny listened with rapt attention, only interrupting to ask clarifying questions.
Anne had not planned to mention any details about how Mr. Dalby had died, nor the subsequent inquest, postmortem, and hearing. But Fanny pressed her, wishing to know all, so Anne reluctantly shared everything.
Eventually, as Anne talked herself out, the door to the Parish Room opened and Mr. Norton walked a young man out, hand on his shoulder, murmuring a comforting admonition to send him on his way.
When the door closed behind the caller, Anne’s brother-in-law came and stood on the threshold of his wife’s domain.
He lifted a placating hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t intrude. Just wanted to greet our sister.” He bowed to her. “How do you do, Anne. I am sorry I was not able to meet you when you arrived.”
Anne rose and gave him a warm smile and a curtsy. “That’s all right. A pleasure to see you now.”
“Do come in, Stephen,” Fanny said. “There is more tea and we would enjoy your company. Would we not, Anne?”
Anne looked at her sister in some surprise. “We would indeed.”
She glanced back at Mr. Norton and saw him looking similarly stunned.
He gathered himself and replied, “With pleasure, my dear.”
And the hopeful, smitten smile on his face nearly broke Anne’s heart.
28
Afew weeks later, Anne received a letter from Miss Lotty reminding her that her room in Yew Cottage was ready and waiting whenever she wanted to come back. Lotty also wrote that she missed her, as did several other people in Painswick—one in particular. Anne could guess whom she meant. Whatever Lotty’s motives, Anne realized she was ready to return, so she wrote back to accept the invitation.
The following week, Anne traveled back to Yew Cottage. Her father brought her in the gig, helped carry in Anne’s things, and then stayed for tea. He and Lotty talked of old times, and of Anne’s mother. It was a poignant pleasure to hear stories and remembrances of her dear mamma from two people who had loved her so well.
Eventually, her father thanked Miss Lotty for her hospitality to him and to his daughter, rose, and took his leave.
Anne bid him farewell and had just waved him on his way when she spied Dr. Finch striding across the churchyard with his medical bag, out on some important call. Noticing her, he stopped in his tracks and raised a hand. She waved back and was surprised and pleased when he diverted his courseand jogged toward her, nearly colliding with a passing cart in his hurry.
Anne held her breath, unsure what to expect. He seemed so eager she thought he might throw his arms around her or pick her up and swing her around.
Instead, he said, “Oh good. You’re back.” He paused, trying to catch his breath. “I know you’ve just returned, so I hate to ask, but might you assist me at the poorhouse? I told you about Miss Cox and her mother, did I not? I’ve helped them a few times now, and Miss Cox just let me know two new families have arrived there, with a few children who need medical care. One with cuts and bruises, another with mumps and perhaps dysentery. I know it all sounds awful, but—”
“Not at all.”
