Without providing a reason, she had advised Mr. Mason of their intent to return to the city and asked that he not renew the lease on the house at the end of September. She’d also asked him to recommend some suitable rental accommodation should she need it before the house was vacated. Writing the letter had been a lesson in regret and disappointment, her smudged signature due to a sneaky tear that had dodged a swipe of her hand and splashed onto the paper.
Yes, indeed. The last couple of days had been unsettling. It didn’t help that Annie’s emotions ranged from dizzying happiness to regret and confusion. Grief, too, was still very much in residence. Leaving Ferndale would certainly be a wrench on her heart, for she’d come to love the place. But something about Janet’s sudden change of mood was troubling. Annie had the distinct impression things had been left unsaid, and she feared the situation might deteriorate further. That being so, she’d endeavored to keep conversation light and polite, avoiding any mention of her Monday arrangement with Julian Northcott. It was akin to walking on eggshells. And she wearied of it.
Now, on this quiet Sunday evening, Annie found herself alone in the kitchen with Hattie and asked a question that had been niggling her for the past three days.
“Do you think Janet will allow Mr. Northcott entry to the house tomorrow? I feel obliged to ask, since it seems clear she does not approve of him.”
Hattie looked at Annie as though she’d grown an extra head. “Well, of course she’ll allow him entry! Good grief, child, must I keep telling you? Things are not as they seem. Janet is merely… well, let’s just say, recent events have stirred up some painful memories, that’s all.”
“Painful memories you won’t share with me.”
“Because it is not my place to do so.”
“Which leaves me with little choice but to make assumptions.”
Hattie heaved a sigh. “Just don’t misjudge her, pet. She wants only your happiness, as do I.”
“Not the impression she gave me at Myddleton House last Thursday.”
“You may have misinterpreted her meaning. Anyway, we’ve already been over this. Now, since you haven’t mentioned it at all, I must ask. Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”
Annie suppressed a sudden shiver of excitement. “I can hardly wait.”
“How long will the fellow be staying at Myddleton House?”
Annie felt a touch of pleasurable warmth in her cheeks. “If you mean Julian Northcott, he’ll be staying till this Wednesday, I believe.”
“Yes, well, don’t imagine for a moment the two of you will be galivanting all over Derbyshire without a chaperone,” Hattie said, raising a brow. “Who happens to be me, by the way.”
Annie frowned. “Once again, Hattie Henshaw, you forget yourself. You’re welcome to make suggestions and recommendations for my consideration, but you have no right to give me orders or tell me what to do.”
“I am fulfilling a promise I made to your mother, young lady, and that was to ensure your safety and well-being. When it comes to your spending time with a man—anyman—that promise preempts any and all of your arguments against it.”
Annie scoffed. “Are you suggesting Julian Northcott is a threat to my honor?”
“Not unless he argues against my intent to chaperone. Should that be the case, then yes, I would absolutely see him as a threat, for it would imply your honor is of no concern to him.”
Annie opened her mouth to respond, but could not, in truth, argue with Hattie’s logic. “Oh, very well,” she said. “But will you at least try to be polite?’
Hattie’s eyes widened. “What on earth do you mean? I’m always polite.”
The outer kitchen door opened and Janet, with Ruffy at her heels, stepped inside carrying a basket of freshly dug carrots. “It’s a bit chilly out there tonight.” She set the basket on the table and looked from Hattie to Annie. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No, not at all.” Annie bent to pet the dog and then rose to her feet. “I was just about to go to bed.”
“But it’s barely eight o’clock,” Janet said, mildly. “I thought we might spend some time at the piano. It’s been a while since we had amusical evening.”
“Now, that’s a lovely idea. Don’t you think so, Annie?” Hattie gave her a pleading look. “I can make some cocoa for us.”
Ready to offer up an excuse, Annie opened her mouth but hesitated and instead summoned up a smile. She doubted she’d be sleeping much that night anyway. “All right, yes,” she said, nodding. “It is a lovely idea.”
A little more than two hours later, Annie clambered into her bed, turned down the lantern, and snuggled beneath her blankets. The eveninghadbeen pleasurable, entertaining, and also surprising. This wasn’t the first musical evening she’d enjoyed at Ferndale, so she was fully aware Janet played the piano, What she hadn’t been aware of, till tonight, was that Janet could also sing, and quite beautifully as well.
In any case, a semblance of harmony, other than the musical kind, seemed to have been restored beneath the house’s ancient eaves. And that meant Annie could devote her entire focus to the morrow and what it might bring. How could she possibly hope to sleep? Yawning, she closed her eyes, snuggled deeper into her covers, and hugged herself, imagining it was Julian Northcott who held her.
When next she opened her eyes, it was to the sound of Lancelot’s unmelodious racket from outside her window… and a song from the kitchen. Annie, shocked she’d actually slept the night away, rubbed her eyes and stretched out beneath her covers. She frowned slightly, for the song Janet was singing sounded vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it. In the next moment, however, both Lancelot’s crowing and Janet’s song were totally disregarded. Monday had arrived, which meant Julian Northcott would be calling on her that afternoon.
With a squeak of delight, Annie scrambled out of bed, pulled the curtains aside, and pushed the window open. “Perfect,” she whispered, gazing out at a clear dawn sky infused with the rosy glow of sunrise. “Absolutely perfect.”
