Janet exchanged a glance with Hattie. “What kind of encounter?”
“A rather unpleasant one,” Annie replied. “You’re right, Hattie. I’ve had a narrow escape.”
“Uh oh.” Hattie’s hand paused over the tea caddy. “I have a feeling I don’t want to hear this.”
“Probably not, but you have to,” Annie replied, and proceeded to recount her meeting with Leopold, softening the more unpleasant details of it substantially. Even so, their response was, as expected, a combination of remorse, horror, and indignation.
“Well, there’ll be no more walking out alone, young lady,” Hattie said, scowling as she set the teapot on the table. “At least not until this scoundrel is captured or, better yet, pronounced dead. Till then, he remains a threat.”
“Which is why Julian will not risk a church ceremony,” Annie said. “He fears an interruption, hence the need for privacy.”
“It makes sense, of course.” Janet cocked her head. “Are you disappointed, love?”
Annie tutted and shook her head. “Mama, I’m to be married in a private chapel located in an historic house which sits on the edge of the Yorkshire moors. In my opinion, that exceeds the Westminster Abbey option by miles. Truth is, I’d marry Julian Northcott in a barn if that had to be the case. As for walking out alone, he made me promise I wouldn’t. Twice, actually.” She smiled at the memory. “Anyway, as you can see, I am perfectly fine, so do you think we might set all this unpleasantness aside for now and enjoy the rest of our day together?”
“Yes, of course.” Janet folded her arms atop the table and leaned forward. “So, what would you like to do? Piano? Card games? A jigsaw puzzle?”
“Actually, I wondered if I might spend some time learning more about my parents’ families,” Annie said, taking her mother’s hand. “If that’s all right with you.”
A slight flush crept into Janet’s cheeks. “Why, Annie, that’s a lovely idea.”
“Well, I’m going to do some baking,” Hattie announced. “Specifically, a batch of biscuits for my future nephew-in-law. He told me they were the best he’d ever had.”
*
Annie went tobed that night with a sense of fulfillment, as if all the loose pieces of her life had been gathered up and put into order, a puzzle complete. Well, almost. One piece of the puzzle was missing. Without it, she could not sit back and take joy in what lay before her. A touch of resentment had her frowning into the dark. Even now, wherever he was, Leopold De Witte was influencing her life. Influencing Julian’s decisions abouttheirlives.
Would it ever cease? The answer surely lay in Hattie’s words, which drifted back to her.At least not until this scoundrel is captured or, better yet, pronounced dead. Till then, he remains a threat.
Annie gave herself a mental shake and shifted her focus back to the pleasures of the day and her future journey to Highfield Hall. Allowing her thoughts to wander, she closed her eyes. When next she opened them, it was to Lancelot’s piteous clamor. And, to her mild surprise, she realized how much she’d missed it.
Chapter Thirty
Highfield Hall wasnot nearly as palatial as Myddleton House. As Julian had described, it was an intriguing hodge-podge of renovations representing several eras. But, from its beautiful, coffered ceilings to its creaking wood floors, Highfield possessed a wealth of character that Annie had not felt at Myddleton. The deep sense of history and the lingering impression of past lives was as tangible as the air in her lungs. Having arrived with Julian, not even two hours ago, she could hardly believe this incredible place was to be her future home. It was a fairytale reality, yet to be fully grasped.
The welcome Annie received allayed any residual nervousness. Captain and Mrs. Northcott had been gracious, the twins enthusiastic. And then, of course, there were Georgie and Mr. Darcy, who looked uncannily like replicas of Ruffy, and followed the twins everywhere. “It is a match made somewhere other than Heaven,” Julian quipped. “I cannot believe I agreed to it.”
Arthur, meanwhile, had gone off to boarding school the week before, but would be returning, briefly, to attend the wedding.
The most poignant introduction of the day had been to Grace’s brother, the uncle Julian had told her about the day they’d visited the Roman ruins. Annie had been warned that to look upon the man’s face was not for the faint of heart.
“I grew up in a physician’s household,” she said. “I’m not without some knowledge ofsickness and injury.”
It was, indeed, a shocking disfigurement, much worse than Annie had envisaged. Yet she felt neither fear nor revulsion. Rather, she found herself seeing a courageous man whose fight had continued long after the war was over. His one functioning eye was a brilliant blue, a family trait obviously passed on to Josiah. While he showed no awareness whatsoever of Annie’s presence, his face lit up at the sight of Grace. Annie thought it said much about the Northcott family that, despite the man’s disabilities, they’d chosen to keep him near, rather than placing him in a dreadful mental institution somewhere.
Finally, Julian had brought Annie here, to Highfield’s private chapel, where they were to be married. It was a serene space, perfect for contemplation, prayer, or the exchange of holy vows between two people entering into marriage.
Two small lancet windows, one on each side of the altar, gave entry to daylight. Bare sandstone walls of a soft golden hue supported a vaulted stone ceiling. A stark white altar-cloth, edged with several inches of fine lace, draped gracefully over the top of the intricately carved, wooden altar. A marble cross, as white as the cloth upon which it sat, and edged in gold, served as the simple but exquisite centerpiece.
“What do you think, Annie?” Julian asked, folding his arms. “It’s somewhat bare at the moment, but will no doubt be decorated for the wedding. I don’t suppose you happen to know anything about flower arranging, do you?”
Annie, who had been absorbed in the serenity of her surroundings, stifled a bubble of laughter. “I think it’s beautiful,” she replied, mouth twitching. “And you, sir, are incorrigible.”
Grace, who had accompanied them, chuckled. “Personally, I’m delighted the chapel is to host a wedding. It’s almost fifty years to the day since the last one, being that of my parents. There were almost a hundred guests at my wedding, so using the chapel wasn’t an option. Not that I’m complaining. Our day was perfect, as I’m sure yours will be.”
“How many guests are we expecting, Mama?” Julian asked.
“Twenty-two, I believe. I’ll go over the list again this evening and the invitations will be sent out tomorrow.” She glanced about. “Plenty of room. The chapel seats thirty comfortably.”
