His smile faded, and he glanced away, into the bare limbs of the trees stretching into the wintry sky.
Annis said, “James?”
He cleared his throat, something she hadn’t heard him do in a long time. “I’m sorry, Annis, but I—it seemed best to—”
“James! You haven’t told her!”
He looked ahead to the curving drive where it wound through the trees, their silvery limbs laid bare by winter. “It doesn’t matter, Annis,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter! Of course it matters.”
She was watching his profile, and she saw his chin jut in a way that reminded her of her father. Of herself, for that matter. It made him look older. Harder.
He said in a grim tone, “It’s my problem now, Annis. It falls to me to save Seabeck, not to my mother. The decisions will have to be mine, no matter how difficult.”
She chewed her lip, contemplating this. “You mean about the London house.”
“The London house, the High Point parcel, and more. There’s no way out of it.” He drew a ragged breath through his nostrils. “Seabeck will never be what it was, I fear, but it will survive. I mean to see to it.”
She reached out and put her gloved hand on his sleeve. “We’ll see to it together, James.”
He looked at her then, his autumn-hazel eyes glistening in the thin sunshine. “I’m grateful you’ll be at my side, Annis, but I warn you—it may not be easy.”
She smiled affectionately at him. “Any task is easier when shared, I believe.”
“Indeed.” He smiled back. “Easier when shared.”
“I do hope your mother won’t resent me, James. You could have married a real heiress, one with a decent settlement, one who could have saved you all of this trouble.”
“I could have done that, it’s true.” He grinned, and the look of worry left his eyes. “But she wouldn’t have been you, Miss Annis Allington. I should never have been happy!”
Annis had spoken to her father about the subject of her dowry, but he had been unmoved. “Proves he really wants you,” he said. “Never liked Frances putting you on the market that way.”
“You didn’t stop her from doing it.”
“I got tired of her complaints.”
“You were willing to let me be married off just to make her happy?”
He said, as he had before, “You had to marry someone.”
It was the same old argument, and she didn’t have the energy to pursue it. Her father had a reputation for being tight with money, and in the past, she had admired it. Now—she didn’t care so much for herself, but she could see the weight that lay on dear James’s shoulders, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to lighten it.
It was a busy time. She was occupied from morning till night, either with Harriet in the herbarium, entertaining James, or dealing with the issue of a trousseau.
One of the first things Lady Eleanor had done, upon learning that Annis no longer had a maid, was to engage one for her. She knew well how to go about these things, quickly producing a woman of middle age called Myra, already trained by an elderly lady in Manhattan. Myra was a marvel with a sewing needle, quick with a cup of tea or broth or cocoa when it was needed, and willing to travel across the Atlantic with her new young mistress. She took on the task of supervising the trousseau, and Annis surrendered all decisions regarding clothes, lingerie, shoes, and hats to her.
The idea came to her one afternoon, bursting into her brain all at once, like one of the fireworks going off over the park in the summer. Simmering with suppressed excitement, Annis persuaded Myra to go to the milliner’s shop without her. It would give her a couple of hours of freedom. Lady Eleanor was resting. James, at her father’s invitation, had gone in the carriage to visit the Allington Iron Stove Factory. She could be alone.
She had no herbarium, of course. She had only her corner of Mrs. King’s pantry, though she hadn’t used it in months. She hurried there now and found her space as tidy as ever, her stores of herbs and ointments still in their jars. Of course she had a great deal still to learn, but she had been working with Harriet nearly every day since their return. She thought she knew enough to do this one small thing.