Freddie gazed worshipfully at his new champion, and the conversation resumed.
"Where is Anne?" Prudence asked of no one in particular. "I wanted you to meet her, Fitz. She is very nice and very pretty, though I should not say so. She makes me feel quite the beanpole, all arms and legs. Why could I not have been petite like her?"
"Well, you are quite elegant, you know," Bertrand said diplomatically. "It's hard for a female to be elegant, Prue, when she is little."
"And she is such a good actress," Prudence continued, flashing him a smile. "You would never believe it, Fitz, but she has never even seen a play before. And she is easily our best player. She puts all the rest of us in the shade, except perhaps Perry, who is so funny. I thought my sides would burst from laughing this morning. Where is she, anyway? Do you know, Alex?"
"She tore the hem of her dress earlier while climbing a tree," Merrick said. "I escorted her to her room ten minutes or so ago to change."
"Climbing a tree!" Miss Fitzgerald exclaimed in a strident voice, pulling her attention free of Freddie.
"One of Stanley's children kicked a ball up into it," Jack explained, "and Anne was brought to the rescue." He grinned at the serious figure of Merrick, seated beside Prudence.
Anne had changed already and had sent Bella away to mend the hem of the damaged dress. She now wore a thin woollen dress of pale blue, one of her favorites. It fell straight from a high waistline and had a high round neckline. Its long sleeves were close-fitting. It was a very plain dress, and it accentuated her slimness. It was warm, at least. She had felt thoroughly chilled outside, dressed only in the flimsy muslin, without even a shawl to keep her arms warm.
She should go down. Through her open window she had heard loud voices and laughter. The visitors had obviously arrived. But she hated making a grand entrance. It had sounded as if they had all come inside. They were probably in the drawing room, and there was no way she could enter without attracting the attention of all of them. She sighed. How awful it was to have been born with such a large share of self-consciousness. It would not be so bad, perhaps, if Jack would not be there. But one could not expect Jack to miss such a large and boisterous social gathering. He was proving to be quite troublesome. Could he not see that she was not interested in his flirtation? Probably not. He was a handsome man, almost as good-looking as Alexander, in fact. She doubted that many women had rejected his advances in the past.
And if only Alexander would not be there… But, of course, he would be. These visitors had been the playmates of his childhood. Anne brushed furiously at the wool skirt of her dress, removing imaginary pieces of lint. Nine days still to go before she could be at peace from him again. If only she could avoid seeing him in that time. It was a ridiculous wish, of course. Even if she could avoid him in the ordinary course of a day, she would have to see him at mealtimes. And she had to look at him, talk to him, touch him, even kiss him during the very frequent rehearsals.
And there were always the nights. She could not avoid him then if he chose to come to her. She had no right to lock her door against him. And he had come each night-even last night, after their harsh words during the afternoon. He had been very late. She had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, it had seemed, before he had come. He had not had a candle with him, or lit one when he arrived. He had not said a word, either, but had merely undressed beside the bed, undressed her, and made love to her slowly and silently. She had reached new heights of ecstasy with him, and he must have felt her last cry of release coming; he had absorbed the sound into his open mouth, which had stayed on hers until they had both utterly relaxed. As had become usual with her, she had burrowed her head into the warmth of his shoulder and slept.
Many things had not changed, but Anne had. Something had happened to her as she sat on the floor of the ballroom the day before, clasping her knees and staring at her husband's back as he sat across the room from her studying his part. People do not generally change all in a rush, but something had snapped in Anne as she sat there. Did she really love this man who was her husband but who was in all essential ways a stranger to her? Did he have the right to make of her an abject, cringing creature, who was beginning yet again to doubt her own worth? Was she going to allow him completely to dominate her life? Was he worthy of her love?
Ten minutes can be a long time when one has nothing to do but sit and examine the state of one's life. Anne had come to the conclusion that her love for Alexander was a purely physical thing. She liked his appearance. In fact, she could not name one imperfection in either his face or physique. He was every woman's dream of a perfect man. She had no one with whom to compare him as a lover, but she was quite convinced that the world could not provide her with a man who could give her greater satisfaction. She admitted that her love for him had really dated from their wedding night and that the last few nights had been the happiest of her life. She dared not think of what the nights would be like when she returned alone to Redlands.
But having admitted as much to herself, she had tried to think of any other way in which she loved her husband. There was nothing. He had never shown her any kindness but had, in fact, often been unnecessarily cruel. He had been deliberately and brutally insulting the morning after their wedding and had left her for more than a year in a home that he obviously disliked himself. He had refused to allow her to visit Sonia or to come here for the two weeks with his grandparents. He had not spoken a kind word to her since his arrival. Yet he did not even have the integrity to leave her entirely alone, but must come to her each night, to degrade her, she supposed.
No, Alexander certainly did not deserve her love. And he did not deserve her respect. Her decision had been made during those ten minutes. He was her husband. She could not disobey him. She could not deny him whatever he demanded of her. But she was not going to allow him to destroy the very fragile sense of worth that she had built so painfully in the year and few months since he had abandoned her. He could use her, he could insult her, but she would not allow him to break her.
In future, he would not find her so docile and so inclined to be teary-eyed before him. She would live out the nine days. She would enjoy looking at Alexander while she acted with him, and she would enjoy making love with him at night-she was not going to try to pretend to herself that she found his attentions distasteful. And when the nine days were over, she would go back to Redlands and concentrate on making the inside of the house as beautiful and as tasteful as she had made the gardens. She would make it her home and live contented with the respect of the servants and the admiration of the neighbors. She would be known as Anne Stewart of Redlands, Viscountess Merrick. And she would not in any way be in her husband's shadow. He was almost unknown there.
Anne raised her chin and looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, she decided, she even felt like a great lady already. She did not need Alexander; she did not even like him. And she certainly did not have to feel self-conscious about walking into a room where he happened to be. She swept resolutely from her bedchamber and down to the drawing room to join the guests.
"Do be a sport, Anne," Jack was saying later that evening after rehearsals were over for the day. "It is a beautiful evening, far too lovely to waste indoors. And you cannot accuse me of trying to seduce you, you know. Stanley and Celia, Freddie and Connie are coming too. But, you see, when there are three males and two females, one of those males has to walk alone. And I fear that fate will be mine if you refuse to save me from the ignominy."