Not Chapter 7
I'll keep this short and sweet since you've all been waiting awhile for the next chapter. To my loyal fans, thanks guys for continuing to read (and review) even in my absence.
I received a PM from LivelyRose the other day which basically forced me to decide whether I'm continuing the story or not. I thank her for that and the answer is definitely yes. I have a new chapter in progress but there are some details concerning the books I found I'm fuzzy on. And for a while there reading "The Sweet Far Thing" totally killed my AGTB mojo. Seriously guys, have you read it? So now I'm going back to reread the first two books and get that back. You all can just go on with your lives and forget all about this story, that is until the message that the next chapter is up appears in your mailbox sometime in early September. Which, when you think about it really isn't that far away. Until then, eat, drink, be merry and pray that Kartik and Gemma will be reunited. And in the meantime I have a non spoilery (well at least not really) and very fluffy excerpt from something I was meaning to put in the story later, but you guys can have it as a one-shot sort of thing now!
Now that I think about it, that wasn't short and sweet at all. Oh well…
It is strange to be in London for the Christmas season again. But this time I am running with an older crowd. With Tom and Cecily at the height of society I would rather flee to Paris but Felicity's cousin Polly, who is attending Spence, much to her chagrin, has guilted her into staying for the holidays so she doesn't have to stay at the Worthington house all by herself. Captain Worthington is away at sea again and as usual sent large expensive gifts to the ladies of the household to make up for it. Felicity murmured something about it being "just like old times" when the hatboxes from him arrived but I could tell that she was hurt, and slightly relieved. Things between them haven't changed in my absence either.
Simon is also away, and even though I am in no danger of falling under his spell again, I am grateful that he's gone, remembering that he is fluent in French. It is hard to keep up the charade of being a Frenchwoman, in general and it will be especially hard tonight. Lady Middleton is holding a ball and of course asked politely (not that we had much of a choice in the matter without risking social leprosy) if we would attend. And since the Middleton's mansion will someday be hers Felicity took it upon herself to be immersed in all the planning, dragging Ann and me down with her.
The night of the ball is here and there is a tizzy of excitement, we're like schools girls again, tying each other's corsets as tight as possible and pinching cheeks so they glow pink. Ann seems the most excited which is strange because, even though I don't like to admit it, most of the men that will be here tonight wouldn't take a second glance at a lowly tutor. Felicity has tried to overcome that fact and with the dress that she's picked out for Ann there will definitely be a few more heads turning than usual. Her dress is made of blue satin with a paisley print, the blue bringing out the warmth in her brown eyes and with a few brushstrokes and sapphire hair pins also courtesy of Fee she's a quiet beauty.
The ball is swirling, the gaily colored dresses and striking black suits making a beautiful contrast in the large marble hall. I've been asked to dance at least ten times every half hour and am kept constantly on my feet. Most of the men are married but were classmates of Tom and Simon when we were younger, and can't help but flirt with the Parisian beauty when they wouldn't have given me a second glance when I was still just an English schoolgirl. I guess they weren't expecting the proper Englishwomen they married, former classmates of mine, to simply "lie back and think of England" and are rather frustrated. It's all good fun when they stumble over the little French they learned way back when and I giggle and flutter my eyelashes.
I wish I could see Kartik out here, twirling me around, laughter in his eyes a smile playing about his lips. I ache for my daughter and for him and the moment I can escape; when our plan can be put into action, I will do so. But for now I must let all of that fade to the background and put on a show.
My feet are getting more and more clumsy as I tire and finally I have to excuse myself (in French of course) and rush over to Fee, who is surrounded by her chosen few female companions, and a fair amount of male admirers of her purple satin, to whisper in her ear and ask her how to say "Will you get me a glass of punch" in French. She smirks at me and whispers the answer.
My dance partner, a blustery fellow with sweaty palms, but a jolly laugh, has disappeared and I decide to cool off and wander the house for a bit. Ann is nowhere to be seen but I'm not worried, when we came she had a fair amount of admirers herself.
I duck off into a side hallway and run my hands over flowered wall paper and along intricate brass frames of former Middleton heirs.
This building has a lot of memories and I think back to the last time I attended a ball here and what that Christmas had been like. The trouble with my father…I have learned that he insisted on going back to India, and after giving up the opium has become a part time missionary and is back to doing business with the locals. Luckily he moved his company out of Bombay and farther North so when we return there, and we will return, there will be no threat of running into him.
I still miss him terribly but am comforted by the fact that he is doing better than he was the last time I saw him, those years ago.
I turn another corner spy the door to the library, which is ajar and decided to take a peak inside. My hand is on the doorknob and I'm about to start humming the tune to the last waltz when the breath catches in my throat. I slowly back away and my head spins. I heard voices. Now I remember seeing Polly sneak away with a handsome blond lad earlier but these voices sound more familiar and out of place.
I ease back towards the door, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.
"Ann, you look gorgeous tonight." That voice, it can't be. I take a risk and put my eye up to the crack and see the most shocking sight of the night. It's my brother. My brother and Ann. There they are leaning against the bookshelf at the back of the room. His left arm is around her waist and her hand is on his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispers, and to my astonishment Tom bends down and kisses her. They're other arms wiggle their ways from being trapped against the bookshelf and Tom pulls her too him as she puts her other hand on his chest.
She breaks away, suddenly and I feel as if I'm reading one of the penny novels she was so obsessed with when she says "We can't go on doing this, Thomas! What about Alexandra? Why stay with Cecily if…" She fades out and I feel acutely sorry for \her. I can finish her sentence in my head, if you don't love her. If Tom is simply toying with her I'll have his guts for garters, but in the moment he seems sincere.
"I….I can't break it off with her Ann darling. You know that." He walks to where she's now standing in the middle of the room and grasps her hand; she leans back against him with a small sigh. This is a side of my brother I've never seen before. He's almost…sweet.
He turns her around then, and wraps his arms around her. She returns the embrace. I turn as quietly as possible and head back towards the ball room with all of the things that have happened with Ann since I arrived clicking into place. This is the reason that she can bear sharing that house with Cecily and those children everyday, the reason she has stopped hurting herself. Because the only thing that Ann has ever wanted is love and acceptance, and apparently, even after his snub of her that fateful Christmas season past, she has somehow found this in my brother.
'Kay guys, you can review this part if you want but it'll be back up whenever I get around to writing this chapter.
Hope to hear from you all in September.
Peace, Love,
Glitzy