“Later ye must tell me exactly what my nephew has done to earn yer rebuff.” Clementine whispered just loud enough for the entire table to hear.
Ann kept her mouth shut for fear of sharp words.
“Ye needn’t be afraid of me, my dear. I’m quite outspoken, I am sure I don’t know how my dear William puts up with me.”
William, seated to Mrs. Archer’s left, lifted his wine glass in toast. “Blunt is the better word.”
Across from Ann, Ruby barely controlled a snicker.
“I’ve always thought it made for better relationships to just say what I mean. Get it out there. Then it can be dealt with—whatever it is.”
Bewildered, Ann smoothed the napkin over her skirt.
“Ye will get used to me,” Clementine tucked her voice a little lower.
Thank goodness. Mattie was so close. Ann glanced at her friend whose eyebrows were raised quite to her hairline.
Ann cleared her throat. “But what about people’s feelings? Don’t ye think one must moderate what one says in order to spare undo pain to others?”
“Of course, my dear. I said I was outspoken, I did not mean to suggest that I hurl insults at anyone unfortunate enough to cross my path. I just think that if there is a misunderstanding or something about which friends disagree, it’s best to make a bold and clean statement of the facts and clear up the mess. It’s too hard on the stomach otherwise.”
Clementine winked at her as Jacob claimed his seat. As outrageous as Reed’s aunt had first appeared, Ann found she agreed with Clementine. Certainly, between friends such a course would make sense. She’d tried to tell her mother that she would not marry Reed Archer. And after the display in the barn, she wasn’t sure she could make it through the twelve days of Christmas in his company. Her mother hadn’t listened. The only course left then was to take Clementine’s advice and speak to Reed herself. After all, they had been friends once. She peeked down the table to see him scowling back at her.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Clementine twinkled, “he can take it.”
Jacob leaned back, “Who can take what?”
“Never ye mind, Mr. Morgan.”
Jacob lowered his voice to Ann with amusement infused in his countenance. “Mrs. Foster is a known instigator.”
Ann smoothed the napkin over her skirt. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Of course ye wouldn’t.” Her anxiety evaporated in the warmth of conspiratorial laughter he offered.
~*~
Reed knew exactly what caused Annie to scowl at him. And here he sat at the head of the table, his mother at the foot. His mother, as adept as she was in the seating of guests, had managed to put the only person in whom he had any interest at the center of the table with his Aunt Clementine on her right. Which meant he could barely see her, let alone converse. He needed to explain what she’d seen. He could not forget the stricken look on her face before she’d run from the barn.
“…was it?”
Silence brought him back to the present. Hugh looked expectantly at him. The twinkle in Jacob’s observant eyes told him he’d seen too much already. “I beg yer pardon, Hugh.”
“No problems, I find myself a bit distracted in present company. Though I daresay ye had livelier company in London, eh?” The last bit he slipped in a low whisper. Not so low that questions didn’t appear in the ladies’ eyes to his left and right.
Reed allowed his impatience to show. “I am sure I don’t know what ye mean.”
“As ye say.” With a smirk, Hugh took a swallow of half his wine.
Reed had it coming. There was no earthly reason for any of them to expect better of him, but he wished again that his mother had not invited Hugh Pollard to Christmas.
Reed took a deep breath and cast his gaze around the table. Despite the unfortunate seating, before him sat all the people that meant the most to him in the world. For that, he found thankfulness welling in his heart. There would be time to speak to Annie. Time to find the answers to questions that poked him in quiet moments. Had she thought of him at all in the past five years? He filled his lungs again. It was Christmastide, and she would be here with him to celebrate the second greatest miracle in all of history.
“Griffen,” Reed called to his cousin sitting on the far side of Ruby, “it’s been an age. Tell us all what ye’ve been about this last year.”
Food came and went. Cold Virginia ham, roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, beans, squash, cherry pie, and his favorite apple brown betty. Reed couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so full. It blessed him to see that true to form, Ann supped well. She’d always had a healthy appetite and more energy than her colorless peers. He’d nearly forgotten her, but over the past year, as he changed his habits, her friendship came more and more to the front of his mind. He had every intention of exploring that spiritual leading, if in fact, it was a spiritual leading. He’d made a life-altering decision, and he’d no intention of going back on his word. Old ways wouldn’t do, he needed a wife. And except for the stricken look on her face when she’d encountered him by the barn, she was everything he thought his wife should be.
“Ladies, shall we?” Mrs. Archer stood.
The ladies followed her to the parlor.
“Gentleman, since we’ve been assured that there will be a spot of dancing, I know where I would rather be,” Hugh declared. He knocked Spooner and his bottle of port into the wall as he skirted out of the room. A few minutes later, Reed found his old friend surrounded by all the young ladies his mother had invited who were laughing at something he’d said.
Reed took up in the corner closest to the door, content with a full belly and a house full of good friends. He eyed Hugh. Well, mostly friends.
“Ye’ll never get a dancing partner with that look.” Jacob took a place next to Reed.
He relaxed. “Perhaps.” He cast a grin to his oldest friend. “I can’t begin to know what she was thinking to invite him here.”
“I’m sure she wanted to please ye. Hugh was a friend of ours.”
“Was.”
“Yes.”
“He was always up to something, and I have a feeling that hasn’t changed one bit.”
Reed slipped out the door when his mother called for her guests to repair to the hall for the evening’s entertainment.
