Page 90 of Winterset

“It isn’t even just the children,” Anna told him. “The madness comes upon us late in life. Although my uncle showed only slight signs when he was in his twenties, the madness grew worse and worse as he got older. It could still happen to me. I could go mad, and then you would be saddled with an insane wife. I can’t do that to you. I couldn’t bear for you to see me like that.”

“And I cannot bear to live without you,” Reed snapped. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. And if you should go mad, then I will live with you mad.”

“That would only be a half life!” Anna argued.

“I would rather have a half life with you than years and years with some other woman. Bloody hell, Anna! I love you! And I am willing to take whatever comes.” His eyes flared with anger. “I think it is just that you are afraid. You don’t love me enough to marry me.”

“That’s not true!” she flashed back. “I love you more than anything. More than life itself. I love you to the very depths of my soul.” Tears clogged her throat, and she had to force out her last words, “And that is why I will not marry you.”

Anna turned and ran from the room.

“Anna, dammit!” Reed let out an oath and whirled, picking up the nearest object, a small lamp, and sending it crashing against the opposite wall. He stood for a moment, then turned and ran after her.

She was already running down the stairs, and Reed started after her, heedless of the startled gazes of his servants, many of whom seemed to have found some task that needed doing around the staircase. “Anna! Wait!”

Anna did not pause, but ran out the front door. By the time Reed reached the door, she was already mounted on her mare. She glanced back at him, and he saw her tear-streaked face. Then she dug her heels into her horse and was gone, leaving him staring after her.

* * *

By the time Anna got back to Holcomb Manor, the righteous anger that had sustained her at first had all drained away, leaving her feeling only an empty ache.

She knew that she had to stop seeing Reed. The situation was impossible. She had been living in a dream world, believing that somehow she could be with him and enjoy his company and not give in to her passions, but obviously that was not the case. Nor could she marry him. Despite what he had said, it would be wrong and cruel of her to tie him to a wife who might grow mad, a wife who could not give him children. He deserved so much more. Some other woman could give him that.

Anna tried to ignore the jealousy that gnawed at her when she thought of him marrying another, more proper, wife. She had to be reasonable, she told herself, and just because Reed was not adhering to reason, that was no excuse for her to abandon it. Indeed, she had to be reasonable for both of them.

When she reached her house, she ran up to her room and threw herself onto the bed to indulge in a good cry. Then she sat up and washed her face and rang for Penny to draw her a bath.

After a long soak in the tub, she got dressed and let Penny do up her hair, then went downstairs and started listlessly on her tasks. She found it difficult to concentrate, and the household problems she dealt with seemed inordinately petty.

She half expected Reed to come calling. He was not the sort of man to give up on something he wanted. She did not know how she could continue to refuse him when everything inside her yearned for exactly what he was offering. How could she be strong enough to deny them both the happiness they wanted?

She was in the midst of such gloomy thoughts late that afternoon, staring out the window at the garden, when she saw a figure moving through the trees toward the house. The day had turned as gray and dreary as her thoughts, and there was a fine mist in the air, obscuring the scene. Anna leaned closer to the window, peering out, her stomach tightening.

The man stopped at the edge of the garden, looking uncertainly toward the house. Anna’s eyes widened. It was Arthur Bradbury, her uncle’s manservant.

She walked quickly out of the room and down the hall to her brother’s study. “Kit. Arthur is here.”

“What?” He looked up from his work, his brow drawing together in confusion.

“Arthur Bradbury.”

“But what is he doing here?”

“I don’t know. But it must be important for him to leave…”

“Yes, of course. You’re right.”

Kit stood up. He had been working in his shirtsleeves, but now he picked up the light gray jacket from the arm of the chair across from his desk and shrugged into it as he followed Anna out of the room. “Where is he?”

“I saw him out among the trees at the edge of the garden. I think he must be waiting, hoping one of us will come out.”

Anna picked up her everyday bonnet from the coatrack by the back door and tied it on as they went outside and through the garden toward the trees beyond. As they drew closer, she could see Arthur’s large form beneath the trees. He was pacing anxiously, a frown on his face. His expression lightened when he saw Anna and Kit approaching him, and he swept off his cap as he stepped forward to greet them.

“Sir! Miss! I’m that glad to see you. I was just trying to think of a way to get your attention ’thout anyone seein’ me.”

“What is it?” Kit asked. “Is anything wrong with our uncle?”

Arthur shifted a little. “Fact is, sir, well, he’s missing, like.”