The Perfect Finish

Chapter Three - The First Stage

The end came quietly.

An evening meal, just the three of them. Her trunk was taken down, full to the brim with new belongings. Beautiful dresses, white and pink and silver. Delicate lace and muslin. Gloves of silk and napkins embroidered with roses.

Mrs Rosewood insisted she leave her riding clothes behind. They sat folded in her drawer on the final night, alone.

In her room after dinner, the sight struck her like a slap in the face.    Anna blinked her vision clear and swallowed hard.

These were good clothes. Navy blue, the best colour for hiding  damp and dirt and horsehair, business-like and perfectly fitted. Practical and warm and safe. Even now, after washday, the smell of horses sat in the folds.

Anna took a deep breath and looked out the window. 

This was the last sunset ever, from this window, because she was going to be married from London. That was her stepmama's plan. 

"No gentleman will want you if he has to come out here."  Mrs Rosewood insisted. "No, Mrs Cosgrove agrees. You will be married out of her house. We can come to you."

The new Mrs Rosewood came from Edinburgh. And she had always wanted to see London. 

Anna wondered. Would she like her new husband?

"Of course you will!" Mrs Rosewood had snapped when she questioned it one day. "You'll choose him, remember!"

Anna smiled again at the thought. So many men, just ready to tumble into marriage with a country girl like her?

And Mrs Rosewood's voice spoke again in her thoughts. "You are an heiress.  Remember that, Anna. You might be out of society up here - and your skin does have the taint of outdoors - but your prospects are very respectable. Good birth and a secure fortune is all that anyone can require."

No. She couldn't imagine her future spouse.

Westmorland was bleak this evening. Despite new leaves on the trees, despite bright splashes of new flowers, it was a bleached landscape white with cold. Sodden snowclouds dropped lower and lower till the treetops were hidden.  At this time of year, even when the clouds cleared the rain was never far away. The grazing sheep looked dirty and cold; the cattle were angular, their heads huddled into their shoulders against the wind.

That wind whistled round the house, creaked branches and rattled glass. It sang down the chimney. Long and low, the mournful cry of winter in Westmorland. 

She slept.

A loud clatter pulled her from deep sleep. Sukie, dressed for a journey and making noise with the fire on purpose.  The maid was an insubstantial black mass in the firelight. The air felt like ice against her face.  

The frost must be heavy. 

Sukie chattered while Anna ate breakfast in bed.

"Ned Robbins is bringing the small carriage round at seven of the clock, and Mrs Rosewood asks that we be down and waiting." Sukie examined Anna's clothes as she lay them on the bed. "Tom Harrold says it'll be nigh cold all day today. He thinks we'll hit a wind when we top the Cradle and be in it till we come into Cumberland. Timothy Shean has given orders the covers are to stay on the horses, and he gave Ned his own oilskin to keep him warm, and Cook has loaned him the fur-lined gloves her boy left here on his last visit. We be plannin' to reach Barlclough Inn for a bite in the late morning, but Cook gave Ned a basket to nibble on, in case we run behind time."

It was all very well to drag her heels, but hardly fair on Ned and the poor horses. Anna splashed water onto her face and slipped into travelling clothes. Time to go.