Nicola Cornick - The Chaperon Bride

Mindful of the heat of the day, Annis had discarded her evening blacks for a muslin gown in pale pink, with a straw hat with matching ribbons and a pale pink parasol. When she first appeared, Lucy’s eyes lit up like stars.

‘Why, Lady Wycherley, you look famously pretty!’

Fanny screwed up her hard little face. ‘You look too young to be our chaperon,’ she said disagreeably, and Annis, smiling widely, reflected that that was as close to a compliment as she was ever likely to get from Fanny.

It was a glorious day and the party was in high spirits as they set off. Lieutenants Norwood and Greaves kept up a flow of easy conversation with the girls, whilst Sir Everard sat reading his poetry and Annis looked out of the carriage window at the view. Howden was an attractive little village and there was a charming riverside path that ran along the bank under the dappled shadow of the willow trees. Fanny and Lucy chattered constantly, seemingly unimpressed by the natural beauty around them. Annis, having ensured that Fanny took Sir Everard’s arm rather than that of Lieutenant Greaves, was content to stroll along behind, enjoying the cool shade.

They reached a place where the bank opened out into a wide meadow. Lieutenant Greaves started to recite some poetry, in evident mockery of Sir Everard, who frowned at such levity and walked off on his own. The girls giggled. Annis turned away, irritated, and caught sight of a man standing beneath the weeping willows, gazing out across the water meadows to where the spire of a church cut the heat haze. At the sound of voices he turned impatiently and looked as though he was about to stride away. Then he checked. Annis, with a mixture of surprise and hastily repressed anticipation, recognised Adam Ashwick.

She hesitated. His stance was very much that of a person who wished to be left alone, but it seemed churlish to ignore him when it was obvious that they had recognised one another. After a moment she walked across to join him in the lee of the willows, and Adam sketched a slight bow.

‘How do you do, Lady Wycherley?’

Annis could not tell from his tone whether he was pleased to see her but she thought that probably he was not. She suspected that he was annoyed that she had brought a group of chattering youngsters to spoil the peace.

She tilted her parasol to shadow her eyes. The reflection off the water was blinding.

‘Good afternoon, Lord Ashwick. This is a beautiful spot.’

Adam Ashwick’s lips twisted into a smile. ‘It is indeed, Lady Wycherley. I often come her when I am looking for a little solitude.’

There was only one way to take that. Annis blushed and felt vexed, with him for his frankness and with herself for originally being pleased to see him when he so clearly wished to avoid company.

‘Then I beg your pardon for spoiling your retreat, sir.’

She made to walk away, but Adam put a hand on her arm. ‘Lady Wycherley. Forgive me, that was unconscionably clumsy of me. Will you not stay for a little?’

Annis hesitated. She had enough of an excuse to walk away if she wished, for Fanny and Lucy were now shrieking and running around in a most unladylike fashion. Lieutenant Greaves and Lieutenant Norwood were making impromptu boats from twigs and arranging a race down the river. Sir Everard stood a little apart, arms folded, looking disapproving. He had an unfortunate habit of looking down his nose, Annis thought. Even if he did not mean to appear superior, that was the effect it had. Within the light-hearted group he stood out like a sore thumb.

‘Please,’ Adam Ashwick said, persuasively, recalling her attention to him. ‘If there is anyone I would care to share the view with, it is you, ma’am.’

The blood fizzed beneath Annis’s skin as she blushed again under Adam’s appreciative scrutiny. ‘I am happy to rest a moment in the shade if I am not disturbing you, my lord,’ she temporised. ‘I may only be a moment, though.’

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