“Why are you just standing there,” Christian asked, lowering himself back into his seat. “Pick a book and start reading to me. Hopefully your voice will not annoy me.”

With slow trembling fingers, Anna began to look at the titles, trying to find one that she hoped would interest him. As she began to pull out a volume of Lord Byron’s work, she heard Lord Christian heaving a heavy sigh.

“Not Byron, he just runs on and on!” he said. “Please tell me you have better taste than that.”

Quickly she pushed the book back into place and moved on. Finally she came upon a collection of Lord Thurlow and taking it from the shelf she heard no complaints. Anna walked to the window to have a seat in the sunlight.

“Will you join me here Lord Beauchamp?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I will sit here and see if your voice is worth my moving.”

“Very well,” she said, and clearing her throat she began to read.

“O thou brave ruin of the passed time,

When glorious spirits shone in burning arms,

And the brave trumpet, with its sweet alarms,

Called honour at the matin hour sublime,

And the grey evening; thou hast had thy prime,

And thy full vigor, and the sating harms

Of age have robbed thee of thy warlike charms,

And place thee here, an image in my ryhme;

The owl now haunts thee, and, oblivious plant,

The creeping ivy, has o’er-veiled they towers;

And Rother, looking up with eye askant,

Recalling to his mind thy brighter hours,

Laments the time, when, fair and elegant,

Beauty first laughed from out they joyous bowers!”

When she reached the end of the passage, she stopped to see if he wished her to continue.

“Would you like me to read more, my lord?” she asked after a long pause.

Hearing nothing, she asked again, “Would you like me to read more Lord Beauchamp?”

Again he didn’t answer. Fearing she had angered him with her choice, Anna stood and placed the book on the seat where she had been sitting and walked towards the dark corner where Lord Christian was seated.

“Why did you choose that poem?” said his voice with a deep growl.

Anna could hear him moving in the darkness.

“I have always been fond of Lord Thurlow’s work,” she said. “I committed several of his poems to memory before my father sold his collection. Would you like me to read another?”

“That is enough reading for today,” he said a little softer. “Go now, and tell Agnes to come and see me.”

“Yes, Lord Christian,” Anna said with a deep curtsy.

Anna moved to replace the book on the shelf when Christian spoke.

“Anna,” he said gently. “Take the volume with you if you like, and please just call me Christian. I may have the title, but I am no lord.”

“Yes sir,” she said with a nod, retrieving the book and hugging it tightly to her chest.

“Christian,” she said softly, her hand on the door. “I know I am not as accomplished as some, but I could learn if you like… if it would make you happy.”

“Why would you care if I am happy?” Christian asked, his curiosity peaked.

“I wish everyone happiness,” Anna said, her voice a little more than a whisper.

“Then you wish too much,” he replied firmly. “For some of us, happiness will always be denied.”

“I don’t believe that,” Anna said, moving back into the room. “I can’t. I have to believe that there is enough happiness for everyone in the world.”

“Then my dear,” Christian replied with a heavy sigh, “you are a greater fool than I thought possible.”

Anna felt as if he’d struck her a physical blow.

Her entire life her father and sisters had called her foolish and stupid, they’d done everything in their power to knock her down, both physically and mentally, but this was her chance for a new life and she wasn’t going to start it by letting another person push her down.

“I am not a fool,” she whispered angrily as she fled the room.

“What?” he asked empty air.

Christian fell back into his chair, brooding and angry. Yesterday he’d been distracted by Anna’s kindness, not seeing her as a person. This morning, in the light of day he could see that she was nothing special at all, just a silly girl with silly dreams

In the hall Anna ran into Melissa, nearly knocking the girl over. Agnes was with her, both women had worried looks on their faces.

Barely muttering an apology, she kept moving trying to find a way out of the manor, trying to find fresh air.

“I don’t think that went well,” Agnes said, her voice pensive.

“I would agree ma’am,” Melissa breathed.

“Follow her,” the housekeeper ordered, turning to enter the study. “Make sure she doesn’t get lost or hurt. Take her back to her room. I will tend to her after I have spoken with Lord Beauchamp.”

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