I Will be Quiet

I’m sorry miss, but the master’d like to speak with you.

It’s not wholly unusual, Anna thinks, passing by the extravagant paintings through the dark wooden halls. He is after all, her employer and father of her charges. They speak all time. But this feels different somehow.

Anna shakes her head, trying to dislodge such ridiculousness from her mind. This unquietness within her is only from her meeting with the man, as she’s taken to calling him. She’s since learned from the gossipy maids that his name is Robert Hall, but she’s decided to continue calling him the man, with a sneer... at least in her head.

Since her introduction to him she’s felt like a silly schoolgirl, wanting to go cry beneath her covers. Which is precisely what he wanted her to do, so she refuses to do it. And if she’s so unlucky as to cross paths with him again, she’s decided to merely greet him coldly with her head held high and move on.

Life is much too short to put stock into what cruel, arrogant strangers think of you.

She knocks timidly on Master Marriott’s office door before entering into the warm room. He sits casually in his chair behind his desk, attention at first only for his papers. But once he hears her steps he peers up, welcoming and kind as ever.

“Anna! You’re here, wonderful.”

She can’t help but return his smile, infectious as it is. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, yes. Please,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

The setting sun has turned the sky a brilliant shade of pink and purple through the large window behind him, a perfect backdrop to his dark hair and light features, like one of his beloved paintings she thinks.

She’s not too good to admit an attraction to him, only a blind woman would not see his beauty. All the maids, and even the old housekeeper, speak of their handsome master. But of course, she has never been anything but appropriate around him, and he around her. She’s not so stupid as to risk her employment over a crush. Even if he is handsome and sweet, and dotes on his children.

“Anna,” he begins, breaking her from her thoughts. “I would like John to join us tonight.”

She frowns, confused. “Sir?”

“I think it’s time for him to begin learning about how to interact with the ton, yes?”

“But he’s only a child,” she splutters. “Surely, it’s early yet?”

His fingers lace together atop his desk, leaning forward a bit. “Perhaps, but he is a good boy. Thanks to you, a well behaved boy, but not one for much longer, I think.”

“He’s ten.” She’s at a loss to say anything else, surely pushing a boy, who’d much rather be tromping through mud and exploring the outside, to interact with stuck up nobs is not a good idea. No matter how well behaved he is.

“Exactly. Ten. High time. So he’ll be there, yes?”

She could do nothing but nod out of duty. “Of course, sir.” With nothing else, she stands, thinking of how sorry she is for a boy who would have to play the silly role of a little man in a room of vipers.

“Oh, Anna,” he calls, her hand on the door handle as she turns back. “It goes without saying, of course, but John is a boy still. And as his governess he will need you there.”

Fear shoots up her spine lightning fast, eyes going wide. “Sir, I can’t.”

“Can’t?” he asks, a mixture of worry and annoyance.

“I mean... I am only a governess, not a lady. I don’t belong there.”

“You belong wherever the children need you. And tonight, that will be with me, and my guests.”

All out of excuses, she drops her head, resigning herself to her fate. “I’ve nothing to wear.” She doubts her wardrobe of two drab grey dresses and one black would be appropriate for such an occasion.

“Oh, don’t worry. No one will be looking at you. Thank you, Anna.” He focuses back on his papers, squinting at them in the dying light. He should light a candle, she thinks numbly before walking out.

No one will be looking at you.

It wasn’t said cruelly, or with malice, Master Marriott is not that kind of man. But the coolness of it, the carelessness of how he said it, as if it were obvious how all but invisible she was, was as sharp as a dagger.

—————

The news was accepted by John and Mary as well as Anna expected. Which is to say, not at all.

After a never ending chorus of It’s not fairs, and Why him and not me, and But I don’t even bloody want to go. Anna finally got them settled down.

Mary, angry and forlorn in her bed, arms crossed over her sheets and a scowl so deep Anna was certain the girl was not going to fall asleep for some time.

And poor John, self conscious and uncomfortable in his fancy waistcoat and breeches. Like Mary and Anna, he’s silent and resigned, but her heart breaks for both of them. It’s silly, she thinks, not to mention dangerous. They’re not her children, only her charges. Ultimately, their fate is not in her hands. And while she’s always known this, she doesn’t think she’s ever really thought about it till just now. And it’s terrifying.

“Alright,” she says before leaning over Mary’s unhappy form. She dips to kiss her on the forehead, but the girl rolls away before she can. Anna settles instead on a caress of the girl’s blonde head. “Goodnight, poppet.”

John’s hand in hers, they make their way to the music room. She can hear the laughter and pianoforte from down the hall, something classical and melodious blending with a murmur of conversation. She thinks her anxiety is about to hit its own high note before she’s immediately held back from entering by John.

He says nothing, only looking up at her with blue eyes full of too much fear to speak. And that’s it, that’s all it takes for her to find her bravery - for him.

“I’ll be there the entire time, as will your father.”

“Promise,” he begs forcefully, “promise you won’t leave.”

Anna leans over, setting herself at eye level with him. “Promise.” It’s said with a true sincerity he recognizes, and she sees the fear melt away some. With a boop of his nose, she smiles at him, making him grin in return. “‘C’mon.”

The room goes silent when they enter, everyone watching them. Too full of nerves, Anna sees none of them.

“John!” Master Marriott strides towards his son with excitement, setting down his glass of scotch rather loudly before making his way over. “Come on, son.”

As Marriott takes John around to speak to various guests, Anna begins to feel more than a little awkward standing alone in the middle of the room. Finding a seat along a dark wall, she takes solitude in the shadows, watching with some fascination at the glint and gleam of the ladies’ gowns and jewelry in the warm candlelight.

The room glows orange with the firelight though, shadows dancing tall and misshapen along the walls like ghosts. She almost feels calm, at peace with the ease with which John seems to be engaging with others and how she’s being left alone.

No one does notice me, and it’s definitely for the better.

Then she shivers, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. Something’s wrong, though she can’t quite place her finger on what. Fingers twisting around each other in her lap, she tries to calm her nervous thoughts as she searches the room.

And then she sees him, eyeing her from across the way over the sea of heads between them. He stands beside the fire, one arm leaning on the mantelpiece and a foot resting on the grate. He’s all alone. In a room full of people, not a single one pays him any attention. For one silly moment she wonders if he’s a ghost. But no, he’s just a miserable man no one likes.

Well good, Anna thinks. She’s glad she’s not the only one to feel that way about him. Then she wonders why on earth Master Marriott invited him? Are they friends? Old acquaintances perhaps? No two men could be further apart in spirit.

His eyes, made bright by the fire, burn into her very being, as if she were the only soul in the room. So focused on her, she’d think he were a statue except for the periodic sips of his drink.

She swallows hard, throat closing in and breath becoming erratic. Then his eyes cut away to Marriott, smiling and jovial as ever as he tells a story, John happy by his side. The intensity with which Robert Hall stares at them almost rivals how he stares at her. Or perhaps he just looks at everyone that way.

For some reason, the thought makes her laugh, a soft chuckle breaking out unwarranted. She dips her head down, hiding her goofy smile. But then she feels his eyes on her again and cracks begin to form in her facade of strength.

She can’t handle this much longer, room closing in on her. The music is too somber, and the laughter is too loud, and the heat is becoming overwhelming as she struggles to breathe. And why does he keep staring at her.

She promised John she’d stay, but she has to get out now or she may very well pass out. To her relief, no one seems to notice as she makes her hasty escape, too caught up in their party.

Racing down the dim hall, she doesn’t stop until she’s alone, slamming a door behind her. Face turned up to the ceiling, she releases a heavy breath, and then another, feeling her heart slow to a not as dangerous pace. She sits in a leather chair, mindless for a long moment before she takes stock of where she is - Master Marriott’s office.

She blinks with shock. How was she able to enter she wonders, sure Master Marriott always kept it locked. Perhaps this is just the one time he did not.

No matter. I won’t be long.

When she feels sufficiently calmed she stands, making her way to the door on much steadier legs.

Hand paused on the handle, the echoing sound of footsteps in the hall has her heart racing all over again. She watches a shadow play beneath the doorway, praying for whoever it is to keep walking. But the steps go quiet, the shadow unmoving, until all there is between her and the stranger is a wooden door.

“Anna Smith. I know you’re in there.”