Simply Anna Read online

  She stepped down the stairs and into the entryway, turning when she heard someone clear his throat.

  Lord Philip stood with his arms folded across his chest, one shoulder leaning on a door frame. “’Pon my word, Miss Anna. If you’re not the loveliest sight I’ve seen in months.” The side of his mouth pulled in a smile. He stood straight, walking toward her. He lifted her hand and bowed over it. Though they both wore gloves, the warmth from his touch sent a wave of heat up her arm, straight to her cheeks.

  Anna dipped in a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Lord Philip did not release her hand but continued to study her.

  Anna wished her hair was loose and she could duck her face behind her curls. His scrutiny heated her cheeks further. She pulled her hand gently from his grasp.

  Lord Philip seemed to come to himself and took a step back. “Shall we wait for our guests in the drawing room?”

  Anna’s heart tripped at his wording. Our guests. She worried that she was becoming too attached to Oakely Park and even more to its owner. She knew the illusion was temporary, but it was so easy to imagine herself a permanent resident here. Her heart beat faster, and she glanced at the man next to her as she realized the implications of her thoughts, grateful he couldn’t see into her mind.

  Was there another man somewhere that she loved? Another who sent heat to her cheeks with his smile? She would feel differently, she was certain, once she remembered her own life, but for now, Anna found herself very much content with the made-up version.

  “They should arrive in ten minutes.” Lord Philip snapped his pocket watch shut. He led Anna to sofa and sat in an armchair across from her. One side of his mouth rose in the slow smile that made her pulse speed up. “So, until then, what shall we talk about?”

  ***

  An hour and a half later, Anna stood next to Lord Philip in the main hall as he welcomed his guests. Being a generous host, he gave no indication that he was annoyed with their tardiness. She curtsied when she was introduced to John Stapleton and again when she made the acquaintance of his daughter, Clarissa.

  Anna didn’t think Clarissa could have looked less pleased at the introduction if she had tried. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze moved slowly from the tip of Anna’s head to her toes and then back. She closed her eyes and curled her lip as if she could no longer bear the sight and turned her head toward Lord Philip. Anna felt like she’d been deemed supremely inadequate.

  When Betty announced dinner, Lord Philip turned to the group, opened his mouth, and then paused.

  Anna understood his dilemma right away. Since he did not know Anna’s parentage, he was unsure whether she outranked Clarissa. Who should accompany his lordship to dinner? She saw the indecision on his face as his eyes moved between the two ladies for an uncomfortable moment. Anna solved the quandary by stepping back and motioning with her head toward Clarissa.

  Lord Philip shot her a grateful look that she did not think anyone else noticed. He offered his arm to lead Clarissa into dinner.

  Clarissa snatched it and nodded once to the others, apparently quite proud of herself.

  Anna and Mr. Stapleton followed.

  In the dining room, Lord Philip sat at the head of the table. Anna sat on his left side and Mr. Stapleton on his right. Clarissa was seated next to her father, and she didn’t bother to hide the fact that the arrangement did not suit her. She folded her arms and pouted with a huff, sending her ringlets into a frenzy of bouncing around her doll-like face.

  Anna glanced at Philip, wondering what he thought about Clarissa’s behavior, but he politely pretended not to notice and commented instead on the sudden rain the day before.

  Betty and Ezekiel served the first course. Anna couldn’t help but be irritated. Betty had worked all day and then had to reheat the meal because the Stapletons were so inconsiderate and couldn’t be bothered with punctuality. She nodded her thanks to Ezekiel and had just brought a spoonful of sea-turtle soup to her lips when Clarissa set down her spoon with a clatter.

  “Lord Philip told us that you have no memory, Miss Anna,” Clarissa said.

  “Yes, Dr. Bevan believes the phenomenon to have been caused by an injury to the head.”

  Clarissa raised her gaze to Anna’s hair and then lowered her eyelids, tipping her head in an expression that left no doubt that she did not care in the least.

  “The doctor thinks the condition is temporary, Miss Stapleton,” Philip said. “He believes that eventually Anna should regain her lost memories.”

  Clarissa shot another glance at Anna and turned her body to face Lord Philip. “My lord, if I might be so bold—how can you be certain that she is who she claims to be?”

  Anna pulled back in her chair. She couldn’t believe anyone would speak so rudely about her while she sat in the same room.

  Philip leveled a gaze at Clarissa. “Well, she has not claimed to be anyone—the exact opposite in fact.”

  “What if she is a charlatan? Or a . . . spy?” She whispered the last word and glanced quickly at Anna. “What if she is loyal to the French?”

  Philip stared at Clarissa for a long moment. His expression seemed to waver between anger and amusement. “A spy at Oakely Park? If it is the case, she went to incredible lengths: exposing herself to the sun for days, wounding her head to the point that she nearly died of blood loss and dehydration in the hopes that someone would happen upon her and get her to a doctor in time to save her life.”

  Clarissa glared at Anna. “How can you trust someone without knowing her background? I would never allow a person in my home who conceals so much about herself.”

  Anna could not believe that the woman had not yet tired of her accusations. She tried to tell herself that Clarissa did not understand the true nature of her condition. Perhaps she was merely looking out for her neighbor. But the manner in which she spoke was uncouth to say the least. She wondered if she should excuse herself. Surely this contention was making Lord Philip uncomfortable.

  Philip’s brows pursed, and he wiped his napkin across his mouth, setting it on the table. “Now that you mention it, Miss Stapleton, she has been excessively interested in treacle. I wonder what the French would do with that information?”

  Beneath the table, Anna felt Philip’s leg bump into hers. She glanced at him, but he seemed suddenly interested in the pattern on the rim of his plate. The edge of his mouth pulled. Anna was relieved that he did not take Clarissa’s words seriously.

  Clarissa settled herself in her chair, folding her arms and turning up her nose at the soup when Ezekiel removed the bowl and replaced it with fruit. The bouncing of her ringlets reminded Anna of Medusa’s head full of serpents.

  Philip glanced between the two women and turned to Mr. Stapleton. “John, you must have heard about the attack on my shipment yesterday.”

  John swatted away Ezekiel’s hand when the boy offered to take his soup. “I’ve heard reports of at least two other shipments stolen as well from other plantations. You lost fifty hogsheads and a few mules, I understand.”

  “I also lost twenty-four workers.” Lord Philip’s expression remained pleasant, but Anna knew if the Stapletons were better acquainted with him, they would have been wary when they noticed his eyes tighten.

  Anna tapped her foot against his leg to let him know that he was not alone among these ridiculous people. She understood that he mourned the loss of his people even if the Stapletons did not.

  “I do not think the others lost slaves.” He looked thoughtful as he stroked his mustache. “But no matter. ’Tis only a few hundred quid to replace the Negroes. The sugar and rum—that there’s the real loss.”

  Anna saw Philip’s jaw clench. She thought quickly for something to say to change the direction of the conversation before he lost his temper. “Miss Stapleton, your gown is very lovely. I think the color is the perfect complement for your . . . ah . . . hairstyle.”

  Philip’s leg bumped hers again, and he coughed into his napkin.

  Clarissa
waved her fingers over her plate, indicating for Ezekiel to remove it. “An English gown made by an honest English dressmaker. Another reason to mistrust you, if I may speak plainly, Miss Anna. I would not be buried in a French dress like yours. We are at war, you know.” She sniffed. “Apparently you are not averse to purchasing plundered clothing from peddlers who acquire their wares from pirates. Some of us have standards.”

  Anna didn’t bother to be offended. Clarissa’s words had piqued her interest. Her clothing was French? And purchased from pirates? She hadn’t even wondered when Philip said he had a difficult time finding clothing in Port Antonio, and yet Betty had produced an entire closet full of gowns.

  Anna looked across the table. Mr. Stapleton was studying her intently. She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. She hoped he was merely curious about her gown.

  Philip cleared his throat. “I wonder, John, if you think I should try to plead my case to the Governor-General in Kingston.”

  Mr. Stapleton pulled his gaze from Anna. “Yer case? Oh, aye. The fifty hogshead . . .”

  Anna did not focus on the men’s conversation or Clarissa’s glares in her direction but allowed her mind to wander. She touched on the memory of lying in a dark ship and wondered more about it. Had she been traveling to Jamaica? From where? Was she with her family? Did they survive the shipwreck? Or was the small wisp of memory something different altogether?

  An image flashed in her mind. A handsome man in a dimly lit room hands her a book. He smiles. Anna tried, but she could not push the memory further. Who was the man? She knew she recognized him, but she could not think of his name or their relationship. Was he her friend? Brother? Anna breathed deeply. Was the man her husband? She pushed harder, trying to attach an emotion to the image.

  “Miss Anna?” Ezekiel’s whisper dragged her mind back into the dining room. He stood behind her chair, poised to pull it back.

  She looked up and noticed that the others stood and the meal had ended. They were waiting for the ladies to adjourn to the drawing room while the men drank their port.

  Anna stood quickly. She glanced at Philip.

  His eyes squinted, and he turned his head to the side slightly, asking a silent question. He was concerned.

  She nodded just a bit, smiling to assure him that she was well, and followed Clarissa down the hall, bracing herself for the time she would have to spend alone with the woman.

  Clarissa sniffed as she looked at the furnishings in Lord Philip’s drawing room. “Poor man. Oakely Park could certainly use a woman’s touch.” She sat in Philip’s chair, resting her wrists on the chair arms like a queen.

  Anna smiled as she imagined that Lord Philip would certainly have bumped her knee with his if he’d heard such a brash sentiment. Anna sat on the sofa across from Clarissa, and she thanked Ezekiel when he set a tea tray on the table between them.

  “You do know that my father owns more land than anyone on this side of the island. Kensington Estate is very extensive.” Clarissa let out a breath as if her extreme wealth was at times too much of a burden. “He is taking me to the governor’s house party next week.” She allowed her half-lidded eyes to travel around the room again. “Oakely Park is nice to be sure, but the decor is quaint and the food plain. It is hardly suitable for a fine lady of my tastes.”

  Anna pressed her lips together as a rush of irritation sped up her pulse. “I think Oakely Park is absolutely lovely just as it is,” she said.

  Ezekiel poured the tea.

  “It will be soon enough if you take my meaning.” Clarissa puffed out her lips and turned her gaze full force on Anna. “I think Lord Philip is quite taken with me.” She batted her eyelashes. “And he’ll need a strong wife, experienced with the ways of plantation life, if he’s to survive here in Jamaica. Poor man is hopelessly out of his element.”

  Anna thought she would be sick. The very idea of Lord Philip with this woman made her stomach burn. “I am sure his lordship is aware of your charms and all you have to recommend you.” She thought her reply seemed safe. There was no way he could not notice Clarissa, but Lord Philip would never consider an attachment to her.

  “Of course he is. He would be a fool otherwise. And then all of this—” Clarissa swung her hand through the air, colliding with Ezekiel as he reached to offer her a cup of tea. Liquid splashed over Clarissa’s glove and gown. The teacup flew, shattering with a crash against the wall.

  “You clumsy fool!” Clarissa shrieked. She struck Ezekiel across the face. The boy hit the wall and collapsed, holding his hands in front of his face as she lifted her hand to strike again.

  Anna darted toward her, seizing her around the waist and pushing her back into the chair. Then she sank down on the floor next to Ezekiel. She tugged on his arm and found an ugly gash bleeding on the side of his head. “How dare you strike this boy!” Anna cried. She looked around for something to stop his bleeding, and when she saw nothing nearby, she pulled off a glove, folded it, and pressed it against his wound.

  Clarissa stood, her face red and her ringlets sticking out at odd angles. “When I am mistress of Oakely Park, I will not tolerate this vulgar treatment. Useless crippled Negroes and swindlers that masquerade as ladies will be thrown out into the jungle to fend for themselves.” Spittle flew from her mouth as she yelled.

  Ezekiel shrunk back, and Anna wrapped her arms around the boy, holding him tightly.

  Clarissa jerked her head around as footsteps sounded in the hall. The men rushed into the room followed by Betty.

  Clarissa’s expression transformed in an instant. She pouted her lip and whimpered, “Daddy, the cruel Negro tried to hurt me.” Covering her face with her hand, she howled and shook.

  Philip just stared at the preposterous performance.

  “That is not true in the least,” Anna said, even though she was sure no one could hear her words over Clarissa’s wails.

  Betty knelt on the other side of Ezekiel and peeked beneath the bloody glove.

  John took his daughter in his arms, patting her on the head like he would a small child. “What do you have to say for yourself, my lord?” He glared at Philip.

  “Ezekiel would never harm Miss Stapleton,” Lord Philip said. “There must be a misunder—”

  Clarissa’s wails grew louder, and her father led her into the hall.

  Philip stood in the doorway, his expression wavering between anger and confusion as he looked at the women, injured boy, and then into the hall at his guests. His gaze met Anna’s, and she lifted her chin toward the noise in the hall. He should deal with his guests.

  Betty watched him go and then turned to Anna. “I take Ezekiel to de doctor,” she said in a low voice. She laid her hand on Anna’s cheek. “I knew you was one of de good people.”

  Anger bubbled up inside her accompanied by a constricting throat as she thought about the terror she’d seen in Ezekiel’s face. No child should have to fear such harm. But Betty’s simple words and gesture touched her heart so deeply that she could not find the words to respond. Tears prickled behind her eyes. She nodded, hoping Betty understood.

  They helped the boy to his feet, and Betty took him from the room.

  Anna peeked through the front door. Outside, Clarissa continued to cry while her father bellowed about nobody fetching their carriage or his hat quickly enough.

  “Sir, if your daughter had not injured my manservant, he would have indeed retrieved your coach by now,” Philip said. Anna could hear the frustration and anger in his clipped tone. He turned toward the house and caught her gaze for an instant, shaking his head before he started toward the stable.

  Anna moved away from the door. She pulled the pins from her hair as she climbed the stairs. The easing of the pressure on her sore scalp was a relief. Once she reached her bedchamber, she threw herself on the bed, not caring that she still wore an embroidered French silk dress.

  A torrent of emotions washed over her. She didn’t know whether she wanted to pound her fists on the pillows or to pull them
over her face and sob. She wouldn’t do either while that wretched woman still shrieked outside her window. Eventually the noise quieted, and the sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels told her that their repulsive dinner guests had departed. She lay on the bed long after the noise faded, imagining the Stapletons getting farther and farther away—and perhaps dropping off a cliff into the sea.

  Anna sat up and pulled off her other glove. She was making a habit of ruining beautiful clothing, she thought with a grimace. Now that there was no chance of encountering the Stapletons, she decided she would go to the hospital to check on Ezekiel. She stepped into the hallway and nearly collided Lord Philip as he raised his hand to knock on her bedchamber door.

  “I thought you would not wait in your room,” he said. “Might I assume you are walking to the hospital?”

  Anna nodded her head.

  “I hope you don’t mind a companion. I myself am quite concerned about my valet.”

  Chapter 13

  Philip was grateful that Anna had agreed to join him as he walked to the hospital. He’d worried that she might be angry with him or too upset by the horrendous evening to wish for company. He couldn’t imagine any scenario where the evening could have gone worse. He lifted the lantern he’d found in the stable and glanced at her as they stepped through the front doors.

  Anna raised her face to the sky, and he followed suit, watching the shadowy bats swooping to catch insects. He’d only occasionally seen a bat before he came to Jamaica, but on the island they filled the sky every night. He followed her down the steps.

  Anna breathed in. “I love that aroma,” she said. “I can smell it from my window.”

  Philip gestured to the small bushes next to the stairs. “Plumeria. It is more fragrant at night.” He offered his arm, and they started down the road.