Simply Anna Page 6

  Philip tried to imagine how she must feel. Not to remember one’s family or any personal history would be extremely distressing. Anna must be terrified to find herself in such a condition. In his mind appeared the image of strings wrapped around an oar, and he reassured himself that she would bravely cope with her fear. That was the kind of woman Anna was.

  He realized the path his thoughts had taken and shook his head, rolling his eyes to the heavens. His assumption that he understood this woman from a few bits of fabric wrapped around a piece of wood was ridiculous. It was obvious that he was in need of some sort of diversion to take his mind off inventing personality traits for people he’d never met. And besides, what if her injury had addled more than her memory?

  He turned his attention back to Dr. Bevan, unnerved by the way the man watched him through his small, round spectacles. “And her . . . disposition? Is there cause for concern?”

  “I believe Anna’s character, her likes, and her overall temperament are very much unchanged. She is quite amiable actually.”

  “Is there anything she needs while she recovers?”

  The doctor shrugged. “I shall keep a watch on her injury, and she should remain calm. I believe her mind would more readily heal if she did not have any more strain.” He stood. “We should all do our best not to cause her any distress.”

  “Of course.”

  Philip spent the next hour writing letters to the Governor-General and the House of Assembly in Kingston, asking for word to be sent to representatives of the fourteen counties on the island about a missing woman named Anna. He sent a messenger with the letters to Port Antonio and then asked Betty to see to the purchase of some clothing for his houseguest.

  Philip and Tom supervised the repair of an outer wall of the hospital. Bricks were brought in by donkey cart, and the workers carefully supported the ceiling with beams while the damaged wall was removed and a new one built. Lacking the patience to simply watch, Philip stripped off his jacket and waistcoat and heaved bricks and beams alongside the others.

  His mind did not stray far from the topic of Anna and her strange loss of memory for the remainder of the day. How would it be to have no memory of his life? There were parts he wouldn’t mind forgetting—such as the situation with his brother and Jacqueline—but to forget his home, his friends, his mother? The thought weighed heavily on his mind.

  He wiped his brow and surveyed the brick wall with a swell of satisfaction.

  A small girl approached from the direction of the slave village, carrying a bucket of water with two hands. A man stepped quickly to her and took the heavy bucket, squatting down to her height as he said something that Philip could not hear. He rubbed the top of her head with his palm. The girl laughed, swatting his hand away. The sight warmed Philip’s heart. He’d seen men of his acquaintance act with similar teasing affection to their children. The man dipped a tin cup into the bucket, offering Phillip a drink of cold water.

  They worked steadily until late afternoon, and Philip returned to the Great House that evening dirty and covered in sweat. He bathed and dressed for dinner, stepping out onto the veranda and enjoying the feel of the cooling air on his face. As Tom said, night came fast in the tropics, and sometimes it was even chilly in the evenings. He leaned his forearms against the wrought-iron railing and blew out a heavy breath.

  A movement on the edge of his vision caught his eye, and he turned his head, expecting to see Betty or Ezekiel but stopped short.

  A woman stood on the veranda near the far corner of the house, holding the railing with one hand—a young woman. As she twisted toward him, the setting sun behind her cast a golden halo around her head. She wore a long nightdress that didn’t quite touch the floor. With one hand, she held a light blanket wrapped around her narrow shoulders. Her blonde hair was loose and damp, hanging in waves nearly to her waist.

  He turned his gaze away from her bare feet, remembering that he was first and foremost a gentleman and he should behave as one and not scandalize this woman by staring at her ankles. When he looked closer, he noticed bruising on her forehead, and the damage to her skin was evident, as it peeled in thin sheets on her face and arms. In spite of it all, she was supremely beautiful.

  She held his gaze with bright eyes and twisted her head slightly to the side. Philip realized his mouth was open, and he was staring like a fool.

  “Are you Anna?” he asked. He could not believe that this lovely young woman was the same ghastly looking person he’d found on the beach. And he also could not believe the stupidity of his question. Who else would she be?

  She nodded. Her light brows pulled together. “I am sorry, sir, you have the advantage of me. I do not know your name. Are you perhaps Mr. Norton?”

  Philip pulled himself from his temporary stupor. He walked to her and gave a small bow. “Pardon me, I seem to have forgotten myself. Lord Philip Hamilton, at your service.” It was highly improper for a gentleman to speak with a lady to whom he’d not been introduced, but under the circumstances, he supposed it was much less rude than tipping his hat and walking away. She was, after all, his houseguest, and they had ridden on his horse together.

  “Lord Philip.” She curtsied, maintaining her hold on the railing. “I was told that you brought me to Oakely Park. How is it that you do not recognize me?”

  “You look very . . . different than when I found you. I am afraid I did not expect you to appear . . . as you do.” He was blathering like a fool. When did he lose the ability to string words together?

  “You look different than I expected as well, my lord.” Her lips twitched the slightest bit, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a bit of color rose to her cheeks. The effect was enchanting.

  Philip raised his brows. “And why is that?”

  The color spread. “I assumed you would be . . . older.” She slid her gaze to the side.

  Philip wished she would look back at him. He hadn’t quite finished determining the exact hue of her brown eyes. “Well then, we are well met, miss.”

  She looked up at him and smiled although he saw a bit of a wince around her eyes. He wondered if her injury pained her.

  “Indeed, my lord. And I owe you my thanks. Dr. Bevan told me if you had not rescued me, I would have surely died on the rocks. I am indeed grateful for your actions. And for your gracious hospitality.”

  “It is my pleasure, Miss, ah . . .” He lifted his hand, palm up. “What shall I call you? I can hardly call you by your Christian name.”

  Anna’s countenance crumbled. Her hand tightened on the rail, and she lowered her gaze. “I do not know my surname, my lord.”

  He could have kicked himself for such an insensitive question. He remembered Dr. Bevan’s warning about causing Anna more distress. Not that he needed the reminder; the sight of her dejected expression drove the point home better than anything the doctor could have said. He tried to think of something that might put her at ease.

  “You have given me a rare opportunity, miss.” Philip crossed one arm in front of his chest and tapped his other finger to his temple theatrically. “It is not often that a person is able to assign a name to a new friend.”

  Anna looked up, and her lips lifted in the slightest smile.

  Philip was encouraged that he’d struck on the right strategy for cheering her. “Let me see. Shall I call you Miss Water-Nymph?”

  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  “Very well then. Miss Black-Rock?”

  “My lord, you are really quite awful at this.”

  “I shall hit upon the perfect name. Miss Sand-in-Her-Hair.”

  A small giggle escaped her lips. “And shall I repay the favor, my lord? Shall I give you a name as well?”

  “And what name would you give me?”

  Anna squinted her eyes as she studied him. The pink returned to her cheeks. “I shall have to wait until I know you better. As of now, all I know about you is your tendency to bring home objects you find at the beach.” Her eyes twinkled, and he decid
ed the golden-brown was nearly the exact color of toffee.

  Philip laughed aloud, pleased that his plan to lift her mood had been successful.

  “My lord?” Ezekiel stepped onto the balcony with a strip of fabric in his hand. He bowed low, sweeping his hand in front of him. “Shall I tie yo’ cravat, my lord?”

  “No, thank you, Ezekiel.” Philip took the hopelessly wrinkled cloth. “Tell Betty I shall be down for supper in a moment.”

  “Right away, my lord.” Ezekiel flashed his cheery grin and hurried back through Philip’s bedchamber door.

  Philip turned back toward Anna, who regarded him with her lips slightly pursed and a brow raised.

  “Your valet?”

  “Yes.” Philip lifted the wrinkled cloth. “Although the situation does not bode well for the state of my wardrobe.”

  Anna smiled, but her eyes remained thoughtful. “You are indeed different than I imagined, my lord.”

  “I am not sure if I should take that as a compliment . . .” Philip’s words trailed off when she lifted a hand to her forehead.

  Anna’s face paled, and her grip on the railing tightened. “I am sorry, my lord, but please excuse me.” She released her grip, and Philip caught her arm.

  “Are you all right?” He sucked a breath between his teeth at the sight of her ashen skin.

  “Yes, just a bit dizzy. I need to rest.”

  “Come, you must lie down. I will send for Dr. Bevan.” He led her carefully around the corner of the house toward her bedchamber door.

  She leaned more heavily against him. “I am sorry.”

  Anna was slight, nearly frail, but not petite. The top of her head was approximately the height of his chin, Philip noticed. When he reached the doorway, he brushed aside the curtains and glanced into the guest chamber, fully aware of the impropriety of accompanying her inside. There was no maid or doctor, but he could not simply abandon her at the doorway in her condition. It only took one glance at the expression on his companion’s face, and he did not hesitate. He led her to the sofa and helped her to sit.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” Anna murmured. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she kept her hand against her forehead as she lay back against the headrest.

  Philip placed a blanket over her lap. “I shall fetch Dr. Bevan right away,” he said. His chest was tight with worry. Anna’s face looked gray against the white sofa.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Her head leaned to the side, and a strand of hair fell across her cheek.

  Philip reached to brush it away but pulled back his hand. What had gotten into him? He hurried to the door, glancing back quickly before stepping into the hallway. Where was that blasted doctor?

  Chapter 7

  Three days later, Anna sat in the shade beneath a cluster of mahoe trees. Insects buzzed in the undergrowth, and a chorus of birds called in the canopy above. She tipped her head back to admire the different colors of leaves and hibiscus flowers. The flora surrounding the Great House at Oakely Park took her breath away. Was it familiar at all? Dr. Bevan had told her she could possibly be from the island, but if that were the case, wouldn’t she remember something? It all felt new and strange. She concentrated, delving deeply into her mind for any memory of bright plants and their heady fragrance.

  “Will dere be anyt’in’ else, miss?” Ezekiel placed a tray on the table and stood with his hands behind his back.

  Anna realized she’d been clenching her teeth as she’d searched, frustrated, through the blank spots of her memory. She glanced to Betty, who sat in another chair, waving a fan in front of her face and at the small table with a pitcher of juice and two glasses between them. Betty was as close to a friend as Anna had at Oakely Park, and she was grateful the woman had agreed to attend her this afternoon. “Thank you, Ezekiel. This is perfect.”

  Betty said something to him that Anna didn’t understand. Ezekiel squeezed Betty’s hand and then grinned and hurried away.

  Anna studied his gait as she watched him walk unevenly back toward the Great House. One leg appeared to be shorter than the other, and his foot curled inward. She wondered if he had been born with the deformity or if he’d suffered a debilitating injury. And what was Betty’s association to the boy? Were they related? She glanced at her companion, searching the woman’s profile for any resemblance. “Thank you for sitting outside with me, Betty.”

  “Lord Philip an’ de doctor tell me dat you should no’ be left alone,” Betty said. Her low voice and accent made her sentences sound as if she were singing or chanting.

  It was not the most gracious reply, but Anna forged ahead. “And please tell your friend—I do not know his name . . . the large man?”

  “Malachi.” Betty still didn’t turn toward Anna.

  “Please give Malachi my thanks for bringing furniture outside so I could enjoy the sunshine.”

  Betty nodded stiffly; her gaze still followed Ezekiel as he climbed the main steps.

  Anna didn’t want to spend her entire afternoon sitting awkwardly next to a woman who responded only with stilted sentences. She determined to break through Betty’s guarded exterior. Perhaps speaking about her family would soften her. “Is Ezekiel your son?” Anna asked.

  Betty turned toward her, raising her chin and turning her head slightly to the side. The gesture was one Anna was coming to recognize as typical of the housekeeper. Betty’s actions projected a stately quality that fascinated Anna. Her manners seemed so unlike a servant. “His mot’er was my dear friend,” Betty said evenly.

  Was? Anna looked closer at Betty’s expression. Her self-assuredness was not quite so strong. “I am sorry. How long ago did she die?”

  “When Ezekiel was very young. We—I did not know dis fo’ a long time. She was far away, at a plantation near Whitehouse.” She held Anna’s gaze confidently, but Anna thought she saw a hint of nervousness. “I care fo’ him now.”

  Anna studied Betty for a moment. The story was vastly incomplete. How did the two women know each other? And once Betty had learned of her friend’s death, how did she arrange to bring Ezekiel to Oakely Park? Was it a common thing for slaves to keep in contact across long distances? To send for the children of their deceased friends? Betty’s expression was closed, and Anna could tell that she didn’t want to volunteer any more information about how Ezekiel came to be in her care.

  Anna was immensely curious but changed her line of questioning, hoping that Betty would come to trust her enough to share more of the boy’s story. “I believe Lord Philip quite likes Ezekiel.”

  Betty’s expression did not change, but Anna was beginning to notice the slightest shift in her eyes, which spoke volumes. “We two—Ezekiel and me—take care a de Great House together fo’ a long time but is different wit’ de massa in residence.”

  “I imagine so,” Anna said.

  “De lord is not used to de island ways. He say he is gonna find a valet. I fear Ezekiel be sent to de fields—” Betty stopped speaking abruptly, her eyes widening as if she worried she had said too much.

  Anna did not know the extent of the child’s disability, but she couldn’t imagine him performing heavy labor with his painful-looking limp. “I will help you if you like,” Anna said. “We should be able to adjust the household routines to include Lord Philip.” She winked. “Caring for an aristocrat should not be too difficult. It is simply a matter of knowing his needs before he does.” For a moment Anna wondered about her own experience with domestic matters. What part did she play? Was she a married woman who commanded a household of servants? Is that why she was so comfortable addressing Betty’s concerns? She strained to remember, but search as she might, she could not find any bit of knowledge of her life.

  Betty’s expression softened into a small smile, and Anna was surprised how young the housekeeper looked. Thick lashes surrounded her dark eyes, her lips were full, and dimples formed on her smooth cheeks. She was quite beautiful when she didn’t hide behind her unapproachable exterior. She lowered her eyes, poured juice into a
glass, and handed it to Anna. “Dr. Bevan say you mus’ remember to drink.”

  Anna took the glass and sat back, happy that she’d perhaps thought of a way to help Betty and Ezekiel as well as to repay Lord Philip for his care. Thinking of the man and the gentle way he’d assisted her to her bedchamber a few evenings earlier warmed her cheeks.

  She’d remained in her room and not seen him since that night, but as she regained her strength, she wondered more than once what occupied Lord Philip’s time.

  Hearing the sound of horse hooves, she turned. Her heartbeat sped up, and her cheeks warmed further when she saw Lord Philip riding toward her with another man. Her flush must be due to her head injury and the afternoon heat, she rationalized to herself.

  Philip sat tall in the saddle, nodding as he listened to the other man speak. He lifted his hat when he saw her, and his light hair fell over his forehead above pale-blue eyes.

  Betty stood to the side of her chair and curtsied.

  “Miss Anna, how do you feel today?” He dismounted and handed the reins to his companion, walking toward her. He bent down in front of Anna and looked closely at her face. “Are you certain you’re quite well enough to be outside? Dr. Bevan seemed to think you had overexerted yourself walking about on the veranda the other evening.”

  Anna found herself unable to look into Philip’s blue eyes while they studied her so intently. She kept her gaze on her hands circling the glass in her lap. “I am much better, my lord. Between the sunshine and Betty’s willow-bark tea, my bouts of dizziness are nearly gone.

  “I am glad to hear it.” He nodded once and stood, removing his riding gloves. “Please allow me to introduce Mr. Tom Norton, the plantation overseer.”

  “How do you do, Mr. Norton?” Anna raised her gaze to the other man. He was young, she thought, and also very handsome, though he lacked the air of confidence Lord Philip seemed to carry so easily. Tom’s eyes were gray, and his hair was a light brown, tied at the base of his neck with a string.