Page 40 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
Anna grimaced. “Rose. You know the drama that ensues within me when I attend the market…”
Rose perked up. She’d hardly thought of it. “Of course! Your darling Ernest works at the market on this day, doesn’t he? Oh, what good news! I can scarcely wait to…”
Anna arched her brow. “No. I just don’t think I feel proper about introducing him to anyone…”
“Don’t be foolish, Anna,” Rose returned. “Wait!” An idea sprung to her mind. “Why don’t you write your first letter back to him? We can write it right now, together. And you can deliver it.”
Anna’s cheeks flashed bright pink. “Rose, I really don’t think I’m ready.”
“Nonsense,” Rose said. “You’ve worked harder than anyone on your reading and writing. You’re going to be better than I am in just a few weeks. I know it. Why don’t you… pick up that quill and a bit of ink and… get started?”
Anna gave her this look that seemed almost murderous. Rose wouldn’t have been surprised if her friend had leaped up from her chair and demanded some kind of apology. But instead, with her lip bubbling with panic, she gripped her quill and dotted it in ink. Then, she splayed a blank piece of paper in front of her—and actually began to write.
Rose yearned to give words of encouragement. She wanted to peer over Anna’s shoulder and assure her that she was doing all right. But instead, she leaned back and allowed her friend to take the reins of her own life.
And when Anna finished with her letter, she thrust it across the table for Rose to read.
Rose was completely mesmerised with what Anna had created. She never would have taken credit for the mastery that Anna had undertaken with the written word throughout the past weeks. It was almost as though the understanding of this language, of the words themselves, had always lived just beneath the surface of Anna’s fingers, behind her eyes—and now, with the brief urgings from Rosa, she had the strength to fling forward and become this vessel of emotion.
“I knew it,” Anna said. She dropped her face into her hands and let out a sigh.
“What?” Rose asked. She’d nearly forgotten that Anna remained in front of her, so lost she remained in Anna’s love story.
“You hate it. It’s dreadful,” Anna said.
Rose splayed the page out between both of them. She draped her arms over her chest and scowled at her now-dear friend. “Anna…” Her voice remained quiet, as it was clear she could no longer masquerade as this “arrogant” persona, teasing Anna along the way. “Anna, really. This—what you’ve created—is masterful. It’s beautiful. It’s poetry.”
Anna’s eyes shimmered with light. Her lips parted. “Are you quite sure, Rose?”
“I wouldn’t let you give him anything less than a perfect letter. And this, Anna… this is perfect. It’s as though you’ve…”
“Spent the previous months writing it in my head?” Anna said. She gave a little shrug, then added, “Of course. That would be silly. I’ve certainly not stayed up long nights, reciting it to myself, hoping that one day I might have the letters beneath my quill…”
Anna and Rose scurried to their bedrooms. They darted into them, dotting their travel bonnets over their heads and tying them at their chins. As they dressed in proper dresses for the occasion, they called to one another through the walls—carrying on their conversation like sisters might have, sisters who shared a bedroom.
Strangely, this made Rose’s heart twinge for Carrie, despite the fact that Carrie had never allowed the two of them to have that sort of sisterly friendship. She’d thought Rose to be entirely foolish, that she needed to “whip herself into shape” and stop reading so many books, as it didn’t do anything to assist her monetary status.
Rose shook this memory from her mind and met Anna back in the hallway. The girls laced their arms together and swept toward the foyer, where they rounded about the house and entered the stables. There, one of the stable boys prepared a little carriage for them. He was perhaps fifteen years old and introduced himself as Isaac. He splayed his palm out for both women to take, before he helped surge them the rest of the way into the carriage.
Once inside, Anna and Rose exchanged mischievous glances.
“What a funny thing, the two of us attending the market together,” Rose whispered. “The governess and the maid.”
Anna’s cheeks flashed red with excitement. As the horses clicked ahead, she turned swiftly toward the window and gazed out across the moors. It was a blustery, mid-autumn day, one that forced the clouds low, like an attic ceiling. Anna’s left hand splayed out across the seat between them, and Rose saw that Anna had donned little white lace gloves—entirely inappropriate for a maid of Anna’s stature. Of course, Rose knew precisely why she’d chosen them. They were delicate and feminine, entirely the sort of thing you’d wish to show off in front of the man you fancied.
When the girls reached the market, their rambunctious giggles and conversation fell off. Anna slid her hands across her dress, as though this could smooth out all the impossible wrinkles. The stable hand popped off the front seat and ambled toward the side to yank open the door. He grunted something as he assisted the ladies to the browning grass below.
Something like, “We’re all servants here. Why can’t the two of you help yourselves?”
But Rose and Anna ignored him. Rose informed him that they’d need a bit more than an hour or two, and she popped him a few coins, telling him to find a snack for himself. His eyes peered at the coins hungrily, and he seemed to chew on the side of his tongue with grimy teeth.
The market was made up of five long aisles of stalls, all of which were manned by a selection of farmer’s wives, farmer’s daughters, and farmers themselves. It was stitched up to the side of a nearby town, as though the brick and mortar of the town had spilled out into the chaos and vibrancy of the market.
From where Rose and Anna stood, they could make out a massive pile of pumpkins and squash, and a large table of baked goods—both sweet and not—where the stable hand had already sidled up. Beyond, there were beautiful stalls with gowns and fabrics, where Rose would spend some time later, along with fruits and nuts and tables and tables of vegetables, leaving Rose curious as to how Anna had discovered her particular vegetable man in the process.
Of course, all of that was certainly tied up in fate. This is what she reminded herself as she strung her arm through Anna’s and whispered, “Come along. I can’t wait to see him.”
Anna gave a stern nod. Her first step was enormous, nearly tumbling the two of them into a pit of mud. But they rebounded quickly, with Rose chortling to herself (conscious not to make Anna too anxious).
