Yorkshire, England, 1825

“But I don’t understand. Why can we not go?”

“Mary, please. That’s enough.” Anna tries to sound firm as a governess should be, but it seems after all these years, this little hellion knows how to get away with acting however she likes.

“But we want to go, too,” pouts the girl, slumping low in her seat, arms crossed and brows frowning most unladylike.

“Speak for yourself,” interrupts John. Lounging in the window seat, book in his lap and sun gleaming off his blonde head, he looks downright carefree. “I don’t wish to go anywhere near that ball.”

“It’s not a ball,” Anna tries to correct, but Mary is turned in her chair, attention only for her brother, whilst John continues to swing his skinny leg along the side of his seat, seemingly all focus on his book. It seems she’s been quite forgotten.

Mary continues to turn till she’s on her knees, her small chair creaking beneath her. “But why, John? It’s going to be lovely. Isn’t that right, Anna?” she asks, peering over her shoulder at her governess for confirmation.

With a sigh, Anna gives up, coming to kneel beside Mary. “I’m sure it will be lovely.” Anna helps the precocious girl from her knees, seating Mary in the chair properly, facing her. “But it is not a ball, poppet, merely a small party with some friends of your father’s.” She cups the girl’s pink cheek in her hand. “It won’t be any fun for you, I promise. Even I’ve no wish to go.”

“Well, of course you don’t want to go,” John speaks up, “you’re just a governess.”

She stares at the boy with no small amount of shock. And, she admits to herself, hurt. These children are her world, and the idea that they see her as lesser is painful indeed.

John sees the hurt there, cheeks warming as he glances from his book to Anna’s eyes then back again, unsure of what to do.

“That was rude,” Mary is quick to admonish.

John’s book falls from his lap as he sits up straighter to defend himself. “It’s true! Isn’t it, Anna? You only work for father. You’re not his friend.”

Rude as it may have been, it is true, she knows. She is only staff, not family, and lowly born at that. But more than that, she knows how much John truly cares for her, how well he thinks of her. She’s certain he meant no harm in his comment.

Anna’s face softens, a genial smile coming to her lips. “I know. You’re right,” she accepts, trying to rid the boy of his guilt.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Anna,” he apologizes, shoulders low and expression glum.

She reaches a hand out to him till he stands before her. With a gentle squeeze of his arm, she softly says, “I know. I know, John. Besides, who wants to go to some silly party anyways, hmm?” She tries to catch is downcast eyes, giving a silly smirk for him to return.

“I still do,” Mary announces, making both governess and brother look to her. Elbow on the back of her chair, and chin resting in her hand, she looks every bit like the spoiled seven year old she is. It’s a simultaneously adorable and ridiculous sight causing Anna and John to chuckle. With a scowl she turns away from them with a hmph.

—————

The breeze is cool sweeping through the vale, the heather ebbing and flowing like an ocean of violet. Anna wonders what it would be like to drown in it. Lying flat on her back, the purple tips of heath glide together in a synchronized dance only it knows, framing the blue sky perfectly.

Years ago, the only thing that surrounded her were cold, stone walls, and even colder caretakers. The orphanage was not for the faint of heart - nor the sickly. Turns out she was neither of those things, only lonely, so she survived, health and heart intact. Though perhaps, still somewhat lonely.

Inhaling the fresh air around her, her eyes close, dreary memories replaced by newer, happier ones. Full of tow-headed children who refuse to listen to her but make her smile nonetheless. And a kind master who shows her more respect than she deserves. She thinks she might in fact have drowned in this purple sea, and died and gone to heaven.

“Anna, are you sleeping?” Mary’s curious whisper full of sweetness.

“She’s not sleeping,” John insists, and she can practically hear his eyes roll in his head.

“How do you know? She looks rather peaceful.” She feels Mary’s small hand pet tenderly over her hair and Anna’s heart melts.

“That’s just it, dummy. If she were sleeping, she’d be snoring.”

Anna nearly laughs, but instead lets out a drawn out snort, shooting up fast as she grabs for both screeching children. She finds purchase in the fabric of Mary’s dress, John escaping her grasp. Pulling a laughing Mary down beside her, Anna tickles relentlessly until the little girl is near out of breath. They lie together, a chuckling Mary patting her cheek making Anna’s smile grow wider.

“You’re a silly girl, poppet.”

Mary only shrugs. “So are you.”

“That’s true. It’s a good thing I found you then.”

“What are you two doing down there?” John questions with disdain.

Anna raises her brows at his haughty tone. “Oh,” she begins, patting the ground on the other side of his sister, “Do join us in the flowers, Master John.”

Like his answer to everything since he turned ten, he rolls his eyes. “Girls,” he says with disgust, causing Anna and Mary to start another round of laughter. It stops short at the galloping sound of a horse causing them both to raise up quickly.

“Who’s that?” asks Mary.

“The first of your father’s guests I would assume.”

“I shall like to meet him,” the young girl proposes before dashing toward the manor.

“Mary!” Anna calls chasing after her. “Mary, wait.”

Anna tries to catch her, wondering how a person with such short legs can run so fast. She reaches Mary as the girl makes it to the inner courtyard, just in time to see the visitor dismount.

He’s tall and lean Anna notices, with skin very fair, his coloring and build making her think that he’s perhaps not one for sport or exercise. No, indeed with his white pallor and dark circles beneath his eyes he appears almost sickly. And rather chilling.

Mary, of course, has no qualms, running up to the stranger as he hands the reins of his horse over to the help.

“Good day,” she greets with all the pomp and seriousness of a girl twice her age. It’s cute, but the unhappy expression on the man’s face turns Anna’s heart with worry. “I am Mary. What’s your name, sir?”

The man only glares at her, his height over her making him look like an angry tower. Anna begins a slow pace forward, breath coming fast.

“Bit presumptuous of you,” the man finally says. “You’re Marriott’s daughter, then?”

“I am, sir.” Mary gives him a gap toothed grin, the first of her baby teeth beginning to fall out last year. Anna holds her breath, waiting for his reaction as she continues to make her way forward. Her stomach twists when the man reaches down, fingers closing in on Mary.

But he merely plucks out a piece of grass that had tangled in the girl’s mess of a hair. Peering up, he locks eyes with Anna, now standing just behind her charge. It’s only now she sees what a piercing blue his eyes are - icy. Which is perfect as his gaze nearly makes her tremble.

“You’re the governess, I take it?” he asks, head tilting towards Mary.

Her mouth opens for a time, with nothing escaping it until finally, “I am.” It’s then he starts reaching for her. For a crazy moment, she thinks he means to touch her cheek, and her eyes widen as her heart thrums madly. But no, again, he only releases a bit of grass. She watches it - and his hand - in a bit of shock, before suddenly realizing how much of a mess she must also appear.

“Makes sense,” he says, face taking on a derisive expression. “Perhaps do your job, governess. Instead of acting as one of the children,” he sneers.

His words would be insulting enough, but it doesn’t even match his actions when he flicks the grass into her face before walking off into the manor without another word.

Anna tries not to let her humiliation show while she wipes at her face before trying to straighten out her hair.

Mary takes a handful of Anna’s dress, laying her head against her. “I don’t think he’s a very nice man.”

“No. I don’t either.”