The unexpected temptation

IV

                          London, England, 1837, Sunday.

Annabeth couldn't concentrate on what the vicar was preaching about. How could she? Her mind wandered to the letter sitting on her bed at home. She had only read the first paragraph but her heart was already beating a mile a minute. Yesterday, after supper was eaten, a letter arrived from Belford. It was addressed to the quadruplets, specifically Annabeth. She had only the privilege of reading the first paragraph before heading to church. The letter was from their mother and in the first paragraph, she had hinted that Miss Ascot was unwell, of what disease she was incurring, Annabeth had yet to know. She hoped it was not apoplexy, that sickness ran too much in Miss Ascot's family. Miss Ascot, as she was affectionately called, was the oldest woman in the village. She was also a spinster. To many it was a real pity for she was a true beauty, full of grace. She was also of good social standing: her father was an earl of Belford. So why on earth was she still unwed? The answer was still quite unknown. Annabeth loved the woman to bits. But who could not? She was very humorous, and entertaining to be around. What many despised , but the quadruplets loved about Miss Mary Ascot, was her sharp tongue. The woman had a will like iron, and she usually voiced them out, carelessly. She was eighty eight years but would still ride her stallion, Lancelot, like a man. She had no time for side saddling and riding gear. She would ride the thing without a bridle or a helmet and not give a wit. It was thought that she was of bad company and evil influence to many a young girl. A thought Annabeth highly disagreed with. Had she not taught the quadruplets, when their parents were away,many virtues? How to respect and earn respect? Had not her advice led them to become who they were now? How then, was she a bad influence? Annabeth pushed the argument to the back of her mind, trying to focus on what the vicar was saying. However, she couldn't concentrate for long.

"Finally" muttered Bea, when the service was over. Annabeth nodded in agreement as people began to leave the building. Annabeth hurried to get out, for  a letter was at home, beckoning her to come and read it. No sooner had Annabeth reached the large mahogany doors than aunt March called her back. Annabeth was beyond annoyed at the woman. What business did they have here again? "Annabeth may I introduce you to Mr. Carter, duke of York."

No you may not, thought Annabeth sourly, behind the most sweetest of smiles. Mr. Carter beamed as well. If Annabeth was not in a hurry to go home, she probably would have registered the man's appearance. She would've probably noticed his brown hair and grey eyes and his sharp features. But she did not. And after a few minutes of silence, aunt March took it upon herself to fuel the conversation. "Mr. Carter has invited us to join him for lunch" she informed. Mr. Carter asked Annabeth "you shall come. Yes?"

"Unfortunately sir, even though I am charmed by your invitation, I must excuse myself from this."

"But why?!" Cried aunt March and Mr. Carter.

"I have a terrible headache, although it's nothing that a good nap cannot fix" she lied, smiling. Annabeth was sure that Aunt March would have seen and pointed out this fabrication if they were not in the presence of a young eligible duke. "Then grant me the permission to call on you tomorrow. If your headache, God forbid, is still present, then I shall bring some remedies on the way"

How would he know if my "headache" still persisted? Annabeth asked herself as she replied in the affirmative. "I will leave with Mrs. Stubbins, Aunt, so you needn't worry about me. Enjoy yourself" and with that, Annabeth left the church, not feeling a single pang of guilt for lying to her aunt. After all, not knowing what the letter entailed was a headache.

"Thank you Mrs. Stubbins, I shall forever be indebted to you for your kindness" said Annabeth when she got down. Mrs. Stubbins chuckled. "Oh dear, think nothing of it" said she. "Isn't she sweet, Harry? She will definitely make a good wife for you. If only she was not so reserved" Mrs. Stubbins said to her son when she thought Annabeth was out of earshot. Annabeth decided not to look back at them in order not to let them know that she had indeed heard them. She only shook her head when she was inside. Was that all the mothers here thought of? Matches and weddings and wives for their sons? How glad she was then, that she was not raised here. Instead of deep enriching conversations with her family, she would have talked of matches and debutant gowns. Like Victoria. The only thing the poor girl talked of was that. But can one really blame her? For all of London knew that she had been unsuccessful in husband hunting for the past three seasons. It was a habit, Annabeth deduced, as a result of all those unsuccessful seasons. Annabeth made a beeline for the room she shared with her sisters. She practically pounced on the letter when she saw it. Continuing from where she left of, she read to herself:

Let not your heart be troubled, Annabeth, for her illness is not apoplexy, but she is sick and pale with grief, that you Anna, are not with her to entertain her. So I request that you write to her of your experience so far in London. I am aware that what I am asking you to do is difficult as you do not mate quill and parchment together anymore because of obvious reasons.

But it is not impossible, my dear Anna. A few phrases should do since you have a knack for stringing your thoughts into words so eloquent that paint a picture in the mind. Please take into consideration what your tired mama has written and write to the woman.

Let me also take this platform to advise you. You are well aware of the reason why you are in London. Aunt March says you have made little to no progress in securing a match. Dear Anna, if not for her, do it for me. And leave that wretched past behind. And secure a match and make your mama proud.

Do remember that I love you dearly. Also extend my regards to those sisters of yours. Tell them I shall write to them all in due time.

Warm regards,

Your mama.

Annabeth was hardly breathing when she was done. She did not pay much attention to the advice her mother had shared with her. Instead she dwelt on the task her mama had given her. Even if she wanted to write, she was sure that she had burned all her parchments and sold all her inks and quills. But surely, there must be some here, she thought to herself. She got up and made her journey towards the library in search of the very thing she once loved but grew to abhor.

Annabeth could not believe it. The last time she had written so much was when she wrote to him. But even then she had not written with such ardency. She had gone through five parchment pieces and two bottles of ink just now. She had forgotten the invigorating feeling writing evoked in her. It was eating her up. She decided to end her letter, for had she not, she would be writing on the walls by now. She quickly enveloped it and sealed it. Then, she asked Mr. Collins, the footman to deliver it to the post office. When all that was done, she realized that her siblings had still not arrived yet. She took this opportunity therefore, to sleep. It was not all the time that silence reigned in the house.

It was half past four when the party returned. Their noise woke Annabeth up with a start. Her sisters chatted animatedly as they climbed the stairs and into the room. Annabeth stared at them in indignation. Couldn't they be quiet for one moment?

"Well, if it isn't Miss headache. Hope you're better now" Debbie quipped, feigning worry for the girl's health. Annabeth broke into a smile. "I didn't believe it for one second" Debbie chuckled, sitting beside her. "Pity that you did not tag along though, for lunch with the Carters was quite nice" Catherine said, sitting on the right side of her big sister. "Is that so?" Annabeth asked. She ruffled Kitty's hair and side hugged Debbie. "You know, Mr. Carter was terribly disappointed that you were not present at the luncheon. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's besotted. Only a matter of time till his infatuation bears the fruit of love" Bea commented, wiggling her eyes suggestively. Annabeth glared playfully at her before pulling the girl down to the floor in front of her. Bea yelped at the action. "That'll teach you to run that mouth of yours" Annabeth quipped, hugging the head of the girl. Bea squirmed and squirmed until she realized something. "Is that ink on your palm?" She asked, grabbing her hands to inspect them better. "Did you..." Debbie trailed off when she saw the marks of ink. Annabeth simply nodded. "So we have our sister back?"Catherine asked, squealing her head off. "I wrote a letter to Miss Ascot is all" Replied Annabeth, waving her hand dismissively. "But every one knows you have not written since he.." Catherine trailed off when she saw the look of warning on Beatrice's face. It was good too that Beatrice had warned the girl, for the very mention of the man's name sent Annabeth back into her shell. She was just beginning to recover. "Girls, dinner is ready" Aunt March announced from somewhere into the house. They all made the mistake of getting up in haste and so they all fell down. They laughed in the most unladylike manner. For whom had manners when something rather funny occurred?

"Annabeth I would like to speak to you" said aunt March when supper was over. Annabeth got up and followed the woman like sheep to a slaughterhouse. When they were in a secluded alcove, Aunt March began "Anna, Mr. Carter will call on you tomorrow so you may have to rise earlier than usual." Annabeth was not surprised. She was, perhaps, a little irate as she did not want to rise up early. 

She merely nodded at aunt March and left, in search of the library.

So, how do you all like it? Tell me what you feel about it and please I DO NOT tolerate silent readers :).