Simply Love

out on the pavement, his arms wrapped tightly about Joshua’s neck, his face buried against his shoulder. Joshua had one hand spread over the back of the boy’s head and was kissing the side of it.

Anne’s eyes were blinded by tears and she blinked them away.

Why did everything wonderful have to be left behind? she wondered. Why was life so heavily punctuated with good-byes?

Joshua set David down, cupped his face with both hands, kissed his forehead, and turned to Anne.

“You have done a fine, fine job with him, Anne,” he said, reaching out his right hand. “He is a great lad. I’ll write from Penhallow.”

She set her hand in his as David darted past her into the school, not pausing to greet any of the ladies or even Keeble, one of his favorite people.

“Thank you again,” she said.

“Anne,” he said, lowering his voice and tightening his grip on her hand, “you are doing a fine job, but that lad needs a family. And there is one waiting to acknowledge him in Cornwall-Prue and Ben, Constance and Jim Saunders, Freyja and me. And Chastity and Meecham too, though they don’t live there. David has aunts and uncles and cousins even if he was born out of wedlock. You must at least think about telling him something of his lineage. Will you?”

“I can look after my own son, Joshua,” she said stiffly, withdrawing her hand. “But I do thank you for being so kind to him.”

“I’ll write,” he said, shaking his head, clearly in frustration.

“Good-bye, Anne.”

“Good-bye,” she said, and watched him until he had turned the corner and gone out of sight.

But there were different kinds of good-byes, she thought. This one was not heart-wrenching for her, though it clearly was for David. She would see Joshua again-perhaps as soon as Christmas.

She would never see Sydnam again.

Not ever.

Susanna linked an arm through hers and she stepped inside the school with her friends.

She was back home and it was good to be here.

But never was an awfully long time.

By the time Anne got David to bed that night she seemed finally to have convinced him that Christmas was not so very far away. He had been partly consoled too by the interest Matron and several of the girls had shown in his holiday. He had regaled them with tales of where he had been and what he had done.

“Mama,” he admitted after she had told another episode of an ongoing bedtime story and tucked him in for the night, “it is good to be back. I like having my little room all to myself.”

Yes. It was good to be back. And there would be much to do in the coming days. Susanna was going to Barclay Court with Frances and the Earl of Edgecombe, and so there would be only Anne and Claudia to amuse the girls. And there were classes for the coming year to prepare. There were letters to write-of thanks to the Duchess of Bewcastle, of simple friendship to Lady Aidan and her aunt, to Lady Rosthorn, and to Miss Thompson and the other Bedwyn wives.

It was good to be back.

Tired as she was after the long journey and the teeming emotions with which she had left Glandwr, Anne sat up late in Claudia’s sitting room, the quartet of friends complete again with her return and Frances’s visit. Frances was staying the night at the school despite the fact that the earl had taken rooms at the Royal York Hotel. He had come to dinner but had then left, telling the ladies that he realized his presence would be decidedly de trop for the rest of the night, besides which he needed his beauty rest but realized they would all sit up talking for at least half the night.

Anne liked him. They all did, and they all rejoiced in Frances’s happily-ever-after.

They talked about Frances’s travels and singing successes on the Continent, about Anne’s month in Wales- minus all reference to Sydnam Butler-about the school holiday in Bath, and about numerous other topics. They had always been able to talk to one another about anything and everything. It had always seemed to Anne that they were far more like sisters than mere friends. They still missed Frances’s constant presence among them, even though she had been gone for two years.

It did feel good to be back.

Anne hugged Susanna and Frances the following morning when the earl came for them in his carriage and waved them on their way from the pavement, Claudia at her side. And then they smiled at each other and went back inside the school to organize the girls for their planned walk and picnic in nearby Sydney Gardens.

Two weeks passed with busy holiday-time activities, including walks and picnics and games in the meadow beyond the school and treasure hunts within the school itself. Sometimes Anne sat with the girls, in the common room or in their dormitory, talking with them, listening to them, trying to give them some sense of family, some realization that there were adults who cared about them. But inevitably the new school year approached. There were to be a number of new girls. Indeed, the total number of both boarders and day pupils was to increase, since the school was prospering. Lila Walton, a promising senior pupil from last year, had stayed on in order to become a junior teacher-just as Susanna had done four years before. Anne spent several hours with her, helping her to prepare.

And finally Susanna returned, relaxed and bronzed and full of energy and stories of her holiday at Barclay Court.

Claudia was engaged to dine that evening with the parents of one of the new day pupils. Anne and Susanna sat up alone together in Anne’s room after everyone else had retired for the night, Susanna seated on the bed, her arms clasped about her raised knees, Anne on the chair beside her small desk.

“I hated to lose Frances when she left here two years ago to marry the earl,” Susanna said with a sigh. “But, oh, Anne, she made the right decision. I am so very envious. The earl is very charming. And he is terribly proud of her. He does not at all resent having to travel such long distances so that she can sing. Indeed, I believe he revels in her fame.”

“And he is as much in love with her as he always was when he pursued her so relentlessly,” Anne said. “That was obvious when he dined here with us.”

Susanna sighed again. “Was it not like a fairy tale, their romance?” she said. “He would not let her go, would he, even though he was Viscount Sinclair and heir to the earldom and Frances was a lowly teacher at our school. But she was so beautiful. She is even more so now. Marriage and travel and a singing career obviously agree very well with her.”

They were quiet for a moment, both glad of Frances’s happiness, both rather melancholy for their own sakes.

“And what of you?” Anne asked. “Did you really have a lovely time? Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“Like a duke to sweep me off my feet and bear me off to his castle as his bride?” Susanna laughed. “No, not quite, alas. But Frances and Lord Edgecombe were very obliging, Anne, and made sure there was some entertainment for me to attend almost every day, even though I am sure they would have been just as happy to relax and be quiet together after being away for so long. I met some amiable and interesting people, most of whom I knew from before, of course.”

“But no one special?” Anne asked.

“No,” Susanna said. “Not really.”

Anne raised her eyebrows.

“Only one gentleman,” Susanna admitted, “who made his intentions very clear, and they were not honorable ones. It was the old story, Anne. Yet he was very handsome and very amiable. Never mind. And you? You told us a great deal about your Welsh holiday the evening before I left, but nothing that was very personal. Did you meet anyone interesting?”

“The Bedwyns,” Anne said, smiling, “are all quite fascinating, Susanna-and that is actually an understatement. The Duke of Bewcastle is every bit as formidable as he is reputed to be. He has cold silver eyes and long fingers