The Rescue (33 page)

There are more where that came from,
was the next thing to pop into Weston’s mind, but he kept that thought to himself, saying only, “It’s one you deserve.”

The two talked until Lenore came home. She hadn’t expected to find them up, but when she sat with them in the library and saw that all was well between them, and especially with Anne, she was relieved.

Lenore was the first to excuse herself, more than ready to lie down in bed. When she was finally settled, sleep crowding in swiftly, she had a final thought. For some odd reason she had the notion that her son not marrying for love would be less of an emotional drain for all of them, but it simply wasn’t so. For one thing, Weston was on his way to loving Anne, if he didn’t already, and for another, whenever humans were involved, there was always some expense of emotions.

I’m old enough to know that by now,
she told the Lord, wondering at her own lack of acumen, and promptly went to sleep.

The trousseau began to arrive on Friday morning. Accessories that had been picked out in the shops on their day in London were delivered, as well as the first items from Mrs Martin. In silent awe Anne looked at the beautiful clothing in her room.

She might have gone on looking, staring in wonder as Jenny unwrapped one item after another, but Weston knocked on the door. Jenny went to answer it and slipped out when the new husband walked in.

“I understand Saint Nicholas paid you a visit,” he teased.

“Oh, Weston, have you ever seen such lovely things? How will I ever thank your mother?”

“You won’t need to. She’ll take one look at your face and have all the thanks she needs.”

Anne barely heard him. She was inspecting a pair of shoes they’d ordered at the cobbler’s, a pair of evening slippers that would be beautiful with several of her gowns.

“They’re so pretty.”

Weston had come to her side. He took a shoe and held it in his palm.

“Your feet are quite small. I’ve never noticed that before.”

Anne looked over at her husband to find him staring down at the hem of her dress, as though trying to view her feet. Anne felt a slow blush that started at her neck and moved upward.

“Why, Mrs Weston, I do believe my attention to your feet has made you blush.”

Anne turned her head and tried not to smile.

“I didn’t know anyone could turn such a pretty color,” he went on without mercy.

“Oh, do stop.”

“I can’t stop until you tell me I’m incorrigible.”

“Well, you are! Make no mistake about that.”

Weston laughed as she turned to him, red face and all.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Indeed, I am.”

The laughter fell away just then, slowly, like a sunset. Anne and Weston looked at each other, their thoughts growing quiet.

“How many weeks have we been married now, Mrs Weston?” her husband asked softly.

“Almost three.” Anne’s voice was just as soft.

She seemed soft and inviting to him just now, but he couldn’t be sure. They had decided on their wedding night to find another time for intimacy, but it probably wasn’t fair to initiate such an action, or even kiss her, until they’d spoken of it. Anne was, however, so sweet and approachable just now that Weston could not keep his hands to himself. He reached up and stroked down her smooth temple with one finger, finishing the caress on her cheek.

His voice still just as quiet, he said, “You might feel wonderful in your new clothing, and I’m sure everything will be beautiful on you, but never forget that I find you completely lovely right now.”

Anne’s heart pounded almost painfully within her. No one had ever spoken to her in such a way. Had this been a suitor, Anne would have been wise to turn away and not encourage such advances, but this was her husband. This was the man who cared enough to marry her, to rescue her.

“Thank you,” Anne said, hearing the breathlessness in her own voice but still going on. “It occurs to me that you might be correct. I may feel wonderful in my new clothing, but having you find me appealing is what matters the most to me.”

“Never doubt it, Anne,” Weston said this time, his gaze intense as he studied his wife. He was ready to broach the subject that was often on his mind lately, but he caught a slight tremble as Anne stood before him. He didn’t know her well enough to gauge if she was fearful, nervous, or perhaps excited, so with an effort he pushed the matter from his mind.

It was with relief that his mother knocked on the door, Jenny behind her. More clothing had arrived, and Weston cleared out to let the women explore. He prayed for patience as he ordered a horse to go riding in the park.

Chapter Eighteen

The first day of September found Anne in church with her husband and mother-in-law, dressed in new clothing from her hat to her shoes. She met Pastor Crawford and his wife at the door as they arrived, enjoying their warm welcome and obvious good friendship with Lenore.

The sermon was like one she would hear at home, causing her to be very thankful for the upbringing her husband had known. Not until they were in the carriage and headed back to Berwick did Anne realize she didn’t know Lenore’s story of salvation. She didn’t even wait to arrive back but asked her right away.

“Robert’s father believed first,” Lenore explained, her eyes alight with the memory. “We were newly married, and I thought all this searching he was doing was a reflection on me. I thought he was unhappy in our marriage and regretted it. I was crushed, and although he tried to explain it to me, I didn’t understand, and he only grew frustrated. That upset me more.

“Then he trusted Christ to save him, and the change was remarkable. He had always been a kind, caring man, not easily angered or put out, but after his conversion he was unlike I’d ever known him. The frustration he’d exhibited while trying to explain his need to me was gone. He took all the time I needed, sometimes answering the same question over and over again. I still tried to accuse him of being unhappy with me and our marriage, but he just became more loving, so that argument died.

“Then I was expecting Robert, and James told me in plain terms that he was going to raise this child to love and follow Christ. I was terrified.”

“Why was that?” Anne asked, completely rapt.

“I felt I would be left out. I knew what an influence James would have on our child, and I was certain I would be all alone, left outside of this experience they shared.”

“What did you do?”

“I began to attend church with James. I knew our friends were talking about us, but James only quoted to me from 1 Peter 4, where it says that old companions will speak evil of you when you don’t run and sin with them any longer, but they will have to someday give an account to God for their choices.

“Those were the words that got my attention. I was no longer afraid of being left out, I was no longer afraid of anything except having to give an account to God. I knew I was a sinner, although I’d never admitted it to myself, and suddenly I was desperate to have God save me.”

“And He did,” Weston put in, his face content as he listened.

“Yes!” Lenore exclaimed. “I’ll never forget the day. We had just arrived home from church, and usually I needed to eat right away or the pregnancy would give me an upset stomach. But this time all I could think about was my sin. James knelt with me in the library, and I confessed my sin before God. I asked for His cleansing and healing hand in my heart, and then I vowed my life to His Son, Jesus.” Lenore smiled again. “I can’t say that I’ve never gone back on my promise, but He always forgives me when I fail Him. By the time Robert was born, I was as committed to raising him to love Christ as James was.”

Anne smiled at her husband, who was looking very pleased.

“I’m glad you told your story, Mother. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it.”

Lenore shook her head. “I was very stubborn and full of pride for a time, but God broke through.” This said, Lenore reached over and touched Anne’s arm. “Tell me your story, Anne.”

Not leaving out any detail, Anne filled her in. Weston enjoyed hearing it again, remaining quiet so his mother could catch all the details.

“And your father, Anne?” They were at Berwick now, walking to the front door, and Lenore had slipped her arm into Anne’s. “Did he never make a commitment?”

“Not that I know of. He was always willing to have my mother read to us from the Bible, but he never yearned for God or studied the Word on his own. Such a lack of interest has never given me much hope.”

“We will pray, Anne,” Lenore told her sincerely. “If God can break through my stubborn heart, I know He can reach your father, no matter his present emotional state.”

Anne nodded, asking God to help her believe this. Her father did have moments when he was lucid, and her God was a saving God. Anne knew she needed to remember this more often.

The days passed swiftly. The threesome had shopped a bit more, visited gardens, and had a thorough tour of Norwood Place, but now, in just two days’ time, Weston and Anne would be leaving London. For this reason Lenore felt a small sense of urgency as she looked for her son. He had been in the garden with Anne, but Anne now picked flowers alone, and Weston was not to be found. She couldn’t ask her new daughter where he was—that might rouse her interest—but she was most determined to find him.

“Well, Mother,” Weston said calmly, having come up behind her in the hallway. “You look as though you’ve lost something.”

“Robert,” she said on a laugh, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Weston frowned. “You knew I was in the garden with Anne.”

His mother took his arm and urged him toward the privacy of her room.

“I can’t ask you about this in front of Anne.”

Weston went along, fairly certain he knew her topic. The subject had passed through his mind on several occasions, but he’d still not seen to it.

“Have you spoken to Anne about Jenny?” Lenore asked the moment they were behind closed doors.

“No.”

His mother’s look was pointed.

“When did you plan to take care of this?”

“Today. I’ll do it today.”

“Good. Let me know how it turns out.”

“I will. And thank you, Mother, for seeing to it.”

Weston wasted no more time. He moved back to the garden, but Anne was not there. Not many minutes or inquiries later, he found her arranging flowers in the dining room.

“Very nice,” Weston complimented when he saw her arrangement. “You should do flowers for Brown Manor.”

Anne’s hand came to her mouth, her eyes dancing with merriment, and Weston knew he’d misstepped. Floral arrangements were probably all over Brown Manor, and he’d never noticed.

“I think I’ll go back out, come in, and try this again.”

“No, don’t,” Anne said, taking his arm. “I didn’t expect you to notice. It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I shall notice when we arrive home; I can assure you of that. But that’s not why I came in. Can you arrange flowers and listen at the same time, or shall we take a seat?”

“How serious is it?”

“It’s not serious at all.”

“Then I’ll keep working.”