When You're Gone (Of Liberties And Loss, #2)

I. Tremors Beneath The Waves

Edited

Autumn of 1870

The colour of loneliness is not gray.

It is nothing bleak. It is vibrant, right there in front of your eyes. Each vivid colour is pronounced, blending with each other until you have a full spectrum in front of you, a spectrum full of beauty and life, but it will not mean anything if you choose not to see it. If your heart tells your mind that there is nothing in front of you, then there is nothing in front of you. If it tells your mind to see nothing but the greys and the blacks and the whites, then you will only see those colours.

That is how it is when you miss someone. There is nothing in front of you, only the thoughts of them clouding your perception of everything around you, no matter how beautiful, and when you see the one you love, they help bring out the beauty you neglected to see.

There is none of that beauty as Anne stands in that ballroom, a hundred pairs of eyes watching her closely, waiting for her to make a mistake.

"H-Henry... What?"

"My dear, I have asked you to marry me."

Anne looks down in blatant disbelief at the man. She has made it clear in the past that she would rather give him a sharp kick to the family jewels than give her hand in marriage. Either it is a trick, or... she did not know. Regardless, she is befuddled beyond reason.

A bead of sweat runs down her back as she looks at the people gathered around them. They are all watching with anticipation. Lord, no, she would not agree to marry him, but that does not mean that she is rude enough to simply refuse him in the middle of a crowd! She prays that her letter had sent quickly, that Raymond and his father were on their way to Ravensworth. She hopes that they are at the gates now, so Raymond could think of a plan to help her escape. In the meanwhile, she has to ask herself what she would do in his place. She does not have any matches on her, so setting Henry on fire and leaving him to cook is hardly an option.

She has been wearing the very same expression for such a while that her face begins to hurt. She has to think of a plan soon. She cannot spend all night looking at the bastard who had the gall to make fun of her ever since they were children. Suddenly, embarrassing him does not seem so bad. Hell, he deserves to be embarrassed in front of the entire country! She does not know what is stopping her. She was never one to have any sense of social propriety.

"Ah... No. My lord, I am sorry, but I cannot. I am afraid that this is much too impulsive, and that I am not yet ready for such a commitment. Perhaps you should speak to my mother. Or... the Duke of Norfolk? I would appreciate it if you took the time to ask him. He is, after all, the man who has been standing as my father since I was little. I am dreadfully sorry to have troubled you." The words are bitter on her tongue.

If Ray were there, she would have not been afraid to reject Henry completely. If Ray were there, she would not have been afraid to be judged. She could have told Henry that she was promised to someone else, someone who actually loved her and saw her as more than just a trophy to wave around, more than just a means to access the earldom to which Anne was heiress to.