Free The Headstrong Ward by Jane Ashford Page B

Lydia and her mother awaited them. Lydia rose as soon as they entered, and came forward with outstretched hands. “My dear Lady Anne,” she cried, taking both of Anne’s hands and pressing them gently. “How wonderful to see you again. I have longed for your arrival.”
    â€œThank you,” replied Anne, extricating her fingers as politely as possible.
    â€œIt will be so good to meet someone with whom one can have a rational conversation at these endless ton parties,” continued the other, tossing her black curls. “I find them unbearably tedious. All that gossip and empty chatter.”
    â€œLaurence!” exclaimed Anne. “Have you been gossiping to Miss Branwell? For shame!”
    Lydia stared blankly at her, but Laurence smiled. “I hope Lydia excludes me from her denunciation.” Seeing his fiancée’s bewilderment, he added, “It was a joke, Lydia. Anne is bamming us.”
    â€œOh. Oh, of course.” Miss Branwell smiled thinly. “Very amusing. Laurence has told me about your lively sense of humor, Lady Anne.”
    â€œHe flatters me.”
    â€œWhat have you done since you arrived in town?” asked Lydia, shifting the subject away from dangerous ground.
    â€œWell, it has been only two days.” Anne thought of Mariah’s garden. She would not mention that to this girl. “I have bought some horses.”
    â€œHorses?”
    â€œYes, Edward took me to Tattersall’s yesterday. I bought the sweetest little mare you can imagine for riding in the park, and I could not resist two hunters. They were so fine-looking. Great shoulders and strong hocks. How I should like to try them at a fence.”
    â€œYou…you hunt, then?” Lydia sounded rather as if she were asking about some indelicate eccentricity.
    â€œWhenever I have the opportunity. I am very much hoping to get an invitation to Leicestershire this winter.”
    â€œFrom whom?”
    â€œAnyone with a house in the neighborhood of the Quorn.” Anne grinned.
    â€œI shall have to see that you meet Lady Ellis.” Laurence laughed. “She always gathers a large house party for the hunting.”
    â€œDo, by all means,” encouraged Anne.
    â€œI don’t quite approve of hunting,” murmured Lydia sweetly. “I feel so sorry for the poor little fox.”
    Anne raised one eyebrow. “That ‘poor little fox’ would soon destroy every covey in the county if he were left alone.”
    â€œAnd why not? I do not see why birds should be shot either.”
    Anne, seeing a dispute ahead, shrugged and would have abandoned the subject.
    â€œMy father is one of the strongest opponents of hunting and shooting,” continued Lydia. “He feels they are unchristian.”
    â€œWell, you know, Lydia, I have always thought he goes a bit far,” put in Laurence. “Hunting isn’t all sport. It does help balance things on the land.”
    Miss Branwell drew herself up. Anne, with a slight smile, sat back in her chair.
    â€œBut, of course, the bishop knows more about it than I,” added Laurence hastily. “I shall have to discuss it with him and learn his views.”
    â€œOh, yes,” breathed his fiancée, leaning forward and putting a hand over his where it lay on the chair arm. “Do, Laurence! He will convince you, I’m sure. He is so wise.”
    He nodded. But Anne saw his shoulders move impatiently beneath his coat, and her smile broadened a bit.
    â€œHave you been shopping since you arrived in town?” Lydia asked Anne, eyeing her buff walking dress with approval.
    â€œNo, but some of the things I ordered last month have begun to arrive. I think I am fairly well equipped for now, thank heaven.”
    â€œYou don’t care for shopping?” Miss Branwell seemed surprised.
    â€œI loathe it. I leave it for months, then I rush out and buy everything at once, half of it useless most of the