A Country Marriage Read Online Free PDF Page A

old enough, though, aren’t you? Or tell me, is that the appeal?’
    She didn’t know where to look. There was clearly no point in pretending she hadn’t heard, so all she could do was avoid his stare and hope for him to move away.
    ‘Mary, this is Tom’s wife, Annie.’ It was George, his words spoken oddly and without inflexion. Clearly, he was as mortified as she was and for that, at least, she was grateful.
    Left without time to recover her composure, though, she was forced by politeness to look back up. But when she made to offer her hand in greeting, she was left hovering awkwardly as the woman she now knew as Annie moved to kiss George’s cheek and whisper something to him. Although she couldn’t be entirely sure, it sounded like, ‘Given up at last then, George.’
    ‘Annie, this is Mary.’ The second half of his introduction sounded similarly devoid of feeling and she withdrew her hand, glad that she did so because the woman merely glanced towards her and in a tone that might more normally be used with a tedious child, said, ‘Hello, Mary.’
    ‘Hello.’ For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to use the woman’s name. Annie. It sounded far too familiar. Friendly. And that was something that this particular Annie clearly was not. Not that the omission of her name seemed to trouble her because already, she had turned her attention back to George.
    Well, at least she lacked her husband’s coarseness, although clearly, it was her intention to make plain her place as a newcomer. It felt, though, as if there was more to it than that and while she wouldn’t sing her own praises as a judge of character, she did think the woman odd. For a start, there was her appearance. For a farm girl, her ebony hair was sleek and, under the warm lantern light, possessed of a lustrous sheen. Tendrils of it tumbled about her face, framing her fulsome pout and drawing attention towards her dark and lively eyes. And then – as though by themselves such arresting features were insufficient – there was her figure; her bosom, on its own generous enough to defy polite description, was accentuated further by her drawn-in waist and rounded hips. It was an outline that reminded her of the hourglass that Granmer Springer kept on her mantel. Yes, Annie Strong was unusual. In fact, she seemed a woman for whom artless innocence was a waste of time, it being clear that she knew full well the impression she made on those around her. Then there was the assuredness of her stance; the way she seemed to exude conviction and radiate defiance, traits that gave her the air of being either fascinating or brazen, depending, she suspected then, on the generosity of the observer. And she didn’t think that she was alone in her opinion, either; the expressions of some of the women nearby being the perfect illustration of her mother’s old adage if looks were daggers . But despite the less-than-flattering assessment of her new husband’s relative, she couldn’t stop herself staring, as holding George’s eyes for longer than could be considered polite, the woman drew her fingers slowly down his sleeve, ran them across the back of his hand and then with a supposedly casual toss of her tresses, followed her husband away.
    At George’s side, she stood silently watching her go. As she kept reminding herself, she didn’t know him yet but in that instant, she did feel a sort of kinship with him; a recognition that he felt as uncomfortable as she did.
    ‘Ah, here’s Will.’ The tone of his announcement this time was altogether different and when she glanced up at him, his stance seemed altogether less tense. ‘Mary, this is my brother Will and his wife, Ellen.’
    Much softer-looking and less dramatically coloured than either George or Tom and in stark contrast to what had gone before, she thought it was almost with shyness that Will bent to kiss her cheek. And from beside him, Ellen then stepped quickly forward to wrap her in a generous