There had been occasions during Anabelle's life when she had wished to become invisible, to melt into the ground like the last snows of winter. But that desire had never been greater than during the complete stillness following her father's words. Instead of defending his daughter, he had chosen the cruellest moment in which to highlight her folly, and the weight of self-consciousness fell heavily upon her shoulders.

She cast a look across the table, only to see Mr. Fielding's noble features turn to stone. Unwilling to watch his regard for her crumble before her eyes, her gaze sank as she stared at the napkin wrung between her hands.

The uncomfortable silence stretched. Everyone around the table awaited her reply.

Anabelle reached for her wine and swallowed a mouthful, hoping to wash away the lump that had formed in her throat. As she replaced the glass upon the table with a shaky hand, she said, "I...I believe it was Mr. Sutton who first told me there was a new steward at Blackwood."

Although she directed her answer to her father, she knew Mr. Fielding would be listening with no less interest. "When I went to the house to see about the blocked stream I asked particularly to speak to the steward, and the young footman directed me to a place that looked like the steward's office. That was where I met Mr. Fielding."

As she recalled the circumstances, her nerves calmed and she continued with tolerable composure. "As no one took the trouble to inform me that there was, as yet, no new steward employed at Blackwood, I believed the gentleman I had met in that room was the person I had asked particularly to see. In the absence of information to the contrary what else should I have thought?" She threw her question across the table as a challenge, but Anabelle made the error of glancing at Mr. Fielding's face as she spoke, and her fledgling defiance withered under his flint-like gaze.

His response, when it came, had an icy edge to it. "I was not informed that you particularly requested to speak to the steward. If I had realised you were labouring under such a misapprehension, you can be certain I would have enlightened you."

"How could I know you were not who I expected when you never said anything to contradict it?"

"To a clear-sighted, intelligent young woman such as yourself, I would think it obvious. Even if you mistook the circumstances upon your first visit, you surely could not fail to perceive the truth in our subsequent meetings."

The mention of their time together made her heart ache, for there was nothing in Mr. Fielding's tone that could give even the slightest hope that he recalled those moments with fondness. Whatever affection he might have held for her must surely be at an end.

After listening to their exchange, her father offered his own peculiar form of conciliation. "While neither of you has been entirely candid during your conversations, it seems we can lay some of the blame at the feet of an inexperienced footman."

At this point, Mrs Latimer made her own awkward attempt to break the discomfort that had settled upon the table. "Oh, I agree. Hiring new servants is always such a trial, particularly when you are setting up a household. I do not know what I would do without Mrs Crossley to guide me."

She recounted the story about the time when Mrs Harrison had hired a new scullery maid, who broke a tray full of china plates. Although Anabelle appreciated her step-mother's efforts to dilute the tension it did not seem to have any appreciable effect on Mr. Fielding, whose firmly pursed lips and fist clenched around the stem of his glass spoke volumes as to his state of mind.

When Sir Henry told his own jocular tale—where a servant had spilled a tureen of cold fish soup into his uncle's lap—Mr. Fielding's stony expression betrayed nary a twitch. He ignored the sweet treats on the table, concentrating fully upon the diminishing contents of his glass.

The end of the meal soon followed, and Mrs Latimer ushered her daughters out of the dining room, allowing the gentlemen to enjoy their after-dinner port free of feminine conversation.

Her relief at being released from Mr. Fielding's accusing glare was short lived once her step-mother had settled herself on the settee. "Anabelle Latimer, what on earth caused you to tell everyone Mr. Fielding was a steward? It is more than obvious that he is a gentleman of no small fortune. How could you not see that?"

"When I first met Mr. Fielding he was sitting in a dirty office, with ink on his fingers and dust on the underside of his sleeves. I might have had little experience with men, but I assumed a gentleman of means would be more fastidious in his dress. Mr. Fielding looked to me like a man who cared less for his appearance than the work he was undertaking.

"Perhaps the boy should have introduced you both in a proper manner, and what your father was doing letting you go to Blackwood Hall alone is more than I will attempt to guess. But you ought to have known better. A speck of dust on his coat does not turn a gentleman into a steward, and you cannot go around telling people things that are untrue. I've never been so embarrassed!"

Freed from the weight of Mr. Fielding's presence, Anabelle's courage rose. "Then my memory must be at fault because I do not recall sharing those first impressions with anyone outside my own family. I can and do blame myself for many things, but I met no one beyond these walls who had not already heard about Mr. Fielding from someone else."

She left the accusation hanging in the air, but Mrs Latimer's silence was as much an admission of her own guilt as she would ever get.

Selina laid a hand on her arm. "Although it was wrong to describe him thus without being absolutely certain, I do not think Belle can be held entirely to blame. I saw Mr. Fielding myself in Haltford and I had no apprehension of his status. It is easy now, with the benefit of hindsight, for us to say he is obviously a gentleman, but even some tradesmen have the means to dress in a gentleman-like fashion, just as men of fortune can choose to be less than precise with their appearance. It can be difficult to determine one from the other upon first glance, without a little knowledge of their position or social standing."

Anabelle, who had met Mr. Fielding considerably more often than anyone else, did not understand how she had missed the obvious clues. The only excuse she could offer was that she had seen in him no more or less than she expected to see. Indeed, her strong partiality for him had allowed her to look beyond his outward appearance and his hastily tied neck cloth, to the man himself—the man she had fallen in love with.

Mrs Latimer straightened her shawl. "Sir Henry did not, of course, reveal his friend's income, but there is no doubt in my mind that Mr. Fielding's fortune must equal that of his friend. This is what grieves me so. Two...two young men of wealth arrive in our neighbourhood, and Belle does nothing but insult them!"

"Sir Henry seemed more entertained than insulted by the confusion," Selina said. "He found the whole situation diverting, and confessed had never seen such an expression on his friend's face before."

Mrs Latimer rolled her eyes. "Gentlemen these days find their entertainment in the strangest of places. But I cannot deny that, in every other respect, I am quite delighted with our new neighbour. He is excessively handsome and so amiable. Do you not think so, Selina?"

Although her sister made no comment, the heightened colour of her cheeks showed that Sir Henry's charms had not been lost on her.

"Mr. Fielding did not see the humour in it," Diana said. "I doubt he will want to dance with Belle now"

Her step-mother's head snapped up. "Mr. Fielding asked you to stand up with him?"

Anabelle sighed, wishing that Diana's memory of their dinner conversation had been less precise. "He did, but that was before he learned of my foolishness. Given the circumstances, I do not expect him to attend the autumn ball."

"Well at least Sir Henry and his other guests will be there. I knew he would only have to meet Selina to admire her. He did ask you to save him a set, did he not?"

"Yes, Mama."

"And we must look our best when we call on his sisters tomorrow. I am curious to discover what plans they have for Blackwood, and hear the latest intelligence regarding London fashions."

Selina smoothed her figured muslin. "I hope I do not appear too homely."

"Do not worry, my dear, for you always look charming. You must be sure to wear your newest morning dress, the one with the tulle trimming, and that pretty brooch that belonged to your grandmother. If Sir Henry's sisters are only half as pleasant as their brother, then they will be a welcome addition to—" Mrs Latimer broke off as one of the girls brought in the tea tray, and waited while she set the cups out on the table.

"I have no expectation of Mr. Fielding forgiving Belle," their step-mother continued once the servant had gone, "but that does not mean to say he is a lost cause. If he can bear to return to Blackwood again he might appreciate Diana once he gets to know her." The younger Latimer daughter made an indelicate sound in the back of her throat. "It does not matter what you think of him. If Selina becomes mistress at Blackwood then Mr. Fielding is just the sort of man you could marry, once time has dimmed his memory of this unfortunate incident."

Diana's eyes grew wide. "Lord, no! He was so serious and angry looking. I would much rather have Sir Henry."

"That you shall not," Mrs Latimer said, wagging as admonishing finger, "for I am quite decided he shall marry Selina. After seeing them so comfortable together tonight I feel they would be an excellent match. Indeed, I am convinced he is half in love with her already."

Due to her age and inexperience Marianne had maintained a dignified silence throughout dinner. Freed from polite constraint she said, "Why should Belle not marry Mr. Fielding? He was staring at her for at least half the evening, even after he learned about her telling everyone he was the steward. Does not the bible teach us to forgive? If Anabelle forgives Mr. Fielding for not introducing himself properly, then maybe he will forgive her for telling everyone he was a poor steward."

"Silly mouse," Diana said, shaking her head. "A man like Mr. Fielding doesn't need to forgive anyone. If he really is as rich as Sir Henry then he can marry whoever he likes."

Mrs Latimer had not the pliability of mind to drive two horses at once. While focussing her energies on encouraging Sir Henry's interest in Selina, she had no reserves to divert towards Mr. Fielding. "My dear Diana, you would have just as much chance with Mr. Fielding as anyone. Indeed, more chance than some." She cast a cool glance in Anabelle's direction. "But I cannot think about Mr. Fielding now. He is a fish we shall be at greater liberty to catch once we have Sir Henry safely in the net."

Unlike her step-mother, Anabelle could think of nothing but Mr. Fielding. She blinked back tears as her memory conjured the image of his cold, impassive stare. Anabelle dreaded the moment when her father would bring the gentlemen through for tea. How could she bear to face him again?

Her melancholy thoughts were startled by the sound of the front door slamming shut, and their attention turned towards the front parlour window. Mrs Latimer rose from her seat, craning her neck for a better view. "Who can be leaving at this time of night? I had hoped Sir Henry would make up a four at the card table."

As they crowded around the glass there was just enough light from the house cast upon the driveway to see Sir Henry's chaise move off towards the gate.