From What Ive Tasted Of Desire

Chapter 1: All Great and Precious Things are Lonely

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Yorkshire, England, 1825

"But I don't understand. Why can we not go?"

"Mary, please. That's enough." Anna tries to sound firm as a governess should be, but it seems after all these years, this little hellion knows how to get away with acting however she likes.

"But we want to go, too," pouts the girl, slumping low in her seat, arms crossed and brows frowning most unladylike.

"Speak for yourself," interrupts John. Lounging in the window seat, book in his lap and sun gleaming off his blonde head, he looks downright carefree. "I don't wish to go anywhere near that ball."

"It's not a ball," Anna tries to correct, but Mary is turned in her chair, attention only for her brother, whilst John continues to swing his skinny leg along the side of his seat, seemingly all focus on his book. It appears she's been quite forgotten.

Mary continues to turn till she's on her knees, her small chair creaking beneath her. "But why, John? It's going to be lovely. Isn't that right, Anna?" she asks, peering over her shoulder at her governess for confirmation.

With a sigh, Anna gives up, coming to kneel beside Mary. "I'm sure it will be lovely." Anna helps the precocious girl from her knees, seating Mary in the chair properly, facing her. "But it is not a ball, poppet, merely a small party with some friends of your father's." She cups the girl's pink cheek in her hand. "It won't be any fun for you, I promise. Even I've no wish to go."

"Well, of course you don't want to go," John speaks up, "you're just a governess."

She stares at the boy with no small amount of shock. And, she admits to herself, hurt. These children are her world, and the idea that they see her as lesser is painful indeed.

John sees the hurt there, cheeks warming as he glances from his book to Anna's eyes then back again, unsure of what to do.

"That was rude," Mary is quick to admonish.

John's book falls from his lap as he sits up straighter to defend himself. "It's true! Isn't it, Anna? You only work for father. You're not his friend."

Rude as it may have been, it is true, she knows. She is only staff, not family, and lowly born at that. But more than that, she knows how much John truly cares for her, how well he thinks of her. She's certain he meant no harm in his comment.

Anna's face softens, a genial smile coming to her lips. "I know. You're right," she accepts, trying to rid the boy of his guilt.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Anna," he apologizes, shoulders low and expression glum.

She reaches a hand out to him till he stands before her. With a gentle squeeze of his arm, she softly says, "I know. I know, John. Besides, who wants to go to some silly party anyways, hmm?" She tries to catch is downcast eyes, giving a silly smirk for him to return.

"I still do," Mary announces, making both governess and brother look to her. Elbow on the back of her chair, and chin resting in her hand, she looks every bit like the spoiled seven year old she is. It's a simultaneously adorable and ridiculous sight causing Anna and John to chuckle. With a scowl Mary turns away from them with a 'hmph'.

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The breeze is cool sweeping through the vale, the heather ebbing and flowing like an ocean of violet. Anna wonders what it would be like to drown in it. Lying flat on her back, the purple tips of heath glide together in a synchronized dance only it knows, framing the blue sky perfectly.

Years ago, the only thing that surrounded her were cold, stone walls, and even colder caretakers. The orphanage was not for the faint of heart - nor the sickly. Turns out she was neither of those things, only lonely, so she survived, health and heart intact. Though perhaps, still somewhat lonely.

Inhaling the fresh air around her, her eyes close, dreary memories replaced by newer, happier ones. Full of tow-headed children who refuse to listen to her but make her smile nonetheless. And a kind master who shows her more respect than she deserves. She thinks she might in fact have drowned in this purple sea, and died and gone to heaven.

"Anna, are you sleeping?" Mary's curious whisper full of sweetness.

"She's not sleeping," John insists, and she can practically hear his eyes roll in his head.

"How do you know? She looks rather peaceful." She feels Mary's small hand pet tenderly over her hair and Anna's heart melts.

"That's just it, dummy. If she were sleeping, she'd be snoring."

Anna nearly laughs, but instead lets out a drawn out snort, shooting up fast as she grabs for both screeching children. She finds purchase in the fabric of Mary's dress, John escaping her grasp. Pulling a laughing Mary down beside her, Anna tickles relentlessly until the little girl is near out of breath. They lie together, a chuckling Mary patting her cheek making Anna's smile grow wider.

"You're a silly girl, poppet."

Mary only shrugs. "So are you."

"That's true. It's a good thing I found you then."

"What are you two doing down there?" John questions with disdain.

Anna raises her brows at his haughty tone. "Oh," she begins, patting the ground on the other side of his sister, "Do join us in the flowers, Master John."

Like his answer to everything since he turned ten, he rolls his eyes. "Girls," he says with disgust, causing Anna and Mary to start another round of laughter. It stops short at the galloping sound of a horse, causing them both to raise up quickly.

"Who's that?" asks Mary.

"The first of your father's guests I would assume."

"I shall like to meet him," the young girl proposes before dashing toward the manor.

"Mary!" Anna calls chasing after her. "Mary, wait."

Anna tries to catch her, wondering how a person with such short legs can run so fast. She reaches Mary as the girl makes it to the inner courtyard, just in time to see the visitor dismount.

He's tall and lean Anna notices, with skin very fair, his coloring and build making her think that he's perhaps not one for sport or exercise. No, indeed with his white pallor and dark circles beneath his eyes he appears almost sickly. And rather chilling.

Mary, of course, has no qualms, running up to the stranger as he hands the reins of his horse over to the servants.

"Good day," she greets with all the pomp and seriousness of a girl twice her age. It's cute, but the unhappy expression on the man's face turns Anna's heart with worry. "I am Mary. What's your name, sir?"

The man only glares at her, his height over her making him look like an angry tower. Anna begins a slow pace forward, breath coming fast.

"Bit presumptuous of you," the man finally says. "You're Marriott's daughter, then?"

"I am, sir." Mary gives him a gap toothed grin, the first of her baby teeth beginning to fall out last year. Anna holds her breath, waiting for his reaction as she continues to make her way forward. Her stomach twists when the man reaches down, fingers closing in on Mary.

But he merely plucks out a piece of grass that had tangled in the girl's mess of a hair. Peering up, he locks eyes with Anna, now standing just behind her charge. It's only now she sees what a piercing blue his eyes are - icy. Which is perfect as his gaze makes her tremble.

"You're the governess, I take it?" he asks, head tilting towards Mary.

Her mouth opens for a time, with nothing escaping it until finally, "I am." It's then he starts reaching for her. For a crazy moment, she thinks he means to touch her cheek, and her eyes widen as her heart thrums madly. But no, again, he only releases a bit of grass. She watches it - and his hand - dumbfounded, before suddenly realizing how much of a mess she must also appear.

"Makes sense," he says, face taking on a derisive expression. "Perhaps do your job, governess. Instead of acting as one of the children," he sneers.

His words would be insulting enough, but it doesn't even match his actions when he flicks the grass into her face and walking off into the manor without another word.

Anna tries not to let her humiliation show while she wipes at her face before trying to straighten out her hair.

Mary takes a handful of Anna's dress, laying her head against her. "I don't think he's a very nice man."

"No. I don't either."

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Chapter 2: I Will Be Quiet

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"I'm sorry ma'am, but the master'd like to speak with you."

It's not wholly unusual, Anna thinks, passing by the extravagant paintings through the dark wooden halls. He is after all, her employer and father of her charges. They speak all time. But this feels different somehow.

Anna shakes her head, trying to dislodge such ridiculousness from her mind. This unquietness within her is only from her meeting with the man, as she's taken to calling him. She's since learned from the gossipy maids that his name is Robert Hall, but she's decided to continue calling him the man, with a sneer... at least in her head.

Since her introduction to him she's felt like a silly schoolgirl, wanting to go cry beneath her covers. Which is precisely what he wanted her to do, so she refuses to do it. And if she's so unlucky as to cross paths with him again, she's decided to merely greet him coldly with her head held high and move on.

Life is much too short to put stock into what cruel, arrogant strangers think of you.

She knocks timidly on Mr. Marriott's study door before entering into the warm room. He sits casually in his chair behind his desk, attention at first only for his papers. But once he hears her steps he peers up, welcoming and kind as ever.

"Miss Smith! You're here, wonderful."

She can't help but return his smile, infectious as it is. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, yes. Please," he gestures to the chair across from him.

The setting sun has turned the sky a brilliant shade of pink and purple through the large window behind him, a perfect backdrop to his dark hair and light features, like one of his beloved paintings she thinks.

She's not too good to admit an attraction to him, only a blind woman would not see his beauty. All the maids, and even the old housekeeper Mrs. Flynn, speak of their handsome master. But of course, she has never been anything but appropriate around him, and he around her. She's not so stupid as to risk her employment over a crush. Even if he is handsome and sweet, and dotes on his children.

"Miss Smith," he begins, breaking her from her thoughts. "I would like John to join us tonight."

She frowns, confused. "Sir?"

"I think it's time for him to begin learning about how to interact with the ton, yes?"

"But he's only a child," she splutters. "Surely, it's early yet?"

His fingers lace together atop his desk, leaning forward a bit. "Perhaps, but he is a good boy. Thanks to you, a well behaved boy, but not one for much longer, I think."

"He's ten." She's at a loss to say anything else, surely pushing a boy, who'd much rather be tromping through mud and exploring the outside, to interact with stuck up nobs is not a good idea. No matter how well behaved he is.

"Exactly. Ten. High time. So he'll be there, yes?"

She can do nothing but nod out of duty. "Of course, sir." With nothing else, she stands, thinking of how sorry she is for a boy who will have to play the silly role of a little man in a room of vipers.

"Oh, Anna," he calls, her hand on the door handle as she looks back. "It goes without saying, of course, but John is a boy still. And as his governess he will need you there."

Fear shoots up her spine lightning fast, eyes going wide. "Sir, I can't."

"Can't?" he asks, a mixture of worry and annoyance.

"I mean... I am only a governess, not a lady. I don't belong there."

"You belong wherever the children need you. And tonight, that will be with me, and my guests."

All out of excuses, she drops her head, resigning herself to her fate. "I've nothing to wear." She doubts her wardrobe of two drab grey dresses and one black would be appropriate for such an occasion.

"Oh, don't worry. No one will be looking at you. Thank you, Miss Smith." He focuses back on his papers, squinting at them in the dying light. He should light a candle, she thinks numbly before walking out.

'No one will be looking at you.'

It wasn't said cruelly, or with malice, Mr. Marriott is not that kind of man. But the coolness of it, the carelessness of how he said it, as if it were obvious how all but invisible she was, was as sharp as a dagger.

—————

The news was accepted by John and Mary as well as Anna expected. Which is to say, not at all.

After a never ending chorus of 'It's not fairs', and 'Why him and not me', and 'But I don't even bloody want to go'. Anna finally got them settled down.

Mary, angry and forlorn in her bed, arms crossed over her sheets and a scowl so deep Anna was certain the girl would not fall asleep for some time.

And poor John, self conscious and uncomfortable in his fancy waistcoat and breeches. Like Mary and Anna, he's silent and resigned, but her heart breaks for both of them.

It's silly, she thinks, not to mention dangerous. They're not her children, only her charges. Ultimately, their fate is not in her hands. And while she's always known this, she doesn't think she's ever really thought about it till just now. And it's terrifying.

"Alright," she says before leaning over Mary's unhappy form. She dips to kiss her on the forehead, but the girl rolls away before she can. Anna settles instead on a caress of the girl's blonde head. "Goodnight, poppet."

John's hand in hers, they make their way to the music room. She can hear the laughter and pianoforte from down the hall, something classical and melodious blending with a murmur of conversation. She thinks her anxiety is about to hit its own high note before she's immediately held back from entering by John.

He says nothing, only looking up at her with blue eyes full of too much fear to speak. And that's it, that's all it takes for her to find her bravery - for him.

"I'll be there the entire time, as will your father."

"Promise," he begs forcefully, "promise you won't leave."

Anna leans over, setting herself at eye level with him. "I promise." It's said with a true sincerity he recognizes, and she sees the fear melt away some. With a boop of his nose, she smiles at him, making him grin in return. "'C'mon."

The room goes silent when they enter, everyone watching them. Too full of nerves, Anna sees none of them.

"John!" Mr. Marriott strides towards his son with excitement, setting down his glass of scotch rather loudly before making his way over. "Come on, son."

As Marriott takes John around to speak to various guests, Anna begins to feel more than a little awkward standing alone in the middle of the room. Finding a seat along a dark wall, she takes solitude in the shadows, watching with some fascination at the glint and gleam of the ladies' gowns and jewelry in the warm candlelight.

The room glows orange with the firelight, shadows dancing tall and misshapen along the walls like ghosts. She almost feels calm, at peace with the ease with which John seems to be engaging with others and how she's being left alone.

'No one does notice me, and it's definitely for the better.'

Then she shivers, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. Something's wrong, though she can't quite place her finger on what. Fingers twisting around each other in her lap, she tries to calm her nervous thoughts as she searches the room.

And then she sees him, eyeing her from across the way over the sea of heads between them. He stands beside the fire, one arm leaning on the mantelpiece and a foot resting on the grate. He's all alone. In a room full of people, not a single one pays him any attention. For one silly moment, she wonders if he's a ghost. But no, he's just a miserable man no one likes.

Well, good. She's glad she's not the only one to feel that way about him. Then she wonders why on earth Mr. Marriott even invited him? Are they friends? Old acquaintances, perhaps? No two men could be further apart in spirit.

His eyes, made bright by the fire, burn into her very being, as if she were the only soul in the room. So focused on her, she'd think he were a statue except for the periodic sips of his drink.

She swallows hard, throat closing in and breath becoming erratic. Then his eyes cut away to Marriott, smiling and jovial as ever as he tells a story, John shy yet happy by his side. The intensity with which Hall stares at them almost rivals how he stares at her. Or perhaps he just looks at everyone that way.

For some reason, the thought makes her laugh, a soft chuckle escaping from her. She dips her head, hiding her goofy smile. But then she feels his eyes on her again, and cracks begin to form in her facade of strength.

She can't handle this much longer, room closing in on her. The music is too somber, and the laughter is too loud, and the heat is becoming overwhelming as she struggles to breathe.

And why does he keep staring at her.

She promised John she'd stay, but she has to get out now or she may very well pass out. To her relief, no one seems to notice as she makes her hasty escape, too caught up in their party.

Racing down the dim hall, she doesn't stop until she's alone, slamming a door behind her. Face turned up to the ceiling, she releases a heavy breath, and then another, feeling her heart slow to a not as dangerous pace. She drops into a leather chair, mindless for a long moment before she takes stock of where she is - Mr. Marriott's study.

She blinks with confusion. How was she able to enter, she wonders, certain that Mr. Marriott always kept it locked. Perhaps this is just the one time he did not.

'No matter. I won't be long.'

When she feels sufficiently calmed she stands, making her way to the door on much steadier legs.

Hand paused on the handle, the echoing sound of footsteps in the hall has her heart racing all over again. She watches a shadow play beneath the doorway, praying for whoever it is to keep walking. But the steps go quiet, the shadow unmoving, until all there is between her and the stranger is a wooden door.

"Anna Smith. I know you're in there."

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Chapter 3: Red Snares

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"Anna Smith."

Her hands that'd been hovering over the handle jump away with a jolt. Heart beating wild and rapid like a cornered deer as she takes a frightened step back, followed quickly by another.

Her mind is spinning, stomach churning.

How did he know her name? How did he know she was here? What was he doing here?

"Anna, I'm going to open this door." His voice is muffled through the wood, but regardless, she understands every word, heart lurching with each one. "And if it's locked," he warns, dark and quiet, "well, you're going to wish otherwise."

She watches in horror as the ornate brass handle turns, taking yet another step back.

The door opens painfully slow, Robert Hall's tall form filling the entrance - her only means of escape. With a soft click, the door closes and her fate is sealed. But for what, she isn't certain.

It's probably rather comical, both of them just standing and watching each other in the dark room, with nothing but the moon through the large windows to light their surroundings.

"Good girl, Anna." The gentle caress of his praise fused toxically with his sharp and dangerous stare, and her blood goes cold even as sweat beads on her forehead.

She releases a trembling breath, swallowing hard before finding the courage to speak. "What are you doing here, sir?" If she weren't terrified out of her mind she'd admonish herself for sounding so weak, voice coming out breathless and desperate.

He cocks his head, moonlight shining on his blonde hair, and giving his already pale skin an almost ethereal quality. He had the markings of an angel, but his dark gaze spoke of something else entirely.