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English
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Trick or Treat Exchange 2019
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Published:
2019-10-17
Words:
429
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
10
Kudos:
104
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4
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1,752

her spirits wanted the solitude

Summary:

While Frederick is away at sea, Anne keeps unexpected company.

Notes:

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

All fondness, Anne Wentworth refolded the letter she had carried with her since its receipt a week past. She had memorized its contents upon her third perusal, but still she opened it to reread whenever the chance came upon her. 

Something about the familiar strokes of her husband’s pen set her at ease. “My dearest Anne—” followed by tales of his time at sea—to say nothing of his words of devotion—never failed to fill her heart. While she would much have Frederick here, at her side, for now, his letters would have to do.

Soon, however, Anne would not have to make do.

“Only one more day,” she announced to the empty parlor, no longer feeling as foolish as when she had done it first, “and then Frederick will be home.”

When her teacup rattled in its saucer in reply, Anne did not startle. A sharp thrill raced down her spine, as it did every time something unexplained happened in the house, but her outward placidity remained in place. She picked up her tea and took a sip, grateful for the reminder to drink it before it went cold. 

“Thank you,” she said genteelly polite as ever. Even as shivers coursed down her arms with the caress of an unearthly breeze across her neck. Anne pulled her shawl close when the chill gave no indication of departing. Her cup now empty, the heat was fading fast from the porcelain, leaving her fingers cold. She set it back down and was refilling it as she informed her invisible companion, “Soon, you will have better company than I. It shall be so nice to have him back. I’m sure you will like—”

Something jostled her arm, far more corporeal than anything she had yet experienced from her houseguest—though, she had considered that perhaps she and Frederick were the true visitors—and tea splashed out of the pot and onto the table, soaking her letter.

“Oh, do be careful!” Anne gently chided, rising to rummage through her sewing basket for a handkerchief. So armed, she returned to the table and dabbed away the tea, leaving the paper damp and stained, but still legible. “There,” she pronounced. “No harm done.” Her fingers traced over the memorized words, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I have missed him so.

At her murmur, the patch of cold removed itself from her shoulder, ruffling the curtains with some force as it departed. 

Anne took no note, already falling back under the spell of her husband’s words and her ever-blooming love for him.