An Agent for Anna (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 13) Read online

“See you,” Jack replied, and the two men entered the building.

  Liam walked down the road for a bit before he saw an available hack, then he flagged it down and hired it to take him back to his parents’ home. All the way, over every rut and around every corner, his mind churned over the question of what he was to do. If the marriage was annulled at the conclusion of the case, that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, would it? Both he and the female agent would be free to marry someone else later on. But would that someone else want to marry someone who had gone through an annulment? He had to think about the future and not just about that day.

  He paid the hack driver and walked up to his parents’ front door, pausing before entering the house. He’d talk to his mother. She always knew what to say, even if she didn’t know when her roof was leaking. He’d take care of the roof and trust that she’d take care of his dilemma.

  Chapter Two

  Anna Gray tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she bent to her task. She disliked kneading bread. In fact, she disliked just about every household task there was, but if she didn’t do them, no one would. Her younger sister was considered too delicate, even though she was as healthy as a horse and twice as stubborn. Their mother actually was too delicate, and had been laid low by a devastating bout of pneumonia the previous winter. It was now July, but she’d never regained her strength. And their father? Much too preoccupied with work to realize that his meals didn’t magically appear out of thin air, that some effort had to be put into making them.

  And that the full burden of effort had landed on Anna.

  She’d thought several times over that she should speak with him about hiring some help. He had plenty of money—that wasn’t in doubt. That was the bargain he’d made—he’d traded in family time for work hours, and in return, he had more money than he needed, and yet less of a connection with those who loved him most. It was a shoddy exchange. Anna would do housework around the clock if it meant having her father in the home more often, but as things stood, she had no life of her own and no father. There was no reason for it.

  Emily entered the kitchen and leaned against the counter, her flaxen curls pinned up behind her and trailing down her neck. She looked lovely, and fragile, which was definitely her objective. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Pot roast and vegetables, bread and butter, and some pickles,” Anna replied. She divided the dough and began shaping it into loaves, noticing only after a moment of silence that Emily hadn’t responded. “What’s the matter?”

  “That just sounds so heavy,” Emily replied. “I’m not sure my system can handle it. I don’t suppose you could make me a light broth?”

  Anna shook her head. “I could, but Father said he was bringing Jeremy Tobler home for dinner tonight, and I think it might be rude to our guest if we aren’t all eating the same thing.”

  “Jeremy Tobler?” Emily’s eyes lit up. “I . . . suppose in a case like that, I could eat a regular meal. I’m sure that one serving won’t hurt me.”

  “Yes, it’s rather amazing how that works, isn’t it?” Anna placed the dough into the loaf pans, not making eye contact with her sister.

  “You know I struggle with my digestion,” Emily said. “I have to be careful.”

  “And yet whenever it suits you, you eat just as normally as the rest of us.” Anna wiped her hands, then faced her sister. “I noticed how well you did that week we spent at the White estate. Rich dinners every night, and yet you never had one moment of trouble. Perhaps it was the change in atmosphere, or the fact that you didn’t want to miss out on any of the fun.”

  Emily’s face grew pink. “I don’t care for what you’re insinuating.”

  “I don’t mean to insinuate anything. Instead, I’ll say it flat out—you are a faker, Emily. You make up these pretend diseases to get out of work and to avoid unpleasantness, and I’ve had it with pandering to you. It’s immature and irresponsible, and above all, you’re taking up the attention that should be paid to Mother.”

  “I . . . I . . .” Emily’s mouth opened and closed a few times. Then she made a little sound almost like a growl, spun on her heel, and stomped off, trying to slam the kitchen door, but that didn’t work because it was hung on a swinging hinge.

  Anna watched her go, feeling only a flicker of guilt. She didn’t like causing conflict in the home, but her tolerance for silliness was shrinking by the day, and as soon as Mr. Tobler left that night, she’d speak with her father about getting some help. She’d been a kind and dutiful daughter, but if things continued as they are, she was likely to run screaming down the street, having totally lost her mind.

  She laid out a beautiful table, then went upstairs to help her mother dress for dinner.

  “I’m afraid you’ve quite rattled Emily,” Venice Gray said as Anna guided her over to the dressing table. “Must you girls argue?”

  “We actually argue very little when compared to most sisters our age.” Anna picked up a hair brush and began to style her mother’s hair into the bun she liked best. “That’s because we don’t speak to each other very often.”

  “I wish things could be different.”

  Anna winced when she heard the regret in her mother’s voice. “I do too, Mother, but I just don’t understand her. She’s so self-absorbed, so unaware of everyone but herself. I’ve tried to get along with her, but we’re two entirely different people.”

  Venice chuckled. “She was just up here telling me that she doesn’t understand you, that you’re too judgmental and condescending.”

  “I’m just out of patience.”

  Venice reached out a trembling hand, and Anna took it. “Someday, the two of you will be the best of friends. Something will happen that will bind you together, and you’ll realize how pointless all this bickering has been.”

  “I can’t imagine anything that would bind us together,” Anna said.

  “It will most likely take something big—something like my death,” Venice replied. “But it will happen. You’ll see.”

  “Oh, Mother, I don’t want to talk about your death.” Anna immediately felt guilty for adding to her mother’s burdens. “You’ll be with us for years to come.”

  “I’d like to think so, but I’m not making plans for it. Only the Lord knows how many days are left to me, and I know better than to try second-guessing Him. It would be nice if you girls resolved things before then so I could see it happen, but I won’t make plans for that, either.”

  Anna didn’t have a response for that. There wasn’t one that seemed fitting. Instead, she turned her attention back to her mother, finishing her hair and then helping her down the stairs to the parlor, where she’d be comfortable until dinner.

  Then she turned and ran back up the stairs, changing her own dress without nearly the care she’d taken with her mother. It didn’t matter what she looked like—Mr. Tobler wasn’t there to see her.

  She fastened a simple necklace around her neck, then went out into the hallway, pausing outside Emily’s door. She lifted her hand to knock, but hesitated, disliking this task just as much as she did the others.

  “Yes?” Emily answered when she finally did knock. “Come in.”

  Anna entered the room and found Emily putting a final pin in her hair. “You look very nice,” she said.

  “Thank you. And you . . .” Emily turned and blinked. “You look like you dressed in a windstorm.”

  “I practically did. I’ve had a lot to do.” Anna took a breath to calm herself. She hadn’t come here to fight. “I spoke with Mother just now. She said she’d like it if you and I learned to get along before she dies so she’ll be here to see it.”

  “I wish she wouldn’t talk about dying. She has oodles of time left—I think she’s just being morbid.”

  Anna wanted to point out the irony of her sister saying that about their mother, but she held back. “The truth is, she might not have oodles of time. Haven’t you noticed how frail she’s been since the winter? She should be at her very best right now with these nice warm summer days, and yet she’s not.”

  “I’m sure she just needs time. She’s older—don’t older people take longer to recover?”

  “Emily, you’re not listening to me. She’s not doing well, and we need to honor her wishes.”

  Emily took a step back and held up a hand. “Gracious, you’ve certainly become intense all of a sudden. Very well. What do you want me to do?”

  “We need to stop arguing and at least try to get along. For Mother’s sake.”

  “I’m perfectly willing to be agreeable, but that doesn’t mean that we’ll ever see eye to eye. We’re entirely different, Anna. Mother should just accept that.”

  “I was just telling her how entirely different we are. We might have more in common than we think.”

  Emily shook her head. “I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s agree to co-exist peacefully at least while we’re in Mother’s presence. I doubt we’ll ever get further than that, but it’s a start, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s a start. Thank you for being willing to meet me halfway.”

  ***

  Dinner went smoothly. Mr. Tobler seemed to enjoy the meal, and he especially enjoyed Emily’s company. Venice had enough energy to contribute to the conversation, and Prescott Gray presided at the head of the table with his usual combination of charm and hospitality. Anna didn’t think it could have gone any better.

  After dinner, Mr. Tobler asked if he could escort Emily on a walk around the gardens, and Anna decided to take the opportunity to speak with her father about hiring some help. He was always more agreeable when he felt he was being a success, and the dinner had gone exceptionally well.

  He was pouring himself a small brandy when Anna summoned up her courage.

  “Father,
may I speak with you for a minute?”

  “Of course.” He placed the stopper back in the brandy bottle and turned to her. “What’s troubling you?”

  She glanced toward the window, where she could see Emily and Mr. Tobler chatting while pretending to examine the flowers. “I’d like to ask you to hire some additional help around here.”

  “Help? Whatever for? You’re doing a splendid job, Anna, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “That might be so, but I don’t like it, Father. I’m not naturally born to cook and clean—I’d like to do something else with my life, something that requires my brain more than my pots and pans.”

  He frowned into his brandy glass. “I always thought it was the duty of the oldest daughter to care for the home until she married, and if she never married, that would be her task forever. Your sister has a suitor, and you’ve none on the horizon—”

  “Because I’ve been here,” Anna reminded him. “I can’t attract a suitor if I never leave the house.”

  Prescott didn’t look pleased. He turned to his wife. “And what do you make of this, Venice? Is our daughter showing ingratitude?”

  “I think we’ve shown her a larger amount of ingratitude,” Venice said gently. “The girl has worked herself tirelessly, Prescott, when she deserves a life of her own. And to be honest, I’d much prefer us to have a trained professional nurse in the house. Anna has taken good care of me, but she’s not trained, and if something were to happen to me . . .”

  Prescott reached down and took her hand. “God forbid.”

  “Yes, of course, but we must plan for every eventuality. I’d like a nurse, Prescott, and we should honor Anna’s wishes and get some other help as well. A housekeeper or a cook—someone to take off the burden.”

  “I’ll have a nurse here first thing in the morning, but as to the others, I don’t know. My father raised me to believe that each member of the family should earn their keep, and I don’t find comfort in the fact that my daughter wants to pass her work off on someone else.”

  “But Emily does nothing to earn her keep,” Anna said before the memory of her truce with her sister came to the forefront of her brain. “How is this fair?”

  “Emily doesn’t have your strong constitution, and she’s about to be wed,” Prescott said. “Once she’s married, she won’t be in the home anyway.” He finished his brandy with one quick toss of his wrist. “I believe we’re done with this conversation. Your mother shall have a nurse, and we’ll continue on as before.”

  Anna tried not to cry as she helped her mother upstairs and into nightclothes. It all seemed so unfair.

  “He doesn’t understand because he’s not often here,” Venice said as she lay back against her pillows. “He’s not trying to be unreasonable.”

  “I think it’s unreasonable that he’s not here.” Anna arranged the blankets around her mother’s shoulders. “He’s not an unkind man, but he has no feelings when it comes to what goes on in this house. It’s like he’s a visitor here instead of a resident.”

  “That’s more true than I’d like to admit,” Venice said. “I’ll keep talking to him, my dear. You need the help—I’ve seen it, but I’ve never verbalized it, and I apologize for that. I should be championing your cause.”

  “It’s all right,” Anna replied. “Having a nurse here is an excellent first step. I’ve been worried about my ability to care for you too, especially if there was some kind of emergency, so this does lighten my concerns. As for the rest—well, I don’t imagine that Father’s heart will soften any time soon. I’ll just continue to make the best of it.”

  She checked to see that her mother had everything she needed for the night, and then she escaped to her own room. That was the most disastrous conversation she’d ever had with her father, and she’d certainly had her fair share of them over the years. They spoke two entirely different languages and lived in two worlds. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t get along with Emily—perhaps Emily took more after their father. Whatever the cause, she had no idea as to the solution. At least there would be a nurse. She’d focus on being grateful for that.

  Chapter Three

  “Well, now. That’s quite the dilemma.” Patience Mason pursed her lips as she studied the row she was knitting. “I understand that you don’t want to sit around and wait for a regular case, but I also understand that you don’t want to marry just anyone.”

  “Exactly. I’ve never thought marriage was something to play at—you and Father always set a better example for me than that.”

  “I’m certainly glad to know we did something right.” Patience smiled across the room at her husband of thirty years, who was snoring gently in his chair. He never could seem to stay awake long after dinner. “Liam, we raised you to believe in marriage, and we also raised you to do some good in this world. Just how you go about that is entirely up to you, whether as a single man or a married man or somewhere in between. Whatever you choose is all right with us—we trust your instincts.”

  “I’m not sure what my instincts are telling me,” Liam replied.

  “Hmm.” Patience continued to knit. “What was it that Miss Chapman said—something about finding a young lady you’d like to marry and then bringing her into the office? Is that an option?”

  “I haven’t even thought about young ladies for a number of years now. I’ve been concentrating on my career.”

  “So, there’s no one?” Patience’s face went from looking hopeful to downcast. “Does that mean I’m not going to have any grandchildren?”

  “There’s no one at the moment,” Liam amended. “That doesn’t mean it’s entirely out of the question.”

  “Well, let’s think about it this way. Maybe you don’t have to be in love with her—maybe you could just get along with her,” Patience suggested. “Do you have any female friends? What about the girls you went to school with?”

  “Anna Gray,” Liam said without hesitation. “She was one of my best friends before I went to New York.”

  “See? You could marry a good friend, couldn’t you? That would make the experience so much more pleasant.”

  “I don’t know what she’s up to these days,” Liam replied. “She could be married. She could have a child.”

  “She could have lost an arm in a tragic accident,” Patience added with a chuckle. “You can sit here and imagine all sorts of scenarios, but the only way to know for sure is to pay her a visit and find out for sure.”

  “I’ll think about it, Mother,” Liam said, standing up. “I’ve told the office I’ll let them know tomorrow.”

  “You certainly don’t give a girl a lot of time to decide her future, do you?”

  “I wish I had more time to give. I’ll likely end up waiting for the next assignment as it is. In the meantime, I have a roofer coming here in the morning.”

  “A roofer? Whatever for?”

  Liam glanced over at his father, who was still sleeping. “He didn’t tell you? You need some new shingles. It’s leaking into the attic when it rains.”

  “Oh.” Patience looked troubled. “You know, your father used to be right on top of all the house repairs.”

  “I do know that, Mother. But I’m here now. I can help.”

  She smiled. “Goodnight, Liam. Make a good choice.”

  Liam climbed the stairs to his old room, taking them slowly so he could look at the pictures that hung on the wall of the staircase. He and his parents looked so stiff and unnatural in all of them, but at least their faces were recorded. Time was a precious commodity, and so were memories. He wished there was a way to create more of them.

  He changed for bed, then lay in the darkness, thinking. Anna Gray—when was the last time she’d even crossed his mind? He’d taken a few university-level classes before heading off to New York, and he’d met Anna at the library while studying for a test on Shakespeare. He hadn’t thought the class to be very important, but his mother had insisted that he gain at least a little knowledge about the classics of literature, so there he was, muddling through Macbeth, and he fell into an easy conversation with the young woman sitting across from him at the study table.

  Since that initial meeting, they’d often studied together, and they’d invited other friends they gathered along the way. One by one, those other friends dropped away or graduated, but Anna was there right up until the time Liam left. She was an exceptionally pretty girl, very smart, easy to laugh with, and if he had to choose anyone to marry on the spur of the moment, it would be her.