Anne seemed strangely attached to the children. There had been that afternoon when he had found her almost in the arms of Jack and had found out only when he was thoroughly enraged that she had been up in the tree rescuing a ball, of all things. And several times since, he had seen her in the garden in conversation with one or other of the little ones, usually that strange, grave elder girl. When Claude had demanded to know her whereabouts the previous morning because she was needed for a scene that he wanted to go over, Celia had said that she was upstairs playing with the children. Merrick had not pictured his wife as a woman who might be fond of children.

He was still angry with her. He had not talked to her except when necessary or as part of the dialogue of the play since three evenings before when she had gone out walking during the evening with Jack. It had been a deliberate taunt on her part, he felt sure. She had agreed to go only because she realized he was listening. She seemed intent on making him jealous or angry; he was not quite sure what her motive was. Did she really think she had the power to make him jealous? She was his wife, that was all, to be used for his own convenience for the few days that remained before he could send her back to the country again and return to the more congenial company of Eleanor. But he was going to make his displeasure known to her as soon as a convenient moment presented itself.

The moment came during an afternoon four days before the ball when the actors had banded together and announced that if they were to have any of their humanity remaining so that they might be gracious to the guests when they arrived, they must have some time to themselves. The Fitzgerald offspring were invited to a picnic and everyone went, except for the duke and duchess and the older generation. Even the children were allowed the treat of joining their elders. The site chosen was a large shaded lake into which the waters of the stream and the marsh finally emptied themselves. A small wooden shed, now sadly in need of a coat of paint, still held some boats, which had been much in use when the duke and duchess had been younger and when the present picnickers were children, either for circling the lake or for sailing through the navigable waterways of the marsh and under the arches of the bridge.

"Papa, Papa," Davie yelled when he discovered the contents of the shed, "take us out in the boat. Oh, famous. Can we fish?"

"You know Kitty is frightfully nervous of water," Meggie said. "It would not be fair to her if we dragged off Papa so early, Davie."

"Pooh," said her brother. "She is just a stupid girl. She can stay with Mamma and Cousin Anne. Come on, Papa."

But, as it turned out, Kitty gathered together her courage when she knew that her mamma was willing to ride in a boat and hold her close. Soon the family was being rowed from shore by Stanley, Davie loudly excited, Meggie sitting primly on her seat, instructing her brother to sit still before he overturned them all into the water.

Jack, Freddie, Miss Fitzgerald, and Rose soon followed in a second boat. Claude called after them, warning them not to go too far as it seemed likely to rain before the afternoon was out.

"I will have no use for a company of actors with hacking coughs or pneumonia on the night of the performance," he yelled.

Jack waved gaily back and put an arm around Rose's shoulder as the boat tipped alarmingly. Since the water was perfectly calm at that moment, it was not at all clear what had caused the near accident, but Jack was obviously not chancing a recurrence that might dump his companion overboard. He kept his arm where it was.

Everyone else sat down on the grass or pulled the picnic baskets from one of the gigs they had brought with them. More than one of them glanced uneasily at the sky, wondering if they would have a chance to eat before the rain came. It seemed so unfair, Hortense said, that the weather was breaking now, just when they had wangled a free afternoon for themselves. There had not been a drop of rain since they arrived more than a week before, and for most of that time they had been cooped up indoors trying to act.

"Shall we walk, Anne?" She looked up, startled, into her husband's face from her kneeling position on the ground, where she was straightening out one of the blankets they had brought with them to sit on.

"Yes, of course," she said, getting rather hesitantly to her feet and smoothing out the skirt of her pink wool dress. She picked up her shawl from the ground, where she had flung it while busy with the blankets.

She took Merrick's arm and he led her along the grassy margin of the lake, away from the marshy side. The towering old trees that grew almost to the water's edge were reflected sharply in the glassy surface of the water. There was not a breath of wind.

"It is quite lovely here," Anne said. "I do believe that if the land had been mine before the house was built, I would have chosen a site close to this lake. It seems sad that such a beautiful spot should be seen so rarely. I did not even know it existed until today."

"I am not at all pleased with your behavior, madam," Merrick said.

"What?"

"I believe you heard me," he said, "and I believe you know the causes of my displeasure."

"Indeed I do not," Anne replied, "except that you did not wish me to be here at all. What have I done, pray?"

"I am well aware," he said, "that when I met you, you were very much a spinster who had been left on the shelf, so to speak. You lured me into marriage, whether deliberately or unintentionally I neither know nor care at this late date. But I do know you are an opportunist. You saw your chance to come here and meet all the members of my family, and you maneuvered it so carefully that even I cannot accuse you absolutely of having openly disobeyed me. And I have watched you, madam, inveigle yourself into the good graces of one after another of my relatives here. What do you hope to accomplish, Anne? Do you hope that if enough of my cousins and uncles speak favorably of you to me and show disapproval of my living apart from you, I shall take you with me when we leave here?"

"Alexander," Anne said. She still held his arm, but she looked out across the lake, her chin held high. "My experience of the world has been necessarily small. I have not met a great many people in my life. But I believe I would have to travel a wide area and a long time to find another man as conceited as you. Why, pray, would I wish to live with you? So that I might gaze on your handsome person every day and tell myself what a grand catch I have made? So that I might listen to you list my shortcomings every day and grow more and more sensible of the great honor you have done me by condescending to marry me? You flatter yourself, my lord."

Merrick stopped walking and turned to face her. A quick glance showed him that they were out of sight of the group sitting on the bank. "Since when have you decided that you may talk to me like this?" he asked. "You forget yourself, I believe, madam, and to whom you speak."

"You are Alexander Stewart, Viscount Merrick, and my husband," Anne said coolly, looking directly into his eyes. "And I would you were not."

He stared at her, completely dumbfounded for a moment. "Have you taken leave of your senses?" he said. "You are my wife, Anne, whether you like it or not. If you believe you can speak to me as you wish and defy me and flirt openly with other men before my eyes, you will be forced to learn the truth in a most painful way, I can assure you."

"Flirt?" she said, eyebrows raised. "Have you really seen me flirting, Alexander? And with whom, pray? I do believe I smiled at Grandpapa this morning."

He caught her by one arm and shook her. "Come, madam," he said, "this defiance and sarcasm and assumed innocence do not suit you. My cousin Jack has been a womanizer since he was little more than a boy. He cannot resist trying to prove that he can conquer every pretty woman he meets. And it matters not to him whether the woman be married or not. In fact, I do believe he prefers his women to be already married. There is less likelihood that he will be trapped into marrying them himself. And I must say from personal experience that I can now appreciate his reasoning. Don't make the mistake, Anne, of believing that he is really interested in you. He merely wishes to amuse himself and enrage me. You make a fool of yourself by playing his game."