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Dearest Anne Book 2 Chapter 3

September 26, 2020 08:54PM
Chapter Three

Once Anne had delivered Elizabeth’s message and had directed Mrs. Gardiner to the sweet shop, she waited in the shadows of the bookstore diagonally across the street until the Hanson cab carrying them disappeared round the corner. Nervously fingering the small, brown bottle that she always carried in her reticule, she crossed the street and ascended the steps to Dr. Fennimore’s door. Tentatively, she raised the knocker and with all the courage that was left to her on this emotionally exhausting day, she knocked twice.

He came to the door, his look of curiosity instantly changing to one of genuine delight when he saw her. “Miss Burton! Have you forgotten something? Is something amiss?” He peered round her in concern to see if Mrs. Darcy was by her side.

“No, Doctor. It is nothing like that. And Mrs. Darcy is on her way home with her aunt. I…I hoped you could spare me a few moments of your time. I have an important question that I would like to ask you.”

Bewildered, but curious, he opened the door wider to allow her to enter. “Of course! I am at your service, Miss Burton. How can I help you?” He motioned for her to come in, but she remained rigidly in her place on the landing.

“Forgive me, Doctor, but would it be possible for us to talk over a cup of tea?” She gestured towards the sweet shop, her cheeks coloring slightly. “It is not that I do not trust you,” she blurted out awkwardly. “It is just that I must be very careful…”

“No, no! You are right, of course. It was completely improper of me to invite you in. Forgive me, I was simply not thinking of propriety just then.”

Anne looked shyly down at her gloves. She was always putting this poor man on the defensive when he was doing nothing more than being instinctively kind and generous. If she continued so, he would soon come to despise her.

“Allow me to get my hat and coat, and I shall join you straight away,” he said with a warm smile. It was only then that she realized that he had appeared at the door in his vest, his neck cloth removed and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She nodded, blushed, and turned to wait for him at the bottom of the stairs.

Seated now at the table that he had originally occupied, Anne became increasingly nervous. Should she confide so much of her personal history to this stranger? Could she trust him to keep everything she told him only unto himself? If pressured by others, would he remain steadfast in his confidence? She clutched the bottle inside her reticule and trembled slightly.

Seeing her distress he struggled to think of what to do to relieve her discomfort.

“I hope you don’t mind, Miss Burton, but I think I shall have something more than a cup of tea. When you went flying out after your friend earlier, I was having my noonday meal, and as I never returned to it, I find myself quite hungry. Will you join me? You certainly could not have finished the meal you started. Or was it a pastry you were indulging in,” he asked with a teasing smile.”

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t think I could eat anything just…” She saw the disappointed look on his face and quickly changed her mind. “Well…perhaps I will have something…but only if you agree to be my guest.”

“Miss Burton!” was all he could say — the look of horror and genuine offense creasing his brow.

“It is the very least I can do after all the kindness you have shown me and Mrs. Darcy. After all, neither one of us thought to offer you any compensation for your work and…”

“I did not run out to help you with any thought of compensation!” he protested indignantly. “Surely you don’t believe that! I only did what any man would have done under the circumstances.”

“Yes, of course! I know that! I would not think so meanly of you…but you did also examine my friend and then took the time to write a note to her doctor. That was certainly more than any man would have done because of their inability to do so. But you are a doctor. It is your profession — the way you earn your living — and therefore, you should be compensated for your work. Now please, do not deny me the pleasure of thanking you properly by inviting you for a simple meal. I think I’ll have the cold plate of roast beef and salads. What will you have?” she asked very matter-of-factly, leaving him no way to refuse without making an even bigger fuss.

He looked intently into her face and sighed. “All right then. The roast beef plate sounds good to me as well. Thank you.”

She saw from the look in his eyes that he knew what she was doing. She had summed up his situation in the span of an hour, with no more than two-dozen words passing between them. She had seen right through him, it seems, and although it humbled him, he was glad of it. No need to dissemble with Anne-Marie Burton.

He placed the order with the serving girl and turned his attention back to her. She was much more relaxed now; the trembling was gone. “Well then, how can I help you, Miss Burton?” he began again.

She lowered her gaze, interlaced her fingers and stared at them.

“Doctor Fennimore, you will probably think it very odd that after such a short acquaintance, I wish to make such a personal and confidential request of you, but…my instincts tell me that you are a very fine man, a true gentleman … and as a doctor, I believe you are bound to keep confidential the things you learn about your patients. Is that not so?” She swallowed hard and waited for his reaction.

“It is unethical for a doctor to reveal private patient information, of course…but as a man, I would not betray anything told to me in confidence, in any case. Do you wish to become my patient, Miss Burton?”

“In a sense, yes.”

He looked at her curiously, his beautiful blue eyes never leaving her face.

“To help you understand, I must divulge some personal history. I do not do this lightly, Sir, and I hope it does not shock or offend you.”

“I am a physician, Miss Burton—very little shocks me, and I doubt that anything you ever say to me will be offensive.”

At that awkward moment their meal arrived — two cold platters and a basket of steaming rolls and butter. She saw his eyes light up as he turned back the napkin to offer her a roll. She took one, smiling at him, knowing that he could not wait to bite into one himself. She slowly buttered hers, giving him plenty of time to savor the bread before reclaiming his attention.

“I am not originally from London,” she said when she finally continued, “I was raised elsewhere, but left home because of family problems. I am at present not on the best of terms with my family.” She lowered her eyes to her plate, pretending to be engrossed in cutting her meat.”

Doctor Fennimore put both his knife and fork down and gazed at her compassionately. “I know all about family problems, Miss Burton. I do sympathize.”

“Well, actually, there is no need for sympathy, really. I am happier now than I have ever been. I love being responsible for myself, and I believe that I have grown a great deal since I left home. There is one obstacle, however, one that I cannot overcome on my own — and that is why I seek your assistance.”

He nodded, picking up his utensils and enthusiastically digging into his food. She could see how much he was enjoying it.

“I have been in frail health all my life, Dr. Fennimore, and have depended on certain tonics and medications to keep up my strength. When I left home, I took all the medicines in the house, but none of the bottles have any markings that suggest what they contain. Our physician sends them automatically twice a year, I believe. Obviously, as I do not wish my family to know my whereabouts, I cannot contact him to obtain more. I have no doubt that my mother has her spies out everywhere searching for me and has undoubtedly contacted this physician. I’m sorry to burden you with such a personal matter, but it is the only way I can make you understand what I need and why I depend on your discretion.”

Anne put down her fork and looked pleadingly into Simon Fennimore’s eyes. “I have been on my own for many months now, and in all other aspects of my life I have done very well. But in all this time I have not been able to figure out how to obtain this medication. When I saw your laboratory today, I realized that fate had brought us together for this reason. Is it unlawful for you to analyze and duplicate another physicians’ prescription? Am I asking you to do anything unethical? Can you do it? Will you help me?” Her questions flew from her lips in rapid succession; her eyes searched his face with hope and trepidation.

“Yes, of course, I will help you, and no, unless this physician has patented his own formula, we have every right to make more of it. Do you have a sample of it with you?”

The strain that had etched itself on her face now faded in relief as she smiled and opened her reticule. “I pour a dose into this small bottle every morning and carry it with me, just in case.”

“Does it relieve your symptoms then. Does it really help you?”

“In all honesty, I cannot say. I sometimes think that it does, but then at other times I feel no better and sometimes worse. But everyone assures me that without it I would not be alive today. I must take it twice daily as it has a cumulative effect. There is still about a month’s supply, but then…”

“How often do you see this doctor? Does he live near by your previous home?”

“Oh no! He is a very well known, London physician. In fact, I haven’t seen him in many years – since I was was a child. Our local doctor sees to my minor ailments and informs him of any real concerns, I believe.”

“But the medications come directly from the London physician?” asked Fennimore, his face betraying his growing distress.

“Why yes! Is there anything wrong with that? He is one of the most respected doctors in all of England.”

“Miss Burton,” said Fennimore heatedly, “do you not realize that doctors make most of their income from the tonics and powders they sell? For this man to continue to treat you with the same medication he prescribed years ago — regardless of how your condition may have changed — is shameless! Who is this man?”

“I do not wish to tell you,” murmured Anne. “The fewer particulars you know about me the better.”

“If you have so little faith in me, Miss Burton, then perhaps you should not be trusting me with your health.” He put the brown bottle forcibly down between them on the table, glaring at her.

Anne jumped at the sound, but said nothing; her eyes filled with tears.

The look on her sweet face defeated him almost immediately. After a few moments, he picked up the bottle, put it in his vest pocket and reached out to cover her hand with his.

“I’m sorry. I shall analyze this as quickly as I can and let you know what is in it and if I can duplicate it myself. If I cannot, I shall send it to a friend who can. Your secret is safe with me, Miss Burton. I do get rather angry when I hear of, so called, respected physicians taking advantage of unsuspecting patients and playing havoc with their lives.”

She sighed. With flushed cheeks and watery eyes she gave him a shy, but grateful smile. The warmth of his hand on hers comforted her to the depths of her soul.

“I have a condition of my own, though,” he now said earnestly. “If I duplicate this medication and give it to you, then in affect, I am saying that I approve of it. So…if I am to prescribe it, I must take you on as a patient and monitor your health myself. And if I believe that this medication has been wrongly prescribed, I shall not permit you to take it. Those are my terms, Miss Burton, and they are hard and fast.”

*****

From an upstairs window where she was dusting the draperies, Janet, one of the Darcy parlor maids, saw the hansom cab pull up to the front entrance and watched as Mrs. Gardiner stepped out. She only needed to glimpse the corner of her Mistress’s heather pelisse before running out of the room and calling for Mrs. Reynolds.

“The mistress is back! She’s back already!” cried Janet, racing down the stairs to find the Pemberley housekeeper deep in conversation with Mrs. Pritchet, the London housekeeper. Both ladies simply stared at her.

“What are you babbling about, girl? The mistress is not due back for a few hours yet, and James is in the kitchen having something to eat before he goes back to fetch her. Now go back to your duties and stop making a nuisance of yourself, ” scolded Mrs. Pritchet.

“But they have just arrived in a cab, Mrs. Pritchet. I saw Mrs. Gardiner get out.”

“Good heavens! Can’t that young woman stand to be separated from her child for more than two minutes together?” barked Mrs. Pritchet, taking off her apron as she hastened to the front door. There she collided with the butler who was just at the point of opening it, and to her great surprise was greeted by a rather grave looking Mrs. Gardiner who, without so much as a nod, asked her to turn down her mistress’s bed and have tea brought up to her bedchamber.

Having noticed Mrs. Gardiner’s tight grip on Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Reynolds came to stand protectively on the other side of her. James, with his napkin still tucked at his throat now appeared breathless, shame faced and anxious.

“Did I misunderstand the time I was to pick you up, Mistress? Why did ye not send word for me to come and fetch ye? I…”

“Everyone, please stop fussing!” said Elizabeth. “James, you understood me perfectly. Mrs. Pritchet, I will have a rest, but you needn’t turn down the bed. I’ll just lie on the chaise with a coverlet…and in an hour or so, Mrs. Gardiner and I will have a simple lunch in the breakfast room. I’m sorry to have altered everyone’s plans, but I felt a bit lightheaded earlier and took a little spill. I am all right, though. No harm done,” she hastily added at the sound of their gasps, “but…it was obviously advisable for me to return home.”

Everyone murmured their agreement, but instead of going on about their business, stood gaping at their mistress with great concern.

“Really,” said Elizabeth laughing. “I am perfectly well. Ladies faint every day! Everyone knows that.”

“Yes, ladies that lace their corsets so tight they can’t breathe,” said Mrs. Reynolds. “Not sensible, healthy girls like you!”

“Mrs. Reynolds!” gasped Mrs. Pritchet, swatting her friend and colleague with her apron. “There’s a gentleman present.”

James was attempting to slink away, but Mrs. Gardiner stopped him, saying, “James, please go to Dr. Morrison’s surgery and ask him to come as soon as may be…”

“No, James, please don’t say that. Tell him that I have fainted, that I am now at home safe and sound, and that when he is able, I would like him to make a visit. Tell him specifically not to cancel any other patients to see me. Tomorrow will do just as well.”

“Elizabeth, dearest!” said Mrs. Gardiner, “do you not wish to get to the bottom of this? I am certain Mr. Darcy will be very concerned.”

“I am not ill, Aunt, and as you already know, I was given a good report by Dr. Fennimore — so a few hours here or there will not matter.” Elizabeth stopped to look up at Nanny Henderson looking rather irritated at the top of the stairs. She understood very well what that expression meant.

“Is Edward behaving himself this morning, Nanny? Please do not let on that I am home just yet; I wish to rest. But Mrs. Gardiner will wish to see him before she leaves, so we’ll be in later.”

Being now at a loss for words, Nanny nodded and returned to the nursery as Elizabeth and her entourage slowly made their way up the stairs.

*****

“I think it very amusing that Mrs. Reynolds still considers you a girl, Elizabeth! I thought Mrs. Pritchet would faint herself when she made that remark,” chuckled Mrs. Gardiner between sips of her tea.

“Well, I sometimes think that she still envisions Fitzwilliam as her darling boy come home from school,” Elizabeth replied. “He has never really grown up in her eyes. But that is only because she loves him so dearly.”

“And what surprises me even more is how well she and Mrs. Pritchet get on. It is quite amazing.”

Well, they both know how much we esteem them. Each lady has her own domain and has nothing to fear from the other. But as we have been in town for so long and intend to remain until the end of the season for Georgiana’s sake, it seemed only reasonable to give Mrs. Reynolds a change of scene. Besides, she wrote every week begging to be allowed to come and see Edward…And it never hurts to have another pair of trusted eyes and ears.”

“Don’t you trust Nanny Henderson, Elizabeth?”

“I do trust her — but not as much as I trust Mrs. Reynolds,” said Elizabeth with an arch look.

Her gaze then fell on her reticule and the note from Dr. Fennimore lying beneath it and her demeanor changed completely.

“Elizabeth, dearest! I’m afraid that you are far more concerned about this incident than you are willing to let on. Your distress is clearly visible. I think we should send another message to Dr. Morrison and ask him to come today, whatever the hour.”

”No, aunt, you misread my expression entirely. I am not half so worried as you imagine. But I must own that I was reliving it all just now and remembered what I felt once I awoke and realized what could have happened. I pictured Edward and Fitzwilliam and I…” She could not continue, but dissolved into tears, holding her face in her hands and sobbing.

“Oh, my dearest!” said Mrs. Gardiner holding her close. “What a frightening experience it must have been…but it is over, and you are safe at home. Your child is happy and content in his nursery and your husband is on his way home to you. You must not let it haunt you, Elizabeth.”

“No, you are right; I shan’t let it. But I am suddenly very tired. Perhaps I will stretch out on the bed and take a nap after all. Would it be very rude of me to excuse myself and neglect you?”

“Of course not! I shall go and play with Edward a bit and then go home to my own brood. Rest well, my dear, and send me word as soon Dr. Morrison has left you.”

“I will; I promise. Thank you aunt Gardiner, for being such a good friend.”

Mrs. Gardiner kissed her niece’s brow and left her to rest, but Elizabeth had another objective in mind. As soon as she was sure that her aunt was well down the hall, she rose slowly and taking up Dr. Fennimore’s note, took it to the window. It was sealed, and she would not, and could not, open it. But determined to know what the note contained, she pinched the folded edges together and peered inside. She was only able to make out a few words here and there, and they were all very ordinary. But towards the bottom of the page she saw these words: “… likely … simply with child and …”

Simply with child? No, that could not be! She was still nursing Edward. That was what she had counted on and what she had told Fitzwilliam when she… No, it was impossible! They needed more time. They had hardly slept these past six months and were looking forward to a little respite. Besides, Edward deserved to be an only child for a little longer. It was too soon! It could not be! And if it was true, it was all her fault!

But in her heart she knew it to be true — the smell of the eggs this morning, the dazed, slightly confused feelings, the light-headedness. She did not need Dr. Morrison to confirm what she already knew. She was carrying another child, and Fitzwilliam would not be happy. Oh, he would say all the right things, of course, and they would surely come to love this child as much as they did Edward, but it was not what they had planned for themselves for the next eight months and beyond. It would not be easy. And with Anne to worry about and protect, she didn’t know how she would find the strength. But she alone was to blame for her situation.

*****

“Mrs. Pritchet, Mrs. Reynolds, I wish to tell my husband of today’s events in the privacy of our rooms, so please be sure that no one mentions my coming home early or Dr. Morrisons’s visit this afternoon. We’ll be four for dinner tonight. The Colonel will be joining us,” said Elizabeth, as the two housekeepers straightened her bed, and she sat by her dressing table rearranging her hair. The doctor had just departed, confirming her suspicions, and she had no doubt as to the very moment she had conceived.

Dinner was a very lively affair, as it always was when both Richard and Georgiana were present. While Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam’s lives now revolved around Edward and their small circle of friends, both Richard and Georgiana had a great deal to grumble about concerning their individual quests for a life partner. Georgiana had met no one at all that she felt she could care for at the many lavish balls, dinner parties and outdoor entertainments she had attended. And Richard had one awful war story after another to tell — though they had absolutely nothing to do with his profession as a soldier. Darcy laughed heartily at his cousin’s tales of woe, told with great wit and sarcasm, but understood only too well the great longing he felt. Richard wanted a wife he could love and was very ready to give up his bachelorhood for the warmth and comfort such a love could provide. But finding a woman who would hold him in high esteem and who would want him as much as he wanted her, would not be easy as a second son. And he had no desire to be beholden to a father or mother-in-law who believed that he owed them his gratitude and obedience because he had gotten the better end of the bargain — or a wife who felt herself superior for the same reason.


After dinner, the ladies entertained the gentlemen with some duets they had been practicing, but before too long, Elizabeth announced that she was very tired and begged to be excused. She knew that Fitzwilliam would soon follow, after a game or two of billiards or a quiet smoke in the library with Richard.

When he finally entered their bedchamber she was propped up in bed reading, wearing a beautiful new nightdress. Her hair, which she had left unbraided, was tied back loosely with a satin ribbon. He was surprised to see her thus, having expected to find her already asleep.

“I thought you were exhausted, my love?”

“I was tired, but more than anything I wanted to be alone a bit — and to encourage you to follow my example. I hope Richard was not offended.”

“No, of course not! Besides, if he is to treat this house as his own and turn up every other day for dinner and a bed, he must not expect to be treated like a guest. Edward is taxing on all of us, but none more than you, Elizabeth.”

She smiled at him sweetly and returned to her book. “Come to bed, Fitzwilliam,” she murmured as she turned the page. Her husband dutifully undressed and sank down beside her, sighing deeply as he stretched out on his back and closed his eyes.

Placing her book on the bedside table, Elizabeth now turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow and looking lovingly at his handsome face. His eyes were still shut, and she kissed each lid before saying, “I have something to tell you, Fitzwilliam—something you must know.”

He moaned softly and nodded, refusing to open his eyes, yet making it clear that she had his undivided attention. “What is it, darling? You make it sound so ominous.”

“Oh, no, it is good news really…I think…though I’m afraid my day started out rather badly.

This statement certainly brought a swift reaction. His eyes opened wide as he rolled onto his side and raised himself up to face her. “What do you mean badly? Is Aunt Gardiner all right? Were you not able to meet?”

“Yes, we did, and we had a very pleasant lunch together once we arrived home — only an hour after we were scheduled to meet.” She saw the concerned look on his face and got to the point immediately. “Fitzwilliam, I felt a little dizzy this morning and…well, I’m afraid I fainted.”

“Fainted?” He had bolted upright and was now hovering over her anxiously. “When…no, where did this happen? And why did you not send me word, Elizabeth? Did you send for Dr. Morrison?”

Elizabeth brought her fingers up to cover his mouth, smiled, and then sliding them over to caress his cheek, said, “Hush, I have seen Dr. Morrison and am perfectly well, Fitzwilliam. Now come lie back down beside me and I shall tell you all.” She held out her arms as she often did to invite his head onto her chest and stroked his curls when he was comfortably settled. Then she continued with her story.

“I was a few minutes early for my appointment with Aunt Gardiner, so I walked down the street, looking in the shop windows. When I suddenly felt unsteady, I looked for a place to sit down and saw that there was a café or sweet shop, or something of the sort, just across the street. I waited until I felt better, then made the attempt to cross. The next thing I knew, I was seated inside the shop, surrounded by the lady and gentleman who had saved me from falling, the shop’s proprietor and his wife. They all said that I had only been out for a moment or two and that it had not even been necessary to use the smelling salts to revive me. In any case, the young gentleman introduced himself as a physician and offered to give me quick examination to ascertain if I was in serious danger — which I was not. The young lady then went to fetch Aunt Gardiner and she and I arrived home in a cab. There, that is the whole story,” she concluded.

“Hardly, Elizabeth,” said her husband raising his head to peer into her face. “What did Dr. Morrison say? Why did you faint in the first place?”

“Well, the reason is very common, actually. There is no need to worry.” She hesitated, looking very much like a small child who dreaded telling her father she had broken his favorite pipe. But it was no use delaying. She knew exactly what was to come.

“It is not unusual for ladies who are early in their pregnancies to faint — though I never did with Edward.”

It was as if he had not heard her, for he neither moved a muscle nor said a word. Then slowly lifting himself up on the bed, he stared into her face and asked in wonder, “You are with child? I thought you said it wasn’t possible as long as you were nursing Edward.”

There! He had reacted exactly as she knew he would. He was shocked and not entirely pleased, though he would now do everything in his power to convince her he was happy with the news.

“Yes, indeed, that is what I had been led to believe — and I did believe it! But Dr. Morrison said that once a woman decreases the number of times she nurses her child a day, there is a greater risk of conception. For the past month Edward has been eating other foods as well, and I suppose that is why…” Here she stopped, a little sob escaping her throat, the tears that were welled up in her eyes now catching the glow of the candlelight.

“My darling, what is this? Are you unhappy at the thought of another so soon?”

“Oh Fitzwilliam, do not dissemble with me. I am no more upset than you are. You know it is too soon for all three of us. But it is I who am responsible for the predicament we now find ourselves in, and I am very sorry and heartily ashamed.” She drew up the hand she had been holding and brought it to her lips, covering it with kisses.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, but last I heard, a lady, no matter how beautiful, intelligent or accomplished, still needs the assistance of a gentleman to create a child.”

“Yes,” she said softly, looking into his loving eyes, “but it only takes one to be so selfish, so manipulative and deliberately seductive when the other is being so careful, so willing to sacrifice his own pleasure…”

“My darling wife! If you think that I have felt neglected these past six months, you know not the power of your love. Have we not loved and pleased each other to great satisfaction, with passion and ever growing tenderness?”

“Precisely! And yet that night it was not enough for me, and I had to have you! I behaved shamelessly! I left you no choice!”

“No, indeed, you did not, my little vixen, and no man could have resisted you. Elizabeth, few men go to their graves ever having experienced such happiness — knowing that the woman they love desires them as much as they are desired. You gave me a gift that I shall hold in my heart and treasure forever, and now G-d, in his wisdom, has blessed us with his gift. I was surprised when you first told me, Elizabeth, but I am pleased — a bit overwhelmed and a bit frightened,” he chuckled, “but pleased.”

She had known that he would make her feel better, but the fact that he could also make her laugh at herself astonished her. For so many hours now, she had been distressed, more about Anne and the secret she had been forced to keep, than the baby really. But both dilemmas had weighed so heavily on her, and suddenly she felt light and easy and comforted. He was kissing her neck now, his hands having slid beneath her back, lifting her off the bed and crushing her body against his.

“Fitzwilliam!” she said, drawing his head back firmly by his thick, beautiful hair. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the damage is done, my love, so we might as well enjoy it. You can’t remind me of that incredible night and not expect to whet my appetite.”

She laughed and caressed him as he resumed his loving attention of her. Then suddenly, he raised his face to hers and asked, “This physician…what is his name? I must go and thank him in the morning. He deserves a great reward for so gallantly protecting you.”

“I don’t think he’ll accept payment, Fitzwilliam. My impression of him is that he would consider it insulting. But you can certainly bring him a gift. His name is Simon Fennimore and he resides in Crestwood Lane, near Rosewood.
SubjectAuthorPosted

Dearest Anne Book 2 Chapter 3

Gaby A.September 26, 2020 08:54PM

Re: Dearest Anne Book 2 Chapter 3

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Re: Dearest Anne Book 2 Chapter 3

SaraleeSeptember 27, 2020 05:10AM

Re: Dearest Anne Book 2 Chapter 3

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Re: Dearest Anne Book 2 Chapter 3

EvelynJeanSeptember 27, 2020 01:08AM

Re: Dearest Anne Book 2 Chapter 3

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