She reported the conversation to Anthony when he called her, and he was annoyed.
“That was my point earlier. I don’t want the House of Windsor telling us what to do. We should get married when we want to. We’re just getting started. What’s the hurry?”
“I’d rather wait awhile too. Twenty-three seems so young to get married. I kind of thought twenty-five or -six,” Annie said thoughtfully.
“Thirty-one seems young to me too. I used to think thirty-five was the right age for a man. We’ll know when it’s right. But it should be up to us. She’s going to put the heat on now. And can you imagine what she must have said to Victoria today? She must be having a fit over that.” She was, and had told her sister to break it off immediately before she disgraced herself again. Victoria was used to it by now. She’d been battling with her family over who she dated for twenty years, and seemed to take pleasure in shocking them, the public, and the press. Annie and Anthony didn’t want to be part of that.
Lord Hatton called Anthony for confirmation too, and said he was delighted about Annie. He couldn’t have made a better choice, and when were they getting married. He hoped it would be soon. Like the queen, he thought they should get out of the public eye and the press quickly, and marriage was the fastest way to do that. It seemed like the wrong reason to marry, to both of them.
Jonathan called to tell her he was thrilled, he liked Anthony immensely, and to do whatever she wanted. But the palace and even Anthony’s father were pushing for a fast marriage, which felt rushed to them. They refused to be pushed, much to the queen’s chagrin, but she had bigger problems with her sister.
* * *
—
Annie went to Saint Tropez with Anthony that summer for her holiday, and they were beleaguered by the paparazzi and followed everywhere and had to take refuge on a friend’s yacht, and sailed for Sardinia, where it happened all over again. It was endless. Whenever they went out, in London or any other city, even if they went to the grocery store, they wound up all over the tabloids, kissing, not kissing, holding hands, having an argument in the park once. Anthony was seriously annoyed about it.
“I don’t want them rushing us into marriage. And even if we get married, they’ll follow us around now. If we have a baby, have kids, get pregnant, go skiing. Whatever we do, they’re going to pursue us. I hate this.” He looked furious, and she didn’t like it either. “Do you want to get married now?” he asked her bluntly. “I’ll do whatever you want.” But it took the fun out of it, getting married because they were being pressured into it, by the queen or the tabloids.
“Not really,” she said honestly. “Why don’t we just call a moratorium on it, and make the decision in two years when I turn twenty-five. I’ll be ready then. You’ll be thirty-three. And screw what the tabloids think, or anyone else.”
“Sounds perfect to me,” he agreed. “Two years, and then we’ll jump in. Done.” He kissed her to seal the deal. It seemed like an unromantic decision, but the right one for them.
The press continued to follow them around after that. But not as avidly. They got bored with it without an engagement or a wedding date. And the queen continued to drop hints whenever she saw them, but she was much more upset about her sister, who seemed to enjoy creating scandals. She always had.
Annie and Anthony were happy as they were. She stayed with him when she was in London, and he stayed in her room at the stables now, since everyone knew about them anyway. His father lent him his house frequently. So everything calmed down, and their relationship continued. In their minds, they figured they’d get married, or at least engaged, in two years when Annie turned twenty-five. It seemed the right age to both of them. And to satisfy her longing to race, Anthony’s father convinced her to enter the Newmarket Town Plate that fall. It was the only women’s race under jockey club rules. She placed second and was jubilant. But it only made her hunger to race against men more acute. She entered again the following year and placed first. Shortly before her twenty-fifth birthday, before they could revisit their marriage plans, Annie got a call from a famous trainer in Lexington, Kentucky. He invited her to race for the stable he worked for, in the Blue Grass Stakes Thoroughbred race at Keeneland racecourse in Lexington. She would be competing against male jockeys for a million-dollar purse. It was a pari-mutuel race, the opportunity she’d longed for all her life. They had heard of her, and seen her race at the Newmarket Town Plate. She would be the first female jockey registered for the race in Kentucky, and her heart was pounding when she hung up after the call. She was so excited she could taste it. She had waited for this moment for years, and she knew she was ready. She had accepted on the phone, and now she had to tell Anthony. She hoped he’d be reasonable about it. She knew Lord Hatton would be excited for her, and Jonathan would too.