The Headstrong Ward

by Jane Ashford

  “Has he, by Jove?” Edward strolled toward her. “I wish I might have seen that. But who is Augustus?”

  She lifted the cloth again. “My parrot.”

  “Your…” Captain Debenham blinked at the bird, then stared at her. “But you can’t be…that is…you are not Anne?”

  She returned his gaze.

  Very uncharacteristically, Edward flushed. “That is…of course, you must be. I should have seen it at once. But you look so… I thought you must be someone else…but then, the parrot… Anne would have…I mean…”

  Anne fought a smile. “Talking of reputations preceding one, it seems I have the same problem.”

  With an engaging grin, Edward spread his hands. “I shan’t try to redeem myself. I have never in my life made such a shocking blunder. But you have changed a good deal, you know.” He surveyed her with more care and obvious approval. “You look splendid, in fact.”

  Something in his tone made Anne answer sweetly, “That must be a great relief to you.”

  “Yes, it… No, dash it, nothing of the kind.”

  Unable to restrain herself any longer, the girl burst into peals of laughter.

  Edward grinned with relief. “I remember that laugh, at least. You may look different, but the old Anne is still there.” He lifted the cage cover and peered in. “This bird is evidence of that.”

  “Bacon-brain!” screeched Augustus again.

  “Very perceptive,” agreed Lord Wrenley from the doorway. “The creature has more taste than I realized.”

  “He called you a heathen,” Anne pointed out.

  “No, did he really?” asked Edward. “And what did Charles do?” He dropped the cloth and joined the others in walking toward the fireplace.

  “I very wisely ignored it,” responded his brother, “realizing that a parrot can mean nothing when it speaks.”

  “That is not what Miss Branwell thinks.” Anne grinned mischievously.

  “Lord, have you met the Branwell already?” exclaimed Edward.

  “I passed Laurence on the stairs,” said Lord Wrenley, and in the next moment, the third Debenham brother indeed joined them. Anne flushed slightly. She hoped Laurence had not overheard her remark; its content had been inoffensive, but the tone was not.

  “Well, here we all are,” declared Edward.

  “All but Cousin Mariah,” agreed the viscount. “I wonder what can be keeping her.”

  “Cousin…? Oh, Anne’s chaperone, eh? She here already?” Edward looked vaguely toward the door.

  “In the house, yes,” replied Charles caustically. “In the drawing room, obviously not.”

  His tone seemed exaggeratedly harsh to Anne. She looked from one to the other of the brothers, but none seemed surprised by the exchange.

  In the next moment, Mariah joined them. “I am sorry to be late,” she said as she walked in. “I was looking over the back parlor, the one you have given me for my plants, Charles, and I lost track of the time.”

  The viscount inclined his head briefly, then introduced Edward.

  “Oh, yes,” answered Mariah, holding out her hand. “You are the last of them. How do you do?”

  Looking bemused, Captain Debenham shook her hand. “Very well, thank you.”

  She nodded absently and turned back to their host. “Are you certain that is the sunniest room in the house, Charles? The windows are not overlarge.”

  “No, the sunniest is the dining room, but you cannot have that.”

  Mariah’s eyes narrowed, but then she shook her head regretfully. “No, I suppose that would be inconvenient.”

  “Very,” agreed the viscount.

  “Well, the parlor will have to do, then, but I shall have trouble with my borders.”

  “Your…borders?” echoed Edward, fascinated.

  But just then, Fallow came in to announce dinner, and the subject was lost in the general exodus.

  Anne found the meal a little strange. Her only real experience of family gatherings had been at the Castletons’, and that noisy happy group was quite unlike the one around the Debenham table. Edward did laugh and joke, and Laurence kept up a stream of pleasant conversation, but the overall feeling of the occasion never matched the Castletons’ warmth. Mariah remained distracted; she had brought a sheet of paper and a pencil to the table and was drawing arcane diagrams throughout dinner. And it seemed to Anne that Charles missed no opportunity to blight the others’ efforts at conviviality. His smiles were all thin sarcastic ones and his remarks chilling. His presence seemed to cast a pall over both Edward and Laurence, in different ways. Laurence became more solemn than usual, and Edward more impudent and extravagant. By the time the ladies rose from the table, Anne felt she had a great deal to think over.

  Since returning home, her ideas on a number of subjects had undergone revision. She still resented the way Charles had treated her, but she now realized that it had not been a personal vendetta. He was the same with his own brothers. And the whole family was shadowed by it. Something, decided Anne, ought to be done. But she did not know precisely what, or even where to begin finding out. Only one thing was clear to her: her own view had been narrow. She must observe and ponder before she would truly understand the Debenhams, or her own position among them.

  The gentlemen joined them in the drawing room after a short interval. As he walked in, Edward said, “What are the plans for the season, Anne? You are to have a ball, of course.”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it.” She looked to Lord Wrenley.

  “A ball, certainly. In three or four weeks’ time. I thought to leave the date to you.”

  “And the arrangements?” asked Edward maliciously.

  “Will be put in competent hands.”

  “Not yours?”

  “No, Edward, not mine.” Lord Wrenley eyed his youngest brother with sardonic amusement.

  “Well, you can’t expect Anne to organize her own ball,” persisted Captain Debenham.

  “I’ll wager I could,” said Anne.

  “No doubt,” responded Charles, “but you will be far too busy to do so. Mrs. Brigham and Fallow are quite capable of handling the household arrangements, and Laurence will compile the guest list.”

  The latter looked up in surprise. “I?”

  “No, let me do it, Charles,” said Edward, his gray eyes sparkling.

  “Laurence,” repeated the viscount. “You are free to offer suggestions, but the final decision is his.”

  “But, Charles, I really don’t think—”

  “I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job,” finished Lord Wrenley.

  Laurence grimaced, but dropped the subject.

  “I’ll help you,” said Anne. “There are some friends I want to ask.”

  “What else have you planned, Charles?” asked Edward. “Have you thought of Almack’s and that sort of nonsense?”

  Lord Wrenley sighed, casting a fleeting glance at Mariah, who was still busy with her diagrams. “That must certainly be attended to. I’ll speak to Sally Jersey. And I suppose we will have other entertainments.” His tone clearly conveyed his weary distaste for this prospect. “Perhaps the three of you can decide that amongst yourselves.”

  Edward nodded. “I know one thing Anne will want—a horse. I will take you riding in the park as soon as you are mounted, Anne.”

  “I should like that. Where may I get one?”

  “Well, Charles may have something in his stables?” He looked to his brother, who shook his head. “No? I’ll take you to Tattersall’s, then, and you may choose something you like.”

  “Perhaps you could perform that service yourself,” said Lord Wrenley.

  “Yes, but I thought Anne might wish to pick her own mount.”

  “Indeed, I do!”

  Seeing the light of battle in her eyes, the viscount shrugged
and turned away. “As you like. But it is unusual for young girls to go to Tattersall’s.”

  “I’ll be with her,” objected Captain Debenham.

  “Precisely.”

  “I’m sure Lydia will be eager to see you,” put in Laurence hastily. “I will take you to call tomorrow, if you wish. And I know the Branwells plan an evening party very soon. We will all receive invitations.”

  Edward groaned, earning glares from Laurence and Anne and a thin smile from Lord Wrenley. “Of course I will call,” answered Anne with a real attempt at enthusiasm.

  “But we are to go to Tattersall’s tomorrow!”

  “Oh, yes. Well, the next day, then, Laurence.”

  He bowed slightly. “Of course.”

  Anne remembered something. “Is Bishop Branwell in town with his family?” she asked softly, so as not to attract Mariah’s notice.

  “Why, yes. You will have the chance to meet him when we call.”

  She frowned a bit as she nodded.

  “He is a very learned man.”

  “And a prosy bore,” added Captain Debenham.

  “Edward!”

  “It’s the truth, Laurence. The man’s a plague; they say so at his own club.”

  “‘They’ being your friends, I suppose? I am not surprised to hear that a pack of empty-headed rattles speak of the bishop in those terms.”

  “A leveler, Edward,” commented the viscount, looking from one to the other with the air of a man watching a mildly interesting boxing match.

  “Lord Alvanley says so,” retorted Edward. “He is not a rattle.”

  “No, he is one of a set who ought to know better than to behave as frivolously as they do.”

  “Charles knows him well!”

  “No, no, don’t try to drag me into this,” protested Lord Wrenley. “I declare neutral status.”

  Edward, who was becoming truly incensed, responded with another gibe, and Anne watched the three of them with astonishment and discomfort. How could they talk so to one another? It was wholly unbrotherly. Yet she also had the sense that it was not uncommon. They all seemed to have fallen into habitual roles, and none appeared disturbed by the pattern. As she listened to their continuing hot debate, Anne nearly winced. This was not right! And later, when the group had broken up and she lay in bed, the girl determined that the Debenhams must be shown the wrongness of their conduct. And since it seemed no one else was available to show them, it was up to her.

  Five

  Anne was awakened at an unreasonably early hour the following morning by heavy tramping on the stairs below. She lay in bed for a while, listening, and expecting the noise to cease, but it did not, so finally she rose, put on a dressing gown, and went out on the landing. Looking over the rail, she could see the entire spiral of the staircase; it was empty. But the steady sound continued. “Can it be the back stairs?” wondered Anne. It was very odd that she should hear anything from so far away. But she walked along the corridor to the rear of the house, opened a door there, and walked out onto the landing of the back stairs. The noise immediately intensified.

  Peering over this rail, Anne could see two men trudging up the steps far below her. Each carried a large sack over his back. As she watched, the leader reached the first floor and disappeared through the doorway there. But another man appeared to replace him at the very bottom of the stairs, also bearing a sack. “Whatever can they be delivering?” said Anne aloud. “And so early?”

  “It’s for Miss Pos…Miss Deb… It’s for the older lady,” replied a voice above her. Anne looked up sharply and saw a young housemaid leaning over the rail of the upper landing. She held a feather duster.

  “They are delivering something to Miss Postlewaite-Debenham?” she asked. “But what?”

  “I don’t know, miss. My lady, I mean. I heard Fallow speak to Mrs. Brigham. Proper put out, he was. He told her the men would be coming today with the delivery. I didn’t hear any more because I had to come up to do the dusting.”

  Anne looked over the rail again. The parade of delivery men continued. The bags they carried were really very large, and they looked extremely heavy.

  Absently thanking the maid, Anne returned to her own room. She dressed as quickly as possible, not bothering to do more than run a comb through her red-gold curls, and hurried downstairs. On the first floor, she started back toward the rear, where she had seen the men enter, but she did not have to go all the way to the back stairs. From the corridor she saw that the deliveries were being taken to one of the parlors, and she followed them there.

  She heard Mariah’s voice before she saw her. “Yes,” she was saying. “Empty it there and go for another. We ought to have more help; this is terribly slow.”

  Anne came to the parlor doorway and looked in. Her eyes widened, and she stood stock-still. A very large pile of earth sat in the far corner of the room, and the man she had followed in was even now adding to it from the sack on his back. Mariah stood nearby, watching him critically. She wore a worn old muslin gown and a broad apron, and she held a rake.

  “Excuse me, miss,” said a diffident male voice behind Anne. She started and turned. Another servant, with a sack, was waiting to come in. She moved hastily into the room and out of his path. He trudged to the pile of soil and began to empty his bag onto it.

  “Mariah, what are you doing?” said Anne.

  The older woman noticed her and nodded. “Good morning, my dear. You are up early. I am beginning on my garden, as you can see.”

  “But…but…” Anne could not seem to frame a coherent sentence. She merely stared at the accumulation of earth. It was nearly four feet high, and the base covered a circle ten feet in diameter.

  Mariah was making it larger with her rake. “Yes, dear?” she responded absently.

  “A-all this dirt.” Anne gestured. “What are you going…why are you putting it on the floor?”

  Mariah stopped raking and turned to stare at her. “I can’t grow anything without soil, Anne.”

  “N-no. But…I mean…I thought you would have pots with plants in them. Like…like a conservatory.”

  “Indeed not. That sort of planting is not at all good for the roots. They are constricted, and very often overwatered as well. No, it is much better to have open soil.” As Anne continued to stare incredulously at her, Mariah frowned. “What is the matter? I had them remove all the furniture, and the carpet, of course. And we have covered the floor and the lower walls with oilcloth.” She pointed. “They won’t be harmed. I shall need only two feet of soil throughout the room. And I shall carefully block up the doorway to that height so that none falls into the corridor. I planned this all very carefully, Anne.”

  The girl swallowed. “Does…does Charles know about it?”

  “Naturally. You know he does. He promised me a garden; I should not have come to London otherwise.” Another workman entered, and she added, “Start piling it over there now, please.” She indicated the other corner. “I will rake the piles smooth in the middle.” The man nodded and went to empty his sack of earth; Mariah watched him complacently. “This goes slowly,” she said. “I had not realized how long it would take. But I believe we can finish today. And then tomorrow I can begin putting in the plants. If only there were more light.”

  Anne looked up at the six broad windows, three on each of the back walls. With the hangings removed, they seemed to her to let in a flood of sunlight.

  “Can’t be helped,” Mariah went on. “I’ll put the shade plants in the front corner. I do hope it will serve. Was there something else you wanted, dear?”

  Anne shook her head slowly.

  “Well, then, I must get back to work. I shall be here all day if you need me.” And she took up her rake once more.

  Feeling slightly dazed, Anne walked away. At the front stairs, she paused, shook her head as if to clear it, and considered. It was
no good going back to her room; she was fully awake now. She might as well have breakfast.

  ***

  Laurence was at the breakfast table. There was no sign of Charles. “Good morning, Anne,” he said pleasantly when she entered. He rose and pulled out a chair for her. “You are up betimes. Are you an early riser, like me?”

  “We always had to get up early at school,” replied Anne, avoiding any mention of what had wakened her today.

  “Ah, yes. A splendid habit, I think. I am always telling Charles so, but he refuses to leave his room before ten.”

  “D-does he?” She glanced at the mantel clock. It was only eight. Charles would not discover Mariah’s activities for two hours, by which time she should be well along. She felt a twinge of amusement as well as a nagging apprehension. What would he do? She vowed to be on hand to see his reaction.

  “Tea or coffee?” asked Laurence.

  Anne pulled her chair closer to the table. Suddenly she was hungry. “Tea, please. And are those scones? I’ll have one, and the jam.”

  Smiling, Laurence supplied these. “What time do you go to Tattersall’s with Edward?”

  “At eleven. Uh, Laurence, didn’t you notice the noise this morning?”

  “Noise?”

  “Yes. On the back stairs. I heard tramping.”

  He shook his head. “The servants must have been carrying something up. I’ll speak to them if you like. But my room is at the front of the house, next to Charles’s. I would not hear anything quieter than a gunshot on the back stairs.”

  Anne nodded as she spread strawberry jam thickly over a hot scone.

  “Do you want me to inquire about it?” asked Laurence curiously.

  “Oh, no. It was nothing. Do you go to see Miss Branwell today?”

  “Yes. This morning.”

  “Please give her my regards, and say I will call soon. When is your wedding to be; have you set a date?”

  This diversion was so successful that Laurence talked of nothing but his plans through the rest of the meal, and by the time they separated in the hall, he was feeling very much in charity with Anne. His brothers never asked about Lydia. Indeed, if they spoke of her at all, it was slightingly. It was very pleasant to talk with someone who valued her as she deserved, and did not force one to defend her.