Anne's Adversity

by Jennifer Joy

  Relief flooded through Anne. She and Nancy would have a family to receive them. Maybe this would not turn out to be such a disaster after all!

  “Nancy, will we be ready to leave tomorrow?”

  Nancy nodded. “I should say so. I spent all afternoon packing yesterday. But, Miss Anne, there is something we must discuss. All of your necessary items are tucked away— except for what you are using now. I packed your most practical day dresses, as I doubt we shall spend much time amongst the ton or going to social events…” She stopped, apparently at a loss for words. She twisted her hands in her apron.

  “Please, continue,” Anne urged her.

  “It is a delicate subject and an uncomfortable one.” Nancy heaved a breath in and out and said, “Pardon me, miss, for speaking so directly.” After another gulp of air, she asked, “Do you have any money?”

  Never in her life had Anne worried over money. How easily she had spent her pen money on books and small gifts for the children on the estate. She looked at the stack of books waiting to be packed near the trunk. Her most recent purchase, a new set of drawing pencils in a beautiful case, mocked her with its elegant cover and gold embossed letters.

  Walking over to her reticule, Anne poured its contents onto the bed. Nancy was her ally and there was no sense hiding anything from her. Together they counted the coins in one glance.

  “Just as I thought.” Nancy pursed her lips, hands on her hips.

  “Is it very expensive to… live?”

  Nancy relaxed her stance and answered in an overly chipper tone, “This will get us to London easily enough, but that is all. I think we should pack your dresses. They will fetch a tidy sum until we can establish ourselves somehow. Do you have any jewelry?”

  Anne had some jewelry that had been handed down through the family, but she could not bring herself to take them. They belonged at Rosings with Mother. It would feel too much like stealing to pack them only to sell for money.

  She picked through her jewelry box, hoping to find something of value that truly belonged to her. The only item was an amethyst encrusted locket on a gold chain. It had been an engagement gift for Mother. Anne picked it up and held it in her hand. It was heavy and took up half of Anne’s palm. Opening it, she saw her mother’s painted picture on the right. She was an elegant woman with strong features, unlike Anne who felt small and childish next to her. She saw Father’s picture on the left. He had dark hair and long whiskers. His eyes looked kind— like he was trying not to smile, but was too happy not to.

  Snapping the locket shut and holding it out to Nancy with her eyes closed like she could not bear to part with such a meaningful token, Anne said, “This is all I have of my own.”

  Nancy looked from Anne to the locket and back. “We will pack it, but will only sell it as a last resort. I will look for additional work when we get to town.”

  “You cannot work yourself to the bone like that. Do you think I could manage as a governess?”

  “Lord love you, Miss Anne.” She took Anne’s hand and pulled her over to the couch. “Can you play the pianoforte and sing?”

  “Not well enough to instruct someone else.”

  “How is your needlework?”

  “Ghastly. How was I to learn when the curtains were always drawn?”

  “Could you instruct in French?”

  “I know the rules of speech and vocabulary, but I fear my accent is not good enough. I had no one to practice with.” Anne, beginning to feel defensive at her lack of abilities, quickly apologized for her snappy tone.

  “Think nothing of it. You will have many more opportunities to defend yourself, so you had best practice now. What do you think of watching small children?”

  Anne stopped breathing as another wave of panic shivered through her body. This time, she braced herself and steadied her voice. “I am not an expert on the care of children, not having any in my company, but I could learn.”

  “That is the spirit! You are smart, Miss Anne. All those years reading books in bed must have taught you something useful— probably much more than you realize. And you are talented with your sketches and pastels. We will look into that.”

  Anne picked up her portfolio of sketches. One of her favorite pastimes had been riding over the property and into the village in her pony and cart to draw landscapes and passersby. The occasional familiar face would pop out to greet her between pages— Little Tom, the butcher’s son with his missing front teeth; Emilia with her multitude of freckles; Nurse Callaghan’s plump figure sitting in a rocking chair with a cat purring at her feet…

  Anne sighed and tucked the book safely away in her traveling bag, which would remain with her for the duration of their travel to the Hepplewhite’s home. It was too precious to separate from her person, so it lay next to her reticule with her locket and coins.

  The day dragged on as Anne grew impatient to begin her search for her father. Questions only he could answer flooded her mind, but she forced herself to push them aside to think of more practical things. How would she find him? After so many years presumed dead, who would have information about his whereabouts? Who could she trust to be discreet and not reveal her family’s secret? She desperately wanted to find him, but not at the cost of hurting Mother further by uncovering a scandal publicly. Anne could imagine what the front pages of the newspapers would say. It would be devastating.

  Anticipation tempered with sadness made rest impossible. Still, Anne tried to sleep, knowing that a long, tiring day awaited her. During the endless night she settled on a plan to find her father and now only needed dawn to break to pack her final things and catch the post coach to London.

  Morning approached and with it came a stuffy nose. As the sky lightened, a scratch tickled Anne’s throat. Each passing minute seemed to bring a new symptom until Nancy arrived to find a red-nosed, watery-eyed Anne ready to oversee the rest of the packing.

  “Oh, miss. Of all days to get sick… Should we delay our trip a couple days?”

  “I am fine.” Her voice sounded nasal through her clogged ears. She was packed and ready. A common, little cold would not stop her now.

  “Very well. Let me fetch some tea and broth. Then, I will help you finish here.”

  As much as Anne detested bone tea, it did soothe her throat and help her breathe.

  They soon had the trunk packed along with a bag of Nancy’s belongings.

  Following the footmen carrying their possessions downstairs, Anne froze when she saw her mother standing by the open door.

  “Good morning, Anne.”

  “Good morning, Mother,” Anne said cautiously. She slowed her pace, not knowing what to expect.

  “I have come to give you another chance.” She held out her hand. “I want the letter.”

  “Tell me what I need to know and it is yours.”

  Mother stepped back with a look of disbelief. “I cannot do that. If you will not leave this foolishness, I insist you take my carriage.”

  “Thank you—”

  “I only offer it because it will not do to have you show up without a manservant— and in a post coach. I detest gossip and I trust you to remember that before defiling our family’s name with your inquiries.”

  No goodbyes were exchanged. Mother turned on her heel and walked upstairs to her room.

  Anne swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She was leaving home; probably for good.

  Her eyes swept the front room, trying to memorize every detail. She smelled springtime and rain in the air as she stepped out to Mother’s carriage. Anne would miss the roses in the summertime.

  Even when the carriage pulled away, Anne looked out the window between the streaks of rain until all she could see was a blur where her home used to be.

  Chapter 8

  The Hepplewhite’s home was a cheerful place located in fashionable Mayfair. Even in the gloomy weather, the sunflower yellow curtains smiled in welcome through the sparkling glass windows.

  Anne was nervous, but Mrs. He
pplewhite soon laid her fears to rest. She welcomed Anne and Nancy and walked them up to the guest room where they would stay, chatting nonstop the whole time.

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam is such a good friend and so helpful. We were honored he thought of us to help out while you suffer through some difficult times.”

  Anne arched her brow. What had Richard said? What did Mrs. Hepplewhite know?

  “Sometimes people need a little space and time to sort things through. You will see, Miss de Bourgh, we will soon put you to rights.”

  Growing curiouser, Anne cocked her head and asked, “May I ask what exactly Richard told you?”

  “He described your constant bouts of illness and your desire to improve your health by strengthening your spirit. I myself have never been sick a day of my life and I owe it all to my charitable work. Where the spirit is strong, the flesh will soon follow.”

  What an ingenious half-truth. Anne was both proud of her cousin and relieved not to have to explain her situation further.

  Mrs. Hepplewhite continued. In fact, she never stopped. Anne just picked up on the conversation as soon as she could order her thoughts again. “It does appear, though, Miss de Bourgh, that you are coming down with a cold. I will call our physician and you shall rest today. Tomorrow, we begin.” Mrs. Hepplewhite clapped her hands and rubbed them together in anticipation.

  “Please, Mrs. Hepplewhite, do call me Anne. If we are to be guests in your home, I would prefer not to uphold such formalities as using only surnames.” She liked Mrs. Hepplewhite and her cheerful manner.

  “I would be delighted, too, if you will call me Millie. Amelia is my given name, but my friends call me Millie and I have determined that we will become great friends. Now, please, you must rest. I will send up a tea tray. I do not like to boast, but my cook bakes the best cream scones in all of London.” Like a whirlwind, she left Anne and Nancy in their rooms.

  Anne’s room was a generously proportioned apartment decorated in a feminine style. Soft pastel colors on the walls, the window dressings, fluffy pillows, and thick blankets made Anne feel as if she were standing in a field of spring blossoms. The window had been left open and a breeze entered. The smells of the overcrowded town were neutralized by the blossoming tree outside the window and the damp smell of the rain which had followed her most of the way from Kent.

  The dressing room had been turned into a guest room for Nancy and only a door separated them. Anne rather liked the brightness which reflected light around the room. It felt clean and fresh— very distinct to the dark velvets and deep colors she was used to in Rosings.

  “Well, this is a happy place. Colonel Fitzwilliam matched you well, Miss Anne.”

  Anne smiled and reclined herself on a chaise in front of the window overlooking the garden and stables. A ray of sun burst through a hole in the dark grey clouds and its warmth comforted Anne. It only lasted a few minutes, but with the sunshine came hope and the feeling that perhaps her endeavor to come to London to find information about her father was not so foolish.

  A maid brought up a tray with a pot of tea with hot steam coming out of the spout. Anne walked over to the small table it was set on. The scones were warm from the oven. Bowls of clotted cream and strawberry preserves sat on the tray in mounds. There was enough food to feed a half-dozen people! Mother’s doctor would have scolded Anne for so much as considering a small nibble. She leaned over the vapor and wished she could smell through her stuffy nose.

  Nancy stood near the table, watching her reaction.

  Anne reached out for a scone, but after hesitating, decided to pour the tea instead.

  “Miss Anne, I think Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Hepplewhite are correct in thinking that activity and purpose will improve your health. That was very clever of him to appeal to Mrs. Hepplewhite in such a way. It is also my opinion that some good rich food might do you good rather than harm. When was the last time you ate a scone with clotted cream and sweet preserves?”

  Anne tried to remember, but such delicacies were long ago removed from her diet. Her thoughts were further muddled when her stomach made a rumbling noise.

  Nancy plopped a dollop of cream and preserves on a plate and handed it to Anne.

  The first bite was heaven. Anne closed her eyes and moaned, afraid to swallow and lose the moment.

  Nancy giggled. “What you have been missing all these years… Here, wash it down with some tea and you will enjoy the next bite just as much.”

  Anne ate slowly and deliberately, savoring each morsel of the two scones she ate. The tea worsened her runny nose, but it felt so good to drink. Anne allowed herself another cup when she was finished.

  A couple hours later, the doctor arrived and confirmed a head cold. He suggested sunshine— weather permitting— rest, and a lot of liquids. No leeches. No drawn curtains. No strict bed rest. Only a spoonful of a tonic, which was not too distasteful, in the morning and at night. Anne easily forgave him the recommendation of beef tea because of this.

  “You shall be back to normal in a week’s time. I do not recommend venturing out in this weather, but on a nicer day some exercise might improve your health.” With this final recommendation, he departed, leaving Anne with Nancy and Millie.

  “I think he is right. Today is for rest. But, you are new to town and I am sure will not want to stay in too long. Is there anything you would like to do or anywhere in particular you would like to go?”

  “I wish to do everything,” came out of Anne’s mouth before she could stop it. She did not want to come across as a country bumpkin, but she was not accustomed to being asked for her opinion often and her head filled with ideas of museums, theaters, libraries, walks in the park…

  Millie’s laugh got her to smile through her embarrassment. “I will enjoy presenting you to the ladies of the committees as soon as you are well enough. In the meantime, make good use of our library and anything else you might require. A month here will be just the thing.”

  Anne’s breath caught mid-inhale. She covered her shock with a sneezing fit that started out fake and ended real. “A month?” she squeaked when she finally caught her breath.

  Millie’s hand instantly moved to Anne’s back, rubbing back and forth. Handing her another cup of tea, she said, “Yes. That was the time stipulated, was it not? It works perfectly for me as my nieces are arriving in a month’s time for an extended stay. I love visitors and much prefer for this room to be occupied than not.”

  “Right. Yes. Of course. And again, I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality. You have made us feel most welcome.” Anne forced a smile. That was what she deserved for wanting too much too soon. She reminded herself why she was in town. It was not to socialize and enjoy the entertainments. She was here to find her father and, it was becoming quite clear to Anne, to learn to take care of herself.

  “You are welcome any time, Anne. I think you will like my nieces. Since I do not have children of my own, I love their company.” There was sadness in her words, but she did not remain melancholy for long.

  Clasping Anne’s hands between her own, she squeezed them and stood from the chair next to Anne.

  “I will leave you to rest. If you need anything at all, ring the maid as I will be out. A special meeting was called and I must attend. We are ripping bandages for the hospital,” she chattered until the door closed.

  Anne turned to Nancy. “Only a month? I suppose I should not have presumed, but what are we to do after a month? I cannot simply return to Rosings. And if Father is in France, how can I receive word from him in only a month?”

  “Each day has enough worry, Miss Anne. We will take one day at a time. Today is for you to rest and recover from your cold. Now, how do you plan to search for Sir Lewis?”

  “I had thought to call at Mr. Haggerston’s office. He has been the Darcys’ family lawyer these many years and he can be trusted, I am certain, to be discreet and thorough in an investigation.”

  Nancy opened Anne’s trunk and pulled out the best go
wns. She laid them out on top of the end of the bed for Anne to see. There were six of them.

  “Which should we sell first? Mr. Haggerston will need to charge a fee. I will find a shop to pay a decent sum while you rest.”

  Anne immediately picked out the green satin gown with lace and Nancy wrapped it up in paper to keep it from getting wet outside. It would fetch a better price if it were shown to its full advantage.

  Now alone in her room, Anne tried to relax and nap. But, try as she might, she could not stop worrying. Only one month…

  Chapter 9

  The next day, Anne received word from Mr. Haggerston’s secretary. Mr. Haggerston was on holiday and was not expected back until the first of April— almost three weeks away. An offer to forward any urgent messages was given. It was not the news Anne needed. Despair, more than her cold, kept her in bed for a full week.

  The only solace Anne found was in her sketches. The excellent lighting in her room afforded ample opportunity to escape the worries of the day and put them on page in charcoal drawings. She flipped through her sketchbook. There was a lovely sketch of Mrs. Hepplewhite with her ever-present smile. The next page was a picture of Mother. Anne had been haunted with the hurt look in her mother’s eyes and tried to capture it on the page in the hopes that it would give her some peace. Thus far, it had not worked. Anne consoled herself by remembering how easily Mother had cast her out of home. Still… perhaps she had been right, and Anne should return home and beg for forgiveness. She would return Father’s letter to its rightful owner and no mention would be made of him ever again.

  Anne closed her book so determinedly, the pages made a loud slap. While she would love nothing more than to return to the comforts of home, the need to know about her father consumed her. She could not go back yet. But she was not doing a very good job on her own either. She hit her pillow in frustration.

  “Miss Anne, how are you feeling today?” asked Nancy in her chipper voice.

  “I am miserable,” Anne groaned.