Anne's Adversity

by Jennifer Joy

  “Miserable from your cold?”

  Anne took time to think. She had used her cold as an excuse to stay in bed, thus avoiding her problems just as she had done at Rosings. The disappointment in herself caused more misery than any illness she had suffered from.

  “If you have to think about it, miss, then I think the cause of your malaise is something other than physical. Might I suggest an outing? The day is lovely.”

  “I should do something, but I have no idea what. I know I cannot just continue to lay here. Millie is worried as it is.” Sweet Millie had checked on Anne several times every day. She asked about her comfort, offered to call the doctor again, suggested they invite Colonel Fitzwilliam for a visit… Anne had refused Millie’s attempts to cheer her up. She could hardly stand her own company. Inviting others to socialize with her would only be a punishment to them. Finally, Anne pushed back the covers and stood. “Where shall we go?”

  “I am happy to hear it, Miss Anne. Mrs. Hepplewhite expressed her wish for us to accompany her to her dressmaker’s today. I see an opportunity for me to get employment, so I have already chosen your gown with my best work for you to wear. You shall be a walking advertisement today.” Nancy grinned.

  “At least I can be useful somehow. I will do my best to show your embroidery to advantage.” Anne was happy for Nancy, but could not help feeling guilty that she had no useful accomplishments she could use to help in their situation.

  “I can teach you, you know. Without Her Ladyship looking over your shoulder, I think you could progress quite well. You know the basics all right. You only lack practice. No one will close the curtains on you here.”

  Anne’s first reaction was to deny any ability she might have and refuse Nancy’s kind offer of help. She even began to shake her head before it struck her. She was free to do what she chose with her time. There was nobody to tell her that she was not good enough. Nancy had left her family and steady position at Rosings behind for her. How could she disappoint Nancy by not even trying now?

  Anne’s head shake turned to a nod and she said, “I believe I shall try. If you will be patient with me, Nancy, I will do my best.”

  “Have confidence, miss. You will be fine. I have even started my own inquiries as to your father. Nothing direct, mind you. I merely ask the other servants of the household if they know, or have heard of, anyone with the name de Bourgh. It is not much, but it is something.”

  “You have done more than I have, Nancy. It is time I made more effort. I do not want to disappoint you… or myself.” Anne’s shame grew and she determined within herself not to hide from life and its problems anymore. She would probably fail, but she should at least try.

  Nancy helped Anne into her cream muslin day dress. Pink and red flowers cascaded down the front with delicate green leaves and twisting vines. Matching flowers were stitched onto the sleeves. Nancy had turned a plain, simple dress into a work of art with her needle and thread. It was one of Anne’s favorites.

  A rose petal pink spencer and bonnet completed the look. Anne looked in the mirror and was generally pleased with the image reflected. If only I had more color to my whitewashed face and flesh on my bony frame.

  Mrs. Hepplewhite’s footman soon came to see if they were ready to leave.

  “Anne, I am so pleased you could come. The doctor suggested more exercise, so we shall forgo the carriage. It is a glorious day outside and a nice walk to the dress shop will put some color in your cheeks,” Mrs. Hepplewhite said as they met at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You will simply adore my dressmaker. She has the most amazing story and she does such wonderful philanthropic work. Every worker in her shop has been saved from destitution on the streets, and she protects her girls like they were her own children. She does not talk much of her past, but she came over from Paris during the Reign of Terror. She was a young child, but her brother brought her to safety and now she is an established businesswoman, and he owns a theater in town.” Mrs. Hepplewhite went on to describe the talents of Adélaïde Mauvier.

  Anne could only listen half-heartedly. There too many distractions surrounding her, competing for her attention. She moved her parasol off to the side so the sun could soak through her hair. Her worries melted away as her body warmed.

  They walked past a bakery and paused to smell the yeast rolls coming out of the oven. Her mouth filled with saliva. But their group walked on and Anne was soon distracted by her shortness of breath. It did not feel like they had walked very far, but she was tiring. Her legs burned.

  “Are we very far, Millie?” she asked as Mrs. Hepplewhite paused to take a breath in conversation.

  “Oh, dear me. How thoughtless of me. You have not had time to gain any strength and I am pushing your limits. I am so sorry, dear Anne. We should have taken my carriage.” She looked at the buildings around them. “Ah, yes. I was so caught up in conversation, I was walking without paying much attention. We are only two blocks away. Do you think you can make it?” Mrs. Hepplewhite looked so sincere and apologetic, Anne wished she had held out just a little bit longer before asking the distance.

  “The doctor did recommend exercise. Let us continue.” Anne tried to slow her breathing and took some steps forward to convince their group to continue.

  Two blocks later, they arrived at Mademoiselle Adélaïde’s.

  A bell announced their arrival as they opened the door and entered. A hallway continued straight to what was most likely the lady’s residence. To the left, between a giant arched entryway surrounded by potted ferns, was the shop. A young woman came toward them with a broad smile on her face. She was beautiful. Her green eyes and dark brown hair, so dark it was almost black, gave her an exotic beauty lovelier than anyone Anne had ever drawn. With hundreds of bolts of fabric behind her on the far wall, it was an explosion of color. Her fingers itched for her sketch book.

  Anne had expected a French accent, but Mademoiselle Adélaïde’s English was as perfect as her own.

  “How lovely you have come, Mrs. Hepplewhite. And you have brought friends, I see.” Adélaïde took in her guests as Mrs. Hepplewhite made presentations. Her eyes stopped at Anne’s skirt.

  Mouth open in a gasp, Adélaïde knelt down for a better look. “May I? Such artistry is to be appreciated and much praised.”

  Nancy was beaming in her pride. Anne saw her opportunity to help. “You may praise the artist directly, Mademoiselle. She stands before you. Her name is Nancy.”

  Adélaïde stood and Anne directed her gaze to Nancy by putting her hand on her maid’s shoulder.

  “In my dreams, I can teach my girls such stitchery as yours, Nancy.” Turning to Anne, she continued, “You had better keep a close eye on this one or I shall snatch her out from under you.”

  Anne and Nancy exchanged a look and smiled. Now was not the time to talk of employment, but Anne felt confident Nancy could secure a position before they left. Adélaïde caught her eye and nodded as if she understood Anne’s thoughts. A small weight lifted off her shoulders at her friend’s success.

  “Now, how may I serve you? I have acquired some gorgeous silks since your last visit, Mrs. Hepplewhite.” She expertly directed them past the fitting room to her fabric displayed on the far wall of her shop. They were grouped according to color and Anne was fixated on a blue the color of the flowers on the myrtle plants at Rosings.

  Adélaïde asked her, “Do you need a new dress, miss?” She pulled out a length of the blue fabric. “This is what we call periwinkle. It would bring out the blue in your eyes.” She held it up to Anne’s shoulder and everybody gasped at how lovely it complemented her.

  “It makes your eyes go from grey to a clear, brilliant blue. So lovely. Oh, you must have it!” exclaimed Mrs. Hepplewhite.

  Anne felt like she was four years old again. She had seen a porcelain doll with curly blonde hair and a fancy, silk dress with velvet shoes. She wanted that doll more than anything she had ever wanted, but she was too afraid to ask Mother for it. Mother would h
ave considered it a frivolous purchase… just like this beautiful fabric laying across her shoulders.

  The bell of the front door rang and Anne turned to see who had entered the shop.

  She had to remind herself to breath. The gentleman walking toward their group had to be the most handsome man she had ever seen— not that she had met very many men in her enclosed life. His hair was the same dark color of Mademoiselle Adélaïde’s. His eyes— neither green nor brown nor blue, rather a mix of all three— turned up at the corners and he smiled at her. Oh dear, he saw me gawking at him. Anne looked down at her feet, closely inspecting the toe of her left boot. Her ears burned. She occupied herself with the fabric, pulling it off of herself to pile onto the display table.

  Adélaïde spoke to the man as she expertly smoothed the silk into place and back to its display. “Luc, your timing is perfect. You know Mrs. Hepplewhite, of course. Let me present you to her guest, Miss Anne—. Oh how silly of me! We have only just met and I do not remember hearing your last name.”

  “De Bourgh.”

  Did Anne see it or did she imagine it? Did Adélaïde’s eyes widen at the mention of her surname?

  Adélaïde collected herself and smiled. “Miss Anne de Bourgh, this is my brother, Mister Luc Mauvier. He operates a theater just down the road.”

  “Enchanté, Madam. Mademoiselle,” Luc said as he bowed to Mrs. Hepplewhite and Miss de Bourgh, never taking his eyes off the petite woman in front of him. Her eyes were intriguing. Now they were a stormy grey, when only a moment before, they were a brilliant blue.

  “That silk suited you, Mademoiselle. You should allow my sister to make a gown fit for an elegant woman such as yourself.”

  Miss de Bourgh blushed at the compliment. She must not be used to receiving praise.

  Encouraged, Luc continued, “Your eyes, Miss de Bourgh, are the very color of a summer sky. Beautiful.”

  She opened her curvy, red lips to speak, but no words came. A charming flush spread over her pale cheeks. Miss de Bourgh finally found her voice. In a soft murmur, she said, “I thank you, sir. It must have been the reflection of the fabric you saw.” Turning to Adélaïde, she continued, “I regret that I cannot have a dress made at this moment. I have so many gowns as it is.” She added the last bit like it was an afterthought.

  He examined Miss de Bourgh closer. She was looking everywhere but at him, so he felt at liberty to do so. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a lady of high class. Her thinness suggested illness, as did her pallor. Her shyness and inability to take a compliment was opposite to every woman of his acquaintance. He would wait until she left to see what else his sister knew about her. She was intriguing.

  Chapter 10

  “Luc, you are incorrigible. I bet Mrs. Hepplewhite is warning Miss de Bourgh to stay away from you and my dress shop as we speak. You, brother, are bad for business.” Adélaïde crossed her arms and glared.

  “I am very good for business. I have not met a female yet who does not like a compliment. I merely told the truth, though I could have gone to much greater detail about her ruby red lips, her ivory skin, mahogany hair, and rose petal cheeks.” He let out a sigh.

  Adélaïde, arms still crossed, said, “Thank you for exercising restraint. Now, why did you give me that look when she said her surname?”

  “Ah, that. You know how private Maman is. She has spoken to me of her family before and I do not know if she would appreciate us interfering in her family affairs. Let us find out a little bit more about this Miss Anne de Bourgh before involving Maman. We owe as much to our dear friend.”

  “You are right. And I am grateful you stopped me before I said something inappropriate. Did you notice how she refused the silk? When she came in, I complimented the embroidery on her dress and it was as if she encouraged her maid to find employment here.” Adélaïde chewed on the corner of her mouth, a habit she had when in deep thought.

  “I see the wheels turning… I do hope you consider employing Miss de Bourgh’s maid. Maybe we could get to know her better and become friends.”

  Adélaïde looked daggers at Luc. “I will have none of your flirtations with Miss de Bourgh. She is not one of your actresses or dancers to be treated like a plaything. If she is who we think she is, then she is of high birth and out of your league, brother. You should put such thoughts out of your head.”

  Luc held his hands up in surrender. “As you wish, Adélaïde.” He would do his best to put Miss de Bourgh out of his mind, but she had become like a gold doubloon dangling in front of a pirate.

  “I think she is in need of help. She did not suggest as much, but I have my suspicions. I am glad our tea with Miss Beatrice is this afternoon. Shall we mention her?”

  A damsel in distress. Luc wanted to help her.

  “Yes. She should know. Perhaps this Miss de Bourgh is her niece.”

  Mrs. Hepplewhite, concerned that Anne might overexert herself, had insisted on sending a boy from the shop to fetch her coach. The outing had done Anne much good and she was feeling better, but she was grateful for Millie’s kind thought.

  “Is Miss Adélaïde not lovely? She has helped keep many young ladies from ruin and her own history is so tragic. It makes me happy to live in good ‘ol England.”

  “She would make a lovely portrait. I plan to sketch her when we arrive home.” Anne conjured Adélaïde’s beautiful face up in her mind. Mr. Mauvier made an appearance as well.

  “I did not know you sketched. May I see some of your drawings?”

  Pulled out of her dream, Anne wanted to refuse. One of her former art teachers had said she had talent, but Anne preferred to keep her art to herself. It was safe and free of criticism there.

  A sharp pain like a sting at her elbow drew her attention to her side and to Nancy who was nodding her head in approval. Even after Anne’s grimace, Nancy prodded her by poking her in the arm. Preferring not to receive another pinch, Anne said, “Absolutely. I would love to hear your point of view.”

  Though it was scary, it was the right decision. She could no longer hide behind her timidity and fear. Time and resources were running out and maybe Nancy’s prediction that Anne could make some money with her drawings would prove true.

  When they entered the house, a message was given to Mrs. Hepplewhite which required her immediate attention.

  Anne was relieved to have a few minutes to sketch while the images of the Mauviers were still fresh in her mind. She grabbed her pencils and set to work, drawing the first face she could see in her mind’s eye.

  She lost track of time. Whether it was a half hour, an hour, or two hours, Anne did not know. But her first sketch was almost finished when Mrs. Hepplewhite came to see her portfolio of drawings.

  Anne focused on the picture before her. A pair of dreamy eyes looked back at her with a crooked grin which suggested trouble.

  Mrs. Hepplewhite sat next to Anne at her table. “You have captured Mr. Mauvier’s look perfectly. I thought you handled his coquetry like a real lady, but I will warn you that he has a reputation and you would do well to avoid his company.”

  “That should not be a difficulty. I see no other reason why I should frequent the dress shop or his theater. I came to London with a purpose and I do not want to be distracted.” Anne was firm. However, she would not mind chancing upon Mr. Mauvier again… for artistic purposes, of course.

  “I do believe your health is already improving. Your cheeks have a glow you did not have before. How do you feel, Anne?”

  Anne thought for a minute. Normally, she suffered either a headache, a stomachache, or a general malaise, but right now she felt exhilarated. “I think I feel normal. It is such a strange thing for me; I hardly know how to describe it.” She smiled brightly at her caring hostess.

  Millie squeezed Anne’s hand. “I am happy to hear it and it pleases me even more that I have had a small part to play in your recovery. It seems that increased activity agrees with you. Now, let us have a look at the rest of your drawings.”
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  Anne opened her book to the first page, holding her breath. There were landscapes of her favorite spots at Rosings, many of them colored with pastels.

  “Oh, I wonder why you would want to leave such a lovely place. It looks like something out of a fairy tale. London must seem so drab and crowded to you.”

  “I love my home.” Anne felt a stab of homesickness and regret. How much time she had wasted away in her room, avoiding conflict and exertion, when she could have done more. In London she could be different and she grew more determined to try. “London is crowded, but I would never call it drab. There is so much here to see and people to meet, I will soon fill the pages of this book.”

  Millie pursed her lips as she flipped through the pages, stopping to consider the portraits in greater length. Anne’s nerves returned.

  “Have you tried doing miniature portraits?”

  Unprepared for the question, Anne stammered, “I have attempted them. The technique is more difficult— painting watercolor on ivory. I think achieving the right mixture of watercolor and gum arabic is key, but I have not practiced much.”

  “I am certain that you would soon become expert at it. I am not a savvy judge of good art, but several of the ladies have taken to getting their portraits done in miniature. They make for nice keepsakes, you know. The artist they prefer is kept so busy that several of the ladies have been made to wait, so that he might have the time to paint them.”

  Nancy walked closer. “Forgive the intrusion, but might I inquire who this artist is? I ask because he might be willing to teach his techniques to Miss Anne.”

  Anne was certain that was not the only reason Nancy was asking. Never before had she expressed such active interest in the craft.

  “Yes, if I remember correctly, it is a Mr. Carriera. Is that not an elegant surname? From what I hear, he is a descendant of Rosalba Carriera.” She gave Anne a what-do-you-think-about-that look.

  Anne admired the work of the Venetian painter. She would have loved to study with a master like Rosalba Carriera. She hoped this Mr. Carriera upheld his family’s legacy. For him to be so much in demand proved his talent.