by Jennifer Joy
Looking up, Miss Beatrice said, “I will write to Lewis this afternoon. If it is possible for him to come, he will.”
Anne breathed in her aunt’s promise. For the first time all morning, she smiled, and happy tears flooded her eyes so that her vision blurred.
“Many years have passed. Nearly thirty. If we are very careful, I doubt anyone will make the connection.”
Draining her tea and standing up, Miss Beatrice said, “Now, I want you to pack your things this afternoon. You will come and stay with me for the duration of your stay in town. I will send a manservant to collect you before dinner time.”
Before Anne could think to say, “Thank you,” Miss Beatrice left.
Sinking into her chair, Anne let loose the tears she had needed to shed for too long. Tears over her father’s absence in her life and the joy she had in the prospect of meeting him. Tears for her wasted youth and the pride she felt in what she had recently accomplished. Tears for ruined relationships in her family and hope they could be mended.
Chapter 16
The manservant came just as Miss Beatrice said and very soon they were brought to a grey building which could have been a home or a warehouse. Nothing about the structure declared it a warm, welcoming home. A bit prickly, like its owner.
Anne wondered if it was a mistake to come, but what other option did she have? She could not have stayed at the hotel forever.
An elderly butler opened the door and her trunk was carried up some stairs.
Miss Beatrice met them as they entered the house and walked them up to a guest bedroom with a large room beside it where Nancy would be. The furnishings from the entryway, up the stairs, and into her room were sparse— as if those parts of the house were not often in use.
Anne was happy her friend would be close to her. She had helped Anne improve her stitching enough so that she had gone beyond merely doing hems. Anne was proud of this accomplishment, as well as her embroidery, and Nancy was encouraging. “You shall be doing the intricate work on the bodice before long if you keep this up, Miss Anne,” she would say, her chest puffed out in pride at her pupil.
Miss Beatrice said, “This is where you will stay. I have not done much to these rooms as I have seldom had use for them. But, I believe the necessities are present. If anything is lacking, you can learn to do without or find it yourself.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Beatrice,” Anne said. She hoped her voice did not sound too sarcastic, for she was grateful for a place to reside. She had hoped her aunt would soften toward her. Perhaps in time.
“You are a cheeky one.”
Anne panicked until she saw how her aunt contorted her face to keep from smiling. Nobody had ever called her cheeky in all her life! It was so opposite to Anne’s character, she could not help but feel flattered at the strange compliment.
“I will give you time to settle yourselves. Dinner will be served in an hour.” With that, Miss Beatrice left Anne and Nancy in their rooms.
Neither Anne nor Nancy had much to unpack and the work was done quickly. Then, they took inventory of their rooms. Spinning about the room, Nancy declared hers satisfactory. After all, what more was needed than a bed, a wash basin, and a chamber pot?
Not much more in the way of furnishing was in Anne’s room. The wallpaper had once been yellow or pink, Anne guessed, but it was so faded, it now looked to be a soft shade of grey— just like the rest of the house.
Her bed covers were clean and smelled like lye soap.
There was a couch in a corner with two pillows which had seen better days. On the opposite wall, by the door, was a writing desk and wooden chair. The desk was too small to be useful for her paintings. She liked to have all of her materials surrounding her when she worked. As soon as she had some funds, she would purchase a larger desk. In the meantime, the small one would have to do. With Nancy’s help, she moved it to the other side of the room next to a large window where the light came in.
That done, they stood in the middle of the room thinking what to do next.
“Nothing some fresh flowers will not cheer up, miss.”
Anne thought of her room at Rosings. It had sometimes felt like a cage— albeit a very comfortable one— with the windows and curtains always closed against the cold and the draft. Though Mother never consulted with her about the colors, she always used the richest velvets, and the softest silks and satins available. Anne’s bed had been fluffy and warm, with well-made blankets. Pillows were abundant and plump with feathers. Lavender from the sachets placed about the room and sweet roses from the bushes beneath her window lent their pleasant smell. The room she found herself in now had no such luxuries, but was very practical in purpose.
“It is not as comfortable as Rosings, but it will do.” Anne would not allow homesickness to deviate her from her purpose. She would make herself useful in life and find her father. Accepting Miss Beatrice’s invitation would bring her one step closer to her goals.
“You had best go downstairs, miss. I do not think Miss Beatrice would appreciate being kept waiting. I will go to meet the rest of her household staff. Have you noticed how everyone here is ancient?”
“I have. For a moment, I was not sure the footmen would get my trunk up the stairs.” Anne covered her mouth and giggled. She had been tempted to try to carry it herself to avoid an accident.
The dining hall was the most inviting room of the house thus far. Butter yellow paper with cream flowers covered the walls. There was a lovely flower arrangement in the center and the wax candles flickered and danced in their sconces which reflected off mirrors and shining silver to illuminate the room. She had been placed to one side of her aunt instead of at the opposite end of the long table.
“Stop gawking and sit down, Anne. Good food must be eaten while it is hot; not cold on your plate.”
Anne did not know what to expect for their meal. She suspected simple fare, since everything she had seen in the house suggested as much. She would not be surprised to be served brown bread and tea without sugar or cream. To her amazement and delight, she was served a white cream soup, roast beef with new potatoes, and stewed vegetables with a sauce she was tempted to lick off the plate with her tongue. Her aunt sighed contentedly with each bite, enjoying her meal as much as Anne was.
When she thought the meal was over, Miss Beatrice said, “Now, for the best part. My cook works miracles with butter and sugar.”
Dessert was brought in next. It was gingerbread and Anne’s mouth watered as the sweet biscuits were set in front of them. Even her aunt looked like a child in a candy shop, rubbing her hands together and licking her lips. She may have miserly taste, but Miss Beatrice knows how to lay a table!
“Enjoy the final flavors of winter. June will arrive soon and with it, strawberries.”
Anne savored every bite, washing it down with chocolate so rich it left a creamy residue around her cup. She looked to her aunt and saw how relaxed she was. Now would be a good time to ask about Father.
Taking another sip of chocolate, Anne said, “I know nothing about Father. What was he like?”
Miss Beatrice sat back in her chair, a wistful expression on her face. “Your father was a very handsome man. He was gentle and kind-hearted too— I am sure he still is. All the workers on his estate were happy to have such a generous landlord, although some took advantage of his kindness. Lewis always did have a hard time with the business side of things. I think that was what drew him to Lady Catherine. He thought they would balance each other out. Well, we both know how that turned out…”
“You said he was handsome. What did he look like? All I have seen is the portrait in our sitting room at Rosings and the likeness in my locket.”
“I have seen the painting you speak of, and it actually is a fairly accurate likeness. I have not seen Lewis since he left, the trip being too complicated to make.”
“Do you think he will come?” Anne hated knowing she might not see her father when he was only across the channel.
“He has helped many others leave, so I should think that he could come if he is so inclined.”
Anne did not want to ask if Miss Beatrice had already sent a letter, but she was too impatient not to. “Have you told him about me?”
“No. I have not yet. I thought you might like to send a message along with mine.”
“Oh.” Anne went blank. She had so much to say to him and to ask him, she could not possibly know where to start.
“You have all night to think on it. I will send my letter first thing in the morning. I suggest you have something written before breakfast if you want it sent too.”
Anne had more questions to ask her aunt before retiring for the night, but her mind was occupied with the letter she must write to her father.
Not having paper to waste, Anne mentally tossed letter after letter into the trash bin. After spending too much time ruminating and not enough time sleeping, Anne decided that simple was best.
April 3rd, 1812
Miss Beatrice’s House, London
Dear Father,
Yes, you read that right. I am your daughter. My name is Anne. I only recently found out that you were alive. At this moment, I am residing with Aunt Beatrice and my hope is that we might meet somehow.
Mother is in Rosings and does not approve of me seeking you out. Please do not disappoint me if it is at all possible for you to return to England, even if it is only for a short while.
I await your response anxiously,
Your daughter,
Anne de Bourgh
Anne sprinkled sand over the wet ink and sealed the letter before she could change her mind. She also addressed a letter to Mother with her new address. She discreetly left out who resided at the home. If Miss Beatrice thought unkindly of Mother, Anne could only imagine what Mother’s opinion of Miss Beatrice was.
Though sleep escaped her until the wee hours of the morning, she woke earlier than usual to march her letters down to the butler so they would not be left behind. She prayed that her father would receive it kindly.
Luc slicked back his dark hair and checked his reflection again in the mirror.
“You are worse than a lady presenting at court,” chided Adélaïde as she stood by the door tapping her foot.
“And you, my dear sister, are as charming as ever,” Luc scowled in return. One last adjustment to his cravat and he vowed not to look in a mirror the rest of the day. He was not normally vain, but he felt the need to look his best today for their weekly tea with Miss Beatrice.
The short walk to her residence did nothing to calm his nerves. Adélaïde’s odd glances did nothing to help either.
“What has you so befuddled? This is very unlike you,” she asked.
Luc wished a breeze would cool his face. His sister would torment him when she saw his blush.
“Could it be?” Her face lit up in revelation and she poked him in the arm and laughed. “You have been caught! I would not have thought it possible, but I do believe that you are falling in love with Miss Anne.”
Luc attempted to give an answer to her accusation, but only managed to sputter unintelligibly. His eloquence had deserted him when he most needed it, and Adélaïde laughed all the more for it.
They arrived at Maman’s and the butler opened the door before Luc could form a clever retort. He felt flustered.
They were led into the front parlor where Miss Beatrice had a lovely table spread out with fresh flowers. The fare looked more abundant than usual with tea sandwiches, two different cakes, fruit, jam, and cream besides the cold cuts of meat. It reminded Luc of when he first arrived to London with Adélaïde. They had been very thin when they arrived, not having enjoyed a good meal in weeks. Miss Beatrice had taken it as her personal mission to fatten them up. It appeared that it was now her niece’s turn.
Miss Anne greeted Adélaïde like close friends do. Luc would have welcomed an embrace, but contented himself with her neat curtsy. It did please him to notice a slight blush in her cheeks when he smiled at her. He made a note to smile at her often. The blush was most becoming.
“You have outdone yourself, Miss Beatrice. Such delights are usually saved for a special occasion. Do tell! What are we celebrating?” asked Adélaïde.
“My niece has been with me these past five days and her company has cheered me up. What is not to celebrate in that? Also,” she dropped her voice, “there is a possibility that Lewis will return to meet her. We have not heard back yet, but I firmly believe he will come.” She clapped her hands together, her eyes tearing. “Imagine! After all these years…”
“You may count on our discretion, Maman. You have other family on your father’s side, do you not? Could he pose as a cousin or some other relative while he is here?” asked Luc.
“I have been giving it much thought and that is precisely what I plan to suggest. He was always so clever, I would not be surprised if he has thought of the same. It has been so long.”
Feeling bold, Luc asked, “How do you think he will find his daughter?” Luc found her extremely well.
Miss Beatrice understood his motive for the question and looked at him with arched brows.
Miss Anne looked down at her lap. The tips of her ears were bright red.
Finally, after some consideration, Miss Beatrice said, “He will be proud to have such a tenacious daughter. She gets that from our side of the family. She has stepped out into the unknown with a bravery which it would do well for other ladies to imitate.”
Miss Anne looked stunned.
“Do not look at me like a cod fish, Anne. I see you learning embroidery and design from Nancy every morning and making calls, sketching, and painting well into the evening. The drawings littering the wall of your room are a vast improvement on the faded wallpaper, I dare say. I have seen your portraits and think them of the highest caliber. I do think your desk is too small though and have arranged for you to have a bigger one.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if her words would have no effect on Miss Anne.
Luc watched Miss Anne bloom before his eyes. She sat taller and had a sparkle behind her eyes. He knew it impolite to stare, but he wanted to capture that image of her to keep forever.
She looked up and, for a moment, they locked eyes.
“I thought I heard that you were a sickly girl, Anne. You do not seem so to me,” Maman commented before cutting a bit of cake.
“I was quite sickly growing up. It has only been recently that I have recovered.”
Luc remembered how thin and pale she had been when he first saw her nearly a month ago.
“Give a girl purpose and good work, and there is no time to get sick.” Maman waved her butter knife in the air.
“I believe you are right and it is how I want to continue to live.” Addressing Adélaïde, Miss Anne continued, “There is a rush of excitement in having something to do, and a set time to do it in. I understand why you enjoy running your dress shop and helping the young ladies like you do.”
“My girls enjoy your daily visits. You are a good influence on them and, no doubt, their stories have inspired you as they have me.”
“Thank you. I would love to credit myself with unselfish interest, but my visits with them are as much for my benefit as theirs. Besides, when else am I to see my friends?”
Luc was happy to include himself amongst Anne’s friends. It was much easier for him to think of an excuse to go through the shop below his home for some daily errand at the same time, rather than think of some excuse to call on Maman every day.
“You will soon tire of us and take to traveling about the country. I know how these great ladies are,” Adélaïde teased.
“I would love to travel more, but I have grown attached to London. What about you? Would you return to France if it were possible?”
“I plan to return to France the moment it is safer. There are some things I miss that I cannot replace here, though I have grown to love my home in England as well.” The longing in Adélaïde’s voice was not lost on L
uc. It tormented her that she could not remember details as he did.
“Not me. This is my home and will remain my home until my last breath. I have spent too much time establishing myself as a businessman to give it up so easily now. But, a visit. Now, that would be divine. We shall go together, Adélaïde.”
“I should love to go on a tour of the continent. Or travel England, for that matter,” Miss Anne said in a dreamy voice.
“Perhaps you will join us then,” Luc said enthusiastically before he could stop himself.
Clearing his throat, he asked innocently, “You have not traveled much?”
“No. Like Aunt said, my health was too poor and prevented it. This is, in fact, my longest stay in London, and I must say that I am enjoying it immensely.” She smiled at her aunt. Maman plopped another slice of cake onto Miss Anne’s plate.
“Maybe when the fuss is over on the continent, you shall take your tour,” she said, returning the serving knife to the plate.
“I should like that so much. There are still so many things I want to do…”
The butler entered the room more hurried than usual. On his heels was an imposing woman. She walked into the room without being announced, her hands on her hips, lips pursed together, and nostrils flared. She would make a fantastic dramatic actress.
Anne pulled back from the table and stood, her eyes wide. “Mother!”
Chapter 17
Aunt Beatrice pounded her cane against the floor and stood, her chair almost falling in her haste. “What are you doing in my home? You are not welcome here.”
“What are you doing with my daughter? Poisoning her against me, I assume.”
“You threw her out. What choice did she have? Some mother you are, throwing your only child out in the street with no money and no connections. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
The butler tried to explain. “She would not let me introduce her. I could not stop her from entering.” He was flustered and Anne was concerned that the excitement might prove too much for his aged heart. The two women paid him no heed.