by Jennifer Joy
“She left me, just like her father did,” Mother roared in a voice much too loud for the size of the room.
Anne’s heart was beating so fast, she thought it might leap out of her chest. Feeling another verbal attack coming on, she begged, “Please, Mother. Aunt Beatrice. Please, be civil.”
Both women glared at her for her interference. Remembering how to react, Anne straightened up and held her chin high. “We have guests.”
Aunt Beatrice sat and fiddled with her cane. Mother stepped back, looking confused for a moment. Then, she stood in silence. It was awkward and Anne was not surprised when Adélaïde chose that moment to stand and take her leave. Luc followed suit, but was hesitant. He looked like he wanted to say something, but remained quiet. He cast a sympathetic look at Anne.
She nodded, trying to communicate that she would be all right, and he left with Adélaïde.
Restraint left with their guests’ departure. Anne felt the tension in the room grow.
“You selfish woman. How could you deny Anne her wish to meet Lewis?”
“So he could leave her disappointed just as he did me?”
“You made him miserable! That was why he left!”
“A better man would have stayed.” Mother smacked her fist into her hand.
“It was you who ruined him with your unbending opinions and constant criticism.”
“If he would have listened to me, there would have been no cause to criticize.”
The two ladies pointed their fingers at the other. Steam practically rose off the tops of their heads. “Mother! Aunt Beatrice! Stop this at once! We are all ladies here and I suggest we act as such. Mother, please take a seat.” She moved the tea pot away from the two women, not trusting them with the boiling beverage.
“That is not necessary, Anne. No amount of hot tea could thaw your mother’s cold heart.”
Anne sighed. This was not starting out very well, and most likely would end worse.
Mother looked about the room and humphed. “I see your taste has not improved over the years, Beatrice.”
“You were always gaudier in your preferences, Catherine. It must be your theatrical nature.”
Insults would keep flying unless Anne interrupted. “Mother, why did you decide to call in such a fashion?”
“I received your letter. You were very careful to give the minimum amount of information, but I would never forget this address. Why you chose to stay here with this puffed up prune instead of in our house in Grosvenor Square is an insult to me.”
Anne felt the guilt, but determined not to let it defeat her. “You are right. A good daughter would write with more attention to detail. However, you forced me out of my home. I assumed you did not want to hear from me, nor appreciate my staying in your house.”
“Nonsense. You were never supposed to leave in the first place to follow this fool’s errand.” Mother waved off the bothersome irritation with the flick of her hand.
“It is not foolish to meet my father. I hope to hear from him any day now.”
Mother laughed— a loud, empty cackle that set Anne’s jaw on edge. “He will disappoint you. Just wait. It was all he was ever good at.” Bitterness oozed from each word.
Aunt Beatrice interrupted, “I thank you to speak of my brother more kindly while under my roof. You are quick to name the faults of others, but you have plenty enough of your own.”
“I certainly have far fewer faults than your brother.”
“If you cannot keep a civil tongue, then I must ask you to leave.” Aunt Beatrice pointed her finger toward the door.
Anne felt like a referee at a boxing match — not that she had ever been to one. Standing up and leaning over the table, she begged, "Please, do not fight. Your quarrel was almost eight and twenty years ago. Can not the passing of time have softened the blow?"
Mother and Aunt Beatrice looked at Anne as if she had sprouted an extra nose.
Aunt Beatrice extended her pointer finger directly at Mother. "This woman ruined my brother’s chance at a happy family life by forcing him to flee England to find some measure of peace. She has withheld his existence from you, her own daughter. I am certain that she would have taken more comfort in his death, had it been real."
"Lewis chose to leave me and my unborn child. He does not deserve to be a part of her life now.”
“Mother, that is for me to decide. Not you.” Anne’s arms trembled as she remained standing over the table.
Mother’s eyes narrowed. “You are becoming stubborn and opinionated—”
“That is the pot calling the kettle black,” harrumphed Aunt Beatrice.
Anne bit her lips to keep from smiling. There was some truth there.
“I only strive to imitate the example I have been given.” The humor had passed and Anne spoke softly.
“Whose example? This conniving, manipulative woman’s?” Mother glared at Aunt Beatrice. “I still think you were the one to encourage Lewis to leave.”
Interrupting before another joust of sharp tongues began, Anne said, “Please, stop this bickering and fighting.” It pained Anne to see Mother, who she loved and was beginning to understand better, and her aunt, who had faith in her and encouraged her toward her goals, attacking each other.
They both opened their mouths to protest. Before they could utter a word, Anne held her hands up. “If you are going to fight like… misbehaved children, then I am leaving.” She felt like the grown-up in the room, though she was the youngest by decades. She stared them down, starting with Aunt Beatrice, then moving on to Mother.
Aunt Beatrice looked sheepishly at Anne. Mother looked appalled. Anne waited for her rebuff, but it never came.
“There now, is that not better? Mother, come and sit. We have all of this cake left. Please have a slice with some tea.”
Mother walked cautiously to the table, keeping an eye on Aunt Beatrice’s cane.
“I do not bite, Catherine.” Aunt Beatrice rolled her eyes.
“If you do indeed have any teeth remaining to bite with…” Mother countered as she sat.
Anne held her breath. Mother had always been opinionated, but she was rarely blatantly rude.
She looked at Aunt Beatrice to read her reaction, imploring with her eyes not to retaliate.
“You just… eat your cake…” she managed to sputter out.
Anne exhaled and sat to finish her tea, content that a truce of sorts had been made.
“… you old bird,” Anne heard from Aunt Beatrice’s side of the table.
Anne looked accusingly at her aunt, who seemed to get no end of merriment that her comment had gone unheard by the recipient at the other side of the table.
The tea was drunk efficiently and with little conversation. Mother dabbed her mouth with the napkin.
“I do not like you staying here, Anne. You are to pack your things and leave with me. My house is in a much nicer neighborhood, and we can stay in town for the remainder of the week before returning to Rosings.” She said all this while sorting her skirts, arranging her cup and saucer just so, doing anything but looking at her daughter.
“No, Mother.” It disheartened Anne to disappoint Mother yet again, but she had changed so much over the past month. Anne felt that if she left now, she would only return to her former habits, and that was no longer good enough. Disappointment and unhappiness would swallow her whole if she gave up now.
Mother rose from the table. “If you change your mind, I will be in residence in town through the weekend. Perhaps longer. I have some business to attend to with my solicitor, I think.” She stared at Anne with her eyebrows up and her lips pursed.
Mother had threatened disinheritance before, when Anne had refused Darcy’s offer of marriage. Anne had no reason to doubt that she would follow through. Love for her home almost made Anne call after her as she left the room, but Anne bit her tongue and swallowed back her tears with a sip of tea. For the first time in her life, she had a purpose. Her life meant something. She was making fr
iends and learning not to be so dependent on others. She was happy. She was not willing to lose all she had gained now.
Luc trudged up the stairs to his apartment. Adélaïde had remained downstairs, wanting to spend her time in more pleasant company. Luc did not blame her. He felt like he had left Anne in the lions’ den and his guilt on leaving increased the farther they got from Maman’s house. But, what could he have done? It was a family problem and he could not interfere in such a matter. He wondered what it would be like to be a part of that turbulent family. It played out like a comedy in his mind.
His mood lightened by the time he reached the entryway. Luc had learned how to keep peace in his theater. He had years of practice placating the principal leading lady with the prima donna, the clown with the dramatic actor. Even Adélaïde, who felt things passionately, was sometimes difficult to calm when she was in an ill-humor. His confidence grew and Luc began planning how he could befriend Lady Catherine without offending Maman. Rubbing his hands together in preparation of a diverting challenge, Luc felt much more optimistic about his day. It was a worthy challenge for a worthy cause. The prize? Miss Anne’s heart.
The butler, seeing him enter, got his attention. “A Miss Sarah Deitman is here to see you, sir. She has been waiting almost a half an hour. I saw her into the waiting room.”
Miss Deitman was the perfect replacement for Miss DeVries. She had auditioned at the larger theaters, but they would not recognize talent if it spat in their eyes. Miss Deitman had talent and ambition. She was also petite and would fit Miss DeVries’s costumes with only some minor adjustments.
There could only be one reason for her visit.
Luc left the door open as he entered his waiting room. He would leave no wrong impressions, now that he had settled his dreams on Anne.
“Good afternoon, Miss Deitman. It is a pleasure to welcome you to my humble home. Would you like some refreshment?”
She sat, twisting her hands in her lap. “No, thank you. I only came to accept your offer of work— if the offer still stands…” She looked up through her gold lashes and bit her lips together.
Luc would not make her suffer, so quickly reassured her, “Of course, my offer stands. You will take on minor roles for the next two months and make your debut for the final performance of the season. I will pay you as a principal actress beginning immediately to guarantee your interest in staying with us through the end of the season, at which point you are free to pursue any other options you may have.”
The offer was generous. Perhaps, too generous. But it would secure the right actress for the final performance and save his theater from defamation. He would give no cause to displease his patrons. Nor would he hand a loaded pistol to Mr. Garrett and his lackeys.
Miss Deitman stood and extended her hand. “Very well. We have an accord.”
Luc took her hand and bowed over it. “It is a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Deitman. I will see you tomorrow when I will introduce you to my family of performers.”
After the young actress departed, Luc rummaged through his best wines. It was a moment to celebrate. His theater was saved, and he would be credited once again with the discovery of a new talent. What was more, he had a plan to win the charming woman who had won his respect and admiration. Thoughts of marriage no longer unnerved him as they had before. Anne was an intriguing mystery full of surprises, and he loved how she responded to his sincere praise. He loved her tenacity and humility. She was not afraid to try, though Luc knew her nature to be shy. With Anne, Luc could never be sure what lay around the corner. All the more reason to have her by his side.
Chapter 18
Beginning of May
Anne continued about her routine. In the morning, she received her commissions from Mr. Carriera, as well as any payments due. Anne’s stack of coins had grown substantially and her first business was to pay Nancy her salary. Nancy tried to refuse, saying that she only saw Anne in the evenings and early mornings. But Anne insisted more than Nancy refused. Having her friend near was worth more than she could express. The coins were only a token of Anne’s appreciation, and well worth the lightening of her reticule.
Early afternoons were spent improving her embroidery at Adélaïde’s. She had so many other demands on her time, but it gave her an opportunity to improve her accomplishments— and to see Luc. He always knew exactly what to say when she felt overwhelmed. To him, she had no limitations and Anne had begun pushing herself even more because it pleased him. Anne, too, enjoyed the satisfaction she now felt.
She ate lunch with Aunt Beatrice, who she now loved as much as her own mother. They were so alike, it was hard not to— prickles and all. It was not uncommon for Anne to enter her room to find some new trinket or tool her aunt thought might be valuable to her art.
Before going to committee meetings with Millie, Anne dedicated some time to Mother. A month had passed and Mother remained in town. Sometimes Anne dreaded going to the stuffy house in Grosvenor Square, but she was growing to understand her overprotective nature more than before. Father had already left her. Even after eight and twenty years, the wound still hurt and Anne doubted her mother could ever forgive him.
It had never occurred to Mother that Anne would really leave Rosings. Anne was convinced of that now. She could even see how convenient it was for her to arrange the marriage with her sister, Lady Anne. By having Anne marry Darcy, she could keep the families united. At least, that was Anne’s reasoning up to now. She could not believe that her mother was as selfish and disinterested in her welfare as Aunt Beatrice suggested. With her new understanding, Anne could see how every action had been made to keep her dependent and reliant on Mother. Funny how life works.
Unfortunately, Mother’s efforts to keep Anne close had stifled her until Anne felt that her only choice was to leave. If only there was a way to help Mother see how her overbearing ways pushed the people she most loved away.
After a month of pleasant visits, Anne decided that today was the day she would tell Mother what she had been up to over the past month. She wanted to be sincere and honest in their relationship. It was time to share her work. Nancy, who left the dress shop at an earlier hour to accompany Anne, encouraged her.
She tried to formulate some plan as the carriage drew near de Bourgh House. She could not enter without some sort of strategy lest she lose her nerve and keep silent about her current occupation. Her resolve had grown stronger, but she was not yet willing to test its limits to the full.
Anne had been so determined in her improvements, she had already completed the final touches on a pillow that very morning. It said Rosings in red thread. It was the same shade of the rose bushes by the stairs leading up to the house. She had even stitched little rosettes to decorate around the letters. She carried it wrapped up in a package in her hands. Anne hoped Mother would like it.
The carriage slowed as the house drew near. The pillars seemed grander, and a protruding balcony set the house out as different from every other house on the street. As the butler led her up to Mother’s sitting room, the familiar colors greeted her. Hunter green curtains made of thick velvet to keep the drafts out covered the windows and darkened the entry hall. Thick Turkish carpets with bold green, red, and gold designs softened her steps as they approached the cold marble stairs lined with red carpet. Needing some warmth, Anne slid her gloved hand along the oak banisters of the stairwell. A speck of dust dared not settle in the house. She looked at her white gloves at the second floor.
Mother was standing in front of her chair when Anne walked into her room. They sat and she ordered tea to be brought up. Then, she looked expectantly at Anne.
Anne had no idea how to start, so she held the package out in front of her. “I think this will please you.”
Mother accepted her offering and untied it, careful not to tear the paper. When she saw the embroidered pillow, she sat staring at it so long Anne grew apprehensive. Mother brushed her fingers over the neat rosettes.
Surely, she
likes it!
“Is this what you have been spending your time doing here in town?” Mother asked in a broken-up voice.
Taken aback, Anne said, “It is one of the accomplishments I am learning. I have vastly improved my portraits and painting as well.”
“Do not neglect music, Anne. I should have been a great proficient had I had the circumstances when I was younger.” She sniffed and lifted her head higher.
“I fear that I inherited none of your musical talents. I can read the notes well enough, but I cannot seem to master the sound they should make. I am much happier with my sketches.” Sensing Mother’s disapproval, she quickly added, “But, I will not give up. Perhaps with more practice, I shall improve.”
“If you stayed here, you could practice on the pianoforte. It was recently tuned and I would find a master to help you along.”
“Let me meet Father and continue painting, and I will pack my things and come this afternoon.”
Mother was silent. The muscles in her jaw tensed. She would not bend.
“Very well. Then, I will stay with Aunt Beatrice.”
“I wonder why you are so quick to dignify that woman as ‘aunt’. She has done nothing to deserve it.”
“That was so in the past, but I want to give her a chance. People can change, and not all of them are that bad if you give them the chance.”
“Is that what she told you?”
Anne laughed. “Goodness, no. She was determined not to like me, but time has softened her, and I find that she is not much different than… other people of my acquaintance.” Anne swallowed hard. How closely she had come to comparing Aunt Beatrice to Mother!
Mother narrowed her eyes. Anne settled her shoulders back, trying to give the impression that nothing was wrong.
Finally, Mother said, “Humph. I pity you have more than one acquaintance with such disagreeable manners.”