Anne's Adversity

by Jennifer Joy

  Luc answered firmly, “What kind of man would I be to wish you dead and deny you your family? No, never. You risked yourself and helped many people. I miss my parents, but I am grateful for every day of my life and I thank you for it. My question for you is what you plan to do now?”

  Silence filled the room as Father looked at his loved ones around him.

  Aunt Beatrice broke the silence with her cane. She cracked it against the floor and stood. “I will tell you what you should do. Stay here in London with me.”

  Father chuckled. “As your brother, I could do what you suggest. But, during my stay here, I am your cousin, Francis de Bourgh, who has come to visit from the continent. The last thing I want is to cause my family any scandal.”

  Mother grasped the arms of her chair and cleared her throat to command everyone’s attention. Anne noticed her pinky finger tapping against the chair, the only betrayal of her nerves. “You could stay at de Bourgh House as soon as I leave the residence. As a member of the family, you could stay there as long as you like and call yourself whatever foolish name you please.”

  Anne looked nervously at her father. Leave it to Mother to give offense at the first opportunity.

  Father laughed, causing Mother to huff in her chair. He laughed so heartily, though, that Anne soon noticed the side of Mother’s face twitching.

  “That is the best idea yet. When I left Paris, I knew I could not return. I had hoped that I could find a home here in good ol’ England and it seems fitting that I should reside in my own house, does it not?”

  “Is that why you delayed in coming?” asked Anne.

  “Yes, my dear Anne. I came so close to being discovered, but I am done with the life of a spy, and there is nothing that can separate me from you. Unless you wish it?”

  Anne shook her head. “No. I want you to stay. We have so many years to make up for.”

  Father patted her hand. “Thank you. After what I put you and your mother through, I half expected you to send me back on the first boat out of here.”

  “Nonsense, Lew… I mean, Francis.” Mother waved away his ridiculous assumption.

  “I like how you say my name, Cathy.”

  Mother scoffed. “You have spent too much time with the French. You can keep your compliments to yourself. They are wasted on me.”

  She sounded gruff, but Anne knew her mother better than that. Anne bit her lips and stared into her lap. What if, after all these years, her mother should fall in love with Father?

  “Why should I not compliment you? Look at our lovely daughter. You did a marvelous job raising her, Cathy.”

  Aunt Beatrice rolled her eyes and harrumphed.

  “Well, it was difficult, but I am happy to say that Anne has become quite the self-sufficient woman. She got that from me, I think.” Mother raised her nose up into the air.

  Of course she would take all the credit! But Anne did not care. All the people she loved the most were in the room with her, and she had never been as happy as at that moment.

  Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks as she realized how easily she had included Luc amongst the people she loved.

  She met his eyes and he stood. “I think that now is a good time for me to take my leave. Perhaps Sir Francis would do me the honor of accepting my hospitality until his home is made available?”

  “Thank you, Luc.”

  “I will go immediately to prepare the guest room. If you would like to make your entry into society smoothly, I might suggest you all accompany Maman to my theater tonight. You will be seen by many, and news will quickly spread that Francis de Bourgh has come from the continent.”

  “Does that suit you, Bea?” Father asked, his eyes twitching in Mother’s direction.

  It took longer than necessary, but Aunt Beatrice finally got the hint. With all the enthusiasm of a child being forced to do something she did not want to do, she asked, “Lady Catherine, would you like to join us?”

  “Very well. I always have thought the theater to be a worthwhile pastime.”

  Anne almost choked in her attempt to not laugh out loud. Mother and Aunt Beatrice were more entertaining than any comedic act with their bantering insults.

  She smiled up at her father, looking forward to their time together.

  Even after a month had passed, Mother continued in town, and Anne spent every spare moment in her father’s company. This threw her into Luc’s presence even more than before, Father being his guest until Mother returned to Rosings. It was a happy arrangement. Of course, it would be difficult to be anything but merry surrounded by good company, sunshine, and strawberries. Mr. Carriera kept Anne busy as well. With only a week left before the end of the season, it was imperative to complete their miniatures before the grand families left town for the country.

  Chapter 23

  The past months had been good to Luc. With only one more week remaining of the busy season, he walked from The Strand to his townhouse, grateful that Mr. Garrett’s threats had been nothing more than hot air. How he would love to rub his account ledgers in the naysayer’s face, but a gentleman would never stoop to such pettiness. The vengeful thought was pleasant though.

  Sir Francis— Luc had trained himself to use his friend’s second name so well, he hardly had to remind himself of it anymore— was a delightful house guest. He often consulted with Luc and Adélaïde about which trinket or bauble to give as a present to Anne. Luc frequently accompanied them as they would go for an ice cream or for a tea in a nice shop. Sir Francis spoiled his daughter, and when he found out about her art, he bought her so many cakes of paint, she could continue to work and never lack in colors for the next decade.

  Luc grew evermore impatient as it became more difficult to depart from her company. But, he did not quite feel it was time to take her attention away from Sir Francis. His time would come soon enough. He would not deny himself Anne’s constant company forever.

  The butler was waiting by the door when Luc arrived home.

  “Miss Deitman is here to see you, sir. I put her in the waiting room.”

  Odd. She should be at the theater readying herself for the performance that evening.

  “Thank you, Jackson. I will go see what she wants immediately.” Luc forced a smile on his face as he walked into the waiting room. He had a bad premonition about her visit.

  Miss Deitman was looking at a landscape painting above the chimney mantel. She seemed startled when Luc entered the room.

  Bowing elegantly, Luc said, “What a pleasure it is to welcome you to my humble home, Miss Deitman. I do hope I have not made you wait too long.” Luc watched her face for any signal of what was to come.

  She plastered a smile on her face, cocked her head to the side to display the creamy, white skin of her neck, and placed a jeweled hand by her pouty lips. Luc knew how much practice such a pose required and inwardly applauded her skill. She would make a fantastic lead actress. And when she became famous, it would be known that he had given her her start at his theater. But something was wrong. She would not look at him.

  “You startled me, Monsieur Mauvier. I did not mind the wait. You have some lovely paintings in this room.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Then her face lit up and, in an overly chipper voice, she asked, “Where is this landscape from?” She pointed to the painting she had been studying when he walked in.

  Luc was convinced she bore bad news. He doubted sincere interest in the landscape. She was beating around the bush.

  “It is my family home outside of Paris. A good friend of mine was kind enough to paint it at my description.”

  “It is lovely. Who painted it?”

  Luc heaved a sigh. “Miss Deitman, I do not think you came to my home and waited for me to arrive to discuss one of my paintings. Or did you?”

  “No, I did not.” She extended her arms out and looked heavenward.

  Luc hated receiving news from actresses. They were so… dramatic. He leaned against the mantel and crossed his arms, read
y for the blow. He nodded for her to continue.

  Putting one hand to her forehead like she might suffer a swoon, she said, “If only this were easier.”

  “Perhaps you should take a seat lest you faint.”

  “I could not possibly sit, though I thank you. You see… I have had a better offer.” She stopped abruptly, her eyes searching Luc.

  Two can play at this game, mademoiselle. You are not the only actor in this room.

  Luc raised his eyebrows slightly, his arms still crossed. “I am intrigued. Are you here to negotiate or have you accepted this better offer?” Luc’s heart was pounding so hard it thundered in his ears, but he would not let her know how much this affected him. He counted as he breathed.

  “The Theatre Royal has offered me a contract for the winter season on the agreement that I will make my debut there. So, you see, I cannot perform at your theater four nights hence.”

  “I do hope they are paying you handsomely.”

  She looked down and Luc saw her ears redden. “They do not pay as generously as you do, but they can offer me something your small theater cannot.”

  Luc had evaded the attempts of the larger theater houses to shut him down thus far. They did not like that a small theater, such as his, continued to operate under the shaky burletta license— a license so vague in its allowances, that only the good grace of the gentleman who granted it, Lord Chamberlain, kept his theater in business.

  Le Soleil had helped him provide a safe place and secure income for himself and his sister. It was their life now, and Luc would not give up without a fight.

  “What did they offer you?” he asked nonchalantly, pulling his pocket watch out to check the time.

  “Fame. My name will be in the papers in association with the largest theater house in London. People will know who I am all over the country.” The greed in her face was most unbecoming.

  “I have seen this happen before. You may become well-known, but unless you get a rich admirer, you will remain penniless. People demand to see their favorite actress dressed in the top fashions, driving the most exquisite carriages, hosting lavish parties… Is this the life you choose? Will you throw yourself at the feet of the highest bidder just to keep up with public demand? I can offer you your self-esteem by paying you enough to keep you self-reliant. My sister will make sure you have the best frocks. I do hope you reconsider.” Luc put his watch back in his pocket and looked intently at the young actress before him. She was so young. He did not want to see her compromise herself so easily. He had seen too many young women take that path, and it rarely went well for them.

  “Miss DeVries is leaving your theater to marry an earl. I will settle for nothing less than a duke.” She raised her nose in the air and crossed her arms defiantly.

  Luc could talk until he ran out of breath and she would not hear a word. He felt sick.

  “Miss DeVries was uncommonly fortunate. However, I can see that you have made your choice, and I wish you success in your endeavors. Can I count on your presence tonight?”

  “Yes. I will do my parts for the next four days. What I cannot do is perform as your lead. You will need to find a different Lady Macbeth.”

  If he had someone else to replace her with, he would tell her not to bother. But there was no one else.

  Having stated her business, she said, “I hope you find a replacement and I bid you good day.” She curtsied and flounced out of the room as quickly as she could walk in her heeled shoes.

  When she had gone, Luc pounded his fist against the wall. Where could he find a replacement on such short notice? His mind was empty of ideas, but he had to try. A failed final performance during the season would ruin him, and most likely affect his sister’s business. Failure was unacceptable.

  The small size of the costume was the least of Luc’s worries. He needed someone who could perform sensationally. Someone to end the season leaving the patrons wanting more. This was how he filled the seats in his theater night after night— by providing the best quality entertainment to be had in town.

  He discussed the situation with Adélaïde and began his search that very night, but he returned home a couple hours before dawn more anxious than before.

  After a disappointing morning spent in the theater, Luc decided to visit his sister in her shop. He needed some cheerfulness to ease his tense shoulders and aching head. Maybe I should switch from coffee to tea.

  The clock was ticking, and now the worry was finding someone with enough talent to fit the costumes and know the lines. He had three days.

  Gloom hovered over Luc as he entered the shop. But, as he had hoped, the happy chatter of Adélaïde and the girls greeted him at the door. Luc smiled at the sound of a woman’s laughter. What a lovely sound. He walked into the sewing room and saw Anne.

  He would do nothing to rain on her sunny day, so he did his best to lighten his humor. Adélaïde, of course, noticed.

  “I was hoping we would see you before Anne left. I think she might be able to help you with your predicament,” she said.

  Anne looked at him with worry on her face.

  It pained Luc to cause her anxiety. She had obstacles enough of her own. His nostrils flared at his sister for speaking out of turn and worrying Anne.

  “Ah, it is nothing to worry about. In fact, I would say that the predicament of which you speak is practically resolved.” He opened his hand like a magician making a coin disappear.

  Changing the subject, he asked about Lady Catherine. The great lady put up with his presence now, which in Luc’s mind was encouragement enough. He had learned that she was an admirer of Shakespeare’s plays, and her opinions on music gave them plenty to discuss.

  “I really must be going. I have one more portrait to do before father calls this afternoon. Perhaps you might call later? To visit Aunt Bernice, of course,” Anne asked while she chewed on her lower lip.

  He hated to disappoint her, but he would have to spend the rest of the day doing what he had the night before. Search for an actress. “I am afraid it is impossible today. I shall not even be present at the theater tonight. If all goes according to plan, I shall call tomorrow.”

  After she left, Adélaïde whacked him on the arm. “She would be perfect for the role. Why did you stop me?”

  “She is a born lady, not just any girl you picked off the street. Even if she were to help, her family could ostracize her. Do you not know who her cousin is? He is one of the Darcys of Pemberley. He is here, in town, and well-known to take great pride in his family’s untainted reputation. Her mother, though an avid reader of Shakespeare, is famous for her strict ways and would not take kindly to her daughter acting on the stage. Do you really think there would be no consequences for Anne? How could I ask so much from her?” Luc ran his hands through his hair, tousling his dark locks.

  Adélaïde stared at him, her mouth ajar, hands still on her hips. It was becoming her favorite stance, Luc thought.

  “You love her. I mean, you really love her,” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

  “Of course I do! I would marry her tomorrow if she would have me. I only hope that she respects me even half as much as I admire her. I would never give her cause to doubt me when my greatest wish is to ask her to be my wife. Promise me you will say nothing to her.” He looked around the room, knowing that everyone had heard the conversation. Everyone, including Nancy, nodded their head in agreement. Only Adélaïde stood with her arms crossed and her face so tense, Luc could see a muscle tensing at her jaw.

  Needing to act— to do something, anything— he left. Adélaïde would never understand. She was a businesswoman. To her, there was no issue.

  Going to the stables, he asked for his horse to be readied. He had many places to visit and very little time.

  Three days later

  Luc never did call. Over the past few days, Anne saw him only in passing. He looked so tired.

  Aunt Beatrice had no information, and when she asked Adélaïde about it, she tensed
and refused to talk. It felt like some horrible secret was being kept from her, and it unsettled Anne greatly.

  She had delivered the last of her portraits, received her payment, and was tidying up her workspace that afternoon. Nancy had brought a dress home to work on, and was stitching quietly in a corner.

  “What do you think he could be up to? Have you heard anything? Is Luc in trouble?” She sounded desperate, but she just had to know. “Please, tell me. If you know something… even if it is bad news… I do not care. I need to know that Luc is well.”

  Nancy put the dress aside and went over to Anne. “There is something you should be aware of, though he promised me to secrecy.”

  “What?” Anne was all concern.

  “Mr. Mauvier is in a real bind and you are the only person who can help him out of it now.”

  “How could I possibly help Luc?”

  “His dramatic performance tonight is without an actress. Miss Deitman left his theater, and now he stands to lose everything he has worked so hard for. You know the lines and the costumes would fit your petite frame.”

  Anne felt her head shake vigorously. “I could not. No, I could not. Imagine me, performing in front of hundreds of people. I should mess it all up and bring ridicule on top of ruin. I would be ruined if recognized. I am already walking a very fine line with my paintings. It is a miracle no one discovered me.” Anne hated herself for sounding like such a coward.

  “I suspected you would say something to that effect.” It was as effective as a slap on the face. Anne’s disgust with her weak character grew.

  Speaking softly and slowly, Nancy continued, “Adélaïde showed me some wigs the actresses sometimes use. If you wore a wig, and we put some powder here and there on your face, I doubt anyone should recognize you. Your mystery performance would intrigue the crowd and you could save Luc’s theater. Otherwise, I fear the other theaters will campaign against him to close him down. Adélaïde told me all about their threats. I have no doubt that Miss Deitman’s departure is their doing. They are looking for any excuse to do so as it is… What do you say, Miss Anne? Will you do it?”