After a while the man sighed, packed away his instruments, and then perched himself on the edge of Anne’s bed and laid a hand over hers. “Miss de Bourgh, I pray that you will not take offense and will not mind in the least if I am frank with you.” He peered over his glasses at her and she nodded for him to continue. “I cannot, no matter what your esteemed mother says, find anything wrong with you whatsoever.”
Anne looked at him in disbelief.
“Miss de Bourgh, I would not deceive you. You may rest assured upon that point.”
Anne frowned.
“In fact, I might let you into a little secret.” She watched as he pushed his glasses up his nose and leant towards her conspiratorially. “I never have found anything wrong with you.” He sat upright again and smiled. “Apart from the usual maladies; the grippe, a head cold, an earache, you have never been the sick individual that you have been persuaded you are.”
Anne could not find her voice to express the thoughts surging through her mind at that moment. To sit and listen to this man, whom she trusted greatly, confirm what she had long thought, was like a cannon blast in her soul. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Neither did she care that the doctor was watching her, seeing her inner turmoil.
“I understand how you must feel.” He patted her hand. “But now I must be harsh with you.”
Anne looked up into his face, scared of what he might say.
“Unless you make a strong, concerted effort to break these strictures that bind you, which your mother impresses upon you, I fear that your future will be bleak, indeed.”
Anne frowned at him again.
“Miss de Bourgh, unless you exert yourself, get out of the house and take regular exercise, make friends and…” He shook his head at her. “…get a life of your own, then you will, for certain, fall victim to malady and old age much sooner than you think, my dear!”
“Old age?” Anne muttered.
“Aye! For a body that does not take exercise, move about and breathe fresh air, will wither away before its time. Can I make myself any plainer?”
Anne shook her head at him. His meaning was plain enough. She would certainly be the sickly creature her mother insisted she was if she did not do something. She knew it deep down inside, and was it not from exerting herself and walking to the parsonage that very day that she ended up with a visit from the doctor in the first place?
Her chest tightened with fear and her breathing became rapid.
“Miss de Bourgh, what is it?” the doctor asked her.
She did not pause to answer him. Anne pushed the bedclothes aside and rushed to the window. She threw open the window and thrust her head through the opening and took great gulps of air into her lungs. She felt as if she would be sick. The doctor’s words reverberated around her head like a death knell.
Little by little, as she continued to breathe the fresh air deeply, the uneasiness left her and she was able to think clearly once again.
She turned to the doctor, who was watching her with concern. “Dr Sawyer, are you in earnest with what you have told me?” She knew the answer to that already, but needed to hear it from his very lips.
“Aye, my dear, I am.”
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to convey the same message to my mother?” Anne asked as she chewed her lip.
The doctor sighed and looked down at the floor before answering her. “My dear, I have been telling your mother that you are in the fullness of health since you were a small child. She will not hear a word I say on the matter. This must come from you and you alone.”
Anne watched as the doctor turned, picked up his bag, and made to leave the room. “I bid you good day, Miss de Bourgh, and God bless you.” He smiled kindly at her and departed.
Anne closed her eyes and felt her stomach knot. She knew that Dr Sawyer would be interrogated by her mother, but then she had to face her. And she would have to repeat all that he already said.
The door to the adjoining room opened and Mrs Jenkinson appeared. “I hope you don’t think I was eavesdropping, Miss, but I heard what the doctor said.”
“Oh, Mrs Jenkinson, how am I to persuade Mother?” Anne looked distraught.
“I might have an idea.” Mrs Jenkinson stepped forward and spoke quietly to Anne. “We could tell her that the doctor suggested a turn in the garden each day to make you stronger. It’s not all the truth, but it’s no lie, Miss. Persuading your mother little by little would be preferable to forcing the truth upon her in one fell swoop.”
Anne smiled at her companion. She always saw things a little clearer and more calmly than she did. Yes, it would be a good beginning, and when her mother became used to her taking a turn in the garden, she would venture further and her mother would be none the wiser. She laughed at the scheme, knowing that in going against her mother’s wishes, she would be doing precisely what the doctor ordered and what she greatly desired, as well.
Anne remained in her room while the doctor spoke with her mother in the drawing room. Anne did not dare leave before he had laid the groundwork for her getting out of the house.
After a while, she began to pace. Mrs Jenkinson, who went to discover if the doctor had left, did not return, and Anne grew agitated. She knew if she left the room, her mother would be angry. After all, she believed her unwell and, therefore, Anne should be resting. But how could she rest now? That very morning Anne tasted freedom and made a friend. She returned home and encountered her mother, but instead of incurring her wrath, she felt as though all her birthdays came at once. Anne suspected the reason why the house was silent and her mother had not come to see her was that her mother was indignant about the doctor’s advice. Whether this was true or false, Anne had no way of knowing, but her mind began to race and convince her of its verity.
She had just begun to fear that her scheme would never come to fruition when Mrs Jenkinson suddenly reappeared in the doorway.
“Oh, Miss, there’s such a to-do!” She said breathlessly and sat herself on the chaise.
Anne patiently waited for her companion to catch her breath and continue.
“The doctor was frank with Her Ladyship.” Mrs Jenkinson closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, she’s not used to being spoken to so directly. You can imagine how she reacted to that, but he pressed on, so he did. She couldn’t stop him; he had that look about him.” She nodded as though her meaning was clear.
“Which look do you mean, Mrs Jenkinson?” Anne asked.
“That determined one doctors have. I reckon they teach them that at doctor school.” She waved her hand to bring her train of thought back to the subject. “He told her outright, once she’d scolded him. ‘If you don’t encourage that daughter of yours to get out of the house and to take fresh air and exercise every day, no matter the weather, then you’ll lose her’, he said.”
Anne poured Mrs Jenkinson a glass of water, which she gratefully accepted.
“Well, Her Ladyship didn’t take his meaning at all. No, she scoffed at him, she did. So he spelt it out.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Anne, I’ve never seen Her Ladyship so white-faced in all my years of being here. Scared out of her wits, she is. You won’t have any bother now. I am convinced you can come and go as you please.”
“Is my mother well? Does she need me to attend her?”
“She’s had the shock of her life, I’d say. It’d probably do her some good and all.”
Anne turned and headed for the door.
“Leave her be, Anne dear. She’ll be herself again come dinnertime, I’m sure of it. Give her some time alone to think on what he said to her.”
Anne nodded and returned to sit beside her companion. The wait between then and the dinner gong seemed interminable. They tried to take up their sewing, but it could not occupy them for more than a few minutes. Mrs Jenkinson took up a book of poetry to read to Anne, but she wasn’t listening to a word. Anne felt consumed by the desire to know what her mother would say. Would she be permitted to take exercise outside the hou
se or not?
At one point, Mrs Jenkinson mentioned the party of young men descending upon them all on the following day, and Anne laughed at herself when she realised she had entirely forgotten about them. What would Mother say about that if she knew?
FIVE
_______________________________
Lady Catherine de Bourgh hadn’t said a word to her daughter throughout dinner, and now, as they sat in the drawing room taking coffee that evening, she remained silent still. She stared at Anne a great deal, and was paler than usual. Anne could not be certain, but she thought she saw her mother fighting back tears. She did not know what to say to her mother, or if she should say anything at all. She desperately wished to talk about Dr Sawyer’s visit with her. She wanted to know what would be done.
Anne remained as quiet as possible. It was obvious her mother was distressed. She did not wish to agitate her already fragile emotional state. Lady Catherine had never been one to display her emotions, and both of them felt the awkwardness of the situation. Still, Anne prayed that it would bode well for her.
Anne retired early that night. She could not bear to remain in the drawing room and watch the emotional battle that her mother was fighting any longer. She was conscious of her mother watching her climb the stairs to her room. Anne could only guess at what she was thinking and feeling, and more than once she wanted to run to her and embrace her. She knew that would be one shock too many for her mother that day, and so, as she reached her room, she turned back and gave her a loving smile.
* * *
Lady Catherine wasn’t having a good day. Reverend Oates received a torrent of letters declining the offer of the living at Hunsford, and Lady Catherine was at her wit’s end with regards to that situation. Her visit to Westerham had proven fruitless and she returned home tired, irritable, and dusty from the road.
Then, from one of the French windows, she spied her daughter walking across the grounds. At first she had thought she was dreaming or had mistaken one of the servants for her daughter, but as the figure grew closer, all doubt fled.
The fear that gripped her belly was paralysing and she could barely breathe as Anne walked towards the house, unaware that she was being observed. By the time Anne walked through the doors and came face to face with Lady Catherine, the latter had thankfully recovered enough to be able to take charge of the situation. She quickly ushered Anne to her room and the doctor was rapidly called for. Lady Catherine was well aware that she was gibbering somewhat and that she hadn’t made much sense as she spoke, but one thing she knew for certain was that Anne could become very seriously ill indeed from venturing out of doors.
Dr Sawyer arrived promptly and was shown immediately to Anne’s room. Lady Catherine waited in the drawing room. She did not wait patiently, however, but twisted her handkerchief in her hands so tightly that she bruised her forefingers. When the doctor eventually came down to her, she was close to being hysterical. She convinced herself that the longer he took examining Anne, the worse her condition must be. What he had to say to her, though, nothing could have prepared her for. She sat in silence as the doctor spelt out his professional opinion.
To hear that everything she did over the years to protect her precious, only child had achieved nothing short of the predicted deterioration of her health was heartwrenching. That keeping her cloistered and safe at home was the worst thing she could ever have done was worse than a slap across the face.
Lady Catherine sat, appalled, and stared at the doctor. She tried to explain why she always acted in the way she had, but all her protestations were dismissed without apology. She was rebuked, in short, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Once the doctor left, Lady Catherine sat still and quiet, alone in the drawing room. She could not bear to see Anne just then. Her emotions were too raw. They remained so for the following hours. As they dined together, Lady Catherine could hardly eat and constantly fought back the flood of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Her greatest fear was staring her in the face. She might lose Anne forever if something was not done about it now, and yet, try as she might, she could not quite accept the reality of it all.
She stood at the bottom of the stairs as Anne ascended to retire that night. She wanted to call out, to wish her sweet dreams, to tell her God bless you, but she couldn’t give those feelings a voice. When Anne reached her doorway, it was as though she could hear her mother’s thoughts. Lady Catherine’s heart leapt for joy as Anne turned and smiled back at her. Once the door to Anne’s room shut, she fled quickly to her own room and secretly gave way to the flood of emotion she was holding back.
* * *
The following day, Anne was up early. The thought of their soon-to-arrive visitors robbed her of much-needed sleep. She rang for hot water and quietly awaited Mrs Jenkinson’s arrival. When the older woman arrived, they were merry and twittered a lot about Anne’s newfound freedom. Anne could barely contain her excitement. However, by the time they dressed and descended to breakfast with Lady Catherine, Anne’s excitement turned to dread.
Lady Catherine awaited them in the small breakfast room and did not look up from her repast as they entered. A knot formed in Anne’s stomach as she watched her mother’s expression. It had turned to granite once again. Anne helped herself to some food on the sideboard and sat facing her mother.
“I do dislike it when those who obtain an education think that they are more informed than their betters.” Lady Catherine did not look up as she spoke. “I cannot see that he is cleverer than the run-of-the-mill physician, so why he feels he can dictate to me, I do not know.”
“Of whom are you speaking, Mama?” Anne could barely get the words out, for her throat was tightening.
“That meddling, so-called practitioner of medicine, Dr Sawyer, that’s who. Who does he think he is to dictate to me, of all people, the manner in which I am to bring up my own child?”
Anne could eat no more and put her knife and fork down with a clatter. She felt as if she would never breathe again as the realisation of what her mother said hit her.
“I’m damaging her health, indeed!” Lady Catherine continued. “What utter nonsense! No, I have made my mind up and I am immovable on the subject. Anne, you shall take your exercise within the walls of Rosings’ house itself, and only within Rosings.”
Mrs Jenkinson gasped and drew Lady Catherine’s gaze.
“Do you have something to say, Mrs Jenkinson? It seems everyone is an expert on my daughter these days!”
Mrs Jenkinson wisely shook her head and muttered that she did not have anything to say.
“Good. That’s settled, then.” Lady Catherine looked satisfied with herself. She looked at Anne, who sat unmoving, “Anne, if you’ve finished your breakfast, you can run along and prepare yourself, for our guests are expected to arrive soon.”
Anne’s eyes filled with tears as she fled the room and her mother turned on Mrs Jenkinson.
“Are you still here, Mrs Jenkinson? Do you have nothing to do? I am sure I can find something for you if you lack employment.”
As Anne climbed the stairs, Wilson arrived with that morning’s post and she clearly heard her mother’s jubilant voice. “Ah, a letter from Canterbury. Perhaps now we will have a minister, and can get back some semblance of normality.”
* * *
At Mrs Jenkinson’s bidding, Anne bathed her face and tried to stop crying. She found it difficult to pull herself together.
“Now, now, my dear!” Mrs Jenkinson cooed. “Your mother is an immovable object and you know it well.” She handed Anne a fresh handkerchief.
Anne wiped her tears away and sighed.
“I think we might have forgotten something.” Mrs Jenkinson was smiling as Anne turned to face her.
“What do you mean?” Anne looked down at the dress that Mrs Jenkinson was holding in her hands. “Not that one, the blue one.”
The other dress was fetched and laid out on the bed before Mrs Jenkinson explained what she meant.
> “If you are to choose a particular gentleman, then you cannot avoid taking chaperoned walks with him, can you?”
“Oh, do not remind me! I cannot bear the thought of the next few weeks,” Anne replied as Mrs Jenkinson helped her out of her morning dress.
“I don’t think you catch my meaning, Anne.”
A smile slowly spread across her features as the realisation of what her companion said dawned. She laughed. “You are a genius!” Anne spun around and embraced her friend. “I will be, I am sure, forced into taking romantic walks with our visitors.”
Mrs Jenkinson beamed back at her. “And perhaps sometimes you might forget to take a gentleman with you.”
Both ladies laughed at the scheme.
“Mrs Jenkinson, I thank God for you. You always know the right thing to say and you always see a silver lining in all the dark clouds which hang above my head.”
Anne’s mood lightened as she was dressed and readied for their guests to arrive. She even dared to ask her lady’s maid to try to do something a little more à la mode with her hair. She saw a style she fancied in some fashion plates that Mrs Jenkinson had in her room. Anne surmised that if she waited until the carriages were at the door, her mother could not object and send her back to her room to be re-coiffed.
Anne paced back and forth across the floor of her room. She hated to wait for people to arrive. Before long, though, Anne heard a horn sound and perceived the crunch of the wheels on the gravel before she actually saw the carriage. It amused her greatly and calmed her nerves somewhat to see that the first carriage to arrive bore Charles Warrington and Walter Stapleton. She had been introduced to them once when her mother took her to a play in London, and recognised them at once.
Rosings Page 4