Anne smiled at him and saw that Walter, too, seemed relieved that he was not the only one defending her that evening. Henry then began a lengthy discussion on India and the delights to be found therein. Walter and Anne were enthralled. Anne almost entirely forgot about the threesome and was glad to notice some time later that they had resorted to talking amongst themselves.
* * *
After dinner, Lady Catherine led Anne and Mrs Jenkinson into the drawing room and the men were left to the port and cigars back in the dining room. Anne was sure she was the object of their discussion.
Mrs Jenkinson had the same thought. “Oh, that I were a fly on that wall! I would love to hear what they are talking about just now,” she whispered to Anne as they seated themselves on the settee.
“Well, Anne, what opinions do you have of our guests?” Lady Catherine asked as she seated herself in her favourite chair.
Anne swallowed hard and cleared her throat to give herself time to formulate an answer. “I believe I have not known them sufficiently long enough to form an opinion, Mother. Neither have I had an opportunity to speak to them all. You, I believe, had a pleasant time with Charles Warrington and Walter Stapleton.”
Lady Catherine smiled. “Yes, indeed. What pleasant young men they are! One of them would do nicely for you, you know, Anne.”
Anne paled. “I’m thirsty, Mama. Shall we call for tea?”
* * *
The arrival of the gentlemen to the drawing room made Anne’s nose curl. She was unused to the smell of tobacco and her cousins, Darcy and Fitzwilliam, never took up the practice. She heard that inhaling the smoke was good for one, but she doubted anything smelling so foul could be in the least bit beneficial.
Horace Felton stood in the middle of the room and spoke overly loud. “I say, is anyone up for a game or two of cards? I promise to go easy on you.”
Anne looked away when his eyes fell on her. She would rather be subjected to Monty Fitz-Herbert and his gibing than sit and gamble with that man. Anne was surprised at her own thoughts. She had never before taken such an instant disliking to someone. She was sure there was a foundation to her dislike, despite not knowing what. Soon a card table was set up and a game begun. Anne was glad to escape being coerced into playing.
Henry seated himself next to Anne and beside him sat his son, the new parson. Anne was pleased to have the opportunity of speaking with James. Ever since making the decision to visit with Mr and Mrs Collins, she determined that she would never again be a stranger in the parsonage. She learnt his name was James William Watkins and that he had two older brothers – Henry and George Watkins. Henry, his father, owned a successful business that imported spices from India. The subject fascinated Anne and she asked more questions than propriety allowed, but the two men did not mind in the least. She discovered that Henry junior ran the business from London and George ran it from a region in India called Kerala. Anne thought the place sounded marvellous and found their tales exciting. Henry explained to her how arduous the route was. In order to avoid getting caught up in sea skirmishes due to the war with Napoléon, his ships sailed from England and around the Cape of Good Hope rather than through the Mediterranean. This added weeks to the voyage time and Henry bemoaned how it grew increasingly difficult to satisfy his customers. He told her that the clippers from China took one hundred days to reach England, and he wished his ships were as fast. James, she learnt, as the youngest, was the most indulged of the sons. Anne wondered what it was like to grow up with brothers. She always loved it when her cousins visited, but still she was unable to enjoy fully their company, owing to her mother’s protectiveness. James was free to be ordained as a minister, which was where his heart lay. Anne admired him for that. She knew only too well that it was not easy to break free from family tradition.
Before she knew it, Anne had sat and conversed with only two of their guests for the entirety of the evening. She did not know what her mother would say about her manners, but she concluded that she had never spent such a pleasant evening in the whole course of her life.
The threesome were talking to Lady Catherine about taking the horses out riding in the morning. She overheard one of them ask if Anne could join them. Anne turned away and pulled Mrs Jenkinson towards the pianoforte rather than have to bear hearing her mother’s response. Mrs Jenkinson caught her meaning, opened the instrument, and began to play. Anne discreetly looked at the mantle clock and was pleased to see that it was nearing the hour when she could retire for the night. She feared being coerced into joining them for an outing.
Her nerves and fear seemed to fill her with an energy that she could not explain. She sat down and nudged Mrs Jenkinson along the stool. Her companion looked shocked. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I am growing tired of being ridiculed by them already, my dear Mrs Jenkinson. What shall we play?”
Anne watched the smile spread across Mrs Jenkinson’s face. She placed her hands on the keys and they began to play their favourite duet.
Despite having fun, Anne knew she would endure her mother’s wrath. When she looked up, she saw only her mother’s white face, staring wide-eyed at her in disbelief. Anne suddenly realised that her bravado had been severely misplaced.
* * *
After bidding her mother and their guests a good night, Anne made her way to her room. Despite surprising more than one of their guests and being congratulated too for her skill at the pianoforte, Anne took no pleasure in her achievement. Each and every time she gazed in her mother’s direction and saw her pinched expression and narrowed eyes, Anne felt an acute stab of guilt in her heart. She did not intentionally mean to hurt her mother, only to assert herself. However unintentional the hurt, it was there and painfully plain to her. She not only went against her mother’s wishes and learnt to play the pianoforte, but she flaunted that fact in front of her and all of their guests. Anne felt close to tears as she thought of all the things that she did in secret, away from her mother’s prying eyes. She painted rather well in watercolours. Her needlework skill was acceptable and she had revealed to the threesome that she could also dance. Keenly, now, she felt the injury done to her mother. She wished that their guests would all go home and she could hide in Rosings forever.
As she reached out and grabbed the handle to her door, she realised that someone was behind her. Before she could turn around, she was roughly seized by the arm and turned to face whoever it was. Anne was shocked to see it was her mother. She stood so closely by that Anne felt her breath on her face. Her nails dug painfully into Anne’s skin.
“What do you think you are playing at, young lady?” Lady Catherine hissed through her teeth into Anne’s face.
“Mama, I…” Anne stuttered as the tears came.
“I know what you are about! You are determined to shame me and play me for a fool!”
Anne had never seen her mother so angry before.
“How long have you been deceiving me? Hmm?”
Anne could not speak for weeping.
“I will not stand for it. Do you hear?” She shook Anne’s arm. Anne’s entire body moved and she almost lost her footing. “I will not tolerate disobedience. I cannot believe that my own child would wilfully disobey me. I know whom to blame. You should say your good-byes to Mrs Jenkinson. She will not be here in the morning.”
Lady Catherine straightened herself up and pushed Anne into her bedroom. “Now get ready for bed, and I suggest you spend the night thinking about your behaviour and what you owe to your mother!”
Lady Catherine slammed the door and Anne was left standing in her room, crying and staring into the mortified face of Mrs Jenkinson, who heard the whole discourse.
Anne had no words, only tears. Her companion’s face mirrored hers. Slowly they crossed the space between them, clasped hands, and gave way to the grief that overwhelmed them. All Anne could think was, what have I done?
They did not know how long they remained thus. Anne was sure it was not long when her la
dy’s maid entered the room and informed them that Mrs Jenkinson was to go to Lady Catherine’s room immediately.
SEVEN
_______________________________
Lady Catherine could not fathom what came over Anne. She never, in all her years as a mother, saw Anne behave with such blatant disregard for her wishes. Never once had they spoken a cross word, and never had Anne disobeyed her. Yet, that very evening, Lady Catherine had seen evidence, with her own eyes, to the contrary. It seemed that not only was Anne going expressly against her wishes and exerting herself unnecessarily, but, she was loathe to admit, had accomplished herself in so doing.
As she prepared for bed that night, Lady Catherine was torn. On the one hand, she was furious with Anne, but on the other, she could not hide a sense of pride in her daughter that bubbled away inside her. It was at that moment that Lady Catherine realised her own loneliness and isolation from the world. She was overwhelmed just then with a desire to rush off and tell someone about what she had discovered of Anne. She wanted to extoll her virtues and bemoan her filial disobedience. She allowed herself a moment of joy and smiled at the memory of seeing Anne playing the pianoforte so well. However, a shadow fell across her face at the remembrance of what she said regarding Mrs Jenkinson. She knew the seed of rebellion might have been Anne’s, but suspected that it was Mrs Jenkinson who watered it and nurtured it to maturity. If Lady Catherine was to regain control of her daughter, then Mrs Jenkinson definitely had to go.
She hardened her resolve, rang the bell, and summoned Mrs Jenkinson to her room.
* * *
Anne had a restless night. She didn’t fall asleep until it was almost first light. She was thoroughly wracked with guilt, not only for blatantly being disrespectful to her mother, but for being the cause of Mrs Jenkinson’s dismissal. She found sleep only after she eased her conscience a little by writing a glowing reference for Mrs Jenkinson. She knew her now-former companion would have to leave at first light, and so silently crept out of her room and, with a marginally lighter heart, tucked the letter under Mrs Jenkinson’s door. She prayed that it would be of some use.
Anne did not wish to see her mother the next morning, and she certainly could not have stomached a single bite of breakfast. She decided instead to go out walking. Her mother would not notice her absence if she returned early enough. She dressed quietly and unaided, picked up her bonnet, and slipped out of her room. It was her intention to leave the house unseen, but as she reached the entrance hall, she could hear her mother’s voice growing louder. Providence must have been smiling upon Anne in pity that morning, for at the very moment she thought she would be discovered, Charles and Walter came out of the breakfast room and intercepted Lady Catherine. Charles shot a quick glance in Anne’s direction, and while moving his body to block her from view, he signalled with his left hand that she should depart quickly.
Every movement Anne made seemed to produce an exaggeratedly loud noise and she feared discovery. She opened the door and slipped out. She couldn’t resist peeking back through the crack as she closed the door behind her. She was astonished. Charles and Walter had led her mother into the breakfast room, leaving Anne unobserved and free to take her walk. She could hardly breathe. Her heart pounded against her chest, but she had to think clearly. She knew she must choose a path that would not reveal her from the windows as she crossed the grounds. Before she knew it, she was out of sight and able to breathe freely again. She slowed her pace and decided to head to the church. She wanted peace and quiet to order her thoughts and, admittedly, she desired to pray for forgiveness.
* * *
The church was cold but reassuringly peaceful and welcoming that morning. The silence enveloped her and she no longer felt alone and desperate as she knelt to pray. She wept bitterly and poured out her heart to the Lord and, without fear of reprisals, asked for forgiveness. She remained kneeling on the hassock, letting the peace and relief of being unburdened wash over her.
Some time later, she stood to leave. She straightened her skirts and turned to see James Watkins sitting in a pew a few rows back with his head bowed in prayer. She had no idea that anyone else had entered the church and believed herself to be alone. She certainly would not have spoken her prayers aloud otherwise. She was not surprised to see the parson there and in prayer, but she was concerned over how much he heard of her own heart that morning.
She decided to walk as quietly as possible past the praying man and out of the church.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Miss de Bourgh.”
Anne gasped as he spoke to her.
He looked up slowly and smiled. “I am bound not to repeat a single word I hear in prayer.”
Anne thought about his words for a moment. She knew that was true, but she also knew very few ministers who would not have gone running to her mother the instant Anne was gone.
James saw the hesitancy in her eyes. “And I certainly would never dream of telling Lady Catherine.” He smiled again.
He had a kind smile and Anne felt disarmed by it.
“Would you like to talk with me for a while?” he asked her gently.
Anne could not explain it, but despite recently pouring out her heart in prayer, she did indeed wish to talk with the new minister. “You will not inform my mother?”
He shook his head. “Never will I betray your trust, Miss de Bourgh.”
Anne sat next to him and clasped her hands in front of her. Where to begin? He already knew the most of it. She chewed her bottom lip, unsure of where to start and what to say to him.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he spoke gently. Anne liked that. He had a kind voice. He was not overbearing or commanding, but friendly.
“The beginning?”
“Yes, tell me about your childhood.”
Anne frowned, unsure how that would explain her current situation.
“It might help me to understand the whole circumstance better.”
It was Anne’s turn to smile, then. He made her feel better before she even said a word to him. After that, Anne found that it was easy to talk to James, and she was glad of his presence in the church that morning.
* * *
Anne walked back to Rosings with a lighter step later that morning. She still had to avoid being seen through any of the windows where her mother might have been. However, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was thankful that James came and then remembered Mr and Mrs Collins, and said a quick prayer of blessing for them. She hoped they were settling in well in Derbyshire.
Thinking of Derbyshire reminded her that she had asked Mrs Collins to petition the new Mrs Darcy to write to her. As Anne entered the house, her cousin Darcy was on her mind and she was surprised to see a letter from Pemberley for her on the platter in the hall. Her mother couldn’t have seen the post had arrived yet, or it would have been opened and read. Anne snatched it up, ran to her room unseen, and locked the door so that she might read it in private.
Anne’s hands trembled as she unfolded the letter and began to read. Mrs Elizabeth Darcy was indeed the author of the epistle. Anne was a little hurt that Elizabeth was somewhat vague in all she had to say, but deep down Anne knew that if the letter was discovered, she would suffer for it. She smiled to hear news of Pemberley and was grateful that Elizabeth wished to write to her. She read the letter through twice and then tucked it away in her journal to attend to that night. She knew she’d have to think about what to say to her new cousin. There was so much she could say and so much that she ought to conceal. However, the letter brought a much-needed smile to Anne’s face that morning. She was heartily glad to receive it. It gave her a little more strength to face the day and all that awaited her below stairs.
She thought of Mrs Jenkinson as she left the room and felt a pang of guilt once again. No good would come of sulking, she knew, no matter how much she wanted to. Anne wished things had turned out differently. She despised being the cause of her companion’s dismissal.
She prayed that Mrs Jenkinson found a new position soon.
* * *
The weather outside had begun to turn and the clouds were closing in. Anne knew that the threesome would be back from their ride sooner than expected if it rained. She did not relish the thought and so decided to make the most of their absence by joining the other guests in the drawing room. When she entered, her mother was nowhere to be seen.
“Good morning, Miss de Bourgh,” Charles sang out. He and Walter were playing a quiet game of chess. “The weather has turned, I’m afraid. Walter and I thought it best to stay indoors.”
Anne smiled at him and seated herself where she could watch them play.
“Your mother is detained on business.” Walter grinned at her.
Charles shook his head at him. “Oh, Walter, you’re such a gossip. I believe, Miss de Bourgh, that Mr Watkins called upon Her Ladyship this morning.”
Anne paled, suddenly scared that James had betrayed her confidence. Why could she not have remained quiet? Why did she have to trust the clergyman?
“Not to worry. I am sure it’s nothing grave.” The two gentlemen had obviously noted her pallor, she thought, and sought to console her. “It was pleasant to have Mr Watkins and his son at dinner last night. I enjoyed hearing about India so much that Charles and I are thinking of travelling.”
Anne looked at him in astonishment. She feared giving herself away. “W…what do you mean?”
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