TEN
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The morning dawned clear and promised to be another beautiful day. Anne, however, wore a thundercloud over her head and did not wish to rise at all. She snuggled down under her covers and wished to return to the peace of sleep. Her wish was denied, though, when the maid arrived to open the curtains and signal the beginning of Anne’s day. It was a day that filled her with utter dread.
Anne hoped more than anything that a marriage proposal would not be forthcoming that morning. She even prayed that Monty would lose his voice and be unable to ask her. That only served to make her feel worse and she quickly prayed for forgiveness to assuage her feelings of guilt.
Anne was surprised to see Monty in the breakfast room when she descended to eat. He was usually a late riser and she counted upon that fact to avoid him completely before church. Her face, she was sure, gave away her feelings of dismay at seeing him there and of being in the room with him alone. If he noticed, he did not show it.
He swallowed down a mouthful of food and half rose upon seeing her standing aghast in the doorway. “Good morning, Miss Anne. Frightfully good spread this morning; won’t you join me?”
Yes, Monty, I slept well, thank you, Anne thought spitefully as she seated herself in her usual place, grateful that she was a few places down the table from him. To her own shame, she could not bear to speak to him, let alone look at the man. For some reason she could not name, her fear of being proposed to had turned to anger. She wanted to lash out verbally at him across the table, but knew taking her frustrations out on him was not proper at all.
“Are you awaiting anyone in particular, Miss Anne?”
Anne looked up at Monty in surprise when he spoke her name. She realised that she was repeatedly looking with hope at the door, knowing that soon the others would join them.
“Oh, no one in particular. I merely thought I heard someone outside the door. That is all.”
“I shall look for you, if you wish.” Monty rose and Anne felt guilty again. Her falsehood forced the man to be courteous and she was ashamed of herself. She watched him cross the room, open the door, and look outside into the hallway.
“There appears to be nobody there,” he declared as he rejoined her at the table. “I am confident that the person you are so impatiently awaiting will be along soon enough,” he continued with a bitter note in his voice.
Anne knew if she did not find a suitable subject of conversation, they would inevitably descend into an unpleasant argument. That, she certainly did not want.
She cleared her throat and said the first thing that came into her mind. “I should think that it will seem strange not having Mr Collins in the pulpit this morning. He was the parson here in Hunsford for many a year.”
“I heard that he was a dullard and rather amusing to observe.”
Although she achieved her desired wish of diverting the conversation, her newfound loyalty and friendship to the Collinses meant his statement rankled her.
“On the contrary, Mr Collins is a very pleasant man. I only wish I knew him better before he departed.”
Monty raised his eyebrows. “Indeed?”
“Aye, indeed. I became well acquainted with Mr Collins and his wife of late and found them to be very pleasant people, to be sure.”
“Pleasant?” Monty’s smirk returned. “But dull.”
Anne took in a deep breath, held it, and counted to ten. The man certainly was infuriating. By the time she released it, there were indeed sounds emanating from the hallway, declaring that their other guests were about to descend upon the breakfast room.
Anne could not have been happier to see the arrival of Charles, Walter, Horace, and Ernest. However, their furtive looks between herself and Monty gave her to believe that they felt they had interrupted something. She wanted to shout that there wasn’t anything between them and, if she had her way, there never would be. However, propriety stayed her tongue, and she smiled happily at them all while wishing them a good morning and enquiring as to whether they slept well.
The conversation was the usual stilted, early morning chatter as the occupants of the room endeavoured to awaken themselves suitably for church. Anne was pleased when she finished eating and could escape back to her room for a time.
She sat down at her writing table and began to write as cheerful a letter as she could to her new cousin, Elizabeth Darcy. When she finished skirting around the edges of that particular missive, she wrote in a similar vein to Mrs Collins. She fervently hoped the two women would confer over the letters, piece the whole together, and be able to write and offer some advice.
After sealing the letters and addressing them, she put quill to paper once again and poured out her troubled heart to her cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam. She was sad his correspondence was so sporadic, but she assumed that was due to the war.
* * *
Anne accompanied her mother, as usual, to church that morning. The church was bathed in sunshine and gave Anne such a warm welcome that she felt the Lord was there to offer her succour. Lady Catherine immediately took her place, but Anne hesitated. She was struck by the sun flooding the building with multi-coloured light through the stained-glass window. She must have seen that particular sight hundreds of times throughout her life, but at that moment, she felt as if she had never seen it before. She lifted up her eyes to the figure of the saint painted on the glass and felt compelled to pray. As her lips formed the first words, her mother’s voice cut through the reverent silence of the place. “Anne, come along. Do not dawdle!”
With barely hidden irritation, Anne joined her mother and sat to await the beginning of the service. She could not shake, however, the feelings that overcame her. Anne was a devout believer all of her life, but never, until that moment, had what she would have called a religious experience. She wondered at it. What could it mean? Was it a calling from God? Or was it merely the sun shining at a propitious moment to warm her heart? Upon further contemplation, Anne felt that perhaps she was beginning to clutch at straws for an exit to her predicament. She almost laughed aloud at herself during the opening prayers to imagine that she could ever take holy orders and become a nun.
As it turned out, the service was much more interesting than she usually found. Once she forgot her momentary calling, she realised James Watkins was indeed a gifted minister. He called upon real life and every day examples to illustrate the Bible verses he taught from.
Anne stole a look at her mother and saw that even she nodded from time to time, and obviously approved. However, Anne did not think it would be long before her mother insisted upon James visiting so she could approve of his weekly sermon. The very thought made Anne sad. The man obviously had a passion for what he did and she hoped her mother would not interfere in the least.
After the service, James and Henry Watkins were invited back to Rosings for dinner, and Anne was deep in thought as they drove back to the house. Her mother mentioned to her how moving and meaningful the sermon was. Anne was pleased that her mother felt the same way she did and they enjoyed their drive home in peace and quiet. Once they were back at Rosings, they all went together into the drawing room to take tea.
“Oh Lordy, what a frightful waste of a morning that was!” Horace declared loudly.
“Goodness, yes! I almost fell asleep while that James fellow was talking.”
“What do you mean, Ernest?” Anne almost snapped at his impertinence.
“Oh, come now, Miss de Bourgh. You cannot tell me that you too were not bored to tears, listening to him drone on.”
“Certainly I can say no such thing, Ernest. I thought the sermon was well written, his point extremely well made, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.” Anne realised that her remarks looked like favouritism, however, she was unprepared for their laughter.
“Come now, Anne! You jest, surely.” Monty huffed irritably.
“I kid you not, I am in earnest.” This made them laugh all the harder at her. She felt like crying
from frustration, but knew it would not do her any good at all. These men were obviously of an entirely different ilk to her.
* * *
Lady Catherine was truly surprised by the eloquence of her new parson that morning and was eager to discuss his sermon further over Sunday dinner. However, during the hour or so before dinner was served, the conversation in the drawing room led her to feel that her guests were less than godly men. For the first time since their arrival, Lady Catherine began to harbour doubts about her gentlemen guests’ morality. She would have to keep a closer eye upon young Montague if he wished to become her son-in-law.
Until the Watkinses arrived, she sat, pretending to read, and observed Monty closely. This day there seemed to have developed an icy air between him and Anne. This concerned Lady Catherine greatly. All her plans were in jeopardy if no proposal of marriage was forthcoming. She decided she had to devise a plan to bring the young pair together so that they might have a moment’s peace to speak of their amour. Lady Catherine frowned at herself. What had love to do with matrimony?
* * *
Dinner was a much more comfortable affair in comparison to awaiting the arrival of Henry and James that morning. The father and son had a calmness about them that radiated and touched those around. Anne was a much happier person in their presence, she noted, than when alone with the threesome. In fact, she perceived herself relax almost as soon as they arrived. She was puzzled by her reaction, but dismissed it as a natural response to friends.
Anne did not have an opportunity to speak privately with James at all that afternoon, although she managed to convey to him that she greatly desired the chance to ask his advice on a most pressing matter. James saw the urgency in her face and readily consented.
They were yet to arrange a time and place when Monty spoke up and, in his booming voice, addressed the room as a whole. “I say, what say you all to a picnic on the morrow if the weather is fair and all?”
A shiver of awkwardness spread through the room. No one willingly volunteered to go on an outing with Monty in the fear that they would be the only ones. However, the atmosphere relaxed as soon as Horace and Ernest agreed that it was a capital idea indeed.
“Splendid!” Monty clapped his hands together. “What say you, Your Ladyship?”
Lady Catherine looked shocked at being thusly addressed, but remembered herself quickly and acquiesced. Anne knew her mother wanted to keep Monty sweet. Inwardly, she sighed, knowing full well she ought to agree also. She caught James’ eye and saw therein that he believed they would have the sought-for opportunity to talk during the picnic.
“I – if I may, Monty – I would like to be one of the party,” James boldly replied.
“That’s the spirit!” Monty clapped James on the back and James rolled his eyes at his father.
“Well, I won’t be left alone in the parsonage when you’re all out having fun. Count me in too.” Henry said.
Anne then felt it was safe to agree to join them all as well.
“I knew you’d come along, Anne.” Monty winked at her. Anne shuddered. She wished he wouldn’t act with such familiarity towards her. As she turned away, she saw Charles was watching her and she was pleased when he and Walter said they would also like to be of the party.
The picnic was arranged, with Monty taking the lead in its organisation, and they all agreed to meet just after breakfast the following morning.
Anne felt she could bear the rest of the day tolerably, knowing they would all be out of the confines of Rosings Park on the following day, as Monty had to behave with propriety in public. She also prayed she would be permitted to walk with James and ask for his advice regarding her predicament.
In all the excitement and chatter over the picnic, Anne felt a small miracle had happened; Monty did not approach her nor her mother to ask for a private audience. Anne could barely contain her relief and, her confidence grew that she might well indeed escape the fate of being forced to be Mrs Montague Fitz-Herbert. However, she knew she was not free from his advances yet. As the day wore on, she found herself increasingly surprised upon turning and seeing Monty sitting next to her.
“Miss Anne, you seem surprised to see me by your side.”
Anne did not know what to say. One moment she was conversing with Ernest and her mother, and the next she turned to pick up her teacup to discover Monty at her elbow. To say she was alarmed would have been understating her emotions.
“Surely.” He continued as he passed her the cup. “You did not expect me to be found elsewhere?”
“I am not entirely certain what to think, Monty.” Anne tried her best to steady her nerves and voice. She looked into his face but could not discern what he was up to therein.
“My only desire, dear Anne…” He lowered his voice so that only they two could hear. “…is to be of whatever service I can to you.”
Anne involuntarily clenched her jaw. “And why, pray, would you wish to do that?” She drank from her cup to avoid looking into his eyes.
“For certain, that is no mystery to you.” He feigned shock at her words.
“Quite frankly, I cannot guess at your meaning.” Anne did not wish to play games, but neither did she wish to let Monty know she understood him perfectly.
Anne was relieved when her mother interjected. “What are you two whispering about? I must have my part.” Lady Catherine’s eyes glistened and Anne groaned inwardly. Had her mother assumed they were having a lovers’ tête-à-tête? If her mother observed them and concluded thusly, then, for certain, others would, too.
The afternoon dragged on into evening and Anne yearned to get dinner over with and retire early. She stood and asked her mother to excuse her so she could dress for dinner. Lady Catherine joined her and the pair climbed the stairs in silence. At the top of the grand staircase, Lady Catherine turned to the right to go to her rooms and Anne to the left, and Anne’s blood ran cold at her mother’s words. “All is going according to my plan, Anne. Very well, indeed.”
* * *
Anne walked as calmly to her room as she possibly could, closed the door, leant against the bedpost, and wept. It seemed her path was inevitable and no matter what she wished or did, she was to be married off to Monty. The thought occurred to her that she should pretend illness that evening and not go down to dinner, when she heard the door click behind her. It would not do to let the servants see or hear her weeping. She quickly dried her face and took a deep breath. She turned to smile at her maid; however, it was not her, but Monty.
“What is the meaning of this? How dare you intrude into my private rooms?” Anne felt she bellowed out the words, but in truth, her voice squeaked with fear.
“My dear Anne.” He crossed the space between them in two strides. “Please, forgive my impertinence. I know you do. How could you not when there is so much between us?” He leant towards her. “But I had to see you. We have not had any time at all alone together this day.”
“We have had as much time together as I wish, Monty,” she protested.
“Oh, you are too modest.”
“And what do you mean by saying there is much between us? I am unaware of anything between us.” Anne was scared now and looked behind her to see if Miss Yates, her lady’s maid, had arrived.
“Oh, do not fret yourself about your maid. I paid her to delay attending you.” His grin made her skin crawl.
“You did what?” Now she began to panic and moved backwards, away from him.
“Do not be shy, my love. You know that we have both been yearning for some intimacy ever since our trip to Westerham.” He closed the gap between them and took her hand in his before she knew it.
“Unhand me this instant!”
“Or what?”
Anne did not know if he was teasing her or threatening her, but either way, she was scared of what he could and would do. “Or I will scream.”
Monty threw back his head and laughed heartily at her. “Will you indeed? I don’t think you will.” He pulled her cl
oser to him.
Anne could feel the heat from his body and his breath on her face.
His eyes traced the lines of her face. “If you were so foolish as to scream, I would silence you.”
Anne frowned. “How?”
“Anne, you naïve little thing. With a kiss, of course!”
“And I would run and tell my mother immediately of the liberty.”
Again, he laughed mockingly at her. “Pray, who would believe you?”
Anne looked at him in puzzlement.
“Everyone here believes that you and I have an understanding, Anne. Many a young man in love steals a kiss from his intended.”
“I am not your intended.”
“Are you not?” He waggled his eyebrow at her.
“No.” She stuck her chin out in defiance.
“We shall have to see about that.” Before she could react, Monty slipped his hands about her waist and pulled her so tightly against him that she was trapped. Her breath was pushed out of her in one gasp as his mouth came crashing down upon hers. Anne struggled in vain against his embrace, but it was for nought. He was much stronger than she was, and she could not break free.
Anne disliked being kissed by him. His mouth was hot, very wet, and tasted of cigars. His tongue insistently probed at her lips, but she kept her mouth firmly clamped shut. She would not allow him to kiss her like that. She did not wish to be kissed the way she had seen the servants do after a skinfull of ale at the Midsummer dance.
Monty was obviously not satisfied. He pulled away and growled at her, his voice husky with passion. “Kiss me, damn it, Anne.”
“I will not.”
Monty spun Anne around and held her back tight against his body. She felt his arousal and it scared her. She thought again of screaming, but what he did next drew away all of her attention. Monty started kissing her neck and nipping at the skin with his teeth. Anne did not know what to make of this new sensation. She was beginning to hate him, but her body betrayed her and yearned for him to continue his ministrations. He cupped her breasts through her dress and squeezed at her nipples. Unwittingly, Anne groaned with pleasure and Monty grasped her tighter and intensified his assault on her senses. She felt him move his hand lower, across her abdomen, and grasp her between the thighs. The shock was both surprisingly pleasurable and sharp enough to bring her to her senses.
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