Anne's Adversity Read online

  Now she had her mother’s full attention. Anne felt her piercing eyes examining her, trying to expose her secret. Though Mother’s demeanor never changed, Anne saw the veins popping out on her forehead from across the table— a sure sign of disapproval.

  In a low voice, Mother asked, “What did you find?” Her left eye twitched.

  “A letter from father. It was dated after I was born. Did he know about me?” Anne’s voice came out as a squeak as emotion overwhelmed her. Keep calm. Collect yourself. She breathed five times and focused on her mother’s pulsing temple and twitching eye.

  For a fleeting moment, Anne saw worry in Mother’s face, but she quickly covered it with stubborn denial. Then, a protective layer of ice covered her countenance and she sat more rigid than normal in her chair. Maybe Anne had only imagined the worry.

  In a cold monotone, Mother said, “The letter must be from someone else. You father could not possibly have written anything postmortem. You must have dreamed it up after reading one of those horrid novels you hide from me.” She stared at Anne so intensely, Anne felt herself shrivel from across the table. Then, Mother reached for her bell to call the servants back in.

  Anne felt blood rush to her head in her desperation. There was no time for calming breaths. She had asked Mother a simple question and she was refusing to answer.

  “Does Father know I exist? Is he still alive?” The words came out stronger than her normal murmur. She was so used to being talked over, her voice sounded too loud when she spoke at a normal volume.

  Mother pursed her lips and stared at Anne. It felt like forever before she finally said, “You are out of sorts tonight, Anne. I think it best for you to take some tea in your room.”

  Her condescending air frustrated Anne. She would not be so easily dismissed. She would not budge. She was determined to get an answer.

  “Why will you not acknowledge that the letter exists? Why will you not tell me if Father still lives? Is it that difficult?” She felt like slamming her fist on top of the table, but contented herself by picking at her solitary thumb nail. Even when she ripped the nail off and felt the sting of exposed flesh, she did not take her eyes of Mother.

  It was a battle of wills that ended when Mother rang the little bell.

  A servant scurried in, his face void of all expression.

  “Inform the cook that Miss Anne has taken ill. She requires a tea tray to be sent to her room with her usual fare.”

  The servant bowed and hurried off to carry out his orders.

  “You will go upstairs. After some nourishment and some rest, you will come to your senses.” She folded her napkin and placed it on the table, signaling the end of dinner.

  Powerless, Anne stood. Nothing she could say would make Mother listen to her. Any hope Anne had of getting some answers about her father disappeared like smoke up a chimney.

  Anne crossed the room. When she reached the doorway, Mother called after her, “You must look your best for tomorrow. Fitzwilliam is coming to propose. Richard will be here too. I expect you will not suffer any more outbursts during their stay.”

  Clenching her hands and her jaw, Anne said, “You need not worry about me. I bid you a good evening.” The words were polite, but the thoughts running through her mind were as contrary as her mother. Her blatant refusal to talk about Father only increased Anne’s hope that he might still be alive.

  When she entered her room, Nancy was waiting with a hairbrush in her hand. She motioned for Anne to sit on the padded, velvet stool in front of her vanity mirror.

  Anne did not say anything for quite a while. The rhythmic brushing melted her anxiety away and she soon relaxed.

  “How did it go, Miss?”

  “I know nothing now that I did not know before. Mother would not even admit that such a letter exists. She denied everything.” Anne sighed in disappointment.

  “Maybe Her Ladyship did not wish to speak of such an intimate subject in front of the servants.”

  The servants’ job was to perform their duties unseen and they did such a good job of it, their presence had almost slipped Anne’s mind. “I remembered to dismiss them. It was only her and I in the room. She was more concerned with William and Richard’s arrival in the morning than anything I had to say.”

  She slumped into her seat at the mention of her cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Both he and Richard, a colonel in His Majesty’s Army, were her favorite cousins. But, while William had provided some diversion when they were children, she did not want to marry him. She did not love him and, what was worse, she had nothing to recommend her to him as a good wife. She would only bring embarrassment to the Darcys’ family name and they would grow to despise her. Anne preferred their relationship to stay as it was— amiable and distant.

  “I cannot marry him, Nancy.”

  Nancy said nothing for a while, just continued to brush Anne’s wispy, reddish-brown locks.

  “I will see Mum tomorrow. I think I will ask if she knows anything about your father. She was your wet nurse and nursemaid and was in Her Ladyship’s employ when it was supposed that Sir Lewis died. Maybe she noticed something amiss.”

  “You must not reveal what you know, not even to your mother,” said Anne, worried how quickly news like this could spread should it be made known. News of Sir Lewis brought back from the dead would create a scandal their family would never recover from and Mother would forever remember who had revealed it. The de Bourghs would be shunned, as would anyone in association with them.

  Nancy placed both hands on Anne’s shoulders. “You can count on my utmost discretion.”

  Anne sat straighter and looked at Nancy’s reflection in the mirror. “Thank you,” she said, feeling that those simple words did not express the gratitude she felt sufficiently.

  “Let me worry about the letter, please, Miss. Your biggest concern as of tomorrow is Mr. Darcy… and your mother. Whatever you decide, Miss Anne, I support you. It is not much, I know, but all I want is for you to be happy. It pains me, just as it pained my mum, to see you so unhappy and restless.”

  “What would I do without you, Nancy? You are more a sister to me than a maid. I only wish I could do more for you and your family.” Though they were close in age, that was where their similarities ended. Nancy was strong in disposition and constitution. Anne was not. Nancy had a healthy touch of sun to her skin and Anne was pasty white. Nancy was openly kind and generous with her friends and family. Anne had to hide her kindness or risk a scolding. Nancy acted like the grown woman she was, making decisions and expressing her opinions when appropriate. Anne did not even know what her favorite color was. Nancy had many skills and enjoyed a respectable level of confidence in her capabilities. Anne knew how to draw and… well, Anne knew how to draw. She had drawn a portrait of Nancy’s youngest brother as a keepsake for his family when he had taken a position as a stable boy near the coast. Only the friendship she had with Nancy’s family gave her the nerve to present it as a gift. Otherwise, she kept her drawings safe from the scrutiny of everyone.

  Their eyes met in the mirror to smile at each other in mutual appreciation. How Anne wished she could be as strong as her friend. Anne fell silent as she considered what a braver version of herself would do. Looking toward the couch, where Father’s letter was still tucked under the cushions, Anne concluded that she was no longer content to spend her days lying about on a sickbed.

  The hair brushing complete, Anne stood with renewed resolve. If she could only act as she had imagined, she just might be allowed to make one choice in her life.

  “I need a plan if I am to succeed. If Father is alive, I want to meet him. I do not wish to marry William and must convince him and Mother to allow me some freedom.” It hit Anne like a thunderbolt; she knew precisely what to call what she wanted. Freedom. It was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. With freedom came responsibility. Anne had relied on others her whole life.

  “All right, Miss. How do you suppose we begin?”

  It
comforted Anne to have Nancy include herself in her plans. If left on her own, Anne was certain she would fail miserably— like she had with every other endeavor Mother had pushed her to excel in.

  That would be the greatest challenge. Anne had no idea how to convince Mother to loosen her hold. But she had all night to think it over. She would think of something. She had to.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Anne woke to sunshine pouring through her open windows. Nancy bustled about the room and Anne lingered in her warm, comfortable bed. She savored the peaceful time of the morning, especially since she suspected they would be her last for the remainder of the day. William may already have arrived.

  “You had better close the windows and drapes before Mother sees, Nancy.”

  “Her Ladyship is not yet awake. You can have a few more minutes of fresh air. It is a beautiful day, Miss Anne.” Nancy leaned into the window and took a deep breath.

  Anne slipped out of bed to stand in front of the window. The doctor had warned her of the dangers of poisonous air, but as Anne closed her eyes to take in the scent of a new spring day, she found that she could not agree with his warning. Nancy’s mother, Nurse Callaghan, had also defied Mother’s orders that Anne be protected from fresh air by opening the curtains and windows when she was a little girl. Her own children, of whom she had seven, were stout and strong because they spent most of the day out of doors. How could the sweet perfume of new blossoms make anyone sick? Certainly, Anne thought, they were an improvement to the treatments and tonics the doctor and her mother insisted she take. She looked at the tray of medicine on the table next to her bed and instantly felt queasy.

  “You should eat. Perhaps it will go down easier.”

  Anne turned to look at Nancy. “I remember how Nurse Callaghan would sneak me away to play in the orchard with you and your brothers. She would give me a spoon of honey and it tasted like heaven.” She looked at the medicine bottles. “I would gladly take my medicine if I thought it did any good.”

  Nancy plopped her hands on her hips. “Mother said it and I agree. What you need, Miss Anne, is something to occupy yourself with instead of laying around and taking this poison.”

  “I should like to learn how to do things but, up to now, I always fail. Mother says I lack stamina.” Since Anne could remember, she was always fatigued.

  “Nonsense. Just because something does not turn out perfectly at the first go does not make you a failure. You should have seen my first embroidery stitches. I made more knots than anything, but now I do most of the embroidery on your fancy gowns and I take great pride in my work. It was not always so. I will not speak against Her Ladyship, but I cannot agree with her. She should have encouraged you more instead of letting you give up so easily.” Nancy’s color was up and she waved her hands in frustration.

  Anne crossed the room to the couch and pulled out Father’s letter from behind the cushions. “This is my chance to change. I am not sure how, but I feel it.”

  “So long as you do not get yourself banished from your own home. I would not put it past Her Ladyship to react severely.”

  “Mother may be harsh sometimes, but she would not cast her own daughter out of her home… I think.” Anne could not imagine a world without her home, Rosings. It was the only place she knew, not having had the opportunity to travel much. If she had to be trapped anywhere, she was glad it was such a place as Rosings.

  Nancy closed the window and curtains and helped ready Anne for her day, requesting breakfast in her room and laying out her clothes. Darcy and Richard had arrived and had been shown to their guest rooms. Darcy was efficient, so Anne expected him to request an audience before long.

  Her morning routine done, Anne sat on her divan by the door to collect her thoughts and prepare for her meeting with Darcy. She folded her feet up under her skirt and opened her sketchbook until Darcy sent his request to meet her in the front parlor.

  Not wishing to depart with Father’s letter, she gently folded it and put it inside her pocket. Maybe it would help her be braver. She needed all the help she could get.

  Moments later, Anne entered the front parlor. Darcy was waiting for her.

  He was a handsome man and quite tall. He did not look dwarfed next to the over-sized furniture in the room. He would make an admirable husband— for somebody else.

  They had hardly exchanged proper greetings when Anne blurted, “I cannot marry you, William.”

  Anne’s heart raced and she felt light-headed. I think I will be sick.

  When she realized she was patting her pocket, she took courage. It would change things. She could not weaken now.

  Darcy looked at her like he had not heard clearly.

  Clearing her throat, Anne stood taller and repeated, “I will not marry you, William.”

  That he understood.

  “What about your security, Anne? If you will not have me, what do you intend to do?” He looked concerned and Anne took pity on him. She knew that Darcy could have his pick of eligible ladies, but his desire to honor the arranged marriage their mothers had made prevented him from doing so. It made her sad to disappoint him, but there was no other way.

  “I wonder why you would marry me when Mother has given you every indication that I would be a pitiful wife. The only accomplishment I have is the ability to catch every illness that passes through Kent. What confidence do you have that I am capable of giving you an heir? Pardon me, cousin, for speaking of such a delicate subject, but you know it to be true. I would only disappoint you.” Anne hoped she could appeal to Darcy’s logic, but he looked so confused and she felt so inadequate.

  Darcy relaxed his crossed arms and really looked at her. “You are determined, Anne? Is there nothing that would make you change your mind?”

  Anne was grateful for his consideration. She was not accustomed to being asked about her thoughts. “I am determined, Darcy. I thank you for your concern for my welfare and I hope you fall in love with a good lady who will deserve your loyalty more than I can.” The words came from her heart and she felt happy to say them.

  There was silence in the room and Anne searched Darcy’s face for any sign of hurt. He, too, stood looking at her but his expression, as usual, was difficult to read.

  Finally he nodded and dismissed himself.

  Anne’s fingers were like ice and her stomach was a ball of nerves. She turned to the window so she might warm up from the sun shining in.

  Before he could reach the door, Anne heard it open and then the solid footsteps of her Mother as she entered the room.

  “Are you leaving so soon, Darcy? I had thought to find you making arrangements with Anne.” Mother’s gaze soon shifted from her favorite nephew to Anne.

  Anne opened her mouth to speak, but she saw her cousin, Richard, enter the room. Dressed in his red uniform, he was a dashing figure. But Anne knew he would say something unfortunate. He looked much too happy and tended to speak before considering.

  “Darcy, let me be the first to congratulate you,” Richard stepped toward Darcy to shake hands.

  The tension in the room caught up with Richard as all three faces turned to glare at him.

  “I apologize. I fear I have spoken too soon.” He shuffled his feet and looked quizzically at Darcy.

  No one spoke or acknowledged his apology. Anne felt her mother’s attention focus back on her— and with it, the full force of her anger.

  Mother’s presence filled the room and her voice echoed off the walls as she demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

  Be brave. Be strong.

  Clutching the letter in her pocket, Anne pretended Father was holding her hand; offering his support. She stood firmly in place and spoke as clearly as she dared. “I released Darcy from our engagement, Mother.”

  “You foolish child. Would you cast off a promise made and sealed with the death of my sister as if it were of little consequence?”

  Taking a steadying breath, Anne said, “I honor the memory of my Aunt Anne
and I do not take your promises lightly either, Mother. However, this concerns my future and I feel that only I should choose what makes me happy. Please, Mother, let me make this one choice.”

  “Your impertinence is not appreciated, Anne. You have no experience in life and lack the wisdom to make such decisions,” Mother said in her condescending tone.

  It angered Anne to be scolded like a child. She was a woman of twenty-seven! “Perhaps I lack wisdom because I have never been given a chance to live.” Anne’s eyes teared up in emotion, but her decisiveness never wavered.

  “You have become quite stubborn and dramatic of late, Anne, and I am going to get to the bottom of it. This disrespect for your superiors is unacceptable. This will not do.” Dropping her voice to a hiss, Mother said, “Do not forget that I can change my will on a whim. If you refuse to marry Darcy, I will disinherit you. I can cast you off without a penny to your name.” She enunciated each syllable. So intent was her focus, she did not even blink.

  Anger crowded out Anne’s disbelief at her mother’s threat. She forgot the presence of her cousins in the room.

  “You are in no position to do so, Mother, and you know it.” Anne pulled out Father’s letter and waved it in front of her, then quickly put it back in her pocket lest Mother should grab it away from her.

  Anne had seen Mother upset many times before, but she was unprepared for the horrified expression she saw. This was so much worse than their discussion at dinner the evening before.

  Mother must have remembered the presence of her two nephews then, for she spun on her heels. “You two. Out! Out, now!” she demanded as she ushered them out of the room, the door banging behind them. Anne wanted to beg them to stay, but knew Mother would never discuss family affairs with witnesses in the room.

  Mother could no longer deny such a letter from Father existed. Her secret was discovered and Anne braced herself for the consequences. She prayed that, at least, she might get some answers— though the cost be great.