Chapter Two
Anne shivered as she looked out the window of her bedroom, which overlooked the rain-soaked park behind the house. The approaching winter gave every indication that it would be long, cold, and wet. She picked up the letter from her cousin Elizabeth that had arrived in the morning post. She had already read it three times. After Darcy married Elizabeth, the former Miss Bennet had written to Anne, expressing her concern over causing her anguish at the loss of her betrothed. Anne had been astonished by the thoughtful gesture, and when she shared the letter with her mother, Lady Catherine had flown into a rage even as great as the one she unleashed on the world after Darcy announced his engagement. The lady snatched the letter from her startled daughter’s hands and threw it into the breakfast room’s fireplace. Later, in private, Anne wrote a reply to Elizabeth, thanking her for her kindness. But she included a warning not to write when Lady Catherine was at home, lest she spot the letter, and she added a promise to send Elizabeth word of her mother’s absences.
Anne had been a faithful correspondent with her new cousin, writing to Elizabeth nearly every week. She posted her letters in the town of Westerham instead of the closer Hunsford village, as their local postmaster felt a deep, personal responsibility to provide intelligence of all parish goings-on to Lady Catherine via the rector, the Reverend William Collins. Anne felt ashamed about her clandestine correspondence with a woman whose very name could not be mentioned at Rosings, but she was more forgiving than her mother, and Anne had gained great solace from writing to Elizabeth and the necessarily less frequent replies.
In truth, Anne had always been fond of Elizabeth, and even at first a little intimidated by her. When they met, long before anyone knew how much Darcy admired Miss Bennet, Anne had felt so unequal to the lively and confident visitor that she did not even dare speak to her unless necessity demanded it. A mere eleven evenings spent at dinner or in a sitting room at Rosings, all of which were of course dominated by her mother’s conversation, offered Anne only a slender knowledge of the friend of Mrs. Collins, the rector’s wife. Once Elizabeth opened the door to friendship, however, Anne found her former rival to be as pleasant and companionable as she could have hoped. Elizabeth’s letters were a treasured glimpse of the wider world described by the inhabitant of a joy-filled home. The woman Anne had come to know through her rich but infrequent letters had become a trusted, if secret, friend.
Elizabeth’s most recent letter had been written over the course of several weeks, as so many were while she waited to receive news from Anne that it was safe to send them. This latest related the happenings at Pemberley, the success of the harvest and how many fish her uncle had caught during his last visit. Elizabeth had also included a fine pair of gloves she had embroidered for Anne’s birthday. Anne found her work meticulous, even though Elizabeth apologized for several mistakes that Anne could not find. Anne wished she could show them to her mother, but she would have to hide them or lie about their source. She hated being dishonest with her mother, despite its being for the good of all. How dreadful would be the reckoning if she were caught! She would do her utmost to avoid such a calamity, for all their sakes.
The letter also contained a long section encouraging Anne to go out more. The best of the world could not always come to Rosings, Elizabeth wrote, so it would be up to Anne to go out and experience some of it. She could begin with small steps, such as going to Westerham on her own, or trying out some art she had never studied before.
Elizabeth’s suggestions weighed on Anne’s thoughts. With her health seemingly in decline, and her birthday rapidly approaching, Anne could not ignore the feeling that her life had begun slipping away from her. What if she did follow her father’s example? Viewing her life from an early deathbed, she would see nothing but regrets at missed opportunities. But if she did try to expand her life, just a little, where could she start? How could she know what would be right, and what would be safe enough to try? Normally she would consult with her mother, but in her heart she knew her mother would not approve. Of course, Lady Catherine had never told her she should not attempt new things, but neither had she encouraged her. That could only mean that her mother did not approve…or did it? It was all so vexing and stultifying.
A knock on the door sent Anne into a panic as she hid Elizabeth’s letter. If one of the maids saw it, she could not be counted on to keep it a secret from her mother. She bade the person enter, and a maid announced that she had visitors. Anne glanced out the window at the rain. Who would travel in such miserable weather? The maid answered that her guests were the Fairfax sisters, who were in the winter sitting room. Elated to hear of her friends’ arrival, Anne threw on a second shawl and headed downstairs.
The Fairfax sisters, Emily and Frances, were the daughters of the de Bourghs’ nearest neighbors and Lady Catherine’s closest friend. A few years younger than Lady Catherine, Lady Fairfax was simple enough to arouse no jealousy and clever enough to know when not to speak her mind. Lady Catherine also approved of the girls, who were more energetic than pretty and who both presented an abundance of good sense around their elders. During the lady’s absences, however, the lively girls acted younger than their ages of twenty and eighteen. Good-natured and fond of laughter, they were welcome companions for their quiet friend.
The pair exchanged greetings with Anne and were quick to answer her question of why they would travel on such a gloomy day. “Oh, Anne,” said Emily, “we have had the most splendid morning. Papa hired for us the most wonderful dancing master!”
Frances interrupted before her sister could continue. “He knows everything, Anne! Every dance! Every gesture! Every courtesy! He is a hundred times better than the masters we have had before. Oh, by the start of the season we shall know everything!”
Miss Fairfax continued, “Monsieur taught at Versailles.”
Frances clarified, “He did not teach the king or his children, but he was the dancing instructor for some of the very best families at court.”
Emily added, “And Monsieur is a most amiable man, and his wife teaches singing—”
“—Although,” Frances interrupted with energy, “we are not supposed to mention that Madame is his wife, because dancing masters are not supposed to be married, so silly women can flirt with them.”
“Not that Monsieur is young,” the elder sister added with a frown of disbelief. “I do not know who would want to flirt with him.”
Frances concluded, “And we wanted to invite you to come tomorrow to attend our lesson. It will be such fun.”
The dizzying explosion of conversation over, Anne pondered their offer. Dancing lessons! She had been especially sick at the age when she should have started with a master. After two years of not having the strength to try, Anne had felt no small relief when Lady Catherine quietly dropped the notion. Of course, Anne was too old now and still too ill to dance, but how she would enjoy watching her friends have a lesson, especially from such a distinguished teacher. She accepted their offer, and they told her when to arrive. Anne invited them to stay for tea, but they wanted to hurry home before the roads became too muddy.
Expectations: The Transformation of Miss Anne de Bourgh (Pride and Prejudice Continued), Volume 1 Page 2
