Chapter Eleven
Anne’s excitement at having her way ebbed as the weeks passed. Her mother’s insistence on arranging everything meant that, once again, Anne became relegated to the role of passive observer. But she could still find satisfaction in knowing that in early January she would be leaving behind all of this cold and gloom.
Lady Catherine coordinated an expedition worthy of Captain Cook. No less than twelve house servants, Mrs. Jenkinson, Dr. Minton, plus suitable companions would make up the traveling party. The Fairfax sisters were eager for the scheme, and their father consulted with Lady Catherine, in the form of listening to her and commending her detailed plans, before agreeing that his girls could go, despite his wife’s repeated protestations. Their own maids would add only three more to the company.
Anne allowed her mother to do everything, although she objected to Lady Catherine’s insistence on funding the project. The mother said it could hardly be a birthday gift if Anne paid for it herself, but the daughter stated that being allowed to go was the present she requested. After much wrangling, Lady Catherine won, as always.
Anne’s birthday supper three weeks before Christmas included the usual neighbors of rank, including the Fairfax family. In such vaunted company, Emily and Frances needed all their strength to contain their exuberance, although an occasional giggle escaped the younger girl. Sir Robert beamed with pride for his intrepid daughters, but the increasingly sullen Lady Fairfax did not shy away from pouting in company at the prospect of her girls being so far away from her watchful care. During the evening, she barely spoke to Anne and glowered at her bubbly daughters.
Meanwhile, Lady Catherine’s assiduous efforts to publicize the presence of Dr. Minton had born sweet fruit. Neighbors near and far came to pay court to the grand lady and speak with her private physician. She basked in the glow of his popularity as he charmed the neighbors, doling out advice both simple and efficacious. By Christmas week, Lady Catherine found herself hailed by the people who mattered as the greatest woman in Kent. She could not agree more.
Despite being at Lady Catherine’s beck and call for every visitor, Dr. Minton always found time each day to spend with Anne. He monitored her condition and gave her every encouragement. When she apologized for making him a part of her argument against her mother, he laughed and complimented her on her masterful stroke of logic. Anne could not believe that she would spend nearly six months being tended to by this most gracious and charming of gentlemen.
Molded by the strong hand of her ladyship, the plans took a final, pleasing shape. By a happy chance the assistant ambassador to the King of Naples was a cousin of a friend of Lady Catherine’s brother, so she approved Naples as the destination. Lady Catherine tried to arrange for the earl’s second son, Colonel Fitzwilliam, to accompany the party during his winter leave from the army, but his early spring deadline to report for duty obliged him to decline. While he offered his regrets at missing his cousin’s adventure, he did send to Anne his father’s book about the Grand Tour sites in the Italian states. All her uncle’s notes about his favorite locales made her anticipation keener, and her fears sharper. The earl had written the notes for his sons, who had not been able to follow in his path after hostilities with France closed the continent to English travelers. How odd for her to be the beneficiary of the earl’s insights instead of his own children. She could only think about how tenuous hopes for the future could be.
As the Christmas festivities approached, a decidedly sullen mood settled over Rosings. Lady Catherine at last recognized that she would be losing both her daughter and her star attraction, Dr. Minton, for nearly six months. For her own part, Anne became more alarmed at the promised rigors of such a long trip. In the last twenty years, she had never even traveled to London—how would she make it all the way to Naples and back? She consulted with Dr. Minton about the ease of booking passage on a merchant ship going to Naples directly instead of taking the overland route. He strongly favored the idea, but Lady Catherine said no. She declared that taking a ship was more dangerous, being subject to the vagaries of weather, misfortune, and brigands, and in addition it allowed no option for curtailing the journey if travel proved too taxing. She insisted that the Rosings expeditionary forces take the overland route which, while more arduous, gave every opportunity for Anne to change her mind and return home.
Anne’s only refuge during this time was the last dance lessons at Fairfax House. She had learned six dances by heart and was in the process of learning eight more. During her first classes, she could just make it through two sets in total, but by Christmas she could complete four, provided she had suitable rests in between. Dr. Minton attended the lessons and observed his patient’s efforts, praising her progress but discouraging too much exertion. Anne blushed at his kind consideration. She had no time to attempt pianoforte lessons with Madame Saint-Vancomy, so she vowed to pursue lessons with a local master once she established herself in Naples. Emily and Frances Fairfax were elated with all the preparations and for their own part had many new dresses to show Anne for their stay abroad.
On Christmas night, shivering in her bed and listening to the freezing rain tap at her window, Anne thrilled at the notion that she would be warm in only a month’s time. In addition, she would have Dr. Minton’s complete attention, with no interruptions by insistent neighbors. She found that prospect almost as appealing as the winter sun and warmth. No man had ever demonstrated any sort of interest in her, including her cousin Darcy, and even though Dr. Minton was not of the proper class, his courtesy and genuine care for her welfare were almost intoxicating. Could this strange, uncertain feeling be what it was like to be in love?
Lady Catherine’s efforts to maintain her composure and her control of her daughter’s excursion took its toll by the end of the year. Alternately fretting about the multiplying details and releasing her frustrations by scolding the servants at every turn, she succeeded in making herself and everyone around her miserable. All the arrangements seemed fine to Anne, but her mother could not be satisfied. Anne wrote letter after letter to Elizabeth Darcy, detailing the agony, but no response could be expected with Lady Catherine’s presence in the house.
Anne’s own quiet, growing desperation added to the gloom. Looking at her situation from the other side of thirty, she faced the realization that, despite the pronouncement of the London specialists years ago, she would not “outgrow” this constitutional weakness. In her heart she had clung to the hope that someday she would simply get better somehow. All her suffering would have been worth it on that glorious day when she would be well.
But now that she was on the downslide of life, she could no longer believe that a miraculous recovery lay ahead. Despite being able to dance four dances in the course of an afternoon, she would never be truly “well,” and at her age her condition would soon decline. Her sole hope rested in doing something—anything—to give herself a little time to fend off the inevitable. Her mother’s solution had been to provide a personal physician. Anne knew she needed more. Every hope was now attached to this winter in Italy. It could no longer be considered a mere pleasant diversion—it was a matter of saving her life. Clinging to that anticipation gave her the strength to withstand the daily onslaught of her mother’s doubts. Naples would be her salvation. She had to go.
Expectations: The Transformation of Miss Anne de Bourgh (Pride and Prejudice Continued), Volume 1 Page 13
