Chapter Seventeen
Winter yielded to spring, and the orchards across the hills above Naples burst into fragrant seas of blossoms. Anne did dutiful sketches of the changing landscape and sent them to her mother, although she knew her limited talents were no match for the beauty. If only she could capture the delicious aroma! The apple orchards back home could offer no comparison to the citrus and jasmine scents floating on the warming spring air.
Under Dr. Minton’s careful supervision, Anne and her companions expanded their travels beyond Naples. They journeyed to Pompeii to view the excavations of the lost city alongside other awed visitors. Anne traced a few sketches to complete later and send to Colonel Fitzwilliam. They visited captivating towns along the coast, where they gazed in wonder at the enchanting beauty, which seemed like something from a fairy tale. At one small seaside village, they watched fishermen bring in their catch. One playful man held out to the ladies a wriggling animal made up of nothing but legs, and their startled shrieks made the other fishermen laugh. Dr. Minton blasted the men with his outrage, which only made them laugh harder. Anne understood that this sea creature would be someone’s dinner that night. Had she eaten one of them and not realized it? She blanched at the thought.
Anne treasured these weeks of her stay. She traveled to places she had never imagined and saw a parade of vistas too beautiful to describe. She ate exotic fruits and marveled that even the simplest ingredients could be turned into feasts that put the best of England to shame. How she loved this place, with its vibrant colors and exuberant people. She hoped that a little of their energy would come home with her. With all due respect for her physician’s efforts, this place was the real tonic bringing her to life.
In its turn, Lent gave way to Easter, and all the celebrations in Naples were a source of great interest to Anne. For her, in their quiet corner of Kent, Easter represented church services and dinners with friends. Here, it meant parades and special meals and boisterous traditions hundreds of years old. Signora Abelli arranged for a traditional Neapolitan feast for her English guests, including a roasted lamb, cheese-stuffed bread, and delectable custard pies. Anne hoped Mrs. Ross would be able to reproduce these. Or, better yet, she hoped they could all come back next year. She would have Dr. Minton look into the possibility of reserving this villa for next winter. Once her mother saw how much she had improved after her time abroad, surely she would be allowed to return every year.
With the warming weather, Anne took to having her bedroom windows open in the evening. At Rosings, she never had her bedroom windows open. They stayed closed to protect her from the cold of winter and the heat of summer. But here, in this magical place, even the air contributed to her wellbeing.
One night, however, the open windows gave Anne more knowledge than she wished for. On a still, moonless evening, the sound of hushed laughter drifted up from the garden. At first Anne suspected two house servants were savoring the beautiful darkness, but then a familiar girlish giggle was followed by a man’s attempt to hush her. Anne knew that giggle well. She had heard it a thousand times before, but not with such a cozy and flirtatious tone. The giggle belonged to Dolly.
Remembering Harriet’s accusations about Dr. Minton and her servant, Anne got out of bed and went to the window. Embarrassed to be spying on her own maid, she nonetheless looked out into the garden below to see if she could spot the pair and confirm Harriet’s story. But she must have been visible in the window, because she heard the hushed figures move away in the darkness. Only faint outlines revealed the two, and Anne had no way to confirm who they were.
The next morning, as a cheerful Dolly helped Anne dress, Anne felt she must say something. She began with a general statement about how, being guests in a foreign land, they should always be on their best behavior and exercise discretion at all times. The girl needed no further explanation and turned as red as a rose. She muttered her complete agreement and said she would make sure to behave in a way to make her mistress proud. Embarrassed by Dolly’s mortification, Anne gave her permission to depart, and the girl fled the room.
The incident lingered with Anne. Dr. Minton attended to her that day in his usual solicitous manner. Dolly surely would have shared her humiliation with her suitor. If the physician had been Dolly’s companion, he gave no indication as he chatted over breakfast and offered plans for the day. Dr. Minton could not harbor a guilty conscience, Anne decided, because he would betray some regret or upset. Instead, he maintained his usual cordial concern with no hint of discomfiture. She concluded Dolly’s partner in mischief must be someone else.
This brought Anne small relief. She dwelled on her doubts—and guilt over her doubts—with such a gloom that it roused Harriet’s curiosity. After she coaxed the story out of Anne, complete with Anne’s baffled admission that she did not understand why this upset her so, Harriet laughed. “It is because you are jealous!”
Anne disparaged the idea. How could she be jealous of her maid, especially when she had no idea who the man could be?
“You don’t need a claim on a man to be jealous,” Harriet said. “La, it is the most nonsensical of emotions. You are jealous that your maid has found someone and you have not. I was once jealous of our family’s younger maid because she had found a sweet companion and I had none. I had no claim on her man, and certainly no designs to make one. I merely envied her good fortune. Same for you, Anne. To be jealous of another’s happiness when you are alone is the most natural thing in the world. It means your heart is alive.” Harriet thought for a moment, then decided to proceed. “Anne, you have never been in love. That is why you accepted your Mr. Darcy’s departure with so little pain. I know you did not love him. You have never mentioned him once since you told me the story about his marrying that other girl. If you had had any emotions for him at all, you would have sopped my ears with a hundred tender recollections, and you would have gone on about how miserable life is, and how sad it was to be in so romantic a place without him.”
Stunned, Anne had no reply. She accepted that Darcy had never loved her, but she must have felt something for him. Harriet had to be wrong, but she would need time to think about how to counter her statement.
Harriet needed no time to reflect. “Oh, Anne, Italy is the best place to start out with love! La, so many handsome men, and so far from the wagging tongues at home! Of course, I know you. You would never do anything worthy of gossip. But while you are here, why not think about trying out a flirtation? I can introduce you to so many handsome fellows!”
As Harriet began a list of the officers stationed at the ambassador’s headquarters and their finest attributes, Anne let her friend wax long on her favorite subject without listening to her. Could it be true that she had never been in love? Had she never loved Darcy? She must have, and Harriet must be wrong.
Italy was indeed a romantic place. If Mrs. Jenkinson could be correct that Dr. Minton had developed a strong affection for her, Naples might be the reason why. …Could she find in herself the courage to attempt a flirtation? She had toyed with the idea when it had only been a tantalizing, abstract notion. Now, kind-hearted Harriet might turn it into an all-too-real possibility. As frightening as a flirtation sounded, part of her thrilled at the thought. Surely someone in the English community here would be of a suitable rank. Then her heart sank as she thought of her mother’s expecting her conduct to be always above reproach. Anne would never dream of embarrassing her by forgetting her station. Then, once again, she wondered why anyone would want to have a flirtation with her. She chose not to dwell on that. Perhaps the magic of Naples would find a way to make even her worthy of affection.
Expectations: The Transformation of Miss Anne de Bourgh (Pride and Prejudice Continued), Volume 1 Page 21
