by Jennifer Joy
Chapter 4
London
Luc Mauvier shook his head and pretended not to hear the conversation on the other side of his front room. He wondered if his younger sister, Adélaïde, would change her normal recital or if she would go with the original piece. It was impossible to focus on the newspaper in front of him with such entertainment happening on the other side of the fireplace.
“I am sincerely flattered at your offer, Mr. Greyson. Really, I am. However, it is not my intention to marry. I have a successful dressmaking business to run and my young women depend on me to give them work and stability as they get back on their feet. Surely you can see how I could not abandon them. I thank you for your understanding.” Her tone was firm, but kind.
The normal recital it is. What amazed Luc the most was why gentlemen kept trying. It was only March and this was the second proposal of marriage Adélaïde had refused that year. He did not blame the gentlemen. Adélaïde looked like the heroine of a work of art. Her hair was the color of the strong coffee he drank each morning. Her eyes were like emeralds. Her skin was pale, but she maintained a healthy pink glow in her cheeks. Her lips were the envy of many an actress who would bite hers to achieve the same effect.
It felt that half of the gentlemen in London had proposed to his sister.
Fortunately for Adélaïde, Mr. Greyson took her refusal graciously and soon left.
Folding up his unread newspaper, Luc stood and walked over to his sister. He clapped as he got closer.
“A brilliant act, Mademoiselle. I do hope, however, that there will be no repeat performance.”
“I cannot help what men say to me, Luc. You know I give them no encouragement.” She looked distressed, so Luc softened his tone.
“It is because the English appreciate beautiful things, Adélaïde,” Luc said in his soft French accent. They had escaped France nineteen years before but unlike his sister, who spoke perfect English, Luc refused to part with his accent. As the owner and manager of a small theater, it had not hurt him. If anything, it tended toward the artistic and, in the past years, London’s appreciation for the arts had grown.
Luc’s theater was attended by many members of the ton— even Lord Chamberlain blessed it with his presence and allowed Luc the use of the burletta license. Luc was pleased to be amongst the best theaters in town allowed to give a dramatic performance with dialogue— so long as it was set to music.
“I am a mirror image of you, excepting your brown eyes. In complimenting me, you compliment yourself,” Adélaïde said, her hand on her hips.
Luc laughed. Adélaïde always did speak her mind in plain, impossible-to-misunderstand speech. She soon joined in his laughter and Luc was happy to see the distress of an unwanted proposal escape her mind while she smiled.
“That is better. Only smiles and pleasant things for my little sister.”
“I wonder when you will be in the same position as Mr. Greyson was a few minutes ago. You are surrounded by beautiful women— the most desirable women in England— yet, you remain unmarried. When is it your turn to fall in love?” She looked at him with her eyebrows inclined in judgment and curiosity.
“Love— such a fickle emotion. It comes and goes.” Luc waved his hand in front of him like a pendulum.
“That is not love, brother. That is… fantasy… infatuation. When you meet a good woman you can respect, ah… then you will know what love is. I do not believe in the kind of love talked about in novels or plays.”
Luc grabbed his chest dramatically, his eyes darting around the room. “Do not say such sacrilegious words too loudly. Someone might hear you and who would I get to come to my theater? Speaking of which, were you able to get Juliet’s costume finished?”
“If you had looked, you would see that it was in the wardrobe yesterday.”
Luc grabbed Adélaïde’s hand and bowed to kiss it. He knew everything that went on in his theater and had seen the finished costumes the day before. He had effectively changed the subject, though, and he did not mind the chiding from Adélaïde. “I should have noticed, but I am avoiding Miss White at the moment. She has been flirting shamelessly with me and I have made it thirty-three years without being entrapped and I intend to make it at least a couple years more.”
“I suppose that you will then stand very still while some ambitious beauty sets her trap? Or would you prefer to marry a proper lady? Either way, you will be powerless when the right woman comes along. You are not like me. You do not like to be alone.” She jabbed her finger into his arm.
“Yes, I know. But I have lived here too long. I too have grown to love beautiful things and love to surround myself with their company. I am not ready to limit myself to just one.”
Adélaïde rolled her eyes. “You should marry.”
Her suggestion made, she turned and left the room— probably to return to her dress shop on the ground floor of their town house located near the busy Strand. Luc wanted to see her settled and happy, but he respected the work she did. Adélaïde had a reputation in London for her creative, fashionable gowns and she chose to use it to help other young women who found themselves alone or destitute in town by giving them needlework in her shop. She paid a fair wage and her apprentices learned from the best under her vigilant eye.
Adélaïde’s words echoed in Luc’s mind. You should marry. But if Luc had learned one thing in his life, it was that some people’s lives were taken away before their time. Each day was a gift that should be enjoyed to its fullest. Life was meant to be savored.
Now alone in the house, Luc felt uneasy. He did not like to be idle or left with his thoughts. It is a blessing there is always work to be done.
Luc donned his hat and coat and left his home. Le Soleil, his pride and joy, was located just a ten minute walk away from his home on the west end of The Strand. It was not as grand as The Theatre Royal, but it was his passion.
Crossing the open square opposite Charing Cross, Luc saw a figure up ahead whom he would much rather have avoided. Their paths would intersect and there was no polite way to avoid Mr. Josiah Garrett, the manager of a much larger theater nearby. His theater had been rebuilt recently after it had burned down. It was a common enough occurrence in the theater world, and one that Luc took care to prevent in his own establishment. However, Mr. Garrett had built his theater to cater to the elite, raising the price so that only the rich could attend. Even Luc had to admit that the theater was pleasing to the eye and comfortable for those who could afford to enter. But it was not enough for Mr. Garrett. He wanted all of London in his theater and resented Luc and Le Soleil for drawing the ton with its quality entertainment and the poorer gentry with its reasonable price.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Mauvier.” He inclined his head and came to a stop next to Luc.
“Mr. Garrett, what a pleasure.” Luc forced a smile and waited for the attack. It never took long.
“You had best take care this season. I have some inside information that Lord Chamberlain intends to crack down against you small theaters operating on the burletta license. Only theaters with the prestigious letters patent will be allowed to operate by the end of the year.” He grabbed the lapels of his coat and puffed his chest out.
Luc was not worried. He had been threatened too many times about the letters patent for it to ruffle him.
“You know as well as I do that the law permits any theater to play accompanying music to a drama, thus avoiding the need for your famous letters patent. Besides, Lord Chamberlain and his wife often frequent Le Soleil. Only last night, they were praising Miss DeVries for her extraordinary performance as Calista.” He knew that would be a sore point for Mr. Garrett. Miss Alexandra DeVries had been an instant success since her debut at Le Soleil and was much sought after in society. Wherever Miss DeVries appeared, a large public surely followed.
“You are out of the loop, my friend, if you think you can rely on Miss DeVries for the rest of the season.” Mr. Garrett pulled his eyeglass out of his pocket and polished it,
waiting for a reaction.
Luc was intrigued. If something had changed with his main actress, he should know about it. But he would never give Mr. Garrett the satisfaction of knowing he was the source of such information.
“Do not think for a moment that my entire show rests on the talents of one actress. When the time comes, I have someone in mind to take her place. I bid you good day, Mr. Garrett. May every seat be warmed in your theater this evening.” Luc bowed and continued walking before Mr. Garrett could breathe any more threats. It was no secret that he would shut Luc down at the first opportunity. So far, Luc had escaped. But this news of Miss DeVries’s unreliability unsettled Luc so that he picked up his pace to get to the theater.
Le Soleil was a haven to Luc. It was a beautiful sight in the evening with the giant chandelier in the entryway lit with hundreds of candles reflecting off the white marble floor; its veins of black and grey weaving paths on the surface. The rich, red velvet curtains and matching carpets leading up the stairs on either side of the hall were brushed and ready for the evening’s crowd. Even the ceiling within the theater had a glorious painting of a sky with fluffy, white clouds to imitate a perfect spring day. It was a place that radiated luxury and drew the finest families week after week to see Miss DeVries in her latest performance. It was also a place the not-so-wealthy could come to forget their financial woes.
Luc entered through the front doors. When he stepped inside the familiar front hall, calming his heart from the vigorous walk, he relaxed his shoulders and reminded himself not to worry. There was no need to make himself anxious over Mr. Garrett’s implications and innuendos.
That was what he thought until he saw Miss DeVries waiting for him.
Chapter 5
Rosings
Anne braced herself for the storm that was about to let loose in the room. No servants were around to protect her; Richard and William were gone. It was only her and her father’s letter against an enraged Lady Catherine.
“How dare you! How dare you threaten me with scandal in front of your own cousins! Give me that letter!” Mother extended her hand out. When Anne did not react, she pulsed it impatiently up and down.
“Where did you get that from?” Mother insisted as Anne stood firmly with one hand in her pocket.
“Mother, that is not important. Did Father know about me?”
“It is of the utmost importance. It means someone has been spying on my belongings and must be dismissed immediately. Who found the letter?” Mother’s voice got louder the quieter Anne spoke.
Anne would not betray Molly. Besides, was not the letter itself of more consequence? How it was discovered paled in importance and Anne’s disappointment grew each time Mother refused to give a simple answer. “If I have a father, do I not deserve to know him? Mother, please, I beg some answers of you.” Anne’s calmness broke, her shaking hands pressed together in supplication before the only woman who could relieve the ache in her heart.
“I should have destroyed that loathsome letter years ago. Your father abandoned me. He left me when I was with child.” Her words dripped with hatred and something Anne had never seen in her mother— hurt.
“He left you? You mean he is still alive? Did he know? Did he know you were expecting… me?”
Mother lifted her head and jutted out her chin. “I forbid any mention of that man in my house. His picture only remains above the mantle to cut back on gossip. He died before you were born and that is the end of it. Now, hand me the letter.” Again, she held her hand out expectantly.
Anne stood rooted to the ground. The room began spinning around her and she had to reach out to lean on a chair.
Mother turned to leave the room and Anne felt like her heart might break.
“No!” she shouted before Mother reached the door.
Mother whipped around to face Anne. Her face was as hard as stone.
“You defy me in my own home?” she spat.
Anne reached out to her. “Please trust me. I need to know the truth. I want to find him… to see him.”
“You selfish girl— only concerned with your wants.” She crossed the room and Anne did her best not to shrink back as her mother stopped right in front of the chair she leaned against. Anne felt so small next to her towering figure.
“Hear this, Anne. If you intend to pursue this foolishness, then you are not welcome in my home. You have disappointed me today more than your father did when he left. Give me that letter now or I vow before God that you are no longer my child.”
Anne stared at Mother in disbelief. Surely this is a dream. A horrible, terrible dream. But the paper in her hand crinkled inside her pocket. That was real.
Bracing herself against the chair, Anne lashed back. “If you will not help me, then I shall find out on my own.” Anne felt proud of herself for speaking up. How many times had Mother hurt her with words while Anne stood meekly by?
But Anne’s bravado was short-lived. She was not prepared for the disappointment in her mother’s eyes.
“I will be discreet lest I shame our family name, but I must meet him. I wish you could understand.”
Once again, Mother hardened her face. Without a word, she turned to leave the room.
As she opened the door, she said over her shoulder, “Be gone in a week.”
The door closed.
Anne made it to her room in a daze. She felt numb; her ears made a buzzing sound.
Nancy held out a bottle of smelling salts. The strong odor of vinegar brought Anne out of the trance she was in, but she still could not believe what had happened downstairs. She pinched her arm, trying to wake from the nightmare. Her skin reddened, swollen with the irritation. When she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them, nothing changed.
Finally, Anne focused on Nancy’s concerned face. “She has disowned me. I am to leave.”
Nancy stepped back with her hand over her heart, eyes wide. Then, her face turned red and she huffed. “Just wait until Mum hears this. What a pretty piece of work Her Ladyship has become. To turn her own daughter— her only daughter, at that— out of house and home…” She plunked her balled fists on her hips.
Anne wished she could be angry at her mother like Nancy was. But the hurt look in Mother’s eyes loomed before her and no amount of blinking or pinching would make it go away. Perhaps she should speak to Mother once her emotions were settled.
There was a knock on the bedchamber door. Anne stood and walked tentatively toward the door in hopes of seeing her mother. Surely she had come to set matters straight. She was stern, but she had never been cruel.
A footman stood in front of her door, a trunk in front of him. “Where should I put this, Miss?” he asked, an apologetic look on his face.
Anne sunk down to the floor, too stunned to respond. Nancy had the trunk set in the middle of the large room.
Before the footman left the room, he addressed Anne, “Miss, we are all very sorry…” He looked like he wanted to say more, but bit his lips and disappeared from the room in two long strides.
Anne felt defeated and soon broke down in tears. “Oh, Nancy, what am I to do? Where will I go?” she asked between sobs.
Nancy sat with her on the floor, lending a shoulder to cry on and patting Anne’s back like she were comforting a child. “There, there, now. It will be all right, you shall see,” she repeated in a soft voice.
The words were a comfort to Anne, even if she did not believe them.
She would have languished in tears the rest of the day, but Nancy shifted to sit in front of her. She held both of Anne’s hands, demanding her full attention.
“That is enough, Miss Anne. Her Ladyship has made her desire for you to leave as clear as crystal. We must make a plan and pack your belongings.” Her words were decisive and Anne sniffed to stop her tears.
“Very good, Miss. That is the spirit. You have lived like a caged bird your whole life. You must try to see the opportunity in this.”
“But I do not have anywhere to go. All I kno
w is Rosings. I do not have the kinds of friends I could presume upon for hospitality. I am alone.” A wave of hysteria threatened to overtake Anne.
“You are not alone. Do you think I could leave you at a time like this, Miss Anne? Where you go, I go. I could not in good conscience watch as my childhood friend suffered such a severe punishment.” She shook Anne’s hands in her insistence.
“I thank you, Nancy. But… I cannot pay you. How would we live? I do not know much about… well, anything. However, I do know that it takes money to live and I have no way of earning it. What could I do? You would be much better off if you looked for a different position. I could give you excellent references.”
Nancy furled her brow. “No, Miss. We will manage somehow.”
Anne firmly shook her head.
Standing up, Nancy said, “Miss Anne, you must be reasonable. How do you plan to survive without my help? I can see that you come to no harm and serve as a companion. What I think you should do is discuss your situation with your cousins before they leave— I cannot imagine they will stay long after the events of this morning. Did you offend Mr. Darcy in your refusal? Might he help us find somewhere to go— perhaps his house in town? Maybe Colonel Fitzwilliam has friends who could extend their hospitality?”
Anne breathed steadily to calm her pounding heart. She did not want to be selfish by dragging Nancy away from Rosings with her, but she was relieved beyond measure to hear her maid’s determination to accompany her— wherever that may be.
Now that she had the mastery over her numb limbs, Anne stood and straightened her skirt. “I will speak with Richard. He has many friends and I trust his discretion enough to seek his help.” She would have preferred to confide her new circumstances to William, but after refusing his offer of marriage only minutes ago, Anne did not feel free to ask for his help.
When Anne inquired as to Richard’s whereabouts, she was informed that he had gone for a ride with William. Anne requested that she be told as soon as he returned.
