by Jennifer Joy
Anne’s heart beat too fast and she felt nauseated. She wanted to help Luc, there was no doubt about that. But what it required of her was simply too much. It was too extreme. She had avoided public attention her whole life and now, did she really think she could face close to a thousand strangers? Surely, she would faint. Or worse— she would forget her lines. No, she could not. She would fail. Not only fail, but fail miserably.
She felt her palms sweat; her body cold and clammy.
Looking up to explain to Nancy all the reasons why she could not do such a dramatic thing, she caught her reflection in the long mirror opposite. What she saw was the weak, scared woman who had left Rosings only a few months ago. Her reflection shook her to the core, and she forced herself to sit up straighter and calm her breathing. Lifting her head, she came to a conclusion which could change the course of her life. Whether it be for better or for worse, Anne was uncertain, but she knew she could not live with herself if she did not try.
Grasping Nancy’s hand, Anne said, “I must leave for the theater this moment. Please tell Aunt Beatrice what I am up to so she does not worry. I will not stand idly by when it is in my power to help Luc.”
Nancy sprang up from the couch, her expression as bright as the afternoon outside. “Yes, miss. You should go by the shop and inform Adélaïde of your plan. She can help you with your disguise. Oh, miss, how exciting!”
Anne wished she could feel excitement instead of dread.
With forced enthusiasm and genuine determination, she made her way to the dress shop. Adélaïde dropped the silk she was embroidering the moment she saw Anne.
“Anne, are you well?”
“Adélaïde, I need your help.”
Chapter 24
Now that evening was drawing near, Luc just wanted it to be over with. The other presentations would be superb, but without a dramatic number the patrons would leave his theater unsatisfied. News would spread and the bigger theaters, always trying to fatten their own coffers at the expense of others, would pounce.
Trudging down the street with Sir Francis, kicking the occasional bit of gravel, they arrived at Maman’s. Luc was grateful to have their support that night— and Anne’s. He missed her.
Maman was ready, but Anne was nowhere in sight. Luc looked at Sir Francis, who was also looking about the room. They shrugged at each other.
“Bea, where is Anne?”
“She will meet up with us at the theater. Now, we really must be on our way.” Maman walked out the door and looked behind her expectantly. “Well, are you coming?”
Both men stepped forward, one on each side of Maman. She seemed very happy with the arrangement. Luc swore she grew in stature, she held her head so high.
They were a short distance from the front doors when a carriage with the de Bourgh family shield on its side pulled up next to them.
Maman started walking faster, but Luc held her back. Her plump face scrunched up in a pout. “You cannot blame me for trying, Luc dear. The less I see of that woman, the better.”
He squeezed her hand and bit his lips to keep from chuckling.
Sir Francis stepped closer to the carriage. “I am so happy you decided to join us, Cathy.”
“What! You invited her?” accused Maman.
“I did. She is our guest and will sit with us in your box.” The look he gave, and the firmness of his tone, quieted his sister.
He spoke a few words with Lady Catherine before she continued in her carriage the short distance to the theater.
“Why did you invite her? It is my box. You should have at least consulted with me, Francis.”
“She will be leaving town next week and, knowing how she enjoys Shakespeare’s plays— just as you do— I invited her to join our party. You may sit at opposite ends of the box if you must but, for Anne’s sake, do try to get along.”
At the mention of Anne, Luc took the opportunity to ask, “Is Anne to meet us inside?”
“Patience, young man, patience,” Maman said.
Luc held his breath as they walked into the familiar space of his theater. He checked over the room and was pleased. The chandeliers sparkled with their bright candles. The polished brass glowed in their candlelight. The mirrors shone and reflected all the luxury around them. The rich colors and textures warmed Luc’s heart like a favorite blanket. The sadness and gratitude he felt at that moment was overwhelming.
He was grateful when Lady Catherine joined their group. Over the past month, he had made progress with her. She acknowledged his presence and, when it was time to go up the stairs, she looked to him to provide an escort.
They went to Maman’s box and took their seats. Luc sat on one end, knowing that he may have to leave to attend to business at any moment. Very rarely did he get to sit and enjoy a whole performance. Maman sat next to him, then her brother, then an empty chair, and on the other end sat Lady Catherine.
“I do not see Anne. I thought you said she was to meet us here,” Lady Catherine said tersely, looking to Sir Francis.
“She will come. Be patient,” was Maman’s equally terse reply. She fiddled with the handle of her cane and tapped it in sporadic beats against the floor.
The music started, announcing the beginning of the show.
Luc asked Maman, “Where is Anne? She should have joined us by now. You are acting very strange.”
“Just wait. You will not miss her,” she said, her eyes never leaving the stage.
Luc could not keep still for the opening act. Maybe it was Maman’s incessant cane tapping, the knowledge that this could be his final evening as a theater owner, or Anne’s disappearance. He was not certain, but he dearly wished for a glass of brandy to calm his nerves.
The first act ended and Luc mentally skipped forward to the comedic act. When the orchestra played the introduction announcing, not the comedy, but the dramatic piece, Luc leaned over the balcony in disbelief. He had made arrangements to skip the play. He had no actress.
He watched the stage without blinking. The curtain pulled and Macbeth began. A suspicion germinated in his mind and grew in conviction as the actors performed. His knees fidgeted and he worried what Lady Catherine would think. Would she think he had corrupted Anne? Luc had never felt such pride and such fear at the same time.
Engrossed in the drama in his own head, he counted the scenes until her first appearance. It was coming soon— scene five of the first act. Luc willed his legs to keep still, but one knee bobbed up and down with a will of its own.
Lady Macbeth stood on the stage, reading a letter from her husband. Her long, fair hair disguised the actress well. However, Luc would know her anywhere. It was his dear, sweet, brave Anne.
Luc looked over to Lady Catherine. Has she noticed?
One look at the grand lady allayed all of Luc’s anxiety. One hand rested over her heart and occasionally reached up to her mouth. The other clasped onto Sir Francis’s hand. She was now sitting next to him and Luc heard her whisper, “That is my Anne.”
Maman tapped on Luc’s shoulder. “Is this proof enough of her affection, Luc? Anne’s love for you has made her braver than she ever thought possible.”
Luc had no words to express the emotion he felt. He did not remember the last time he was this happy. He felt sure of Anne’s affection and, with that knowledge, he felt that he had finally found his home— his family.
Anne moved across the stage, commanding the audience’s attention. With powerful gestures and a clear voice, she was convincing as the ambitious Lady Macbeth. When she pretended to wipe the blood from her hands, she set down her candle to better show her frantic desperation. She was marvelous.
Macbeth was not a favorite of Luc’s. He preferred stories with happy endings and some laughter. But this was the perfect piece for Anne and the two hours passed by in what felt like mere minutes.
When the curtain fell, the audience’s applause was deafening. Luc could not hear the sound of his own clapping and cheering for the noise. He looked over at Lady C
atherine and Sir Francis. They, too, were clapping as enthusiastically as the rest. It was the first time Luc had seen Lady Catherine smile.
Luc wanted to go backstage so badly, but they needed to remain seated. The theater was well-lit, and their leaving would be noted by too many. They would have to wait until Anne came to them.
Anne ran off the stage and into the dressing room at the end of her performance. Nancy and Adélaïde were waiting and ready for her. The powder and other concoctions which had been put on her face were removed. She bid good riddance to the scratchy wig. They helped her out of her costume and back into the white evening dress she had conveniently managed to tear on the crowded sidewalk in front of the theater.
Adélaïde had pulled a few stitches toward the bottom of her train. When Anne had positioned herself behind Lord Tefton, who was known for his clumsiness, she dropped her train onto the ground where he stepped on it. The rip was heard when Anne moved forward. Adélaïde, who was standing nearby, offered her services moments before the beginning of the first act. Anne was seen to accompany the seamstress to the back of the theater where the damage would be repaired. It was not the best plan, but it gave Anne an excuse not to be present in the theater box with her aunt— so long as no one questioned the amount of time it took to stitch a train.
Now, her moment as an actress complete, Anne felt a confidence she had never before experienced. And she owed it all to the loyal support and trust of her friends. It was not the time to talk, but she had to say something.
“Thank you,” she said to Adélaïde and Nancy’s reflection in the mirror. Their busy hands continued their work. She must not delay much longer. She needed to be seen as soon as possible with Aunt Beatrice to avoid suspicion.
“You saved us tonight, Anne. Thank you.” Adélaïde tied the laced ribbon at the back of her dress, giving it a final tug.
“Now, miss, you must go. You were wonderful tonight.”
Anne rushed until she was out in the public space. As if she had no care in the world, she waved her mended train back and forth as she ascended the stairs to Aunt Beatrice’s box. Her role on the stage was over, but the acting continued.
Pulling aside the curtain, she was shocked to see, not only Aunt Beatrice, but her parents, and Luc too. Their smiles reassured her that her secret was safe with them and her reprimand would be minimal. Mother scooted over a spot and patted the chair between her and Sir Francis.
They said nothing to her, but Mother reached over to squeeze her left hand at the same time Father squeezed her right. Maybe there would be no reprimand at all. Anne knew she might be able to fool the audience. But she could never fool Mother or Luc.
Anne’s head reeled with joy. She spent the rest of the evening in her own head, hardly hearing the comedy act that followed. She laughed and smiled when prompted by the audience to do so, but her mind was soaring in the heavens and she did not yet wish to come down to the ground.
Mother patted her hand throughout the evening. To Anne, they may as well have been hugs. Over the past couple months, there were times when Anne felt her mother’s approval. Tonight, she had no doubt of it. She knew Mother would never go so far as to say the words. That would be asking too much. But Mother had smiled at her. And with each pat of the hand, Anne’s self-doubts yielded to a new layer of confidence.
She could have sat so all night, but the show ended.
Before anyone could move or say a word, Luc spoke. “Very well. Perhaps I could be so bold as to invite everyone present to tea tomorrow afternoon.” Looking unmistakably at Anne, he continued, “There is something of great importance I wish to discuss with all of you.”
Anne had thought it impossible for the evening to improve. Did happiness have no limit?
Her heart palpitated at what Luc was certain to ask tomorrow. Sleep was impossible.
Rising before the sun cast its light over the crowded streets, she opened her sketchbook to her favorite drawing. She ran her fingers over the lines her pencil had drawn, tracing Luc’s chin with her fingers. He was such a good man. He had suffered injustice of the worst kind, yet he had not grown bitter. His joie de vivre attracted Anne as much as his perfect profile, charming accent, and his large, dreamy eyes. Luc had made a life for himself through his hard work and determination. He looked after his sister, and she had become a woman he could be proud of.
Anne gasped as realization struck her. She looked around at her sketches and yet-to-be-delivered miniatures. She looked at the wall hanging she would finish by the end of the week for Aunt Beatrice. On her dresser, Anne had placed a couple roses which had been thrown onto the stage after her performance the night before. She had saved them as a memory of the evening and how exhilarated she had felt afterward— like she could conquer the world if she wanted to. She looked at all of these things and knew what she needed to do to feel she deserved Luc’s love. Had she not drawn it out only a short while ago when Nancy had revealed Luc’s feelings for her?
Anne dressed in a rose colored gown. The pink would bring out the color in her cheeks. Nancy coiffed her with twists and braids. When her look was complete, Anne looked at her reflection in the mirror. Not bad Miss de Bourgh. Not bad at all.
“You look like a young lady getting ready to come out in society, miss,” Nancy said from behind her.
“I shall not be afraid of my reflection today, Nancy. What is better… I feel well. Really well. Do you realize I have not fallen ill these past three months?”
“Nor do I think you shall fall ill often from here on. You are too busy for such a waste of time.”
“I do think you are right. Every woman should have a purpose; a reason to get up and accomplish something good. How I wish I could have all those years back! All those wasted years.” Anne’s regret put a shadow on her otherwise sunny morning.
“You were not ready for it, miss. It took finding your father’s letter to change your outlook. Do not allow such thoughts to ruin your perfectly lovely day. You are about to go to Mr. Mauvier’s, are you not?” Nancy had not been present in the theater box, but she was aware of what was going on. Any good maid would be, Anne thought. And Nancy was the best of maids.
“Yes, you are right, of course. No rainclouds on this gorgeous June day.”
A final adjustment of the bonnet and Anne was ready.
Aunt Beatrice was already waiting in her sitting room, tapping her cane impatiently against the floor.
“It is a good thing Luc lives so near or else you would make us late, Anne girl.”
Anne looked at the clock. They could walk at a snail’s pace and still make it on time. “Well, I am ready now. Shall we go?” She extended her arm out to her aunt and, side by side, they walked down the street to Luc’s house.
Mother was already there, waiting with Father. She only appeared slightly annoyed at their delay, though they were not late. Everyone sat around the beautiful table Luc and Adélaïde had prepared for their tea. Fruit and tea cake abounded. There was even a bottle of champagne.
Luc looked so handsome and happy. He was so used to the theatrical life, Anne had expected a bit of extravagance. She was not disappointed.
Anne sat between Mother and Father at the table. Anne asked if he had rested well. He assured her he had. He asked if she would perform again at the theater. Mother rebuffed that suggestion before he had completed the question. Anne bit her lips when Father rolled his eyes at Mother. Whatever his life had been in France, Anne welcomed the change it must have had in his character. He did not seem to be the coward he confessed to being anymore.
Anne was proud to think how she had changed as well. She had been too weak-willed to live a life with purpose, to try new things, to discover her own talents, to hold her own opinions… Mother had unwittingly enabled her to languish away in her room at Rosings, but Anne felt that even Mother was pleased with her, and considered her much improved. Anne was grateful Father had not known her as she was before. A smaller, feminine version of what he had been before she w
as born.
Luc clinked his teaspoon against the champagne glass.
“My dearest ladies and gentleman, I am sure you can imagine the reason for this occasion. You see, I am in love with this amazing woman.” He looked at Anne.
“You make me complete. I want to spend every day with you and experience the joy you add to my life. I want to do the same for you.” He went around the table to kneel in front of Anne. Taking her hands, he continued, “Please tell me how I can please you. Will you let me cherish you? Love you as you deserve?”
Anne thought she had prepared herself for this moment, but the way Luc spoke was so tender and heartfelt and his touch when he held her bare hands sent explosions throughout her body. He had to feel confident in her acceptance to propose in front of their family, but his hand trembled as her whole body had when she stepped onto the stage the night before.
She squeezed his hands to steady them. Luc searched her face for an answer. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a nervous swallow. Stage fright.
“I love you more than I ever knew was possible. You deserve a wife who will make you proud, and who will not be afraid to work alongside you. I want to be your partner in life, not just a coddled child who you would spoil.”
Luc’s crooked smile was almost her undoing. “You must allow me to spoil you. That is nonnegotiable, my love.”
Anne felt the heat in her face. “Very well, but I want to start an art school for children with little means. Will you support me in this endeavor? Would you allow your wife to work?”
He opened his arms wide. “Marry me, Anne.” The twinkle in his eye made her giggle, and she felt like a teenager reading her first romance novel.
Bouncing forward from her chair, she hugged Luc, almost knocking him over. “Yes!” she exclaimed.
“Anne! Such a display!” she heard Mother objecting, while Luc found his balance and pulled Anne up with him.
