by Jennifer Joy
“Oh, hush you pious ninny! Are there not enough chaperons in this room for you?” said Aunt Beatrice.
Adélaïde clapped from her chair. Father poured champagne and shushed Mother and his sister before they began another spat match.
Anne could have stood with her cheek against Luc’s chest forever, but he finally pulled away and kissed her hands. “I do not trust myself any further, Miss Anne,” he whispered to her as he stepped away.
“It was about time,” Mother huffed from her chair. “Such public displays of affection are the height of vulgarity.”
Anne’s ears burned. The fire spread over her face. She cursed her fair skin.
“Cathy, it would do you good to be embraced properly. You, my dear, are in need of a good kiss.”
Everyone at the table laughed except Mother, who sat huffing and puffing in her offense. “Well, I never!”
Father chuckled, then said, “You are safe from me. I would never force my attentions on an unwilling subject.”
“You probably have a whole family back in France, for all I know.” Mother shrugged her shoulders as if what she said was of little meaning. But she looked at Father from the corner of her eye and held her breath.
“No, Cathy. You are wrong. After all these years, I still dream only of you.”
Anne heard Mother breathe in and exhale— the closest sound to a sigh she had ever heard her make. Is Mother blushing?
Mother downed half of her champagne glass in one gulp and fanned herself. She would hate the attention she was drawing, so Anne spoke.
“You speak as romantically as Luc does, Father. I believe France did you good. Still, we are happy to have you home. You will stay in London?”
“Napoleon’s army could not drag me away. If you will stay here, then I must stay as well.”
“Of course she will stay here and as your… cousin, Sir Francis, I hope that you call often,” said Aunt Beatrice.
“St. James will do nicely for your wedding. You could get a special license. My connections should ensure that things go smoothly,” interrupted Mother.
Anne shook her head.
“No, Mother. This is something I must discuss with Luc, but for me, I would much prefer to marry at Rosings. It is my favorite place and I so want Luc and Adélaïde to see it.” She glanced at Luc.
“As you wish, mon ami.”
“Hmm. Very well. I suppose that would do. Mr. Collins can read the banns and you could marry in July.”
“I like it,” said Father.
“Miss Mauvier, I will come by later with Anne to see about her trousseau. I trust you have sufficient time?”
“I will make time for my sister! Were she to marry tomorrow, she would be the most fashionable woman in all of England.”
“I suppose you heard of Darcy, Anne. He has engaged himself to a girl from some small estate out in the country in Hertfordshire. My sources tell me they also plan to wed next month,” Mother said.
“I am happy for him. Darcy is a good man and I hope he chose a lively wife to keep him company.” The irony was not lost on Anne. They would both marry in the same month— but to different people. She made a mental note to invite them to her wedding. Surely, there were no hard feelings.
“Cathy, you would have made a terrific spy. How many sources do you have about?” chuckled Father.
“Information is power, Francis,” was all she said. “I do not intend to go to their wedding, nor should you, Anne. We must keep up appearances.”
“What? Of being uppity and stubborn?” asked Aunt Beatrice.
Mother shrugged. “It is what they expect. If we were to appear, it would draw too much attention. Besides, the news of Anne marrying a comte would overshadow Darcy’s selection. His wife’s family has no connections whatsoever. She even has an uncle in trade.”
“Is not the theater a trade?” asked Aunt Beatrice.
“Art could never be subjected to the same criteria as trade. It transcends vulgarity when done tastefully. I pride myself in being an accomplished judge in these things. Besides, Luc owns the theater. He does not act in it.”
Anne shook her head at Mother’s high speech. Change would come slowly for her, if it came at all. Looking over at her father, Anne hoped.
Chapter 25
One month later
The morning of the wedding, Anne woke to the sweet chirping of birds outside. The roses were in full bloom and their sweetness perfumed the air.
Nancy had opened the windows and a warm breeze caressed Anne’s bare arms and tickled her neck with wisps of hair. She stood by a window watching a bee buzz by and thought how blessed she was. It had made her happy to learn that Molly was still in Mother’s employ. She tapped her fingernails against the pane.
The time in London had gone by quickly. With her engagement to Luc, he had included her in more of the business of his theater. She found it intriguing and was amazed that she was able to understand what Luc explained to her about: contracts, salaries, patents, stage production, playwrights… the list went on and on, and Anne immersed herself in it, content that she could help Luc.
Now that her need for earning money through her artwork was unnecessary, Adélaïde helped her with her plans to establish a small school where Anne could teach sketching technique and, for those who had the talent, paint. Of course, her preferred clients were from poor families who otherwise could not afford such education— children from poor ladies and gentlemen. Luc had even found a large room near the theater so that they would be close. He planned to continue their habit of taking tea together in the late morning.
Even Aunt Beatrice planned her contribution for the school. “A child cannot create a work of art when she is distracted by the rumbling of her stomach,” she said. She would provide sandwiches and cake.
Father had taken residence in Grosvenor Square and called often. He was overjoyed to have an excuse to visit Rosings.
Adélaïde came into the room with Nancy, interrupting Anne’s musings.
“It is time to dress.” She carried the wedding gown delicately draped over her arms.
Anne gasped in delight when she saw the dress.
“Now do you see why I would not let you see it before now? How could I ruin the surprise?”
“Adélaïde, it is perfect.” Anne ran her fingers over the blue cloth she had seen at the dress shop on her first outing in town.
“You will never guess who picked it out.”
“It was not you? Was it Luc?”
“I would have made you a dress with this fabric if nobody else did, but no. It was not me. It was not Luc either.” She paused and Anne wondered if she would ever speak. “It was your mother.”
Anne was only a little surprised. Over the past few months, since Mother’s stay in London, she had acted more like a parent and less like a stern governess.
“She ordered this dress after she saw your sketches of Luc. You must have done something to make a good impression on her.”
“I think all I had to do was try. To show her that, like her, I have strong opinions and am capable of taking care of myself. Things have never been better between her and I, and I hope it continues.”
“With your father around, I think so. She is… not a different woman, but she is not quite so…”
“Stubborn.”
“Bull-headed.”
“Difficult.”
“Obstinate.”
Nancy and Anne helped Adélaïde complete her thought until they all laughed.
“Yes, all that. It is funny now, but it would not have been very easy to grow up with such a woman,” said Adélaïde.
“True enough. But let us not dwell on the past. The past is done and long gone. I cannot change it, but I do have control over this day and every day that follows it. I plan to continue to feel blissfully happy for many years to come.”
“Luc will see to that. You can count on it.”
“What about you, Adélaïde? Do you never think of falling in love?” A
nne asked. She knew how happy it would make Luc to see his sister settled.
“Do not you start with that, Anne. I hear enough about it from Luc. I intend to become the most successful businesswoman and dressmaker in England, and I do not have time for a man who would only take it all away from me.” She tensed and her words came out harsh. “Not all men are as considerate as my brother.”
Anne rested her hand on Adélaïde’s shoulder. “I will not mention the subject again if it is so distasteful to you. Now, let me try on my gown.”
In minutes, Anne had donned the periwinkle dress and stood in front of her full-length mirror in her dressing room. She spun in a circle, looking at her reflection.
“Ah, miss, you look lovely,” said Nancy.
“You are beautiful,” said Adélaïde.
Anne felt like a princess. The fabric was rich and, its folds lay in such a way to flatter and compliment her complexion and her figure. The brightness of the color turned her eyes to an intense, bright blue. Anne wished she could have a dozen gowns in the same hue.
Mother knocked on her door. Three sharp staccatos. Unlike before, she waited for Nancy to give her entry to the room.
She stopped in place when she saw Anne. Anne held the dress out and twirled.
“You look stunning, Anne. I always knew you were a natural beauty.” She walked toward Anne, holding a jewelry box.
“This is from Mauvier.” Mother had agreed to call Luc by his surname, but it still sounded strange to Anne’s ears with Mother’s accent. “These were his mother’s, and he thought you might like to wear them to the ceremony.” She opened the box to two sparkling, amethyst earrings. Anne put them on and admired her reflection in the mirror.
“Strange he did not send the necklace with the set,” said Adélaïde.
It did not take long for Anne to put the pieces together. Father’s locket. The necklace would match perfectly. What a fitting treasure to wear on such an important day.
Anne hurried over to her writing desk and opened the drawer where she kept the locket. Rushing back into her dressing room, she handed the necklace to Mother and turned around so that she might help her with the clasp.
She turned back around to the oohs and ahhs of all three ladies. Well, not Mother. Such expressions were beneath her. But she did look very pleased, and that was enough for Anne.
“Let us be on our way. We must not make Mr. Collins wait too long.”
Anne had hoped that anybody but Mr. Collins could perform the wedding ceremony. However, his wife of two weeks had calmed his piety somewhat. She was a lovely woman Anne had met briefly since arriving at Rosings. Charlotte Collins. She hailed from Hertfordshire and knew Mrs. Darcy very well. Anne had a feeling there was a good story there, and hoped Darcy would come with his wife. They had married a week ago and were nearby in Hertfordshire.
The ceremony went smoothly. The only one to stumble over the words was Mr. Collins.
Anne was happy to see so many members of her family present. Uncle and Aunt Matlock and Richard sat next to Mother. Darcy and his wife, Elizabeth, sat by Uncle George and Georgiana. Aunt Beatrice and Adélaïde sat by Uncle Francis. The wedding feast would be a lively event, and Anne was famished by the time Mr. Collins bumbled through the ceremony and they signed the register to seal their marriage legally.
Carriages with flowers and streams of ribbons awaited them for their short return from the parish to Rosings.
The mouth-watering aroma overwhelmed Anne as everyone entered the dining room. Baked ham, a roasted turkey, sandwiches, cakes, jams, cream, fresh raspberries… Mother had outdone herself. And in the middle of the table sat a white, frosted cake. It almost looked too beautiful to eat. Almost.
The conversation was merry, and it pleased Anne to have Luc see what a good family he had joined. He and Darcy entered a debate about the use of gas lights in the theater and the business of charging more for tickets to ensure that only the elite members of society could afford quality entertainment. Luc was adamant against exorbitant prices and predicted that the recently rebuilt grand theaters would fall into bankruptcy if they continued such practices… unless, of course, they burned down again first. Luc’s passionate answer and pride in his work elicited Darcy’s support. He even offered to help finance the conversion of chandeliers to gas lights.
While they discussed future improvements, Anne got on a first name basis with Elizabeth. She told the story of how she and Darcy had met. Hate at first sight which grew into admiration, and finally love. Anne liked Elizabeth more with each passing minute. She was perfect for her cousin. Darcy was more relaxed than she had ever seen him. He laughed easily and did not take a difference in opinion as a personal affront.
“I must be honest with you, Anne. I was terrified to come here. William has told me such stories about Lady Catherine to inspire terror in the bravest of men. Even Colonel Fitzwilliam teases that he would rather wrestle a tiger than go against her. She does not seem so scary to me. Firm and strict, yes. But not like they depicted her.”
“Mother has softened in recent months.” Anne could not easily explain the reason for the change. Nor was it the time for such a discussion. Anne knew so little about Elizabeth, so she asked in turn about her family.
The lively conversation and excitement of the day increased Anne’s appetite. She wanted to stretch her legs, having been seated for a while now.
“Would you like another piece of cake? I am tempted to indulge in another slice and can bring you one.”
“I would love one, thank you.”
Anne rose and went into the dining room, where the servants had left the cakes and sweets out on the table. Luc was there with two plates in his hand.
“I was going to bring you another slice, love. I thought your friend might want one as well.”
“You read my mind.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed her husband on the lips.
“You taste like cake,” she giggled, standing toe to toe with Luc.
“Mmm. If this is the reaction I get with cake, maybe I will save some for tonight,” he purred.
A man clearing his throat sounded from behind them. Anne stepped back and saw that her cousin, Richard, had come for more cake. Rotten timing.
“I apologize for interrupting your tête-à-tête.”
Luc, still holding the two plates of cake said, “Here, Anne. I will deliver the other one to Mrs. Darcy. Then, I think I will hop in the pond I saw on our way to the parish to cool down.”
When he left the room, Richard chuckled. “He is a fine chap. Not bad for a Frenchman.”
“Really? What do you have against the French?”
“Nothing. Only this blasted war. You have to admit, morality in England has deteriorated since the arrival of so many French to our shores. And the unnecessary loss of our lads’ lives fighting off Napoleon and his army. My life would be much easier without them.”
Before she could retort, Adélaïde entered the room.
“Bonjour.” She greeted Richard with an icy tone and a thick accent. Good Lord, she must have heard.
Richard clicked his heels together and bowed, “Mademoiselle”.
Why is cake so popular right now? Anne cursed the delicious, buttery delight causing so much mischief.
She grabbed a plate and sliced a piece to hand to Adélaïde, who still stood glaring at Richard.
“Cake?” Anne asked, as she thrust the plate at Adélaïde.
“Thank you. I am relieved to know that good manners can be found so far from the continent. I will take this to Maman straight away.” She turned and marched out of the room.
“She is my sister now, Richard. Behave yourself,” Anne scolded, as soon as Adélaïde was far away not to hear.
Richard shrugged it off. Anne was tempted to smash the plate of cake he held against his face. Sometimes maturity was too restrictive.
“Hey, can you tell me what was in the letter now? I made a wager with Darcy, and I would love to prove him wrong.”
&nb
sp; Anne sighed. An army of horses could not make her reveal the truth to more people than already knew. Even Darcy, who Anne knew could keep a secret, would never know the contents of that letter. The evidence was gone. She had burned it the day Father had arrived.
“You will have to continue guessing. You will not hear the truth from me. You could always ask Mother.” She said this in her sweetest voice.
“No, no, no. I would not dare.”
“Then, I will take my cake and return to our party.” She lifted her plate up to Richard in a sort of salute, and hurried out to Luc.
She found him sitting on a sofa, conversing with Uncle George, Mother, and Uncle Francis. Anne sat next to him and he reached for her hand. He was warm and his touch firm. Anne felt chills running up and down her spine, though it was warm in the room.
Anne closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of her family talking and laughing. She breathed in the clean country air laced with the essence of wedding cake. The warmth of the weather and Luc’s touch warmed her from the inside out. It was a perfect moment. The first of many to come. Anne would make sure of that.
Thank you!
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About the Author
When Jennifer isn’t busy dreaming up new adventures for her favorite Austen characters, she is teaching English, reading, perfecting her doughnut recipe, or taking her kids to the park.
Her wish is to continue to write sweet romances with happy endings for years to come.
She currently lives in Ecuador with her husband and twins. All of them are fluent in Spanglish.
