BRIGHT HORIZONS
~ CHAPTER 2 ~
Pete, the undergardener, carried Anne into the house through the kitchen and up the back stairs to her bedroom. Mrs. Tompkins called Nelly, an upstairs maid and her longtime friend, to help her with Anne. Nelly sent for a hot bath to be prepared and brought upstairs. Together, housekeeper and maid peeled off Anne's sodden clothing, wrapped her in blankets, and laid her on the couch they had Pete position in front of the fire. While Mrs. Tompkins tried to rouse Anne, Nelly gathered the soggy garments and sent them downstairs in one of the empty bath buckets with instructions to have them laundered the next day.
Mrs. Tompkins and Nelly maneuvered the still unresponsive Anne into the tub. The warmth pinkened Anne's skin, but she still stared blankly at nothing. Despite the heat of the water, Anne began to shiver.
"Mercy me, she's contracting a fever," Nelly muttered.
"I fear you're right, Nelly," Mrs. Tompkins agreed worriedly. She gave a deep sigh, deciding the best course of action. "Well, let's get her settled in bed. Then you sit with her while I go inform Sir Walter."
Once Anne was settled as well as comfortably as they could arrange it, Mrs. Tompkins headed down the stairs. She had a soft spot for Anne, a sweet girl, so courteous to everyone, and genuinely curious about everything. Her loving nature and patience with everyone made her a favorite among the staff. None of them could comprehend how Sir Walter could overlook his middle daughter as severely as he did.
Mrs. Tompkins had often thought that if Anne were to suddenly disappear, Sir Walter might never know the difference, except that Anne kept the household running smoothly and the creditors at bay. But it was possible that Sir Walter did not know about that as it was technically Elizabeth's duty, as mistress of the house, to oversee all household affairs. But Elizabeth willingly allowed Anne to take on such tasks in favor of her more favored pursuits of visiting, shopping, and tending her roses; though she was perfectly willing to accept credit for Anne's successes. And young Mary, away at school at the moment, in her bid not to be overlooked by her father, quite overshadowed Anne with her outspoken ways and acts and declarations of imagined illness, taxing Anne with her demands for Anne's attention and placating ways. Through it all, Anne was stoic, competent, and uncomplaining.
And what thanks did she get, Mrs. Tompkins wanted to know. The first man she meets that is her intellectual equal – a learned, thinking man, who saw through to Anne's inner self and realized the beauty that she was, inside and out, and adored her for it – and would love and cherish Anne for all the rest of her days … they demanded that she cast him aside. And Anne had tried. But in their conversations over tea, Anne had confided to Mrs. Tompkins that it did not feel right. Elopement was not a good and proper choice, but neither could Anne defy her family's wishes. Mrs. Tompkins had suggested that perhaps a compromise was in order.
Anne had looked startled, as if it had never occurred to her to find a middle ground between her desires and her family's demands. She smiled, a small smile that grew as it lit her from within. "Compromise, Mrs. Tompkins? Perhaps …" Mrs. Tompkins could see Anne's mind spinning with the possibilities. "Yes. I believe you are right. Mrs. Tompkins, you are an absolute scholar!" Anne had jumped up from her seat, pressed a kiss to Mrs. Tompkins's cheek, and fled to her garden, where she did her best thinking.
Mrs. Tompkins touched the spot Anne had kissed. It really was most improper for the master's daughter to behave in such a manner with the servants. She shook her head and smiled. But really, if not for the servants, Miss Anne would not have anyone who noticed her at all, so perhaps it was not so unusual. Mrs. Tompkins gathered the tea things on a tray to take back to the kitchen. As she stood, she noticed a tall figure striding across the lawn. A closer look through the curtains revealed it was Commander Wentworth. Her smile widened. It was not only the servants who saw Anne, she surmised. The bond between Anne and the Commander was as strong as it had been quick. They had not been in each other's company more than two or three times before it became obvious that they were destined for each other. Obvious to anyone who cared about Anne, that is – which excluded most of those who ran in her circles. Perhaps a few wishful mothers noticed that the Commander's attention was not on their daughters, but that was all.
Ignoring the dishes, Mrs. Tompkins watched the imposing figure cross the lawn with a determined gait. He softened his step as he approached the garden and, as Anne caught his eye, he stopped, drinking her in. Mrs. Tompkins did not need to hear their words to know what they said. His lips moved, calling her name. Anne turned. When she saw him, her entire being glowed and she positively flew across the garden to land in his arms. He swung her around a few times before setting her down, gently so that she did not lose her balance. He cradled her face in his hands and bent to place a kiss on her upturned lips. Mrs. Tompkins should have called a halt to their actions, but they were so obviously two matching halves of a perfect set that it did not seem improper at all. So Mrs. Tompkins kept silent, though she did not pull away from the touching scene unfolding in front of her. She was actually thankful in this instance that her family did not spare Anne a thought. That left Anne without a chaperone to interrupt her times with Commander Wentworth.
After a moment, Anne pulled back, and Mrs. Tompkins could see the Commander getting lost in her large brown eyes as she gazed adoringly up at him. Without breaking their eye contact, the Commander tucked Anne's arm preciously under his own, and they turned to meander down the gravel path winding through the trees and flower beds. Mrs. Tompkins had smiled and let the curtain fall back over the window as she continued cleaning up the tea dishes. Such a love as theirs was as rare as it was special. She wished them every happiness and hoped with everything in her that they would be able to see their marriage happen.
Jolted back to the present as she stepped off the last stair, Mrs. Tompkins supposed it was not really all that surprising that the family would not want Anne married. On some level, even if they were not aware of it, they knew that with Anne gone, their lives would suffer. She sighed. A brief pause let her know that Sir Walter and Elizabeth had retired to the parlor, judging from the sound of conversation drifting through the door. She knocked lightly and was bid to enter.
"Excuse me, Sir Walter," she curtsied from the doorway. "I do not mean to interrupt your card game, but Miss Anne has been taken ill."
"Ill? Whatever do you mean? How could Anne be ill?"
"Miss Anne got caught in the rain and has developed a fever."
"Give her some smelling salts," Elizabeth recommended absently. "She'll be fine."
"Salts, you say," he looked from his daughter to Mrs. Tompkins. "Yes, do give that a try." He turned back to the cards
"If you'll forgive me, sir, but I recommend sending for the doctor."
"Doctor?" Sir Walter repeated absently, comparing the cards in his hand to those spread out on the table.
"Yes, sir. Miss Anne requires the attentions of the doctor."
"Give her some smelling salts, some broth and water, and she'll be fine. She's just mooning about that naval officer she fancied herself in love with," Elizabeth snapped impatiently. "She'll be well enough in the morning."
"Yes, you mentioned that," Sir Walter laid down his cards. "Beat that set, dear!" he crowed.
"Drat!" huffed Elizabeth tossing her cards down. "Another round?" She asked, quickly overcoming her sulk.
Neither noticed Mrs. Tompkins leaving the room and closing the doors behind her. She was livid. His own daughter lay ill upstairs and he was concerned only with winning a hand of cards! She stomped upstairs, working to regain her composure before entering Miss Anne's room again. It would not do to let the rest of the staff see her upset. If she remained calm, so, too, would they.
Nelly looked up as she entered. "The doctor?" she asked.
Mrs. Tompkins pursed her lips. Nelly was a friend, so she was free to display a little of her temper. At a loss for words, Mrs. Tompkins simply shook her head.
Nelly sighed. "I thought so." She looked down at Anne, now sleeping, though fitfully. "Well, perhaps it won't be bad. I think we have enough experience to get her through it. If not, … perhaps, Lady Russell can get through to him."
Mrs. Tompkins nodded. She did not always agree with Lady Russell, did not always approve of her methods or philosophies, but she was fond of Miss Anne. If a doctor was required, Sir Walter would listen to Lady Russell. "Very well, Nelly. We'll see how she fares through the night. I do hope you are right and the fever does not increase; however, the fever is not as much of a concern to me as her state of mind."
"That was rather odd. What caused that, do you know? How did she come to be in the garden for so long?"
"It is a shock of some sort. I have seen it in a few men come back from wartime battles. Something occurs that they cannot comprehend and their mind shuts down. The experience is too much for them to absorb all at once, and so the brain turns memories off until the event has dissolved into smaller, more easily handled pieces."
"But, Miss Anne has not been in battle!"
"True, but she was encouraged to reject Commander Wentworth today."
"No! But they were so in love! It was obvious to the world that they were meant to be together!"
"Yes, I agree, but nonetheless, a separation has occurred, and I think that is what has broken our Anne's spirits. It was as though their hearts had become one, and when the good Commander left, she was left with only half a heart. The pain of that separation is too much to bear, so her mind has shut down in order that her body might continue to live."
"Oh, dear me," Nelly intoned sadly. "If ever there were two people meant to be …"
"Yes," Mrs. Tompkins sighed. "But there is naught we can do about that now. We must first get Miss Anne through the night and hope that she does recover as quickly as her family seems to think she will."
"What?"
"Smelling salts and broth are the recommended prescription from her sister."
"But she has a fever!"
"Yes, but they feel that she is merely being melodramatic after rejecting a suitor."
"Well, I never! Let one of them get a sniffle, and the doctor would be sent for post haste!"
Mrs. Tompkins chuckled harshly. "Tis true, but we must concern ourselves with Miss Anne, now." The two women worked through the night to keep Anne's fever down. Their diligence paid off: Anne's fever rose, but not alarmingly so, and by luncheon the next day, it had tapered off.
Two days after Anne's spell in the rain, Lady Russell tapped on Anne's door. "Anne?" she let herself in the room, and pulled up a chair next to the bed. "Anne, Elizabeth has told me that you broke off with the Commander. I am exceedingly proud of you, dear. I know that was a difficult thing for you to do." She patted Anne's hand reassuringly. "Your spirits are low right now, but you will recover in due course. I assure you. All will be well. Anne?"
Anne slowly turned her head on the pillow to stare blankly at Lady Russell.
"You must gather your wits about you soon. There is to be a ball at the Assembly Hall in a fortnight! I know how you love to dance!"
Anne pulled her hand out from under Lady Russell's and rolled to face the wall.
Momentarily taken aback, Lady Russell blinked in confusion a couple of times before standing to leave. "I can see you are not yet fully recovered from your fever. Rest well, my dear, gather your strength. I shall call upon you tomorrow." She left the room.
Mrs. Tompkins came out of the dressing room where she had been when Lady Russell came in. She did not understand how such a sharp woman as Lady Russell could not see that Anne was not recovering from a silly broken infatuation. Her heart was well and truly broken, and Mrs. Tompkins was not sure it was a state from which Anne would ever fully recover.
She sat on the bed. "Miss Anne? I want to tell you how sorry I am. I know you loved the Commander very much."
Anne turned her head to peer at Mrs. Tompkins over her shoulder.
"I lost my love, too, you see, so I have a notion of what you are feeling. My William died. Your Frederick has not died, but it must feel that way to you."
Tears welled in Anne's eyes. Yes, that is exactly how it felt. How like Mrs. Tompkins to understand her when no one else did!
"It is hard to hear, Miss Anne, but even when something as harsh as your true love dying or leaving you happens, life does continue on at a right steady pace. I am not saying the pain goes away, for it does not. Sometimes it threatens to overcome every other thing of importance. But you must learn how to be the master of your grief, Miss Anne, so that it does not overpower you.
"A tree is strong and stalwart. The wind does not blow it over, but it does rustle the leaves, sometimes it even tosses about the branches. But the tree remains standing as firm and as tall as ever. You need to be like that tree, Miss Anne. Stand tall and strong in the face of grief and adversity. They will rustle your leaves, shake your branches, but you must not let despair uproot you."
Anne's tear-rimmed eyes were filled with questions and doubt.
"Oh, you can do it, Miss Anne, if you really want to. But even the strongest tree begins life as a sapling, a small scrawny sapling that gets bent low to the ground in the wind. But it recovers and gains strength, until one day, there is a mighty oak tree standing in the place of that once-scrawny sapling. Leaves and branches may move about, but no longer is the pain enough to double it over.
"Miss Anne, if I may be so bold …"
Anne nodded.
"It is a grievous thing, the separation of you and Commander Wentworth. Anyone who knew you could see that yours was a perfect love match."
The tears flowed unchecked down Anne's face. Mrs. Tompkins dabbed at the tears with the edge of the sheet.
"You must cry, Miss Anne. My mother once told me that tears cleanse the soul. Grief is a fact of life in these situations, but it is ugly and hurtful, and holding it in only allows it to grow more so. You must shed the tears that will wash the grief away. At first you will feel like that sapling, the grief so powerful you can barely breathe. But, I promise you, Miss Anne, that it will become more bearable. It will take time, and it will not be easy, but grief will pass."
"How?" Anne whispered.
"By looking forward and not down at your feet. Develop a purpose, find something to do, something new to learn. When you have learned it, find something else. Keeping your hands and mind active is the only way to persevere. It will provide you with handholds you need to keep yourself upright when grief and despair hit you when you least expect them. And that does happen."
"But what can I do?"
"We will find something, Miss Anne. Do not worry about that. But first you need to rest and recover from yesterday's shock."
"He left me." Anne sniffled as a fresh round of tears blurred her eyesight. She sat up, mopping her face with the sheet as Mrs. Tompkins had done.
"I am sorry."
"He would not even let me tell him about the compromise I thought of."
"You may tell me," Mrs. Tompkins offered. "It is not the same, I know, but perhaps it will help to tell someone."
"I was going to suggest that we wait. He spoke of his friend, Thomas Harville, who wanted to wed his Millie, but he had not the means to support her, so they were waiting two years for him to earn more money in the Navy. If that did not work out, he was going to seek alternate employment ashore so that they could be together.
"I was going to ask Frederick if we could work out a plan like that. Lady Russell's objections were for his lack of money and opportunities to rise up in rank. They were very logical reasons, and I could find no argument with them. But I wanted to be with Frederick. My proposal was going to be that he return to the Navy as planned, knowing that I would wait for him, that my heart was his. In a year, two years, we were supposed to figure that out together, he would work to accumulate some wealth and would have an idea if he could advance as he needed to. Then, he could return for me and we would marry." She looked up at Mrs. Tompkins. "But he didn't listen. He wouldn't even let me speak." Gut wrenching sobs wracked her body.
Mrs. Tompkins reacted instinctively and gathered the heartbroken girl into her embrace. Anne held on to her tightly as she poured her grief into the understanding shoulder of the only woman who had truly loved her since her mother had died.