Anne's good spirits prevailed, happily, for the better part of a fortnight. Colonel Fitzwilliam had observed that she seemed quite a different creature from the quiet Anne de Bourgh of Rosings Park, and indeed Anne felt that nothing could be so far away from her now as her life in Kent. What had she done there?—sat in the same dark parlor, read the same dusty books over and again, dined with the same families and, when her Ladyship had a mind to, played the same idle card-games. How dull it all seemed!
Bath, as she had avowed to her cousin, offered such many and varied entertainments. She walked in the parks; she visited the shops and tea-rooms; she met friends and acquaintances in all parts of the city, and found herself growing ever more capable of light, simple conversation, a nicety which had formerly eluded her. The weather continued very fine, with the exception of a few rainy days, which Anne spent with her novels; and with the Assembly Rooms now open for the Season, there were balls, concerts, and card-parties to attend nearly every night of the week. The retiring little Anne of Rosings Park would surely have balked at so much activity, but the Anne of the Royal Crescent was at last enjoying herself. Even her head-aches had diminished somewhat.
During this time, she was fortunate enough to see very little of the Darcys. Colonel Fitzwilliam had made no further attempts to reconcile the warring factions of his family, and had dined alone with the de Bourghs several times since the first fancy-ball. This was apparently enough to re-secure his place in Lady Catherine's good graces, a feat perhaps also due to the fact that he, as Anne's cousin, was one of the few gentlemen who could decently escort Miss de Bourgh in public; he also cut an excellent figure in his coat, and the sight of Anne on his arm seemed to please Lady Catherine very much indeed. Colonel Fitzwilliam attended Miss de Bourgh—in company, of course—to the Pump-room, to the theatre, and to concerts; Anne, who greatly enjoyed her cousin's society, did not object. She was also, as has been indicated in this text, increasingly appreciative of Colonel Fitzwilliam's circle of friends, among whom she had found several amiable and amusing new acquaintances, many of them soldiers or relations of soldiers. (Anne was slowly, but surely, developing a capacity for amusement—something which she had never enjoyed much of at Rosings Park.)
It was only inevitable, however, that as Anne should be making friends, so too should Mrs. Darcy; and Bath being not very large, and the de Bourghs and the Darcys already having some acquaintances in common, it was not unexpected that Anne must sooner or later be thrown together with that lady, and obliged to endure her company with good grace, however uncomfortable the thought might make her.
Such an event occurred some two-and-a-half weeks after the first fancy-ball. The afternoon found Anne walking in the park with Miss Finch, whose company she found ever more agreeable; the two young ladies were talking cheerfully of nothing in particular, when suddenly Miss Finch raised her head with an exclamation of supreme delight, and gestured eagerly at some person walking towards them on the path. Anne turned her head, and discovered that Miss Finch was signaling Colonel Fitzwilliam; yet she then noted, with a sinking heart, that he was accompanied by Elizabeth Darcy and Georgiana.
"How fortunate, Miss de Bourgh, that we should meet your cousins on this fine day," Miss Finch sighed happily, her eyes bright, as the other party came towards them. "I confess I am grown very fond of Miss Darcy, for I think her the most charming girl in the world; and Mrs. Darcy is so very clever. We shall make such a merry party!"
"Five is an odd number," Anne pointed out. "We shall make an uneven party; some body shall be left out." And I am sure it will be me, she thought glumly.
Miss Finch and Colonel Fitzwilliam greeted one another, and each others' respective companions, with great joy and laughing surprise. Mrs. Darcy was similarly cheerful in her greeting to Miss Finch, though Anne thought she detected some coolness in the lady's manner to herself. It was swiftly decided that they should all walk together, for Miss Finch, who (with Anne) had been returning up the path, had no objection to walking down it again in such company; and Anne could think of no excuse to walk away on her own—and, furthermore, was quite certain that Colonel Fitzwilliam would be rather cross with her, if she should make her dislike of Elizabeth Darcy at all apparent. He seemed to consider this a fault of Lady Catherine's, and not of Anne's, and Anne was unwilling to disabuse him of this notion, however mistaken he was.
The five of them turned to walk together, and Anne was quite mortified to find herself situated between Mrs. and Miss Darcy; for Colonel Fitzwilliam had gallantly offered his arm to Miss Finch, and the two of them were walking in the front. Their conversation sounded very merry indeed, as Miss Finch had predicted; but Anne and her companions remained entirely silent for nearly a full minute, as they walked in the sunshine.
At length, Anne was resigned enough to her present company to turn to Georgiana and ask her, as kindly as she knew how, whether she were enjoying Bath.
"I am enjoying it very much," her cousin replied timorously.
"Have you done all of the usual things?" Anne pressed, attempting an encouraging smile. "I suppose you have walked in the Pump-room, and visited the Roman Baths?"
Georgiana answered shyly that she had, and the conversation was ended. Anne could think of no way to further any interaction with her diffident cousin, and was unwilling to engage Mrs. Darcy; and so silence prevailed again. It was quieter now, for Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Finch had walked on ahead some ways, and the noise of their talk and laughter had grown softer with distance.
"Have you had any news from Kent, Miss de Bourgh?" Mrs. Darcy asked after some moments.
"I have not," Anne answered, perhaps a trifle impatiently.
"I had a letter from Charlotte Collins only two days ago; she writes that the flowers are blooming in the parsonage garden. I imagine Rosings Park must look very beautiful.—Indeed," she added, "I know it must, for it was near this time, a year ago, when I visited the Collinses at Hunsford, and had the honor of dining with you there. I remember I very much admired the park and the gardens."
Anne was uncertain of Mrs. Darcy's tactics; perhaps the lady meant to discomfit her with homesickness? "You are very kind," she replied stiffly. "My mother is very proud of the estate's grounds; she takes great pleasure in overseeing the gardens every spring."
"I am sure she does," Mrs. Darcy said, with an odd inscrutable smile. "And I am sure you enjoy walking in them."
"I walk for half an hour every day," Anne answered. "Sometimes more, if the weather is very fine; but I am never allowed to stay out in the sun for long." She bit her lip as she uttered the last part, for it made her sound very infantile and invalid indeed, which was a thought she could not bear; especially as she was herself some two or three years older than Mrs. Darcy.
"I have always enjoyed walking," that lady responded, still smiling. "It used to trouble my mother very much, that I would walk two or three miles on some days, for she was always much concerned for my health, and that of my sisters. But I have always considered the exercise to have done me a great deal of good; there are few things more healthy than fresh air and sunshine."
Anne could think of no response, and said nothing. She could not make out the meaning of Mrs. Darcy's conversation: was she being insulted? Was there some subtle joke being made, which only Mrs. Darcy understood? Yet she could not help feeling as though the mood of the silence had changed; it did not seem quite so deafening as it had before.
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Finch had stopped walking, and were waiting for them at a bend in the path. The ladies caught up quickly, and the parties were rejoined, Colonel Fitzwilliam looking rather ashamed at having abandoned his relations.
The conversation was livelier now, for every effort was made to include every body; though, by some misfortune, the topic which was settled on was Music, of which Anne had very little knowledge. She was pleased, however, to see Georgiana's eyes light up as Miss Finch described a concert which she had very recently attended.
"Georgiana is very fond of music—are you not, cousin?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. Georgiana blushed, but replied with some confidence,
"I confess I enjoy it above any thing else."
"She practices every day," Mrs. Darcy told Miss Finch, with unmistakable pride.
"Indeed! And what do you play, Miss Darcy—the harp, or the pianoforte?"
"The pianoforte, to be sure. I have never learned to play the harp, though I greatly admire those who possess that skill."
"Have you been to Town, to study with the masters?"
"I have not," Georgiana confessed, blushing again. "I have only learned what my governesses have been able to teach me."
"That is no barrier to greatness, of course," Colonel Fitzwilliam added jovially.
"Certainly not," Miss Finch agreed readily. "I know a great many young ladies who have learned only from their governesses, and yet are great proficients. Have you met Miss Rosamond Hart?" (Georgiana admitted she had not.) "She is the daughter of our most eminent physician here; a very amiable young lady, who is also a great lover of music. She had not even a governess to teach her, but learned from her sister, who learned from their mother, and she plays beautifully. Do you not agree, Miss de Bourgh?—Miss de Bourgh is a friend of Miss Hart," she explained to the Darcys, smiling. Anne did agree, though she had only overheard Miss Rosamond practice her playing, and had never heard her perform in earnest.
This line of conversation brought the party into a discussion of the merits of natural talent versus the merits of training, on which several opinions were ventured, though Anne's was not one of them; for she was at this moment rather deep in thought. She was at once pleased and alarmed to hear herself described, by some body besides herself, as a friend of Rosamond Hart; for while she certainly had a high esteem for that young lady, and hoped it was returned, the idea that their friendship was known to every body else was rather distressing to her. Miss Finch, of course, was acquainted with both Miss Rosamond and herself, and had been in company with both of them, so her understanding was no surprise—but Mrs. Darcy was another consideration. Anne thought she had seen the same inscrutable smile appear again on that lady's face, at the mention of Anne's friendship with a physician's daughter; what if she should mention the conversation to some body who should tell Lady Catherine? Anne, who knew her mother very well indeed, knew without doubt that her Ladyship would be outraged at the mere prospect of such an improper connexion, and would not hesitate to banish Dr. Hart and his family from Anne's life for-ever.
"Are you listening, cousin?" Colonel Fitzwilliam demanded, laughing, as he gently jogged Anne's arm. Anne, startled, met his eyes with some embarrassment. "I was appealing for your support, for these ladies have quite confounded me, in the matter of whether novels or poetry are to be preferred."
"Excuse me," Anne replied, blushing to find all the company's eyes upon her. "I was distracted. Are you and I on the side of novels, or poetry?"
"I have chosen the side of poetry—imprudently, it seems. Can you make a defense of it?"
Anne confessed that she could not, preferring novels herself; "But perhaps we may all agree that they are both preferable to books of medicine, or law, which are restricted in their meaning to one or two kinds of people, while literature can be read by many, and has a great many applications."
This was heartily agreed upon by Colonel Fitzwilliam, and then by Miss Finch and Miss Darcy; Mrs. Darcy, laughing, and looking rather surprised, quickly concurred. At this point, it was discovered that the party had walked much farther than they had intended to, and they turned back towards the entrance of the park.
Her communication with Mrs. Darcy left Anne feeling rather unsettled, as her communications with that lady tended to do; as usual, Anne was not entirely certain what to think. Yet her meetings with Mrs. Darcy were so infrequent, that Anne resolved to let the matter trouble her no further—for what could she care, if Elizabeth Darcy were unreadable and strange? The only possible danger presented at the moment was that of Mrs. Darcy's informing the wrong person that Miss Finch had described Anne as a friend of Rosamond Hart.
Two days passed, however, and Lady Catherine made no mention of Dr. Hart or any of his family; and when Thursday morning arrived, and Anne hesitantly reminded her Ladyship that she was to pay her customary visit to Dr. Hart, she was pleased to find that Lady Catherine made no objection: indeed, quite the opposite.
"I confess I am very well satisfied with Dr. Hart's treatment of your case, Anne," Lady Catherine said genially, for she was anticipating several calls that morning, and was in a fine humor. "I was concerned, at the beginning, that he might not be taking your health entirely seriously; yet every body assured me that he was the best, and I have been pleased to note, of late, that your complexion has greatly improved, and that you have been able to attend dances, and card-parties, and late dinners, without showing the least sign of illness or fatigue, which is always so unattractive.—Bath is filled with handsome young ladies this year, Anne, but I imagine you are not so surpassed by them now, as you might have been before—besides which, you have the advantages of rank and fortune on your side. I have every confidence in your making a suitable match; indeed, I am expecting, almost daily, that the gentleman in question should approach me." At this, she gave Anne such a knowing and superior smile, that Anne (who had been listening with interest and surprise) was cast into confusion, and uncertain how to reply.
She had quite forgotten, for it had been so long ago, the conversation she had had with her mother on the morning of Mr. Darcy's wedding, and the intimation Lady Catherine had made that she had in mind for Anne a certain unnamed gentleman, next to Mr. Darcy in rank and importance. That Lady Catherine had insisted, shortly afterward, upon their removing to Bath, had not seemed suspicious to Anne at the time; but she realized now—what a fool she had been—that of course her Ladyship's design in coming to Bath had not been so Anne could take the cure, as she had professed, but so Anne could meet with this unnamed gentleman, and form an attachment. In all the excitement of her new life, Anne had given no further thought to Lady Catherine's designs for her marriage; thus she was exceedingly surprised to hear that her mother was so certain of its occurring very soon.
The next question, which troubled Anne all the way to Hart House, was the identity of this gentleman of whom Lady Catherine had such hopes. That he was not quite, but almost, Mr. Darcy's equal, her Ladyship had affirmed; but this left a great many gentlemen in question. Mr. Wentworth met this description, as did Mr. Dillingham and several of the officers to which Colonel Fitzwilliam had introduced her; but Lady Catherine could have no cause to be so sanguine when it came to them, for while Anne was acquainted with these gentlemen, and thought many of them agreeable enough, she certainly was not in love with any of them, nor were they in love with her (as far as she could tell).
Indeed, Anne could think of no gentleman with whom she spent so much time, or whose presence gave her so much noticeable pleasure, that Lady Catherine should think them on the verge of engagement. At least, she thought, blushing in spite of herself, there was no gentleman with whom Lady Catherine could have seen her with so often, from whose conduct she might make such a deduction, much less one that would satisfy her so thoroughly.
Mrs. Jenkinson was disposed of, as had become habit, to the nearest café, to await her mistress; for Hart House and its inhabitants caused in her nothing so much as vexation, and she had become ever more willing to avoid them when Anne requested her to do so, despite the impropriety of Anne's attending her examinations with only a maid in tow (who, unbeknownst to Mrs. Jenkinson, was also habitually dispatched to a draper's or ribbon-shop). Anne herself was exceedingly pleased, after her examination, to find Miss Rosamond and Mr. Hart both in the sitting-room, though she was rather less pleased to find Miss Cates present as well. She was greeted warmly by brother and sister, and assured by Rosamond that they had all been looking forward, with great impatience, to her joining them.
"Indeed," the young lady declared, "Theo is not even supposed to be here; are you, brother? He is meant to be studying, for he returns to the Inns of Court in a few months' time, as he has just discovered."
"To be tested, for admission to the bar," Mr. Hart explained, at Anne's look of perplexity.
"Theodore must be admitted to the bar, in order to qualify as a barrister," Miss Cates added, looking rather smug at her knowledge.
"Indeed I must, and I received the letter this morning informing me of my examination date; after which, I shall have finished all of my studies. And you believed such a thing could never happen," he added teasingly, turning to his sister.
"It may yet never happen, if you do not study as you ought," she replied with a smile. "'Pride goeth before the fall'; and you certainly have a disproportionate amount of pride."
"Miss de Bourgh," Mr. Hart said in a confidential tone, turning to Anne, "my sister, however she might chastise, was the person careless enough to remind me this morning that to-day is the day on which you customarily come to visit us. After hearing such a happy pronouncement, I could never bring myself to open my books, and risk missing your company."
Anne could not help flushing with pleasure, and thanked Mr. Hart for his kindness.
"I am certain you shall pass your examination at any rate, with flying colors," Miss Cates drawled. "I have great faith in you, Theodore."
"For which I am much obliged to you, I am sure," Mr. Hart said gallantly.
"But come, Rosamond," Miss Cates continued, turning to Miss Rosamond, "you were telling me of a letter you had had from Helena."
"I was; she sounded very happy, as indeed she always does. She describes Paris in such exquisite terms, that I am always consumed by jealousy for at least two days' time," Miss Rosamond declared, laughing. "I do wish she would have the decency to make every thing sound lifeless and dull, as you do, Theo, when you write from London."
"You are very unkind this morning, Rosamond."
"Were you not talking, dear Rose, of an anecdote which Helena had related, about our mutual friends the Taylors?" Miss Cates asked.
"Was I? I am sorry if I was," Rosamond replied with a smile. "It was hardly interesting; only that Helena had met Mr. Taylor in a café there, with his bride, and that she looked quite radiant."
"His bride—that would of course be the former Miss Bridget Strong, would it not?" Miss Cates pressed.
"I believe so, yes," Rosamond answered.
"Did Helena ask Mrs. Taylor about Mrs. Seabrook? I understand they are also acquainted; you know Mrs. Seabrook, of course."
"I do; Helena did not mention her. She writes that the weather in Paris is exceedingly fine, though of course ours in Bath is perfectly lovely as well, and I can have no cause for jealousy there."
"I met Mrs. Seabrook the other day, and she tells me that our dear friend Miss Dalton is engaged to Mr. Burke! An odd couple, you will agree, but I am sure they shall be very happy indeed," Miss Cates declared.
"Let us hope so," Rosamond replied, with good humor yet, Anne thought, a touch of impatience. "Have you read any thing interesting of late, Miss de Bourgh?"
Anne opened her mouth to reply, but was pre-empted by Miss Cates, who seemed determined to continue her dialogue of people whose names Anne had never heard before. "Speaking of Mr. Burke," she said insistently, "his brother has come back from the sea, and is to be here for a fine long while; do you think, Rose, that we shall meet them in company soon?"
"It is difficult to say," Miss Rosamond answered, casting an apologetic glance at Anne.
"I imagine we shall see them before long, and hopefully dear little Catherine as well, for I quite dote on her. How fortunate she is, to have two such loving brothers! I am sure you agree."
"I do indeed, dearest Adele," Miss Rosamond replied, kindly but firmly. "Yet I fear we shall drive poor Miss de Bourgh away entirely, if we continue to discuss people with whom she has no acquaintance. Gossip, you know, is only appealing when one is acquainted with the subjects; otherwise," she added with a laugh, "one might as well be discussing politics."
Two spots of color appeared high on Miss Cates' cheeks, which Anne noted with some satisfaction; yet the lady maintained her composure, and said frostily, "Forgive me; I had quite forgotten that Miss de Bourgh was—" She paused, as though about to say 'present', or something similarly cutting, but instead finished the sentence with "of a different circle than our own."
This pronouncement, though more polite than it might have been, nevertheless had its doubtlessly intended effect of making Anne feel quite isolated from her companions, and not in a superior way. The room fell silent; Anne, raising her eyes, saw Rosamond exchange a glance of—worry? Apprehension?—with her brother. This, more than any thing else, increased her indignation towards Miss Cates, whose rudeness she thought quite unforgivable, and she determined to preserve her own equanimity; to which end, she turned to Miss Rosamond and said, with all the affability she could muster,
"Miss Finch tells me it was your sister who taught you to play the pianoforte, and that she learned from your mother. Have you been playing long?"
"Since I was a child," Miss Rosamond replied, with some apparent gratefulness. "My mother was quite a prodigy; my father has said it was one of the qualities which drew him to her."
"Our father, as you must know, Miss de Bourgh, is unlike some other physicians, in that he has a great belief in the influence of one's surroundings on one's overall health," Mr. Hart said. "He is a true lover of music, and has always considered it an excellent restorative; he used to encourage our mother to play for us when we could not sleep, or when we had the stomach-ache."
"Slow songs, of course," Rosamond added, smiling. "She knew a great many lullabies; and during the day, she would play us reels and dances of all kinds. Our father was always delighted to have the house so full of music."
"It must be a great pleasure to him, that you and your sister have both learned," Anne said carefully, having no wish to dwell upon the sad fact of Mrs. Hart's death. Yet it seemed her meaning was taken anyway.
"I believe it was something of a comfort to him, after our mother's passing, that Helena yet remained to play for us all," Mr. Hart agreed. "And then, after Helena married and removed to the Continent, I believe he was thankful that Rose had learned so well. What we shall do when you marry, and move into your own house," (turning to his sister), "I cannot say, Rosamond; for little Juliet has always been fonder of poetry than of the pianoforte."
"I suppose I will have to visit very often; or Papa will have to attend a great many concerts," Miss Rosamond laughed.
"But perhaps then," Miss Cates suggested, "there might be a musical wife in the question."
"My father's marrying days are far behind him," Mr. Hart assured her, looking rather aghast at the implication. Miss Cates gave a slow laugh.
"I refer not to your father, but to you, Theodore; you might marry a young lady of musical talent, who can play as well as any of your sisters. Indeed, I should be surprised if you don't," she went on, "for having grown up in a musical household, you must surely be as ill-suited to silence as your father. I imagine you should be desolate, if you were to marry a wife who did not play. Do you play, Miss de Bourgh?" she asked quite suddenly, turning to Anne with glittering eyes.
"I never learned," Anne admitted.
"What a shame!" Miss Cates exclaimed haughtily. "My sister and I were both taught from a very young age, for as we have no great fortune to rely on as our attractions, our mother insisted on our being exceptionally accomplished."
"You are mistaken, Miss Cates, in supposing that I should be desolate if my wife did not play upon the pianoforte," Mr. Hart said thoughtfully. "Your mistake, I believe, lies in supposing me to be more like my father than I really am; for while I am indeed ill-suited to silence, I have no objection to attending a concert when I wish to hear music. I would much rather marry a lady of good conversation, a reasonable temper, and a peaceful disposition, than one who possessed none of those things, but could play all day long and sing like a canary."
"Do you think it impossible to find a wife with all of these qualities?" Miss Cates demanded, her haughtiness replaced by distinct irritation.
"Certainly not impossible, but perhaps very unlikely," Mr. Hart replied lightly. "At any rate, what is all this talk of my marriage? I have no plans to marry at the moment, and this debate over my imaginary wife alarms me greatly. I henceforth postpone any and all discussion of my marriage, hypothetical or otherwise, until after I have become a qualified barrister, which should hopefully take place in some four months' time. Till then," he said sternly, "I will brook no mention of the topic, for to talk of marriage upon a law student's income is not only imprudent, but embarrassing."
Miss Rosamond found her brother's pronouncement very diverting, and laughed at him for some moments; Anne, relieved that the good humor of the morning had been recovered, was pleased to join her. Yet Miss Cates did not look at all amused, and sat back in her chair, her pretty face crossed in an expression that looked very close to a glower.
After so much talk of music, it was only natural that Mr. Hart should persuade his sister to play a song for their friends. It was the first time Anne had ever seen Miss Rosamond play, aside from the two or three occasions upon which she had entered the sitting-room while Miss Rosamond was practicing, and she was delighted to find that her friend played the pianoforte with all of the talent and passion which she had supposed her to possess.
It was a captivating performance; though Anne's enjoyment of it was somewhat lessened, as Miss Cates declared that she should play as well, and seated herself at the instrument immediately following Miss Rosamond. Her performance was similarly skilled; yet Anne thought it lacked the love of the song, and the clear enjoyment of the task, which Rosamond had exhibited. Anne, who had never taken any distinct interest in music, felt thoroughly her own inadequacy, and wished she had at least taken lessons as a child.
Soon after this short concert, Anne realized with some displeasure that she had again stayed far too long with the Harts, and was late in meeting first her maid, and then Mrs. Jenkinson (she collected them separately, so that Mrs. Jenkinson would never realize that Miss de Bourgh had been left unattended). She was sorry to take her leave, despite the trying presence of Miss Cates; yet she was cheered when Mr. Hart, also rising, declared that he would accompany her into town, where he had an appointment that afternoon.
"Surely you need not leave immediately, Theodore," Miss Cates argued, looking rather put out. "I had thought you said you had no plans until noon."
"But your company is so charming, Adele, that if I spend any more time in it, I may never leave," Mr. Hart replied, donning his coat. "Besides which, it is eleven now, and there were one or two shops I hoped to visit before my appointment." (Anne was rather surprised, and disgruntled, to hear him call Miss Cates by her given name; yet she reassured herself that while he may address Miss Cates as "Adele", he was currently offering his arm to Miss de Bourgh.)
"Perhaps I will walk with you," Miss Cates decided. Yet Miss Rosamond laid a hand on her friend's arm, preventing her rising.
"You must stay and entertain me, dear Adele," she insisted gently. "For with Robert at study and Juliet buried in her books, I declare I will be quite wretched without you."
Miss Cates could make no argument, and so Anne and Mr. Hart departed Hart House alone, Anne far more satisfied at this development than she thought was entirely proper.
They walked in silence for a moment, enjoying the light breeze. Anne could not help comparing this moment to the earlier stages of her acquaintance with Mr. Hart, when such silence had seemed cold and unfriendly; indeed, when the mere act of walking with him had seemed so thoroughly improper to her. How foolish she had been, she thought contemptuously. For to consider an honest, affectionate friendship, with any person of sense and kindness, to be reprehensible, was certainly the act of a fool. She was glad now, for the warmth of Mr. Hart's arm beneath her hand, for his agreeable presence beside her, for the companionable silence which, she thought with an inward laugh, he would surely break before long.
She was not mistaken. "How long has it been, Miss de Bourgh, since first you came to Bath?"
"I suppose it must be nearly two months," Anne said, considering. "Give or take a week or two, perhaps; I cannot be exactly certain."
"And how long do you intend to stay?"
"I cannot say with any degree of assurance," Anne admitted. "My mother makes all of those sorts of decisions; she has her own agenda and her own designs."
"And does not inform you of her plans?" Mr. Hart asked, laughing. "What a very adventurous life you must lead, Miss de Bourgh; you may wake upon any morning to find you are to go some place new."
"It is not so adventurous as that," Anne replied, smiling. "We very rarely go any place new; coming to Bath is the first time I have left Rosings Park since—since I can remember."
"And what was your mother's design in bringing you here, after so long a period of immobility?" Mr. Hart asked cheerfully. "She must have some very important reason, I imagine."
"Why, she wishes for me to marry," Anne answered, before she could think better of it.
She had startled the gentleman, that was certain, for he made no immediate reply; but Anne imagined she felt his arm jerk under her grasp, and his voice, when he did answer, betrayed all of his surprise and, Anne thought, certain disapproval; surely, she had insulted him with the gross impropriety of her response.
"Indeed?" Mr. Hart managed. "And has she any particular gentleman in mind, or is that matter left to your own discretion?"
"I am very sorry," Anne exclaimed, turning to him earnestly. "That was quite indecent of me; forgive me if I have offended you."
"Not at all," Mr. Hart replied after a moment, giving her a faint smile. "Have I not told you before, Miss de Bourgh, that my family is one that believes wholeheartedly in candor? My question was impertinent, and your answer was admirably honest. Besides," he added, his smiling growing rather more convincing, "if we are to talk of marriage, as it seems we are, we can only speak of yours; mine, as you heard me declare earlier, is not available for discussion."
Anne blushed, and returned her gaze to the street ahead. "Well, then," she said slowly, "perhaps you may help me, for I seem to recall that you enjoy conundrums."
"I enjoy resolving them, if that is what you mean."
"It is," Anne affirmed, her heart beating rather faster. "Here is a puzzle for you, Mr. Hart: my mother has mentioned to me that she has a certain gentleman in mind for me, though she has not named him. This morning, she assured me that after having observed me in the company of this gentleman, she feels certain that he shall propose very soon indeed."
Mr. Hart's arm jerked again. "There is no puzzle there," he said with a hint of scorn.
"The puzzle is this," Anne maintained, feeling quite daring. "I have no idea as to the identity of the gentleman to whom she refers. My mother has not yet mentioned his name to me, and I can think of no gentleman of my acquaintance—with whom she has seen me in company," she added hastily, "—whom I prefer over any body else, or who prefers me. What do you make of it?"
"You can think of no person who is passionately in love with you?" Mr. Hart asked, with teasing incredulity. "You have not received any bouquets of red roses, or heard any poems being recited beneath your window late at night?"
"Not once," Anne replied gravely. "And I have been listening; you must not mistake me."
"This is a mystery indeed," Mr. Hart declared. "But there is a simple solution, Miss de Bourgh; it is a matter of sight."
"I do not take your meaning."
"Why, quite frankly, Miss de Bourgh: either your mother sees things that are not there, or you are blind to things which are. Is that any clearer?"
"Clearer," Anne answered, "but it is hardly a solution, for it implies that one of us must be completely mistaken."
"Such is often the case, I find," Mr. Hart said genially. They had reached the draper's shop where Anne was to meet her maid, and she released his arm as they turned to face one another. "Perhaps you would do well to look harder."
"Or perhaps my mother would do well to look less," Anne countered.
"That is also a possibility," the gentleman admitted. He bowed gallantly. "My best wishes for your health and happiness, my dear Miss de Bourgh, and that we may meet again soon.—I hope you are to come visit my sister on Thursday next, as is your custom?"
"I am certain I shall," Anne replied, smiling.
"Well, but let us hope we shall meet some time before, for that is a full week away, and you may have forgotten all about us by then. Good afternoon, Miss de Bourgh," he said, meeting her smile with one of his own. Anne curtsied, and they were parted.
She waited only a moment for her maid to rejoin her, and then they continued on to meet Mrs. Jenkinson at her habitual café. That lady was rather distressed that Miss de Bourgh had arrived so late, and declared that she had quite feared some tragedy; "But I am eternally comforted, madam, to see you safe and sound," she assured her mistress. Anne accepted her nurse's concern with very little attention, for her thoughts were rather taken up with other things at that moment, and she was quite anxious to be in the carriage, and then at home, where she could have the leisure of thinking to her heart's content.