Anne stood with her body pressed firmly to her bedroom wall, hardly daring to breathe in fear that it should betray her presence. She watched, hidden from the window by the shadow of the drapes, at the busy scene unfolding below.
The de Bourgh family crest looked back at her accusingly, as it proudly adorned the ornately gilded carriage which sat at the foot of the stone steps. The front of the house was a flurry of activity. Several trunks and boxes sat upon the gravel, stacking higher and higher, as several members of the house staff continued to appear with yet more items. Two footmen were furiously securing the large trunks to the luggage rack while three of the young chambermaids secured the small, more delicate items within the awaiting carriage. Never did she believe her mother would yield so easily, yet the scene below only confirmed her mother's impending departure.
Anne could feel the nervous tight twisting within her stomach. A feeling which was forever entwinned when thinking of her mother. She looked up to the muted sky, it could not be quite yet six o'clock. The soft glow of the mid-summer morning light still looked but half asleep; even the sun was unwilling to shine this morning. Looking down once more, she saw Mary her mother's personal maid, complete with grey travelling cloak, issuing instructions to a footman. The woman looked rather flustered. Good thought Anne: she could not quite bring herself to pity her situation; recalling her odd evasive behaviour on her arrival. Her conduct no doubt attributed to her deep loyalty to her mother and all her schemes.
Anne could not chastise the lady's maid for the loyalty she felt towards her mistress, however it did not mean Anne wished her to remain at Rosings. Oh Lord, the house staff! How was she to face them? Did they know it was she who had sent her mother from their ancestral home? Perhaps the house was already a flurry of gossip and speculation.
Anne sighed and drew back from the window. Were the staff even aware that it was she who was the true mistress of Rosings Park? She herself was to blame entirely if they did not, for she had simply allowed her mother to continue as mistress rather than upset the apple cart.
She had been a coward, too afraid to show her hand and take charge of a role which her father had clearly thought her capable of fulfilling. She had allowed her mother to continue as mistress of the house, issuing orders and spending lavishly, with no care for the detailed running of the estate behind the scenes. Anne may not have been the face behind Rosings Park, but she had already been acting as it's caretaker for several years. Of course the family steward, legal advisors and some of the tenants knew that Rosings Park was solely in Miss de Bourgh's name; for it was Anne they turned to in order to finalise financial matters. It was, after all, her binding signature which they sought. This was an area where her mother paid little attention. It was an area her mother thought quite beneath her notice ,even if she had been able. To speak of money in such terms was vulgar, to converse on such matters indignant. What would the rest of the staff think upon addressing Anne as their mistress?
She leaned back against the wall. The staff cared for her, she had always shown them kindness, a courtesy her mother did not. Surely there would be no scandal, no condescension to the sudden departure of Lady Catherine. Her mother's personal maid and Mrs Jenkinson were likely the only two to hold any real dislike to the sudden change of power. She was almost glad knowing that her mother planned upon having Mary travel with her, for it saved Anne the headache of knowing what to do with her. Oh Lord, she thought with a sudden start, how frightful will Mr Collins react when he hears the news of the loss of his most esteemed patroness?
Swallowing hard, she pulled back the curtain and stood in full view of the window, her dressing gown pulled tightly around her as she looked again below. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. Her mother disapproved of waking early, seeing it as both unnatural and uncivil; perhaps she had given instructions the night before and was yet still to rise?
Upon leaving her mother's room last night, Anne had taken supper in the library in front of the fire. Her heart had beat most furiously, high on adrenaline after their altercation. She did not regret her decision, perhaps her mother would in future take her more seriously. Anne was determined to be under the control of her mother no longer. The hidden letter, and seeing her mother rise quickly to cross the room to the fire, when she was meant to be indisposed; had only secured her fate. How could she keep Edwards letter from her and worse, how could she burn it?
Anne was done with her mother's manipulation and lies. How could she have been so blind to her behaviour for so long? Yet this was where she paused, for she knew how her mother was. She had simply always let mother behave as she wished. Anne would rather hide than confront her mother, content to yield to her whims rather than argue. She rubbed her left ribcage, still tender from where her mother had pushed her so forcibly the evening before. No, she had not been blind, she had been complicit. Anne had simply been unwilling to challenge her mother's authority, anyone's authority; but she would be meek little Anne no longer. She was determined to see her mother leave Rosings Park.
She had eaten in solitude with a book, half expecting her mother to burst through the library doors to berate her behaviour and demand she issue her with an apology. Yet such a formidable entrance her mother did not make. By eleven that evening Anne retired to her bedchamber, yet still no confrontational explosion from her mother materialised. Anne had been glad of it but also unsettled. This was not her mother's normal behaviour; to be screamed at and censured was to be expected, to simply be left alone was unsettling. After waiting almost two hours in her private sitting room for her mother to make a much-anticipated appearance, Anne conceded to her quiet victory and went to bed.
With Hennie still in London, and no desire to call upon another maid, Anne left the window and entered into her dressing room. Selecting a simple day gown in dark green, she dressed quickly and twisted her hair into a neat low chignon. Leaving her room, she walked quietly down the hallway listening to the faint sounds of movement from the floor below. Upon reaching the top of the grand stair way she paused, her mother's rooms were at the opposite side of the house. She walked past the staircase and down the corridor. Upon reaching the ornately carved doors of the master suit Anne stopped and listened intently for any sounds of movement within. Nothing.
She waited; her head bent to the door; her attention focused on what lay within. Suddenly her mother's voice filled the corridor, causing Anne to jump.
"What in heavens do you think you are doing sneaking about," her mother asked sternly as she stood, fully dressed in all her finery, her elderly dog Daphne cradled in her arms.
"I came to find you, to discuss last night," Anne replied solemnly. Already she could feel her resolve slipping as the familiar feelings of family duty and daughterly failures began to tug at her conscience. "I wished to know all was well. Mother please, do not think I took any pleasure in our exchange. I believe it left neither of us in a good light."
Her mother stood, her mouth twisting into a small thin line, an unpleasant habit when she was deep in thought. Her hand, adorned with several of the de Bourgh family jewels, moved absentmindedly as she stroked her dog's silken fur.
"I do not wish to discuss last night," she replied flatly. "I was both shocked and deeply appalled by your behaviour."
"Now mother really I must insist..."
Her mother raised her hand, signalling her daughter to be silent. Anne bit her lip.
"I have decided that perhaps a visit to the house in Bath is a timely scheme. With the London season near drawing to an end, it is only natural that many of the great families should spend a month enjoying the superior society of Bath before returning to the country. I feel it is my duty to be one amongst the set."
Anne could not quite believe what she was hearing. Her mother made it sound as though her sudden departure was a plan of her own making. She was just about to interrupt her mother when she continued thus:
"I have informed the staff that I shall be leaving for Bath immediately. You will not mind, I am sure, if I take whichever of the staff that suit my purpose. You can imagine their surprise at my appearance this morning when they broke their fast in the kitchen, however I felt it best if I were to announce my decision to leave as soon as possible."
She leaned forward, placing the plump pooch on the carpet by her feet. Upon straightening she locked eyes with her daughter.
"I have told the staff it is high time that you, as the rightful mistress of Rosings Park by name, begin to fulfil the role in which you are born to do. I can only hope, given time, you shall rise to such a challenge. I have not yet decided how long I shall remain in Bath. You will forgive me, but I thought it best to inform the staff of the matter thus."
Anne looked at her mother, her brow furrowed in her confusion. She was still waiting for her scolding, her expected cruel words and condemnation. Yet it was not so. Her mother seemed calm, though Anne could feel the tension radiating from her. Her mother had informed the staff personally that she was leaving for Bath, as though the plan had been all her own. Anne could only assume her mother had made such a calculated display in front of the staff to save face. She was surprised her mother even knew where the kitchens were, let alone went downstairs at the crack of dawn!
Lady Catherine watched her daughter as she stood before her, silent and clearly deep in thought. In truth her mother had spoken to the staff this morning for two reasons. The first, of course, was indeed to save face; to take back what power she could and leave Rosings Park for Bath under her own terms. The second reason for such an uncharacteristic announcement was that by announcing her sudden departure thus, it would save her daughter from any gossip that would have arisen if Anne's dismissal of her mother had become known to the staff. Lady Catherine did not trust her daughter, she was too honest, too naïve; one must never show weakness to the hired help. At least this way she could begin her reign as mistress in a position of unmarred authority.
To say she was not vexed and exceedingly put out would be a falsehood, but something had changed last night which Lady Catherine could no longer ignore. Her daughter had stood up to her, confronted her and held her own. As much as this displeased her, she could not but help admire Anne.
She had sat last night, stewing in her angry, so close to seeking her daughter out and screaming at her with the full force of her rage. Yet each time she rose to take her leave and find her ungrateful daughter, the vision of Anne's fierce eyes and straight determined jaw would cause her to take her seat once more. Never had Anne reminded her so much of herself. It was both a remarkable and terrifying realisation. Did she not desire a daughter of strong will and determination equal to her own? Of course she did. But to see the coldness that passed over her daughter's features upon her asking her to leave had shocked her mother deeply. She had seen but her own reflection.
She did not want to see that part of herself in the face of her daughter. It had been upon this realisation that she had decided that she indeed must leave Rosings. She could not willingly allow herself to make Anne in her own image. She could not with clear conscience allow that coldness to overtake Anne. Perhaps leaving Rosings Park would do herself some good. Perhaps leaving old ghosts and their shadows behind would allow her to enjoy the light and finally ease her soul.
Without thinking Lady Catherine leaned forward to stroke the side of Anne's face, in what she could only assume would be understood as a natural display of motherly affection. It pained her that such an action felt so foreign. It pained her further still witnessing the momentary flinch and look of shock upon Anne's face due to such an uncharacteristic show of affection.
"Mother why do you not stay? At least let us have breakfast together before you take your leave? The roses are in full bloom, perhaps you would like a turn around the garden now that your hip seems so much improved?" Anne looked at her mother pleadingly, she could feel her lip tremble. Such a small display of affection affected Anne in such a way she had not thought possible. All she had ever wished was to know her mother cared for her.
"I think not. You and I both know it will be for the best if I were to take my leave presently. Though I would not object if you so desired to walk with me to the carriage."
Anne leaned down and careful picked up Daphne, who sat patiently by her mother's feet. Giving her mother a small smile they both headed down the staircase, across the grand foyer and down the stone steps, until the crunch of gravel underfoot rang crisp in the early morning air.
Once alongside the carriage, Anne could see both Mrs Jenkinson and Mary already seated within. Her mother clearly called out her last instructions to the staff who hurriedly moved about doing the final tasks she so desired. Anne stood, holding the warm dog tightly, unsure quite what to do. Finally, her mother stood in front of her, a softness present across her features Anne had never noticed before. Anne smiled at her weakly, holding her arms out so that her mother could take the dog from her. Her mother took the dog in silence, no longer wishing to make eye contact with her daughter.
Feeling that there was nothing more to say, Lady Catherine turned and entered the carriage, a footman closing the door firmly behind her. A few moments later the carriage began to pull away, the gravel crushing and cracking under its weight. It gained momentum quickly, propelled forward by the force of the four-chestnut horse's, eager to be on their way. Anne stood and watched the carriage from the steps of the house until it disappeared in the dip of the long driveway until finally out of sight. She stood listening to the silence of the morning. With a heavy heart and head of mixed feelings, she turned and headed up the stone steps. As she crossed the threshold, Hughes closed the grand front door of Rosings Park quietly behind her.
As the carriage made its way further along the road, Lady Catherine sat back, silently replaying the exchange between herself and her daughter that morning. She flexed her fingers within her gloves, recalling the touch of Anne's soft, warm cheek. So deep in thought was she, she remained this way for several miles. Thus, so distracted she never once looked out of the window; entirely missing the lone rider upon a grand black stallion who passed by her carriage, heading in the direction in which she had just left.