Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are not mine. They belong to…lots of other people.
Chapter Two - Mrs Harris's Story
"Mummy, the house in wonderful," said a cheerful young boy as he ran full speed up the garden towards his mother, Charlotte Harris. His shoes crunched on the gravel on the path and he kicked up a fair amount of dust, which clung to the black leather. She smiled warmly as she saw the dirty state he had got into already; and they had only been there a few minutes. Dust and grass covered not just his shoes, but his new jacket and his pale, thin cheeks.
"Look at you, James" she laughed at him, brushing the dead grass and dusty dried mud off his jacket fondly, "such a mess."
He was a small child and had been unwell with a severe illness that his doctors could find no cause for. He had been ill for so long, mostly bed ridden and had rarely been in the sun over the past three years, but he was getting better and stronger every day, with the help of Millicent, his nanny. His skin was still far too pale to look healthy but Mrs Harris had no doubt that the a few trips to the beach, to breathe in the fresh salt air would help him. His once lifeless dark brown hair seemed thicker and shinier and his blue eyes were much brighter and so full of life. She was starting to see his father's looks in him and no doubt when he was back to full health he would bare even more resemblance, for Robert was a well built, active man.
As James broke free again and ran off in the direction of the house, Charlotte looked up at her new home. The ivy covered walls brought back memories of childhood and the wonderfully kept garden made her nostalgic. She had been upset by the death of her uncle, but was glad that he'd left her the house here in Brighton, after all she had loved it so much as a child when she would visit during the long hot summers of childhood. She would run around the gardens just as her son James was doing now and she remembered sleeping in her large bedroom, in a king sized bed with the softest, finest pure cotton sheets, dreaming of her own house like this, with a handsome husband and children.
It was a shame that Robert could not be with her at that moment, the moment that her childish dreams came true.
"Are we going to live here forever?" came a voice from beside Mrs Harris that shattered her reverie. It was the voice of her sixteen year old daughter Anna, who, far from her thin, gaunt younger brother was a healthy, curvy girl with an attractive face and thick, luxurious brown hair. Mrs Harris had become slightly jealous of her of late. While her looks were beginning to fade, her hair greying and wrinkles gathering at her eyes, her daughter was developing into the most beautiful young woman.
"Yes, my uncle wished me to live here." Mrs Harris noted that Anna seemed a little downhearted. "Don't you think the house is beautiful?" she asked, tucking a stray lock of Anna's hair behind her ear.
"Oh, yes mother," she replied, smiling up at her, "yes, definitely. I am sure I will grow to love the place." There was another pause and she seemed to be contemplating something serious. After a few moments, "I just wish father was here."
"Oh, he'll be home soon enough," Mrs Harris said soothingly, "don't worry."
The first few weeks were hectic; moving the Harris' possessions into the vast manor house that had become their new home was an arduous task. Mrs Harris and her daughter Anna found that this task took up most of their time and that time had flown by.
The house was an enormous, impressive stone structure with beautifully kept gardens and grounds. There were large oak trees on the estate, hundreds of years old that cast massive shadows over the house as the sun dipped behind them. Inside, the rooms were large and the ceilings high, crammed full of Morrison family heirlooms; antique sideboards, paintings and eccentric foreign trinkets from Major Harold Morrison's campaigns.
"Just when I feel like I've been in all the rooms, I wander into another new one," Anna joked as she sat down with her cup of afternoon tea.
"I know what you mean," her mother agreed as she poured her own cup. "Still, we'll settle down." After a moment she added, "there is a room down the corridor that would make a very good music room."
Her daughter's eyes lit up for the first time since they had left London. "Is there a piano?" When her mother nodded Anna beamed, displaying perfect white teeth.
"I'll teach you to play as soon as we've finished moving everything in," Mrs Harris said.
Anna looked crestfallen and slumped back in her chair in a most unladylike fashion. Mrs Harris tutted at her and gave her a stern look. "I've told you not to sit like that Anna. That isn't how young ladies sit."
Anna rolled her eyes but obeyed her mother, sitting up rigid and straight backed, an exaggerated impersonation of her mother's own schooled posture.
"Would Her Majesty approve of this?" she asked flippantly and her mother frowned disapprovingly at her. Anna just laughed impishly, her light blue eyes twinkling with her own mischief.
Charlotte Harris was beginning to worry that her daughter was completely uninterested in becoming a proper lady. She certainly wasn't interested in any of those pursuits that kept her mother occupied and in fact she actively avoided learning needlework. Music was the only thing young Anna had taken any interest in and Charlotte Harris was hopeful that she would soon make a pianist out of her daughter. She did worry that with no accomplishments, Anna would find it difficult to find a husband, but this was another thing which she had never shown any interest in. Mrs Harris despaired.
Just as Mrs Harris was about to admonish her daughter for not taking her posture seriously the doorbell rang out loudly in the quiet house and a few moments later, Simmons, their maid was announcing Sir Edward and Lady Wells; their new neighbours.
The couple that were shown in could best be described as striking. He was an imposing, tall
man with a large aquiline nose and sharp black eyes behind dark bushy eyebrows. He was well tanned, the skin on his face tough and leathery and he had stern, thin lips. His wife, Lady Eleanor Wells was extremely beautiful, with soft skin and dark blonde hair, but she had the most inscrutable expression. Her light blue eyes seemed at times far away as if her mind occupied a world of its own, but then she would give Mrs Harris the most penetrating look that a less logical and grounded mind may believe she was capable of reading her mind.
Feeling oddly nervous, Mrs Harris introduced herself and her daughter and set about making them cups of tea. She noted that Anna was slumping in her chair again and was trying to give her a warning look, but Anna was not paying attention, instead she was staring at Lady Wells.
"I was very sorry to hear about the Major," Lady Wells said as she watched Mrs Harris' movements with sharp, alert eyes, tea cup in her slim white hand, "he and Edward had become such good friends." She sat opposite Mrs Harris and stirred her tea with the silver spoon, each movement calculated and precise.
"Oh, I'm sorry Sir Edward, I didn't realise. I didn't see you at his funeral."
"I find funeral's very…upsetting," Sir Edward replied, his voice a gruff baritone that sounded like silk being snagged on a jagged rock. He said no more and Mrs Harris did not ask him to elaborate.
Silence fell heavy between them and they sipped their tea lightly. Over the rim of her tea cup Lady Wells noticed Anna, as if for the first time. Her blue eyes fixed on the young girl and she placed her cup down on the table before her.
"And how old are you?" she asked, her tone a little impolite and more than a little patronising.
"I was sixteen three weeks ago," Anna replied before her mother could answer for her, as she was want to do. She noticed her mother glaring at her in her peripheral vision but she again chose to ignore her.
"A young lady now," Lady Wells said. "My daughter hasn't made any friends here yet. I'm sure you two would have a lot in common."
"That would be nice, wouldn't it Anna?" Mrs Harris asked but her daughter rolled her eyes in a way that made Mrs Harris blush in embarrassment. She gave her another look that said "not in front of guests!"
Lady Wells' mind seemed to drift away from the conversation as her eyes went dull and surveyed the vast day room. It was well lit thanks to the large patio window, where the sun was streaming through. It was beautiful but typical, with plants and comfortable furniture and a few of the Indian trinkets that Major Morrison had been so proud of.
"Charming room," she said after a few minutes, then turned to Anna. "I don't suppose you're interested in learning the piano?" Anna sat a little straighter, her posture finally pleasing her mother and smiled at the older woman. "It's just," Lady Wells continued, "my daughter Nancy wants to learn and I promised I would teach her. I was wondering if you would like to join us?"
"Oh, I was going…" started Mrs Harris but her daughter cut her off mid sentence.
"I would be honoured," Anna replied and Lady Wells smiled at her, her eyes more penetrating than ever. The two of them seemed to look into each others' eyes for a fraction longer than was considered polite, but Anna Harris held the older woman's gaze intently, not backing down
"Splendid," Lady Wells said softly with a polite smile finally looking away from Anna and down at her tea cup. "Splendid."
Through the rest of the day Mrs Harris and her daughter did not talk to each other. Anna was content to disappear into the various rooms of the house, pulling open drawers and cupboards to see what had been left there. Mrs Harris on the other hand felt let down by her daughter. She had believed that teaching Anna the piano would bring them closer together. They had been drifting apart ever since her husband left for his tour of duty and slowly they had become strangers to each other, until that day when Charlotte Harris realised that her daughter was no longer a child. It had come as a shock to her that her little girl was coming of age, growing into a young woman who was starting to think of her future in serious terms. Girls were meant to learn how to become ladies from their mothers and it had always been her greatest wish that Anna would learn life's lessons from her. Charlotte Harris could not help finding her daughter a bit of a disappointment in that area, as she had never paid any attention to these life lessons.
She felt betrayed that her daughter would now prefer to spend time with a complete stranger and had turned down an offer of her own mother's help.
"You are the one who is always telling me to meet new people," Anna said over dinner, when her mother finally brought the subject up. "This is the perfect opportunity."
Charlotte Harris sighed. She had said that, but she did not like her own words being used against her and she was beginning to think that Anna was too clever for her own good.
"All right," she replied, "I understand that, but I had thought it could be something we could do together. We've been drifting apart Anna."
"I know," Clara said, looking down, pushing her food about her plate with her fork.
"Don't do that darling," Mrs Harris said, halting her daughters hand with her own. Anna sighed, threw down her fork and sat back with her arms folded across her chest. "And don't sulk."
"Don't do this, don't do that," Anna said, mocking her mother's well spoken, clipped tones. "And you wonder why I don't wish to spend any time with you."
"Anna," Mrs Harris admonished. Her daughter's words stung.
"At least when father's here you're fussing around him and not bullying me about."
Young James sat very quietly. He hadn't spent much time eating with the rest of his family as he had been ill in bed for nearly three years, but in these past few months he had felt well enough to be up until dinnertime. Yet since his father had left there had either been tense silence or there had been harsh, thoughtless words bandied around by his mother and sister. At times like these he longed for the comfortable silence of his sick bed.
"That is a horrible thing to say," Charlotte Harris said, desperately trying not to raise her voice.
"You want me to be just like you, but I'm not interested in wasting my time sewing and having children," Anna said, her voice raised and her cheeks flushed from her outpouring of feelings. "I don't want to be like you mother."
And with that she got up from the table and ran straight to her new bedroom.
There had been no real discussion about the argument, although mother and daughter had started to talk again, albeit in a strained and often frosty manner. They spent the next few weeks drifting past each other, like strangers in the street, nodding hello politely. Meals were silent and at afternoon tea Mrs Harris could either be found alone or having a stiff, halting conversation with a daughter she no longer recognised.
On one Friday Anna Harris happily left the house to travel to Lady Wells' house half a mile away. When she left, the afternoon sun was high and yellow in the sky, casting few shadows and leaving almost no shade. The day went on and the sunlight turned orange as it sank from view behind the landscape, eventually disappearing and sending the world into constant shadow.
Anna Harris did not return,
In the early stages of panic Charlotte Harris left her son in the care of the servants and went to the Wellses' house to look for her daughter. Merely believing her daughter was being wilful and disobedient she stood in the doorway of the house and asked for her daughter to be sent home immediately.
"I'm sorry Madame," said an elderly, tall butler who stood poker straight, "Miss Anna has not been here today."
"Don't be silly, she left for this house at half past twelve."
Alerted by Mrs Harris' high, worried tone, Lady Wells came to the door.
"Why, Mrs Harris, whatever is the matter?" she asked with a cool, calm voice.
"Anna hasn't come home, I thought she was here," Mrs Harris explained, her extremities starting to go numb as a wilder form of panic set in.
"I'm sorry, my dear," Lady Wells continued, "but she has not been here today. I was expecting her but when she didn't attend I thought she may have been taken ill. I was planning to visit tomorrow to see if she was all right."
Charlotte Harris suddenly felt ill and cold all over like she had been dropped in ice water and the last thing she remembered was the image Lady Wells going in and out of focus before the world went pitch black.
AN: I hope this reads alright so far. I am rather new to writing fanfiction.