Sylvia Andrew - Reawakening Miss Calverley

James frowned, but said nothing. Instead, he turned to Anne and held out his arm with a smile. ‘Mrs Culver is right as usual. I’ll see you to your room. The stairs are steep, and you are still not quite up to strength. I don’t suppose you’ve started the book I gave you, have you?’

‘No,’ said Anne, looking at Mrs Culver’s retreating back. ‘I’m looking forward to reading it today.’ Then as they slowly mounted the stairs, she said softly, ‘You are wrong to tease Mrs Culver, Lord Aldhurst. I’m sure she has your interests at heart.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I’m glad of your arm up these stairs, but it would have been quite easy to ask one of the servants to help me, and very much more…tactful. It’s nonsensical, of course, but Mrs Cully sees me as a threat. She doesn’t trust me.’

They had reached the door of her room. He opened it, then said softly, ‘I’m not sure it’s as nonsensical as you think, Anne.’

She looked up at him, startled. ‘You don’t trust me?’

‘Oh, I trust you, of course I do! But you’re definitely proving a threat to my peace of mind.’ He added abruptly, ‘I must go! Agnew will be wondering what has happened to me. Enjoy your day! Read the book and stay in your room! Please?’ He turned towards the stairs, stopped, turned again and said, ‘I’ll look in on you this evening to see if you like the book. May I?’

‘Of course,’ said Anne. She pulled a face. ‘I think I can safely promise to be at home, Lord Aldhurst.’

She watched him race down the stairs, then went in, closed the door and hurried to the window. Two horses, one a powerful bay, were standing outside the front doors, held by a groom. James came out, mounted the bay and they moved off. Anne followed him with her eyes until he disappeared round a bend in the drive. Then she turned with a sigh, fetched the book and sat in a chair to read it. When Rose came in with a tray an hour later she was absorbed in the story of gentle Anne Elliot.

Later that afternoon Anne abandoned her book in favour of some exercise. She was walking vigorously round the room when Mrs Culver came in, a collection of clothes over one arm. She congratulated Anne on the progress she was making, then went on, ‘I’ve looked out a change of clothing for you, Miss Anne, though if you carry on as well as you seem to be doing at the moment you may have left us before you need them all. I hope you don’t mind—they are old dresses and such of Lady Aldhurst’s.’

Anne was touched. ‘Thank you, Mrs Culver. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.’

Mrs Culver hesitated, and then she said, ‘The underclothes may be plainer than you are used to, I think…?’

Anne was puzzled. ‘Are mine so elaborate? I hadn’t thought…’ She lifted her skirt and examined the lace round the bottom of her petticoat. ‘I suppose they are. This is beautiful. I wonder where it came from.’ She looked up to find Mrs Culver regarding her with a strange look. ‘You think I know? I only wish I did. I take it that the garments are mine?’

‘They are indeed, miss. And very fancy they are, too.’

The touch of disapproval, which almost amounted to hostility, in the woman’s voice, was accompanied by a very sharp look. Anne took a breath and said carefully, ‘You obviously regard me with suspicion, Mrs Culver. Why?’

‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. But I know that Lady Aldhurst’s dearest wish is to see Master James married and with a family.’

Somewhat mystified, Anne said, ‘That’s very natural. I hope she wishes him to be happy as well?’

‘Of course. And he will be, as long as he finds a wife from his own world, a lady of rank, breeding, a good name of her own that everyone knows. People in London don’t like mysteries.’

Mrs Culver’s intention was now plain. Though annoyed, Anne said calmly enough, ‘You are worried that Lord Aldhurst might be distracted from this goal by me, perhaps? You needn’t be, I assure you. But what have my clothes to do with it?’

‘They’re all wrong. Not even one of the kitchen maids here would wear the dress and boots you had on when you arrived. They’re more like a tavern wench’s things. But your underclothes are quite different.’

Anne began to laugh. ‘You’re suspicious because my chemise and my petticoat don’t match my dress and boots? But that is absurd!’

Mrs Culver flushed unbecomingly. ‘Master James brought you here, Miss Anne, and we’ve looked after you as well as anyone could expect. But—I’ll come straight out with it—we still don’t know who you are or where you came from.’

Anne gave her a twisted smile. ‘Any more than I do.’ There was an awkward, significant silence…The colour rose in Anne’s cheeks. ‘Oh, come, ma’am!’ she said angrily. ‘You surely cannot think I’m playacting!’

‘I suppose not. But how can we be sure?’

Anne went to the window and stood with her back to the housekeeper until she had mastered her anger. Then she turned and said, ‘I do not remember who I am or how I came to be lying on your drive. But I promise you that as soon as I feel I can face the world again I shall leave Hatherton, whether my memory has returned or not. Will that do?’

Mrs Culver looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t want to be cruel, Miss Anne. But I know Master James, and I can see he’s taken a fancy to you. And it mustn’t go any further. It would break his grandmother’s heart if he married badly. He is all she has left.’

‘Yes, well, if that is the case we must hope that he doesn’t actually fall in love with someone who is as unsuitable as I am,’ said Anne crisply. ‘But he is in no danger from me.’ She took up her book. ‘Now I think I’ve had enough of this conversation. Thank you for the clothes. When Lord Aldhurst returns you may tell him that I have a headache, and would prefer not to see him this evening.’

Mrs Culver found herself curtsying in response to the authoritative tone in Anne’s voice, and left the room rather apprehensively, wondering if she was making a mistake. Those last sentences had sounded as if they came from someone of quality, not at all the owner of a shabby dress.

But she delivered Anne’s message as requested that evening. And Master James’s air of disappointment reassured her once again that she was doing the right thing.

After Mrs Culver had gone, Anne sat at the window for some time with the book on her knee, but it lay unread. She was deep in thought. The housekeeper’s suspicions were ridiculous, but Anne could not disagree with her basic message. The sooner she left Hatherton the better. She sighed and set about some serious thinking…

She reflected again on the previous night’s dreams. The red door—where was it? She could almost believe she had actually tried and failed to knock on that door, and not just in her dream…She had been excited, full of happy anticipation, she remembered…But though she tried to hold on to it the picture dissolved and turned into a pool of blood. She heard her own voice shouting hoarsely, ‘No! No! It can’t be!’ and she suddenly felt sick. She thrust the image violently away out of her mind, and the pool vanished. But she was still shivering with horror…James’s book slid to the floor as she jumped up and walked agitatedly round the room, resolutely keeping her mind blank. She would not remember, it was better not to remember…

After a moment or two she had calmed down enough to sit down again and turn her mind to other matters. Was there a clue in the petticoat and the rest of her clothes? Had the boots and dress belonged to someone else? But who could that be…?

When Rose came in Anne was wearing nothing but the blue robe, anxiously examining her underwear.