Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Annie pondered a moment. “A little while ago, you said there were other things to consider. What things? What haven’t you told me?”
Janet glanced at Hattie. “I believe we’ve told you everything from our perspective, Annie.”
“Your perspective? What does that mean?”
Hattie cleared her throat and rose to her feet. “Tea. I’m going to make some tea. Then we’ll move to the parlor and decide how to proceed further.”
Annie shook her head. “Proceed further?”
“We need to discuss what this means for the future, Annie,” Janet said, quietly. “Your future, specifically.”
There it was, subtly delivered, yet like a dagger through the heart.
An allusion to the potential, heartbreaking consequence of Annie’s true parentage.
A fear that had lingered in shadows at the back of her mind from the moment she’d learned the truth of her birth.
So far, she hadn’t found the courage to face it, yet there was no escape.
Even Leo had alluded to it. The fear slid from her mouth, whisper soft. “He’ll not want me now, will he?”
“Tea,” Hattie said again, shrugging her coat off. “Go and settle yourselves in the parlor. Did you eat today, Annie?”
“No.”
“Tea and toast, then.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ll eat something anyway.” Hattie set the kettle on the hob. “Go on, off with you both. I won’t be long.”
Annie followed Janet into the parlor but wandered over to the window, her sight turned inward.
“You know, Annie,” Janet said, seating herself on the settee, “this doesn’t necessarily mean Julian Northcott will no longer want—”
“Why ‘Aunt Sybil’?” Annie, still staring out of the window, folded her arms against the pain of hearing Julian’s name. “Was she someone you invented, or was she a real person who once meant something to you?”
Janet replied after a notable stretch of silence.
“Though Clarence agreed to let you stay here, he insisted I use an alias for precisely the reason you mentioned earlier; his fear you might remember certain things about the time spent with me. That, and the fact he wouldn’t allow my name to be spoken in his presence.
I’m certain the last thing he wanted was to hear it from your lips.
In any case, I chose ‘Sybil’ as my alias.
Sybil was David’s mother’s name. Your grandmother’s name.
And yes, she meant something to me. Might I assume you saw the mourning brooch when you were in my bedroom? ”
“You might.”
“The hair was hers. She was a sweet lady.”
“And the small portrait?”
“My mother, so your grandmother also. She died two years before you were born.”
“What was her name?”
“Amelia Elizabeth. I wanted you named for her, but Clarence refused. He settled on the same initials, however.”
Annie pondered her father’s—her uncle’s, she supposed now—lack of forgiveness.
He’d been a man accustomed to dealing with all manner of people.
People who were suffering and in pain. To have cast his sister aside, especially given the tragic circumstances, seemed to go against his nature and his profession.
He had always been a kind man. A kind father.
But not an honest one. Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why?
“And the dog?” she asked.
“Which dog?”
“I remember a black and white dog.”
“Ah, Meg. David’s dog. A collie, always at his side. She was with him when they found him. In fact, she wouldn’t let anyone…” Janet’s voice faltered. “She wouldn’t let anyone near him at first. She was always very protective of him. She lived for several years after his death.”
Annie heard the unfeigned sorrow in Janet’s voice and searched her conscience, seeking a measure of compassion.
She found none. It was as if some unknown entity had crawled into the space beneath her ribs, stealing her ability to feel anything beyond her own shock and fear.
She turned around and, for the first time, dared to look upon Janet as her mother. And still, she felt nothing.
“Annie?” Janet regarded her through wide eyes. “Was there something else you wanted to ask?”
Annie shook her head. “No. I merely wish to address what you said earlier, about Julian Northcott. You cannot seriously believe he’ll want to pursue a relationship with the bastard child of a farmer.
And I cannot help but think you might be pleased about that, since I’ve suspected, from the start, that you disliked him. ”
Janet flinched and dropped her gaze to her lap. Hattie, who had just entered the room with a tray of tea, paused mid-step, her jaw dropping. Saying nothing, she set the tea tray on the sideboard and then turned to face Annie.
“Given what has occurred here this morning,” she said, her expression grim, “emotional exchanges are to be expected, and allowances must be made. I cannot speak for Janet, but I am, at this very moment, making an allowance for what just came out of your mouth. You’re upset, Annie, of course, and I’ll choose to take that as a reason for your uncharacteristic rudeness.
Now, let’s have some tea and, hopefully, a civil conversation about how this situation might be handled. ”
“Upset?” Annie laughed, a sound void of humor.
“I am completely lost, Hattie. I cannot even begin to describe how I feel. Betrayed, foolish, and na?ve, to begin. I pray Mr. Mason will respond to my letter sooner rather than later, because I think it best I distance myself from all this and return to London.”
“And I think it best you wait a while,” Hattie said. “Running away will solve nothing.”
“Neither will a cup of tea,” Annie countered.
Janet parted with a soft sigh, rose to her feet, and went to Annie, halting not even a step away.
Annie looked into her mother’s eyes, seeking something of herself.
Instead, to her bewilderment, she found herself seeing through them, acquiring the perspective of a woman who had lost everything of worth.
The emptiness within her dissipated a little.
“I never disliked Julian Northcott, Annie,” Janet said.
“Quite the contrary. I saw his worth immediately. To my shame, my response to your association with him was, initially at least, purely selfish. You see, I’d planned to tell you everything last weekend, after we’d returned from Myddleton.
I was going to tell you who I was, who you were, and the circumstances of your birth.
I’d waited till then because you’d arrived from London looking utterly defeated.
It was obvious you needed time to rest. Time to recover.
God knows, you’d already been through so much.
But I hadn’t considered the possibility of a stumbling block like Julian Northcott.
His presence at Myddleton, and your reaction to it, took me completely by surprise.
I confess I resented, and feared, your attraction to him, because I knew where it would lead.
Where it would leave me. So I tried to fight it, tried to turn you away from him.
But then I saw the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you, and I knew, before we’d even returned home that afternoon, that my moment had passed.
That I’d lost my child all over again.” Her mouth trembled as she drew breath.
“I had no choice but to submit to fate, to let you live your life unaware of who I really was. I could only hope that, once in a while, I might still have the privilege of being able to watch you, from near or far.” Eyes brimming with tears, she smiled and touched Annie’s face.
“You are my daughter, and I love you. I have always loved you. And I have missed you, Annie. I have missed you so much! All I ever wanted for you—all I want for you—is your health and happiness. That being so, nothing of what you’ve learned today needs to go beyond these walls, if that is what you prefer.
We can go on as we were, as you were. I’d already decided the truth would remain hidden and resigned myself to it.
Today’s events have been, to say the least, totally unexpected. ”
Annie, absorbing all that had been said, didn’t answer. As she continued to look into Janet’s eyes, she began to understand, to see beyond her own feelings.
Hattie’s voice drifted into her thoughts. “Come and sit down, both of you, and have your tea.”
Janet took Annie’s hand and held it between hers.
“I cannot pretend to know how you’re feeling, love.
You don’t need to make any decisions right now.
You’ve had a tremendous shock, so it’s best not to rush anything.
Give it a few days, at least. And please, don’t worry about how to address me.
Do whatever is comfortable for you. Now, come and sit down.
Your hands are like ice and you’re awfully pale. ”
For the second time that day, Annie made a decision. The first decision, the most heartbreaking of all, had been made earlier, when she’d read the contents of the portfolio.
Yet she stayed where she was, regarding the woman who’d given her life. Her mother. The only mother she would ever have.
A sense of compassion stirred, tussling with the contradictory sense of betrayal.
Annie knew which of the two would be easier to bear.
So much had been lost already. Still, she hesitated, not quite able to say the words her conscience now demanded.
In the end, she just blurted them out. “I will no longer be your lost child, Mama. Or would you prefer ‘Mother’, perhaps?”
Janet’s hands flew to her face, catching her soft gasp. “Are you sure?”
Annie nodded. “Yes, I am. So, what is it to be? Shall I address you as ‘Mama’ or ‘Mother’?”
“Mama,” Janet said, tears falling as she reached into her sleeve for her handkerchief. “I prefer Mama. Oh, my dear, you’ve made me so happy.”
“Bless your heart, pet.” Hattie also armed herself with a handkerchief, pulling it from her apron pocket. “Bless your heart.”
“And I suppose you must be Aunt Hattie from now on,” Annie said, with a touch of genuine reluctance.
“Oh, I’m not fussed about that.” She shrugged. “I’ve always been Hattie to you. Actually, I think I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“I’d prefer it as well, if you don’t mind. It would feel strange, otherwise,” Annie replied. “As for Mr. Northcott…” Her stomach tightened at the mere mention of his name. “I’ve decided I shall write to him.”
“And explain everything.” Nodding, Janet sniffed and dabbed her cheeks. “Yes, that’s a good decision. I really don’t think he’ll abandon you.”
“No, I’m not going to explain anything.” Annie pressed a hand to her chest, wondering if she even had the strength to put her intention into words. “I’m simply going to tell him I cannot… I cannot see him anymore. That I have no desire to continue our association.”
“What?” Janet’s handkerchief ceased its dabbing. “For heaven’s sake, Annie, why?”
“Because that will allow me to end it before he does.” Taking a shaky breath, she felt the heavy thud of her heart beneath her ribs.
“I cannot bear the thought of being set aside due to the circumstances of my birth, which I would surely be. I have no wish to receive a letter from him telling me, ever so nicely, that our friendship, our liaison, is over. And I cannot even imagine the thought of facing him, of seeing the warmth fade from his eyes when I tell him who—or what—I really am. I would rather end it now and be done with it. It’ll be less painful in the long run. ”
“Annie, please,” Hattie said. “Take some time to think about this. I’m not at all sure he’ll set you aside. He’s quite obviously smitten.”
“But it’s not just about him, is it?” Annie swallowed against a choking thrust of despair.
“Men like Julian Northcott are required to make a suitable marriage. One that has the approval of the family and will not bring shame to the family name or result in scandal or gossip. Before this, my position in society was already less than might be deemed desirable. As it stands now, I am completely unsuitable, no longer worthy of his consideration.”
Hattie frowned. “Well, there is another option. Just don’t tell him—”
“Do not even dare to suggest such a thing,” Annie cried. “There’ll be no more lies. No more deceit.”
Hattie winced. “With respect, love, you’ll be deceiving him if you write and tell him you want nothing more to do with him.”
“That is true, and I know it’s cowardly of me, but the result will at least be the same. I simply cannot face the alternative.” She voiced a thought that slid into her mind. “Besides, it’s not as if we’ve known each other for very long. No doubt he’ll forget me soon enough.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Janet reached for Annie’s hand again. “Julian Northcott is no fool. You’re going to have to write a very convincing epistle to keep him away, I think. Now, come and sit down before you fall down.”