Chapter 27
Anne
Anne was thoroughly proud of herself.
To be honest, she was quite upset with herself—mortified, really—but also very proud of herself.
She was proud because she had followed Darcy’s advice to take the reins at Rosings. “You deserve to feel safe in your own home,” he had written, advising her to let go the servants whom she did not trust and to hire servants who would be loyal to her.
It had worked out splendidly! The meals were more pleasing and—she was positive—far healthier, since her mother always ordered dishes with heavy sauces and rarely ordered fruit.
Without particularly thinking about her health, Anne ordered meals to her own taste, and it turned out that she now felt more energetic.
It used to be a struggle for her to eat even small portions of sauce-drenched fish or fowl; now she ordered the removes to be presented on platters dry, or only lightly dressed, with sauces provided on the side.
Her mother still liberally covered almost everything she ate in melted butter or mother sauces, but Anne enjoyed eating fresher, lighter fare.
Anne had ordered that the post be subtly presented to her first, and once she had sorted it, the bulk would still go to her mother.
She dictated that any difficulties with servants—especially problems between servants—be presented to her alone, in a private way.
Anne even urged that Mrs Jenkinson be used as an intermediary when necessary.
She emphasised that her mother could not bear the stress involved in such matters, and thus she was to be spared.
Feeling the pride of how well she had managed to reorganise Rosings, Anne wrote to Pemberley to let her cousin know that she had taken his advice and was the better for it. Also, she wished to make certain that Darcy knew that he no longer had to take extraordinary measures to get letters to her.
However, as she wrote the letter and expressed her appreciation for Darcy’s support, she felt a wave of shame.
Why had she not taken these steps two years ago, when she came of age?
It was certainly not to her credit that she had felt as if she was an enemy prisoner living with the invading army, sneaking secret messages in and out, not trusting anyone other than her one companion.
Especially frustrating, in retrospect, was the fact that she had never even tried to exert power over the kitchen, despite the fact that her inability to eat the meals her mother ordered surely made her even more frail than her beleaguered heart had determined.
The past could not be changed, however, and Anne firmly put such regrets aside, finished her letter to Darcy, and ordered her butler to see that it went out in the post.
Because she could easily do that now.
Mrs Jenkinson greeted her return to the drawing room with insistence that she take some tea and a roll with marmalade.
As Anne sipped and nibbled on her treats, she listened to her mother go on and on about how much good she had done when she had lectured Darcy’s wife on how to comport herself in society.
“Just see here,” her mother said, waving a newspaper around as if it were a fan, “it says, ‘The elusive F.D. from Derbyshire, and his charming bride, appeared at an elegant entertainment near Carrickfergus, Ireland.’”
Anne was still surprised to see that anger at Darcy’s marriage had been transmuted to avid self-congratulatory boasts about her own ability to teach what she used to call “that creature” all she would need to know to be a proper Mrs Darcy during the short visit at Oakhaven.
Anne thought very highly of Darcy, but she sincerely doubted that he could have effected such a change in her mother.
Richard was wonderful, but his idea of guidance was to give honest assessments and then demand better.
Such a domineering sort of interaction would likely stoke additional anger rather than alleviate it.
No, neither of her cousins could have drained the wrath from her mother’s attitude about Mrs Darcy. Anne was almost certain it must have been the lady herself.
The latest on dit that her mother had read called Darcy’s bride “charming.” If it was she who had managed to make the change in her mother’s attitude, Anne was certain that the lady must be very, very charming.
She hoped to meet her. She was feeling well enough, these days, that she thought she just might be able to live long enough to do so.
She would not pressure poor Darcy to come all the way to Kent, of course; it would just be a part of her nightly prayers, she supposed.
She would certainly love to meet the lady who turned a shrieking, wrathful woman into a happy woman crowing about her own excellence as a guide to refined living.