Anne's Soliloquy


Pushing the plate of food away and frowning at the dour expression
on Mrs. Jenkinson's face, Anne's sigh told all.

<i>I am so tired.</i>

"Perhaps you should go to your room and rest, dear Miss
DeBourgh."

"Yes," Anne agreed passively, rising from the chair and
moving with
slow deliberate steps toward the entryway to the main staircase.

<i>It seems that all I do is rest and feel tired. How I wish I had
the health to go about the grounds as Miss Bennet.</i>

Shaking her head, Anne was disgusted with her jealousy of someone
she hardly knew, one who without a care in the world traipses about
the grounds of Rosings as though it were hers to command.

<i>If I had ever learned, I would be a true proficient-</i>

Anne shook her head and refused to finish the thought that was
decidedly not her own. She had heard her mother say such so many
times now and many other phrases that in truth she did not even know
her own mind anymore. She entered her room and draped herself
across her satin covered bed.

<i>My life has all been planned out since just after my birth, and
without any consideration of mine in the decision making.</i>

She sighed at her mother's audacity to presume that William would
marry her.

<i>Mother has been making that assumption for as long as I can
remember, but I wonder if either William or I have truly ever
considered it as our destiny.<i>

When the Hunsford party was at supper each time, Anne sat quietly
beside Mrs. Jenkinson, ignoring her as best she could. Rather she
noticed how William gazed at Miss Bennet, his eyes boring into her
as to look into her very soul. She saw how his jaw tightened when
cousin Richard attracted Miss Bennet's attentions, made her
laugh,
and play the pianoforte seemingly only for him.

<i>William has <b>never</b> looked at me in that manner, never in
all our acquaintance.</i>

Her face rested on the pillow of her bed, her eyes tearing as she
suddenly came to the realization for all his looks.

<i>He is in love with her, but she reacts as though her heart is
untouched, unaware of his love.</i>

She punched the pillow as hard as her feeble fist could muster and
then threw it a few feet from the bed, disgusted with her veiled
attempt to control her sobs.

<i>How can he love a total stranger who does not return it and not
one he has known all his life?</i>

She rose and stood before the mirror and gazed at her reflection
with disdain. Her skin was as pale as Miss Bennet's, but the
pallor
was sickly. Dark circles under her eyes were reminiscent of that of
one ghostly, almost dead creature. Her hair had no shine and her
curls hung limply about her face, her eyes were dull, her figure as
small and thin as that of a child instead of grown woman of almost
five and twenty.

<i>By comparison how could he <bold>not</bold> but love someone so
alive and in good health? You are but a stick, Anne Louise
DeBourgh, who seems more like a spirit used for haunting a house
than to abide in one.</i>

She turned away from the mirror and walked toward the window, and
with movements that were studied and slow she gently cast aside the
curtain to gaze at the wonderful grounds of Rosings below,
remembering Miss Bennet's admission to Richard of running through
the park for the exhilaration of it.

<i>Running, I wonder what that feels like, to have the wind in my
hair and on my face. How I would love to be able to run! I would
run until I had no breath left. What a joy that would be.</i>

And just thinking of such an activity brought a blush to Anne's
cheek, and breathlessness to her lungs. She found she needed to sit
in order to recover, having been so unused to ever having such
thoughts brought on fatigue. She sat in the chair closest to the
window, and took slow deep breaths until her countenance returned.

Dabbing her handkerchief on her still flushed cheeks Anne envisioned
walking about the paths of Rosings as companion to Miss Bennet,
talking of anything that came to mind.

<i>Oh, but what could I think to speak of that would be of interest
to her? It seems her life is so different from my own.</i>

Anne remembered Miss Bennet told of a love of reading, but surely
she would not have similar habits of mine and William's love of
poetry and the classics. Her gaze took her eyes to the night table
along side her bed where a much read edition of John Donne lay.

<i>No, that would be too much to hope.</i>

Anne realized that most likely Miss Bennet was referring to the
reading of novels as Richard accused of so many young ladies. She
shook her head, unsatisfied with this view of the young woman.

<i>William would not be attracted to someone so shallow as Richard
describes.</i>

Anne smiled as she recalled the last occurrence when the Hunsford
party attended, and at previous times when they had been invited.

<i>Truly Miss Bennet often responds to mother's questions with no
falseness in her or timidity, but rather with an intelligence and
knowledge of one with integrity and sincerity without artifice.</i>

Anne could admit to herself an admiration of Elizabeth for her
mettle to withstand such a dynamic personality as her mother and to
do so with such ease and grace. It was something Anne had yet been
able to dwell on attempting for long without her heart racing and
causing her breath to quicken.

<i>Oh, that I could defy mother just once, even if it were
something…
trivial.</i>

Just then a soft knock upon her chamber door beckoned her.

"Yes, who is it?"

"It is William, Anne."

"Come in, William."

Darcy did as she bid, and came into the room to stand along side her
chair with a look of concern on his face.

"Are you unwell? You seemed quiet at luncheon."

"I am always quiet, William," she teased her cousin, smiling
but
with an accompanying cough.

He smiled back and replied, "Yes, you are, but you were more so
this
afternoon."

"William, if I never talk, and did not do so at luncheon, how can
you say I acted any different?"

"I noted you not attending the conversation throughout the
entire
meal. You usually at least <i>listen</i> to Richard's
nonsense."

Anne giggled nodding. "I find him amusing most times which is
usually his purpose in regaling us with anecdotes of his life in
<i>ton</i>."

"Quite."

Anne sighed at his kindness toward her, knowing it to be much the
devotion of an elder brother instead of would-be suitor and had
always been so, and she accepted his attentions as such.

"I am well enough, William, but I have been pondering on a
thought
that I wish now for you to either confirm or deny ."

"If I can, Anne, what is it you wish to know?"

"It is regarding Miss Bennet."

Darcy's mask was well in place so as not to give away any of his
emotions, and he remained silent, awaiting what Anne would ask of
him.

"She spoke of a love of reading, and I wondered if as Richard
implied that she was a lover of novels or if perhaps Miss Bennet
cared for more…in-depth works?"

She stared at her cousin as Darcy let out his breath, and for but a
fraction of seconds an unguarded softness appeared in his features
and his demeanor relaxed in his own thoughts. Suddenly she knew he
was not gazing at her, but rather someone entirely different. His
eyes blinked and he was again staring at his cousin and finally
replied.

"Her father has an extensive library that she has availed herself
of
for most of her life. She told me of her fondness for many of
Shakespeare's plays, and several of the others you and I would
consider the classics of Ovid, Aristotle and Plato. She and I have
had discussions of some essays by Bacon, and of Blake, and I heard
her once say her favorite was Cowper, but that she also enjoys much
of-"

"Donne."

Darcy softly laughed and nodded. "Yes, she has your taste in
that
respect."

"I am glad of it, and also that I am correct in my assessment of
her
intelligence."

"You and she could have lively debates as to the wisdom of
Coleridge
and Wordsworth, Anne."

"Yes," she replied softly noting his dreamy expression when
he spoke
of <i>her</i>.

"William, I would ask something else of you."

She saw him stiffen, almost fearful of her next question that he
would not wish to answer at present. His eyes shown with a sudden
sadness before he closed them.

"Yes?"

<i>No, you need not ask that question of him of which you already
know the answer.</i>

She smiled and whispered instead, "would you…<small>take me
for a
walk in the gardens</small>?"

A relieved but confused expression crossed Darcy's face as this
was
a request she so seldom asked of him. He wondered of her thoughts
to undertake such an activity of which she was not capable. She
continued her request of him.

"I want to be outside to feel the sun upon my face, even I can
only
take a bare fraction of steps, William. It is what I desire most at
this moment…<small>without asking permission</small>. Please,
William."

Darcy smiled and nodded.

"Of course, Anne."

She raised her hands which he took and aided her from the chair.
And then holding her frail hand in his massive one, he threaded her
arm through his and together they slowly walked down the stairs and
into the golden afternoon sun and about the wonders of the gardens
of Rosings.