Annie sat in her chair at the table in the breakfast-room. She looked at the offerings Cook had just placed on the cloth. Putting her hand on the slices of bread in the basket, she felt their warmth and smelled their fragrance. Yes, this was fresh bread, not the reheated slices that Cook sometimes tried to foist upon them. The eggs on William’s plate were the way he liked them—lightly fried—and the bacon beside them was stiff in its crispness.
She could hear William’s heavy footsteps coming through the hallway. In an instant he had settled in his chair across from her. There was no greeting, but this she had not really expected. She watched as he reached for a slice of bread, sniffed it, put it on his plate, and slathered it with butter and the black-currant jam that was one of Cook’s best offerings. All was well, obviously. She waited until he had gobbled the bread, taken a second slice and mopped it into his eggs, and then she began the conversation she had planned during a sleepless night.
“I had a letter from your dear sister Jane in Tolpuddle,” she said. “She told me it would be pleasant if one of her nieces could visit her and the Reverend Mr. Warren.” This was true enough in the main, but she had decided not to mention that the letter had come enclosed in a Christmas greeting months before.
“Really?” William yawned. He looked around. “Where’s my coffee?”
At that moment, thank the Lord, Lucy came in, setting cups on the edge of the small table against the wall. She was followed immediately by Cook who carried a silver urn that she put next to the cups. Soon Lucy had drawn two steaming cups full of the hot beverage and placed them within easy reach of Annie and her husband. Annie sniffed the brew. Yes, it was the real stuff, not chicory as she had feared.
She let William take a sip or two. Then she continued. “Would it not be a convenient time, husband, to allow Anne to accompany you on your trip, spend some time with Mr. Robinson, and then visit your sister and her husband while you are busy at the Inns of Court?”
“Back to the same old, same old story, are you, wife? I thought I made it clear that women do not leave their homes until they become brides.”
“And perfectly right you are, William. But I thought that since Anne must inevitably marry Mr. Robinson, you would be present as they firm things up in London, and then she could escape to Tolpuddle while you complete your business at the Inns of Court.”
“Hm.” William reached for his third slice of fresh bread. “Perhaps you are right. It surely would not take long for the lovers to connect. That problem would be solved once and for all. Then if the girl went to Tolpuddle, I would not have to supervise her further until we met again for the return voyage.”
Halleluiah. Never did I think a solution would be this easy. But Cook and Lucy must take some of the credit. She would go belowstairs later and thank them.
“Good. I shall make preparations for the girl’s departure, and you can let me know further when you have booked passage.”
She sat drinking her coffee until she heard the front door close. William was off to the courthouse. Time to mount the stairs and give the good news to Anne.
As she tiptoed into her daughters’ bedchamber, she found Anne sitting in her nightdress in a chair by the window looking out towards the lake. Her sister Mary was still asleep in the bed they shared, and Eliza was snoring in the smaller bed.
“Mama,” Anne said turning towards her and speaking softly. Her eyes sparkled and her face had a becoming flush. “What’s the news?”
“Let us go into the hallway, daughter, so that we do not disturb your sisters.”
At the top of the staircase, Annie turned to the girl. “I believe you already know the news without my saying anything more about the matter. You have been eavesdropping, have you not?”
“Really, Mama, why would you think that?”
“Do not lie to me, Anne. I could smell your talcum powder as I mounted the stairs. While I find it beyond the bounds of propriety that you should be listening in on a private conversation, let me say that I am happy you will be leaving for England with your Papa. ”
The girl made no excuse for her behaviour, merely confirming that she did indeed know that William had agreed to take her with him on the voyage.
Perhaps that admission would have been acceptable enough—Annie understood her daughter’s eagerness to eavesdrop on news that would affect her future—but the girl had the temerity to demand more.
“I must get some new clothes, Mama. London society will be very different from that of this muddy little town, and I cannot appear wearing the frumpy dresses that are acceptable here.”
“You can perhaps make a new dress for yourself if there is time and if I can persuade your father to spend money on fabric.”
“Let me be clear, Mama. I do not intend to do any more stitchery. Stitchery has filled my life for too many months. I shall go to that dressmaker on King Street whom Mr. Boulton has hired recently. She is newly come from France and will know about the latest fashions.”
“Tush, girl. How are we to pay for a dressmaker?”
“I shall find a way.”
“With the jewellery that you have stolen from the drawer in my bedchamber?”
“So, you have discovered that, Mama? Perhaps you need to consider that the jewellery I have ‘stolen’—as you call it—is mine. Perhaps you will remember, too, that in that same drawer I discovered a diary that indicated you are not merely la crème de la crème of York society, but a poor little shop girl from our enemy to the south.”
Annie recognized blackmail. What was she to do if her daughter spread word of her American sojourn in her aunt’s dress shop? “Do as you wish. Get the dress from that slut of a dressmaker. Use the fruits of your sin to pay for it. I will be glad to be rid of you.” Annie slapped her daughter’s face and ran down the stairs. She headed straight for the parlour and the bottle of laudanum that she had secreted in the drawer of the Pembroke table.