Judith Brocklehurst - Darcy and Anne

As they got into the older part of the town, the streets became narrow, and instead of stone pavements, they found themselves walking on old-fashioned cobblestones. The others were a little ahead, with Lady Catherine and the Duchess arm in arm. Turning around, the Duchess said, “Do take my brother's arm, Miss de Bourgh, the pavement is very uneven. Francis, give her your arm.” Lord Francis seemed to have very little will-power of his own, but to leave every decision to his sister. He obediently extended an arm, and Anne took it, with Minette's leash on her left hand. What on earth shall we talk about? Anne wondered. But Lord Francis was equal to the challenge.

“Dog likes a walk,” he said.

“Yes, she does.”

“Nice little thing. Like bigger dogs, myself.”

“Gentlemen mostly do, I believe, sir.”

“Ha. Like a dog that can do something useful.”

“I think you mean hunting, sir, do you not?”

“Ha. This little thing wouldn't be much use after a fox, heh?”

“I think the fox would chase her, sir.”

“Haw, haw! Very good, Miss de Bourgh! The fox would chase her! Very good!” and Lord Francis threw back his head, and gave a loud, braying laugh. Anne, relieved at finding conversation so easy, looked up at him and laughed, too.

At that very moment, Edmund Caldwell came out of a side street, turned, and almost walked into them.

It was over in a flash. Anne had barely time for a startled glance, barely time to take her hand from Lord Francis' arm, and try to hold it out, but already he had sketched a bow, was past them, and gone down the street.

“Friend of yours?” Lord Francis said.

“A… an acquaintance sir.”

“Seems to be in the devil of a hurry.”

“Yes… yes… I think he did not see me.”

“I tell you what, Miss de Bourgh, if I saw you in the street, I wouldn't run by you in such a hurry, by Jove, no, I would not.”

Anne could have screamed with vexation!

That they should have met by such a chance, that they should have met at all—and then, not to be able to speak to him, to greet him, even! And that she should have been arm in arm with another gentleman—and this particular gentleman, as well— laughing with him, as though there were an understanding between them! Nothing could have been more unfortunate! Lord Francis went on talking—about what, she really had no idea, for she was saying “Yes,” and “No, indeed,” almost at random. They walked quite far into the countryside, far enough to return with weary ankles and spoiled shoes, but the magnificent scenery was wasted on Anne; she saw nothing, and it took her the rest of the day to recover her composure, and to reflect that, in the course of the next day, she might well meet Edmund, and would surely be able to rectify the misunderstanding.

If she had thought that Edmund might be there, the prospect of the assembly that evening would have held a good deal of suspense for her, but she knew that he would not be. Her best chance must be at church, on the following day—but then, what was she to say to him? “I do not really like Lord Francis, it was all a mistake"? Still, she would be at least able to greet him, to enquire after him, and of course his parents would probably be there, too; she could certainly talk to them… she must take care to come out of the church well behind her mother. She must dally a little, look at a tombstone or some such thing, so that with a little good luck, she might be able to greet him, to talk to him, to show him that she was still his friend!

This thought enabled Anne to enjoy the assembly. It was a far different affair from the Lambton assembly, where everybody knew everybody else, and many of those attending came from a quite modest sphere in life. Here, at a spa town, the company consisted, for the most part, of those wanting to make an impression on people they had, for the most part, never met before. Here, clothes were everything, for the eye is the easiest to impress, and many of those present had certainly spent more than they ought in the shops around the Promenade.

Happy was Lady Catherine, as she proceeded into the room, resplendent—nay, refulgent—in yellow satin, lace, and diamonds, and followed by two handsome young ladies, and two gentlemen. Mr Bennet had withstood, for twenty years, the arguments, the sighs, the pleadings of his wife, and never attended an assembly, but he was no match for Lady Catherine; she had forced him to attend. The Master of Ceremonies almost fell over himself in his deference, and his eagerness to greet them all. Even the Duchess and her brother did not command more attention. Lady Catherine did not dance, but she sat at the top of the room with the dancers circling below her, like the Presence itself. Anne danced a great deal, and Lord Francis danced with her twice, but she scarcely noticed her partners; she could only think of what the morrow might bring.

But all her conjecture was wasted: she did not see him at church. Arriving early, they were shown to a pew almost at the front. It was impossible to turn around, and look behind, and by the time they emerged, slowed up by the crush of people in front of them, most of the congregation had left. She tried to go to the evening service—Mrs Caldwell, she thought, might very probably be there—but she was prevented. “What are you thinking of, Anne?” her mother said. “You know that we are to drink tea with the Duchess,” and she was obliged to sit there, for hours, and endure all the insipidity of the Duchess' conversation and Lord Francis' near-silence.

The next morning, no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. At breakfast, Mr Bennet said, “If none of you object to waiting a little, I would be very glad to visit the famous bookstore.” Anne, ready to leave, and wishing for some fresh air, said she would go with him: “They would only take a few minutes, they would be back almost at once,” and on this understanding, the carriage was ordered, and Georgiana and the Colonel were happy to stroll around the Promenade with Lady Catherine. But who can take only a few minutes, in a bookstore? Anne was trying to decide which, of three beguiling new novels, she wished to buy, when she found herself addressed: “My dear Miss de Bourgh, how very pleasant to meet you here!” It was Mr Caldwell, Edmund's father.

She was delighted, and stammered a greeting and an enquiry after his family. Now she would hear, at least, how Edmund was. “We are all well, my dear, very well, and we have some news that I am sure will interest you,” Mr Caldwell said. “We are losing Edmund; he is going away.”

“Away? Why… how is this? Where? When?” Anne realized that she was stammering, and tried to bring her words into order. “You will certainly miss him… is it business that takes him? And when will he leave?”

“He is to set out for Barbados, in a month or so I am not precisely sure—he will go to Liverpool shortly, to enquire about a passage.”

“Barbados? But that is…”

“It is in the West Indies. Yes, an island in the West Indies. Does that not sound interesting, Miss de Bourgh? He has been thinking about it for some time, and did not seem sure, but yesterday—no, yesterday was Sunday, it was Saturday, it was the day before yesterday, he came to us and said that he had made up his mind, he should go.”

Mr Caldwell was delighted to tell her the particulars: the family had unexpectedly received word that they had inherited, from a distant kinsman, a property on the island, of which little was known except that it had been abandoned on the owner's death, and left unclaimed for some years. Edmund believed that something might be made of it; that he might live out there, and operate it; that at least it would pay him to go out there, see it, and if nothing could be done, make arrangements to sell it. His careful work on the quarry, he believed, had paid off; he could leave it under the control of a manager in whom he had confidence.

“His greatest concern,” Mr Caldwell said, “is that, with his views, he could not contemplate the operation of the place by the use of slave labour, for it still goes on, you know, though it should not; the trade still continues, though there are laws against it. But Edmund wants to discover if he might not run the place using paid workers. It seems there are many white men there, who lost their employment years ago when the plantation owners went over to owning slaves, and have been living in poverty ever since. Is not that a dreadful thing, Miss de Bourgh?”

Alas! Anne could learn very little of all she wanted to know; Mr Caldwell was far more interested in the burning issue of slavery than in the material business of his son's journey. She was able to learn the approximate date of his departure, but then her companion called to her; even Mr Bennet was aware that they had spent too much time, and must leave. Taking a rapid farewell of Mr Caldwell, with only just enough time to send her warmest wishes to Mrs Caldwell, “…and my… my compliments to your son, if you please,” she was forced to hurry away.

The farewells were cordial, promises were made to come back soon, it was a fine breezy day, and the journey back was a pleasant one. Anne heard nothing, saw nothing, and could not remember, later, in what terms she had taken leave of her mother. All the way back, she could think of nothing but what she had heard, and was trying to recall every word that Mr Caldwell had said, in case she forgot some circumstance, however trivial.

Edmund was leaving, Edmund was going away!

If only she had had more time to question Mr Caldwell, or even better, to go and see Mrs Caldwell, she could surely have found out more. He had decided, his father said, suddenly—and on the Saturday, the very day that he had met her, arm in arm with Lord Francis! But was that mere coincidence? Was she refining too much on her impressions? After all, she had no real proof of his affection for her; only that one conversation, that one gesture… it was very natural that a man, an ambitious man, should, on learning of such a bequest, decide on such an adventure.