servants have been enjoying doing it even more than I have.”
Anne looked aghast. “Which servants are you referring to?”
Henry spread each of his fingers out separately as he named the different servants.
“Hannibal, Rudyard, Crawford, Simon, and occasionally Wade. They remembered my remark
that Willie should go to Bedlam and have been adding to that insult ever since I first said it.
Hannibal has been especially mean.”
Anne took a deep breath so as to control any anger that she might possess, but she was
much more patient than she would have expected. “How do the other servants act when they
witness these men harassing your brother?” she asked Henry.
“They come to his defense and scold these men, but the men seldom listen to them.”
Anne sighed, bringing Lucifer close to her. “Well, perhaps they will listen to me when I
speak with them.” She looked down at Lucifer, smiling lovingly at him. “Willie, dear, would you
like to spend some time with your brother now? That may help you to feel better.”
Lucifer’s eyes slightly widened as they drifted from Anne’s face to Henry’s. He stared at
Henry for a few long moments before smiling slightly at him. Anne smiled at her youngest son,
running her hand over his hair before bending down to kiss him again.
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“There you are, dear. You go and have a fine time with Henry.”
Anne watched her two sons ascend the stairs before turning about. She glanced in the
direction of the drawing room where she had come upon her daughter, her eyes widening with
apprehension before she went in search of the servants whom Henry had mentioned.
September 1791
Roth finished his walk to the stables, where Henry had just returned from riding.
“Henry, it is a fine day for hunting,” Roth told him. “Game is roaming on every space of
land as far as the eye can see.”
The boy smiled, giving the reins of his horse to one of the servants. “Well, I would be
glad to accompany you, Father.”
Roth grinned, glancing around before looking at Henry again. “Where is Lucifer?”
He paused. “When Penn took Tyler out for me, I saw him enter one of the horses’ stalls,
but I’m not certain if he is there now.”
Frowning, Roth stepped forward to enter the barn, where he saw Lucifer in one of the
horses’ stalls, petting and talking gently to the animal. The man cleared his throat.
“Lucifer,” he called out to the boy, his voice tender, “Henry and I were about to go
hunting. Would you like to join us?”
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Lucifer glanced at his father quickly before turning his attention back to the horse. He
shook his head solemnly. “No, sir,” he mumbled.
Roth’s features appeared pleading as he stepped further into the building. “Please, son.
The last time that Henry and I went hunting, you said that you might come with us when we did
it again. We would heartily enjoy your company, and I believe that it would be good for you.
Come along.”
Lucifer shook his head quickly, finally holding full eye contact with Roth. “No, thank
you. I…would prefer to stay here with the horses.”
Roth sighed, his eyes casting downward. “Are you certain, son? You will not change
your mind?”
Lucifer shook his head once more before turning his back to Roth to continue nurturing
the horse. Disappointed, Roth strode slowly outside to a waiting Henry.
“Very well, Henry,” he said quietly. “Let’s prepare for the trip.”
At the mansion, Anne was preparing to visit Wainwright. As she descended the staircase
with her purse and shawl, she glanced anxiously around her to ascertain whether or not Grace
was bound to show herself before her. She stood tautly in place for several moments, exhaling
with some relief as she finally went toward the doorway. Then, she heard swift footsteps and a
childish voice calling out to her.
“Mama! Mama, wait!”
Halting immediately, anxiety tightening her muscles, Anne slowly turned to look at her
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daughter, who was presently galloping down the staircase, her face white. Anne frowned when
she observed this, in spite of herself.
I hope that nothing is wrong.
Grace gradually slowed into a walk when she was near Anne and then stopped abruptly
before her. “Mama, Rose has been very ill for the last few days. She’s been coughing and I
believe she has a fever. Right now she’s just sitting on my bed! What do we do?”
Anne opened her mouth in shock, momentarily forgetting about her fear of her daughter
as she spoke. “We will send for Dr. York immediately.” She turned about and caught sight of the
servant Hannibal. “Hannibal, fetch Dr. York right away. Rose is quite ill.”
The man glared at Anne for a couple of moments before nodding curtly and hurrying
outside to the stables.
Dr. York came out of Rose’s bedroom quietly, closing the door behind him. He looked
seriously at Anne, Grace, and the other maids as they stood looking at him with anxious eyes.
“I am afraid that Rose is quite ill with pneumonia,” he said somberly. Hope gasped and
Anne covered her mouth with a hand. “She will not be able to work for quite a while, as rest is
essential for her recovery. I would also recommend bloodletting as a kind of treatment. I can
contact a barber so he can do this for her, if that is all right with you, Mrs. Parnell.” He turned to
Anne in question.
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She blinked, rubbing her hands together. “Yes, of course, Dr. York. Please do whatever
you can for her.”
The physician nodded. “Very well, then. I know of a barber who is a friend of mine; I’m
certain that he would be well suited for the task. Oh, yes, Mrs. Parnell-Rose is resting now, but
she said that she would like to see you alone in her room.”
Anne’s eyebrows lifted, but she nodded accordingly and went into her maid’s small
bedroom by herself. After closing the door behind her, she hastened to Rose’s bed and knelt
down beside her.
“Rose? How are you feeling?”
The woman’s eyes blinked open tiredly and she smiled at Anne, her face drawn with
illness. “Anne, dearest,” she began hoarsely, “I wanted to tell you that since I will not be able to
care for Grace as diligently as I did before I contracted this illness, you must strive to take more
interest into the child, for her sake. I know that it is difficult for you to do so, but you must
consider Grace’s feelings.” She suddenly produced a handkerchief from underneath the bed’s
blankets, pressed it to her mouth and coughed miserably into it. When the coughing had
subsided, she looked at Anne and smiled dolefully. “It may not be such a good idea for you to be
so near to me.”
Anne chuckled, clasping her maid’s hand. “I have hardly ever been ill in my life, Rose, so
I somehow doubt that I will catch pneumonia myself.” She sighed, her voice becoming quiet. “I
know that I must take more interest in my daughter, whether or not you have become ill, and all I
can say is that I will strive to do as you advise.”
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Rose exhaled, smiling with joy at her mistress. “I am very glad to hear that, Anne. You
know that I just want you and Grace to get along well with each other. She loves you very much,
and longs to be your friend.” She once again broke into a fit of coughing.
Anne nodded, standing. “I understand. I suppose I should leave you to rest now. But
Rose, I believe that I would like to become close to Grace more than I feel I do, and so I promise
that I will strive to talk to her more and spend time with her. I know that I need to love her, and I
will strive to.”
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25 Tensions
Anne walked quietly out of Rose’s bedroom and closed the door securely behind her.
Slowly drawing a breath, she forced herself to look at Grace, who stared at her mother with love
and curiosity. Feeling fearful again at the sight of her, Anne’s body grew taut and she resisted the
urge to turn and run away. Swallowing painfully, she glanced at her maids and Dr. York.
“Rose is resting now. She is a strong person; I have faith that she will successfully
recover.”
“As do I,” said the physician. “But it is essential that we leave her to rest now. I will
arrange for the barber to come within the next week. He is a very reliable man and I am certain
that he will perform the bloodletting well. This procedure will help Rose to recover quicker.”
“Is it dangerous?” Hope asked anxiously.
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“Not necessarily. It may be painful, but it really is for the best. Well, I will now take my
leave, if you will excuse me, Mrs. Parnell.” He bowed politely to her and she smiled.
“Thank you very much, Dr. York.”
Hope looked at Anne. “Well, let us hope and pray that Rose will happily recover. I
suppose that we had better continue our work.” She and Clara curtsied to Anne and Grace and
walked away while Kim smiled down at Grace, offering her hand to her.
“Come, Grace, we must leave Rose alone now. Now you are not to worry; she will be
just fine.”
“Kim, thank you, but…but I would like to speak with Grace for a moment,” Anne spoke
bravely, moistening her lips in anxiety. Nodding understandably, Kim curtsied and hurried away
after the other women. Grace turned to Anne, her face animated at the fact that her mother was
willing to speak with her. She looked joyfully at her.
“What did you want to say, Mama?”
Anne suddenly became aware that she was alone with the daughter whom she was so
afraid of. Her heart pounded in her throat and her face slowly turned pale as it gathered
perspiration, for she had seldom been alone with Grace before. Her muscles trembled, but her
heart collected as much courage as it could and she willed her eyes to remain on Grace. Her
mouth began to nervously articulate.
“G-Grace, Rose is quite ill. Thus, she will not be able to…to care for you like she always
did before…”
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“Does that mean you and I are going to be spending more time with each other, Mama?”
Grace cried ecstatically, clasping her hands together with excitement, her features triumphant.
Anne started as tears of anxiety began to form in her eyes. Her feet prepared themselves
to move away from the scene, but the remembrance of the promise that she had made to Rose as
well as her own will to show more love toward Grace compelled her to stay where she was. She
could not, however, induce herself to become calmer in the sight of her daughter. Forcing her
lips into a difficult smile, she nodded continuously.
“Yes…my dear. I would be glad to be able to spend additional time with you.”
Gasping with happiness, Grace ran to Anne and embraced her tightly. “Oh, I am so
happy, Mama!” she exclaimed, and Anne was a bit horrified to discover that her young daughter
was crying. “I’ve wanted to spend time with you for such a long time, and now my wish will
finally come true! Oh, we will have such a fine time together! I’m so happy!” She nestled her
face into Anne’s skirts, her face beaming as the tears flowed down her cheeks.
Seeing Grace’s great show of joy inspired more fear and anxiety within Anne’s being
instead of giving her satisfaction and happiness as well, but for the child’s sake she smiled as
wonderfully as she could. She strove to keep from flinching at Grace’s touch and almost
considered petting the child’s head in response, but then she thought that doing so would
inevitably persuade her to flee. Thus, she simply stood and smiled down at her daughter, her
heart gradually pounding faster.
“Very well, dear.” Anne glanced longingly in the direction that her maids and the
physician had gone before reluctantly resting her eyes on Grace again. “Shall we leave now so
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that Rose might get some rest?”
The little girl looked at Anne and nodded happily, her face dressed in a glorious smile.
Stepping back, she enclosed her hand in Anne’s. That woman felt faint disappointment when this
happened, for she had hoped to walk away with Grace following or striding alongside her, but
she tried to grin and compose herself as she left the area with her hand in her daughter’s.
A few afternoons following, Grace followed her brother Henry around the property with
an indignant air.
“But Henry, you told me yesterday that you would take me with you to go riding. You
promised me!”
“Yes, Grace, I know that I did, but that was before I knew that Father was going to Bath
today, and he wants me to go along with him. I have been entertaining such an idea for a long
time and you know that. You and I will have to go riding tomorrow.”
“Henry, I have to study tomorrow! Why are you acting like this? You made me a
promise, and you always say that promises are meant to be kept!” She stopped suddenly,
gasping. Frowning, Henry stopped as well and looked wonderingly at his sister, whose face
distorted with disgust and contempt. She slowly walked toward Henry to look at him, her brown
eyes boring into his.
“Henry,” she whispered, “is Papa forcing you to go with him?”
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The boy exclaimed revoltingly, his face deluging with anger, but he was now quite aware
of Grace’s opinion of their father and was not shocked at what she said. Nevertheless, he glared
at her. “I wish that you would cease speaking of Father like that, Grace,” he said quietly,
attempting to control his temper. “He is not forcing me to do anything, do you understand?”
“Then why do you sound like him?” she insisted, her tone of voice betraying some of her
stored hatred for Roth. “It’s not like you to break a promise to someone. That sounds like
something Papa would do instead. I believe that you are spending too much time with him.”
Henry closed his eyes. His face turned red with anger, but he slowly exhaled to calm
himself before looking at Grace again, his expression appearing a bit sorry now.
“All right, Grace. Perhaps I do spend a sufficient amount of time with Father and I have
unintentionally acquired a couple of his habits and ways. I apologize. I should not have broken
my promise to you; that was wrong of me. However, I declare that Father does not regularly
break his promises to others, despite of what you say.”
Grace’s face lit up, apparently not taking heed of her brother’s last words. “How grand!
Does this mean that you will take me riding today?”
“Yes, I suppose it does. But I will have to tell Father that I cannot go with him. I will do
that now.”
“Oh, Henry, why don’t you let me speak with him?”
He looked at her strangely for a moment before laughing harshly, fury and disbelief
filling his expression. “Why would you want to do that? You seem to hate him with your whole
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heart.”
“I do,” Grace answered carelessly, ignoring her brother’s reaction to her reply. “That is
why I want to speak with him. I thought if I told him how mean and terrible he is, especially to
Mama, he might ponder what I say and change his ways.”
“And do you also intend to rebuke and abuse him in every way possible? Do not think I
believe that you will not try to harm Father in every way that you can, Grace!” Henry yelled,
outraged. “If you are not going to obey me when I tell you not to speak badly of Father when he
isn’t near, then I most certainly will not allow you to when you are in front of him!”
“Henry, please let me do it.” Grace took hold of his arm, but he violently jerked it out of
her grasp. “Someone needs to tell Papa what kind of a man he is and I keep telling you that I am
going to do it soon.”
“No, you absolutely will not,” he said firmly. “I will see that you do not. Now you will
stay right here until I come back from letting Father know about my mind.” He then turned and
strode away, feeling so full of anger that he found it unbelievable that he kept from physically
abusing his sister.
That evening, Grace traveled to the drawing room to find Anne sitting in her regular
chair, knitting. The child’s eyes filled with distress as she moved forward.
“Mama, we’ve hardly done anything together these past few days,” she complained,
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kneeling by her mother’s chair and looking at her pleadingly. “Please, can we do something
together now?”
Anne had become a bit frightened when Grace had entered the room and petrified when
she had heard her voice, her eyes resting on her work. Her pose had remained like this while
Grace was drawing near and cold perspiration had gathered onto her pale skin. Since she had told
Grace that she would be spending more time with her, Anne and her daughter had only gone
riding on an afternoon a couple of days before. Although the experience had been nothing less
than wonderful for Grace, Anne’s anxiety and fear had become so severe that she had hardly said
a word during the interval, smiled forcibly and emptily and afterward secured herself in her
bedroom to cry bitterly. She now felt so miserable about the prospect of spending time with
Grace that she nearly regretted promising Rose that she would care for her like a good mother
would, for she was beginning to realize that it really was impossible to bond with Grace, as she
simply could not forget how the child came to be. Now, as she felt her child gaze gently at her
from her place on the floor, it was all Anne could do to keep from standing abruptly and going
out of the drawing room as quickly as possible. Moments after Grace knelt beside her she
moistened her lips, struggling to summon the courage to speak.
“I’m afraid not. I am knitting right now,” she said so quickly that the words were almost
incomprehensible.
“But Mama, I see you knit nearly every day,” Grace returned. She stood and wrapped her
hands around Anne’s still ones, her grasp gentle and loving. Anne’s eyes stung with tears, but
she could not bring herself to even glance at Grace.
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“Please, Mama. Rose is ill, and you said that you would spend more time with me
because she is.”
“Won’t it…is it not time for you to go to bed yet?” Anne asked dumbly, quite aware that
the sun had not even set. Nonetheless, she wished to part with Grace right away.
The child giggled, glancing at the room’s clock. “Of course not, Mama. It is only seven
o’clock. Do you want to play something?”
Anne inhaled shakily, slowly taking up her knitting again. She spoke very quietly,
wanting Grace to go away but also not wanting to offend the child.
“I’m sorry, Grace, but… I would like to knit now. Please allow me to; I should like to get
this scarf completed.”
Anne’s conscience reproached her again when she felt Grace’s eyes fill with hurt and
pure confusion.
“Why, Mama?” the poor child implored. “Why do you knit now when you can later?
Please, can’t we play just one game?”
Anne’s face turned in pain, the emotions in her heart being composed of both guilt and
desperation. She worked faster, trying to ignore Grace’s stare. “I…don’t think so. Not now. But
perhaps later…” Suddenly a thought came across her mind and she actually looked at her
daughter for a couple of moments. “Why not play with Willie? He needs to enjoy himself more.”
Grace narrowed her eyes in thought. “I believe he’s sleeping right now. Anyway, I really
just wanted to play with you.”
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Anne’s heart sank as her lit expression dissipated and her eyes dropped to her knitting
again. She swallowed, her heart filling with sorrow with a painful slowness as her eyes continued
to collect moisture. “Well, I do not wish to play now,” she almost whispered, hoping fervently
that Grace would leave after hearing such words. She heard the child sigh with sadness and
disappointment.
“All right, Mama,” she murmured, tears falling from her eyes, her head bowed. She lifted
it to look at her mother once more before slowly turning and leaving the drawing room. When
she was out of Anne’s sight, she dried her tears with a melancholy disposition before rebuking
herself with great fervor.
Why am I crying? I should not be so selfish. Mama doesn’t want to spend time with me
right now, but she probably will later. How can I think about myself so much? It is very wrong of
me. There are times that I don’t feel like playing with anyone, and now Mama is just feeling that
way. I will now visit Rose, and Mama and I can spend time with each other later.
Feeling considerably better, Grace turned in the direction of the maid’s room, but in
turning she caught sight of Roth, who was slowly descending the staircase. Upon seeing him, the
hatred flowed from her heart and she glared repugnantly at him. For a few moments he did not
take note of her, but when he did his steps slowed slightly and he grinned a smile at her that
Grace thought was not entirely true.
“Ah, Grace. What are you doing?”
Her stare hardened. “I don’t see how that is your affair,” she coldly replied.
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“Now, you are not to speak to me in that tone, child,” Roth said strictly, his steps coming
to a stop on the stairs. He gazed at her, his expression disturbed and a bit angry. “And it is my
affair what kind of activities you indulge in, Grace. You are my daughter, after all. Learn to
respect your elders.”
Grace did not say anything, but her harsh eyes remained on her father as he gradually
neared the place where she was.
“So,” he said as he strolled near her, “what are you doing?”
Grace’s quick observance realized the repeated question and the way in which it was
obstinately asked the latter time and she crossed her arms, staring at him with an unbelievable
disgust.
“Why do you want to know what I’m doing?” she snapped.
Roth chuckled punitively, his temper barely in check as he stared at her with wonder and
fury. “I was simply curious, young lady. What right do you think you have in speaking to me like
this? Can you and I ever be on friendly terms with each other?”
Grace laughed, all childish innocence gone from her face. Her voice was hard as she
spoke.
“Well, Papa, that would depend on how well you begin to treat Mama.”
Roth threw up his arms, the anger in his eyes now burning passionately. “What on earth
are you talking of? How does your mother have any part in this?”
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“Oh, do not think I am so blind!” Grace yelled, the hatred in her young eyes almost
frightening. “I know how you treat her, and it is very wrong. When she is near you, you treat her
like she was very inferior, and when she isn’t near you say many untrue and unkind things about
her. It is no wonder why she hates you and avoids you. You have made her life miserable, and
you have also said something to her about me, or otherwise she wouldn’t be so afraid