mother never attends to her?”
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Anne stood upon her feet hastily, tears flowing down her face as she stared at
Rose with widened eyes. “I do not know what she will grow to be like, but I declare once more
that I will not have any part with her. It is impossible for you to truly comprehend what Roth
took from me on that day and…” Gulping, she shuddered at the memory. “…and what he gave
me, what he forced me to carry.” She glanced longingly toward the room’s doorway like she had
while kept in her bedroom on that fateful morning with an infuriated Roth eight years ago.
“Rose, please go away and stop bothering me about this matter.”
Rose lifted her chin in stubbornness and moved to stand before Anne. “No, I most
certainly will not. Anne, place yourself in Grace’s position and think about how that child must
feel. Do you really want her to be neglected and unloved by you for the rest of her life?”
Anne’s tears continued to flow, but her expression was sullen and impregnable. “I
never knew my mother, so it is difficult for me to feel empathetic for Grace. And I certainly do
not want to continue to treat her like this, but I’m afraid that I cannot do otherwise.”
Rose grabbed her mistress’s hands suddenly, happiness and hope welling in her
eyes. “There you are, Anne! If you have a will to cease abandoning Grace, then you can come to
love her just as you love your other children.”
Anne shook her head fiercely. “No, Rose, I cannot.”
“Yes! Yes, Anne, you can.” She pressed her hands together with Anne’s, staring
at her with great encouragement. “If you believe and tell yourself repeatedly that you can
overcome your fears, I know that you can.”
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“But my fear of Grace is more powerful than my will to treat her better. There is
nothing that can destroy it.”
“Anne, please.” Rose stared pleadingly at her, holding her hands tightly. “Please
try. For Grace’s sake. I promise that I will help you in any way that I can. Please. I simply
cannot bear to see that child so dejected and hurt anymore.”
Anne writhed her hands away from Rose’s grasp, clearing her tears away quickly.
Her expression was upset but immovable. “I am sorry, Rose, and I am sorry for Grace as well.
You must believe that I have tried to give her what she wants, but it has been to no avail. I’m
sorry that Grace must continue to live in the manner that she has, but I’m afraid that is the way it
must be.” Before her maid could answer her, Anne stepped around Rose and hastened out of the
drawing room.
July 1793
Grace sat inside the mansion, gazing out of a window in anxious wait for Anne to
return from her horse ride. When she saw the iron gate to the property open and a horse trotting
through it with Anne saddled atop, she scurried out of her seat and ran to the stables.
“Mama!” she called when she was quite near to her mother. “Mama, you must
come quickly. Rose is ill again!”
Anne turned slowly to look at Grace, absently handing the horse’s reins to one of
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the servants. Her face’s regular portrayal of fear of her daughter turned into wonder and great
concern for Rose.
“Ill? With what?”
“Pneumonia. That is what Dr. York said, and she seems to be much sicker than
she was before. You must come at once.”
Nodding, Anne hurried after Grace to Rose’s bedroom. Kim, Clara, Hope, Roth
and Dr. York were standing outside of it. When the physician saw Anne he looked grimly at her
and she became alarmed.
“Dr. York. What is the matter with Rose?”
“Pneumonia has struck her once more, I’m afraid, Mrs. Parnell, and the case is
much worse this time. I am very sorry to tell you this, but it is quite possible that she will not
recover.”
Anne gasped, tears stinging her eyes as she covered her mouth with a pale hand.
She looked at the others. The three maids appeared upset and shocked, Grace quietly cried and
Roth stood with his arms crossed, his expression serious and slightly indifferent. Anne
swallowed and moistened her lips.
“Isn’t there anything that can be done?” she asked the physician, her tone
desperate and distraught. “What about the bloodletting treatment that you prescribed?”
“I could certainly ask Mr. Abbott to perform that task for Rose again, but I cannot
say how helpful it will be this time. Rose’s lungs are full of fluid and she has a very high fever.
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Matters do not appear to be good for her.” He turned his head to look with equal sympathy at
everyone in the hall. “I really am very sorry. Now if you will excuse me, I must go back to see
how Rose is faring now.” He turned and went into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind
him.
Kim held out her arms to Grace and the grieving child abruptly went into that
woman’s embrace. Hope and Clara petted her head soothingly while Roth shifted restlessly from
one foot to the other and then turned to walk away. Anne stared at him with horror.
“Roth, where are you going? Rose needs all of our love and support right now.”
The man looked at Anne, his expression cold and stoic. He smiled crudely at her.
“Quite obviously there is nothing that can be done for our maid, and I am occupied with
matters.”
Hope glared at him, enraged and forgetting for the moment that she was a servant.
“How can you be so unfeeling? One of your valuable, hard-working servants is gravely ill and
you are going along with the affairs in your life as if nothing is wrong? What kind of a man are
you?”
Kim pressed gently on Hope’s arm to calm her, but she paid no heed. Roth
glanced at her, grinning evilly.
“You are brave to speak to me in that tone, woman. However, you are quite right.
I have no heart at all.” He smiled as if saying this made him very joyful before turning and
walking from their sight.
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Hope shook her head in disgust, tears spouting from her eyes. “I simply cannot
believe how hideous that man is.”
“Neither can I,” Kim grimly replied. “And it seems that he becomes worse with
each passing day.”
“Yes, he certainly does,” Grace said bitterly through her tears, her eyes sparkling
with hatred. She clenched her fists. “And why isn’t he concerned for Rose? She is a much better
person than he has ever been. As a matter of fact, Papa is the one who should be dying, not
Rose!” The child burst into passionate tears and buried her face into Kim’s skirt, who stroked the
little girl’s head whilst gazing down at her with some surprise.
“Now, Grace, you don’t mean to say that.”
“Of course I do!” she cried angrily, lifting her face to look at Kim with a vengeful
expression. “I wish that he was dead!”
The three maids appeared surprised and distressed that Grace had spoken of Roth
in such a way, even as aware as they had all been of her opinion of him, but before any of them
could say anything Dr. York stepped out of the bedroom and looked at Anne.
“Mrs. Parnell, Rose is requesting to speak with you privately.”
Anne’s eyes widened as she wondered what her servant and friend had to say to
her now. “Are you certain that it’s fine if I go to her?” she asked nervously.
“For a brief visit, yes. She is having a bit of difficulty speaking, but she says that
she must speak with you alone.”
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Anne nodded and stepped silently into Rose’s room, allowing the physician to
close the door behind her. When she saw Rose lying on her bed, her face drawn and pale and her
eyes closed, a great swell of emotion surged within her and she thought that she would start
crying without stop until Rose slowly opened her eyes and turned her head on the pillow to smile
gently at Anne. She held out a feeble hand to her.
“Anne, dear.” She produced a handkerchief and coughed pitifully into it for a
while before struggling to take a breath to speak again. “Come here, dear.”
With tears already streaming down her cheeks, Anne strode to the bed and knelt
beside it, clutching Rose’s hand. She looked softly at her friend, grief rending her face.
“Oh, Rose, I can’t believe your illness came back. It is horrid. I wish there was
something that could be done for you.”
Rose smiled, caressing Anne’s hand. “There, Anne, it… is all right. I did not think
I would die like this, but… the good Lord must have decided… that it’s time for me to go home.
He does know what’s best, you know.”
“No, Rose, please don’t talk like that. There must be something that Dr. York can
do for you. This can’t be the end for you.” She pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep
from crying too ardently. “Rose, I have already lost Guin, a dear friend to me. I cannot lose you
as well.”
She smiled before clasping her mistress’s hand. “You shall never lose me, Anne. I
will forever be in your heart and your… memories. Anyway, I accept that my time is near and I
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wish…I wish that you would also. Now, the rea…the reason why I called you in here is because
I needed to speak with you about…taking care of Grace when I am gone.”
Anne’s expression was combined with pain, sorrow and fear, but she tried to
smile and held her maid’s hand more tightly.
“Now you needn’t exhaust yourself with further speaking, Rose. I promise that I
will continue to try to love and befriend Grace.”
“Yes, dear, but I want you to be successful. You must gather all of the motivation
that you feel within yourself and…direct it toward loving and forming a close bond with Grace. I
know how hard this is for you, but…please. Do it for my sake. It is the last wish that I will make
in this world, so…” She coughed suddenly into the handkerchief, her face turning paler as her
hand relaxed and her eyes gradually began to close. “Please, Anne. She really is…a special child.
Please love and take good care of her…just as I did…for my sake…”
Anne was silent for several moments, thinking about what Rose had said. She
thought of her great fear of her daughter and her love and respect for her maid and she knew that
her love could defeat her fear. Thus, with a tender smile, she brought Rose’s hand to her lips and
kissed it.
“I will do as you wish, Rose,” she whispered. “I will not disappoint you. I
promise that you will be happy with me.”
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September 1793
Anne sat alone in her bedroom by the window, looking outside with a glum
expression as the dark clouds in the sky continuously showered rain. The family and servants had
recently returned from Rose’s interment and Anne had needed to be alone to collect her thoughts.
She smiled gently as her mind concentrated on her deceased friend, though her eyes filled with
tears.
Dear Rose was almost as precious to me as Guin was. Well, like Guin, she is gone
now. I must respect her wish and love Grace with my whole heart, especially since she seems to
be affected by her death more than anyone else.
Anne knew great fear and nervousness when she even thought of speaking with
her daughter, but when she thought about how much she had loved Rose her apprehensions
dissipated. Joyfully she stood from her seat, walked out of the room and descended the stairs,
actually looking for Grace now. She found her in the drawing room, staring bleakly into the fire
in the hearth. Upon seeing her Anne felt her old fears rise within her again, but she let her love
spread over such emotions and defeat them; thus, she gained great courage and stopped a short
distance behind Grace before speaking to her.
“Grace?”
The child turned and smiled grandly when she saw Anne, though her face was
tear-stained. Without a word she stood and walked toward her mother to embrace her.
Involuntarily Anne’s body grew tense once again at the child’s touch, much to her
disappointment.
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No, it is fine, she thought resolutely. I knew from the beginning that this was not
going to be simple. It may be difficult for me, but gradually Grace and I will become as close as
Rose ever wanted us to be.
Ignoring her growing insecurity, Anne knelt down and looked at Grace with
tenderness and sympathy, gathering bravery as she thought of Rose.
“Grace, I know how upset you are because of Rose’s death, and I just want to let
you know that I am here to comfort and help you. I know how close you were to her and I am
very sorry that you had to experience such a loss.”
She sniffed and ran a hand across her wet eyes. “Yes, Mama, I miss her very
much.”
“Yes, dear, I know. But we can persevere through this if we just talk and confide
in one another, and I will spend as much time with you as Rose ever did.”
The little girl’s eyebrows raised as her grieved eyes filled with hope and great
happiness. She slowly inhaled, not daring to wish for too much after the many times that her
mother had destroyed her hopes. “You will, Mama? Really? Do you promise?”
Anne nodded with certainty, feeling the glowing, satisfying warmth of her love,
which had the strength to induce her to feel totally different toward her daughter. “Yes, Grace-I
promise that I will. And I am very sorry for not doing activities with you before when I said that
I would.”
“Oh, Mama, that doesn’t matter now!” The child happily enfolded her arms
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around Anne once more, crying with joy. “I’m so happy that we are finally going to be
together!”
Anne smiled with more pleasure than she thought she would have had as she
stayed rigidly in place, but as the moments passed she lifted her hand to place it gently upon
Grace’s arm. “So am I, dear,” she murmured contentedly.
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27 The Regression
January 1794
Grace happily skipped to the foot of the staircase, dressed in a winter’s coat and
scarf. She peered in the direction of Anne’s bedroom.
“Mama, are you ready yet? I want to go before it gets colder outside.”
“Yes, I will be ready soon,” Anne hesitantly answered her daughter from her
bedroom as she sat in a chair sewing her own scarf, for one of Roth’s dogs had found and taken
hold of it since the previous winter had passed. She and Grace were about to go outside to skate
on the ice-covered Avon, though Anne fancied that Grace anticipated the event more than she
did. Since Rose passed and Anne promised her daughter that she would spend more time with
her, the woman had felt less eager and happy to do so with each passing day. No matter how
hard she tried to keep her spirits high and her memories of being afraid and anxious of Grace
from overtaking her, she feared that her determination to fulfill Rose’s last wish was quickly
dissipating and she was becoming a victim of the memory of what Roth did to her once again. At
times she was quite upset when she realized these apprehensions, but she suspected that it had
not been right to suddenly begin to spend so much time with her daughter when she had
promised that she would. The more time that they spent with each other every day, the longer the
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little girl remained in Anne’s thoughts at the end of the day, and soon she began to enter her
dreams as well. Within several weeks of beginning to engage in more activities with Grace,
Anne saw her being presented negatively in her mind while she slept. After a couple of months
since changing her attitude toward her daughter, she began to wake in the middle of the night
breathing laboriously, perspiring greatly and crying because her imagination had made her live
through the horrendous occurrences of that October morning once more. She tried to remember
her love for Rose whilst her fears and anxieties about Grace threatened to return ten-fold, but
even when she was successful at this, she knew that her bad dreams about the child would only
become more frequent if she continued to spend time with her. Now Anne ceased her sewing to
reflect upon the situation, her countenance upset.
I know what I promised Rose before she died, and I have kept that promise. I
simply don’t know if I can continue to, even while knowing that she would want me to never stop
trying to get close to Grace. These dreams that I have been experiencing have been very
terrifying; perhaps I should not be so distressed about such imaginings, but what if they become
worse or I become mad from such a horrid memory? She shuddered at the thought, tears slowly
forming in her eyes. I cannot be with Grace anymore. It was well for a while, but I never thought
that my feelings about spending time with her would combine with my imagination and induce
my mind to resurrect the memory so clearly in my unconscious mind. I’m certain that Rose
would have been happy of my success with Grace through the past four months and I would
definitely like to keep on as I have, but I cannot. It is impossible to truly possess any kind of
friendship with Grace, just as I always knew it was.
Tears ran freely down Anne’s face now, but she solemnly dried them away as she
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continued sewing her scarf.
However, I cannot suddenly stop spending time with Grace, for that would be
even more hurtful to her. I will go ice-skating with her now, but after that I will begin to refuse
when she asks to do activities with me. She sniffed, blinking rapidly. If Rose were here, I just
hope she would understand. She was the one who was truly meant to be Grace’s mother.
March 1794
Grace slowly made her way up the staircase and walked solemnly to Henry’s
bedroom, where the lad was reading. She stopped in the doorway, leaning against it and staring
torpidly at her brother’s turned back. Within a few moments he lifted his eyes from his book,
cleared his throat and stood up from his desk, and upon turning he caught sight of Grace. He
looked at her inquiringly.
“Grace. Was there something you wanted?”
She shook her head, stepping unhurriedly into the room. “I just wanted to have
someone to talk to.” Her eyes filled with slight bafflement and sadness. “Mama’s head is aching,
so she doesn’t want to spend time with me now.”
“Well, I do apologize, but I’m afraid that I won’t be able to talk with you for a
long time. I will soon be going to Bath with Percival.”
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“Oh.” The child appeared disappointed as she cast her eyes outside of the room.
“Do you know where Willie is? Perhaps he wants to do something with me.”
“I’m not certain where he is right now.” Contempt and bitterness showed in his
features as he began again to read the book that was laid open upon the desk. “I would suggest
that you spend time with Father, but I am quite aware of your opinion of him.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I would rather do something by myself than be with
him. But isn’t he going with you?”
“No, only Percival and I are going. I am quite old enough to embark on these trips
by myself, you know.”
The little girl smiled softly before looking at him with childish eyes. “That’s right.
Henry, you’re eighteen years old now. When will you decide to court someone?”
The lad chuckled critically before closing his book and turning to face her. “I am
presently occupied with more vital matters, Grace. Courting is as distant from my mind as it can
be.”
She grinned, tying her hands behind her back and casting her eyes sadly upon the
floor. “Henry, do you think Mama has been acting differently through these past weeks?”
He frowned. “No, her behavior seems to be the same as it always was. Why?”
“Because she’s not spending as much time with me as she did before!” the child
exclaimed, staring at him with hurting eyes. “For a few months we were spending time with each
other nearly every day, but a while ago she began to make excuses so she wouldn’t have to be
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with me, just like she did before…before Rose died. I don’t know what happened, but she seems
to be very afraid of me. Oh, Henry, why does she treat me like this? And why doesn’t she want
to be with me anymore? I don’t understand any of this and I hate it! What am I supposed to do?”
Henry had listened to his sister’s outburst with surprised attentiveness, and as she
had questioned him in despair, an expression of compassion mingled with pity and sensibility
had come upon his face. He hesitated before speaking, trying to find the right words to say. The
lad had likewise been unaware of why their mother treated Grace the way that she did, but a
certain part of his intelligence suggested to him that she simply did not love her like she loved
him and Lucifer. However, he knew that he could not verbalize such an idea to Grace.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Grace,” he said slowly. “Mother does love you,
though-you have to believe that.”
“That is what everyone tells me,” she grumbled. “But no one seems willing to tell
me what happened to Mama that