Anne by Carmen Stevens - HTML preview

“I see. How about I stop in your doorway and pay her a visit?”

Just then a wearied, young woman appeared in the doorway and saw Anne.

Immediately her features brightened and she went to her, holding out her hands.

“Oh, Anne, how wonderful to see you,” she warmly said. Anne reached for her

hands and grasped them.

“Thank you, Hannah; it’s lovely to see you as well. And merry Christmas.”

Hannah sighed, crossing her arms and glancing at her home. “Thank you, but I

fear that joy may be a bit sparse in our home this year.” She stepped closer to Anne, lowering her

voice to a fearful whisper. “You see, my husband continues to have drinking problems, and

though he hasn’t swallowed a drop of liquor for several days I fear that he will very soon, and

when he becomes intoxicated I fear that he will be angrier than ever before and abuse Jude and I

without end.” Her hands twisted together with anxiety, but Anne laid a comforting hand on them.

“Now, Hannah, you mustn’t think so negatively. Jude tells me that the atmosphere

in your home is quite well at the moment, and I believe that he is truthful in saying so. You must

be thankful that your husband hasn’t drunk for a while and hope and pray that he will recover

from all of his problems soon. Pray to God, dear; He will take good care of your family. You see,

517

I have a bit of experience with alcohol-loving men as well; my father drank all of the time. Do

you think that it would help if I spoke with Benjamin?”

“Oh, no thank you, Anne-you do enough for Jude and I, and I should take heed of

your good advice, for you are correct. I should take my anxieties to the Lord and let Him take

care of our problems. Thank you for reminding me of this, Anne, and thank you for coming here

to ensure that Jude had a happy holiday. You are truly caring and wonderful, one of the most

gracious people that I have ever met.”

Anne smiled, her eyes distant as she gently stroked Jude’s head. “I wasn’t always

like this,” she murmured softly.

518

32 “Love is Loyal”

January 1805

Anne sat comfortably in the drawing room one afternoon, her eyes concentrated

on the woolen fabric that she was knitting. Kim came into the room then, clearing her throat and

curtsying.

“Excuse me, dear Anne. Are you ready for tea?”

519

Anne glanced up at her, her brow perspiring slightly. She smiled tiredly. “Yes,

Kim, thank you very much. You may bring it in.”

Kim frowned, looking at her mistress closely. “Anne, are you all right? You look

somewhat exhausted.”

She chuckled, taking up her knitting again. “I’m fine. I didn’t sleep very well last

night, that’s all, and this stocking is proving to be quite difficult, for some reason. But I’m sure I

will sleep better tonight.”

Kim smiled. “Very well, dear. I will bring your tea.”

Anne continued knitting, sighing happily when her work became easier after a

couple of minutes. She took out her handkerchief and mopped her forehead with it, and then a

strange urge rose in her lungs and she covered her mouth with the fabric, coughing several times

into it. A small wave of fatigue came over her shortly after, and she laid her work upon her lap

and sat back on the sofa, her eyes closing.

“Strange,” she murmured to herself. “I suppose that I am a bit ill. I must have

caught a cold.”

She heard Kim’s footsteps approach and then stop abruptly in the room doorway.

“Anne, are you all right?”

Anne opened her eyes and turned them sleepily toward her maid. “Yes, Kim, I’m

fine. I just feel a bit weak. Would you please bring the tea to my bedroom? I would like to rest in

there for a while.”

520

“Why, certainly.” She set her tray upon the table in the room and stepped toward

Anne, but that woman shook her head.

“Thank you, but I can walk by myself. You may bring the tray to my room and I

will be there shortly.”

June 1805

Henry peered into his mother’s bedroom, watching silently as she placed various

objects into a parcel. Her face was perspiring and she had to pause frequently to cough into her

handkerchief. Henry suddenly cleared his throat and she looked over at him, smiling

welcomingly.

“Hello, Henry.”

He frowned, stepping into the room. “Mother, I’m not certain that you should go

on this trip. You’re quite ill; you have been ill for months. I wish that you would allow me to call

Dr. York. You obviously have a kind of lasting illness and it should be taken care of.”

Anne’s smile melted and she appeared troubled and pleading. “Henry, dear, do let

me go. I have been feeling sick, but I care more about the welfare of those orphaned, ill and

forlorn children than I do for myself. I promise you that if I feel especially ill on the trip, I will

take a rest either in the carriage or an inn.”

521

Henry appeared doubtful and worried, but his mouth closed and he nodded,

stepping back. “Well, all right. But be careful out there, all right?”

She nodded, smiling at him. “I will, dear, don’t worry.”

He nodded once more and went out of the room. Anne continued preparing for the

trip until a coughing fit seized her and she pressed her handkerchief over her mouth. When she

had ceased coughing, she took the fabric away from her face and, upon glancing at it, saw that it

was covered with blood.

December 1805

“You are not going to this party, Mother. I forbid it.”

Anne looked pleadingly at her son from where she sat on her bed, her face drawn

and pale. “Henry, I understand your concern and I certainly appreciate it, but…” She coughed

suddenly, her cheeks reddening. “…I need to go, dear. Please.”

“Why? Why is it so important that you go to a Christmas party? Wain knows that

you have been ill and I’m certain that he would understand if you stayed here. You woke this

morning with a fever. You should be sleeping right now.”

Anne inched herself toward the edge of the bed, her features telling of her

exhaustion. “I know that Wain would understand, but there is more to my need to go than

522

making him happy. I know you understand that I’ve done many bad things throughout my life,

Henry. And I know that…” She took to coughing again, her brow beginning to produce

perspiration. “…I know that I cannot change what I’ve done, but I feel like it’s right for me to do

all the good that I can anyway.”

Henry sighed, exasperated. “Yes, but you’re sick, Mother! You’re tired all of the

time and you’re coughing blood! It’s been almost a year now since you contracted this illness.

Why, Mother? Why won’t you allow me to call Dr. York?”

“Because I already know what he will prescribe, dear. He will…” She coughed

again. “…he will instruct me to lie in bed all day, rest, and perhaps take a medicine.” She smiled.

“I won’t get any fresh air.”

“Yes, but rest would make you better. You need to think of yourself. I want you

to feel well again.”

She smiled, gazing at him gently. “Yes, dear, I understand. All right, I have a

proposition: if you let me go with you to this party, I will have Dr. York contacted tomorrow.

How does that sound?”

Henry’s eyes narrowed before they filled with admiration and some hopelessness.

“You are stubborn, Mother, though quite admirable. All right, you can come to the party.”

That night, Anne and Henry sat across from each other in the carriage as it wheeled back

523

to the estate. Henry looked at his mother worriedly.

“Are you certain that you’re all right, Mother? You don’t look very well.”

Anne looked at him and smiled, but her eyes were unusually bright and her

complexion almost white. “Yes, Henry. I’m fine, and I really enjoyed the party.”

“Well, looking at you now, I’m not so certain I should have let you go in the first

place. And why didn’t you sit down more often? It would have done you good.”

“Really, Hen…” She coughed suddenly and harshly, drawing her handkerchief

out with a trembling hand. Henry looked at her anxiously. A couple of minutes passed before she

was able to speak again.

“Henry, I’m fine,” she muttered, her voice shaking with the effort not to cough.

Perspiration suddenly shone on her face.

Henry shook his head fiercely, his expression a bit angry. “No, Mother, stop

denying it. You are absolutely not all right, and I’m going to call Dr. York to the mansion tonight

instead of tomorrow.” He glanced at her and his expression turned to one of fear and alarm. He

leaned hurriedly toward her.

“Mother! Are you all right?”

Anne sat with her eyes tightly closed, her breath coming in shallow gasps and her

face deathly pale. Her body suddenly relaxed and, with a soft sigh, she collapsed onto the seat.

Henry’s eyes widened and he began yelling to the driver.

524

“Percival! Break the horses into a run for home! Hurry!”

When the carriage arrived in the estate’s stable yards several minutes later, Henry

leapt out of it before it had fully stopped, picked up an unconscious Anne and carried her toward

the mansion. Clara, who had been awakened by the hurried arrival of the carriage and had gone

outside to see what was happening, gasped when she saw Henry running toward her with Anne

in his arms. She rushed forward.

“Oh, sir, what happened?”

“She succumbed to her illness,” he said grimly, not tired at all by his task. “Clara,

call Dr. York immediately.”

“Yes, of course.”

Dr. York came out of Anne’s bedroom that night appearing serious and concerned. He

looked at Henry, Kim, and Clara, who were all staring anxiously at him.

“I’m not exactly certain what kind of illness Mrs. Parnell has, but I believe that it

may be a pulmonary ailment of the tubercles.” He glanced at Henry. “I wish that you had called

me here months earlier. I cannot say that she won’t recover-with rest and adequate nutrition, she

525

very well might-but diseases have a better chance of going and staying away when they’re

discovered early.”

“I would have called you a long time ago, but Mother was insistent that I didn’t,”

Henry answered, his face a bit pale with fear for Anne. “She was more concerned about her

charity work in the cities.”

“Well, it is absolutely essential that she rests and receives proper nutrition, like

I’ve said. I’m afraid I know of no other treatment for this illness. But don’t worry; I’ve had

patients with this disease before and seen rest do them a great amount of good. You must keep

her in bed. She must not take any trips anytime soon. Is this understood?”

“Perfectly,” Henry said. “I don’t care if I must always have someone guarding

her; she will not be doing anything or going anywhere until she feels better.”

February 1806

Henry lightly rapped on Anne’s bedroom door one afternoon.

“Come in.”

He stepped inside. Anne smiled at him, sitting up in bed. The color had come

back in her cheeks and she no longer looked exceedingly tired. Henry smiled back at her, pleased

with her improved health.

526

“How are you feeling, Mother? You look much better.”

“Thank you, dear; I am feeling better. I hope to be able to go out and visit my

children soon. I miss them terribly.”

“Yes, but aren’t you glad I finally called Dr. York? He said for you to rest, and

that is what has helped you to recover. It’s good to see you not as exhausted and sickly as you

were.”

“I must say that I am glad you called him, Henry. However, I love those children,

and care more about their well-being than mine. I wouldn’t mind becoming ill at all if it was for

their sakes.”

Henry frowned slightly before sitting on the bed near her and taking her hand. He

smiled softly.

“You are too unselfish, Mother. Tell me, has Hope come to visit you yet?”

“Yes, she did yesterday.” She coughed before smiling broadly. “She wishes me

the best.”

“I occasionally wonder if it was a mistake to let her go. She was such a good

worker.”

“She was indeed, but Kim and Clara seem to manage everything well by

themselves. I believe that Hope does miss working here, though.”

“Yes, Kim and Clara manage everything very well. After all, it is only you and I

527

here now.” He paused as he thought of his dead siblings and father. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you, dear.” She nestled down to lie upon her pillow, her eyes closing.

“I am quite tired. You wouldn’t mind if I slept for a while, would you?”

“Of course not. You’re the one who’s ill, after all. I just came in to see how you

were.”

Anne squeezed his hand, a smile lighting her tranquil face. “Thank you,” she said

softly before falling fast asleep.

May 1806

Anne came through the mansion door, appearing happy and content. Henry heard

the door close and went to meet her.

“Hello, Mother. How was your day?”

“Marvelous, dear. It was wonderful to see my children again.”

“And how are they?”

“Fine, mostly, but it seemed like they missed me terribly.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You’re like a mother to them.” He walked closer to

her, peering at her face. “And are you feeling all right?”

528

“Yes, dear, I feel fine; better than I have in months.”

Henry appeared relieved. “I’m so glad. But you know that you should still eat

well and rest frequently, and keep your trips to a minimum. When is the next time you will go

out?”

Anne’s face fell a bit as she looked at Henry. “Well, I had planned to go to Bristol

tomorrow, and then I had wanted to go to London and stay there for a couple of days.”

Henry groaned softly, shaking his head. “No, Mother, you can’t do that. I don’t

think it would do you any harm to go to Bristol, but you should wait to go to London.”

Anne frowned, disappointed, but her eyes were understanding. “All right, dear;

I’ll wait. But I should like to go quite soon, while I’m feeling as well as I do now.”

“Yes, all right, just as long as you feel well enough for the trip.”

September 1806

Kim came into the drawing room, bringing the afternoon tea. Her expression

filled with concern when she glanced at Anne, who was reading.

“Anne, my dear, are you all right? You look to be ill again.”

Anne glanced at her before breaking into a coughing fit. When it had passed, she

gave a small smile to Kim.

529

“I certainly don’t feel as well as I did yesterday, but…I’ll be fine. The tea should

be soothing.”

“Yes, it probably will, but shouldn’t I call Henry, or Dr. York? He would

certainly want to examine you, before your illness becomes worse. Actually, looking at you now,

it seems that it has become worse.”

“No, Kim, I don’t want either of them to know, especially Henry. If he knows…”

She coughed vehemently. “…if he knows, he won’t allow me to make my visits to the children,

and I must. It doesn’t matter to me how ill I am; they need my care.”

“Yes, but Anne!” Kim strode toward her mistress, upset yet moved by her

genuine selflessness. She knelt near her, staring at her deeply. “You must care for yourself. If

you really care about those poor children, you will help yourself to fully recover. You cannot

visit them as often as you do when you’re ill like this.”

Anne chuckled, raising her hand to lay it on Kim’s. Her face was red and

perspiring, but her expression was serene. “Kim, I do understand and appreciate your concern, as

much as I do Clara’s and Henry’s. However, through these past nights I have experienced certain

dreams, dreams that have been very pleasant and peaceable, and I feel that-”

She bent over to cough, blood spouting from her mouth and perspiration flowing

down her face. Kim gasped, quickly standing and helping Anne to do the same.

“Come, Anne; we’ll go to your bedroom.”

530

Later that day, Anne heard hurried footsteps ascend the staircase and approach her

bedroom, and a couple of moments later she heard Henry’s surprised, alarmed voice at her

doorway.

“Mother! What are you doing in bed?”

She slowly opened her eyes and moved them languidly in his direction. He went

to her and stopped by her bedside, his eyes dilating in fear as he stood observing her ill features.

“How long have you been feeling this way?” he demanded. “When did you come

in here?”

Anne appeared upset over her son’s worrying. She smiled comfortingly. “Henry,

it’s all right. I was feeling quite ill in the drawing room earlier this afternoon, so I came up here

to rest. But I’ll be all right, dear.”

“Well, I’m calling Dr. York here now,” he said firmly, and turned toward the

doorway, but Anne’s feeble voice stopped him.

“No, Henry, wait.” She reached a trembling hand toward him. “Please don’t.”

He turned toward her, bewildered and upset. “What on earth do you mean?

You’re very sick again.”

“He said that he didn’t know of any other treatments besides rest and nutrition. I

will rest and be sure to eat well and…I will feel better again. It’s all right, darling.”

531

Henry frowned for a moment, seeming to want to argue, but then he sighed

submissively, his expression a bit gloomy. “Yes, all right.” He went to Anne and clasped her

hand, looking down at her sadly. “I just wish there was something else that could be done for

you.”

Anne smiled lovingly at him, her features more exhausted than ever. “I know,

dear, but it really is fine.”

Henry drew his hand away, staring at her with angry incredulity. “How can you

keep saying that? You act as if you could care less if you recovered or not.”

“Oh, Henry, it isn’t that.” She struggled to sit up, but with little success. “Of

course I would like to recover, especially if that means I could spend all of my time...with those

children.” She brought her handkerchief to her mouth and coughed. A peaceful smile came upon

her face. “But lately I have been feeling quite at peace with my illness. I’m not exactly sure how

to explain it, but I have been thinking about many things these past few days, and one of them is

my love for those children. They have such pitiable fortune…” She coughed. “…and I feel like I

would be more than happy for God to give me their sufferings. As I say that, I am glad that I am

sick. I would gladly give my life for them, as well.”

“All right, Mother, stop talking like that,” Henry said strictly, a bit upset. “You

are a selfless woman and I respect and appreciate that, but…you must recover. I don’t want to

hear you say anything like that again. Concentrate on becoming well.”

Anne nodded slowly. “Yes, dear. All right.” She closed her eyes, her son’s

despairing expression fresh in her mind. Henry, my darling. He doesn’t know just how I’m

532

feeling, and if I tell him he will be beside himself. He’s lost so many people dear to him and I pity

him for that. But somehow he will have to accept what I know will soon happen to me.

December 1806

Hope ascended the staircase and went to Anne’s bedroom doorway, where Kim

and Clara stood talking.

“Hello,” she said when she stood near them. “I was on my way here to visit Anne

and I saw Dr. York pass out the door. She hasn’t become worse, has she?”

Clara swallowed, the tears standing in her eyes. Kim looked equally sad as she

spoke.

“I’m afraid that she has. Dr. York said that rest would help her recover, but it has

only a bit. In the past week alone she has coughed more frequently, woken up sweating and eaten

little. She says that she hardly has an appetite anymore.”

Hope closed her pain-filled eyes. “Oh, dear God.” She quickly opened them.

“How is Henry? Is he taking it well?”

Kim appeared glummer. “I don’t believe so. I thought that he would, since he ha