Persuasion 200 – Anne Supervises Preparing Kellynch to Be Let

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There are a thousand things to be done to prepare to leave Kellynch and all of them seem to fall upon Anne.



Anne trudged up the steps, a heavy ledger tucked under her arm. Portraits, she was cataloging portraits today. Just one more in an unending stream of tasks Elizabeth saw fit to assign her. Count the silver, record the books, and oversee the packing of mother’s china and crystal. Oh, yes, the condition of all the draperies must be noted, and the particularly fine pieces of furniture not suitable for their tenants, those must be readied for storage.

How was it Elizabeth was so good at devising tasks for her, but so very poor at participating in any of them? Had she done anything outside of her own chambers? Her gowns! Oh her gowns! They must all be tended and readied for travel. How dare Anne suggest that she need not take every one of them? Indeed, what effrontery to even consider it? Why, what might that, that woman, Mrs. Croft, do with access to Elizabeth’s fine garments?

Anne pinched her forehead. Mrs. Croft was an unconventional woman who spent much time at sea with her husband. What would she care of Elizabeth’s finery? Not everyone was obsessed with what Elizabeth Elliot wore.

Or how she looked…how many looking glasses had to be packed? What a ridiculous article to transport—how many were necessary? At least she had convinced Father to leave the largest one behind—after all the house in Bath could have no fitting place for it and it would draw attention to the smallness of the room if placed in anything smaller than the Kellynch gallery. Or so she had convinced him, thankfully. He obviously had no concept of the cost of transporting such a monstrosity.

“Oh, Anne!” Father stopped abruptly, blinking rapidly. “What are you wearing?”

What was she wearing? Of all the absurd questions! “A morning dress, father. I must go through all the guestroom and record the portraits there. It is very dusty work.”

“You look a fright, you now, an absolute fright.” His lip curled in a vague sneer.

“No one but the servants shall see me, sir.”

“Still, one must maintain an appropriate presentation to the staff. The family image must be upheld, here as well as in Bath. I will not have the servants thinking ill of us in Bath.”

“Have you forgotten, sir, I am not to attend you at Bath, Mrs. Clay is going in my stead. I am for Uppercross.” A touch of relief battled with a hint of bitterness. While Bath was certainly not the place she would choose to visit, for Mrs. Clay to attend them—it was galling. She had no delusions about being fine or desirable company, but for the unpolished, designing daughter of their agent to be preferred company? No amount of mental machinations could alleviate that sting.

“Oh yes, we cannot do without Mrs. Clay. I had quite forgotten what arrangements we had made for you.”

“I shall visit with Mary.”

He lifted his hand. “Ah, yes, that is right. Very good. I am glad that is settled. I need you to see to Mrs. Clay.”

“Excuse me? I do not think I heard you properly.”

“Elizabeth is quite concerned that she does not know how to correctly pack her gowns for the trip.”

“What do you expect of me?”

“Teach her how to manage them properly, perhaps accomplish her packing for her. She cannot be seen to arriving in disarray.”

Anne squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fight fist. Unlike Mrs. Clay, she knew how to behave properly and she would choose to do so, even if it killed her. “Father, you must see that I am overwhelmed with tasks as it is.  Since Elizabeth is her friend, it should fall upon her to assist Mrs. Clay.”

“Elizabeth knows nothing of packing—that is the job of her maid.”

“Then perhaps her maid may be enlisted for this project. She might also arrange Mrs. Clay’s packing.”

“I suppose that is possible. But I do not see why you are being so disagreeable.”

Perhaps because she had far more work to do with far less help…no that thought was not helpful at all. “Please, Father, try to understand, both you and Elizabeth have insisted—”

“But what else have you to do? Truly I do not understand why you complain so. You must learn to better manage your time.” He frowned and tossed his head. “I shall instruct Elizabeth’s maid to assist Mrs. Clay, but I will accept no more lip from you.” He strode past her, muttering something unpleasant under his breath.

She swallowed hard and dashed down the hall. Privacy, she desperately needed privacy! She ducked into the farthest room and shut the door behind her. No one was likely to find her in the smallest, shabbiest guest room.

She pressed her back against the door, panting to hold back the roiling turmoil in her chest. Clutching the ledger to her ribs helped hold back sentiments she must not express. Perhaps it was best she be separated from her father and sister for some time.

Oh, goodness! She gasped. Her mother’s face stared at her from the darkest corner of the room.

Anne dropped her ledger on the press near the door and staggered to the unfinished canvas, balanced haphazardly on an easel. Lady Elliot, standing amidst a spring garden, beamed at her. The paint faded into pencil sketch from her shoulders down, and many of the flowers were unfinished, but there was no mistaking her mother’s face.

“Oh, Mama.” She sank to her knees on the dusty floor, face in her hands. “What have we become? I have tried to make you proud, but I have failed you.”

Standing, she scrubbed tears from her face with her apron and paced before the portrait. “This would never have happened under your management, Mama, but now we must leave our home. They are going to make merry in Bath, whilst I am for Uppercross to see Mary. The Crofts will be here now. I think you would like them. They are very sensible people, as I understand it.  Mrs. Croft, I am told, is very much like her…her…brother…” Sobs, uncontrollable and soul-wrenching, drove her to the floor.

“After you have had a good cry out, you must dry your eyes and be happy again. This life is far too fleeting to waste one extra minute on mourning or regrets. I would not have you languishing and forlorn … Anne. I wish to see you strong, sensible, and smiling …”Those were some of Mama’s last words.

It was time to dry her eyes and be strong and sensible and smiling once more. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes and pushed up to her feet. The lists must be finished, looking glasses packed, and all the houses in the parish visited, it was the Elliot way. Somewhere, she would find the strength to smile through it all. And perhaps in Upper Cross she might find something worth smiling about.

She dusted the unfinished portrait with her apron and tucked it under her arm.  All the rest would wait a few minutes whilst she put the portrait in her room. Father and sister might have their looking glasses, this is what she would take with her from Kellynch.

 

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  1. My heart goes out to poor Anne. Overlooked and bullied by both her father and sister who think she is not good enough for them, she has no one else to turn to besides the memory of her mother and occasionally Lady Russell.

    You did a great job in portraying Anne’s problems, Maria. I’m looking forward to the coming instalments.

    1. Thanks, Luthien. Poor Anne is in a really difficult spot. It’s good to know as a reader things are going to get better!

    • Deborah on August 26, 2014 at 5:33 am
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    Beautiful writing, Maria. I could feel Anne’s pain. Such selfishness and obtuseness….”better manage your time” and “what else have you to do?”. Not to mention the insult of asking Anne to fold the interloper’s gowns! Poor Anne. She is so bullied by her father and her sister. I’m glad she found the unfinished painting and remembered her mother’s words. Did Anne’s mother foresee her treatment at her husband’s and eldest’s hands?

    I like her positive thought…”in Upper Cross she might find something worth smiling about.”. Anne is an optimist.

    What a wonderful piece of writing. Not only did I feel Anne’s pain but wanted to be her friend and defend her. Thank you for sharing your work with us. 🙂

    1. I hadn’t planned on the painting, but it just kind of appeared there and felt right. I think Anne had to be something of an optimist to make it through all that she did. Thanks, Deborah!

    • Jane Odiwe on August 26, 2014 at 6:09 am
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    Beautiful, Maria-oh, poor Anne-I wanted to cry with her! Horrid, horrid Sir Walter!!! Hang in there Anne…

    1. I want to cry a little writing it too. Thanks, Jane!

    • Maggie Griscom on August 26, 2014 at 7:15 am
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    What a father! This is one of the best insights into Sir Walter’s personality. Self-center, egotistical and a bully to boot. Elizabeth is just as bad. Anne needs tender care not this stuff!. I am glad that she found the portarait of her mother. Really sad that she knows it will have no meaning for her father or Elizabeth, not like a mirror! Great job!

    1. Sir Walter is a piece of work, isn’t he? I definitely do not like him. I hadn’t thought about it in reference to the mirrors as I was writing, but you’re right. Thanks for pointing it out!

  2. Wonderful scene with so many little touches to make it more interesting. I was offended for Anne at her father’s insistence she help Mrs. Clay. When Anne suggested Elizabeth do it as she was her friend, he said it was work for a servant! I wanted to smack some sense into him. What an insensitive, strutting peacock! The unfinished portrait of her mother was a fantastic idea to show how her values are so very different than the rest of her family. Great scene!

    1. Thanks, Susan. It was a little OTT for him to want her to help Mrs. Clay, wasn’t it? Not a great dad.

  3. Well done as usual!! Really liked the portrait idea! The frustration is so strong! In her father’s eyes Anne is such a total failure and disappointment. Can that ever change?

    1. Thanks, Dave. I have a feeling nothing would really improve his opinion of Anne, unless she married someone of higher rank than he. That might get his attention.

    • Carole in Canada on August 26, 2014 at 7:33 pm
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    What a self-absorbed, self-centered egotistical bully of a narcissistic father!!!!! Well written chapter Maria and very moving. My heart broke for Anne when she saw her mother’s portrait.

    1. Thanks, Carole. I have always disliked Sir Walter and Elizabeth and it isn’t getting any better as I write these scenes.

    • Stephanie Mudd Carrico on August 26, 2014 at 8:31 pm
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    Wonderful chapter…heart-broken for Anne…all the the things she does and her fathers doesn’t see her worth…the mirror-portrait was a nice touch…Sir Walter and Elizabeth only see themselves while Anne sees into a person…their worth whether upper-class or servant…she appreciates the person…all the grief she keeps bottled up inside…she needed a good cry…and maybe she will find something worth smiling about at UpperCross

    1. I’m glad you liked the mirror/portrait thing. I wish I could say I had carefully plotted to put that in, but it was entirely unconscious! LOL Thanks Stephanie!

    • Sheila L. M. on August 30, 2014 at 9:30 am
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    I did wipe away tears…at the words Sir Walter spoke and then the scene when she sees her mother’s portrait. So touching as she wrapped it to take with her…to Upper Cross. And how Elizabeth was insulting in so many ways. Does she really think another woman is going to want her dresses? And to actually want Anne to act as a servant to Mrs.Clay? And, of course, Sir Walter repeated that same slap across the face to Anne. The comment about valuing the mirrors over his wife’s portrait was so perfect. How little father & daughter value much of anyone outside their tight circle….unless they have a title! Inspired chapter! Thank you.

    1. Thanks you Sheila. I admit, this was a little tough to write.

  4. Sorry, Grace. Didn’t realise I’d missed commenting. To be honest, I was so moved by the time I reached the end of this piece of beautiful writing, I went straight off in search of a tissue and must have not realised I didn’t say anything!

    I love the connection with her mother and the unfinished portrait very much. So pleased Anne is to keep it, and I loved the “I wish to see you strong, sensible, and smiling …” So poignant and such a burden for her young shoulders at the time.

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