Up (or Down?) the Garden Path with Anne de Bourgh

Considering our August theme – Up The Garden Path – I knew immediately what I should share today. Although I daresay every novel I’ve ever written features a garden walk or two, I’m sure there must be more of them in The Ladies of Rosings Park than any other. There’s even a chapter by that title. Well close, at least. It’s Going Down the Garden Path.

But is it “up” or “down”? I have a feeling it’s a regional thing. I live near Seattle, and I would normally say, “Go down the path…” (or the road) – that is, unless it’s clearly uphill.  What about you? Does one way sound right to your ear and the other a little off? Or do you use the two interchangeably? I thought taking an informal poll might be interesting.

First, though, here’s a scene from that on-theme chapter I mentioned. This is after Darcy and Elizabeth have married and Lady Catherine has been forced to look elsewhere for a credible match for her daughter. When she puts the word out, a parade of eligible candidates begin applying for the position, much to Anne’s dismay.  This chapter is told from Anne’s point of view:

Mr. Alderwood came to Rosings once more before his business affairs in London were concluded and he departed for the north. During that visit, Mama made certain I spent as much time with him as possible, including, as promised, the guided tour of the garden.

It was a dry day, and I did not object, especially since I wished to be able to report to Mr. Essex that I had not neglected my outdoor exercise. So I led Mr. Alderwood through to the formal gardens at the back of the house. With the watchful Mrs. Jenkinson stationed at a distance, Mr. Alderwood and I strolled along the paths between the carefully clipped knee-high hedges, which wove back and forth, crisscrossing themselves in elaborate diamond patterns punctuated by topiary obelisks at the corners.

“Knot Garden” by tpholland is licensed under CC BY 2.0

“It may not be much to look at this time of year, Mr. Alderwood,” I explained, “but in the summer, there are flowers blooming in all these spaces between the boxwood. It really is quite beautiful.”

“Although I shall gladly take your word for now, Miss de Bourgh,” he said, “I hope to see it for myself a few months hence.” We continued on in silence a few more paces before Mr. Alderwood resumed in a more serious tone. “Miss de Bourgh, I realize our official acquaintance has been brief, but you should know that I have long admired you from afar, the foundation being laid by my favorable first impression years ago and built on by what I subsequently learnt of you from your mother’s letters. So you see that even before I came to Rosings, I was far from indifferent to you.”

I hardly knew what to think of such an assertion or how to respond, and yet I deemed some response necessary. It seemed to me that the best policy would be to make light of his rather serious statement, and so I tried to set a casual tone of voice. “I admire you too, Mr. Alderwood, but as you say, our acquaintance so far has been very brief.”

“And yet I feel as if I know all I need to know, Miss de Bourgh. May I call you Anne?”

“I believe that is a bit premature, Mr. Alderwood.”

“Ah, I see I shall have to earn that right.” He stopped and turned to me, saying, “I hope to do so now. I dare not waste this ideal opportunity. I must speak to you about my feelings before I go. I want to leave you in no doubt as to my intentions, which are entirely honorable.”

It was now obvious as to where his conversation was leading. His purport being something for which I was not prepared, I made a final attempt to forestall it. “Again, Mr. Alderwood, I cannot help but feel this kind of talk is premature. It is no pleasure to me to hear it.”

“Please, Miss de Bourgh, you must allow me to finish what I have begun.”

“Very well, Mr. Alderwood, if I must.” The sooner he began, the sooner he would have done.

He went on to remind me of all he had to offer – his current situation as well as his lofty expectations upon his father’s demise. He then took my hands. “…In short, although it may be less than you have a right to expect, I offer it all to you, Miss de Bough. If you will honor me by consenting to become my wife, I shall spend the rest of my life ensuring your happiness.”

It was a good proposal, I decided, although I had little to compare it with. Looking at it objectively, what he had said did not seem deficient in either content or style. The feelings expressed were proper and possibly even sincere. They did not inspire similar feelings returned in me, however. Instead, I felt mostly vexation, more so with Mama then with the gentleman before me. This was her doing.

Mr. Alderwood had been perfectly charming up until this point. I had even begun to wonder if he were somebody for whom I could develop romantic feelings, given enough time. But then I was not given enough time. Mr. Alderwood made his intentions known without the delay that might have otherwise worked in his favor, and that promising bud of potential was prematurely blighted.

No doubt proposing was what he had meant to do all along, whether he had liked me or not. No doubt Mama’s information had made it clear that there was no time to lose. I and my handsome fortune would go to the man with the best offer. Mr. Alderwood’s might not be the grandest, so he was determined it would impress by at least being the first. Perhaps he could make off with the prize before the other contenders had time to get into the game – the fox stealing the hen from the henhouse before the hounds could even set up their watch.

I had no wish to be treated in such an insulting manner. I had no wish to be part of a lucrative prize package to be claimed by means of a winning bid. I could hear the auctioneer rattling away.

What am I bid for lot number eight? We have on the block the heiress to a handsome fortune and an excellent estate in Kent. It all goes to daughter when the old lady pops off. So speak up, gentlemen, before it’s too late! Make your best offer…

“Did you hear me, Miss de Bourgh?” Mr. Alderwood looked expectantly to me. “Did you understand my offer?”

“Knot Garden View Closer” by ksblack99 is marked with CC PDM 1.0

I could feel my newly minted sense of well-being slipping away. I feared one of my old headaches might be coming upon me. Yet Mr. Alderwood was waiting, and for all my vexation of spirit, I did not wish to be rude. I had to answer him something.

What I said exactly, I hardly know. I believe I thanked him for the compliment of his addresses. I told him that it was not in my power to accept them, however. Then, at his request, I gave him leave to call again when he was able. Despite, how displeased I was at that moment, I did not wish to close that door entirely. Doing so would have been as unfairly premature as Mr. Alderwood’s proposal, and I liked to think I was above that sort of meanness. My current peevishness could not be allowed to push me into making what might be a mistake. After all, I did like Mr. Alderwood, and blighted buds sometimes survived to bloom beautifully in the end.

Did you enjoy this garden walk with Anne? There’s actually a second walk down the garden path in this chapter – one with a very different gentleman, more to Anne’s liking. I hope you’ll read The Ladies of Rosings Park. Get to know this unlikely heroine, whose surprisingly lively mind and improving health enables her to come into her own at last!

Now, where are you from, and what do you say? – “Up the garden path,” “Down the garden path,” or either interchangeably?