The dining room door shut; Anne was left alone in the entry hall, blinking back tears of anger and humiliation. How could Elizabeth mock their mother so? Her advice had been kindly given, meant for the good of her daughters, whereas Elizabeth had spoken those words out of pure spite! Poor Mother! she thought sadly. If she could see us now, how ashamed she would be!

Anne crossed the entry hall to the drawing room door, pausing before entering to compose herself. Common courtesy required that she ask her father if he had any errands for her; she sighed in resignation as she opened the door. I hope there are none involving making purchases, she thought,Or, giving 'gifts'.

But her much longed-for 'escape' had to wait upon Sir Walter's absorption with his own concerns. He was in an anxious frame of mind this morning and kept his patient daughter at least a half-hour longer than necessary as he talked on. Finally, he finished and dismissed her with a careless wave. Selecting the largest umbrella from their collection, she strode to the front door and opened it herself, without the aid of the butler. She was free!

The skies were still gray and overcast, but the rain had dwindled and a light wind had begun to blow. Anne felt her spirits lighten as she headed down the deserted street. The cold, damp air was a welcome change from the stuffy, overheated drawing room and her father's disapproving frown.

"Anne, surely you aren't going out to do your shopping wearing that!"

"This bonnet? Why yes, Father. It is raining and none of the others I have ..."

"My dear! You are hardly fit to be seen! If you should encounter one of our acquaintances during your walk! You may well have some consideration for my social standing here. That might be proper for your visit to Mary, but here it can do nothing but appear positively ... frumpy!"

"But isn't this the one you brought back from London for ..."

"Two years ago, yes!"

"But it exactly matches the color of my coat and ... "

"Which is passe, my dear, passe! That shade of gray went out several seasons ago! So you must go walking while it rains? Humph! Mind that you keep your head down; perhaps you will not be recognized!"

Anne lifted her face rebelliously, enjoying the feel of the tiny droplets as they stung her cheeks. The wind billowed her 'unfashionable' coat behind her as she walked briskly down the deserted street. No, Father, she thought rebelliously, I shall not be recognized, for I have very few acquaintances in Bath, and none at all in this neighborhood.

What she found herself missing, oddly enough, was the bustling activity of Uppercross. She and Lady Russell had chuckled over Mrs. Musgrove's label of 'quiet cheerfulness' to such a busy, energetic household, but Anne found herself longing for it on a day like today. How refreshing was the laughter-filled, talkative hospitality of the Musgroves, with no standing upon ceremony. Such a contrast to her own family home!

"No, no, my dear, there is nothing you can do for me today. Unless of course you can turn the calendar backward or forward! I am in such a quandary! I do not know what to do, for the situation cannot be amended; I am quite undone!"

"Excuse me, Father, but I thought Mr. Shepherd had arranged the financing in such a way that you ..."

"Shepherd! Shepherd? What has this to do with Shepherd? No, no it's Lucas, Sir William Lucas! I have just had his letter this morning informing me that he will be visiting Bath within the next several days and would like to stay here, with us."

"Oh! But the redecoration proj .."

"Exactly so! Those shiftless workmen tell me that the front bedroom will not be completed until one week from today and not a moment sooner, no matter what the price!"

"Did you ... offer them more ... money ... Father?"

"Why, naturally, my dear! We must entertain our guest properly, after all! The room must be finished when we have need of it, but how?"

Why, Naturally! Anne thought wrathfully, as she crossed the street at the corner. A standing puddle of water caught her eye. Poor Anne felt an almost overmastering urge to stomp in it and shout in frustration, as would a small child in a fit of temper.Naturally everything must be of the best! she winced. Naturally we must maintain our dignity, to live in accordance with our rank and consequence! She ground her teeth but left the puddle undisturbed. Naturally! We cheat those we cannot pay and we lie to everyone around us by living a life we cannot afford! We come to Bath to retrench, and what do we do but take a house in one of the finest areas in town and begin redecorating it! A house that is not our own!

She swallowed hard, a little shocked by intensity of her angry thoughts. What is wrong with me today? I am so emotional! All my worst nightmares seem to be coming true! Her sense of dread had been building since she had come to Bath; now her thoughts began to accuse her. It is your own fault, you know! You thought you could escape this, and you did for nearly four months. You told yourself all that time that this retrenching idea would work. But leopards don't change their spots; you came home to find nothing has been really solved. The cause of the problem has never admitted his fault, nor is he like to.

And now this house. Anne shook her head in disbelief. Before moving to Bath, how her father would have ridiculed those who had lived so, without an estate or the prestige of being a resident landholder. But now he characterized this house as a dignified situation, quite proper for a man of consequence, in fact, quite the most superior house in all of Camden Place. Oh, Naturally! But if anything goes wrong this time, all we will have left is our precious 'consequence'!

Another family's living situation came to mind: the Harvilles and their small, rented house near the foot of that ancient pier in Lyme. It was so tiny, barely adequate for their needs, and in a most unimpressive, awkward location. Yet Captain Harville had had the wisdom to choose quarters in keeping with his very modest fortune. The frank honesty of their unpretentious style of life had amazed her, for they were such kind, generous people. Anne's face flushed as she remembered their spontaneous hospitality, sincerely desiring to host all of Captain Wentworth's friends for dinner without a thought for the inconvenience or expense! In our home, she thought ruefully, we issue invitations in keeping with social reciprocity, making sure the guests are worth the trouble and expense of entertaining. Her father's words still sounded in her ears.

"Of course, my dear, we cannot consider the expense of a thing like this, for the room must be exactly right, Sir Lucas or no. I just wish it could be exactly right by the time he arrives, that is all."

"Is Sir Lucas an old acquaintance, Father? Perhaps he will be understan ..."

"Oh, yes, yes. Elizabeth will remember him, for we have known him anytime these past ten years during our visits to town. He comes during the Season; we usually meet up with him at St. James. A very well-mannered, jovial, agreeable sort of man, though not so agreeable to look at! Hah! His appearance is rather like, well, like a teakettle, don't you know! It's an old joke with us; I twit him about it every year! A shiny, bald head (that's the knob), a protruding stomach ( the kettle), and spindly little legs beneath! Hah! And it so happens that his face is a rather pinkish, copper-color! But he is a worthy man, a gentleman of some little rank, but he does have a tidy estate in Hertfordshire. No sons of marriageable age, unfortunately!"

"But how came he to ask for an invitation, Father? That seems a little presum..."

"Oh, no, no, my dear! Not presumptuous! I have always held out an open invitation to him to come to Kellynch, whenever we were not occupied with something else. He had our card stating our change in residence, and wrote asking to stay on his way through Bath, why, it must be several months ago. Of course, I was certain that the room would be finished in time, so I wrote back that he was welcome to come any time, at his convenience. And the front room would have been completed if there were not so many ridiculous delays, for which I hold those workmen entirely responsible!"

The 'ridiculous delays,' Anne knew, were caused by her father's indecisiveness: the paint color had been changed three separate times, then eliminated altogether as a scheme of sky and clouds was proposed for the largest wall, with the rest of the room painted in an entirely new color; the latter task was the one in process now. And Sir Walter continued to have fits of inspiration, much to the delight of Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay, and to the consternation of Anne.

As things now stood, the remaining wall was to have instead a tromp d'oeil mural of a Grecian landscape and temple, for which a prominent local artist had already been paid a sizable retaining fee. Since that portion of the work had not yet begun, it was anyone's guess as to exactly what type of scene would end up on that wall. The final choice would be dictated by the latest whim of fashion, of course, and would cause her father much time and agitation. Anne rolled her eyes at the thought. Right now Chinese landscapes were popular, as were things Egyptian (aside from the little awkwardness of this interest being stimulated by Napoleon, whom it was not quite the thing to admire). Fitting out this room was a serious decision, as were all matters concerning Sir Walter's conduct with members of Polite Society.

"Yes, my dear, but you know full well that decently entertaining guests is a matter of great importance. Hospitality is a very serious undertaking, for nothing speaks more clearly of one's rank and consequence than being able to host one's guests adequately, with proper formality. Our circumstances have already been humbled enough, I believe -- although I do appreciate your concern, my dear! As well as any little sacrifices you are able to make in reducing expenses.

Anne's steps slowed as she considered her father's comment, so typical of his self-absorbed vanity, yet spoken in such a kindly tone of voice. Her jaw tightened and she clenched the handle of the umbrella tightly. So it is I who must reduce my lifestyle, to live in a humbled manner! I must always give way , I ... " Her angry thoughts were interrupted by the raucous cry of a gull wheeling closely overhead; this caused her to glance up. The beauty of that bird soaring gracefully in free flight caught at her heart and she stopped to gaze at it. She had not watched the sea birds since she had been in Lyme.

Lyme. Lyme brought with it more memories of the Harvilles. Well, she thought ruefully, perhaps if we are brought to the place where we must live in an even more reduced way it would not be so bad; although I cannot imagine Father living in that house by the pier! How his 'consequence' would suffer! She thought some more about the Harvilles. They were not unhappy to live in such a way; but then, they had known long separation, and deprivation, and the fear which accompanied Captain Harville's serious injury and uncertain future. Anne looked to the ground now and began to make her way down Milsom street. And the Harvilles have known what it is to lose a beloved sister, as I have lost my own dear mother so long ago, she thought sadly. She had now reached the shops, but she had no interest in the goods displayed in the windows. I suppose the Harvilles are happy because they are thankful to be together, she decided. They are grateful for what they have, instead of being miserable about what they do not! They are forced to trust in Providence completely.

And so am I! Anne's eyes welled up at the realization of her complete helplessness to change her situation. But the Harvilles have each other! she reminded herself. Whereas I have no one ... I continue to live as I always have, quiet and confined, but I am more alone that ever, especially here in Bath! Even among my own family, I am alone. This was a lowering thought.

The wind had dropped; now it begun raining in earnest. She put up her umbrella and stood listening to the patter of the raindrops on the fabric. Dear God, please! I would so like ... She fingered the smooth wooden handle of the umbrella as she tried to decide exactly what she was praying for. She did not know. What would I like? she wondered. A home of my very own? She felt her throat tighten. This would likely never happen. Or perhaps just to live among people who are glad to have me with them, who enjoy my company. Or ... simply to have a friend, a good friend ... to talk to, to go places with (like this errand today), and to laugh with. Oh, yes, all of these! she decided. But most of all, a friend! The tears which had filled her eyes now were spilling down her cheeks. Anne bowed her head as she searched for her handkerchief; thankful that the rain would hide them.

After a few moments she resumed her walk down Milsom street. Her destination was very near now and she needed to pull herself together. Well, I do have friends, she decided. I suppose I shall have to live with Lady Russell, then, even if we do not always agree. Lady Russell had very firm opinions and no real sense of humor; Anne was reluctant to live entirely with her. Or Mary. But Mary did not share her interests, had no conversation beyond trivial everyday matters, and tended to shift the load of her family responsibilities onto her sister. Or maybe I should ... run away and join the navy! Anne smiled to herself as she wiped away her tears. As if I could! Besides, that would be worse than anything! Trapped on a ship with a bunch of barbaric, horrid men! She thought some more.Or perhaps I should join a convent! She winced a little at that. Trapped in a building among a bunch of scrupulously correct, silent women! And besides, I am not Catholic. Humor was not helping today. Whatever am I to do? she wondered. I'm in such a state that I cannot even think of something to pray for! What a dreadful, miserable day this is!

Before her was the door to the Stationer's; the bell tinkled cheerfully as she opened it. Well, at least I shall do one productive thing: I can buy that cheap writing paper!

Anne wandered home later that morning in considerably better spirits than when she had left. She had been able to make her purchase at the Stationer's without any delay and had stopped at several other shops nearby, doing a little browsing to wile away the time; there was no particular reason to go home. Once there, she knew would either spend the time by herself in her room, or in the drawing room, sitting quietly while the others conversed over and around her, behaving as they usually did -- as though she were not present. Either way she would be alone; it was much more pleasant to spend the time in these shops.

On a whim, and because of the inclement weather at that moment, she had stepped in to the chocolatier's and had enjoyed a delicious chocolate drink. While there, she had purchased a small box of chocolates to take with her, and had even gone so far as to open it and eat a few on the way home. This was the height of ill-breeding, but she didn't care, not today. And anyway, the streets were completely deserted. Poor Father, now I am truly unfit to be seen! If anyone comes near, I shall be mindful of his consequence and keep my head well down! She spent a few minutes considering which would be the more rude: to snub a passing acquaintance or to offend her father's sensibilities. But the streets remained empty, she was seen by no one.

Well, she thought as she munched another chocolate, there are some advantages to being alone: when one has a box of chocolates, one needn't share any! But Anne knew in her heart that she would much rather have someone along to share them with, but to guard herself from further melancholy, she reveled in the pleasures of solitary gluttony. Perhaps I shall eat the entire box myself! she decided. Anne had never done such a thing; she felt rather like a gleeful, greedy child. Oh well! ' La-de-da', as Elizabeth would say! She hummed a little tune and twirled the umbrella as she walked, sending droplets spinning around her.

Ho-hum, almost home, she thought, as she rounded the corner onto Camden Place. She then began to study her new neighborhood, something else she had never done before. There were many trees here, all bare, of course, and Anne occupied herself with trying to determine the kind of each of them. She especially loved flowering trees, and she hoped there would be some here. 'Friendship is a flowering tree.' Anne recalled the quote, accurately, she hoped. Coleridge, she thought, and very true. Now which kind of tree would represent the type of friend I would like to have? A cherry -- no, an apple tree. She smiled as she pictured a large, spreading tree, laden with beautiful, pink-tinged blooms. Apple trees flower a little later than the others, but their blossoms have a heavenly color and scent. The pale green leaves that accompany them are delightful too. And the fruit of that tree is nourishing to the body, and is delicious to eat. Apples store well for a long time, even into the winter. Yes, I should like an apple-tree friend, but ... what in the world?

Anne had been so intent with her daydreaming that she had not glanced in the direction of her house. Now she did -- and saw two carriages waiting in front. Oh no! she groaned. Was there a party she had forgotten about? Some important guests who had been invited for luncheon without her knowledge? She hurried up the street, her pleasant reverie forgotten.

One of the carriages was a sturdy, barouche-type used for travel. It was greatly mud-spattered; several heavy trunks were strapped to the top; its four horses were steaming. There appeared to be a crest of some type on the door, half covered by the dirt. Merciful heavens, Anne winced. Sir William Lucas has arrived early!

The other seemed rather familiar to Anne and she squinted through the rain in order to see better. My goodness! Could it be? It was! Mr. Musgrove's traveling carriage! What can have happened to bring him here! This carriage also bore the marks of travel; obviously it had come directly from Uppercross. How very odd. The Musgroves would first establish themselves at a hotel before they would make a social call here. Unless ... Fear clutched at Anne's heart, although she couldn't identify why she would respond this way. She collapsed the umbrella, stuffed the small box of chocolates into her coat pocket, and began to run, arriving at the front door as a group of footmen emerged to bring in the first of the trunks.

She pushed past them and rushed into the drawing room, breathless and wet. Her father and a balding, portly gentlemen were seated before the fire, enjoying a glass of wine together. Mr. Musgrove was nowhere to be seen.

"Father!" She panted. "Father, what has happened? Why is the Musgrove's carriage here?! Where is Mr. Musgrove?"

Elizabeth cast a withering look across the room at her sister. Anne swallowed, her cheeks began to grow hot with embarrassment. What a sight she must be, windblown and panic-stricken, and terribly rude. "Excuse me, please! But I am I mistaken? Isn't that Mr. Musgrove's traveling ..."

"Ah, Anne! You have returned, and at just at the right moment, too!" Her father beamed at her, as he and the other gentlemen rose in greeting. She blanched. Why should he respond in such a friendly way to her ill-mannered entrance? "Allow me to introduce my very good friend Sir William Lucas, who is come to visit our humble home!" Sir Lucas made her a very courteous bow; he seemed a most pleasant, kindly man.

"Well now, Anne, let me take your coat and bonnet and you may sit with us for a few moments while you warm yourself." Sir Walter cheerfully divested her of these articles himself, handing them to a waiting footman. "We are about to take our luncheon in here, before the fire; isn't that a comfortable, cozy notion for such a dreary, stormy day?" He courteously held out a chair for her.

What was this? Her father hated impromptu dining! Then Anne remembered that Elizabeth's dressmaker had made the dining room a shambles, a thing which normally would have incensed Sir Walter greatly, due to the presence of an important guest -- but not today. Indeed, nothing could exceed her father's affability!

"Well, my dear," he began, "it seems you are to leave us again for a spell." He removed a folded paper which was resting on the mantelpiece and handed it to her. "This has just arrived for you." Anne took it, mystified. She could swear that her father's eyes were twinkling, but how could that be? And what did he mean about leaving? She opened the letter.

Dear Father,

You will wonder to receive this from me, but the need is very pressing. All is in an uproar here and my nerves are in shreds. Please send Anne to me right away. The Musgroves have kindly sent their carriage for her with this letter. She must make haste to come right away, this very afternoon, as the carriage is urgently required by morning. Truly, Father, the need is vital! There is such a to-do here, the like of which I have never seen! I feel feverish even as I write this!

Your Loving Daughter,

Mary M.

Mary! Anne looked up at her father in amazement. Something truly terrible must have happened at Uppercross, but what? Mary's letter said nothing. Sir Walter laid his hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"As you can see, my dear, you must leave us, at once, right away! Oh, it's probably nothing of importance, " he soothed. "Perhaps something has gone wrong on the farm -- chickens molting in the hayseed, or children with the croup, or measles, or some such thing. You know Mary; she takes fright at such trivialities! You run along, now. I have had your trunks brought up to your room, and Elise is waiting to assist you with your packing." He gave her a small pat. "You may write and tell us all about it once the crisis has passed. And you needn't worry about hurrying back, dear. Take as long as you need. There's a good girl."

Anne sat motionless for a moment, blinking up at her father in disbelief as she digested the contents of Mary's letter. I am going to Uppercross? I am going right away? But I ... She studied Sir Walter's face; his smile was no longer one of welcome, it was one of polite dismissal. It would be pointless to voice an objection. She rose, and said her farewells as the door opened to admit those serving the luncheon. She looked longingly at the trays bearing the covered dishes, for the food smelled delicious and she was famished. But it made no difference; no invitation had been issued and she did not want to press for one. The cheerful conversation which accompanies a pleasant meal swelled behind her as she left the room; then the door shut.

Anne found herself in the entry hall once more, her thoughts in a whirl. She was roused from them by a polite cough. Seated in a chair, awkwardly holding his hat on his lap, was an older man, one of the Musgrove's servants. His homespun clothing looked out of place here, his expression was one of acute discomfort. He rose and pulled his forelock in greeting.

"G'mornin' to ye, Miss Anne. Soon's ye be ready, we'll go. Missus Charles wants ye awful bad, ma'am! An' th' rain's closin' in, it'll be hard goin'." He bowed a little and took his seat again, still holding his rather crushed, weather-beaten hat. Black crepe was wound around its crown.

"Yes, ah, Rodgers, isn't it? Thank you. I won't be long." Anne began to mount the stairs, frowning a little. At least there would be no problem deciding what to pack; she had just arrived several weeks ago.

Upstairs there was a great deal of activity, all centered around her own room. Several maids were in the process of stripping her bed, her personal articles had been removed from the shelves and desk; these were being placed in an open drawer in the bureau. Extra fuel had been brought in for the fire, the windows were being wiped clean. Her trunk stood open in the corner and Elise had already completed most of the packing.

Several other trunks were stacked in the corner; these were unfamiliar to her, and they were wet. They belonged to ... Anne pursed her lips in comprehension. Why of course: Sir William Lucas. Father is pleased because his friend will be able to use my bedroom while I'm gone. How convenient for him. She reached into the open bureau drawer, retrieved several books, and tossed them into the trunk. Mechanically she began to select the remaining items she needed for her stay at Uppercross. Elise came into the room bringing an arrangement of hothouse flowers for the bedside table.

"You needn't worry about hurrying back, dear. Take as long as you need." Anne winced at her father's careless words. Even after all these years, she had not grown completely hardened to the pain of such treatment. She was still as nothing to him, unless she was useful in furthering his concerns.

Now she had to chose the gowns. She sorted through those hanging in the wardrobe, handing the ones she wanted to Elise. Yes, no, no, yes, yes. She needed nothing fine for a stay at Mary's, other than an impromptu dinner or dance, nothing of note happened there, much to Mary's annoyance. Yes, yes, no -- wait. Anne's hand froze as she fiingered the last one: her stiff, black silk, usually reserved for funerals. Funerals? Oh dear God, no! Not that! Rodgers had black crepe on his hat! Anne began to tremble as she pulled the black gown from the wardrobe. Louisa? Dear God, not Louisa! She has just made the journey home, was it ... too much for her?

She quickly instructed Elise to pack the hats and shoes which she usually wore with the gowns she had selected. She grabbed a stack of handkerchiefs from her top drawer, tossed them in the trunk and headed downstairs again. There was absolutely not a moment to lose. Anne left the bedroom without a backward glance.

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