Section I, Next Section
Posted on Sunday, 25 November 2001
Author's note: A few days ago, I saw this wonderful old movie on TV, one that I've seen a thousand times and it got me to thinking... and so now I'm attempting to do something for which I haven't yet done: I'm going to post a story for which I haven't completely written, edited, or rewritten. Nor have I criticized, torn apart, tossed aside, picked back up months later, reviewed, re-drafted, plotted, etc. A first for me. Please be kind...
If any of you are familiar with the original movie 'A Letter to Three Wives' with Jeanne Crain, Linda Darnell and Ann Sothern, or its remake, well... here it is.
All right, since you asked, I'll give you a little hint: right outside my back parlor is the Atlantic Ocean and less than a 30 minute train ride (if I ever deigned to ride one) is the City that never sleeps. A City that I was drawn to from birth and I planned to leave home to go to that great City as soon as I graduated from Vassar; it would've been right after my debut but I needed Daddy's money, and he required that I attend college. Even then I got sidetracked. Pinning my hopes and dreams on something that would never be... at least until today.
Anyway, at the age of 25, I ran to the City and determined to never look back... my heart had been broken and I went there to not only lick my wounds but to sow some wild oats (which I never would've been able to do in our confined and unvarying neighborhood) and live the life that I always wanted. How and why I ended up married are my own reasons. And if you had known those reasons, you would say that my divorce was for the very same... but don't ask. I'm not telling.
After that fiasco I came back home to Primrose Street in the 'distinguished' section of Maple Grove in the sleepy town of... Oh, that's right, I'm not supposed to say. Well, since I revealed the street and section, I might as well tell you all something more. Maple Grove is a great mixture of have's and have not's; some who belong and others who do not; some on their way up while others are on their way out. Great brick mansions down to tiny little wooden cottages. You'd think the city planners would've done a better job of keeping out the riff-raff for all the taxes we pay, but... Regardless, I did manage to make a few good friends at an early age and we've remained so since then. You know what they say about 'keeping friends close and your enemies closer...' Oh, I'm sure that you do. But this is not about enemies; this is about my dearest friends in all the world.
Around the corner and down the street are the Tilneys. Ah Henry... not much money, but a whole lot of fun. Henry and I are the same age, but I'm not telling you anymore than that. Several years ago, he took a trip down to seminary training in, get this: Connecticut, and brought back a bride. A country girl. Quite young and inexperienced, but a good sort of girl. Pliable, malleable... just the way I like them. The former Catherine Morland and I were immediate friends. And over the years, I even believe I managed to school her on being a proper society wife. Why, you ask, would I trifle with such a thing, when they had no money? Henry did have money, old money, but when his father did not approve of his bride, he threatened to disown him. Henry, of course, told his father to keep his money, as he would not need it either way. Pfffth! Well, despite the curses that the General bestowed upon them, the young Tilneys are on their way up... and if Catherine has anything to do with it, they will continue. She's got more spunk than I gave her credit for and is determined; I'll give you that, to make a mountain out of a molehill. She writes a syndicated column for one of the City newspapers and that nice bit of income supplements her husband's meager salary. And with that increase they were able to afford a nice duplex (that the Dashwoods were so kind enough to remove themselves from) in the same section where he grew up, although they have yet to speak to his father. Henry, if and when he chooses to, could charm the birds out of a tree. Pragmatic yet mesmerizing in his speech with twinkling eyes that rival the brightest stars. Catherine, with her curly brown hair, willowy figure, eyes as wide as saucers is pretty enough, I suppose... They're a happy little family... and if that's the kind of woman Henry's happy with, then I'm happy for him.
On my right are the Darcys. William or Will (or Fitzwilliam, if he allows you to call him that) Darcy was destined to make money. I had every faith that he would take his father's tri-state business and expand it on the global front. Which he did - with great panache and little fanfare. Will is 3 years older than Anne, Henry and myself but we came to love him and it was reciprocated. He grew up and still lives in one of the grandest houses here in Maple Grove (equal to my own, of course) and because of his looks, stature and rank he was well sought after by one and all society Misses. Instead, he married one of his... salespersons... from New Jersey, of all places. That would've been scandalous to his parents, but they are deceased and he is his own man and always has been... in every way. He doesn't like deception of any kind, except from his wife. Her name is, was, Elizabeth Bennet (why she prefers Lizzy is lost to me). Will, with one brief look, could tell you exactly how he feels with his intense gaze and depending on the turn of his thin, unyielding lips, you would know whether to run to him or away from him. He is such a presence. Lizzy - a stunning brunette, with eyes that I've heard sometimes call fine, though I could never see any beauty in her. Her dark features aren't the only thing that's dark about her. Wrong side of the tracks and all that, but her arts and allurements must've drawn him in. She's brash and rough around the edges and isn't afraid of anything or anyone, including her husband. But I think I've taught her a thing or two about being genteel. They make a great looking couple and one would think that by the way they argue, in public no less, that they hated each other... one might be right. Then again, one might be entirely in the wrong. I, however, know the truth.
Three doors to my left are the Wentworths. Anne and I have been friends from the crib for she is an Elliot, of course. We went though primary and secondary private schools together, even debuted together. Anne was always the shy and unassuming type; that's probably why Rick fell for her hook, line and sinker. Jocks always do. I got to know her husband during our sophomore year in high school - they met at football game, where he was the star senior quarterback and she was in the full bloom of her youth. Anne and Rick had been in love since that evening and only the outbreak of war (or so she says) prevented their immediately marrying after graduation. But I know her father had something to do with it, as Rick was not from our social circles (if you know what I mean). Rick went off to war to fight the evil empire and always-steady Anne remained at home to be quiet and confined in her love. Eight years later, Rick came home all-bemedaled and claimed Anne's hand. Only after her father discovered that not only had he mismanaged their family's financial holdings, but that Rick had more than enough money of his own (he managed to squeeze in a few years of professional football) did he finally give his consent. Although they didn't need it. Mr. Elliot was forced out of his home and Anne and her husband purchased it. And while Anne may never have been a true beauty with her mousy brown hair and expressive eyes, she has carriage: strength and composure. But there was always something about Rick that was both charming and disarming - something way deep down that he shows only to intimates and rarely then... if he and Anne seem well matched to you, well... that's your opinion. Mine may differ. Then again, it may not.
For the last five years, I visited home, on occasion, when the mood hit me. Dropping in on my favorite people, delighting them in word and song, and leaving them wanting more. But it wasn't until my 'triumphant' return home a year ago (after my divorce, of course) that I accepted my rightful place in Maple Grove's society (at the top) and with all the dinners, social functions and charity work Anne, Cathy and Lizzy are my dearest, dearest friends. No sensible woman could ask for better.
So here we are. You now know my friends and how they're connected to me, but you have yet to know the purpose of my summation or who I am. As I said at the very beginning 'you'll wish you hadn't got to know me' because tonight... Tonight, I'm running away with one of my dearest friends' husband.
Author's note: I will attempt to try my hand in the third person by including the lady's (if you can call her that) vocal comments in blue - imagine a deep sultry voice dripping with veiled venom... Catherine bounced down the staircase - a youthful spring in her step despite 6 years of marriage and a growing 5 year-old baby boy.
"Good morning, darling," Tilney greeted from the breakfast table.
Good morning, darling.
"Good morning."
He stood and kissed her chastely on her cheek. "Is my son not joining us?" He held out her chair.
"Thank you. He's already had his breakfast, Henry, and I don't want him to get his clothes stained before he reaches his play group."
"Oh, I see," he mumbled disappointedly and sat down. His son, little Henry, was the light of his life and he relished every moment spent with him.
She scraped the remaining eggs and bacon on her plate. "You woke up rather late today... any reason?"
Dreaming of me, of course.
"None whatsoever."
She raised an eyebrow - her husband was every day up with the sun - but decided not to follow through on her query. "I've already picked up your tuxedo for the ball tonight and..."
"Ah yes, the Annual Spring Ball. I hope your dance card has a few places for your husband?"
Just as long as you don't mind sharing him.
"Of course it does." She bit into her toast. "We're to meet at the Wentworths for drinks prior to."
"I might be late."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I have a meeting this afternoon and it might run overlong. I'll try to give you a call... if I can."
I might provide a few reasons for you not to call.
"Oh." Catherine busied herself with pushing around her food around the plate. "Perhaps I should wait for you."
"No, you shouldn't. You're on the committee."
"How would it look? Me, arriving... without my husband."
Now that might be worth seeing...
"I don't know why you continuously worry about what others will say. The town loves you... as they should." He unfolded his newspaper. "What are you wearing?"
She frowned. "I haven't decided."
"But I thought you were going to wear that little black number I bought for you from the City last week?"
"I never told you that. I don't know why you keep on insisting."
He startled momentarily at her harsh tone. "Well... I..."
"It's not my style."
"When I saw it in the window, I thought immediately of you. You know I don't normally waste money on frilly things, the least you could do was to wear it... tonight."
"You thought immediately of me, did you?"
"Of course."
"For some reason I don't believe you."
Neither do I.
"Cathy..." Tilney looked at her curiously; he thought this had all been settled weeks ago. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She rose without finishing her breakfast. "Nothing at all."
He stood as well and practically leapt over the table to grab her arm. "I think we should talk about... whatever is going on."
"I have to go."
"A man must love his wife as a part of himself; and the wife must see to it that she respects her husband..."
"Fine then." She lifted her chin. "That gown that you saw in the window... that gown that I would've never looked at... was the very same dress that Mary Crawford had on two weeks ago at our anniversary party and you haven't been able to stop drooling over it since." Catherine shook herself free and ran up the stairs.
So now you know who I am. Mary Crawford - belle of the ball, queen of the court, leader of the pack. That's me.
Tilney stood in the hallway and watched his wife take her leave.
She glided through the massive French doors to the dining room.
He looked at her attire with a detached air. "On pleasure bent again, Lizzy?"
It won't be half as much fun as to what I have planned...
"You know exactly where I'm going." Elizabeth sat down at the table.
"Yes... at least I know where you'll be... today," Darcy sneered. He had no proof, but he was almost certain that she was sleeping around on him. It ate at him, minutely.
A true lady never tells... except when it's to my advantage. And I'm quite accomplished at giving hints.
Elizabeth ignored his comment and self-consciously fixed the scarf around her neck. "The boat leaves in little more than an hour and, barring any unforeseen circumstances, I should be back in time to take a long bath before we have to meet at the Wentworths."
"Taking the underprivileged tikes around for an entire afternoon is sure to wear you out. You sure you'll be able to manage attending the Ball?"
"I know you don't want to go, but don't try and finagle me into your schemes."
"I wasn't talking about my schemes, dearest. I was talking about yours."
"Fitzwilliam, are you going or not?"
"You know that I despise dancing." He also despised it when she called him by his full-first name; it was not kindly meant when she used it.
He loves it when I call him by that name.
"Yes, I know." She raised an eyebrow. "But it's your civic duty."
"What do you know about civic duty, except for what I tell you or what Mary has shown you."
"Ah, here we go again!" she spat. "Mary Crawford this and Mary Crawford that! I'm sick of Mary Crawford!"
Who would've thought...?
"You're not sick, you're just jealous."
I knew it all along.
"Jealous? Me?"
"She has what you can't buy and that's class."
Elizabeth threw her napkin down on her plate and stood up. "Then why'd you marry me?!"
Because I dumped him... Silly me.
"That's the way you wanted it, wasn't it? I told you I didn't want to, but you were rather... persistent." Darcy cocked his head to the side and raised a disdainful eyebrow - banking his meaning on his last word.
"No, you were rather persistent!" she replied haughtily. "You wanted something from me that I wasn't willing to give without a ring on my finger. You could've gone elsewhere and gotten what you desired... for free!"
"Yes, my dear. You definitely weren't free and I paid dearly." It was a perverse game he played; he would taunt her just so he could glimpse the magic fire in her eyes.
She glared at him for a few seconds and then calmly asked, "Are you coming tonight or what?"
"I'll let you know." Darcy dismissed her with a wave of his hand and went back to eating his breakfast.
Elizabeth turned on her heels and strode away.
HONK! HONK!
"I'll be right out!" Anne called from the front lawn. "I just need to make sure I've got enough money on me to pay for twins' baby-sitter!"
"All right!" Cathy responded through the open passenger window. "But we're already 10 minutes behind schedule!"
Anne nodded at her and walked right past her husband without looking at him.
"Good morning, Cathy!" Wentworth smiled through the window.
"Happy birthday, Rick."
Happy birthday, darling.
"Thank you!" he smiled. "Another friend who didn't forget me. Lovely day, isn't it?"
"Yes. Not fishing today?"
"No. I have a meeting in the City. Is my tie on straight?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes it is. I..."
"It's a good thing you're doing today. Kids need a chance to be kids without having to worry sometimes, where their next meal is coming from." Wentworth smiled fondly. "Mary was right, yet again!"
I'm always right because I plan ahead.
"Yes, always right," Catherine said automatically and without feeling. "What do you have there?"
"Oh... this?" He pulled the package from underneath his arm. "A lithograph. A Y. A. Tittle lithograph with his embossed signature..." he answered with a far away look in his eyes.
"Y. A. Tittle?" she whistled. "May I see it?"
"Sure." He handed the package through the window. "I knew you liked football, but I never realized you knew about players from days of yore."
Our resident little tomboy... there's always one in the crowd.
"I sure do. Can't be helped with an avid father and 3 older brothers." Catherine uncovered it. "Oh! What happened?"
His countenance changed to dark and somber. "Someone... spilled wine all over it last night... deliberately."
Oh?
"Oh?"
"Well, I must be off. Enjoy the wilderness!"
"Goodbye Rick." She frowned at him, but he had already turned away. "Have a nice day."
Oh, he will. I'm absolutely certain that he will.
Wentworth walked back up the path, passed his wife and jumped into his car.
"Sorry about that!" Anne closed the passenger door a moment later. "Men are no help in the mornings when you need to get the kids ready and everything prepared..."
Catherine pulled onto the road. "I'm surprised that Rick's not going fishing today?"
"Isn't he?" she answered distractedly.
"Didn't you notice that he was in his favorite blue pinstripe?"
"What day is it?"
The first day of the rest of my life. I'll be sure to send you a postcard.
"Saturday."
"Hmm? Well..." she shrugged.
"He said he had a meeting."
"My Rick? On a Saturday?"
"Your Rick."
"Well... I suppose he mentioned it. It seems we're not speaking to each other this morning. Or at least he's not speaking to me."
"What? Problems on the home front?"
"I forgot his birthday... again."
You were just too busy. Tsk. Tsk.
"Oh dear!" Catherine gasped.
"I'm afraid he hasn't forgiven me yet." Anne rolled her eyes in remembrance of the previous night. "I won't have time to pick up something today and I forgot to tell Mrs. Hill to make a layer cake tonight. Oh well..."
"Did you want us to bring our presents tonight? I mean... it might be awkward..."
"No," she sighed and pursed her lips into a scowl. "Mary sent hers special delivery right before dinner last night..."
I can't help it if I'm thoughtful... The early bird catches the worm.
"Mary, Mary, Mary!" Cathy hissed. "Do you ever get the feeling that her name passes your husband's lips more than your own name?"
Wouldn't you like to know...?
"Problems on the homefront?"
"It's just that..."
"You know the old adage 'if you don't have something nice to say...'"
"And I don't."
"I wonder if she knows that we talk about her and how we truly feel about her?"
I know exactly what you say about me.
"I'm sure she does, just as I'm sure she's reveling in it."
I am.
"Let's find something else to talk about. I don't want Mary Crawford intruding upon my morning any further." Anne reached for the radio.
"It's broken." Cathy shrugged.
And if you didn't talk about me, I wonder that you would have anything to say to each other at all.
"Oh well..."
I'm really surprised at some of you dwiggies... Relegating me to the same class as some of the most ridiculous women in all the land. You used me very ill. Very ill, indeed. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness and I'll certainly not depart from it now. Let's review some of your speculations as to whom you thought I was:
Louisa Bingley-Hurst? She cares for nothing but her gaudy baubles and her worthless husband. In that order.
Augusta Hawkins-Elton? That vain witch? You do me a great disservice. There's certainly a deplorable lack of silk and lace since she was taken away by her little puppet. Good riddance to overdressed rubbish.
Maria Bertram? A puppy and easily dismissed.
Isabella Thorpe? The vulgar tease who actually thinks she'll snare the Captain? That tomcat will scratch his claws on her carpet for a moment then go on to sniffing some other feline.
As for the likes of Lucy Steele-Ferrars? A common name for a common... Well, you get my drift. Her idea of nepotism boggles the mind.
Emma Woodhouse-Knightley? She's the matchmaker; I'm the home-wrecker.
And finally... Julia Bertram-Rushworth? Her insipid husband's divorcing her - which is a disgrace in itself, for no woman of good breeding would allow the fool to file for it first. She won't get a dime. And all this mess over my dim-witted brother? He loves the chase, but tires of the catch. I give it 6 months to a year.
I am seriously displeased at your illustrations of my character and I caution every last one of you dwiggies... I am not one to be trifle with.Caroline Bingley? If she is a beauty, I'd as soon call my brother a wit. I put her in the same category as Elizabeth Elliot - severely lacking in subtlety and still unmarried.
Elizabeth drove her sleek black Mercedes Benz up to the dock and parked. She got out and lit a cigarette but before she could take a refreshing drag, she was interrupted.
"Mrs. Darcy! Mrs. Darcy!" a lady called as she ran down the plank. "You are wanted immediately!"
"Yes Miss Bates, what is it?"
"The Captain is ready to ship off and none of the other ladies have arrived yet."
"They're not here yet?" Elizabeth looked around to confirm it with her own eyes. "Oh, holy...!" There was no way she could monitor 40+ children - currently screaming their heads off and running around like... well, like children - by herself. "Um... well..."
Just at that moment, Catherine pulled the Volvo up to the dock.
"Thank God!" she sighed in relief - cigarette long forgotten between her fingers but burning still.
"Sorry we're late!" Anne smiled at her friend's flushed face.
"Come along then!" Miss Bates pushed them all forward. "Where's Miss Crawford?"
"I thought she was coming with you?" asked Anne.
"No, she called this morning and left a message that she wasn't feeling well enough to join us," answered Elizabeth with a frown - her husband was very happy to have had the opportunity to talk to Mary and to relay her message.
The feeling is definitely mutual.
"Leave it to Mary to plan all this and duck out when it's time to do the dirty work!" hissed Catherine.
Honestly. Do you really see me as doing manual labor?
"Oh, but she'll be there for the credit," Elizabeth smirked.
Not this time... but you may take it in my absence.
"Don't you worry you're pretty little head about it."
"Believe me, I'm not. At the rate my day is going, I don't think I could stand an entire day with Mary Crawford."
Nor I, you.
Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Catherine as they walked. "Hang in there, kiddo. You're not the only one."
"Come along, ladies! Please?" Miss Bates pushed onward and upwards. "The Captain is waiting!"
"Sure thing, Hettie. Just let me take a last drag..." Elizabeth said.
Anne and Cathy watched her enviously; wishing they had the opportunity to have one before they cast off, but Tilney doesn't like the smell in his car and Catherine being the good wife and mother quit. Anne just didn't have the time to grab hers off the nightstand.
They all boarded the boat and in no time were on their merry way.
"Good morning, ladies!" Captain Denny smiled his greeting.
"Good morning!" they all returned.
"Who's minding the store?" Elizabeth asked with a cheeky grin.
They were barely 10 feet from the dock. "Don't worry, we're under capable hands."
"Capable hands, eh? I wonder..."
Not now, Lizzy. At least wait until you have him to yourself.
Anne elbowed Elizabeth in the ribs to stop her words for she knew something slightly lewd would come from her mouth.
"I've been commissioned with a very important missive." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter. "This is for you."
The moment I've been waiting for...
They all looked at it.
"It's from Miss Crawford and addressed to each of you."
Anne took it and thanked the Captain. He and Miss Bates walked away.
To my dearest friends: Elizabeth Darcy, Catherine Tilney and Anne Wentworth
"Oh look," Elizabeth drawled sarcastically. "She put us in alphabetical order."
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Proper etiquette, darling!"
"Proper etiquette my a..." Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Mary Crawford would never put my name first on anything unless she wanted something from me."
Hmmm? Perhaps...
Anne began to tear open the envelope.
"Do we really want her condescension this morning?" asked Catherine while holding Anne's hands at bay.
"No, but I'm dying to see what she writes," said Anne and finished with the unveiling.
Dearest friends: Anne, Cathy and LizzyI'm sure, by now, you're all wondering if I'm feeling better. I am. Thank you for thinking of me. Your kindness knows no limits. And now that you're assured of my well-being, I'll get right to the point.
When you return to shore and go on about your evening at the Annual Spring Ball, don't look for me. I won't be there. I'll be jetting off to some spectacular island paradise. I'm sure you'll miss me. Of that I have no doubt. And one of you will be missing something more dear to you than myself. You haven't a clue, do you? I know. It's exactly as I planned. You won't know what you're missing until you get home. By that time, I'll be flying away to pleasures beyond heaven with one of your husbands.
Bon Voyage!
And Thank You for sharing!Mary Crawford
"Oh-my-God..." Catherine gasp-whispered.
"Ha!" Anne snorted. "What a fine joke!"
"I've never known Mary Crawford to have a sense of humor," Elizabeth gritted.
"You're not taking her seriously are you?" Anne asked incredulous.
Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
"You aren't?" Cathy asked, deathly pale.
"No, dear." Anne grasped her hand. "I've known Mary longer than any of you. This is just her way of shaking things up."
"Whatever you say..." Elizabeth sniffed. "But you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"
"I can't believe you two!" Anne exclaimed. "When we get back to shore, you'll see," she admonished. "Come on, let's enjoy this beautiful morning and the sea breeze."
They all turned to the railing and espied a public telephone booth, just pass the lowered gangplank - no more than 200 hundred feet away and looked at the booth longingly; suspecting, questioning, wondering...
Much better! I wonder who'll be shocked the most?
Elizabeth pulled out her pack of cigarettes, took one out, offered one to Anne and Catherine - which they both accepted - and lit up. After a few puffs, Catherine felt light-headed and tossed hers into the water.
Lunch on the steamer was a hectic event. The children had run themselves out and were ready for a bit of refreshment to add another burst of energy. Anne, Catherine and Elizabeth worked diligently and efficiently by making sandwiches and juice and after assuring themselves that all the children had partaken, they ate.
I dislike children; they tie you down - the wife stays at home while the husband is free...
Catherine had taken her meal on the top deck; she needed some sun and with the half of the children running around upstairs, someone needed to monitor them as well.
"Well now!" Anne wiped her mouth. "That was delicious."
"Ummm!" Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.
Anne checked the chart. "We'll have to divide up Mary's duties since she's not here... today." She placed emphasis on the last word to make a point.
"I'll be cleaning up," said Elizabeth indifferently. "If you need help with anything else... look me up, I should be easy to find."
Check the crew deck first.
"After you clean up, would you be willing to read to the children?"
"That, my dear Anne, should fall to you. You're very good with fairy tales."
"Lizzy..."
"And while you're at it, keep an eye on Cathy, she could use a good fable right now."
I like a good bedtime story myself. But there are no books allowed on my getaway... we'll make up our own.
"You don't think...?"
"I might." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Then again, I might not."
"You don't seem worried." Anne returned the gesture.
"I have all I want."
"Do you?"
"If Will decided to leave me... why should I care? I've got everything I want."
I'm sure you do. But you know the old saying 'you don't miss the water 'till the well runs dry...'
"Lizzy, you put on the hard edge but I know you..."
"No you don't, Anne. You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth and your every wish fulfilled. I had to fight for everything I got. Cathy's in almost the same boat, except she had to fight for the respect these townsfolk rarely give to outsiders. Me, I don't care." Elizabeth tucked a wisp of a curl that was blowing in her face behind her ear. "Luck seems to be with you though. You'll come out on top once again."
"What do you mean?"
"Rick wasn't Mary's first love." Nor her second... "So you needn't worry." Elizabeth walked away to begin her chores.
You think that, if it gives you comfort.
"Anne, if you don't need me right now," Cathy said as she walked down the steps. "I'm going to read with some of the girls."
"Thanks Cathy. I was trying to get Lizzy to do a read, but..."
"She doesn't have any children and doesn't know how to relate."
Have you never wondered why...?
"She doesn't want to, you mean."
Catherine shrugged.
"I just thought it might do her some good." Anne and Catherine looked at Elizabeth as she folded up the deck tables and put them in a wall locker. "But... she prefers to say busy."
"Don't we all..." Cathy mumbled under her breath and rubbed her stomach. "Candace is going to read to us," she said aloud. "Would you like to join in?"
"No, thank you. I'll just go check on the weather and mind the boys."
"All right." She waved her off and sat down in a chair.
Remember when Cathy first came to us, Anne? Hideous dress, teary-eyed, and slightly... tipsy. Definitely not one of us. I could never understand why Henry married her... I suppose it was her innocence. But innocence fades...
Anne stood where she was and watched her friend for a few minutes.
Author's note: The Wives' flashbacks will be in red.
You're being silly, Cathy! There's no reason to suspect that it's Henry... Oh G-d, but what if it is? My baby won't even know its father... Such strong emotions were carved on her face until she sat down and looked at the sweet little cherubim sitting next to her. "Candace, what have you chosen?"
The young girl looked down at the book.
"Cinderella. One of my favorites." Catherine smiled encouragingly to her. "Are you ready?"
Once upon a time in a little kingdom called Maple Grove, there lived the most beautiful Princess in all the world...
"Yes Ma'am," she smiled shyly then flipped on the book. "Once upon a time, though it was not in my time or in your time, or in anybody else's time, there was a great King who had an only son, the prince and heir who was about to come of age. So the King sent round a herald who should blow his trumpet at every four corners where two roads met. And when the people came together he would call out, 'O yes, O yes, O yes, know ye that his Grace the King will give on Monday sennight -- that meant seven nights or a week after -- 'a royal ball to which all maidens of noble birth are hereby summoned; and be it furthermore known unto you that at this ball his Highness the Prince will select unto himself a lady that shall be his bride and our future Queen. God save the King...'"
'God save the King. God save the King.' Catherine leaned back in her chair and let the words of the herald reverberate and the lapping of the waves sweep over her.
As Catherine drifted off to private reverie 'God save the King' changed subtly and slowly to 'With this ring'.
"Oh darling!" Catherine ran down the steps - loose curlers bobbing and weaving in her hair. "Thank God you're early!"
"Of course I am, honey. You practically begged me to."
"Did you remember to stop by the liquor store?"
Tilney pulled the bag out from under his coat. "You know how I feel about this, Cathy. I don't drink and I don't promote it."
"You don't have to worry about it then, since I'm paying for it."
"Ah." That comment cut him to the quick but he decided to let it pass.
She opened the bag. "Sparkling Cider?!"
"Yes." He answered with a steady look. "It's non-alcoholic."
She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Well, it's too late to go and get something else..."
"You would be getting it yourself then."
"As I said, it's too late and I have other things to worry about."
"What are we having this evening?"
"Coq au Vin, steamed vegetables, fruit salad, etc. Nothing too heavy."
"Do they like children?"
"Of course!"
"Do they have any of their own?"
"I... I don't believe that was mentioned in their bio." Catherine turned this way and that - unsure of what to do next. "They're an older couple... got married in their later 40's I think. Major money. Hands in every pocket."
"I see. What religion are they?"
"Oh no, Henry! Please? In polite company, politics and religion are not allowed."
"I asked you a simple question, my dear: 'what religion are they?'"
"I don't know," she fidgeted. "Those curtains must go!"
"Tonight?"
"No, silly! But first thing tomorrow morning." She backed up and sat down. "Yes, I think a... Oh!" She stood up and began to fluff the pillows.
"What are you doing?"
"Fluffing the pillows," she smirked at him.
"Yes, but why?"
"When entertaining important guests, everything must look well-preserved. It's supposed to look like we just moved in."
He had to shake his head. "So, Miss Manners, shall I polish the silver?"
She wrinkled her nose at him. "When I get that fat bonus check, I'm going to buy us some real silver and better china."
"I see no reason to waste money."
"Of course, you don't dear, because we don't have any," she answered condescendingly and walked past him. "Come along. I laid out something nice for you to wear tonight."
"What's wrong with what I have on now?" He followed her up the stairs.
"It's not... I hate it."
"I love this jacket! Mary gave it to me last year, remember?"
"Yes I do," she gritted. "The color and the cut..."
"Beauty, wit, no artifice. Mary Crawford is everything good and kind."
Catherine rolled her eyes before opening the door to their bedroom. "See I what I bought you?"
"A tuxedo?"
"Isn't it divine!"
"For tonight?"
"Yes."
"I thought this was just an informal dinner party?"
"It is, but I want you to look your best."
"Can we afford such a luxury?"
"Oh, it's fine if we get expensive gifts from Mary Crawford, but I can't buy you a simple tuxedo?" she hissed.
"This is not a simple tuxedo, honey."
"Well, it's my money and I'll spend it as I see fit!" she spat and stormed into her dressing room.
It was unspoken between them, but Tilney knew how important these advertising people were to his wife's future and therefore he would be on his best behavior... well, he would try.
"Henry, this is Mrs. Anne de Bourgh and her husband Mr. William Collins."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Collins. Please, have a seat?"
"My name is de Bourgh," she sniffed snottily and sat down. "Anne de Bourgh."
"I thought my wife introduced you as husband and wife?"
"That is correct. But my mother made it to the top in the tough world of advertising as Catherine de Bourgh and by God everyone will use it."
"I apologize Miss... er, Mrs. de Bourgh..."
Catherine smiled at her husband, then frowned when he sat at the edge of his seat - which was a signal that she knew well; he would not let this go.
"But the bible teaches us that the man is the head of the family and the woman should take his name. Surely, you can have no objections to that?"
"I have no objections, I just don't choose to follow them. When all the annals are read for history's sake, my name would never be mentioned in any of them. Everyone must remember the name 'de Bourgh'."
"I'm not sure I understand your point, Madam. If your mother climbed to the top as de Bourgh are you saying that you would lose it if you changed it to Collins?"
"That is not what I meant," she sneered. "You have no idea how hard it would be for me to notify everyone that either knows me or knew my mother or that knows of us, that I've changed my name. Quite possibly millions of people."
"Would about airing a commercial?" Duh! Isn't that your business?
"We've pondered the idea, but I'm quite satisfied with how things are now. In any event, you're still wet behind the ears, young man. You learn soon enough."
"Pardon me?"
"Your wife there. She might want to change back to her maiden name before she becomes more famous."
"I highly doubt that!" Tilney snorted. "Cathy knows where I stand on that issue."
"I think..." interjected Mr. Collins humbly. "... that, in our case, as in many others, if the husband does not object, there is no problem."
"Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife and they shall be one flesh..."
"Exactly as I've always said, Reverend Tilney... a man shall cleave unto his wife. Mr. Collins cleaves unto me. We are as one."
"You've managed to twist..."
"I think diner must be ready!" Catherine interrupted hastily. "Darling would you help me, please?"
Tilney hid his mirth for his wife's sake. "Of course, darling."
"I teach Advanced Composition at the local high school."
"Very impressive," Mrs. de Bourgh smiled at Tilney. "Do you let him watch TV?" she asked while pointing to their son.
"No."
"What... my husband means to say is... not much TV." Catherine smiled nervously. "He's still very young."
"What a better age than now? Television is geared towards the younger generation, it's educational, interesting and entertaining."
"And the commercials, my dear, if I may venture to say," offered Mr. Collins.
"Especially the commercials!" she smiled at her husband.
"And how are commercials educational?" asked Tilney.
Catherine groaned and rolled her eyes.
"Take for example, the cereal ads. If one pays particular attention, one finds them so."
"I must have missed that lecture in college," he mumbled under his breath. "Which one... in particular?"
"Would you like some more wine, Mrs. de Bourgh?" Catherine interrupted.
The lady waved her away and by this movement caught the time on her watch. "Oh no!" she shrieked.
"Good God! Whatever is the matter?" Mr. Collins asked in fright.
"We've already missed 15 minutes of Dark Angel, my dear!" Mrs. de Bourgh got up from the dining room table, completely ignoring Tilney's last comment, and walked into the living room, her husband scurrying behind her. "Bring the boy along, Catherine."
Mr. Collins had already turned on the television to his wife's favorite channel.
The minutes ticked by and turned into hours; dinner - half eaten and cold, Catherine in a chair holding her son in her arms, Tilney gritting back his anger at having to watch a show about demons and such, Mrs. de Bourgh's and Mr. Collins' attention wrapped up in the weekly series.
"Now there was a pleasant ending... You see, love conquers all. What do say, Catherine?"
"Huh?" At being addressed, she snapped out of her boredom. "Oh yes, very educational."
"Your wife agrees with me, Reverend."
"I don't."
"Well, it really doesn't matter, does it. Demographics show that children and mothers are the primary audience, men really have no say so. No opinion whatsoever, am I right, dear?"
"Of course you are, dear!" Mr. Collins spouted. "Men have no opinion at all."
"Henry really doesn't watch TV," Catherine smiled at her guests but did not meet her husband's gaze. "So we can suppose that he really doesn't have an opinion... yet."
"My child fell asleep after the first 5 minutes, Mrs. de Bourgh." He took his son from his wife's arms. "I think he has clearly expressed the opinions of the male's in this household."
"He is truly obstinate, Catherine, and does not yield easily." She tsked and shook her head. "I'm sorry for you, but I see no place for him... at least not at de Bourgh Advertising."
"Of what are you speaking?"
"You can be at no loss as to understand the reason why I'm here tonight, Reverend Tilney."
"I thought it was for your pleasant company?" He gave a sideways look to his wife.
"I... I didn't have a chance... to..."
"Catherine thought it a great idea for me to hire you as one of the writers on my staff and this little dinner party was to be an informal interview, but you state your opinions most decidedly for so young a person... and I cannot abide with that."
"I'm surprised at Cathy for even suggesting such a thing." He may have been addressing the lady, but he never took his eyes off his wife. "She knows how I feel about it. I would never sell my soul to write some simple-minded drivel just for the sake of a big payoff."
"There is where your wife and yourself divert in your beliefs. Catherine doesn't feel she's selling her soul, as you say, she's more interested in uplifting the masses than you are. Your pretty speeches only reach to the end of this street, while hers reach millions. If you become the breadwinner in your family again, Reverend, I'm sure you'll be able to sway the majority opinion a time or two. But as I know that your income is far below hers, I'll consider the subject closed."
Tilney's jaw twitched, his eyes darkened, and he rubbed his sleeping son's back to calm his own anger. "Then I know you won't mind if I don't see you out. Goodnight."
"What did you think you were doing?"
Catherine breathed deeply. The evening had been a complete and utter disaster and she did not want to argue. "It was a good idea at the time, Henry."
"A good idea?"
"Yes. A chance for us to start living as I always dreamed we would."
"You're not satisfied then?"
"I am... I just... I just want more. At least I'm trying," she said petulantly.
"You know I'm all for equal rights, equal pay, etc., and I applaud you for going out into the workforce and making a success of your labors and contributing to our home, but must you emasculate me in the process?"
She was startled by his biting words. "I..."
"Lately... Lately, you've said a few things to me that have disturbed me deeply, which I have been remiss in correcting, but none so much as tonight."
"Henry, I..."
He waved a hand to stop her from apologizing before he had his say. "I know the meager salary of mere Preacher/Schoolteacher is nothing to that of a nationally known columnist." He talked slowly and quietly and his once twinkling eyes were now dark and foreboding. "However, if it means that I am somehow less than a husband... less than a man, I know where the door is." He was deadly serious. "I don't need a map or a drawing and you need not show me the way."
Catherine's lips trembled. "I'm sorry!" she squeaked out.
Tilney looked at her for less than a moment. "I'm going out for a walk." He closed the bedroom door behind him.
"... And so they were married and lived happy ever afterwards."
Or not...
The applause of the young ladies awoke Catherine from her daydreams. "Just lovely... er, Candace. Thank you very much. You did a wonderful job and you're very much improved in your reading."
"Thank you, Mrs. Tilney," the girl whispered; not used to such generosity of praise.
She's so sweet... everybody loves Cathy.
The boat jerked as it slowed its engine. She looked starboard for signs of land and was pleased to see it. "All right girls, I want you to sit quietly for a minute... we should be hitting shore soon."
They all nodded eagerly. Catherine took off the sweater that was gathered around her shoulders and stood up. She wobbled to the railing and raised her face up to the sun. That was a month ago... it's all forgot and we're fine now. Henry loves me.
But how did you leave your husband this morning? With my name hanging in the air between you...
"It's going to be a lovely day, isn't it?"
"Yes Miss Bates. Lovely."
"Cathy, could you give us a hand?" called Elizabeth.
"Sure."
The equipment: nets, balls, hoops, bats, mitts and the like had been unloaded onto the island. Elizabeth had taken a rest on the side of a large rock and was the picture of exhaustion with a cigarette in her mouth.
"Taking a breather?"
"If you must know, yes."
"Well..." said Anne as she threw a blanket down and plopped herself on it and threw the other one behind her head to lay upon the rock. "I hope you don't mind if I join you?"
Please do. I'm dying to hear what you have to say.
"Take a load off," Elizabeth smirked. "Where's Cathy?" she asked as she handed the pack to her friend.
"Taking some of the kids on a hike." She took out a cigarette. "Thanks. It seems your method of keeping busy has settled on her at the same time its left you."
"She needs it." Elizabeth took the pack back, stashed it in her breast pocket and struck a match. "She's been rather pale all morning."
"I tried talking to her, but she insists she's fine." Anne took the light and ignited her cigarette before blowing out the match and digging it into the dirt. "I'll ring Mary's neck for making that poor girl worry... next time I see her."
As much as I'd love to see you try, I'll be otherwise engaged.
"You hesitated there, Anne. I thought you were the confident one."
"Oh, I'm confident all right. But it does make you wonder, doesn't it?"
Elizabeth shrugged and watched the kids play 'Ring Around the Rosey'.
The cigarette made her a little fuzzy, so Anne lay fully back onto the blanket and watched the smoke rings twirl lazily before her. The song 'Ring Around the Rosey. A pocket full of posies' seemed to drift slowly and melodically up from the children's voices and call to her mind her last words. 'Makes you wonder. Makes you wonder.'
"Honey, why are you rushing around so?"
"Oh Rick, you're here!"
Wentworth was taken aback - his wife never rushed and never raised her voice. He went to kiss her but she backed away. "Anne...?"
"Darling, not now! I need you to get the boys cleaned up and keep them that way while I finish cleaning the house!"
He grabbed her hand mid-flail. "What in the world has gotten into you?"
"My father and sister are coming for dinner tonight. Tonight!"
"Oh Lord...!" he groaned and released her.
"I know!" She teared up. "Please, please, please, don't argue?"
"Not unless I'm provoked," he mumbled under his breath. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" he said aloud.
"They just called... out of the blue! An hour ago!"
Before the usual curses normally reserved for her family came, he breathed deeply. "I'll take care of the boys, but why do you need to clean the house?"
"It's just... messy!"
"It's not messy. There is no mess. Besides, isn't that what we pay Mrs. Hill to do?"
"Oh! You don't understand!" she sobbed. "You're just a man!"
Wentworth chuckled and then pulled Anne into his strong embrace. "I want you to listen to me," he said calmly and slowly. "I know this is the first time that they've allowed you to entertain them and I know that you want to make an impression, but you're not going to do anybody any good with this helter-skelter frenzy." She whimpered something inaudible into his chest and he smiled. "May I remind you that under this very roof, you've served more important people than your father and sister. Mayors and Governors have lauded your virtues on keeping a good house, a good table, and fine children." There was a pause as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. "And I love you."
"I love you too." She softly kissed his lips. "Now go and take care of the boys. I'll lay something out for you."
"Really Anne!" her elder sister sneered as they walked in the front door. "Brown?! You painted the house, brown?"
"It's not brown," Anne replied calmly. "It's sandstone."
"It's always been white - Antique White. Why on earth would you change it?"
"Rick and..."
"Well, I should've known," she interrupted. "When one comes from the gutter, he most certainly brings the gutter with him."
Anne prayed for strength and gave thanks that her husband was still upstairs with the children.
"Surely, you had some say in the matter?" her father inserted. "This is your house after all."
"Yes, I..."
"And what matter would that be?" Wentworth asked as he came down the stairs. "Good evening."
Both father and sister merely nodded their greeting and walked on through to the living room.
"What matter?" he asked his wife in stage whisper.
"Anne," said her father. "What did you do with all the mirrors?"
"We had them removed."
"Why on earth would you do that? One cannot even adjust their tie or fix their hair."
"That is what the powder room's for," Wentworth infused.
Hmpfh!" snorted her father.
"Did..." Anne cleared her throat. "Would you like to see your... our children before we sit down to table?"
"Heavens no!" spat her sister. "I didn't come here in one of my best dresses to be smeared and splattered with... with whatever children play with."
"Crayons?" asked Wentworth.
Anne looked at him beseechingly.
"And I hope to G-d they're not joining us at dinner."
"Well... yes, but we..."
"They always join us for dinner," Wentworth interrupted his wife. "Every single night. How else are they to learn good table manners?"
"That's what nurseries and nannies are for."
He was used to being ignored by them, so when his question was addressed, Wentworth paused before answering. "We don't have a nanny."
"You don't have a nanny?!" the father gasped. "Then who raises the children?"
"Anne does."
Father and sister looked at each other with a knowing smirk. "Of course she does." They assumed one could not be afforded.
"Anne, are you happy?"
She startled. "Why... yes, father. Yes."
"Because if you weren't, we could always get the marriage annulled."
Anne winced as though she had been slapped. Wentworth stood up and walked out of the room.
"He may keep the children," added the sister.
"I hope you're not using our first set of China, Anne?" her father inquired.
"I..."
"You took that with you when you left," offered Wentworth - he had gone outside to have a cigar and calm down, now he was just returned.
"Oh yes, I remember now, we took those with us," her father uttered as though he was the one who said it first. "How long before dinner?"
"Yes, my dear, how long before dinner?" Obviously the calming influence of a cigar had dissipated with the stale tense air inside of the house.
"I'll go and..."
"No, stay where you are." He gave his wife a withering look. "I'll go."
"Darling, a package just arrived for you."
"For me?" Wentworth was surprised to say the least and took the package with confusion and joy. He tore it open with the vigor of a little boy on Christmas morning. "Oh yes!" he cried triumphantly.
"What is it?" asked the sister with little interest.
"Yes dear, what is it?" Anne asked, genuinely interested.
"It's a Y. A. Tittle lithograph with an embossed signature!"
"Oh..." They had no clue.
"Ah! Dear Mary! I knew she would never forget my birthday."
"Your birthday?!" the father blustered - the Elliots would not willingly partake of a celebration for that cad. "Anne, when I asked you, you said you had no special plans..."
Anne gulped. "I did say that..." She forgot. "Happy birthday, Rick. I'm sorry."
"No worries, darling. At least Mary didn't forget."
"Yes..." she smiled through gritted teeth. "Mary Crawford never forgets a thing."
"She is the epitome of elegance," inserted her sister.
"So true!" her father agreed wholeheartedly.
"Now there's something we can all agree on!" Wentworth tipped his wineglass towards his sister-in-law. "Elegance. Style. Class. That's Mary Crawford all rolled into one and nobody does it better than she does." He raised his glass. "A toast! To Mary!"
"Here, here!"
Wentworth savored his drink for a few moments. "I'm just going to put this down somewhere safe, so that I can take it to the framer's in the morning."
"Just put it on the table, Rick," Anne said. "It'll be all right. Dinner is served."
"Honestly Anne!" the sister yelped as a bit of carrot flew close to her plate. "The dining room table is no place for children!"
Wentworth groaned; after that one agreeable episode it had gone rapidly downhill since and he was on the ragged end of his tether.
At the harsh tones, one of the boys started to cry, loudly, and is inevitable with twins; the other started to cry as well.
"Get those brats out of here!" she spat. "I forbid you to bring them anywhere near me again!"
"You forbid?!" Wentworth roared. "May I remind you that you don't own or live in this house anymore!"
"Rick..." Anne was trying to calm her children and her husband. "Rick..."
"And as far as I'm concerned, I forbid you to ever enter my house again!" He stomped off.
"Come along, dearest," the father said. "Perhaps we can find peace and quiet in the living room."
Father and sister haughtily left the dining room.
After settling her children, Anne returned to living room in the middle of row - a knockdown, drag out, street corner fight.
"I... I can't believe it!" Wentworth was so mad, he was nearly purple in the face. "You knew what this meant to me and you destroyed it on purpose!"
"What is going on here?!"
"We have offered to apologize to Mary...!" the father yelled back.
"Yet, I've received none!" Wentworth threw the ruined lithograph on the table.
"You don't deserve one!" the sister sneered with disdain. "This entire evening, you have been rude, crude and...!"
"Rick..!" Anne pleaded.
"Get out!! Get out of my house!" Wentworth stormed the hallway, opened the closet, grabbed their stuff, opened the front door, and tossed their belongings on the stoop. "Get out of my life!"
"But, but..."
"Say goodbye, Anne!"
"But..."
"Say goodbye, Anne! For this is the last time you will ever see them again!"
Father and sister scurried away from the madman.
Anne sat in the chair with her head in her hands, crying. That was the one of the few things that Wentworth could not take; she rarely did it, but when she let the waters flow, he crumbled - a beaten man.
He knelt down beside her and stoked her hand with his thumb. "I'm sorry, honey. I truly am sorry."
"You know my sister..." she sniffled. "You know how she is... why couldn't you just let her blow off steam and leave her be?"
"Leave her be...?" Hypocrisy and weakness were the other two things he did not suffer fools for. "You may be able to let her sit here and ridicule your taste in clothes, paint, china, husbands, whatever... but I'll be d--ned if I let her upset my children."
"It was only for one night..."
Wentworth uttered a curse word, snatched his hand away from hers, and grabbed onto both sides of the chair she sat in. His wife looked at him; anger and pain were reflected in his eyes. "I remember the Anne that I dated in high school, she kowtowed to her family and put everyone else's opinions before her own - a mere girl who had no choice in the matter, but I loved her anyway because I could see her true self, deep down. I remember the Anne that I married, resilient, calm, caring - a woman that exuded strength from the inside and upon which everyone relied and I loved her. But tonight I see before me, a woman once strong, now reduced to the sniveling coward she was as a mere girl - all in one evening by those very same people who kept her down and broke her spirit so long ago..." His voice cracked. "I want my wife back. Can you tell me where she is?"
"Hide and Go Seek!" screamed one of the children. "Let's play Hide and Go Seek!"