Chapter 9

Anna huddled under the scant awning provided by the stage post. Her father had insisted he wait outside, since he did not know when the coach would arrive to take her away. Anna did her best to be strong, but her resolve was wearing thin.

Since his return, her father and sisters had disappeared, only returning the evening before she was to leave, dressed like a royalty. Her sister’s clothes were the finest she’d ever seen, silks and velvet from head to toe.

They stayed only long enough to give her instructions for leaving the house, and to explain her morning’s departure.

“You will be up and ready by sunrise,” he had told her. “I do not know when Lord Beauchamp will send his carriage for you, but I want you to be at the stage post waiting.”

“Yes Papa,” she replied sadly.

“And do not try to return to this place,” he continued, looking around. “I have already found a family to take over, so there is no place to return to.”

“Have you moved, papa?” Anna asked, flinching away as Albert raised his hand to strike.

“You stupid girl,” he yelled, “of course I have moved! I have taken better lodgings. With my new wealth, why would I stay in this filthy hovel?”

“How will I write to you papa, if you are not here?” Anna asked, concerned.

“Who wants you to write?,” Albert asked, glaring at his daughters. “Not I. As of tomorrow I wash my hands of you. I do not wish to hear from you, or even about you after I leave here tonight.”

With that he turned on his polished heels and was gone, leaving her with no doubt that he meant every word.

Silence reigned that night as she packed her meager belongings and ate the last of the coarse brown bread and cheese dinner. Without Teresa and Erica to share the bed, she shivered in the fireless room, her breath making clouds of steam in the chilled night air. While she’d never had much in common with either of them, she missed hearing their conversations in the night. Instead she lay in the foreboding darkness, waiting, waiting, just waiting.

At dawn, she had taken her small bundle in hand and without looking back walked the short distance to the post stop. And here she was, wet, shivering, tired, and waiting. At half past ten a large black carriage rolled up from the east, pulling to a stop in front of them.

The coachman, an enormous man wrapped in a high-collared black coat looked down at the bedraggled girl.

“Are you for Lord Beauchamp’s service?” he asked, his deep voice muffled by his collar.

Anna nodded, her teeth chattering too much for her to speak.

“Get in then,” he said. “We have a long way to go and I want to get out of this rain.”

Anna waited, wanting desperately to ask the coachman questions, but too scared to try. The seats were soft and plush as she took her seat sinking deeply into the down filled velvet.