Chapter Five

(for those of you who have never seen this story, just search “Anna Willowford” and it should pull all the other chapters up xD )

“Make sure to tell your Aunt Liliana we send our love,” Mother said sadly. She hugged me tightly, and I could tell she was barely containing her tears.

“I will, Mother,” I said, trying to ignore the fear threatening to make me scream. I was afraid to leave, because leaving meant we were resigning ourselves to this dark time. It meant we were admitting it had the upper hand. It meant surrender.

“Come along, Anna!” Beatrice said, holding open the stagecoach door. Beatrice (or Bea, as I preferred to call her) was one of our older maids, and Mother was having me take her along on the trip as my chaperon, mainly because Delmont was going with us. His aunt and uncle lived not far from mine, and he was going to stay with them.

I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. I was eighteen, practically an adult.  My parents were just as susceptible to cholera as I was; in fact, I probably had a better chance of fighting the sickness since I was younger. And I would rather rip out all my hair then travel anywhere for a day with Delmont. I shuddered, trying to pretend I wasn’t really in a carriage with him. This is all just a nasty dream, I told myself. You’ll wake up and find yourself in your own bed and-

“Are you all right, Anna?”

I looked up to find Delmont smiling sympathetically at me. Trying not to roll my eyes, I said, “Yes, I’m fine. I just don’t feel like leaving is all.”

“You don’t want to leave?” He looked quite shocked. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get sick?!”

“Think about it, Delmont. If everyone was afraid they would get sick so they all left, who would take care of those who are sick? Besides, while some of the adults have an immunity to cholera because they went through it when they were young, most adults don’t – so they have just as good a chance as us of getting sick,” I snapped.

At his injured expression I instantly felt a bit of guilt, but then I pushed it back down. He needed a taste of reality.

“Goodbye, Anna,” Mother said tearfully one last time.

“Goodbye, Mother,” I replied sullenly.

“Try to listen to your aunt and uncle, Anna,” Father said gravely. The other implied part of his sentence was, Since you certainly haven’t been doing a good job listening to your mother and I.

I didn’t reply, instead looking straight ahead . . . only, that wasn’t the smartest idea, because then I was staring straight at Delmont. Annoyed, I looked at the floor as the carriage finally pulled away, trying to erase the image of Mother’s pale, worried face from my mind.

We rode through the main part of the city then. People had painted white marks on their door frames to signal sickness in the household, and I almost wanted to hold my breath as we rode past each one. I chided myself then. Oh, please, I thought. This is coming from the same girl who was just saying she should be allowed to stay behind.

“Don’t worry, Anna, I won’t let you get sick,” Delmont said, trying to be brave for me even though he was clearly frightened.

“As if you can control that,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, how kind of you.” I smiled quickly before looking away, gritting my teeth and burying my hands in the folds of my dress so I could clench them into fists.

~

We’d been out of the city itself for about an hour or so now, and Delmont had begun his senseless chatter now that we were breathing cleaner air and not being stared at by indignant sick people who felt we were fleeing cowardly.

“It was a terribly boring party,” Delmont rambled. “The music was played poorly, the wine was bitter . . . Kingsfield Manor won’t be having a ball again anytime soon.”

I sighed. “Delmont, do you ever do anything worthwhile?!”

He said nothing, clearly flabbergasted.

“All over England widows and their children are forced out of their homes for failure to pay taxes. The poor are discriminated, and the simple, moral way of life is lost in the ‘need’ for entertainment – and you complain about a party?”

“Miss Willowford,” Bea chided quietly but firmly.

“No, Bea, I want to know why,” I insisted. I looked back at him. “Well?”

“I . . . I never thought of it that way,” he said, stunned.

“Then I’ll thank you to be silent unless you have something worthwhile to speak of,” I said coolly before looking out the window once more.

Bea was dumbfounded beside me. “Mr. Chevalier, please pardon my mistress, she . . . she’s just . . . ”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” he said, his mask of charm up once more. “I’m sure Miss Willowford is just tired from our journey.”

No, you stuck-up prig; the thing that’s making me tired is your never-ending babble, I thought angrily, my hands in fists once more.

We rode mostly in silence for the rest of the journey then, Delmont reading a book or napping to pass the time. I just stared sullenly out the window, my spirits dropping even further when the skies turned gray and it began to rain. The carriage wheels nearly got stuck in the mud a few times, and I wondered if we would ever get to our destination.

The little light in the sky quickly disappeared and the rain increased, and the driver suggested we stop at an inn for the night. None of us could disagree with him; it was miserable in here and must be ten times worse for the driver. We stopped at the first inn we found and quickly went in, our driver taking the horses and carriage to the stable.

“Good evenin’, sir, I’m afraid we’ve hardly any rooms left – ” the innkeeper began. Then he took a closer look at Delmont and I and saw our fine clothes. “Sir, Miss,”  he addressed Delmont and I. “I will get you our finest rooms at once!” He hurried off, stopping to hurriedly whisper something to his wife.

“Please, follow me!” he said then, hurrying upstairs. We wearily trudged along behind him, and I wondered if I could actually make it up all those stairs without falling asleep.

After I had taken a warm bath and gotten all the grime off of myself, I sank onto the bed in my room. My stomach was growling but I was too weary to go all the way back downstairs for supper.

Knock knock. Sighing, I got up and opened my door. Sounds of laughter and talking drifted up to me from downstairs as I did so.

The innkeeper’s wife stood there bearing a tray. On it was a bowl of steaming stew and two pieces of bread that smelled glorious, and a little bowl of butter. There was a tumbler of milk and a cup of tea. I felt ready to faint at the sight of it all.

“I thought you’d be wantin’ to have your supper upstairs, mum,” she said, handing me the tray.

“Thank you,” I said wearily. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, mum.” She gave a little bob before she closed the door, and then she hurried downstairs.

I carried the tray over to the little table in the room and set it down, sinking down into the chair. I said a silent prayer before I ate. Dear God, thank You for this food. Please watch over us tonight and as we continue our journey tomorrow. Please help me not to kill Delmont before I get to my aunt and uncle’s. In Your Name I pray, Amen.

I ate my food like a ravenous wolf, enjoying the immense freedom from being at home at the dinner table and having my parents watch me like hawks to make sure my table etiquette was perfect. How wonderful it was to put my elbows on the table and just dig in. And that was not to mention that the food was delicious, better than even our cook Irene made – and her food was amazing.

When I was done I collapsed onto my bed once more, my stomach full and my heart, for the moment, content. I was warm, I was well-fed, and I had a roof over me. I would think on tomorrow’s problems tomorrow.

And with that thought, I closed my eyes and went right to sleep.