Defeated
They had gone to the chaumiére to be able to talk freely and in private without needing to worry about someone like Mrs. Priestley sneaking in the backway to listen to everything they said. Normally any excursion to the place was filled with warmth, with ringing laughter coming from both females but this time the feeling was that of sorrow and of a hopelessness. The February weather seemed to mirror their insides, the outside was gloomy and dark clouds stretched across the heavens, not a single ray of sunlight breaking through. It was bleak and cold and though dressed for the weather, the biting cold did its best at chilling them and it wasn’t made better by the cold summer hut.
Anne busied herself immediately as they entered, by getting a fire burning in the fireplace – needing to do something with her hands to make the pain bearable. The silence that filled the room just before the flame sparked was plaguing to Anne’s heart, no doubt to Ann as well.
The fire filled the dark room with light, and warmth began to slowly seep in. Anne made a gesture for Ann to sit down on the sofa in front of the fire. As the blonde sat down quietly, Anne was reminded of their first visit to the chaumiére, when it had just been finished. Tears burned behind her eyelids as she closed her eyes in painful remembrance that they had shared their first kiss just there, right where Ann now sat numbly, quietly. Why was this happening to her again? – When she finally had met her soulmate. Someone who liked her just as she was. Who had asked for no change in Anne; But of course, Anne didn’t deserve her, only she really thought she did; For they could be so happy together, Anne could be so good for her, they could be good for each other. And worst of all, the mere thought sent a dagger through her heart, she loved her. Anne Lister who had travelled around the world, who had experienced more than many got to in a lifetime, who had met people of all sorts, high and low, she was utterly and completely, head over heels in love with Miss Ann Walker who barely dared step out of her own front-door alone. Anne lectured her own heart at that thought; you care not for her. Surely not. She is too poorly for you. Whatever would you do with her abroad? Her heart spoke in protest; you would stay. You would stay in Halifax if that meant she would be your wife. If you could love her – that would be enough – that would be your last and greatest adventure, it would make mountain climbing poor in comparison.
“Anne?” It was carefully said, as if she was afraid of her own voice,
Anne opened her eyes, realising she had wandered off in thoughts,
“Hm?”
Ann seemed to twist in her seat, unsure of what to say, what could be said after all that had passed? What could she possibly say to Anne, when she had treated her so abominably?
“What Ann?” Anne urged her, her tone perhaps a little too harsh, she regretted it as soon as it had left her mouth – she didn’t want to sound cold, but it was as if her disappointment leaked through her whole being. Ann had melted her cold heart. Or rather the wall that she had built around it to prevent this from happening. A final blow – a heartbreak without mending.
“I- I don’t know.” Ann murmured quickly, playing with the fabric on her skirt, not meeting Anne’s eyes. Anne merely hummed annoyed, standing up before sitting down on the sofa. She was only sat a little way away from Ann, but it felt as though it could easily have been miles. Anne didn’t know what to do, what to say. She respected Ann’s personal space. Didn’t know what to say to her because how could they go back to common friendship now? She couldn’t ask her meaningless questions, and in any case that wasn’t why they were there in the first place. Ann wanted to see her. She would need to take charge this time. Anne was too tired, too defeated – her heart was as bruised as her face was. Being beaten up by that thug Mr. Robertson, who no doubt had been paid to do so by Christopher Rawson. ‘Stay away from Miss Walker’ he had said before he had spat her in the face – after of course, beating her up properly, pushing her up against a wall… trying to… hm… Anne didn’t know what to say. She was, for once, speechless. So, they sat in silence, the only sound inside the chaumiére was that of the fire, that and Anne’s endless flickering with her pocket-watch – a nervous tick if anyone took notice. Second by second slipped away from her. She was getting too old for this. Soon her hair would turn grey and she would be alone and miserable until they buried her cold in the grave. Maybe Ann would regret everything then – when it was already much too late. Standing atop her grave setting down pretty flowers – that did her no good.
“Anne…” Ann finally spoke again, and Anne flicked her pocket-watch shut and put it inside her waistcoat, quirking an eyebrow, waiting for the blonde to continue.
“I’m sorry, I’m, I’m so sorry for what I said.” Ann whispered, glancing at the brunette from under wet eyelashes. It tugged at Anne’s heart seeing her upset, but what about herself? She was the one hurt in the end.
“You say you are, but how does that make it alright?”
“I know it doesn’t… but I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean it.” Ann stuttered,
“You said that what I was… was queer, repugnant and against God.” Anne repeated, her voice only faltering a little and Ann let out a quiet sob at hearing her words repeated.
“Oh, Anne, I… I didn’t mean it…”
Anne stood up, pulling off her glove and kneeling by the fire, she looked Ann in the eye before putting it in the fire. The blonde watched intently, and then Anne pulled it out, blew out the fire that still ate on the glove and then she stood up waving the ruined glove in her hand,
“Apologise to it.” Anne asked her, and Ann glanced up at her a bit confused but at another urging did as she was told.
“I’m sorry.”
“Is it mended?”
“No,”
“There. Just because you say you’re sorry doesn’t mean it is better because of it.” Anne muttered before throwing her ruined glove away. Ann whimpered as she tried to suppress another sob,
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Anne. I was just… so scared. It’s no excuse, I promise – what I said was unforgivable and I understand if you never want to see me again. But I…” Ann trailed off, tears running down her cheeks and Anne had to avert her eyes for a second to not cave in.
“But what? What Ann!?” Anne yelled, and the young woman flinched in her seat, and there was another twinge in Anne’s heart- finally she understood all those fools – fools in love who would hang themselves to end their suffering – their misery.
“I love you.” Ann whispered with a shaky breath, and Anne felt a full blow to her heart. Of course, Ann had said those words before to her – but it meant nothing when one was giving the other a ‘kiss’ – then it might as well just be the heightened feelings, the throes of passion. But this, this meant something and therefor broke Anne more. Why did she have to love her back? If she hadn’t Anne might convince herself that the woman didn’t even love her and so on. It might have been easier to move on but how could she walk away when she knew this? Knew that she really did love her back.
“How dare you say that to me!?” Anne growled, as tears pricked her dark orbs,
“I… but I do.”
“How can you do this thing to me? Hm?” Anne couldn’t hinder the tears any longer, Ann looked startled, as if she didn’t know quite what she had done wrong.
“How can you tell me that you love me when we both know it will come to nothing? You have already decided it shan’t work so why tell me that and plague me more!?”
Ann didn’t say anything, hadn’t time to say anything,
“I… could make you so happy and yet you’d rather marry some fucking scoundrel instead of me? Why would you do this to me!? Do you understand that I have feelings too? Hm? You promised me. You promised me!” Anne’s voice though booming at first shrunk to a mere whisper, a sob. Anne sank down to the floor, head in hands, she was defeated. At last someone had managed to crush her, and who would have thought, in the end that it would be Ann Walker. Mariana might have teared her down, might have given her a self-consciousness about her body, a belief that in the end no one could really love her. But hope was a trusty friend, a trusty friend whom Ann Walker had killed by rejecting her after she had nurtured her with her kindness, good nature and love. Anne didn’t think even Paris could distract her from this heartbreak, no, not Paris, not London, not Copenhagen or Moscow – not even Rome. This time she had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She would have to face this head on.
Her sobs shook her body violently, and she couldn’t help but feel so pathetic. She never cried in-front of people. Never. Not to say that she didn’t. Because she did have feelings. All though they always seemed to surprise people. She guessed it had to do with the fact that they’d rather she be less human in their eyes, so it was easier to hate her, to spread rumours and say nasty things to and about her. But in the end, she was alone. So alone in the world and she wanted nothing more than to be seventeen again. To have her aunt hold her, tell her it was all going to be fine. Her aunt and uncle, who had loved her despite everything. Who despite whatever anyone would say, would comfort her and tell her that she was a beautiful young woman with so many prospects; Where had time gone? What had happened to all those lovely promises? It had all lead to her breaking down, sobbing on the cold floor, in front of Ann Walker who had once and for all truly broken her heart.
Warm arms draped across her shoulders, surprising her, the heat almost burning her. Anne felt herself being pulled back to rest against soft skin, and she heard a strong, steady heartbeat under her ear.
“Anne,” Ann murmured her voice full of sympathy, and Anne couldn’t help a cry escape her, because every time she called her name – it was, so soft, so tender as if she truly did love her.
“I’m sorry. I- I just… feel so conflicted. I don’t know what to make of it all. I don’t want to marry him. Trust me. If I weren’t so scared to lose you, that you would be fed up with me, that somehow, I’ll, we’ll be exposed and they would do something to you, to us… I wouldn’t hesitate a second. Because I adore you, I love you so much, Annie.”
Anne crampingly gripped onto Ann, weeping, her heart giving her so much pain, and Ann kissed her over the hair sweetly, though perhaps a little hesitant.
“Don’t leave me… please! I- I could never be fed up with you, Ann. And, isn’t it worse – living a life without each other than risking sorrow? Because – it’s worth it, right? To love and to live and be happy for as long as we may. They wouldn’t expose us. They wouldn’t know. Assumptions might be made but… beyond that – nothing. Don’t leave me.” Anne plead, not raising her eyes, or head, but keeping her ear firmly pressed against her chest, letting Ann’s heartbeat soothe her.
“I…” Ann began but quieted, and Anne sat up, drying her tears with the back of her hand, furious with Mrs. Priestley for using Miss Parkhill who in her turn poisoned Ann’s mind against her, furious with Ann for not fighting them.
“Do you love him?”
“No, of course not!”
“Does he love you more than me then?” Anne asked crossing her arms on the floor and she could see tears well up in those blue eyes that she loved so much,
“No, Anne…”
“Well, do you love me?” Anne asked and Ann bit her lip, distressed,
“You know I do!”
“Then, why can’t you just… Why would you choose to be unhappy then?” Anne bit, and Ann shook her head,
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it? You could easily say yes to me – and I would do everything I could to make you happy, we could be happy. I would take care of you, love you. Or you say yes to him and live a life in misery – or you say no to me and to him and then rot away alone.” Anne barked, knowing she was too harsh on Ann, but she was upset, and angry and had no time to consider that. Anne had been through a lot of trouble to ensure Mr. Ainsworth could come nowhere near Ann ever again after what he had done to her – and here she was rather taking him than her.
“Anne…” Ann began but Anne stood up hastily,
“I am wasting my time and will leave you now. Don’t call for me again. Do me that curtesy. Because I couldn’t bear it. I would come immediately – tormenting myself with the power you have over me. So, don’t. Don’t keep in touch. Goodbye Miss Walker.” Anne gave her one last look, a tired, hurt and defeated sort of look before securing her hat on her head again motioning for the door. She could hear Ann’s suppressed sobs and they cut through her like daggers, but she pushed the feelings away, opening the door that would then close its way to their relationship forever. Anne spun around and closed the door before even taking in the surroundings. When she did, she was struck by snowflakes whirling so fast that they stung her already bruised face. She became instantly worried for Ann; how would she make it back to Crow Nest when you couldn’t even see your hand in-front of you in the settling darkness and blizzard. Anne took a step forwards and sunk down almost to her knee. How had the snow fallen so quickly, so deep? How had they not noticed a blizzard picking up? Anne was at loathe to go back inside. But walking a few feet in the deep snow she realised she could hardly make out the chaumiére and it was right behind her she knew. Her traces almost immediately being blown away. Anne shook her head, she wasn’t an idiot, nor was she that proud. She might be hurt, but she had no will to die, not like that anyway, and more so wanted not Ann to get hurt. Anne ploughed her way back to the chaumiére, opening the door before stepping inside again, closing the door that the wind seemed to get hold of for a second. Ann looked up surprised, her eyes red and puffy. Anne looked away,
“You came back!” Ann said in disbelief, standing up, embracing the brunette who tensed. It hurt too much, having her close, knowing she would never be hers. Ann seemed to realise her own mistake and let go, and Anne would never admit how much she missed her near. She merely scowled,
“Yes. Well, there’s a blizzard outside. Snow almost up to my knee and the sight so bad you cannot see your hand in-front of you. I’d be foolish to try and navigate my way back.”
Anne said it in a way as if to make it clear to Miss Walker that she hadn’t returned for her sake, all though, she had. In reality Anne might have tried if the blonde wasn’t out in the storm.
“Oh?” Ann went over to the window and opened the blinds and was astonished to see the winter landscape outside and her expression turned to that in thought. Anne wondered if she thought what she had; how had they not heard the roaring blizzard outside? It was wheezing and rattling the windows. The fire seemed to burn lower, as air escaped through the chimney. Anne kneeled before it to throw in more logs, try to keep the room moderately warm for as long as possible. They might need to stay the night there, Anne feared it. Anne sat herself by the small table, indicating that she was in no mood to talk, and eventually Ann seated herself on the couch. Anne could feel and did notice that Ann would glance at her every so often. But she said not a word. Which was lucky, because Anne was certain that if she did, she would crumble down – beg her forgiveness, kiss her and let her break her all over again. Anne picked up a book that she had left in the chaumiére at one point, but it couldn’t hold her attention, she was hyper-aware of every breath Ann took, of every movement she made. She watched her over the edge of the book – pretending to be engrossed in it. Eventually, after perhaps three hours had passed in this manner and as the darkness had fully set in and as the blizzard gave no indication that it was stopping anytime soon, Ann took courage and turned in her seat,
“What happened to you?”
Anne startled a little despite having had her attention solely on the young woman since sitting down, it took her so off guard that she hadn’t even time to pretend to be snarky,
“What? What do you mean?”
“Your face… you’re bruised.” Ann mumbled pointing at her own eyes, and Anne closed her book with a soft thud,
“Nothing.”
“I may not be as well-versed as you in anatomy, but I do know that you don’t bruise without cause.” Ann persisted with a sternness not familiar from her.
“I was beaten up.” Anne muttered after a few seconds, before opening her book again, to ignore Ann but the blonde wouldn’t let her,
“Where?”
“Just down Lightcliffe road.” Anne told her dismissingly, but Ann wouldn’t let her be,
“Who would do that to you?” Ann asked her voice trembling with sympathy for the brunette,
“Ask your cousin, he seemed to think it was necessary.”
“My cousin? Christopher didn’t do that to you!? Was it because of the coal?”
“Christopher ordered a man to do it. An ambush, rather cowardly, I think. But no, it wasn’t for the coal – the man told me to stay away from you.” Anne said curtly, trying to return to her fake reading of the book. She was really in no mood for this.
“Because of me? Oh, Anne… I,”
“Mm, in the end I think it had to do with the coal. They must have realised that my ‘investor’ was you and wanted to make sure that it would go.” Anne waved her hand and looked down on the page of whatever book it was that she held – she wasn’t sure.
“I would, I said, I would, and I still would loan you the money, Anne.” Ann said then and Anne looked up,
“Mm, and I made it abundantly clear didn’t I, that I’d rather starve than be treated as some charity case – like some, like a whore by someone else’s wife.”
“I- I never said you were a whore.” Ann insisted, and Anne laughed a dry, cold laugh,
“No. But you did say… you suggested that you marry him for propriety’s sake and then have me on the side. Making me a fornicator, part in adultery, and if then given money by you – a whore. All though I guess even common whores would have more dignity than I in that situation.”
Ann let out a frustrated, hurt cry but Anne didn’t acknowledge it, she wasn’t the one keeping them apart – she was. She had no right to cry, Anne thought bitterly as she blinked away the tears that burned behind her own eyes, trying to read whatever the words printed on the pages were.
When she couldn’t bother with it any longer, she picked up her pocket-watch, flicking it open with unnecessary force, she was closer to half eleven, and, Anne thought as she gazed out the window, the blizzard was nowhere near taking off. They would be stuck there for the night – and they fire was slowly dying. Anne stood up and stretched her back, before approaching the fireplace. She could see and feel that Ann’s eyes were on her, watching her every movement as the last logs were thrown into the fire. Ann stood up and made her way to sit at the table. Anne suspected it was to give her the sofa for a few minutes, having spent so many hours sitting on an uncomfortable chair. She was beginning to be very tired. She had been up at five that morning after hardly having slept- her ribs still bruised from the beating. Maybe she would lie down – in front of the fire and rest her eyes for a while. Anne went and opened the chest behind the sofa, where one blanket was stored. She then proceeded to lay her greater coat down on the floor in front of the fire, taking one of the two pillows on the couch and putting it on the floor. Anne undressed slightly – to be more comfortable. She removed her cravat that felt tight on her throat, pulled her shoes off, her waistcoat, skirt and then, without taking her shirt off from over her undershirt and corset she managed to loosen it by a fair bit, making breathing easier. Anne pulled the pins from her hair, letting her brown lengths cascade down her shoulders. She did all this without looking to Ann at all. Then she lay down in-front of the fire, pulling the blanket over her body, trying to keep warm despite the cold floor, and the cold wind leaking in from outside. Exhaustion hit her and she fell asleep after a while but woke within the hour again – colder. The fire was mere ember and the room was starting to get rather chilly. Anne turned to see if Ann was asleep on the sofa but there was no one there. She sat up hurriedly looking about herself before seeing her crawled up on the chair by the table still – shivering, rattling her teeth. Anne was struck by a feeling of sympathy – ashamed that she had let her own feelings take control like that. Her head might protest her heart, but Anne stood up letting the blanket fall to the floor before closing the gap between them. Anne touched her cheek with a soft, warm hand and Ann turned her face up to her – it was clear that she had been crying. Anne brought her up to her embrace, holding her to her tightly,
“Forgive me, Ann. Please.”
“It’s me who should beg you of forgiveness.” Ann wept into her neck, and Anne held her to her, kissing her over the hair.
“No matter. Come, you must be freezing.”
Anne lead her to the fireplace and helped her first remove a few layers of clothing to make lying down easier, before Ann lay down by the ember. Anne situated herself behind her, draping a warm, comforting and protective hand over her waist, after pulling the blanket snuggly around them.
“Do you think we’ll be able to make it out of here by the morrow?” Ann asked her softly, and Anne sighed in her ear,
“I don’t know.”
There was a silence again, and Anne relished only in the feeling of having Ann pressed to her, having her so near – that she for the moment might not have cared about the fact that she would never choose her in the end.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave. I don’t know what I would have done without you here.” Ann murmured,
“You have got to stop having such a poor opinion of yourself, Ann.” Anne whispered in her ear, tiredly, placing a soft, chaste kiss below it. Ann shivered at this,
“I don’t, I told you, I don’t when I’m with you.”
“Then never leave me.” Anne mumbled, though perhaps more in a sleepy dreamy state of mind. But Ann turned around in her embrace, so they lay facing each other, and she stroke hair out of Anne’s face softly, with tender fingers, and then she kissed her on the mouth with uncertainty first before it grew more passionate. Anne responded hungrily, devouring in the sweet kiss Ann granted her. The blonde then ran her tongue against her bottom lip, before tugging at it softly and Anne moaned so loud that a blush immediately appeared on her cheeks and Ann laughed kindly at her before kissing her again.
“You undo me.” Anne sighed, not meaning for Ann to hear but she did, and her heart swelled with pride, she couldn’t fathom that she had such a hold on Anne Lister. A woman she had looked up to and loved since her teens. A woman she had been certain would never look more than once her way, who would surely find her uninteresting and dull – but now here they were. Closely wrapped around each other, in a blizzard – kissing and grabbing at each other as if there was no tomorrow, and she felt safe – away from Crow Nest, away from all opinions and all ‘well-meaning’ prying relatives. Her anxiety was long gone when she was in Anne’s embrace. Ann couldn’t wish for other than that morning might never come.
“I love you Anne. I am in love with you.” Ann murmured against her lips and she then proceeded to kiss away the tears that had fallen from Anne’s eyes.
“Do-Don’t- please- don’t leave me.” Anne begged her, knowing she would be gone in the morning, but Ann took hold of her face. Forcing her to look at her.
“I won’t.”
“Ann, what are you…” Anne began closing her eyes, feeling all the pain in her heart.
“I won’t leave you.”
“You say that now but what about morning when everyone else is there again.” Anne muttered and Ann kissed her sweetly,
“I will tell them to fuck off.”
Anne was so shocked by the words Ann had just said so she could do neigh but laugh.
“What?”
“I will tell them that it’s my life. That I won’t get married and that I will be your companion and if they have an opinion on that they can fuck off.” Ann told her seriously, and Anne shook her head,
“Don’t tease me with that. Not when you know how much I’ll hurt when you leave me.”
“I’m not. I am determined to have you. I will take the sacrament with you. I want to be your wife. I want you to be my wife.”
“You want to marry me? And live with me at Shibden?” Anne asked as if she couldn’t believe her ears, and Ann smiled and nodded,
“Yes. But I might need your help to face them.”
“Of course.” Anne was overjoyed, she didn’t know what to do with all the emotions that went through her being,
“I will take you back to Shibden tomorrow. They cannot touch you there. Then I will take you to York to see Dr Belcombe and when you are ready – I will, we will marry.” Anne told her, kissing her forehead. Ann grinned and they kissed again.
“I would like that. And thank you, Anne – for not giving up on me.” Ann murmured; their foreheads pressed to one another affectionately – ready to take on the world together.