The Vigilante

“Anne?” Aunt Anne is seated in her usual spot in the sitting room in front the fire, Argus at her feet, snoring away as if his life depends on it. “ANNE!” Argus snortles and barely lifts his head to see what’s causing all that ruckus.

Anne strides into the room, clearly frustrated.

“What’s wrong, Aunt? Where’s the fire?”

“Well, I didn’t think you could here me with all that noise going on! When are those men going to be through? The din is awful!”

Anne sighs internally and rolls her eyes, out of aunt’s field of vision, of course. She’s explained to her aunt and father and Marian numerous times that the work being done to repair the front wall is almost complete. Just a few more days of hammering and all will be quiet again.

Anne bites her tongue and says calmly, “As I’ve explained…just a few more days, Aunt. You’ll have to be patient. Can I get you anything now that I’m up?”

Aunt Anne looks at her with a hint of reprimand. “Oh, the abuse I have to put up with.”

Anne chuckles and sits down next to her aunt, her calloused fingers reaching over to take hold of the elder woman’s delicate hand. Aunt Anne looks up at Anne with tenderness. She knows Anne hasn’t been herself since Miss Walker left. 

“Have you heard from her? Miss Walker?”

Anne sighs, her eyes tracing the floorboards in the room rather than look at her aunt for fear of an errant tear dribbling its way out of her eye. “No, Aunt. I haven’t. It’s probably a…a good thing.”

“How can it possibly be a good thing?” Anne glances at her, as she rubs their clasped hands up and down her thigh. It’s a nervous habit, one her aunt has seen her do many times under stressful circumstances.

“Well…if she doesn’t believe in me…if she believes I had anything to do with what the constable accused me of…I doubt there’s much of a future there, do you? No…no word. It’s…it’s all off.”

“Anne…look at me.”

Anne hesitates, then turns to face her aunt head-on.

“I’ve known you since the day you were born. I held you in my arms before your own mother put her hands on you. And in all those years I’ve watched you go through so much heartache. The pain you suffered at the hands of Mrs. Lawton…Vere Hobart…countless others. People who, in the end, put themselves first. People who used you, Anne. But there’s one thing I know for certain…Miss Walker cares deeply for you. The way she looks at you…like you hung the moon and the stars. I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who admires you more. And the way you took care of her? She was over the moon about it!”

“But Aunt-“

“Anne…I think if you look deep within yourself…if you would allow yourself to admit it…you’d find that you’re probably a little bit in love with her.”

The realization hits hard. Anne opens her mouth to speak, but no words come forth. Her aunt has a way of getting to the crux of the problem in a succinct manner, and for telling her the raw truth.

“Dwell on it, Anne. She’s worth it. You’re worth it.” Anne lets go of her hand and looks at her lap, trying to digest her aunt’s words, and trying not to listen to the hammering of her heart reverberating with the echo of AnnAnnAnn. Her insides have been in turmoil ever since Ann left. Surely, that’s an indicator. If she didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Oh…and before you get too entangled in your day, I need you to go into town for me. I’ve ordered a book at Whitley’s and it’s just come in.”

Anne is mildly startled by the change of topic Aunt Anne suddenly introduces, as if she didn’t just smack Anne between the eyes with the realization that the love of her life lives right next door. 

“What? Oh. Um…I plan to go into town tomorrow and uh…I’ll go right past Whitley’s, I can pick it up then.”

Aunt Anne is insistent. 

“No. It needs to be today. Sometime between 1:30 and 2:00.”

“But Aunt-“

Aunt Anne looks at Anne with sorrowful eyes and really pours it on. “I don’t ask for much, Anne, not in my old age. Can you please just do this onething for me?” 

Anne hates emotional blackmail, but her aunt is right…she doesn’t ask for much, and she has such few experiences in life to take her out of herself and her constant pain. A new book could do her some good. Besides, her aunt used her best petulant voice, and she rarely does that, so Anne knows it must be important.

Anne admits defeat. “Fine. I will pick it up for you this afternoon. Might be later than 1:30 because-“

“No!  It has to be between 1:30 and 2:00! Mr. Whitley is closing up shop for a while to attend some… event….so…the store will be closed. It’s very important, Anne.”

“Okay,” she drawls, as she looks at her aunt with mild suspicion. “I will re-adjust my schedule accordingly. Not like I had anything else going on today. Any other tasks I can perform for you today, Madame?” Anne can’t resist being a smart ass.

“Are you being funny now? Is that what this is?” She lightly smacks Anne on the backside with her cane as Anne leaves the room, looking over her shoulder with a chuckle. 

“Wrap up! It’s blowy out there!”  Aunt Anne watches her leave and smiles. She doesn’t usually manipulate Anne in this manner, she doesn’t care for that kind of scheming behavior. But she’ll make an exception in this case.

///////////////////////////

Anne strides along the upper road, bound and determined to check on her men before making her way down the Old Bank into Halifax. She sees the men up ahead lying in the grass taking a break, sipping beer to quench their thirst. Mr. Pickles sees her coming up the road, not looking happy.

“Ey up, men, back to work! Breaks over!” The men jump to their feet and grab their tools, immediately getting back at it. 

“Pickles!” Anne’s coat billows behind her as she comes up the hill at breakneck speed.

“Ey, missus, nice to see ya! Just took a short break and the men are back at it! Wall is lookin’ quite nice!” Mr. Pickles tries to smooth things over.

Anne looks at the progress that’s been made and is actually quite impressed. Her frown turns to a slight grin and she nods. “Yes. Good progress. I’m on my way into Halifax. I’ll check in again on my way back.” 

“Looking forward to it.” Pickles hopes Miss Lister doesn’t hear the sarcasm almost peeking through.

Anne spots Thomas Sowden at the end of the wall and approaches him. 

“Thomas?” Thomas stops hacking the side of the hill with his ax and turns to face Ann.

He nods and removes his hat. “How do, Miss Lister.”

“Good afternoon. I just wanted to wish you well before tomorrow. Are you excited about the wedding?”

“Ah yes, ma’am, very. I want t’ thank you again fer talkin’ t’ Mr. Washington…’bout lettin’ Suzannah marry me. It was very kind of ya.”

“Ah. Well, it turns out it was more my father’s influence. You’ll have to thank him. But yes, it was very kind. We are all very excited for you both.” Anne pauses before asking the next question. “How are things at home now, Thomas, better?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. Ever since me dad…died…well, yeah…things have been…a’ right. I didn’t think it would be, but it’s loads bet'uh’…just like James and Mr. Pickles said t’ would.”

“Sorry, James?”

“Oh, James Makenzie, ma’am.”

“Miss Walker’s footman?”

“Yes ma’am”

“You know him?”

“Yes, ma’am, we’re sort of…friends. I met him at the pub. When I used t’ go and fetch me dad there. Sometimes James ‘d be there. He’d see me dad…drinkin’…drunk. We got t’ talkin’ ‘bout our dads both being drunks, and the uh…things they do…did…when they’ve been a’ it.”

Thomas hesitates. He doesn’t have to state the obvious about both fathers having been physically abusive, but Miss Lister seems curious. “Go on, Thomas, it’s all right.”

“His father used t’ beat ‘im, too. All nasty sorts. Broke his arm once. Used t’ make fun of ‘im all t’ time...just like Sam. Me dad used t’ call me ‘Elsie’, and his dad used t’ call ‘im ‘Girly Girl’. Said he had girly feet ‘cause his feet were small for his size. Beat ‘im silly…told ‘im he’d make a man out ‘im, ‘n spite of his tiny feet. James said things were so much bet’uh after his dad disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did he say what happened to him?”

“No ma’am. Said he di’n’t care what happened t’ ‘im, just as long as he were gone. Said he and his mum were so happy aft’ t’at.”

“Have you seen James since your father died?”

“He came t’ funeral…t’ pay his respects. Nice of ‘im. He could have just not come…could have thought… ‘Sam got what he deserved,’ and leave it t’at. But… he came.”

“Did he say anything to you? At the funeral?”

“Nerrr..not really. Just that he was sorry…said t’all be bet’uh soon. Said Halifax was finally gettin’ set to rights again.”

“Set to rights…what does that mean?”

“Dunno…maybe all t’ bad people out there doin’ bad things…it’s coming home t’ roost.”

///////////////////

Anne pounds through the ruddy streets of Halifax, making her way past the stalls where street vendors hawk their wares, around the obstacles of pot holes and horse manure, then up to the high street toward Whitley’s book store. 

She is unmistakable….a sight to behold. For her oddity, her perfect posture, her top hat and billowing coat, the walking cane she carries that signifies ‘artistocracy’…there’s no one else like her. Vendors and shoppers alike stop in their tracks to watch her zoom by. Anne knows they’re looking…she doesn’t care. She keeps her eyes forward, her expression set. Theycan’ttouchme.

In spite of the stares, she’s more bothered by the discussion she had with Thomas. It’s all so odd…what James Mackenzie said to Thomas. And then the fact that it was likely James that William Hardcastle saw on the road that day, before the accident. She’s not quite certain what to make of it, if anything. 

The bell on the door tinkles as she enters her favorite store. The dusty shelves of Whitley’s Book Shop contain the many tomes Anne has browsed through, time and time again. There probably isn’t a single book in the place that doesn’t have her fingerprints all over it. The tables in the middle of the front room are chock-full with the latest releases. Anne brushes her fingertips over the tops of the covers as she peruses the various titles, looking to see if anything piques her interest. She dreams of the day when her travel books will adorn Whitley’s shelves, with people clamoring after her, begging for her autograph on her wildly popular first edition.

“Miss Lister! How wonderful to see you!” Anne is, by far, Mr. Whitley’s favorite customer. Her purchases have been numerous and unusual, and he admires her for her interesting choices.

“How are you enjoying the book on Egyptian Antiquities?”

Anne makes her way toward Mr. Whitley at the back of the shop. “Oh, I quite like it. Such interesting pieces that have been found. And I marvel at the techniques used by the archaeologists to uncover those historic artifacts. I intend to go there one day and see them for myself.”

The bell tinkles as another customer enters the shop.

“I have no doubt, Miss Lister, no doubt whatsoever. So, what brings you in today?”

“I’m here to pick up the book my aunt ordered.”

Anne notices the confused look on his face. “I…I don’t think I have anything on order for her.” Mr. Whitley looks down at his accounting register just to be certain. “No ma’am, nothing for Mrs. Lister.”

“Well that’s-“

“Anne?” 

Anne whips around…and there she is. 

”Miss Walker.” 

They stare at each other for several seconds, both barely able to breathe. Ann takes a tenuous step forward.

“I was so happy…to get your note. I…I came as quickly as I could.” Ann wants to smile, but she’s not certain how to interpret the look on Anne’s face.

Anne frowns.  “Sorry? What note?”

Ann holds out a piece of paper. “Your note. Your footman…he brought it over this morning.” She nervously hands the note to Anne, who immediately recognizes the scrawl. She lightly shakes her head and releases a puff of air as she realizes what’s gone on. 

“Ah. I see my aunt has been meddling.”

“What?”

Anne hands the note back to her. “My aunt. It would appear she brought us both here under false pretenses. I believe she wants us to talk.”

Ann had been sohopeful that Anne had taken the initiative to reach out to her. Apparently, that’s not the case. She desperately wants to make things right with her. She’s done nothing but fret since leaving Shibden, a mistake she wishes she could go back and change…never leave. She wishes she’d been braver…that she had stayed by Anne’s side through all this mess. She had no idea how painful it would be to miss someone as much as she misses Anne.

“Oh,” she says quietly. “I was hoping…”

She looks so dejected, it breaks Anne’s heart. Her aunt’s words come rushing back and she’s overwhelmed with the need to wrap Ann in a protective hug and let her know it’s all going to be all right. She decides to rise above it and focus on the person, not the pain. Anne stoops to Ann’s height and looks her in the eyes.

“Well, we can’t disappoint her, can we?” She grins ever so slightly.

Ann’s face lights up. “No. We certainly can’t.”

“Would you care to go for a cup of tea, Miss Walker?”

“Yes,” she says breathlessly. “Yes, I would. Umm…the Union Cross Inn is nearby. They serve tea until 4:00. Would that…?”

“Splendid. After you.” Anne turns around to the shop owner.  “Apologies, Mr. Whitley, I believe my aunt was mistaken about the order.”

“Of course, Miss Lister. Please come again soon.”

Anne opens the door for Ann as they walk into the street, then turn toward the Inn. Anne looks down and notices Ann isn’t limping at all.

“Look at you! Your ankle seems to be much better.”

Ann can’t contain the smile. “It is! I had a very good doctor. She took very good care of me.”

Anne blushes. “Ah. Well, I’m glad your progress continued after you…well.”

“How…how is your aunt? Your father? Miss Marian?”

Anne keeps her eye on the street making certain to navigate them around any mishaps. 

“All good, thank you for asking. My father is as deaf as ever, and my aunt….her legs. Well, as you know.  And Marian…(sighs) she continues to do an excellent job annoying me.” Ann chuckles and smiles over at her. Anne turns a little sentimental. “I think she misses you…quite a bit, actually. I think she enjoyed having someone there who is more…like her.

“Like her?”

Anne gestures with her hand. “More…womanly.”

“Ah. I’d say you’re…quite womanly.”

Anne looks are her with a hint of sarcasm in her smile and decides to move the conversation forward.

“And your family? Your aunt?”

“Ah, well. All still nosy and interfering…as usual. My aunt is trying to send me off on a holiday with Catherine, but I’m not having it. Funny…it looks like both our aunts like to meddle. At least when yours does it, it’s for good reasons.”

They smile at one another.

“Ah, here we are.” Anne opens the door for Ann and they enter the Inn. As luck would have it, the place is fairly empty due to the chilly weather. There’s a table near the fireplace, so they take a seat and order tea. 

They’re fairly quiet until the tea is served, only idle chit chat to break the ice after having spent so much time apart. Ann knows she has to lead the difficult discussion. She sets her cup down and places her hand over Anne’s forearm, then takes a deep breath in. Anne’s wool coat feels delicious against her skin. 

“Anne…I’m sorry. I deeply regret what happened…that day. I’m sorry my actions made you feel like I don’t trust you or have confidence in you, because I do. I trust you more than anyone in the world. And I know you’re not involved in any of those things the sheriff accused you of. It’s ridiculous that he even questioned you like that! I just…I didn’t want to be a burden to you. You were taking such good care of me and focusing all your energy on me, and I knew you had things to take care of…both on your land and then with this stupid…constable. I should have stayed as you asked. I should have been braver and stood up to the constable…should have set him straight on what’s what. I’m just so sorry, Anne, I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry.  I’m just…disappointinglyhuman.” She squeezes Anne’s arm and looks directly into Anne’s eyes, begging for forgiveness.

Anne sighs and smiles, then places her hand over Ann’s. “You weren’t a burden, Ann, you never would be. It brought me great joy to take care of you. And I could have easily taken care of you and the things on my land, it was not problem.” Anne reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind Ann’s ear. She’ssoverypretty.. “And there’s nothing disappointing about you. Otherwise, I would have found it very difficult to…”

Ann waits, then, “…to…?”

Anne swallows, hesitates. Is she ready for this? To say this? It’s always brought her bad luck in the past. Admitting her emotions to prior loves has never played out well for her, but this is Ann.  

“…to fall in love with you.” She exhales the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Ann breathes a sigh of relief and smiles, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, Anne,” she whispers. “I love you, too. I’ve been in such misery being away from you, I can’t stand it any longer. So when I got the note this morning, I was just so happy!”

Anne reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out her handkerchief, handing it to Ann.

“There, there. No need to cry, Love.”

“Please forgive me.” Ann grasps Anne’s hand, determined to hang on and never let go. 

Anne leans in and smiles. “I forgive you, Ann. It’s all forgotten, it’s in the past. I’ve been on the road to Damascus and come out the other side.”

Ann leans her forehead against Anne’s shoulder, closes her eyes and whispers, “Thank you.’

“I missed you,” says Anne, covering Ann’s hand that’s still anchored to her forearm. “After a chat with my aunt, I looked at things with a fresh perspective, and…well…I really don’t like the idea of getting on without you.”

“Oh, Anne…me neither.” Ann looks at her with such passion and longing. She’d love nothing more than to lean  across the table and snog her senseless. She casts a hopeful look her way.

“I’m daring to hope that based on the look on your face this isn’t going down too badly. Would you like come to mine for dinner tonight…and then…stay all night?”