Anne listened to all this with astonishment giving way slowly before rage. She saw how it was: it had struck Lady Murray forcibly how disagreeable it would be to travel with Caroline in a state of constant upheaval, and with no one to attend her. Anne’s eyes flickered towards Simpkins, who avoided the contact and bent unnecessarily low over the box she was packing: Anne could imagine her being appealed to by her mistress and refusing, as flatly as only a dresser of her experience and annual salary could do, to have anything to do with the nursing of the unfortunate girl.
Well then, Anne could imagine Lady Murray thinking, there’s nothing for it but to reinstate Miss Peters, just until we get to London, and then turn her off there. They simply wanted to make use of her, she thought; well, they should find she had other ideas.
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I shall do no such thing! My arrangements have all been made, and they do not involve travelling with any part of your family. You must get along without me as best you can,’ she said.
Lady Murray’s eyes seemed to bulge perilously, and Simpkins sucked in a breath at hearing her mistress spoken to in such a manner. ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ her ladyship demanded, actually more astonished than affronted. ‘I have never heard of such impertinence! You will do exactly as you are told, Miss Peters, without answering me back! Go and help Salton at once and let us hear no more of this – this – effrontery!’
‘I have told you, ma’am, that I have made my arrangements,’ Anne replied with a calm she judged rightly would infuriate far more than angry words. ‘I shall not be leaving Paris. And I do not take orders from you. I am no longer in your employ. I am a free agent.’
Lady Murray uttered a sound between a gasp and a shriek. ‘What? Free agent? How dare you! Nonsense!’ she spluttered.
‘I know what you are about, ma’am,’ Anne said, enjoying her triumph, though there was a layer of sick fear underneath at her own daring. ‘You only want me to take care of Caroline because no one else will. That is what has caused this change of heart. You cannot impose on me any longer, Lady Murray.’
‘Ungrateful, unnatural girl!’ Lady Murray boomed. ‘And this is how you repay our kindness, our consideration for you! Don’t you know that there is going to be war at any moment? Sir Ralph, all magnanimity that he is, insisted that we could not leave you behind, a stranger in a foreign land, and asked me, begged me, to allow you to remain with us, for your own safety. And remain you shall! / shall decide when you leave my employ, and on what terms. Free agent, pah! I’ll give you free agent!’
‘It is pointless to continue this conversation, ma’am,’ Anne said. ‘I am over twenty-one, and will make my own decisions about my own life. You have no responsibility for me, nor authority over me. I shall go up and pack my belongings now, and go to my new lodgings. I shall send for my box tomorrow – I trust you will not object to its remaining here until the morning?’
Lady Murray had fallen back in her seat, more overcome, Anne guessed, by the mention of new lodgings than anything else that had been said. ‘I’ll have it thrown out into the street!’ she cried vengefully.
‘That must be as you choose, ma’am,’ Anne said quietly, and turned and left, hearing as she closed the door behind her the words, ‘Simpkins! My vinaigrette!’ uttered in a despairing shriek.
As she climbed the stairs to her room, Anne found herself trembling. It was not easy all at once to cast off the habits and teachings of a lifetime, and to utter words of such defiance to an elder, and one to whom she had deferred for so long. She felt emptied out, scoured, and yet exhilarated, like a bird which has made the first terrifying plunge into unsupporting air, and found it could fly. Freedom, a new life lay before her. I shall never be afraid to speak my mind again, she thought.
The following morning Anne secured the services of a man with a small handcart, and walked with him from her new lodgings just off the rue Montmartre to the rue St Augustine to collect her box. It was a fine, warm May day, and everywhere the trees were bursting into leaf, and Anne was so deep in the thoughts of how good it was to be here, in Paris, that the man’s voice quite startled her when he asked suddenly, ‘What number, miss?’
‘Number eight,’ she said. ‘Yes, this is it – oh!’ And she stopped in surprise at what had evidently aroused the man’s doubts: the knocker was off the door. The shades were drawn down over the windows, too, giving the building the unpleasantly eyeless look of the empty house.
‘They’ve gone,’ the man said helpfully. ‘Skipped, I dare say. Did they owe you money, miss?’
‘No – no, nothing like that,’ Anne said. ‘There’s just my luggage to collect. I suppose their orders must have come after I left and–’ All sorts of speculations were running through her head which were not helpful at the moment. ‘I suppose there must be a caretaker somewhere. They may have left my box with him.’
They went round to the service door, and ringing at the bell, soon roused out the elderly hall porter, who had evidently remained as caretaker. Anne was glad it was he, for he had always been friendly towards her, out of appreciation for her unvarying courtesy.
‘Oh, there you are, then, mademoiselle. Yes, I’ve got your box safe here. I’ll get it out in a moment, if this fellow will help me.’
‘The family has gone, then?’ Anne said, stepping into the back hall, and listening to the eerie silence. An occupied house, even if the inmates are not speaking or moving, is never quiet in the same way.
‘Last night, mademoiselle. A messenger came round from the Embassy at dusk, carriages were ordered, and they left at eight o’clock. They mean to travel all through the night, so it seems, for this afternoon’s packet from Calais. The old lady was very put out. You never heard such a fuss.’
Already, Anne noted, it was ‘the old lady’, a term of scant respect. ‘I was afraid my box would have been thrown out,’ she said.
The porter shook his head. ‘I’d have made sure it was safe anyway, mademoiselle. But there was so much to-ing and fro-ing, that no one even thought about it. Your name was mentioned a good bit, though. The young misses were asking for you, and the old lady didn’t seem to know whether to curse you or pray for you,’ he grinned.
‘I can imagine,’ Anne said. ‘Well, I didn’t expect it to be so sudden, but I suppose it doesn’t make any difference to me.’
‘Will it be war, then, mademoiselle?’ the porter said cautiously. ‘Is that why they have gone?’
‘I don’t know,’ Anne said. ‘I hope not. That would be very uncomfortable.’
‘Dangerous, too,’ the porter said, looking at her significantly. ‘You ought to be careful, on your own as you are.’
‘Oh, I shall be all right,’ she smiled. ‘I am of no interest to anyone. Thank you for looking after my box, anyway.’ She reached into her reticule for a coin, which the man took with graceful dexterity and made disappear.
‘It was nothing, mademoiselle. I wish you good luck. They should have taken you with them, but you are well away from them in my opinion. I used to serve the Quality – they were one thing. But these– !’ He shrugged eloquently. ‘You be careful, mademoiselle. There are some funny people about in Paris these days.’