annelistre:
She arrives late, as she often does, wind in her hair and a rather eventful story of a broken carriage wheel on her lips. It isn’t, of course, at all courteous to keep a family guest waiting, much less so a pair of them, and least of all Mr and Mrs Duffin, neither of whom she has seen in - what, eight months? Nine? Anne breezes into the sitting room with a grin, shakes hands, offers apologies to all who are present, and throws herself head-first into a passionate bit of chit-chat. Though she is certain to lean intimately upon the back of Mrs Duffin’s chair with one nonchalant forearm as she takes her first glass of wine, dedicating herself fully to the pleasant company, Anne finds her attention ever straying towards the stranger sat upon the sofa. It isn’t entirely unexpected to see the couple with some new acquaintance in tow – but still! An otherwise unaccompanied woman, one so young and (dare she think it?) so handsome …! Anne soon fails to contain her curiosity a second longer. In the last tumultuous ripples brought on by her unseemly arrival, she rises from her seat and leaves the others to their card game. Let Marian squawk endlessly on about the indignity of certain older sisters lacking any respect for old family friends - it makes for a perfect diversion. Within a moment, she has crossed the room and made herself comfortably at home on the sofa beside the little stranger. “ May I? ” she asks belatedly, but with a smile, gaze searching the lady’s lovely countenance. Well! The evening promises to be much sweeter than anticipated. Anne holds out a gallant hand in greeting and lets her regard flicker ever so briefly to the book in the girl’s grasp. Mm. An avid reader, then. Much like herself. “ I’m afraid we haven’t been adequately introduced. Miss Lister. Anne. I’m certain my sister has entertained you all evening with tales of my impropriety: you must know all about me already. What are you reading, Miss …? ”
The book shuts as Anne joins her. It would be easy enough to remember where she’d left off if she’s once again left for more interesting company. Catherine extends her own hand, giving a firm handshake, and smiles. “I may have heard about you already Miss Lister, but I’ve always preferred to hold off my assumptions until I actually meet the person in question. Catherine,” she answers and then quickly remembers that giving one’s first name is not the proper etiquette. “Hennassy, Catherine Hennassy.” So far most people have passed off any of her accidents as her not being from here, so she hopes that the same will ring true. “I was entertaining myself with an old classic, Pride and Prejudice. But I was admiring quite the number of novels that were on your shelves. Am I mistaken in thinking that you are the one to praise for acquiring such an extensive collection?” There is something vaguely familiar about the name Anne Lister, but Catherine can’t quite recall it. While she enjoyed the Edwardian era, her own expertise lay in Egyptian history. Not particularly helpful in trying to navigate this time period. “I wonder if you might have any particular recommendations?”
