May I direct you to episode 5’s recap here, if you need a refresher, before we jump into episode 6, henceforth.
Anne is in town and pissed because the mocking marriage announcement was reprinted in Halifax’s other newspaper, so it has circulated again. She herself is not embarrassed, of course, but she’s a lioness when it comes to defending Ann. Beyond that, she’s certain it was written by “The Yellows,” the political party losing the navigation committee voting. I’m not going to pretend to have a grasp on British politics here, nor do I think our readers are terribly interested in the political end of this series. We are here for the Sapphics, so I will focus on such.
Being accused of intimidation herself (to steer voting,) Anne rants, “What was that idiotic marriage announcement if not some feeble attempt to humiliate me? Some cowardly effort to point a finger because they don’t like my opinions or the cut of my jib? How dare anyone speak to me of intimidation!” I hear that.
Back at Shibden, Anne’s father calls her in, telling her to shut the door. He hands her a letter he received, thinking it was for him as it’s addressed to Captain Lister. Inside was a clipping of the faux marriage announcement and a congratulatory note.
Imagine the emotional contradiction of experiencing the actual joy of your secret, but very real in commitment, marriage in juxtaposition with having to pretend you aren’t upset that everyone is making fun of your relationship publicly; as you publicly scoff at the idea that your bond and living situation is anything other than plutonic. The only word that comes to mind is agony.
“You know if you didn’t draw attention to how odd you are, they wouldn’t do these things!” Mr. Lister advises. Anne literally grates her teeth in reply, the disdain in her voice not at all hidden. Good for you Anne, don’t indulge this criticism from family that you yourself keep in a comfortable life through your business endeavors.
We haven’t seen Anne at the coal pits in awhile. Alas, they’re still in progress. The plan is to sell the coal but also to prove Rawson’s trespassing.
May I just say that I am enamored with the velvet floral vest that Anne is wearing? Well, I said it. Anne’s style is my favorite.
Anne is scheming on the idea of flooding her own pit to stop several other coal miners from stealing her coal — just a quick nip in the bud to end the thievery and, let’s be real here, show her dominance in retaliation. The concern is that she could potentially flood the Walker pit, Ann’s, at the same time and that would be disastrous. Selling coal is still very much the plan. The man she’s consulting, regarding her proposed plan tells her, confidently, that if she flooded her pit, the water wouldn’t touch Walker pit. “Oh,” says Anne — and there’s that look in her eye.
But, wait a minute, when talking to the guy who heads the work on her pits, she is told by him that it’s extremely likely she will flood Walker pit at the same time if she goes ahead with watering her pit. Honestly, I cannot keep all the men in this series straight, nor do I want to. Nor do I anticipate that you yourself will know who I am speaking of if I throw out a man’s name. So this is what you get! Anne is distressed by the inconsistent information and mentally grappling with her next move.
She brings her woes to her father, who seems to help calm her slightly. This evening’s conversation turns as her uncle realizes the mistake he made earlier. He grabs hold of her hand as she gets up to leave, telling her “I’m sorry if I upset you this morning. I’ve always tried to do my best for you, one way or another. It’s just I haven’t always known how and I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing.” Despite the kind intent and love in these words, he proceeds to question her plans to turn one of their properties into a hotel — saying, “What if it fails? You don’t want to get laughed at.” Oh, Mr.Lister . If Anne was concerned with getting laughed at she certainly wouldn’t be the grandiose woman you’ve all come to depend on.
Ann lies in bed, clearly deep in thought, and glances a side eye towards the door when she hears Anne walk in. Anne spoons up against her, running her hand down her body, excitedly exclaiming, “Adney!” She’s met with a harsh, “Stop leaning on me,” from Ann. “What’s the matter? Hmm,” Anne cooes as she continues her attempt to ignite a love making session. Ann is not having it, whatsoever. She’s not happy about the way she’s been portrayed in a letter Anne wrote to a friend in Copenhagen.
Either Anne is truly clueless, or she’s playing clueless, to the fact that the letter could at all be upsetting. So Ann asks Anne to read the letter aloud. It was perfectly pleasant, but that’s just the thing — it was perfectly pleasant and mundane and written as a side note.
It’s a fight now. “You’ve put me in brackets! … I’m a clause. I’m an aside,” Ann explains, addressing her discomfort. “It’s an elegant interjection,” Anne thinks, who is still not getting it. “I’m sorry if you think that’s how it reads,” Anne replies to Ann suggesting she’s being introduced as an afterthought. Ann comes back with, “I hate that! That’s what men say! I’m sorry you’re so stupid that you’ve misunderstood.” This is clearly about a bigger issue that has been boiling under the surface, and this letter just so happens to be the match that struck just right. Ann doesn’t want to be Anne’s little pet anymore — she will be respected as an equal. This is a quarrel I am happy to see.
Anne leaves to rewrite the letter, although Ann has told her not to bother. There is no reconciliation and Ann is left crying alone on bed.
It’s morning and Anne wakes up after Ann is out of bed, they seem to be ships in the night passing each other in sleep after the fight. Anne hears Ann crying in the other room and, after peering through the crack in the door, goes in to her. Climbing off her high horse and dropping her stubbornness, Anne apologizes very lovingly and sincerely for hurting Ann. She explains that finding the right tone in which to introduce Ann in a letter is challenging. I’ll buy it, as that does seem like a reasonable and truthful motive. I thought the tension Ann was picking up on since the affair was the vein underneath this upset, but the culprit comes to light. “People are laughing at us,” Ann expresses through tears.
The marriage announcement, and an unsavory incident in town, is affecting Ann and it’s starting to show. She isn’t Anne in the way she deals with the negative kickback to their life choices. It’s time that Anne recognizes that and approaches Ann more softly as they navigate, what is sure to be, the first of many unpleasantries they will face from those committed to misunderstanding them. And Anne does soften when telling Ann they will continue to show up, as if they have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of. Her voice isn’t authoritarian and calloused through years of her own abuse this time, it’s gentle and blanketed in compassion.
“I’m not strong like you,” Ann admits, “I dwell on things.” Oh, sweet Ann. In a moment of absolute purity, and an affront to the naysayers who think Anne does not love Ann — Anne reminds Ann of the time at Crow Nest, when Mrs. Priestley walked in on them snogging and Ann laughed. “I was mortified and you, you laughed,” Anne recounts. “I think in that moment, I saw for the first time the real you, who is as brave as anyone.” A kiss on the forehead seals the admiration. “You are stronger than you think,” she says. Well done, Anne.
Anne’s ambition steams ahead as she progresses on plans for her hotel. Now we are talking about extended plans to include a casino and a bank. Anne’s drunk on the idea. She wants to get the ball rolling on these endeavors and, always met with opposition, tells the man she’s talking to at the bank, “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask: If I were a man, for which I have a thousand and one reasons to thank heaven and providence that I’m not, would you even think to question the amount of money I’m borrowing?” He is stunned into nervous laughter by her remark. And I am delighted.
It’s been found out by Ann that her sister made revisions to her share of property ownership, shifting everything to her husband. Their father had purposefully set everything up so that all they inherited would stay with them, and not be transferred to a husband if they married. Her sister undid that provision herself. Further, this means that property which would have reverted to the estate, and thereby Ann, after her sister’s death now goes to her sister’s husband. Beyond that, her sister and husband have given away significant properties to her awful and nosey relatives, the Priestleys.
A visit to her Aunt Walker is in order, apparently. Ann goes alone and I am so very proud of her for this. She is wondering if her family had any clue about Captain Sutherland’s actions (her sister’s husband.) Well, no holds barred, Aunt Walker immediately admits, “Of course we knew, we all knew. You weren’t well. We kept it from you.” Refreshingly, they do think Elizabeth was stupid for handing over her ownership to her husband though. Fair enough, as the entire family is effected by their estate shifting family hands.
Ann admits to her Aunt that she might very well intend to change her will to benefit Anne. Aunt Walker comes back with admittance that she already changed her own will, as soon as it was known that Ann moved into Shibden Hall. The changes were made in favor of Elizabeth, Ann’s sister. I’m a little confused here and not sure if this affects Ann’s inheritance specifically from her Aunt, or if this has a much more profound impact on the entirety of her ownership of her portion of the family estate left to her. My jaw dropped at the soap opera moment and implications of such, but it may have been preemptive because I’m not sure what’s going on.
In the Sutherland home, Ann’s sister is pregnant again. She had a new baby last we saw her this season, poor thing. Her husband has, apparently, been the one writing all the letters to Washington (who manages Anne and Ann’s estates) requesting evictions and what not. Elizabeth knew nothing about these letters and is sincerely upset to hear of the actions. I zoned out listening to her husband’s constantly condescending and patronizing tone. I can’t handle this dude.
I love this elder Mrs. Rawson, whom Anne has gone back to charm (as she does so well.) I am here for the banter between these two. Anne is looking for her favor to help secure the needed permits for her casino and hotel. This influence could be crucial. Christopher Rawson ambles in and is surprised to see Anne visiting with his mother. We love to see Anne making conceited men feel insecure and uncomfortable!
And here we have Marian, writing a letter to Anne knowing it will also be seen by Ann. She claims to be much improved, and she probably is after feeling she has laid claim to Anne. Marian looks cheerful and cheekily pens, “Either you or the medicines have done me good and as you have often said, knowing the worst is often the best means of reconciling ourselves to it. Come what may, however at variance with my wishes, there is one subject left in which I will never disappoint you. I will always do whatever it takes (the last bit was in French.)”
The letter continues as Anne reads it inside Shibden, “I once wronged my own heart to please my own family but this was not doing right and dearly I have paid for it. But the scale is now turned. My thoughts are now set upon deserving your good opinion to the last. And I will not put it in your power to find fault with me again,” Marian writes. Anne finishes reading with a groan, as her sister asks where Ann is — eyeing Anne perceptively as she holds this letter from the woman she’s unfond of. The entirety of the letter is full of Marian’s spunk — that’s what we’ll call it.
Ann gets an anonymous letter urging her to leave Anne, as she will only hurt her and ruin her reputation. A name is mentioned, Eliza Raine. The letter suggests that Ann should ask Anne to tell her about Eliza Raine.
Anne is immediately upset, clearly this has struck a very emotional nerve with her. Ann wants to know, “Was she another Mrs. Lawton or another Tib?” This one was different, and Anne clarifies that they were in school together in York when they were aged only 13. Eliza was put into an asylum when she was older, and has been there for the last twenty or thirty years. What Ann really wants to know, though, is “were you in love with her?” “I loved her, yes,” Anne replies promptly. “Were you in love with her,” Ann corrects Anne, wanting the full truth. In a telling reply, Anne ignores the reiterated question instead saying, “this has been sent to cause division and upset. Will you let it?” I think we know the answer. Ann pushes forth wanting to know if Eliza was in love with Anne. The rawness of Anne’s dramatic reaction comes to light now, the implication is that Anne was the one who caused Eliza’s illness and the reason she’s committed to the asylum. Ann understands and directs Anne to burn the letter.
I think Anne is truly worried that there is a vein of truth in this horrendous accusation. She asks Ann to please get out of bed and get dressed, that they must not give into this campaign to upset and undo them. Kissing her hand in an act of devotion before taking leave to attend to business matters, Anne holds a look in her eyes I cannot quite place. She saves the letter in her office trunk, instead of burning it, before leaving the house.
Later on, Ann lets Anne know that she doesn’t care who wrote the letter and she doesn’t want to talk about it. Speculating on who’d sent it is useless. Ann’s current sadness is coming from elsewhere. She’s wondering if it isn’t God’s purpose that we have children, and if she has no children to leave her estate to, what is the point of all of it? It’s become a new sticking point for her as she continually assesses where her life is going now that she is gaining control over herself and her destiny.
Anne takes this divulgence poorly and personally, as her mind instantly speculates on Ann leaving her to form a union that would beget her children. Is it not more harmful to restrict Ann’s processing of their marriage and reconciliations to be made than to allow her this? Anne has had years to come to terms with her sexuality and what that means in regards to the world offered to her but Ann has just now started to face this reality. Let her feel it, Anne.
“I need to have the confidence that this thing between us is truly settled and I’m not just keeping you warm until some man comes along,” Anne voices. Clearly hurt by the accusation, Ann just looks at her. The volume of Anne’s voice continues to rise. “I can be as a meteor in your life, if that’s what you’d like. A meteor that burns more brightly than anything you could ever imagine and then it’s gone, forever,” she shouts, then gets up, leaving the room and grabbing the letter about Eliza that she crumples and tosses into the fire.
The hurt comes from this: Anne always feels that she is never good enough to be someone’s reason why. Oh, honey. And, at this moment I can’t find fault with her. “Things like this — all my life. I pretend it gets easier but it doesn’t. We do things for us! That’s who it’s for! So that we have a life together. We matter! Having children isn’t the only reason to strive and do well and better oneself and be happy,” Anne declares. “You have to be certain,” Anne demands of Ann. Ann responds by picking up Anne’s hand in her, kissing it tenderly and holding it against her cheek and telling her that she is going to start packing for York, where they’re going together. She’s choosing this life.
