© Copyright 2007 by Sarah Baughman

Anne Hatfield took a deep breath. Finally her dream had come true. Dressed in a long gown, with empire waist, her chestnut hair was piled elaborately on her head. Peeking through the door of the room where she had dressed, she tried to glimpse if anyone had yet arrived; Anne knew the time had come. Taking a last glance in the mirror next to the door, she tucked an errant curl back into its place and stepped through the door.



John Barnett heard gentle footfall on the steps as he entered the early nineteenth century styled house. Glancing up, he saw Anne making her way to the ground floor of the large country estate. When he interviewed her, she wore a conservative gray skirt with a matching gray blazer. Her dress now was conservative – more so than that of her interview, with the skirt brushing the tips of her shoes instead of her knees – but exuded a subtle elegance that was lost with the businesslike look of her suit.

“Good morning, Miss Hatfield. I trust your accommodations are suitable?” John knew that Anne was the right woman for this job. In addition to her credentials being excellent, he had known her from their church for nearly five years. She was a gracious person, looking to make those around her comfortable. She also had a genuine love of the time period they would be portraying for their guests. Still, the question remained about how she would handle the first person aspect of the reenacting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnett. Yes, they are quite comfortable. I also took the liberty of arranging the quarters for our weekend guests.” She stopped at the foot of the staircase. He was impressed with her English accent. While he, born in England, could tell it was feigned, he was certain that their American guests would not know that she was every bit as American as they. Anne continued, “As soon as they arrive, I shall allow them some rest after their journey, then aid them in choosing attire for our mid-day meal.”

Grinning at her thoughtfulness – both for the guests’ comfort and her ability to so completely step into character – John took her arm and let her into the front parlor. “That’s wonderful, Anne. Here’s where we will all gather before the meal.”

At the affronted look in her eyes, John froze. He thought they had developed at the least a somewhat comfortable acquaintanceship during their association at church functions. Had he crossed some boundary of which he was unaware?

“How dare you address me in such a way, Mr. Barnett,” she whispered forcibly, stressing her formal use of his name. Upon seeing his widened gaze, she relaxed her features and offered a cheeky smile. In her own voice she said, “I’m only teasing, John. But please do be sure to use proper address once the guests arrive. We want this to be authentic, don’t we?”

“Quite. However, it will not be completely accurate, due to the fact that we are not related. You are not my sister. The only way you would be running this household is if you were my sister.” Then he added under his breath, “Or my wife.” John motioned to one of the elegant chairs in the room.

After Anne had settled herself on its cushions, John walked to stand before the large front window. Reverting to her feigned accent, Anne said, “Then we shall have to make do with the present situation, I suppose. For I am too old to be adopted by your parents, were they even residing here. And we are too ill-acquainted to be wed.” Even as Anne spoke the words, a deep blush stained her cheeks.

“Very true, Miss Anne.” John walked to the table set with various fruits and foods that would be offered to company recently arrived from a long journey. “Have you amusements planned for this afternoon? Mid-day meal will be about noon, with several hours to follow before we dine again.”

“Yes. After we eat, I thought I might play for our guests, offer the pianoforte to anyone else who might be accomplished in the musical arts. Also, there is always the possibility of someone wishing to write to their families that they are arrived safely.”

“How very accommodating of you.” John knew she would be a good hostess of the manor, but he was still becoming used seeing in action how well she was suited for this job. And that’s all it is to her, just a job, John reminded himself. Ever since he purchased the large amount of land and built an accurate Regency Era home, he had felt for the first time in his twenty-eight years a longing for a life companion. Previously, he had never really felt at a loss being a bachelor. But now, that he had a means of supporting a family and had finished all of the research that went into decorating Barnett Manor, he had felt stirrings which he could only attribute to the gentle whisperings of God.



Anne greeted the third and last couple who had reservations at Barnett Manor. As she led them up the stairway to their suite, she glimpsed Mr. Barnett, John, in the front parlor, laughing with the first couple to arrive. In actuality, they were not a couple, but two sisters. Already dressed in their period clothes provided by the Manor, they looked perfectly at ease flirting with Mr. Barnett, who looked quite dashing in his own apparel. The sun had shifted in the sky since that morning and its rays were now creating a bright backdrop to the scene in the parlor. Mr. Barnett chose that moment to glance up and saw Anne staring at him. She hastily looked away, stumbling on the steps. Why on earth should I be uncomfortable watching them flirt with him? Beautiful girls with a handsome man. What else would I expect? And John certainly is handsome. I really shouldn’t mind. Oh my, I do mind! The couple behind her, a Mr. and Mrs. Grady, inquired whether she was alright.

“Quite, thank you,” Anne replied. A quick glance behind revealed Mr. Barnett with his eyes still on her. “Simply a moment of distraction.” As she turned down one hallway in the upper level, she came to a door. “Ah, here we are.” She handed the husband an old-fashioned key. “I’ll be by in a half-hour to help you select some clothing for while you are here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barnett,” said Mrs. Grady.

“You are most welcome, Mrs. Grady. But actually, my name is Miss Anne Hatfield.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I just assumed, especially after the incident on the stairs . . .” Anne’s confusion showed on her face, for Mrs. Grady continued. “When Greg and I were first married, whenever my new husband was nearby, I was tripping on my feet, bumping into things, breaking dishes; my mind was on Greg and not on what I was doing. I saw that you were looking at Mr. Barnett when you stumbled, then when I looked at him, there was something in his eyes—oh, nevermind. I’m sure I was just seeing things.” She placed her hand on Anne’s arm and gave her a friendly squeeze. “We’ll see you in thirty minutes. Thank you.”

Anne turned around after the couple had entered their room. Standing there, leaning against the wall, was Mr. Barnett. What did he hear? “Mr. Barnett.” She curtsied, then, cheeks burning, began walking down the hall toward the room where all of the clothing was stored. Three gowns in each modern dress size, in addition to twenty different shoes, underthings, bonnets, accessories, and so on hung neatly in the front of the room. In the back was men’s clothing, similarly arranged by size. She needed to pull a few garments for the Gradys before she brought them there to see what clothes they would like to wear. Entering the room, she headed straight for the men’s clothes in the back, pulling three different sizes for Mr. Grady to try. His wife’s clothes were chosen as well and hanging by one of the three dressing rooms when Mr. Barnett opened the door to the room. Anne’s heart pounded at the look on his face.

As he crossed the room toward her with long, purposeful strides, Anne glanced around frantically for something to occupy her hands. A rather ridiculous bonnet with large ostrich plumes pointing in every direction was the object her hands first encountered. Holding it aloft, she said, “I was thinking of offering this to Mrs. Grady to wear tonight.” Looking at the simple dress against which she displayed it, Anne saw that it really was much too opulent for the gown. Feeling her cheeks grow warm again, she sighed as Mr. Barnett stopped two strides from her and removed the bonnet from her trembling hands.

“I believe Cook has chosen a rather delicious meal for our . . . dining . . . um. I really should finish here so that we do not keep the wait, I mean, the food, waiting. Um.” Anne started to step away from Mr. Barnett’s very direct and very intense gaze. When his arms came up to block her and his hands grasped her upper arms gently but firmly, she knew she was lost.



John knew the time had come to talk to Anne. He had tried to ignore the tugging he felt on his heart whenever he saw Anne. He tried to convince himself that she did not care for him. Indeed, he might have never said anything to her, but when she was taking the Gradys to their room, and stumbled when he looked at her, he knew he must speak. Something on her face compelled him to believe that perhaps she was not so indifferent to him as he thought. Perhaps not even as indifferent as she thought.

“Please allow me to speak freely, Anne. We have known one another for a time, perhaps not so very long, but long enough that I have been able to see your character, your sweetness and caring for others. I must say, I have no earthly idea when it happened, but I believe I’m beginning to fall in love with you.”

Anne’s wide-eyed stare almost caused him to lose hope, to think that he had been too direct. But then, how else could he be? John knew that once he knew what he wanted, he could not deal subtly with it. He wanted a place where he could invite others to sample early nineteenth-century life, so he made it happen. He wanted Anne to know his intentions toward her, so he sought her out and spoke his mind. Now as he awaited an answer, he held his breath.

Anne finally opened her mouth and spoke. Her words were so soft, he had to step closer so that he could hear. “You are right that we have not known one another a very long time. I suppose that the people at church will be surprised to hear that our feelings and our relationship have developed as they have.”

John stood looking down at her for such a long time that she blushed and lowered her gaze. He placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at his. “Our feelings?” John questioned. He placed his hand along Anne’s slender neck, gently grazing her jaw line with his thumb. “Are you willing, then, to see where God leads us in this? Be forewarned, Miss Anne, that my thoughts run toward a wedding.”

“I am willing.” Anne offered a shy smile. “I don’t know when, either, but I’ve been thinking of you as a rather permanent part of my life for some time now, even before I began working here. I think that perhaps God was preparing my heart for falling in love with you.”

John never knew if Anne wanted to say more, for at that moment he lowered his head and sealed her words with his kiss. When the door open with a creak, both jumped apart. Mrs. Grady stood in the doorway, a surprised but slightly triumphant look on her face.

“I was just wondering, Miss Hatfield, if you were ready to have us try on our clothes. I really am excited about it.” Pausing, she tilted her head to one side. “Wouldn’t a situation like this usually result in a forced marriage?”

Anne and John laughed together. “Perhaps not so forced, Mrs. Grady,” Anne said. “I think you saw something on the stairs that even I missed.”



Anne Hatfield took a deep breath. Finally her dream had come true. Dressed in a long white gown, with empire waist, her chestnut hair was piled elaborately on her head. Peeking through the door of the room where she had dressed, she tried to glimpse if anyone had yet arrived; Anne knew the time had come. Taking a last glance in the mirror next to the door, she tucked an errant curl back into its place underneath her veil and stepped through the door.




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