Anna Maxwell has lived a life of survival ever since she was forced to live with her aunt & uncle in the English countryside after her parents could no longer afford her well-being in New York City. Though she eats plenty in her uncleâs mansion, her mind is at war against her body, resulting in nervous attacks and anxiety. Her greedy and proud uncle doesnât have the time or energy to continue with doctorsâ visits for a niece he shares no blood with and has no love for.
After a particularly stressful attack, her uncle decides to send her away to a man who runs an asylum in New York City. She returns to her old hometown and is shocked to find a kind and welcoming Professor Austen instead of a mean doctor.
In Professor Austenâs home, Anna befriends students who vary in background, ethnicity, and personality. She finds comfort in the handsome Professor Bernstein, and eventually discovers her calling through the guidance of the members in the home. Anna must discover which dreams she must follow: the longing to be a wife and mother, or the desire to make a lasting impact on the world? Why not both?
Anna Maxwell has lived a life of survival ever since she was forced to live with her aunt & uncle in the English countryside after her parents could no longer afford her well-being in New York City. Though she eats plenty in her uncleâs mansion, her mind is at war against her body, resulting in nervous attacks and anxiety. Her greedy and proud uncle doesnât have the time or energy to continue with doctorsâ visits for a niece he shares no blood with and has no love for.
After a particularly stressful attack, her uncle decides to send her away to a man who runs an asylum in New York City. She returns to her old hometown and is shocked to find a kind and welcoming Professor Austen instead of a mean doctor.
In Professor Austenâs home, Anna befriends students who vary in background, ethnicity, and personality. She finds comfort in the handsome Professor Bernstein, and eventually discovers her calling through the guidance of the members in the home. Anna must discover which dreams she must follow: the longing to be a wife and mother, or the desire to make a lasting impact on the world? Why not both?
Her mind raced as she paced the length of her bedroom, the dress encasing her body too tightly, gripping her too strongly. The feather attached to her hat fell in front of her face and she yanked it out of its holder, throwing it to the side. The sound of muffled conversation and music wafted from below, a reminder that she was trapped on all sides.
The girl crossed her room again, sat at her vanity and embraced the reflection that looked back at her from her pristine mirror. She watched as the girl in the mirrorâs shoulder rose and fell, as her breathing slowed, her teeth grinding in frustration. She stood up, shut her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. Beads of sweat formed on her face. A knock at the door made her jump.Â
âComing,â she replied curtly. She grabbed the lone feather that had been the target of abuse, stopped in front of the mirror and replaced it on the hat resting on her skillfully pinned copper gold hair, smoothed her dress and went to the door. Awaiting her was her wispy cousin.Â
âOh, Anna, come on!â the petite Clarice cried, her hair looking worse than it had an hour ago. âPeople are wondering where you are, and Iâve run out of excuses.â
Anna took a deep breath, hiding her annoyance as her little cousin dragged her down the stairs to the loud room sheâd fled moments before. The cousins were mindful of walking slowly yet steadily in case a male suitor might cast a glance their way.Â
Clariceâs natural beauty rivaled Annaâs, with smooth blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was always busy at these functions. Men from all over the country begged her to dance with them. But she was picky, accepting only the finest and fittest among them. When they reached the open door, Anna watched as her cousin was whisked away.Â
The largest room in the house, complete with a high-ceiling and thick hardwood floors, buzzed with conversation and music. Anna knew the dancing was in celebration of something, but she couldnât remember what. She found these parties senseless, a waste of money and time. The graceful crowd ebbed and flowed with the music, couples dancing and twirling, attempting to sneak sly touches where their parents wouldnât notice.Â
She didnât mind not being asked to twirl to the music. She was not an unattractive woman, but men preferred small, quiet beauties like Clarice. Annaâs figure was plump, her features plain, and although she towered over the other girls by only an inch or two, she looked comparatively large in a crowd. Her unruly strawberry blonde hair refused to stay pinned to her head, and she was convinced that her freckles averted any attention that she might catch.
Had she been asked to dance, she would have agreed out of necessity, not pleasure. She despised the parties her aunt and uncle hosted, filled with shallow, fickle people who had more money than sense.Â
Anna scanned the room, trying to devise a plan of action for the remainder of the evening. She made her way to a group of ladies standing to the side of the crowded dance floor. This flock was older, showing more gray hair than the young women dancing. The woman in the center eyed her suspiciously and Annaâs shoulders tensed.Â
âOh, Anna!â her voice sickly sweet. âWhere have you been?â
âI just went to fix my hair,â Anna answered, choosing a lie from the trove she had collected over the years. Her aunt smiled at her through gritted teeth, maintaining the family facade.
âIâm not sure it did anything to help.â
She looked at her aunt, a scarred and deep wound itching inside her. Her motherâs sister was a woman of few words, but plenty of nastiness for her niece.
âYou look lovely as well, aunt.â
Anna moved past the women, swiping a drink from a serverâs tray, and making her way to the other side of the dance floor where the young men conversed and drank. She set her sights on a man with particularly light and slick hair. He cut his eyes to her, noticing the purpose in her steps, the swish of her skirts as she took aim. She could almost see the dread in those eyes.
âHello boys,â she said, grinning mischievously. âWho screwed who in parliament this week?âÂ
The boy with the slick hair groaned slightly but couldnât hide the smile dancing in his eyes.Â
âWe were merely talking about the finest dancers of the night,â a boy replied, recovering from a cough. Anna rolled her eyes, exasperated.Â
 âOh, come now, itâs 1911!â she said, taking another sip of her drink. âThe year of change and industrialization! You should be engaged in an enticing conversation, but you disappoint me by discussing the most trivial topic.âÂ
Anna took another swig and began to feel at ease. She paused, waiting for a reply, but when they continued to stare at her in silence, she pointed to the ladies sitting with her aunt.
âThe mothers and grandmothers go on and on about their children and grandchildren, and whom they ought to marry.âÂ
She pointed to the nearest group. âThe young ladies only talk about the finest hairstyle in Paris or the straightest smile here.âÂ
She noticed that some of the young men were leaning in to hear her, appalled and excitable.
âAnd over there,â she said, gesturing to the group on the opposite side of the room. âThose old men speak only of the economy, and the same tired subjects theyâve discussed for the last thirty years.â
She took a deep breath, finally looking at the many faces that had turned to listen to her tirade. She gestured to them again.Â
âAnd here, where a lively conversation of politics and policy and war and the world should be taking place, you frustrate and disappoint me with your shallow chatter and immense lack of knowledge.â
The light-haired boy attempted to hide his smile, running his hand over his mouth. The boy nearest to him gaped at her, and the other boys rolled their eyes. One of them let out a cough that sounded like a nasty word. Anna shot him a glare, then she heard someone behind her clear his throat. She turned to find her uncle standing over her, tall and menacing and disapproving of her recent sentiments.Â
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âHow many times have I told you to keep your opinions to yourself?â Annaâs uncle asked, his voice low but his eyes dark. He led her to a sitting room away from the party, his voice low and his eyes dark.Â
âPlenty of times,â Anna said, taking a sip from her glass. âI just donât seem to listen.â
He shut the door behind him, and his hand swung through the air, sending her glass flying to the far wall of the room. Anna, who prided herself in her calm demeanor, slunk away from him, her eyes wide.
âDamn it, girl!â he roared, stalking toward her as she backed away. âYou will behave yourself at these parties or you will be removed from my provision.â His voice was low now, his eyes dark. âI know people who would gladly take you off my hands and do with you as they wish.â
She backed into the chair farthest from her uncle. He shook his head, redness creeping up his neck.Â
âI took you under my roof for your motherâs sake. I paid to tame you, to give you manners and make you acceptable enough to marry and leave my house. And yet, you act as if you were still living in that gutter your parents called a home. As if you were still being raised by those bohemians and pagansââ
âBite your tongue,â Anna hissed.Â
âExcuse you?â Her uncleâs voice sent a chill down her spine. Anna straightened.
âMy parents are good people of upstanding character.â Her voice was low, chilling enough to stop any man in his tracks. But her uncle was not just any man. âThe same cannot be said for you.â
He looked down at her, his body shaking with rage. She stared back. For a moment, she feared he might actually strike her. After a long silence, he lifted his chin.Â
âYouâre done with the party tonight. You will retire for the weekend. I donât want to see you before Monday afternoon, you ugly thing.â He turned and returned to his party.Â
After he left, Anna slumped back into the chair, her uncleâs words echoing. She looked down at her hands, trembling in her lap. They disappointed her, looking too clean and soft, devoid of calluses and blisters, and no longer accustomed to hard work. She straightened and stood, then walked silently passed the party to the stairs, aiming for the comfort of her room.Â
Tonight was Friday. She had nearly three days to herself, days when her uncle would not expect her to sit still and behave correctly. She grinned as she entered her room where her maid was waiting to prepare her for bed.Â
At the outset of this review, I have to admit that I was captivated by the premise of this story, since my grandmother was institutionalized in a state mental hospital for the entire time I knew her. I feared for Anna when I read that her cruel uncle sent her to an institution, knowing what my grandmother faced.
Anna Maxwell was being raised by her aunt and uncle out of necessity. Her uncle always resented her and made her life miserable. He didn't like the fact that she was outspoken and didn't act ladylike She also had made friends with Edward, whom her uncle had named as his heir, and her uncle interpreted that as her being a gold-digger, wanting to get his fortune.
He decided to send her to a place run by a former classmate of his in New York City--an asylum that was as uninstitution-like as possible--a place where she could learn to be herself, to help other people who may have dealt with problems similar to hers, and also to find someone who would teach her what it was to love someone. Hers had been a life of rejection, and her cruel uncle, rather than sending her to an asylum where she would be tortured and punished for her opinions of current events, sent her to the right spot. Anna got her revenge on her uncle with her uncle's complicity, without his knowledge; her own hand in that is clever and effective as well.
I was impressed with the story's concept, character development, the kindness of the people who worked for Professor Austen, and the variety of people whom Anna would encounter throughout the book. The author's ability to devise a terrific story, however, was hampered in some ways by the author's need to have had a good proofreader. I didn't even proofread this manuscript carefully, and yet I found instance after instance of where the author or the editor (perhaps it was the same person?) didn't catch the difference between "it's" and "its," as well as "who's" and "whose." This kind of simple mistake is grating to me as a reader, as especially so when the storyline is so good. Such issues are easily corrected, and I hope that this author, who obviously has talent, will consider investing in proofreading before publishing another book.