by Maria Grace
Anne stood at the far end of the room, in front of the bookcase. She jumped a little as the door squeaked, and turned to face Elizabeth, a rather large book in her hand. Tall, like her mother, her figure was columnar and elegant, in an ordinary sort of way despite the fine white muslin that draped it. Her face was pretty and plain at the same time. Really, there was very little to recommend her as any great beauty. Still though, there was a spark in her features that Elizabeth had never seen before, enough to be intriguing. What had happened to put it there?
“I have heard this novel is quite entertaining, have you read it?” Anne asked mildly, as though there was nothing odd happening at all.
Elizabeth stepped to the middle of the room. “I started reading it, but found I could not like the heroine at all. She became insipid in the second volume.”
Anne replaced the book on the shelf. “Then, it is not for me. I have no use for insipid. Do you have one you might recommend? I may be here a very long time, and I might as well have some reliable form of entertainment.”
So, this was how it would be? And she intended to extend her stay for quite some time? What was she, a prisoner seeking asylum?
“I am sorry you do not think Pemberley will be up to entertaining you, Miss de Bourgh. If you do not feel it will be to your liking, you are free to return to Rosings. I will take no offense. We tend to be a quiet, family party most of the time. You might find us very dull indeed.”
Anne threw her head back and laughed heartily, a decidedly odd, screechy sound that resembled a hinge that needed oiling. “You will do very well indeed! I cannot think how it was Darcy managed to convince you to marry him; he is such a dry, dull sort. You of course already know. But he seems to have chosen very well for himself.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Who was this woman who looked so much like Anne de Bourgh, but sounded and behaved nothing like her?
“You do not know what to make of me? Good. I like that.” Anne claimed the largest chair in the room and settled upon it like a throne.
“I am pleased you have found something here to your liking.” Elizabeth tried not to roll her eyes as she sat across from Anne. She probably ought to moderate her tone, too. A lady did not express irritation to her guests, even uninvited—and probably unwelcome—ones.
“Oh, do not be that way, Elizabeth. Pray, do not. I cannot have done that much to offend you, not so soon in my stay.” She folded her hands before her chest, so prim and proper.
“It does not seem you have gone out of your way to be agreeable either.” Gracious! That was curt. Elizabeth pinched her temples. Lydia had been equally trying, and she had managed to find the patience to deal with her. Surely, she could do it now.
Anne laughed again, but without any trace of bitterness. “You are very direct—Darcy must have taught you that as no mother in England would ever permit her daughter to be so. You must wonder why I have come.”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Of course it did, with us showing up here with no warning, my mother shrieking like a banshee and demanding an audience with Darcy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, you heard me correctly.” Anne smiled—no grinned—as though she was heartily enjoying Elizabeth’s discomfort. “I know well what my mother is like. I have lived with her all my life, well except for the last year in Bath at the seminary. Truly the best year I have ever spent. I cannot recommend it highly enough for any young woman.”
“You have been away at school? Did not Lady Catherine always decry sending young ladies away from home as irresponsible and unnecessary? Besides, I thought your health was too delicate to allow you to travel.”
“I heard that for years, until Mother decided that I needed polishing since Darcy did not ‘do his duty to the family’ and marry me. She thought somehow the experience would make me more agreeable to some gentlemen so that I might be a proper married woman and get an heir for Rosings Park.”
“I see. Is she as pleased as you are with the results?”
Anne chewed her cheek and flashed her eyebrows. “Mother is not well pleased. She is convinced that I am totally gone wild. And perhaps I have.”
At some point soon, she needed to ask the name of the establishment Anne attended. Under no circumstances would Georgiana—or any Darcy child—be permitted to set foot in the place.
“Upon further reflection though, I do not think it the case, as I have only just begun to express what I have always been.” Anne sniggered. “You find that shocking?”
“I am surprised to be sure. You have never taken the opportunity to speak to me in the past. I do not believe I have ever heard you put more than two sentences together at any one time.”
“Entirely true, right and fair. It was not until I went to Bath that I experienced the delight of actually being heard. You see at home, mother did all the talking—a very great deal of it, and ensured that no one else was heard. After decades of that, can you blame me for giving up and not bothering?”
“I suppose not.” That was largely how she, Jane and Mary had coped with Lydia.
“I allowed her to find satisfaction in that way, I had mine in others. It is quite a delight to secretly vex her you know.” Anne leaned forward and dropped her voice to nearly a whisper. “To this day she believes that all my governesses were truly worthless wretches who taught me nothing. That I cannot sing or play or dance, much less speak on any matter.”
“I often heard that mentioned in after-dinner conversation.”
“I know. Have you forgotten, I was there as well? Are you surprised to learn, my mother is entirely wrong? I am actually very good at all those things and learned from all those dreadful women she employed to teach me. I just chose not to show any of them my accomplishments. Why should I if she would not give me the courtesy of hearing what I had to say? At the seminary in Bath though, it was quite a different story. I was quite the pet of the school, so accomplished was I, the star pupil for acquiring such a high level of proficiency so very quickly.” Anne clasped her hands before her and flashed a very false smile.
“So, why have you left school when you found it so very agreeable?”
“Mother of course. Well, she and the headmistress. They decided it was best that I should go after they learned that I had acquired suitors at the school.” Anne giggled behind her hand.
“Suitors?” Elizabeth gulped.
“Yes, three of them, in fact. More than any other girl at the school had. And mine were gentlemen, bona fide not just dandies playing at being gentlemen.”
“And were you able to confirm that these gentlemen were who they claimed to be?”
“They were known to one of my school chums. Moreover, they vouched for one another. I would think that they would have every reason to discredit one another, since they are all trying for the same prize.” She batted her eyes.
If she did that when her suitors were present, it was a wonder they persisted.
“Would your mother have approved any of these so-called gentlemen?”
“She never approves anything I want or like and never has. They would be no different, particularly since none of them would be apt to listen to her. She would have me marry some wealthy puppy who would kowtow to her just as she had me doing all my life. I have only just begun to live. Do you think I could possibly want to return to her complete control?” Anne’s voice rose to nearly a shriek.
“I do not imagine it would be appealing.”
“Hardly, hardly at all. I will not do it. Not for her, not for anyone. She dragged us here because she hopes Darcy will bring me under ‘proper regulation’ as she calls it. But I cannot imagine he will. He married you, after all, defying my mother entirely. If anything, I would think he would support me to do as he did. Perhaps, if you and Darcy supported me, then Mother would not be so set against me. I might continue to see my suitors and choose a husband for myself, without interference from her. Is that not what you both did?”
“I suppo
se so, after a fashion. But Lady Catherine is not Darcy’s mother and my parents did not object to him. And, to be perfectly honest, my position was very different to your own. I did not bring an estate into our marriage as you will. I have seen what a foolish, spendthrift husband can do to a woman—a sister—and it is worse than you might imagine. I pray you do not make a foolish choice. You are far more vulnerable than you understand. Rich young ladies like you and Georgiana must be very careful and examine the character of any man who pays you attention. You are in a position to lose very much indeed.”
Anne rose and stamped her foot. “You sound just like my mother! I had thought you would be on my side, that you would help me!”
“I … we will, you can be sure of that. At the same time though, we do not want to see you hurt.”
“You do not want to see me happy!” Anne balled her fists and shook them at her sides. Lady Catherine had done that same thing when she had visited Elizabeth at Longbourn—was it only a little over a year ago?
“Of course we do, but happiness—”
“I do not need another lecture. I do not want to hear it, and I will not. I simply will not. I am tired and will go to my rooms now!” She tossed her head and marched out of the parlor.
Hopefully her chambers would be ready, or Mrs. Reynolds would be privy to a memorable temper tantrum.
Was this girl truly Anne de Bourgh? And if she was, what were they going to do with her?
Chapter 3
Fitzwilliam leaned back and sipped his wine, watching the players at the dining table over the rim of his glass. The small dining room felt especially full tonight, even though there were only six in attendance. The table would comfortably seat eight, maybe even ten if they were the size of Georgiana. Darcy and Elizabeth sat opposite each other, exchanging glances that they probably thought private, but shouted their discomfort quite clearly, even if no one else chose to notice.
Filled with candles that glittered off mirrors and crystal, and garden flowers for color, the dining room was all that was comfortable and inviting, at least as much as when Aunt Darcy had been alive, maybe even more so. The table held a wide array of dishes, offering a bounty of mouthwatering scents. The generous spread was a particular compliment to Elizabeth’s management, considering only a simple family dinner had been planned prior to Aunt Catherine’s invasion. But that was only the opinion of a coarse, uninformed soldier—one who had grown up in an earl’s home run by a countess known throughout England for her hospitality. What should he know on the matter?
Aunt Catherine took rather a large gulp of wine. That was not a good sign. Usually it presaged a diatribe. “I confess, I am rather shocked not to see any venison on the table, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but Fitzwilliam cut her off. “You may blame me for the absence, aunt. I have been rather off my shot recently. We have had brutish luck hunting these last weeks. Darcy is an excellent enough host that he does not want to show me up in front of the ladies.”
Anne tittered and whispered something to Georgiana that left the poor girl stammering and blushing. Darcy glowered, but it probably was not a bad thing to accustom Georgiana to the outrageous things that commonly happened amongst ‘better’ company.
Odd how it seemed the higher ranking the company, the more outlandish the things that might happen. Still though, it was difficult when it was one’s own family proving outlandish.
Darcy glared first at Anne then at Aunt Catherine. If he kept this up, he might well provoke an apoplexy before Twelfth Night. None of them needed that.
“Still, poor hunting is no excuse for the number of … vegetables … served here tonight.” Aunt Catherine sniffed and pushed a carrot around her plate.
“I happen to like vegetables.” Darcy muttered, shoving a slightly too large chunk of cauliflower in his mouth.
“If you expect a dinner tailored to your liking, you might well consider doing your hostess the courtesy of say, letting her know of your impending visit?” Fitzwilliam lifted his glass toward Elizabeth’s end of the table.
She squeezed her eyes closed and covered her eyes with her hand.
So sensitive. One would think growing up with the mother she had, she would be of a sterner constitution.
Elizabeth rang the small silver bell by her plate to signal for the second course to be brought out.
Mrs. Reynolds ushered in a team of servants who refreshed the table with a fresh tablecloth, clean china and a new array of dishes for Aunt Catherine to complain about.
“What a lovely roast chicken, and is that collared veal and rabbit curry?” Fitzwilliam tucked his napkin into his collar again, winking at Darcy, then Elizabeth.
“Mother does not prefer rabbit. She says it is gamey and tough. I have not had it in ages it seems. I happen to be very fond of it.” Anne looked at Darcy expectantly.
Without meeting her gaze, he served her a large portion of rabbit curry, with extra sauce.
She took a less than dainty bite, ignoring the orangey-yellow sauce that dripped down her chin. “You see, Mother, it is quite delicious.”
Aunt Catherine harrumphed and retaliated by taking a minute ladylike nibble of veal.
Oh, this was too good! If only his parents were here to witness this. No one would have expected Anne to play such a nettlesome rattlepate, but it served Aunt Catherine quite right for all the years she had tormented the rest of the family.
“I do not recall ever having curried rabbit. Is this a receipt you brought with you from Longbourn?” Anne dabbed her chin with her napkin.
Aunt Catherine groaned softly.
“No, my mother was not fond of the spices. I found it in one of the household books Mrs. Reynolds keeps.” Elizabeth tried to smile.
“So, you are saying you decided to serve an untried recipe upon your guests?” Aunt Catherine muttered into her napkin.
“We were not having guests when she planned it,” Darcy whispered to his plate.
Anne glanced at Darcy and burst out laughing. “You must not take her so seriously; you will only encourage her.”
“That is enough out of you, Anne!” Aunt Catherine slapped the table hard enough to rattle nearby china.
Georgiana sprang to her feet. “Perhaps … I think … Elizabeth, do you think we might all go to the drawing room now?” Poor girl was pale as the tablecloth.
“I think that a very good idea.” Elizabeth rose, all grace and dignity. “You will join us, gentlemen?”
Her tone made it clear it was not a question. Fitzwilliam snickered.
Elizabeth led them out of the small dining room, down a long dim corridor of forgotten Darcy ancestor portraits, most of them as taciturn as Darcy seemed right now.
Fitzwilliam hung back with Darcy and elbowed him in the shoulder. “Pay less attention to her. You will feel far better for it.”
“I did not invite her into my home to criticize everything she sees.”
“You did not invite her into your home at all.”
“Must you remind me?”
Fitzwilliam clapped his back hard. “Perhaps we might all relax with a game of cards.”
“I hate cards.” Darcy straightened his coat and strode into the small drawing room.
Aunt Darcy had not allowed him or Darcy into this room until they started university. It was not a room for high spirits, she said, but for refined company and polite behavior. Given that criteria, Anne should probably not be welcome there even now.
A dainty flip-top card table was already set up near one corner, surrounded by chairs and candles. Nearby, a small pianoforte was also well-lit and stocked with music. A large wingback chair had been pulled near the fireplace, flanked by a small table bearing several of Darcy’s favorite books. Dear woman of his was doing her best to set him at ease. Lucky sot. If only Anne and Aunt Catherine would cooperate.
“I think some music would be in order whilst we digest that very fine meal.” Fitzwilliam looked at Georgiana. “Would you—”
&
nbsp; “Oh, I should very much like to play for you. You have never heard me play.” Anne rushed to take a seat at the pianoforte.
“Play? You have only just begun to have lessons. You cannot perform, not even just for family.” Aunt Catherine sounded just like a scolding hen. With her sharp nose, she looked a little like one as well.
“Indeed?” Anne tossed her head as her fingers danced along the keyboard.
Fitzwilliam bit his lip while Elizabeth squinted and cringed.
But there was no need. The sound that came forth was … astonishing. Simply astonishing. She was every bit as accomplished as husband-hunter Caroline Bingley. Not up to Georgiana’s standards, but few women were. Who would have thought the first time Anne sat at an instrument she could produce that?
But he and she both knew it was not the first time she had played, far from it. Why was she trying so diligently to shock her mother right now? Anne was too intelligent and too deliberate to be acting randomly.
Aunt Catherine half-sank, half-fell onto the sofa; Elizabeth caught her elbow on the way down, assuring her a graceful landing as befit her status. Georgiana perched beside her, utterly agog. No one spoke, or hardly breathed until Anne finished, then applause broke out.
“But … but you cannot play … only a few months of lessons …” Lady Catherine stammered.
Anne looked over her shoulder. “What can I say, Mother, but that I am a quick study. Did not my headmistress at school declare me the best pupil she has ever had?”
“You play like one who has practiced a very great deal.” Georgiana’s eyes narrowed.