by Jann Rowland
“We would never do anything to hurt you. Our loyalty is given to you, not Mr. Collins.”
“And I thank you for it.” Elizabeth walked forward and grasped the surprised maid in a light embrace, thankful for her foresight to cultivate good feelings among the staff. They were good people, and she would miss them. They were certainly nothing like their odious master. “Jessica, I may soon have another situation in which I will be at liberty to offer you employment. Would you like to work for me when I do?”
“Oh, yes, madam,” said Jessica, appearing happy to be singled out in such a fashion. “I should like that very much indeed.”
“Then I will make the arrangements as soon as may be. It will not be for at least some months, you understand.”
The maid assured her that she did understand, and with a tearful goodbye, Elizabeth shooed her from the room, not wishing her to incur Mr. Collins’s wrath. When the woman had gone, Elizabeth glanced about, noting the lack of anything left denoting that this had been her room for the past month. As it was still only a little after noon, Elizabeth determined that she would be absent from the parsonage for as long as she could possibly contrive. Thus, she gathered up her pelisse and determined to walk in the park of Rosings for as long as she could stand the cold weather. Though she had come to enjoy walking very much, she was grateful that her forced walks in the December cold would soon come to an end.
When Elizabeth stepped from her room, however, Mr. Collins was there, blocking her path to the stairs. He appeared to be ready for a confrontation.
“What do you think you are doing, madam?” demanded he.
“I have finished packing my belongings, Mr. Collins. As there is still much daylight left, I thought I would leave for a constitutional in the park.”
“You shall not. I will not allow it. You will stay in your room until it is time for us to depart. I have already informed you of this.”
Though Elizabeth would have gainsaid the man, she decided that it was better in this instance to simply avoid confrontation. She would be departing on the morrow, and after that, she would never have to lay eyes on him again. Discretion was called for.
“Very well,” said she. She turned and entered her room without giving him the courtesy of any kind of acknowledgement.
It was a long afternoon. The time passed slowly, and though Mr. Collins did not try to enter, she could hear his heavy tread throughout the house that day. She amused herself with one of the books she had brought—and had subsequently hidden from Mr. Collins, knowing he did not approve of her reading material—but by the late afternoon, she was beginning to feel restless. Her window overlooked the road, and she had kept a vigil that entire day, looking for Mr. Darcy, who had promised to come.
The supper hour came and went without sign of him, and Elizabeth was beginning to become concerned. She had never known Mr. Darcy to break his word, but still he did not arrive. In due course, Elizabeth ate her dinner in the silence of her room and then retired for the night, all without sign of Mr. Darcy.
The next morning, she rose before it was light and dressed in her best traveling dress, bundling up against the cold for her journey away from Kent. And through all of her final preparations, she wondered what had become of Mr. Darcy. When they departed, there was still no sign of him. But she was certain she would see him again. He had promised.
Chapter XXVII
A pleased and relieved Darcy returned to Rosings after the hearing, content in the knowledge that his love was now free to follow her own heart. The words of the archbishop were appreciated, but he was happy that this incident had happened in the far corners of the kingdom where it would be unlikely to come to the attention of society. He would have braved whatever censure was required for the pleasure of her hand, but she did not deserve to be made the object of derision of those with nothing to do but gossip.
Upon arriving back at the stables, Darcy swung down from his horse and handed the reins down to the groom. He would visit the parsonage as soon as he could manage and discuss with Miss Bennet how exactly to remove her from the parsonage and where she should go, for he was certain that Collins would not consider her comfort.
As he entered his aunt’s house, however, he could hear the strident tones of Lady Catherine demanding his presence. Grimacing, Darcy thought of ignoring her, but he knew that he would have to face her eventually. He did not doubt that he would once again need to disabuse her of the notion that he would marry Anne, and a part of him was annoyed. It seemed as if he had spent his entire adult life fending the woman off. But it was not a discussion he would have again. Today would put an end to all her schemes.
When he entered the room, his aunt watched him, her eyes narrowing. “Where have you been, Darcy?”
Darcy returned her gaze with a cool one of his own. “I attended the hearing in Westerham, aunt.”
If anything, her gaze became flintier. “And why would you bother? What can the doings of my parson be to you?”
“Did you not wish to know what was decided?” asked Darcy with a pointed look. “I would have thought you would be demanding to know.”
“Of course I do. I am quite attentive to all the doings in my parish, I assure you.” Lady Catherine paused for a moment, and then she grudgingly nodded. “I suppose since you were there, you may inform me what has happened.”
“The marriage was annulled, Lady Catherine. That is not an unexpected outcome, as I am sure you will agree.” Darcy did not miss the wide smiles on the faces of his cousins at that announcement, but he focused his attention on his aunt.
But Lady Catherine did not react with anger as he would have thought. Rather, she nodded as if the matter was of supreme indifference to her. “Very well. I shall deal with Mr. Collins after that . . . woman has been returned to her family.
“But I am surprised at you, Darcy. You have taken an unseemly interest in her fate. She is nothing more than the insignificant daughter of an equally insignificant country gentleman. What can you mean by showing such an interest in her?”
“Perhaps I am merely concerned for the relation of a friend. Her elder sister is engaged to be married to my friend Bingley, and what happens to Miss Elizabeth is therefore of interest to him.”
“Do not think me ignorant of your interest in her, Darcy,” snapped Lady Catherine. “You would not journey all the way to Kent for such a trifling matter. And I have not missed the way you look at her when you are in company together. I am not blind.”
Darcy inclined his head, but he was not disposed to confirm or deny her allegations. When he did not answer, Lady Catherine looked at him closely, a harsh glare on her face, before she turned to Anne.
“Anne, sit up straight!” She turned back to Darcy, not even noting the fact that Anne had ignored her and had not moved in the slightest. “It is now time, Darcy. I have allowed this unseemly delay to go on for long enough. You will formalize your engagement with Anne before you leave this room. I will not be gainsaid.”
“As I have stated many times in the past, I will not marry Anne,” said Darcy, keeping his tone cool and calm. “Neither Anne nor I wish it.”
“It is your duty. There is nothing else to be said, no other decision to make. You have been destined for one another from your cradles, and it was your mother’s favorite wish as well as my own. There will be no argument.”
“Madam, you still do not seem to understand me, so allow me to make myself clear.” Darcy stared into the woman’s eyes, allowing his immovable will to show to her that he was not about to be bullied. “There has never been an engagement between Anne and myself. No formal betrothal has ever been drawn up, and there is no legally binding document which makes it necessary for us to marry. Anne and I have discussed the subject many times over the years, and it has long been our decision that we do not suit and do not wish to wed. Thus, all your schemes are for naught. We will not oblige you.”
“Schemes!” shrieked Lady Catherine, her eyes fairly bulging out of her head. “Yo
u insolent boy! I will have you know that this was the fondest wish of your dearly departed mother!”
“If it was so, then why did she never mention it to me?”
“You were but a child when she passed.”
“Regardless, it signifies little,” said Darcy, moving to a nearby chair and seating himself, “for I have no intention of ever yielding in this matter, and even if you were to persuade me, Anne would not agree.”
“Anne will do as she is told!”
“Again, it signifies little.”
Lady Catherine shot to her feet, her glare boring into him with all the fury of an affronted woman. “Listen to me well, both of you. This is not a matter which is open for discussion. I will see you married if I have to place the article in the newspaper and drag you both to the altar by the ears.”
“Oh, do be silent, mother.”
So surprised was Darcy that he swallowed the retort which had been on the tip of his tongue in favor of gazing at his cousin with unconcealed astonishment. Never before had he heard Anne stand up to her mother. Anne was stubborn and obstinate at times, but these traits had always manifested themselves in a more silent form of defiance.
“You will not use such language with me, Anne,” snapped Lady Catherine. “As I was saying—”
“None of us give three straws about what you are saying,” rejoined Anne. “Darcy has told you time and again that he will not marry me. We will not bow to your whims, so you had best forget that such a notion ever existed.”
“You will not gainsay me!” shouted Lady Catherine. She stalked up to Anne, and grasping her arm in a painful manner, she wrenched the young woman up so that she was facing her. “You are my child, and you will do as you are told.”
“Let go of me, mother.”
The next events happened so quickly that Darcy felt as if he were entrapped by molasses. The sound of a slap reverberated throughout the room, and the forceful blow snapped Anne’s head to the side. All of this happened before Darcy could move a muscle.
A fury overcame Darcy. He and the equally enraged Fitzwilliam stepped forward to forcibly remove Lady Catherine’s hand from her daughter.
“Have you lost your mind?” demanded Darcy. His hands closed around Lady Catherine’s arms, and he tore her away from her daughter.
Anne’s eyes returned to her mother. She stared in shock for a moment before her eyes rolled back in her head, and she sagged to the floor. Fitzwilliam, who had moved to her side, caught her as she fell, easing her slight form into his arms. For a handful of breaths, complete silence reigned in the sitting room.
“Fitzwilliam, take Anne to her rooms while I deal with Lady Catherine,” said Darcy at last, taking control of the situation.
For an instant, it seemed as if Colonel Fitzwilliam might not obey. As he looked down at the still form of his female cousin, the tension seemed to mount within him. The military man within Fitzwilliam was likely demanding that he take action.
“Fitzwilliam, let Anne be your first priority. I will handle matters here.”
A clipped nod was his answer, and Fitzwilliam left the room with Anne in his arms, but not before directing a hateful glare at their aunt.
As Darcy watched them go, a notion dawned on him which he had never before considered, though it was so obvious that he felt a fool for not having noticed it before. He suddenly felt certain that Fitzwilliam would not protest the solution he was considering, though Darcy was unsure of Anne’s reaction.
“Unhand me, Darcy!” said his aunt, causing him to become aware of the fact that he was still grasping her wrists. “You will unhand me this instant! This is your fault. If you had simply done your duty, then none of this unpleasantness would ever have happened. Now you have filled Anne’s head with dangerous notions which she has no business contemplating.”
A thunderous glare returned to Darcy’s face, and he turned his attention on his aunt. Lady Catherine must have seen something in his gaze, as she blanched and looked away, her struggling all but ceasing.
“This is certainly not my fault,” snarled Darcy. He moved to the nearby sofa, still grasping his aunt’s hands, and forced her to sit there. Then he stood to his greatest height and looked down on her with an unrelenting glare.
“How dare you, madam!” said he in a low and infuriated voice. “To be striking your daughter when she is in such delicate condition is an abominable act of the sort that I should never have expected from you. What were you thinking?”
Darcy was about to berate her more when he noted that her cheeks had bloomed and that she had looked away from him. Her blush was not from embarrassment, he thought; rather, it appeared to be more than that. As if she was the child caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
And in that instant, Darcy knew. “How long has this gone on, Lady Catherine?” rasped he, desperately attempting to maintain control over his emotions. “How long?”
“I know not of what you speak!” cried Lady Catherine.
Darcy bent over and glowered at her, causing her to shrink back into the sofa.
“How long?”
“Anne is my child! It is my right to enforce her to behave properly and to take her to task whenever necessary. As one without children, you can in no way understand this.”
“Have I not a sister many years my junior?” growled Darcy, though he scarcely felt capable of speaking due to his astonishment. He was wondering at the fact that he was truly seeing his aunt for the first time in his life. How could he have been so blind? “But though I have often been more father than brother to Georgiana, I have never slapped her in such a fashion. How long have you been abusing your daughter?”
By now, Lady Catherine was too frightened of his harsh demeanor to do much more than protest violently, though not coherently. It was obvious that he would not gain any information from her.
In a few swift strides, Darcy had crossed to the door of the sitting room. Wrenching it open, he bellowed for the footman, and when the man appeared, Darcy addressed him: “Find Lady Catherine’s maid, and bring her here.”
The man nodded and departed, and Darcy turned back to his aunt, noting the pallor of her skin and the apprehension with which she regarded him.
“What do you mean to do?”
“I will confine you to your rooms, madam, until we have departed. You will not be given another opportunity to mistreat your daughter.”
Lady Catherine made no response, but the tightening of her eyebrows bespoke the fact that her typical imperiousness was making a return. Darcy paid her no heed. Once he had completed his business here and seen Anne to London, all congress between himself and his aunt would come to an end. He would have nothing further to do with the woman.
When the maid returned in the company of the footman, he gave instructions to both of them, noting that he would allow no disobedience to his orders. When he had finished speaking, he turned to his aunt, motioning for her to rise and go to her rooms, promising with his look that he would force her there if necessary. For a moment, he thought she might attempt to defy him. But she quickly seemed to realize that he was in earnest, and with a huff, she rose to her feet and stalked from the room, her head held high like she was departing of her own volition.
Passing a hand over his face and rubbing his temples, Darcy looked out the window, where the parsonage could just be made out in the distance. How he longed to go to Elizabeth! But Elizabeth had proven how she was capable of handling the parson. He would go as soon as he could tear himself away, but for now, he was needed here.
The first thing to be done was to write an express to his uncle, the earl. Henry Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock, was a kindly man and not in any way similar to his sister. Between them, Darcy and the earl had watched over Rosings these past years, managing the estate and preventing its ruin from Lady Catherine’s excesses. It had been at his uncle’s request that Darcy had visited Rosings every year in the spring, in part to take a little responsibility from his uncle’s shoulder
s and in part because being in company with Lady Catherine once a year was more than enough! His uncle still visited in the autumn of every year and would understand the situation of the estate. More importantly, he would know the state of affairs regarding Anne’s inheritance. It was that, more than anything, which Darcy was interested in, given the thought which had occurred to him in the sitting room.
After writing to the earl and leaving some instructions with the staff, Darcy climbed the stairs to the family apartments and went to Anne’s room, where he found Fitzwilliam pacing in the sitting room, his face a thunderous cloud of grief and anger.
“What have you done with the old goat, Darcy?” demanded Fitzwilliam the moment he saw Darcy. “Whatever it is, it cannot be enough. I have half a mind to return biblical justice upon the vile woman.”
“Calm yourself, Fitzwilliam. I have taken care of the matter for now, but I fear that the situation is much worse than we had thought.”
A sharp glance met Darcy’s words, but Darcy interrupted Fitzwilliam before he could get started. Knowing the colonel’s temper, Darcy wished him to calm a little before he revealed his suspicions.
“Has the doctor been called?”
Fitzwilliam snorted. “Yes, I had him summoned, but the man I sent returned, saying that the doctor was not in any condition to see to Anne. The man is soused, Darcy, and it is not even the middle of the day! Is this the kind of man my aunt has employed to care for Anne’s health?”
Aggravated, though hardly surprised due to his aunt’s desire to surround herself with toadies like Mr. Collins, Darcy shook his head. “Is there a local apothecary?”
“There is, though I am not certain as to his level of competence. I sent the man out to summon him.”
Nodding, Darcy moved to the door to Anne’s room and cautiously eased it open. There, lying on the bed, he saw his cousin, her form pale and ghostly with the exception of the vivid pink of a hand-mark staining her cheek. His outrage at his aunt’s behavior once again rising, Darcy glared at the sight. Lady Catherine would not have the opportunity to do such a thing again. He swore that to himself.