“How are you today, Anne?” began Charlotte.
“Much better, I thank you. I have not sneezed once.”
Charlotte eyed her companion. “Anne, as happy as I am to hear you in good health, I believe you know I was not inquiring about your sneezing.” At Anne’s continued hesitation, Charlotte declared, “Forgive me, Anne. It was not my intention to pry.”
Anne stopped and turned to the other woman. “Oh, I do not believe that was your intention. You are concerned for me, I know. It… it is just that—oh, you will think me foolish!”
“My dear, please share your burden with me.”
“Mother upset me greatly yesterday.”
“Yes, we were all witness to her abominable behavior towards you.” Charlotte lowered her voice. “May I tell you a secret? Even Mr. Collins was upset with Lady Catherine.”
“You are joking!” Anne gasped. “Mr. Collins?”
“You could not be more astonished than I. He was troubled that his esteemed patroness would show the bad manners to publicly berate ‘the district’s finest flower’ for doing her Christian duty.” Charlotte added with a smile, “Though he only admitted it to me after we were safely in our bedroom where the servants could not overhear.” Both women giggled. “But, Anne,” Charlotte continued after the laughter died down, “there is more to your melancholy than your mother. Might it have something to do with a certain officer?”
Anne whirled to her friend. “How? How did you know?”
“Oh, Anne, I have known it for some time.”
“Why have you not spoken of it before?” Anne then paled. “Do you think anyone else knows?”
“Mrs. Jenkinson might suspect,” Charlotte considered. “Elizabeth, as well—”
“Elizabeth!”
“Georgiana… Mr. Darcy, too—they can keep nothing from him.”
Anne put both hands to her face. “Oh, no!”
Charlotte took her friend’s hands into her own. “Fear not, Anne. It is certain that your mother suspects nothing. No one who would inform Lady Catherine of your feelings toward Colonel Fitzwilliam has the slightest idea as to your inclinations. Your secret is safe.” Anne’s face could not hide her relief. “Safe even from your love.”
Anne turned away. “Then everything is well—” she began to say when she heard a snort of frustration from her companion.
“Not again!” Charlotte cried to the heavens. “Three years ago only I saw what was happening between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. I said nothing, and look at the pain it caused!”
Anne was amazed at Charlotte’s outburst. “What pain? Did something happen while they were here that spring?”
“Never mind; it is not my tale to tell. In any case, all ended well. But I shall not stand idly by again.” Charlotte took Anne by the shoulders. “My dear friend, believe me when I say that Colonel Fitzwilliam is in love with you!”
“No, it cannot be,” said Anne. “You are wrong—”
“Anne, I have watched the both of you. To my eyes, it is as obvious as the sun!” Charlotte tried another approach. “Anne, will you admit to feelings for the colonel?”
Anne blushed, her eyes firmly planted on the ground.
“Anne?”
“Yes,” said Anne in a small voice.
“You love him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you not want him to return your love, or do you believe that you are not worthy of him?” Charlotte frowned. “For it is my opinion that he is not worthy of you!”
“How can you say that?” cried Anne. “Richard is the best of men!”
“Bah! A few medals, surviving Bonaparte—what is that compared to what you have endured your entire life? If he is such a great man, why has it taken him so long to know his own mind?”
“I… I do not understand.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam has been in love with you for about as long as you have been in love with him. It is true! Only, you have admitted to the truth of your heart’s desire and for a very long time, have you not? If Mr. Darcy had followed his aunt’s demands and asked for your hand, you would have refused him, is that not so?”
Anne nodded.
Charlotte continued. “But the colonel has only this week realized his true feelings for you. I watched him at the Clarkes’ and as he defended you against Lady Catherine. Believe me; he is violently in love with you.”
Anne’s mind rebelled at the words of her friend. For so long when she was ill, she felt unable to love—unworthy of being loved. Now that she was improved, why did she continue to feel that way?
Charlotte’s eyes bore into hers. “Do not let your mother poison you against happiness.”
Anne’s head snapped up, and tears began to run down her face.
Charlotte, distressed, embraced the young woman. “Oh, Anne, forgive me!”
As Charlotte hugged Anne, a thought cut through the jumbled thoughts of the heiress: Richard—yesterday—that look in his eyes. I thought he was going to kiss me.
Anne broke the embrace and looked at Charlotte with a dawning smile on her face. “He wanted to kiss me.”
“What?”
“He wanted to kiss me.”
Charlotte was puzzled. “Who wanted to kiss you?”
“Richard, silly! It was in his eyes. I saw it. He wanted to kiss me!”
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. “When?”
“In the snow!” Anne was downright giddy now.
“When were you in the snow?”
“Yesterday! After we fought with Mother. He came after me and wanted to kiss me in the snow!” Anne broke free and did a pirouette, laughing the whole time. “Hurrah!”
Charlotte watched in open-mouthed shock at her friend’s exhibition. Anne then grasped Charlotte, giggling.
“Oh, Charlotte, you are right! He does love me!” Unable to resist, Charlotte began to giggle, too. “He… he wanted to kiss me! He must want to marry me! Marry me! Oh, Charlotte, I have never been so happy!” The women hugged again in laughter and tears.
Suddenly, Anne pulled away and looked Charlotte in the face. “What do I do now?”
Anne’s confused expression quickly sobered Charlotte. With a slight smile, she looked at her companion and said, “You must let the colonel know that his attentions are welcomed.”
“But… how do I do that?”
Charlotte sighed. “You will find a way, my dear.”
* * *
Upon the steward leaving the library, Richard stood and stretched to relieve the stiffness in his back. As his back was to the door, he was surprised to hear a voice.
“May I come in?”
Richard assumed a more proper pose and turned towards his visitor. “Yes, Mrs. Parks, do come in. Please, have a seat.” Richard waited until the housekeeper was comfortable. “Now, madam, how may I be of service to you?”
“I understand you wish to speak to me,” she replied.
“Yes, I do. I would like to speak with you about the household. As you may know, I am empowered to look into all aspects of the management of Rosings Park. Your cooperation in this endeavor is vital.”
She handed him a packet of papers. “I have here the current household budget as well as the current accounts with the shopkeepers in Hunsford.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Parks.” Richard set the packet aside. “I shall review them in a moment. Now as for the staff here—”
“You will find a roster of all employees of the house in that packet along with their backgrounds and dates of hire.”
Richard walked behind the desk to take his seat. “I have already seen the reports of the tenants and the groundskeepers here at Rosings, but I cannot find your employment agreement or that of the steward.” He gestured at the stacks of papers.
Mrs. Parks unsuccessfully hid her slight smirk. “You will not find them in there, sir. The mistress had them burned, you see, but it does not signify. The solicitor has got the originals.”
Richard took a moment to digest this information. Why w
ould Aunt Catherine do that? Did she mean to sack both of them; if so, why were they still here?
“Ahem… it must be a trial, I suppose, to work here. My aunt can be rather capricious, I must admit. Your loyalty serves you well.”
Mrs. Parks looked at him strangely. “As I said before—I very much enjoy my position here. Do you have any questions about that, sir?”
Richard became flustered. Dratted woman! He did not know what to make of her! “Well… I… umm… the uncertainty! I mean, there has been quite a turnover among the household staff here. I must admit I am surprised that you are still—well, to put it plainly, I am shocked that my aunt has not yet run you off!”
Mrs. Parks’s expression became one of surprise. “Forgive me, sir; I had assumed you were better informed. I see now that you are operating under a mistaken understanding.” Her eyes shifted to the window. “Though how you could have been sent here without being fully prepared! What a muddle—”
“Mrs. Parks,” Richard cut in. “I insist you make plain your meaning.”
The housekeeper returned her full attention to Richard. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, neither my situation nor that of the steward is dependent upon the goodwill of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. We are both employed by your father, the Earl of Matlock, and have been so for over fifteen years.”
Chapter 12
A half hour later, Richard escorted Mrs. Parks through the door of the library, thanking her for her help. The housekeeper was everything Darcy claimed: intelligent, loyal, observant, and helpful. The time the two spent together was very profitable, and many questions were answered.
Richard learned that Mrs. Parks was in a constant battle with Lady Catherine over the management of Rosings Park. Mrs. Parks controlled the food budget. All else was subject to the whims of the mistress, including the hiring and firing of staff, with the exception of the butler, who answered to Mrs. Parks. The financial state was not what it should be, but it was not as dire as the rest of the estate; money had been put aside.
This coincided well with Richard’s plans. He saw many places for economy, especially in his aunt’s personal spending habits. He had no idea she spent as much as she did on clothes. Seeing the rather shocking figure did bring to the colonel’s recollection that he had very rarely seen Aunt Catherine in the same dress twice.
As the lady took her leave to see to the dinner, Richard still wrestled with the key mystery. Mrs. Parks could not say why she and the steward were retained by his father or why Lady Catherine had agreed to such an arrangement. He made a mental note to ask the earl about this; he doubted his aunt would be forthcoming. As for Darcy, he wondered whether his cousin knew of the arrangement or whether he, too, was unaware of it.
Richard’s generous heart felt a pang of concern for Lady Catherine’s current state of mind. She had never been a very pleasant person, but since Darcy’s marriage, his aunt seemed to grow more bitter each year. Now Richard thought he had the key to improving Lady Catherine’s demeanor as well as a means to ease his way to acquiring his aunt’s permission, if not approval, to seek Anne’s hand. To his chagrin, he forgot to raise the matter with Mrs. Parks. He started to go after her when he espied someone who would do as well.
“Mrs. Jenkinson! Just the person I have been looking for!”
Mrs. Jenkinson curtsied. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am at your service.”
“Thank you. I would like your opinion on a proposition. My Aunt Catherine has been out of sorts for some time. I trust we both know the reason for this.” Richard did not note the alarm in the lady’s eyes. “Therefore, I believe something should be done to remedy the sad circumstance that has caused her so much pain. I have in mind an idea to acquire a cat—a lovely new pet for my aunt. What color would you suggest?”
The electrifying result to this declaration was not at all what Colonel Fitzwilliam expected. Mrs. Jenkinson’s eyes grew so wide that Richard thought they were in danger of popping out of her head. She began shaking, a low moan rising from her throat. Like a wild woman, Mrs. Jenkinson grasped Richard’s lapel in one hand, opened the library door with the other, and dragged the stunned gentleman within.
The lady locked the door and turned on the colonel. “By all that is holy, you must not bring a cat into this house! A person’s life may well depend on it!”
“Control yourself, madam!” Richard was at a complete loss to explain Mrs. Jenkinson’s behavior. “You are very ill! I must insist that you take this seat. A glass of wine—may I get you one?”
“No, no—Colonel, I insist that you pay attention to me. Please!”
“I am afraid I do not understand. Are you afraid of cats?”
“Good God!” the woman exclaimed to the heavens. “Is this my reward? I risk losing my position—even eternal damnation—to save my girl, only to be thwarted by this fool? Lord help me!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam was too astonished to be affronted.
With supreme effort, Mrs. Jenkinson gained control over her emotions. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, please. I know I have insulted you—it is insupportable—but I know I am right in this matter. You must know that I would do anything for Anne—”
“Anne? What does Anne have to do with this?”
“She has everything to do with it!” Once again, the lady paused to calm herself. “Sir, you are a wise man. You have a gentleman’s education, and you have been to university. I deeply respect you. I believe you would make my girl—I mean, Miss de Bourgh—very happy.” She saw Richard’s stunned expression. “Oh, yes, I am aware of your attachment to Anne. Nothing would give me greater joy than to see you both secured in your affections and to see Anne as mistress of Rosings with you at her side.”
Richard stuttered his denials, but Mrs. Jenkinson only smiled. “Forgive me, but I saw you both in the snow yesterday. No one could mistake the regard you hold for each other.”
Richard’s mind raced, and he tried to take in what he had just been told. Each other? Does she think Anne feels the same way?
Mrs. Jenkinson returned to the subject at hand. “You must believe, sir, that science cannot explain everything. It is like faith; it cannot be proved in this world. Do not ask me how I know—I just do. I know that cats are… are not good for our Anne.”
Richard was still mystified. “But… but why? How can a cat hurt Anne?”
“I cannot say. But just observe! Since Lady Catherine’s cat… went away, Anne’s health has so improved that she believes she is strong enough to marry one day! That is proof enough for me.”
In a flash of insight, Colonel Fitzwilliam realized there was much the lady knew about Cleopatra’s demise that she was not disclosing.
“Mrs. Jenkinson, I must admit that I find your story… well, fantastic. It goes against everything I have been taught. But,” he added as the woman attempted to interject, “I cannot deny that Anne has improved remarkably since… umm… the incident you describe. I will be guided by the evidence of my eyes. You have convinced me. I will bring no cat into Rosings.”
Mrs. Jenkinson was clearly relieved. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“Shall we join the others? It is nearly time to dine. We must not upset Lady Catherine by being tardy.” Richard helped the lady to her feet but hesitated before going to the door.
“Let me make myself rightly understood, madam,” he said in a stern voice. “I know of the affection in which you hold your charge. ’Tis a wonderful thing. However, the next time you consider taking matters into your own hands, no matter what the cause,” he looked coldly into her eyes as only a Fitzwilliam could, “do not.”
* * *
Anne was already sitting at the table, nervously waiting for Richard’s entrance. Charlotte’s assurances of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s affection had only changed the nature of her uncertainty. Before, Anne had been unsure of Richard’s wishes. Now she was concerned over how to let him know of her feelings without acting in an improper manner.
Then, he was at the doorway, searching for her. The pair locked eyes
for only a moment, but for her it was enough. Her entire world ceased to exist except to study Richard’s face—his ruddy complexion, broken nose, funny ears, unruly sandy hair, and overly large mouth. That beautiful, ugly, darling face was graced by a small, all-knowing smile underneath his kind and lively blue eyes, twinkling with love for her.
Anne felt an overwhelming sense of clarity. She knew now that what Mrs. Jenkinson had told her was true: Her beloved loved her. She felt herself light up with joy as the nervousness fled from her body, only to be replaced by another unsettling feeling—one that could only be satisfied by Richard making his intentions known.
Lady Catherine coughed. “I am pleased you have chosen to grace us with your presence, Richard. Stop standing about in that stupid manner and take your seat or the soup will get cold.”
Anne’s happiness in the confirmation of her dreams was tempered; she wanted nothing more than for Richard to throw himself at her feet, in front of her mother, and beg her to make him the happiest man in the world. Of course, that could not happen. She would have to wait for a private moment soon. She hoped it would be in the same garden where they stood together in the snow.
However, her beloved could not resist giving some signal of his affection. Richard lightly brushed Anne’s leg with his as he sat down beside her. His body prevented Lady Catherine from seeing the look of delighted surprise on the face of her daughter.
Conversation ended as the soup was served. Lady Catherine maintained a stream of meaningless small talk while they ate, but Anne was not deceived. Earlier in the sitting room, her mother informed her that she had magnanimously decided to forgive her daughter and nephew for their indiscretions of the day before. Anne knew that Lady Catherine’s “forgiving” meant not bringing the incident up again immediately. Forgetting was not in her character, ever celebrated for its sincerity and frankness. Anne feared her mother’s malice was a weapon sheathed only for the present.
The Three Colonels Page 12