by Meg Osborne
“Oh - no!” Lizzy said, laughing. “Please do not think of it. Mary will only worry. I am quite well by myself. And in any case, I do not wish to disturb her and Colonel Fitzwilliam now that they have a moment together.” She glanced up at the couple. “Do you recall, Mr Darcy, when we first noticed them together and anticipated their connection? I do not believe either of us expected it to occur so soon.”
“No.” Mr Darcy sighed, but Lizzy had the notion that it was a good-humoured response. “My cousin is not the most patient of men. It does not surprise me at all that he did not wait to declare his affections.”
“You think it would have served him better to stay silent?”
Mr Darcy’s answer came so late, and so quiet, that Elizabeth was almost certain she misheard him.
“Not in the least. I only wish I had his courage.”
“MARY, THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!” Colonel Fitzwilliam approached the piano with a broad smile. “And I am pleased to see you both getting on so well.”
“How could we fail to, cousin?” Anne asked, with a warm glance towards Mary. “When your bride to be is such a charming young lady?”
Mary coloured prettily at the compliment, and said nothing.
“I wonder if you might wish for some refreshments, Mary,” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, and Anne took the opportunity to volunteer to play the piano and allow Mary a break from performing. Mary accepted, gratefully, glancing over towards Lady Catherine, who was at that moment entirely occupied in conversation with Mr Collins, and shooting sly glances towards Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, who were standing by the window, speaking in hushed tones.
“How are you bearing up?” Richard asked, with a smile, as soon as he and Mary were far enough away from the piano to not disturb Anne with their conversation.
“Well!” Mary said. “Your cousin is so kind. She has offered to sit with me a while and play while I am here: she is far more skilled than I.”
“Nonsense!” Richard was unwilling to hear any such slight towards the young lady he perceived to be the most talented of all musicians.
“It is true!” Mary said, with a humble shrug. “She has had lessons under tutors I could only dream of. I most often had to find my own way.” She smiled. “When she selected a piece for me to play, and I confessed I would not wish to attempt it in company, because I would struggle to manage its range without considerable practice, she insisted I must have all the practice I wished for while I am here, and my very own tutor, in her.” Mary shook her head in disbelief. “I cannot possibly deserve such kindness, and therefore must put it down to her affection for you. You are fortunate to have such family.”
Richard nodded, but did not entirely agree with Mary's assessment. His eyes strayed, unbidden, to Darcy, who was the true apple of Lady Catherine's eye, and wondered how Mary failed to notice that where he was welcomed, Darcy was rejoiced over. He had made peace with their relative positions some time before, and counted himself fortunate that avoiding Lady Catherine’s overbearing affection also freed him from her undue interest in his affairs.
As if Lady Catherine herself had been privy to his thoughts, she raised her voice in Darcy’s direction.
“What are you whispering about over there, Fitzwilliam? You know I despise whispering. It is most rude and ill-mannered to have a conversation at the exclusion of all others present.”
Mary’s eyes widened, as if the criticism was levied towards them as well.
“Do not fret,” Richard explained. “She is somewhat invested in who Darcy chooses to associate with.”
Mary frowned, and Richard drew a breath, wondering how best to quickly appraise her of the complicated associations between Fitzwilliam Darcy and his aunt, but his cousin spoke before he got the chance.
“There was no slight intended, Aunt. I was merely assuring myself that Miss Elizabeth was not unduly stifled by the heat of the fire.”
“I should be very surprised if she were!” Lady Catherine exclaimed. “Why, there is barely a flicker of heat coming from the fireplace. See, I am able to sit quite close to it and suffer no ill-effects.” She appraised Elizabeth with suspicion. “I do hope you are not sickening for something, Miss Bennet. Come, sit a little nearer, for I do not wish you to catch a chill from standing so close to the window. Fitzwilliam, perhaps you will see to Anne. I do not doubt she will require assistance in turning the pages of her music-book.”
Thus directed, Darcy and Elizabeth parted, but not before they exchanged a look that sparked Richard's interest.
“Mr Collins assures me that the banns will be read in church this Sunday, Mary, so we must attend to hear them.” He smiled. “I hope you are not unhappy with the speed with which we proceed?”
“Not at all,” she smiled. “It seems like a dream!”
“For me, too.” Richard laughed. “I can scarcely believe how quickly things have changed for me. To think, I was dreading my future, unsure where I might live, what I might do. Now I cannot wait to find a home - our home. And we must travel, once we are married. I am eager to show you all the places you wished to travel to and have not yet seen.”
Mary looked up at him in delight.
“I do not mind where we go, Richard, provided we might be together.”
“Of course we shall!” he said, gallantly. “We -”
“Richard!” Lady Catherine's voice interrupted him. “You must not monopolise poor Mary. You have the rest of your lives to talk with one another. Come here, dear, for I wish to compliment you on your playing, and learn more about you.”
Mary dipped into a half-curtsey, bidding Richard a farewell, and moved closer to Lady Catherine, where she was immediately put to an inquisition on her schooling, her affection for music, and, at last, books, which subject Mary did her best to draw in her sister, in a manner that touched Richard’s heart. He could see Lady Catherine was resistant towards Elizabeth Bennet, undoubtedly because she saw, as he did, the affection Darcy had for her. She would be a potential barrier to Darcy and Anne's marriage, and must, therefore, be treated with suspicion. Richard felt his nerves rise at the way his aunt insisted on arranging things to benefit her, regardless of the feelings of others. Neither Anne nor Darcy wished to wed one another - yet she would do her utmost to prevent them marrying anyone else.
Turning back towards the piano, he determined he would not allow his cousins to be railroaded into a match they would come to regret.
“Anne,” he began, when she played her final chord and leaned back a little from the piano. “I am so grateful for your offer to tutor Mary, although I scarcely think she needs it!”
Anne shook her head.
“She was insistent that she needs further practice! I do not doubt it is merely confidence she requires, and as such, will do my best to build it up.” She turned, momentarily to Darcy. “And how is Miss Elizabeth? I fear Mother has taken a dislike to her already!”
Darcy said nothing, his lips drawing together in a line.
“Yet Mary, she is fond of,” Anne continued, sensing this a safer topic. “I am pleased for you, cousin, for I did so wish for your path to the altar to be a smooth one. There is much to be arranged in the short time before your wedding. How fortunate you are to marry just as you please!” She sighed, a wistful expression settling on her features. If Anne is as ill-disposed to this arranging of her mother’s as Darcy is, surely she will help us in orchestrating a marriage that will prevent it? he thought, glancing back to where Elizabeth and Mary spoke with Lady Catherine and Mr Collins. His cousin was close to speaking of his true feelings, he thought, if only he might be afforded an opportunity.
Chapter Eight
“You see, Mary!” Anne laughed. “I cannot teach you a thing you do not already know. You simply must have confidence in your abilities.” The pair were sitting side by side at Anne's own piano, in the music room.
Mary smiled at the compliment, but shook it off.
“I have had little occasion to play often for people other than my own family,�
� she confided. And even then, it was not always welcomed.
“Well, you shall have a captive audience here, and in Richard.” Anne smiled. “I am truly happy for you, Mary. I think you will be so content together.”
She fell silent, turning her attention to the pile of sheet music they had spent a happy morning playing through. She seemed sad, although Mary could not begin to understand why. Ordinarily, she would not have pressed a young woman so newly acquainted with her into sharing a confidence, but their pleasant morning prompted her to enquire nonetheless.
“Are you - that is, do you not wish to marry?” She had affected as light a tone as possible, wondering if it were quite appropriate to enquire of Anne. She knew for some young ladies, marriage was their first and only concern, and it was nought but the lack of an offer that rendered them single. Elizabeth's friend Charlotte Lucas flashed through Mary’s mind. She, too, had been resigned to anticipating a future as a spinster, content to be wedded to her piano and her books, as she doubted the possibility of her ever securing a husband. She was surprised, and glad, to now be in so different a position, although things had changed so quickly that it still took a great deal of adjustment. Anne was not plain, although she had a frailness to her figure that suggested a past period of ill-health. She was wealthy, too, both factors that must make her a desirable prospect for many young gentlemen seeking a wife.
“Alas, the right gentleman has not asked me yet,” Anne said, with a wry smile. “And in any case, Mama has particular ideas about whom that right gentleman must be, and who I ought to marry.” Her features clouded over. “She will not be reasoned with and I fear I have given up trying.”
Mary said nothing, knowing full well what it was like to face opposition from such a matriarch. She was grateful that, as the middle daughter, plain and shy, she had avoided much of Mrs Bennet’s attention. Her mother’s ferocious commitment to ensuring Elizabeth married Mr Collins was proof enough that she would be a formidable foe, had Mary ever chosen to disobey her.
“I am sure the gentleman will not be so very bad,” Mary said, cheerfully. “I believe many marriages do not start out as they do in novels, but love can grow over time.”
“Oh, I care for him very much,” Anne said, with a laugh. “But I do not think us suited as husband and wife. I am quite sure he agrees, for he has done his utmost to avoid our being thrust together. That is why I was so surprised that he accompanied your party here!”
“You speak of Mr Darcy?” Mary was shocked. “But -”
“I know,” Anne laughed at her reaction. “It is quite ridiculous. But Mama has this notion...” She sighed, patiently, and recounted the tale of Lady Catherine and her sister, Mr Darcy’s mother, agreeing when the children were still quite young, that they must marry and live happily together. “I fancy my aunt, Lady Anne Darcy, made the comment as a joke, for she had a witty sense of humour. My mother took it for fact, and it was rendered still more serious by my aunt’s death shortly afterwards.”
“Surely your mother wishes you to be happy...” Mary ventured.
“I do not know that mama cares much for happiness,” Anne said. “Contentment and security are her watchwords, and both of these might be secured most efficaciously by my marrying William. Regardless of how either of us feels about the matter.” She looked carefully at Mary. “I wager it is even more difficult for him, now that he begins to care for another.”
Mary’s cheeks reddened.
“Do you speak of my sister?”
“Ah, then I was not alone in noticing his affection for her. He downplays his feelings, and has not confided as much in me, nor do I believe he has admitted the truth to anyone beyond himself, if that!” She stood. “But I think them well-matched, the little I have seen of them, and will encourage him in it. At least one of us might marry as we choose.”
Mary was about to ask Anne if there was someone whose affection she herself sought, sensing that there was some more beyond her comment than was explicitly said, but instead, Anne changed the subject.
“Well, Mary! I thoroughly enjoyed our morning together. What are your plans now? Do you wish to take a walk? Or, perhaps we shall see where Richard has got to with William. I believe they intended to go out shooting today.” Anne shook her head. “Personally I cannot think of a less interesting pastime but I daresay they would think similarly of our musical pursuits.”
“I am quite content to read, or amuse myself for an hour,” Mary said. “I must not take up more of your time, when you were so kind to spend the morning with me.”
“Nonsense!” Anne laughed. “But I confess I am a little tired. If you are sure you are happy, I might take my leave and retire to my room for some rest.” She took Mary's arm, and the two walked towards the hallway. Mary was surprised at how Anne's fingers gripped her arm, and began to wonder if her new friend was quite as hale and hearty as she claimed.
“Would you like me to come with you?” Mary found herself asking. She was reluctant to leave Anne if she were truly unwell. “I could read to you, if you like?”
“You are very kind,” Anne said, dismissing her concern. “But I merely wish to rest a while. Please do not worry! And do, take leave to explore the house as much as you wish. I ought not to leave you alone, I suppose.” She bit her lip. “Mama is in her sitting room, I believe...”
“I am quite content.” Mary smiled, and bid her friend good morning, although she waited until Anne had climbed the stairs and disappeared out of sight before she looked away. She would ask Richard later if he might share with her the nature of Anne's illness. She did not like to be taken for nosy, or question her new friend too intimately, but she had little experience of illness, and did so wish for her friend not to be unwell.
LIZZY RELISHED THE feel of the ground beneath her feet. She had taken advantage of the fine morning, and noting Mary and Anne’s engagement at the piano had seized the opportunity for a brisk walk around the grounds of Rosings. In truth, she valued the time alone, for she had been so often around other people of late that she was suffering for a little peace and the ability to think her thoughts in silence, with only the sound of the wind rustling through what leaves remained on the trees for company.
Rosings is truly beautiful! she thought, admiring the cultivated lawns and elegantly planted gardens. It spoke of Lady Catherine’s good taste - and her considerable wealth, for the little Elizabeth knew of estate management indicated that such a property would not be inexpensive to maintain. Her thoughts flitted to Pemberley, for she had heard it spoken of often the previous evening, most expressively from Lady Catherine's lips. My nephew’s estate at Pemberley is larger still, she had remarked. I expect, Miss Bennet, if Rosings is remarkable to you, then Pemberley would be overwhelming indeed. This was proceeded by a pointed observation of how pleasant it was to see the three cousins together again, particularly Mr Darcy and Anne, who had been childhood playmates, and would one day be still more to one another. Lizzy had obediently looked, but not seen any trace of the affection Lady Catherine claimed to notice. Mr Collins, however, had exulted in the match. What a fine pair they make, Lady Catherine. How elegantly matched. When do you intend the wedding to be? This last had drawn a scowl, and Mr Collins had fallen silent, to contemplate his error. Lizzy had managed to hide her amusement in a sneeze, which served only to reassure Lady Catherine that her assessment had been correct and Elizabeth must, indeed, be suffering from some rapidly approaching illness. She had been ordered to retire early, and instead of bristling at the command, Elizabeth had gratefully accepted her exile, relieved to be free of the Rosings parlour and all who remained within.
She had not slept, though, merely lain still and allowed her thoughts to have their sway. Mr Darcy had been the saving grace of the evening, as he had been far too often of late. His actions haunted her even now, and she found herself replaying their snippets of conversation in her mind, seeking some understanding of the gentleman who seemed so changed from the man she had first met at Meryton. H
e was certainly still as proud, as well-mannered as he ever had been, but there was more concern, concern for her! That notion she had settled upon in the early hours of the morning. It was not so much that Mr Darcy was changed, rather that he had changed in his interaction with her. He treated her as an equal, as a friend, as... She shook off the notion. It might be that Mr Darcy had come to appreciate her friendship, as she had his, particularly at present, when she was glad of any ally. Yes, that was the word that she would best use to describe the Mr Darcy she knew now. He was her ally: in ensuring Mary and Richard's happiness, and, perhaps, in guarding her own. She had fully expected him to take her mother’s part in the question of Mr Collins, and had been pleasantly surprised at his siding with her. Even when she spoke a little too freely on the topic of marriage, he had not chastised her, nor judged her. If anything she had half imagined she saw approval in the dark eyes he had fixed upon her as she spoke.
She turned a corner, and, as if thinking of him had summoned him, saw at a distance the recognisable figure of Mr Darcy himself, accompanied by his cousin and a manservant, as they toured the grounds with their rifles. The promised shooting trip must have been embarked upon with all haste, she realised with a smile. She raised her hand and waved to them, almost before realising what she had done, but by then it was too late: they had seen her.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Colonel Fitzwilliam called. “Good morning! Are you walking?”
“I have been,” she said, as they drew closer. “It has been a very pleasant hour.”
“Where is your sister?” Darcy asked, glancing about as if he expected to find Mary hiding behind a tree. “You are alone?”
“Entirely!” Elizabeth sighed happily. “Or, at least, I was until I crossed your path.” She smiled warningly at them both. “I suppose now I must sacrifice it, in order to be polite.”