Trapped at Rosings
A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Emily Russell
Copyright © 2019 by Emily Russell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Image: martin333/Bigstock.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
About the Author
Chapter 1
Lady Catherine stood at the drawing-room window, eyes narrowed as she looked out over the expansive lawns of her park. It was a beautiful spring morning. The grass was rich with life, and fluffy clouds skidded across a clear blue sky. The breeze carried with it the scent of Rosings Wood and the air throbbed with the promise of summer.
But the lady saw none of it. Her gaze was fixed on a young man and a young woman walking together on the lawn. Her daughter, as weak as ever, clung to the arm of her nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy, as they meandered aimlessly across the park. She watched them closely, trying to assess the atmosphere between them as best she could. They did not look like a couple ecstatic about a successful marriage proposal, but that did not signify much. Both Anne and Darcy were quiet, reserved people. If they had decided to marry, they would behave as sensible people who knew they had made the rational choice for their family’s benefit. There would be no unseemly outbursts of affection from them.
Something caught Darcy’s attention. His eyes fixed on something or someone across the park. Anne spoke to him, and he nodded and led her back to the house, but it was clear whatever attracted his attention still held it. He cast frequent glances behind him as if he was eager to go to whatever captivated him. Lady Catherine bit back an outraged cry when Mrs Jenkinson, her daughter’s companion, came forward to take Anne’s arm. Darcy bowed to the ladies and immediately strode across the lawn towards whatever fascinated him so much. Lady Catherine could not see what it was from her vantage point, but it soon came into view. She huffed when she saw it was nothing more than their evening visitors.
That foolish clergyman, Mr Collins, bowed and scraped to Darcy. His sensible wife, Charlotte, and Charlotte’s younger sister, Maria Lucas, greeted Darcy with smiles, but it did not take long for Darcy to move behind them to offer his arm to the third young lady who made up their party.
Charlotte Collins’s friend and Mr Collins’s cousin, the pretty Elizabeth Bennet, appeared to hesitate then took Darcy’s arm. Lady Catherine snorted with impatience. Ever the gentleman, Darcy had forgotten his primary duty was to propose to Anne. Lady Catherine and Darcy’s mother, her sister, Lady Anne Darcy, had planned their children’s union when they were still in their cradles. It had been their favourite wish that their children should unite their estates once they were old enough to marry.
Lady Anne had died many years ago, but their dream had not. Anne de Bourgh was five and twenty now, and Darcy was three years older. It was high time Darcy stopped his ridiculous hesitation and offered for Anne as his elders had planned he should. His yearly Easter visit to Rosings Park was the perfect time for it to happen. If he delayed any longer, Anne would be an old maid. Darcy needed to accept his duty to his family.
Lady Catherine tapped her foot as she watched her nephew walk arm in arm with Miss Bennet. The girl was a pretty enough thing. None of Anne’s breeding and pedigree, of course, but few men would find her unpleasant to look upon. If she’d come from a better family, had a large dowry, or even if her manners had been that of the fashionable world, Lady Catherine might have been suspicious that Darcy’s affections were elsewhere. But as the daughter of a small landowner whose property was entailed on Mr Collins, Lady Catherine knew she need have no fear. Darcy would never throw himself away on such an inferior woman. He and her other nephew, Richard Fitzwilliam, might enjoy her bright eyes, her quick smile and her lively wit. All young men enjoyed a pretty girl. But she was satisfied Miss Elizabeth Bennet was no threat beyond that.
However, that did not solve Lady Catherine’s immediate problem. How on earth was she to make Darcy propose to Anne? It was high time he made her his bride. If Lady Catherine had intended Anne for Richard, she could have ordered him to do so and dangled the prospect of being master of Rosings before him as an inducement. As a second son, he would have jumped at the chance to leave the army where he served as a colonel, and finally be master of his own estate.
But Darcy was a different matter. He owned half of Derbyshire. He already was master of his estate and completely independent. Worse than that; one of Lady Catherine’s servants reported a conversation he had overheard in the library between Darcy and Richard. Richard had teased him about finally proposing to Anne, and Darcy had said he did not see why a plan made while he was in the cradle and had no say in should bind him to marry his cousin. It was a decision he and Anne must make for themselves. Lady Catherine had been furious when she heard this. Her servant fled the room in a state of terror after she had vented her rage at him. She had been of a mind to summon Darcy and order him to marry Anne at once if he did not want to gain a reputation as a jilt.
But such a tactic would not work on him. She would need to find another way.
She thought she had found it the previous night. Before dinner, she had summoned Darcy to her private sitting room. He had looked a little perplexed when he arrived, and she had been quick to smile and reassure him she merely wished to spend time alone with her favourite nephew.
A miniature of Darcy’s mother lay on the table beside her. Darcy saw it as she intended he should.
“Dearest Anne,” she said. “I miss her dreadfully. It has been years and yet I still feel the pain as much as if it were yesterday.”
Darcy’s slightly wary expression faded to be replaced by a wistful smile.
“I wish I had more years with her, for my sake and Georgiana’s. I have memories of her from a young age, but poor Georgiana has none. She’ll never have memories of her voice or her smiles. She’ll never know what it was like to be held in a mother’s arms or to feel her kiss her brow as she falls asleep.”
“That is hard,” said Lady Catherine. “But in some ways, that means you are the more to be pitied. Georgiana did not know your mother so she cannot miss her. But you, who has those memories of her and now knows the loss of her — well, I believe you deserve the sympathy there.”
Darcy shifted in his chair, and his expression became guarded. “It is not a competition between Georgiana and I. We have both suffered a loss. As have all of us who loved her, or who would have loved her.”
With effort, Lady Catherine kept the smile plastered on her face. Why did the boy have to be so
contrary?
“She loved you very much you know. You were her pride and joy. Every letter I received from her was filled with stories of your antics and proud accounts of how fast you were growing.” She leaned towards Darcy. “Her last words were about you, you know.”
Darcy nodded. “Yes. Father told me.”
Lady Catherine shook her head. “No, those were her last words to him. Her last words of all were to me. She told me how much it pained her to leave you especially as you would soon grow into a man. She would have given anything to be with you and guide you on the path to manhood. She asked me to take on that role and see you were content and living your life in the correct manner. She had so many plans for your future. I believe I have told you of some of them…”
Darcy sat straighter in his chair as if to put more space between them. He did not respond.
Lady Catherine sighed. She picked up the miniature and kissed it. She took Darcy’s hand and placed it inside, then closed his fingers around it.
“I called you here because I want you to have this. It is my favourite picture of her. I think it belongs with you.”
“That is unnecessary, Aunt. Georgiana and I have many pictures of Mama. I cannot take this from you.”
Lady Catherine shook her head. “No, it belongs with you. I want you to keep it with you always so you can remember her and feel her close to you. It is my gift to you.”
Darcy nodded. He opened his hand and gazed at his mother’s face. Lady Anne had his dark eyes and Georgiana’s golden curls. He traced a gentle finger over her image, and his jaw tightened as he seemed to struggle with a powerful emotion. He swallowed and rose to his feet.
“Thank you, Aunt. I will cherish this gift. If you will excuse me, I will allow you to change for dinner.”
He bowed and left the room with quick steps.
The door closed and Lady Catherine smiled. What a dear boy he was. To think of a man his age growing sentimental over the mother who died sixteen years ago.
Lady Catherine was not fooled. She had seen the redness in his eyes and knew he did not wish to expose his weakness before her. She sat back with satisfaction. Forcing Darcy to remember the mother he adored and recall her wishes for him would go a long way towards convincing him to marry Anne. It was time he proved his devotion to his mother by carrying out her plans for his future.
Lady Catherine was frustrated that such a well thought out scheme had come to nothing. She had ushered Anne and Darcy out for a walk together, feeling sure his memories of his mother would prompt a proposal. And still nothing. The boy was disgracefully stubborn. She curled her fists and blasted the unfairness that the very reason she wanted Darcy for her daughter was the very reason he was beyond her control. Lady Catherine thought she was behaving remarkably well considering how angry she was. If it were anyone else, she would have ordered them to stop their selfish foolishness and do as she bid them.
But she could not do so with Darcy. It took all her restraint not to grab him and Anne and lock them into a room together until he was forced to propose to her to save her reputation.
Chapter 2
By the time Darcy and the Collins party had joined her, Lady Catherine was sitting in state in a chair placed higher than everyone else’s. She gave them her usual cool, regal nod and none of them could have guessed at the frustration roiling beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.
Darcy handed Elizabeth to her seat, then sat across from her. Colonel Fitzwilliam received word they were there and came at once, taking the chair beside Elizabeth.
“My groom mentioned seeing you arrive, Miss Bennet, and I came at once. I would not miss the chance to enjoy your lively conversation for all the world.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I am glad you are here, Colonel.” Her voice dropped so only he could hear. “Your aunt has monopolised my cousin and my friend. Maria is too afraid to speak in Lady Catherine’s presence.” She glanced over at Darcy. Her smile was mischievous, and she spoke a little louder so he could hear. “And your cousin hardly says a word. It would be a strained conversation if it were left to him and me to carry it.”
Darcy frowned and dropped his gaze. Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed.
“You are severe on him, Miss Bennet. But I cannot argue with you there. I have never seen my cousin so grave and silent. He is usually more talkative than this.”
“I cannot imagine it as I have never seen him be anything other than grave or silent,” said Elizabeth. “His friend, Mr Bingley, mentioned he is otherwise when with friends. But here he is, among his own circle and he is still as silent as ever.” She smiled across at Darcy again, but it faltered into a look of annoyance when he turned his steady gaze back on her.
Why was it that whenever she happened to look at him, he was always watching her with that same disapproving frown? She did not think she had ever glanced in his direction to discover his eyes were not already fixed on her. It was strange he should stare so intently at a lady he had once described as “tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.” Elizabeth could only suppose he stared at her because something about her appearance had earned his disapproval.
Well, what if it did? Her appearance was not for his benefit, and she liked him too little to care what he thought of her. She tore her attention back to the Colonel.
“You see how it is, sir? I am happy to have someone here who can engage me in conversation.”
The Colonel laughed. His easy manners were just what she found most attractive in a man.
In some ways, he reminded her of Wickham. George Wickham spent the winter near her home in Hertfordshire as part of the militia. The two had been drawn to one another and spent hours talking and laughing together at the various parties and dinners in Meryton. Wickham also had the added advantage of having been raised with Darcy at the Darcy estate of Pemberley and could tell her much about him.
Elizabeth already disliked Darcy for his arrogance and pride and his insult to her that she was not handsome enough to dance with. Having someone who had known him all his life and could validate her poor opinion of him was gratifying. And hearing how he had treated poor Wickham; cheating him out of the living Darcy’s father intended for him, only served to solidify her belief that Darcy was an inhumane man with no regard for others. When he left Hertfordshire the previous winter, she had hoped she would never see him again. It was just her luck he should visit his aunt just as Elizabeth came to visit her friend, Charlotte, after her marriage. But the Colonel was a pleasant consolation prize. If Elizabeth was forced to endure Darcy’s company, the Colonel’s lively conversation soothed her irritation.
“Won’t you play for us, Miss Bennet?” he asked. “Come, you promised us a song, and I would dearly love to hear you play. Darcy told me how much he enjoyed listening to you last winter.”
Elizabeth had smiled when the Colonel started speaking, but her smile faded to a look of astonishment.
“Did he indeed? Well, I am surprised to hear that. I did not believe that gentleman enjoyed anything about Hertfordshire, and certainly not my playing.”
“That is not true.”
Elizabeth started. She had thought Darcy could not hear their conversation once they returned to speaking in low voices, but he had turned towards them. His expression was earnest as his eyes once again fixed on Elizabeth. “There were many things I enjoyed about Hertfordshire, Miss Bennet. I told you once you should not attempt to take my character likeness. It seems you misunderstood me in several ways.”
“I do not believe I did, sir,” said Elizabeth pertly.
She rose before he could say anything else and walked to the pianoforte as Lady Catherine called after her to demand to know where she was going. She glanced back at the rest of the party.
“There is nothing but the pianoforte in this corner of the room, ma’am, so I think I must be going there,” she said with a smile. She only had time to see Anne de Bourgh’s eyes widen before she continued to her destination.
> Colonel Fitzwilliam joined her, still grinning at her response to his aunt, and took the task of turning the pages. Elizabeth played a favourite tune, and while she did, she had the entertainment of hearing the conversation taking place behind her.
“Miss Bennet has spirit when she plays but no taste. I have no love for these new songs from Italy. Tiresome twaddle. I never listen to them. I have told Miss Bennet repeatedly that I am happy to instruct her as to proper musical taste, but she does not desire my help.”
A deep voice responded. “I enjoy Miss Bennet’s taste. I think lively tunes suit her spirit.”
A brief silence followed. When Lady Catherine spoke again, she made no reference to Darcy’s remark as if she chose not to hear anything that was not to her liking.
“I am sure Miss Bennet skipped a note there. Did you not hear it? I am sure she faltered. Mrs Collins, I told you before, if your friend wishes to improve, she can practice in the housekeeper’s sitting room. She will not disturb anyone there. She will never improve if she does not practice.”
“I did not hear her skip a note, Aunt. You forget you said yourself you never listen to Italian songs so you have never heard this one before. Georgiana enjoys it, and she plays it so often, I feel as if I could perform it myself. I heard nothing amiss in Miss Bennet’s playing.”
Again, there was silence. Elizabeth played on. She caught Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eye just as he rolled his eyes at his aunt’s words. They exchanged quick grins. Elizabeth need not ask him what he thought of his aunt. She wondered how a man as pleasant as he could endure spending several weeks here. No wonder he and Darcy walked to Hunsford Lodge every day where Elizabeth stayed. Anything was better than listening to Lady Catherine’s dictatorial attempts to organise the world to her liking.
Trapped at Rosings Page 1