by Kelly Miller
In response to her inquiry after Mary, her father explained that she was now called upon to act as their mother’s companion. She often keeps company with their mother and visits the neighbours with her. He related Mary’s apparent contentment with this new role and her seeming appreciation for the social occasions she had always claimed to dislike. He shared his suspicion that the change in Mary was at least in part due to the fact that, with all of her sisters either married or being courted, she now enjoyed her mother’s attention as never before.
Her father had the good graces to refrain from mentioning aught of Lydia or her husband, Mr. Wickham, in such company, but he had lamented in his latest letter that Mrs. Bennet would often send most of her pin money to her wayward youngest daughter. However, in the same letter, her father had admitted that he had found an avenue for amusement in the situation: Lydia’s letters were amazingly inventive in the myriad excuses she devised for needing funds. He found that he quite looked forward to reading them.
Richard had been speaking of improvements he was making to Willow Manor in anticipation of his plan to breed Thoroughbred horses. Taking advantage of a pause in his speech and knowing of Richard’s appreciation for horses with excellent conformation, Elizabeth described the Arabian mare Darcy had given her. Richard voiced his eager anticipation to see the mare.
The happy chatter halted at the entrance of Lady Catherine and Lady Rebecca. Fitzwilliam performed the introductions, and the ladies took seats at the table. An almost universal alteration of attitude was apparent as most around the table gave the newcomers a sober welcome bordering on constraint. Gone were the warm smiles and familiar conversation. Instead, postures were stiff, countenances tight and wary. The notable exception was her father who displayed a smug smile and winked at her; it was evident he found Lady Catherine’s manners, speech, and air of hauteur diverting. Elizabeth explained the plans for the picnic, and both ladies expressed an interest in attending. It required all of her fortitude not to allow her smile to dim at their replies.
Elizabeth set her jaw. She was prepared to be taken to task in front of her family, but Lady Catherine did not even glance her way. The unfortunate recipient of her ladyship’s relentless attention was Georgiana. It was not surprising; her sister’s studious avoidance of her aunt over the past years must have made her an object of avid interest for the lady. Lady Catherine asked Georgiana a series of questions clearly aimed at determining whether her niece was running her household in an efficient mode. Elizabeth attempted to change the lady’s focus by broaching other subjects, but Lady Catherine was as determined as a hound in pursuit of a fox.
After the fourth such question, when Georgiana’s speech became stilted and her face took on a reddish hue, Richard interjected with a fierce glare at his aunt, stating with finality that his wife was an exemplary mistress. He then began a discussion of the crops he wished to grow on a particular section of unused land at Willow Manor. Elizabeth relaxed against her chair. Thank goodness Richard had stepped in. What a blessing it was to have her dear sister married to a man who was protective of her comfort.
Mrs. Reynolds entered the breakfast room and glanced at Lady Catherine as she addressed Elizabeth. “Excuse me, ma’am, but Miss de Bourgh has arrived.”
Her breath hitched. She repeated, “Miss de Bourgh.” The woman who is despondent over my marriage is here?
Lady Catherine’s walking stick thudded on the floor as she leapt to her feet. “What? Anne is here?” At Mrs. Reynolds’s nod, she strode from the room.
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam both stood and faced each other. She addressed those seated at the table. “Please excuse us.” Was she to face another member of her husband’s family who came with the intention of causing her pain? Her husband touched her arm and gave her a tentative smile. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. With him beside her, she would not allow anyone to intimidate her.
***
For his own support as much as for hers, Darcy took Elizabeth’s arm and wrapped it around his own as they walked toward the front entrance. As they reached the entryway, Anne, with a confident bearing and a robust appearance, entered on the arm of Graham. Behind them, with a lowered head and hunched posture, was her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. The companion took a position behind the much larger form of Graham as if hoping to escape notice.
With her left hand locked in a firm clench around the top of her walking stick, Lady Catherine leaned her head around Graham and used her other hand to jab her finger towards the older lady. “What is the meaning of this, Jenkinson? Why did you allow my daughter to make this journey? You know very well I meant for her to remain at Rosings.”
Anne spoke before her companion could utter a word. “Do not blame Jenkinson, Mother. I told her I was coming here regardless of what she did. If she had refused to accompany me, I would have taken a maid in her stead.”
Darcy stood immobile with his eyes anchored upon his cousin. It was an astounding transformation! The woman standing in the entryway did not resemble the mousy, feeble cousin he knew—yet it was Anne. And she was standing up to her mother! Elizabeth leaned against him with her fixed stare directed at Anne; she was no less stunned.
Ingrained habits of proper behaviour cut through his wife’s fog of wonderment first, and she tugged on his arm to urge him forward. With a nod at Mrs. Jenkinson and Graham, she faced his cousin. “Miss de Bourgh, we are happy to welcome you to Pemberley. You must be fatigued from your journey. We shall have rooms prepared for you and your companion at once, and hot water will be sent up.”
Mrs. Reynolds was no doubt seeing to it as she spoke. Elizabeth glanced at him. He continued to stand beside her in silence in his disconcerted state. Thank goodness, his wife filled the void for his lapse. Her gentle pressure on his arm roused him to action.
He favoured his cousin with a smile as he held out his hand. “Anne, it is good to see you. It has been many years since you have been at Pemberley, and you have not yet met our son, Bennet. We have a few guests here besides Mr. Graham—whom I take it you have met—including Richard and Georgiana, so you have come at an opportune time.”
Anne stared at him with wide eyes and a sagging jaw as she took his hand with a limp grip.
He lowered his gaze, and his smile dimmed. Anne’s reaction was a stark reminder of his past neglect of her. It was no wonder he had shocked her; he had spoken more words to her a moment ago than he had in the past eight years. She had every reason to despise him for the way he used to ignore and avoid her.
Anne pressed her shoulders back and raised her chin. “It is good to see you, Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. I look forward to meeting your son.”
Releasing his arm, Elizabeth took a step closer to Anne and, in a bold movement, took hold of her hand. “Miss de Bourgh, as we are cousins by marriage, I hope you will consent to calling me Elizabeth.”
Anne’s eyes fell upon their hands, and Darcy held his breath. He could not read Anne’s expression. Would she snatch her hand away?
“I thank you, Elizabeth. You may call me Anne.”
He exhaled a rush of air.
Elizabeth’s smile widened. “Anne, Graham, Mrs. Jenkinson, we are all leaving on a picnic in two hours. I hope you will join us.”
Graham inclined his head. “That sounds delightful; I should be pleased to attend.” He turned to Anne. “Miss de Bourgh, I hope you will be among the party.”
Lady Catherine rushed forward until she stood between them. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Graham, but my daughter is much too delicate for an excursion such as this. She must stay behind and rest after such a long journey.”
Anne said in a firm tone, “I think a picnic is a grand plan. I should be happy to take part.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes bulged, and her face turned as dark as a beetroot.
Mrs. Reynolds appeared, accompanied by a young maid who flashed a
smile at Graham before escorting Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson to their rooms. Lady Catherine followed in their wake, grumbling and pounding her walking stick on the floor with each step.
When they had left, Graham approached Elizabeth, took her hand, and kissed it. “I wish you a very happy birthday, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “I thank you, Graham.”
Darcy fumed. Why did the man persist in being so familiar with his wife?
Graham directed a grin at him. “So now I have met the woman Lady Catherine intended for you to marry.” Graham winked at Elizabeth. “You definitely made the right choice.”
His jaw contracted. The presumptuous rake! For Elizabeth’s sake, he would attempt to maintain an air of calm.
As Graham walked away, Elizabeth stepped in front of Darcy and gave him an unhurried, sensuous kiss. Thoughts of Graham fled his mind. Nothing and no one else existed in that moment except Elizabeth and the exquisite thrill she created within his body. When she pulled back, his entire body protested. Opening his eyes, he said, “What was that for?”
Her fine, lustrous eyes held him captive as she rested her hands on his chest. “It was a small token of my gratitude for the wonderful surprise you planned for me today. My most cherished family is here for my birthday. I thank you so much.”
Darcy lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them. “I did not do so very much, Elizabeth, but if you are happy, then I am well pleased.”
Elizabeth glanced at the nearest footman, whose eyes were directed elsewhere. She moved her mouth next to Darcy’s ear. Her warm breath tantalised his senses. “I shall express my appreciation tonight in our room with a greater heed to detail.”
He froze as his stomach fluttered. The minx—she licked the inside of his ear! Before he had a moment to react, she had spun around and was hastening through the hall to rejoin their guests. She glanced back once to flash a pert smile at him. The corners of his own lips edged upwards as he proceeded to the breakfast room with a spring in his step.
Chapter 9: An Enlightening Picnic
As Anne followed the maid up to her room, her hand settled upon her heaving chest as if to calm it. The change in her cousin Darcy was a marvel! Not since before his father’s death had he ever spoken so many words at once! His entire mien was more relaxed than ever before, and his smile was nothing less than captivating. When had Darcy ever displayed such a smile? Not since well before his father passed away and on rare instances following the death of his mother. Was this the effect of marriage and fatherhood? It was a sight to behold. Darcy had always been handsome, even in his teen years, but his smile rendered him as beautiful as his extraordinary friend, Mr. Graham. It was apparent her cousin was happier than ever before.
Not long ago, she would have resented such knowledge. Now, it served as undeniable proof that Darcy’s decision to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet was, for everyone concerned, the correct one.
***
Lady Catherine followed Anne into her daughter’s room at Pemberley. A discomforting tautness circulated through her chest. Of all times for her daughter to make a sudden appearance! Shooing away Mrs. Jenkinson and the maid, she closed the door behind her and paced the room.
“Anne, I think it would be best if you spent the rest of the day relaxing in your room. I shall inform the Darcys of your change in plans. Tomorrow morning, you will return to Rosings.”
Standing before a mirror, her daughter took a cloth, dipped it in the warm water provided, and began cleaning the road dust from her face. “I have just arrived, Mother. Why on earth should I leave so soon?”
What was she to tell her? Anne was never supposed to hear the sordid details of her plan to exact revenge against Elizabeth Darcy. When it was over and she had returned home, she would have given Anne the satisfaction of hearing that the Darcys had an unhappy, troubled marriage. Now it seemed she had no choice but to tell all. “You should have listened to me and stayed home. I have too much on my mind to be forced to be concerned for you as well.”
“Of what do you speak, Mother?”
An image came to mind: it was the moment Lady Catherine had first caught sight of the woman who bore such a startling resemblance to the former Elizabeth Bennet. Her lips curled into a smile. “I met someone named Lady Rebecca Seymour in London. She is a widow and the youngest daughter of the late Earl of Seymour. What struck my interest was her likeness to Elizabeth Darcy. However, despite her similar appearance to the woman, Lady Rebecca is superior in rank, comportment, education, and beauty. I brought her here to seduce Darcy and thereby cause pain and embarrassment to his wife. To my amazement, he has so far failed to display any particular interest in Lady Rebecca despite the lady’s best efforts to attract his notice. Therefore, tonight she and I shall execute a plan to stage a situation making it appear as if Darcy attacked her in a fit of passion. The house is bound to be in turmoil after tonight. I do not wish for you to be here to witness it; it is sure to be an unpleasant circumstance.”
Anne whirled to face her. Her eyes were wide, and furrows ran the length of her forehead. “But why, Mother? Why would you go to this trouble to hurt Darcy and his wife?”
With a hasty indrawn breath, Lady Catherine loosened the grip on her walking stick such that she almost dropped it. What sort of question was this? Had Anne forgotten the past three years she had spent in misery? “Why? How can you, of all people, ask such a question? I am doing this for you—you who spent the last several years moping in a pathetic fashion! I know very well that it is my own fault for condescending to give that grasping woman consideration when she visited Mr. and Mrs. Collins. I could not have known how my kind attentions to the low-born woman would be so abused.”
Turning back to the mirror and wiping her face with a clean, dry towel, her daughter objected. “I have no wish to see any harm come to Darcy or his wife. I have long ceased to blame either of them for the unhappiness that has pervaded my life.”
With a gasp, Lady Catherine opened her mouth in a futile attempt to speak several times before she regained the ability to make a sound. “I do not understand. How can you say this? Do not think I have forgotten how disconsolate you were to learn that Darcy was to wed Elizabeth. You were crushed; you were miserable!”
“Yes, that is true enough. Since I was a young girl, you have told me of your certainty that he and I would marry one day, but it was not until Uncle George died that you began to speak of it in Darcy’s presence. Darcy never discussed it with me, but his actions were clear enough. After the death of his father, he avoided all communication with me save for the barest of civilities.”
Anne’s brows drew together as she continued. “For years, I told myself that it was Darcy’s own innate reserved nature coupled with the knowledge that we would one day be wed that made him awkward and mute around me. When I learned of his impending marriage to Elizabeth Bennet, it was a shock and a huge disappointment. It seemed my purpose in life had been taken away. What else was there for me to hope for or look forward to? I am persuaded that my depressed spirits precipitated my insomnia and head and body aches. It was devastating to learn I had wasted so much of my life looking towards a future that was never to be.”
Lady Catherine struck her walking stick on the floor, creating a startling racket that resonated through the room. “You would have married Darcy but for that scheming woman! I realize I am at fault for not seeing the danger she posed. It was my own grievous mistake to invite that woman into my house when Darcy was there. If Miss Bennet had not been invited to Rosings, I am certain you and Darcy would be married now.”
“I do not believe that is true. Furthermore, I do not believe I ever wished to marry Darcy.”
“Of course you wished to marry him!” Lady Catherine gestured around the room. “Look around you.” She lifted a valuable vase. “You should be mistress to all this—not to mention his house in town and
the other properties in Scotland and southern England. That artful woman took your rightful place.”
After putting aside the towel she had used to dry her hands and arms, Anne stood before Lady Catherine and placed her hands on her hips. “Have you not noticed any change in me?”
Her breath grew shallow. Anne did appear different. Had she gained weight? “Yes, I believe I do.”
Anne moved her hand over the skin of her arm. “Do you not recall how pale I used to be? My skin is tanned from the sun, and I have put on several pounds since I last saw you.”
She stepped closer and stalked around Anne as her eyes took in each nuance of her daughter’s altered form. Halting in front of her daughter, she stood immobile, leaning her weight upon her walking stick. Anne did seem to be healthier and stronger; a fullness and a pink hue enhanced her cheeks. Gone were the dark circles under her eyes that had become akin to a distinguishing feature, and her dress no longer hung loose and airy on her figure. Perchance the most significant alteration in her was the resolute, confident deportment she now displayed. How had such distinct alterations gone unnoticed until now? It seemed her sole focus had been on her design for that evening, and Anne’s arrival had incited an adamant concern for how she might interfere with it. A lump formed in Lady Catherine’s throat. “In fact, you appear much improved since I left Rosings. Did Dr. Finch prescribe a new medication?”
Moving to stand before the mirror, Anne smiled at her reflection as she removed her hairpins. “Not at all, Mother. In fact, I have been doing the opposite of what Dr. Finch has always recommended. After you left three months ago, I stopped taking the medication he prescribed. After a se’nnight without the tincture, my insomnia was cured. Since then, I have enjoyed sound, restful sleep throughout the night and awaken each day feeling refreshed.”