by APRIL FLOYD
Her heart broken as she glanced up into her dear friend’s eyes, Elizabeth rose and left the room before she might send Anne away with a feckless farewell.
Anne stood, her arms out, as Elizabeth hurried past with her face buried in her hands. Lady Anne rose and went to Anne, her voice whispering softly against the warmth of the young woman’s brow.
“Fear not. She is a confusion of wishes and dreams, of hopes that might never come to be. She will have recovered before you depart.”
Lady Anne knew her sweet Elizabeth was increasing in that moment, for there was no other explanation for her sudden departure.
“Oh, Aunt, I hope I have not lost the dearest friend I have yet again. Georgiana first, and now Elizabeth. I cannot bear it.”
Lady Anne walked her to her rooms and ordered her to freshen up and consider her choices. “Your Henry has said he will see you safely to Rosings. But you must write to us, promise me now you understand the reason I ask it.”
Anne turned, her blue eyes rimmed with the red of crying in one degree or another over the past half hour. “I shall, every day, a letter for each of you. I will walk to Hunsford myself,” she paused thinking fondly of Elizabeth, “to see them posted. And I will not stay should Mother be anything other than her letter claims.”
Lady Anne set her niece’s maids to work on packing her things, the lovely dresses and trunks of clothing they had got in London.
Anne allowed but one item to remain at Pemberley, surprising her aunt herself as she stood and gazed upon it for what seemed an eternity.
“Elizabeth will know I shall return should my wedding dress remain at Pemberley.”
They left her room with the perfect dress, adorned with tiny rosebuds and sweet pearls at the neckline, displayed carefully so as not to wrinkle the skirts.
Chapter 19
Elizabeth hurried to her rooms, her vision clouded by tears she could not hold back. Memories of the halls of Rosings, Lady Catherine’s unrelenting disdain, Mr. Collins hands upon her person, his spittle on her face…it was all so horrible.
But surely Anne would never face such treatment? She was the young mistress of the house and would be afforded a certain measure of respect.
She dried her eyes and dismissed the maid who sat tending the hearth. She wanted nothing more than to be alone in her misery. She loved Anne dearly, but she held a terribly dark foreboding of never seeing the young woman again. It made no sense. Anne had grown up at Rosings, safe from physical harm though under the cutting stares and dismissal of her mother.
But it was not Elizabeth’s choice. It was that of Anne de Bourgh, as it should be. Elizabeth sat before the fire and breathed deeply. Her emotions were as erratic as her stomach these days. Poor Anne must think she had gone mad. Elizabeth would go to her and make her apologies and help her ready for the trip to Rosings.
Mr. Darcy knocked lightly and entered, for he knew his young wife would be distraught at the departure of his cousin. They were like sisters, the two of them, and there was no doubt the pain Elizabeth would suffer as a carriage from Pemberley carried Anne away.
Elizabeth rushed into his arms, delighted for the comfort of his broad chest. William enveloped her within the circle of his strong arms and Elizabeth sighed with longing. They had come to know a deep abiding love.
Mr. Darcy held a fond fascination for releasing her hair from its pins each night and Elizabeth had become addicted to his gentle touch. He sat her upon the bed and began his ritual. He was slow and methodical and he spoke to her of his heart’s journey to hers.
“I did not plan to love you my dearest Elizabeth. I found your conversation and amiable company to be refreshing in Hertfordshire, though our first meeting was marred by my horrid insult. I did not think of us as man and wife until I returned home to find my mother drawn from the precipice by your mere presence. What she saw that day was the same I’d seen many times before. A light, a beauty with wit and charm but also with love and mercy in her heart. I still wonder how I came to be the fortunate man whose lake you tumbled into at just the right moment.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed as the molten thrill of his touch spread through her limbs. The delicious knowledge of her incursion into his heart elevated her mood and she turned, pulling his head down until his lips met her own.
She whispered the words she longed to hide from him. The words, once spoken, would change their lives forever. She wanted to be the first to see the moment of realization in his eyes, the speechless way his lips would move, the tears of joy, and the sublime happiness they would share when she told him of their coming child.
Instead, he bolted upright, his face a changing mask of surprise, worry, confusion, and sadness. Elizabeth followed him as he went to stand by the window, his arms crossed before him as he struggled with his pain.
“I watched mother lose a child between myself and Georgie. I thought we might lose her as well. I cannot have the same fate befall you, Elizabeth.”
She stood quietly behind him and placed a small hand upon his taut shoulder and rubbed gentle circles. “William, I shall not lose this child. I will go to London if it pleases you. I am young and healthy. Do not borrow trouble for us, please, I beg you. Our child shall come safely into this world. Tis the first duty of a mother.”
He turned then, blinking hard against the tears gathered and held Elizabeth tightly. She was his dream come true. A woman strong yet soft enough to hold him, a woman with the sense and wit to make him see reality while taking the sting from it.
He took her gently to the bed and sat with her, his hand upon the small mound that held their child. There could never have been a greater present for Fitzwilliam Darcy and he leaned closer, his eyes lost in hers and kissed his wife tenderly, tentatively, all questions falling away as she pulled him closer.
A light knock upon her door and Elizabeth sighed. She took her husband’s face in hand and whispered sweet promises for when they met again later in this room. She left him and went to the door. Anne was standing in the hallway.
Elizabeth quietly closed the door behind her and gathered her hair in her hands, self-conscious for a moment before mumbling something about a nap.
Anne brightened as she saw the dark mass of curls escape her friend’s hands and frame her face. “Why Lizzy, you seem positively radiant. Is there a babe for my cousin?”
Elizabeth tried to conceal the truth but her mirth gave her away. “You must not tell your aunt. I am afraid for her to know so soon. Promise?”
Anne swore her pledge to keep the secret and begged her friend to understand why she must go to Rosings. “Lizzy, I know my plans are not the ones you would have for me. But I promise, I shall write to you every day, especially now,” she said as she noticed Elizabeth’s middle, “I would not have you worried while you carry our newest family member.”
Elizabeth took Anne’s hand and held it warmly in her own. “There is little doubt I would prefer your presence at Pemberley, we have grown so close these months. But,” here Elizabeth became quite serious, “you must choose the path to follow and I must see you down that path. I was wrong to run away and cause you a moment’s worry. But yes, you must write to us. Never think you are without my help.”
Anne hugged Elizabeth tightly and kissed her cheek. “I promise. And I shall be back before the babe is born.”
She took Elizabeth’s hand and led her back down the hall to her own rooms. “You must see the evidence of my vow.”
Anne opened the door and smiled brightly as Elizabeth entered. The wedding dress awaited the bride’s return.
Elizabeth and Anne linked arms before leaving the room to walk the long hallway past Lady Anne’s sitting room. Anne halted and glanced through the open door. Her aunt was reading by the fireplace and so she and Elizabeth continued on their way.
“Shall we walk in the gardens, Lizzy? I believe a good turn about the grounds would serve us well after such a trying morning.”
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes brig
ht from too many tears. “Yes, we must. And we can talk of your wedding.”
Anne smiled, a confident, happy smile that Elizabeth cherished upon her pale features. She furrowed a brow worried her friend might lose all she had gained whilst at Pemberley, but she refused to begin the discussion again. It was pain enough to think of Anne locked away at Rosings.
Once past the front doors, the two ladies slowed their pace and turned away from the lake much to Elizabeth’s satisfaction. She still would not set foot near its treacherous banks.
“I do hope mother is only feeling poorly and my visit might cheer her. As much as she is wrongheaded and stubborn, I do so love her.”
Elizabeth bit her tongue to keep the words of anger for Lady Catherine locked away, for she loved Anne and would not hurt her for all the world. She forced a smile and turned, confiding in her friend. “There is no greater tonic than the love of family, although lately, I have had quite enough.”
Anne laughed aloud and patted Elizabeth’s hand. “At times, there is as much rejoicing at their departure as at their arrival!”
“All save one,” Elizabeth replied, casting her eyes to the ground before them. She would never be happy to see Anne leave her side.
Anne pulled her along the garden paths, eager to dispel thoughts of their parting. “Do you think the wedding should be held near Georgiana’s garden? I would dearly love to feel her near to me as I pledge my love to Henry.”
Elizabeth brightened at Anne’s thoughtfulness. “I can only imagine such a gesture would please Lady Anne greatly. It is right we should recall Georgiana often and with much fondness, especially during a wedding.”
The two young women continued their walk, planning just where the wedding would be held. Elizabeth knew Lady Anne would keep her mind busy with the preparations. The time without Anne by her side promised to pass quickly.
Chapter 20
At Rosings, a missive arrived later that day whilst Lady Catherine ate dinner with her parson and his new wife, Charlotte Collins nee Lucas. The timid woman was the perfect match for her toady parson. The fact she had once been friends with the Bennet chit who had taken Anne from her side was not to be forgotten.
The butler was loath to interrupt the dinner proceedings but his instructions were clear. News from Pemberley was to be given the moment it arrived. He moved to the dining room and quietly cleared his throat nodding to the letter in his hand.
Lady Catherine abruptly left her seat and snatched the paper from the embarrassed butler. Mr. and Mrs. Collins sat as though nothing was amiss.
Charlotte glanced at her husband, grateful for the protection of Lady Catherine’s dining room. News of her friend Elizabeth’s refusal to marry the man and the gossip of all that had happened since sat solidly at the back of her mind.
She held little doubt the rumors were true, but still she was only hoping for a comfortable life when she put aside the scandal and accepted him. Feelings of affection for a husband were not the concern of a daughter approaching spinsterhood as her mother had oft reminded her.
Her arms and back now bore the marks of a painful existence. Mr. Collins’s idea of affection was vastly different from what Charlotte had ever been led to believe or imagine. Surely his proclivities were foreign to many gentlemen?
She jumped in her seat as Lady Catherine pushed past the butler and quit the dining room. She did not appear angry but rather taken by some odd excitement.
Mr. Collins began ordering the remaining footmen about, happy to assert himself with his patroness out of earshot. “Come, then, have we another roast duck waiting in the kitchen?”
Charlotte smiled meekly as the footman’s face reddened and he hurried from the room. She dared not speak a word of warning nor advice to her husband. Though, if Lady Catherine became angered after the fact, she alone would bear the brunt of her husband’s displeasure. He would blame her for not cautioning him against gluttony.
Lady Catherine paced in her parlor, the parson and his wife forgotten entirely. Anne was coming! She had not believed her plan might work. But the Viscount was accompanying her! There must be a way to dissuade him in his pursuit. She thought for but a moment before her mind settled upon the friend of her nephew. He had a sister in need of a match, a grasping, desperate woman with the scruples of an alley cat, or so she had been told.
She sat and hastily wrote a letter to be delivered to Hurst House in London. Viscount Amestrey would be but a footnote in Anne’s life before she was done.
Pleased with herself, she called for her maid to ready Anne’s rooms for her return and went in search of her butler. The letter must be posted first thing come morning for her plan to unfurl perfectly. The Bingley woman must be a guest at Rosings before Anne arrived with her intended.
Smiling at her own cunning, Lady Catherine retired to her rooms and busied the upstairs maids with the arranging of her sickroom. It would be a terrible bore and bother to playact for Anne but her aim was a worthy one.
In the dining room, Mr. Collins ate greedily and eyed Charlotte. The disaster with his cousin Elizabeth now seemed a stroke of great fortune although he’d had to meet with Mr. Bennet and break the entailment on Longbourn. Mr. Darcy and his cousin, the colonel, had made certain he followed their edict and afterwards he had passed by his cousin’s home to have one last look before returning to Hunsford.
He’d met Charlotte Lucas upon the road near Longbourn and recalled making her acquaintance the night of the ball at Netherfield. She would not meet his gaze at first, but he assured her all was well with Elizabeth and he had graciously broken the entailment in an effort at amends with her family over their failed engagement.
Within a few days, the parson had ingratiated himself to the Lucas family and offered for Charlotte. Believing him to be a reasonable man with a sense of fairness, she accepted not knowing the truth of Elizabeth’s plight at Rosings.
As he watched her across the table, he thought of how his cousin Elizabeth would never have acquiesced to his demands as Charlotte did without fail. She had attempted to correct him once to her own dismay and deep regret.
He remembered the terror in her eyes as he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her down to the sofa. He’d found the quiver of her bottom lip a delight and had taken every opportunity since to goad her into such a confrontation again.
She would not repeat her mistake and so he’d resorted to finding fault with her dress or her management of their small, yet comfortable cottage or any number of insignificant matters. To see the fear in her eyes, to have her uncertain of her every move, pleased him more each day.
Yes, losing Elizabeth Bennet to Mr. Darcy had been for the best, even Lady Catherine agreed. And though she found Charlotte to be a suitable match for him, she treated the parson’s wife in much the same manner as he. Charlotte Lucas Collins became the scapegoat for the women who had escaped Rosings.
Chapter 21
The remaining days before Anne de Bourgh’s departure for Rosings was a torment for Elizabeth Bennet. Try as she might, she could not imagine Anne would make amends with her mother. The added presence of the Bennet family and the strained relationship with her father left Elizabeth frustrated.
There was not a day that passed when Kitty and Lydia did not vex her about a dinner with two particular gentlemen to be followed by an evening of entertainment in the parlor.
One afternoon at tea, Mrs. Bennet fussed at Elizabeth until she relented knowing she would have no peace until an agreement was made.
“Lizzy, would you deny your sisters a chance at happiness as you revel in your own?” Mrs. Bennet asked, flitting her handkerchief about at the grandeur of Pemberley.
Elizabeth knew her mother was told of Mr. Darcy’s edict to Mr. Bennet regarding the still unwed Bennet sisters and she chose to bite her tongue rather than have an argument with the foolish woman. Since the night of the Netherfield Ball, when Mr. Collins had taken her away with her parent’s permission, Elizabeth had not concerned herself with forgiving
either of her parents.
Having acquiesced to her mother’s wishes, Elizabeth stood and winced as Kitty and Lydia crowed with delight. She glanced to Jane and slid her eye to the parlor door whilst their mother carried on with the younger girls over dresses and adornment for the event. Jane rose quietly and followed Elizabeth into the hallway.
“Is there nothing I might offer for the favor of relieving Pemberley of the burden of our family for a week?”
Jane laughed and hugged her sister. “I shall have them follow me home this afternoon, my dear. But only because I love you so.”
Elizabeth’s face brightened and she took Jane’s hand and hurried upstairs to the nursery. “We must visit young Bingley then; I shall miss him during our week apart.”
Later that evening, after dinner and free from the Bennet family, Elizabeth sat in the parlor with Lady Anne and watched as Anne de Bourgh entered and crossed the room. She radiated happiness and the confidence of a woman in love.
Might she blink her eyes and change all that had happened at Rosings, Elizabeth thought she would not. Anne had blossomed under the love and care so abundantly given at Pemberley. And the courtship with Henry would never have come to be had the young woman remained under her mother’s thumb at Rosings. Everything considered, the situations of two young women had changed for the better.
Lady Anne motioned for her niece to sit beside her and began a story that captured the complete attention of her small audience. “Ladies, I would be wrong did I not make known the treachery of my sister before this reunion transpires.”
Elizabeth and Anne glanced to one another but dared not question Lady Anne, their fear and astonishment combining to leave them mute.
“Catty and I were never close, not in the way you are with your sister Elizabeth. I always wished it so, but she was determined to outdo me no matter the circumstance.”
