by Leenie Brown
“She is an heiress.” Georgiana cocked her head to the side and fluttered her lashes at her cousin.
“I am not going to marry Anne,” Richard said with a laugh. “I would prefer a heartier sort of wife.” He held out his arm to her. “Shall we go call for some tea?”
“We absolutely must,” she said as she took his arm. “Are you going to marry Anne, Brother?”
“You know I am not,” Darcy replied as he followed them to the blue sitting room.
“And have you told Aunt Catherine?”
“No, I have not.”
“You should.”
“Yes, Darcy, you should,” Richard said with a smirk.
Darcy shook his head. “You are both incorrigible — which I must tolerate from Richard but would rather not see in you, Georgiana.” He was actually glad to see her smiling and teasing. She had spent so many months brooding over her near ruin and mending her broken heart that to have her tease, even if it bordered on being entirely too impertinent, was encouraging. He winked at her and received a smile in return.
“Once you tell Aunt Catherine, do you think she will allow Anne to come to town for a season?” Georgiana took a seat in what Darcy knew to be her favourite chair — the blue one near the window that overlooked the street.
“It would be Anne’s best chance to find a husband,” Richard answered, “but I am uncertain her health could endure a season.”
Georgiana bit her lip. Darcy knew that look well.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“We should find her a husband.”
Richard guffawed. “How do you intend to do this?”
Georgiana shrugged. “I do not know. I only wish Anne were not so lonely.”
Darcy squeezed her shoulder. “You have a good heart, but I would prefer you not play at matchmaking for our cousin.”
She sighed. It was a deeply sorrowful sound as if being denied a great adventure.
He smiled at her. “Tell me what you have been doing in my absence.”
“And then will you tell me what Richard is not to breathe a word of?” she asked, as he removed his jacket before taking a seat.
“No.” Darcy gave both her and Richard a stern look.
“Very well.” Again, she sighed that deep sorrowful sigh, but a small smile touched her lips as she began to tell her brother and cousin all she had done in town while they were in Kent.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth plucked a wildflower that grew along the path on which she walked. The sun was warm this morning, and the sky was nearly without a cloud. The ribbons of her bonnet fluttered ever so slightly in the breeze. All in all, it was a glorious morning — even if she had been required to endure her cousin’s excessively long dissertation on what a privilege it had been for Elizabeth to visit Kent and, most especially, Rosings and the illustrious Lady Catherine.
Elizabeth’s lips curled upwards as she remembered how her cousin had pressed upon both her and Maria, Mrs. Collins’s sister, that one could not speak too highly of a patroness such as Lady Catherine. Indeed, one must not forget to mention her and her condescension to one and all when one returned to her home. Maria had nodded her head, very seriously considering all her brother-in-law’s instructions and occasionally adding her own exclamation of delight of this or that thing about Rosings, which pleased Mr. Collins excessively. It also pleased Elizabeth, since it would mean the glory of all things Lady Catherine would be known to the neighborhood before Jane and Elizabeth returned. Therefore, Elizabeth would only have to answer questions about her visit.
She twirled the flower in her hand and bit her lip. She would also have to answer questions regarding the gentleman who called on her in town. Oh, she wished she had not been so open in her censure of Mr. Darcy. It would make it easier to reverse her opinion. But as it was, she found herself in a very difficult place. Even Aunt Gardiner had heard her condemnation of that gentleman.
She blew out a breath. It would be rather awkward to explain to her aunt and uncle, as well as Jane, that she wished to get to know Mr. Darcy now that she had the beginnings of a new understanding of him.
Once again, she replayed in her mind the events of his call at the parsonage — how he had approached her at first with such practised words, his damning explanation of his struggles, and then his anger and hurt at her response. She once again grimaced at the way in which she allowed herself to speak so freely and, worse, so spitefully.
She stopped and turned to look out at the vista of rolling hills. How he had been able to respond to her with anything less than hatred when she had called him back still amazed her. She knew if it had been she who had been treated as she treated him, she would not have done more than pretend a smile and accept her apology before hastening out the door.
She had spent the past week contemplating his graciousness in extending her another chance to decipher his character and learn about him — a man about whom she had apparently been entirely wrong. She touched the letter in her pocket. She likely should not have accepted it, but Mr. Darcy had been so insistent that she did on that morning when he took his leave of the parsonage.
“It seemed easier to do Mr. Wickham justice in writing than in speaking. You will find all my dealings with him in this account,” he had said. “I wish for you to know exactly what his character is like.”
“So that I might find yours better?” she had teased uneasily.
She sighed now, remembering the smile that touched his lips and the sparkle in his eye as he had replied, “I will not lie. I do hope it helps me in my quest.”
If he had shown one morsel of that lighter side of his personality when he was in Hertfordshire, she was certain she never would have thought him capable of the things Mr. Wickham had claimed. Her shoulders rose high as she drew in a deep breath and then slowly lowered them as she released it. It was not true. If Mr. Darcy had been lighter in his tone, she would have likely thought he was ridiculing her. She had been so determined to dislike him. He had attempted levity a time or two when she was at Netherfield, and she had excused it away as arrogance and superiority.
A small flutter of eagerness had settled in her stomach this morning when she had awoken. One more day and she would be in town where she might see him again.
“Miss Bennet!”
Elizabeth turned toward the lane as Miss de Bourgh drew near in her phaeton.
“You must join me.”
The ease and liveliness of Miss de Bourgh’s tone and features startled Elizabeth. Until this moment, Miss de Bourgh had always looked serious and aloof, but presently, she seemed neither of those things.
“I am an excellent driver,” Miss de Bourgh continued. She drew her horses to a stop beside Elizabeth. “Please, I have wished for an opportunity to speak with you, but between my mother and your cousin, I have not found a moment to do so. Please join me.”
There seemed no way of objecting without offending, and so, Elizabeth accepted and climbed into the carriage.
“Have you ever driven?”
“No, never.”
“Oh, my dear Miss Bennet, you must learn! It is the absolute best thing in the world to be trotting down the lane on your own — no maid, no footman, no mother.” She winked, shocking Elizabeth. “It is here that I am allowed to be me — just me.” She sighed. “You must understand the feeling. What with so many sisters and all.” She glanced at Elizabeth expectantly.
“Oh, I do,” Elizabeth agreed. “That is one reason I am so fond of walking.”
“I knew it!” Miss de Bourgh cried with a great deal of delight. “I should like to take a great many rambling walks just for the solidarity of them, but my health will not allow it. And so, I must find my pleasure in my phaeton.”
Elizabeth stole a sidelong glance at the lady beside her. This was not the Miss de Bourgh she had come to know.
“Do not worry, Miss Bennet — might I call you Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Good.” A smile spli
t Miss de Bourgh’s face. “And you must call me Anne. I think we will be good friends.” She turned her attention back to her well-trained horses.
Elizabeth suspected the creatures could traverse this road in the black of night and without a single command from their mistress.
“As I was saying, I have not lost my senses. I know I am usually quiet in company, but you have met my mother. Can you blame me for holding my tongue to avoid a lecture?”
Elizabeth joined her in a laugh. “Mothers can be a source of great distress for their daughters, can they not?”
“Oh, indeed!” Anne agreed. “And my mother will expect me to return in thirty minutes time and if I have not, she will send out half the household in search of me.”
Elizabeth considered how trying it must be to have a mother who was so vigilant. Lady Catherine was nearly the opposite of Elizabeth’s own mother. Mrs. Bennet was only attentive when it came to daughters whom she knew would marry well. Therefore, she had never been overly concerned with Elizabeth. Since Elizabeth had refused Mr. Collins’s offer of marriage, Mrs. Bennet was even more certain that her second daughter would never marry.
“I have sought you out on purpose,” Anne said in a hushed tone as if the trees near them might hear her and tell tales. “I have sent a letter to my cousin Mr. Darcy and asked him to call on you, and when he does, you must make him love you.”
The horses’ feet rose and fell four times before Elizabeth could find her voice, and as it was, all her mind was able to do was form a question. “I beg your pardon?”
Anne, who had watched Elizabeth’s surprise with keen interest and obvious amusement, smiled broadly and repeated herself. “You must make my cousin fall in love with you, although I dare say it shall not be hard work. He seemed to pay an extraordinary amount of attention to you. I had half hoped he would declare his unwillingness to marry me on this visit, but he did not.” She sighed. “It is a pity he did not. What a stir it would have caused!”
The excitement in Anne’s voice reminded Elizabeth for a moment of her youngest sister, Lydia.
“You do not wish for him to marry you? I had heard you were betrothed,” Elizabeth said cautiously.
She had assumed that bit of Mr. Wickham’s tale had been untrue since Mr. Darcy had offered her marriage not even a week ago, but she had still intended to ask Mr. Darcy about it when she saw him in town, just to be certain. Apparently, she would not need to bother if Anne was, so to speak, tossing the gentleman at Elizabeth’s feet.
“Oh dear, no! Darcy is so stodgy, so proper. I long to be free of the overbearing, not tie myself to it forever.”
“Overbearing?” The word leapt from Elizabeth’s lips. She had never once thought Mr. Darcy to be overbearing. Dull, perhaps. Arrogant, most assuredly. But not imperious. She paused. He had, however, been rather high-handed in his dealing with Mr. Bingley and Jane, so maybe it was possible that he could be overbearing? The idea was rather shocking.
Anne’s eyes grew wide as she realized what she had said. “No, no, I do not think my cousin would be some sort of tyrant. It is just that he likes ceremony and schedules and rules.” She shuddered at the word. “For all my life my mother has ordered me about and hired people to watch me. I am not sick nearly as often as she thinks I am sick. Oh, it is impossible to explain.”
“Is it that your mother is demanding, and because your cousin is as serious and proper as your mother, you fear he will also be demanding?” Elizabeth asked it calmly, but her heart skittered and thudded at the thought. She did not wish for a demanding husband either.
Anne drew the horses to a stop on the side of the road and turned to face Elizabeth.
“Darcy is all that is kind. Truly he is, but he lacks…” Anne tapped her finger on her lip as she thought. “Humour — he lacks humour. He rarely smiles and never teases. He is serious to a fault.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I have seen him smile and even tease once or twice. I do not believe him to be without any humour at all. I will allow that he is rather grave, but might he not have reason?” She clamped her mouth shut. Why was she defending Mr. Darcy to his cousin? Was she attempting to persuade Anne to reconsider and marry the man?
“What reasons might he have for being so dour?”
Elizabeth thought for a moment. She did not really wish to justify Mr. Darcy’s actions and risk Anne deciding that her cousin was whom she wanted to marry. However, she had begun the discussion and to end it abruptly would be rude.
“Where have you been in company with your cousin?” she finally asked.
“Why at Rosings, of course. Mother declared Pemberley too far for me to travel, so we always saw him here, save when his mother was ill at first and could still travel. Then we ventured to town when she had come to London to see various physicians.”
“Then you have never seen him outside of your mother’s influence?” Elizabeth remembered how ill-at-ease Darcy had appeared at the assembly in Meryton and again when Mrs. Bennet had called at Netherfield. She had assumed it was merely his haughty disdain for the people of Meryton, in general, and her family, in particular, that had caused him to behave so, but now, considering it in a new light, it might have just been an uncertainty of how to act and a wish to be proper.
“Could he not feel as intensely as you the strictures of your mother? Would that not make him less lively?”
Anne shrugged. “I will grant it might, but I should wish for a husband that will behave in a lively fashion no matter if my mother is present or not. I should fear that my cousin would wish to keep my mother too well-pleased, and in order for him to do so, my activities would be as curtailed as they are now. Do you know what it is like to be forbidden to wander the groves? Or to be allowed to dance only two sets with your instructor and never attend a ball because it might fatigue you? ” She pinched her lips together tightly, her brows drawing together. “I wish to be fatigued. I wish to walk until I am tired and dance until I can no longer stand.”
“And you fear your cousin would not allow such things?”
Anne nodded her head. “He will not treat you so because you are not sickly.”
“I think any husband would care if his wife was risking her health,” Elizabeth countered.
“Yes,” Anne answered softly. “But I do not want him. He does not make my heart flutter. I do not feel any great joy when he arrives for a visit or sorrow when he leaves aside from missing the diversion that company brings.” She grasped Elizabeth’s hands. “Please, you must love him. He is handsome and rich as well as gentle and kind. He has always treated me with respect. But I cannot marry him.”
“There is no betrothal to be broken?”
The flowers on Anne’s bonnet fluttered as she shook her head. “He has never asked, and I would never accept.”
Strangely, Elizabeth’s heart rejoiced at Anne’s reply. “If he calls on me, I will not turn him away. I cannot promise any further than that, for I, too, would wish for a husband that stirs my heart.” To Elizabeth’s surprise, she found herself wrapped in Anne’s arms.
“Oh, you shall suit. I am certain of it. And then I shall be free to smile at Mr. Pratt when he accompanies his mother to visit my mother.” She released Elizabeth and called to her horses to walk on. “She is Lady Metcalfe — the one who needed a governess and my mother recommended Miss Pope, Mrs. Jenkinson’s niece. Do you remember?” She waited for only a moment, just long enough for Elizabeth to say yes, and then began describing in some detail the relationship between Lady Catherine and Lady Metcalfe, which in turn became a discussion of what it must be like to have a come out.
Elizabeth returned to the parsonage with weary ears and a very different view of the not so sickly or cross Miss de Bourgh and a slightly better understanding of Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 5
“For you, sir,” Mr. Kinney deposited a few envelopes in the tray on Darcy’s desk.
“Thank you,” Darcy said, glancing up from his account book. His brows furrowed as he saw the
address on the top letter. Putting down his pencil, he picked up the curious missive. Why would Anne be writing to him? Hopefully, it was not some scheme of his aunt’s to press the matter of his marrying her daughter. She had been more insistent than normal on this trip that the happy event was not far off. It made sense, he supposed, seeing how Anne would be twenty in a month — the same age both his mother and Lady Catherine had been when they married their husbands.
He broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
Dearest Cousin,
His brows rose. Anne never referred to him as dearest anything.
As you know, I will be celebrating a very particular birthday next month, and I would request…
Darcy groaned. It appeared this was exactly what he feared.
that you spend this month securing a bride and doing so with all haste. If you are married before my birthday, I should be very grateful.
Darcy blinked and reread the letter from the beginning. No, he had not missed any words. Anne had just asked him to marry someone other than herself and to do it in quick order. He shook his head and continued on.
I do not wish to injure your male sensibilities in any fashion, but I must be direct. I believe on the subject of our marriage, we are of one accord, for I do not wish to marry you, and I am certain that you do not wish to marry me. We would not suit. You are far too serious for a lady such as myself, and I do not think myself equal to the challenges of the cold in Derbyshire or the air in town. One or the other I might be able to endure, but to face both would be far too taxing.
Too serious for Anne? The girl who cowered in the corner and never smiled? He shook his head again. This letter was befuddling and perhaps the longest single exchange of words he had ever received from his cousin.
To help you in your quest to grant me my birthday wish, I would advise you to call directly on Miss Bennet. She is a lovely lady, full of vitality and of a hardy stock. She should weather well both your dour temperament and the conditions of Derbyshire and town. In addition to this, I believe you would suit eminently well, and I do believe you favour her.
