by Meg Osborne
“Is that so?” Darcy’s eyebrow arched rakishly, and Elizabeth laughed.
“You would not be so wicked as to force me to confront my fears!”
“No, indeed, I would not,” Darcy said, contritely. He walked a moment or two in silence, speeding up so that Lizzy was forced almost to run to keep pace with him. His last word was a breath on the wind so that she could be entirely sure she heard it. “Yet.”
ANNE’S ARRIVAL IN LONDON came far sooner than either Darcy or Elizabeth might have hoped for, and just a few days later she was sitting in the parlour taking tea and chatting with the new Mrs Darcy, as if she had always been there.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Darcy said, pleased and happy to see the friendly way his wife and cousin had greeted one another, and feeling certain that his decision to invite Anne had been a good one.
“It is I who ought to thank you, for the invitation,” she replied. “I can only apologise that my mother remains pitched against your happiness.” She smiled, grimly. “I am hopeful that with time she will relent her opposition. It does not seem to matter how energetically I deny any romantic connection between us, William, and emphatically reassure her that my heart is not broken, she still sees it as a dreadful snub.” She shook her head. “I despair of trying to convince her otherwise, and so am grateful that you have offered me an escape, however brief, from the eternal dominion of her disappointment.”
Darcy felt a flicker of concern for his aunt, for, whilst he did not care for her interference he did not wish to hear of her being brought low by his actions. He was reassured almost immediately by Anne, who turned to Elizabeth and began to engage her once more in conversation.
“I am sure you can sympathise, Elizabeth, for mothers can be a trial even to the most strong-willed of us, and I confess I am not as brave as you in defying those who seek to tyrannise over me.”
“You speak as if I had slain a dragon!” Elizabeth laughed. “When the truth is far more mundane. No, indeed, Mama was quite content to hear of me marrying Mr Darcy, and readily surrendered Mr Collins and Hunsford for Mr Darcy and Pemberley.” She met Darcy’s eyes with a wicked smile. “She quite dotes on you now, does she not?”
He grimaced, enduring the laughter of both young women, and recalled how tightly Mrs Bennet had gripped hold of his arm at the wedding, and bid him listen to her rhapsodise about some inconsequential matter about which he professed no personal opinion.
Still, I would rather an affectionate mother-in-law than one drawn up in opposition, he thought, thinking of poor Anne’s fate. It would ease her suffering to have her stay with them, for he felt certain that his aunt would be so entranced to hear the news from London upon her daughter’s return that her anger at Darcy’s impetuous marriage would be overlooked, at least a little.
“What plans do you have, while you are here, cousin?” he asked, sensing a lull in the conversation. “You will wish to visit Mary and Richard, no doubt, and see Philip and Louisa while you are there. Have you any other acquaintances in London with which you wish to spend time?”
“One or two,” Anne said, in a low voice. “Although, of course, my chief objective is in spending time with my new cousin.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “Perhaps we might take advantage of our location, too, and visit a museum, or hear some music. I have spent so long in the country I am actually eager for a little excitement.”
This confession surprised Darcy, for he recalled Anne’s nature as being sanguine and calm, little interested in the hustle and bustle of fashionable London. He tilted his head, regarding her carefully, but she looked the same as she ever had. He took her comment as it was intended, then, a natural enjoyment of all that was different about London from her usual habitation in Kent.
“If music is your desire, I might suggest a visit to the Royal Academy. They have a famous harpist in residence, and I believe the programme will be to your liking.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Perhaps Mary might be interested to hear it as well, and we might take a party.”
His suggestion was met with enthusiasm, so he did not speak aloud the rest of his thought: that whilst Mary might be eager to listen to music, her husband would doubtlessly be more reluctant. Still, Richard, now you are married you must accept your fate. It cannot be all adventure! For his own part, he would prefer listening to a concert than attending an assembly, and was glad that his companions were not so eager to be amongst society that they would force him into it when he did not choose.
“We must discover what is playing when, so that we might choose the most opportune evening,” Anne said. “You are so kind to suggest it, cousin. And, Elizabeth, are you managing to walk, despite being so far from the countryside?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, with a laugh. “I walk with regularity even if I may not roam quite as I am used to. The parks here are so pleasant, and lively.”
“And filled with friends,” Darcy said, recounting the tale of their meeting with Charles Bingley and his sister a day or two previously.
“I did not realise they had come to London as well!” Anne said. “Why, it seems everybody is here. How sad your sister Jane could not be persuaded to stay.” Anne frowned. “And how strange, for I rather fancied, from the way you spoke of them, that she and Mr Bingley had formed an attachment with one another.”
“No,” Lizzy said, sharply. “I thought as much, but it appears we were mistaken. Mr Bingley has no feeling for my sister, and poor Jane is far happier at home than constantly being reminded of the fact.”
There was an awkward moment of silence, and Darcy cleared his throat, eager to return to happier topics, but before he could think of something to say, Anne’s voice broke the quiet.
“What a muddle people’s hearts are!” She sighed. “How glad I am that both of my cousins have been so fortunate in their affections. Now, Elizabeth, tell me more about your wedding, for I wish to know everything in detail, so that I might imagine I had been there and seen it myself, instead of trapped at home with only my piano for company!”
Chapter Nine
The evening at the Royal Academy came around quickly, and after a couple of quiet days, allowing Anne time to recover from her trip and slowly acclimatise to life in London, both young ladies were eager for some entertainment. Darcy, too, was looking forward to the evening out, although this was rather a new experience for him. Generally, in London, he relished the opportunity to remain at home, yet here he was not only responsible for suggesting the outing, he was entirely predisposed to enjoy himself, reuniting with Colonel Fitzwilliam and taking the opportunity to be seen amidst his contemporaries with his new wife on his arm.
The Academy was busy, but not uncomfortably so. Where on previous occasions, Darcy might have felt stifled by the press of bodies, and the stuffy heat, this evening, he found himself enjoying the shadows cast by the candlelight, smiling and nodding in greeting to people he recognised and knew, by sight or reputation.
“Jolly good idea of yours, Darcy,” Richard remarked, coughing noisily into his handkerchief, and grimacing.
“Are you suffering?” Darcy asked, feeling a sudden flare of anxiety at the unhealthy rattle in his cousin’s breath.
“Just a cold,” Richard said, with a good-natured shrug. “I suppose I was not so entirely recovered as I’d assumed. It shan’t hold me back, and I assure you I’m more than content to be away from the house.”
“Is Philip so difficult to live with?”
“Yes and no.” Richard smiled, grimly. “It is rather like living with a stranger, only one who shares your name and feels he has some right to share his opinions with you on every matter of your life, whether you wish to hear them or not.” He sighed. “At least Mary has won over Louisa, and so she fares rather better in the familial interrogation.”
Darcy clapped his cousin on the shoulder.
“You’ll not have to bear it so very much longer. Can you not find some excuse to spend Christmas elsewhere? Perhaps a visit back to Hertfordshire? I do not doubt M
r and Mrs Bennet would be pleased to host you for the season.”
“The thought had occurred to me!” Richard admitted, with a toothy grin. “Alas they will already be housing the Gardiners, and I do not like to add to their burden. Also, I am not entirely convinced that trading one branch of inquisition for another will fully allow me the break I wish.” He drew a breath. “No, I shall bear with my brother and learn to emulate my cousin’s stoicism.” He lifted his chin, allowing his brow to settle into a frown reminiscent of Darcy’s own. “Is this how one does it?” He lifted his lip in a sneer, and Darcy laughed to see himself so accurately portrayed.
“You are fortunate I am in so beneficent a mood, cousin, that I can let such idle mockery slide.”
“Yes, I must acknowledge that marriage has softened you for the better.” Richard turned to look a few paces ahead, where Mary had hurried to greet Elizabeth and Anne, and the three ladies now stood with their heads bent close together, whispering over some delicious secret like old friends.
“And it is pleasant to have Anne amongst us once more.”
“Yes, thank God she allowed herself to be rescued from Kent. I imagine Aunt Catherine still despairs over your eternal soul, being joined to Elizabeth’s into the hereafter instead of remaining firmly chained to the family?”
If she does, she has kept her feelings to herself,” Darcy said, with a shrug. “I do not doubt she will relent, in time.”
“When next she wants something,” Richard put in.
“Indeed.”
There was a move towards the doorway, and the crowd began to file into the room, taking their seats so that they might see - and be seen near - the harpist and the small orchestra that accompanied her.
“Shall we go in?” Darcy asked, as the ladies returned to them.
“Eliza! Mary!” A grating feminine voice broke through the muffled conversations surrounding them, causing Darcy to stiffen. He recognised it immediately and had scarcely managed to rearrange his answering grimace into a polite smile when Caroline Bingley bore down upon the group, embracing first Elizabeth and then Mary enthusiastically, as if they were long-separated friends. “And goodness me, Mr Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam! Fancy seeing you here.”
“Fancy.” Richard beamed at her, mirroring her own enthusiasm with his trademark hint of mockery. “Are you alone, Miss Bingley? Surely you have not sought to attend the evening unescorted?”
“No, indeed!” Caroline shook her head. “Charles is with me...Charles!” she barked, and her brother hurried to join them.
“Darcy! Well, I am glad to see you here! And Colonel Fitzwilliam, what a pleasant turn of events.” Bingley jovially greeted all present, and Darcy noticed he was welcomed with rather more genuine warmth than his sister, who continued to pointedly glance towards Anne. At length, she cleared her throat.
“Will you not introduce us, Mr Darcy?”
With a grudging acknowledgement, Darcy bowed his head and addressed his friends.
“This is my cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. Anne, these are some friends of ours, Mr Charles and Miss Caroline Bingley. I do not recall if you have met before?”
“We have not,” Anne smiled, warmly at Charles, and rather less so at his sister. “Although I have been rather acquainted with you by reputation. You have been in Hertfordshire of late, if I recall correctly?”
This was the perfect question, for it prompted Charles to respond with enthusiasm, and he launched into a happy description of Netherfield and its surroundings, praising not only the environment of Hertfordshire but extolling the virtues of their neighbours, including but not limited to the very pair of sisters that were with them at present. Caroline tolerated this as long as she must, before interrupting with an extravagant sigh.
“We ought not to delay too much longer, Charles, for we must hurry if we wish to all sit together.”
This was uttered as a point of fact, and could not easily be disputed, so instead, Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth, falling into place behind their friends. Through some manoeuvring on her part, Caroline succeeded in somehow seating herself between Anne and her brother, and Darcy shot an amused glance at Elizabeth, wondering if Miss Bingley’s engineering was as apparent to his wife as it was to him. Elizabeth’s expression was less than amused, as she regarded Charles Bingley with something approaching disapproval. Had she still not forgiven him for his untimely departure from Hertfordshire? Darcy swallowed his own amusement, feeling certain that Elizabeth’s anger was not something that ought to be mocked. No, the situation must be rectified, and Charles taken to task for his actions. He did not doubt his friend had not intended any hurt, and, if made aware of the pain his actions had caused would seek to undo them. Surely it would not take much.
WHEN THE LAST NOTE had finished reverberating around the elegant hall, the audience erupted into polite applause.
“Wasn’t it beautiful?” Mary breathed, her eyes bright.
Elizabeth laughed, to see her sister so enthralled.
“Will you be wanting to learn the harp, now?” she asked, meeting Colonel Fitzwilliam’s gaze over her sister’s shoulders and raising her eyebrows. “Beware, Colonel Fitzwilliam, we have possibly thrown open the door to another new hobby for my sister to seek to pursue.”
“Is a piano no longer enough, my dear?” he asked, pursing his lips. “A harp too? Well if you wish it, of course we may purchase it, only...” He lowered his voice and grinned at the two ladies. “Perhaps we ought to see about securing a house, first?”
The three burst into laughter, which caught Darcy's interest and won for them a snide glance from Caroline, and a whisper she directed towards Anne which Elizabeth felt certain concerned their countrified behaviour.
“I am surprised that Mr and Miss Bingley are here,” Mary said, in a low voice. “How is Jane?”
“Broken-hearted,” Lizzy said, grimly. “Although I certainly do not think Mr Bingley deserves her tears. Any man who could so easily abandon a lady he claimed to love...” she did not finish her thought, merely pulled her lips into a tight grimace which indicated her displeasure quite appropriately without the need of words.
“I felt certain he cared for her,” Mary said, glancing over at their friends. “Indeed, he hardly seems happy to be in London.”
Elizabeth peered over, hoping to see what her sister noticed. Gone was the perpetual grin Mr Bingley had worn upon their associations in Hertfordshire. Indeed, his complexion was altogether paler, his lips turning down, and his eyes seemed habitually to stare ahead as if he were not entirely paying attention to where he was, preferring to retreat inward and nurse his thoughts. He looks, Elizabeth realised with a jolt, as if he is the one who has been spurned! Yet how could that be true? Jane admitted that she had waited only for Mr Bingley to speak, and had made her feelings quite as clear as she dared. She had felt certain that they were cherished, returned even. Yet, instead of speaking, Mr Bingley had vanished, without so much as a farewell.
“You must call on us while you are in London, Miss de Bourgh,” Caroline said, her voice loud enough to penetrate the group that Elizabeth was part of. “I would very much like to see you, and know my brother would also welcome your visit, is that not so, Charles?”
Mr Bingley did not respond. Indeed, it struck Elizabeth, from her brief glances towards them, that he was not even aware that his sister had spoken.
“Charles,” Caroline hissed. He straightened at the sharp tone and turned a vague smile towards the two ladies.
“Oh - er, yes,” he stammered, forcing a smile that was polite if not half as enthusiastic as those he had worn in Meryton or at Netherfield. “Whatever you wish, sister.”
Caroline’s eyebrows knit into a dark line, but when she turned back to Anne, her features were implacable once more.
“You see? We would both very much like to see you. Do come. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?”
“So soon?” Anne asked, her patient voice a little tried by the effort of facing Caroline Bingley’s enthusi
astic quest for friendship, for it was apparent to Elizabeth, if nobody else, that this was Caroline’s chief design. To win Anne de Bourgh’s friendship, and perhaps be elevated, by so doing, into the higher echelons of London society that she so wished to reach. Yet Anne was not a widely sociable creature. Elizabeth felt a malicious amusement at how Caroline’s plan was hardly destined for success. She might win herself a friend - and Anne would be a good friend and a kind one - but if she was seeking introductions or social capital from the relationship, then she would be sorely disappointed.
“Is it ever too soon for new friends to spend time together?” Caroline said, at last, following her words with a silly little laugh to indicate they were an attempt at humour. “But, you are right, I am sure there are a great many people you must visit whilst you are in town.” This was a calculated comment, Elizabeth felt certain, and it won the response she had clearly gambled on.
“Well, I do not see why I might not spare a quarter hour or more to call on such kind acquaintances as you and your brother, Miss Bingley. Please, do me the honour of telling me your address.” She fixed her friend with attention, intending on committing the details to memory, but Caroline reached into her reticule and pulled out a card from a selection that she must have taken to carrying with her.
“Here,” she said, passing the notecard to Anne with a flourish. “We shall be in all afternoon, and you will be very welcome indeed, will she not, Charles?”
“Indeed,” Charles said, nodding fervently, although it was apparent he had heard only the vaguest details of the conversation and agreed only because it was expected of him.
When Elizabeth wrenched her attention back to her companions, she noticed Colonel Fitzwilliam holding a handkerchief to his lips, and Mary watching him carefully with concern etched into her features.
