“Mama,” she began loudly. “Mama. This is Mr. William Fitzroy.” She grasped the old woman’s hand and gave her a little tug to gain her attention.
Lady Catherine’s vacant eyes turned in his direction and stared through him until… “Darcy.”
Does she recognize me?
“What?” Anne asked. “No, Mama. It is Mr. Fitzroy.”
“Darcy,” his aunt repeated.
Anne shook her head and indicated to the nurse sitting next to her mother. “Mrs. Abernathy, please remove my mother to her room. She needs rest.”
“Darcy, you must help. You must make it right.”
“Mr. Fitzroy,” Anne said, stepping before him. “Please excuse my mother. She is unwell.”
“No apology is needed. I understand full well.” He touched his temple and smiled, attempting to reconcile his aunt’s calling him by his true name.
He heard some grumbling behind him and turned to see Wickham still chastising Georgiana at the piano, her head lowered.
Anne resumed her chair to be fawned over by Mr. Collins. Elizabeth returned to sit beside him.
“Is she always like that?” he asked, indicating the retreating Lady Catherine with her nurse.
“She does have moments of lucidity. It depends on how much medicine is needed to control her pain. In the day, she is much as I believe she always was. But at night, her dosage is increased to help her sleep.”
“Her pain?”
“Yes,” Miss Elizabeth said. “From what Mr. Collins has told my sister, she began suffering from ailments a year or so ago. Miss de Bourgh is very attentive to her mother’s needs.”
“She is to be commended for her care.” He observed Mr. Collins awkwardly bowing to Annewhile sitting, and Jane’s stoic expression. “How long has your sister been wed to Mr. Collins?”
Elizabeth sniffed before replying. “It has been five months. Our cousin is to inherit our father’s estate and he came to Longbourn in September. He immediately asked for Jane’s hand, and they were married two months later.”
“They seem to be very different personalities.”
She bristled. “My sister would make anyman a good wife.”
“You mistake my meaning, Miss Bennet. It is only…Mrs. Collins’s virtues seem wasted on the quiet life of Hunsford.”
Elizabeth smirked. “That is what my father said, and my mother always believed her beauty, well… Still, when there are so few opportunities for women to meet eligible men, we are…well…we must take other paths to find happiness.”
“I would thinkyouwould not choose to marry for anything but love.”
She looked at him askance.
“Forgive me. I have spoken out of turn,” he said.Stupid man! Do not claim such familiarity.
Elizabeth was quiet as they both listened to another tune taken up by Mrs. Wickham at the insistence of her husband.
She leaned toward him. “You are correct.” Then the butler announced dinner, and they rose. Darcy extended his arm, and she rested a delicately gloved hand upon it. “Nevertheless, I do not believe I will ever have the opportunity to choose.” A small smile graced her lips, and Darcy’s heart fell, remembering her words only days before in a different life.
Day 3
The bones of the old house creaked and groaned in the wind as the moon peeked defiantly through the clouds to bathe the kitchen in a peaceful glow. Yet, the serenity could do nothing for his thoughts. Darcy’s mind was unsettled. As the master of Pemberley for the last five years, he was not used tothislife. He was frustrated with his current situation, and with Clarence for not telling him all he wished to know.
He had wandered through the house seeking to distance himself from the events of the evening but was trapped by the four walls and the lateness of the hour. So, he fell back into old habits—procuring himself a cup of tea and a biscuit from the larder. As the master of one of the greatest estates in England, and as the elder brother to a young girl, he often found himself alone at night drinking tea. He now chuckled at the memory of his cook, Mrs. Rogers, when he asked her to teach him to steep tea.I could not expect a servant to wake and brew me a cup every time my mind was unsettled.And although the location and circumstances had changed, his mind wasstilltroubled.
Dinner at Rosings had been grueling. The control and discipline he had learned at his father’s knee had served two purposes: to keep the grief of discovering his cousin’s unexpected death at bay and to not shout at Wickham to unhand his sister. With Anne, he was puzzled at her overbearing behavior and wanted to shake his cousin, force her to come to her senses.
