Now that her mother had justified her behavior behind an image of self-righteousness, there was no dissuading her.
Anne crossed the room without a word of dismissal, nervous energy coursing through her limbs, propelling her to run to the post. Such a scene she must have given, curls hanging limp around her face, rushing like a ruffian down the street and barging into the office. Anne cared not.
“Has the”—she gasped for breath—”post coach departed?”
The man standing behind the counter with his pen poised over a ledger regarded her over his spectacles. “I am sorry, Miss, but it left about five minutes ago.”
Anne’s knees buckled under her, but another woman who had been waiting her turn to be attended reached out to catch her. “A chair for the lady!” she shouted. “Hurry!”
Recovering what strength she could summon, Anneleaned against the woman’s arm until she could lean against the back wall by the door she had burst through a moment ago. “Thank you. I am well enough. I apologize for interposing.” As soon as her legs could carry her, she left.
She wanted so desperately to do something, but she had no idea what. She was already too late.
CHAPTER 23
“Mr. Collins, I must insist that you leave Hertfordshire at once.” Darcy crossed his arms, the mere sight of the groveling toad stirring his blood and overwhelming Darcy with the desire to strangle the buffoon.
Richard moved closer, be it to restrain Darcy should he give in to his urges or to assist in his attack, he did not know. He did not really care.
The clergyman bowed, as was his wont. “Is my cousin much improved? I said as much to Lady Catherine when she inquired—”
Flashes of red colored Darcy’s vision. He prayed God witnessed his tremendous restraint and would remember him with favor should his path ever again cross with Mr. Collins in this lifetime. Speaking through clenched teeth, Darcy interrupted, “She is aswell as can be expected after the trauma of her accident and the betrayal of you, sir.”
“Wha—?” Mr. Collins sputtered.
“How dare you crawl at the feet of Lady Catherine when she viciously opposes your own cousin.” He could not call her his aunt any longer. She was as distant to him as a stranger.
“But—”
“Do you deny it? Just as you attempted to set Lady Catherine against Elizabeth when you prattled senselessly that we were engaged, interfering where you had no right and turning her into the target of Lady Catherine’s animosity?”
“Mrs. Collins’ heard word about your engagement in a letter from her family.”
“You would blame your wife and her family for your indiscretion?”
“Lady Catherine inquired directly—”
“And you felt it imperative to answer to her? You are a man of the cloth, Mr. Collins. You would do better to answer to God.”
Mr. Collins had sense enough to clamp his mouth shut.
Darcy, however, was not quite finished. “Did you or did you not agree to spy on Elizabeth for Lady Catherine?” He heard Richard gasp beside him, and when his cousin took another step forward, Darcy was certain where his inclination leaned. He would not hold Darcy back.
“It was hardly my intention—”
“Speak plainly, man,” growled the colonel, his hand at his hip. He did not wear a sword, but the effect was the same.
Mr. Collins squeezed his eyes shut, too cowardly to face them. “Not a spy. A mediator. Like Moses.”
“What did you tell Lady Catherine?” Darcy pressed.
“Only the truth. That Cousin Elizabeth does not yet remember you but appeared in every other way as healthy and sane as she ever was.” He peeked through the slits of his eyes, raising his hand to his throat and sighing as though relieved to find his head still attached.
He ought to be grateful. Not since Ramsgate had Darcy felt so murderous. Only his care for Georgiana had restrained him from calling out George Wickham.
Stabbing his finger into the center of Mr. Collins’ cravat, Darcy said, “If Lady Catherine acts against Elizabeth, if she does anything to distress her, I will hold you as accountable as I will hold Her Ladyship. Your punishment will be swift and thorough.”
Darcy spun away from the clergyman to the horses and galloped off as soon as his seat hit the saddle, needing distance from that despicable excuse of a relative and determining to foot the cost of breaking the entailment on Longbourn to sever all ties between the Bennets and that deferential sycophant. It must be done. If there was a way — and in archaic legal matters, there always was — he would find it.
