Mama sent for coffee, a kindness Lady Catherine was too unnerved to refuse.
Mr. Collins, however, was presumptuous enough to bid them good night, asserting that the evening had taxed Her Ladyship … as befit elegant females of her station. And so, Mama’s hospitality was verbosely refused in the utmost display of pompous humility.
The depth of Lady Catherine’s humiliation was evidenced in her willingness to lean against Mr. Collins’ arm, availing herself of her rector’s condescension. He must have been overjoyed.
Miss de Bourgh curtsied hastily, obliged to follow in their wake, though it was obvious she would rather stay. It was enough to make Elizabeth pity her, but not enough for her to dissuade Mr. Collins from taking Her Ladyship away from Longbourn.
A collective sigh rippled through the parlor as their unexpected guests gained the hall.
And a collective gasp echoed off the walls when, from the entrance door, they heard the sound of another knock.
CHAPTER 35
Anne held her breath, along with everyone else standing in the hallway and crowding the door from the front parlor.
“Dear Lord, who is it now?” Mrs. Wickham exclaimed.
Anne would never have expressed herself so … obtrusively … but her own thought had been similar.
The elderly houseman looked at a loss. He could not open the door without delaying their departure, but they could not leave unless he opened the door.
Another knock, more insistent this time.
“Open the door, Hill,” Mr. Bennet instructed.
The houseman did as he was bid, and Anne heard several sucks of breath behind her, followed by several whooshes when they saw the colonel standing at the threshold.
“Richard!” Anne said.
He doffed his hat, clutching it in front of his chest, a wide smile planted on his face. “Anne, just the lady for whom we were searching.”
“We? At this hour?” Anne’s confusion grew when a shadowy figure shuffled behind Richard.
More Bennets filed out to the hall, the Bingleys peeking over their heads from the parlor doorway.
Richard bowed. “I apologize for the late hour, but I stopped at the inn with a friend from London and heard that my aunt and cousin had hastened away to Longbourn with Mr. Collins and an unknown gentleman. The innkeeper was greatly agitated, fearing both for his esteemed lodger and his friends here.”
Mrs. Bennet was as eager to entertain the colonel as Anne’s mother was resolved to leave. Mr. Collins, too, seemed eager to distance himself from his family when he ought to have been rejoicing with them rather than attending to his patroness.
Richard and the stranger in the shadows allowed them to pass, but Anne lingered. “You said you were searching forme?” she asked.
Her cousin stepped aside, and the gentleman behind him moved into the light.
Anne’s heart leapt into her mouth, and tears clouded her vision.
“Come, Anne!” demanded her mother stiffly.
She ought to reply or move or do anything other than stand dumbly in place. But she could not take hereyes off the man standing before her or blink for fear he would disappear.
He was taller than she remembered, not as tall as Darcy but taller than Richard, and handsome. So handsome. His left arm was fixed to his side with a sling matching the color of his coat, and while his collars were high, they did not completely conceal the scars running up his neck to the side of his face. He stood widely, firmly, like a man accustomed to rolling decks and uneven wood planks.
“Patrick,” Anne’s heart whispered. What would he think of her? Embarrassed, she dropped her chin, turning to hide behind her bonnet.
“Anne, come before you catch your death of cold!” Mother said.
She did not feel the chill.
Patrick lifted her chin, swiping his thumb over her cheek when a tear escaped. “Annie,” he said with a tenderness Anne had not heard in years. Not since her father had died and Patrick left to make his name and fortune. Not since he had promised he would return for her. An eternity ago. “I came back for you, Annie.”
