“I can understand that.” Although I did not doubt Mama loved all her daughters, she favoured some over the others. In the past, Mary and I ranked well behind our other sisters for her approval.
My father had the foresight to refrain from any mention of Lydia or her husband, Mr. Wickham, in present company. In his latest letter, though, Papa had lamented that Mama continued to send most of her pin money to Lydia. However, he had admitted to finding amusement in the situation: Lydia’s letters had become so inventive with her purported excuses for needing funds that he anticipated each new missive with no little eagerness.
The amiable discourse at the table ebbed to a halt when Lady Catherine and Lady Rebecca entered the breakfast-parlour. Fitzwilliam performed the necessary introductions.
An unmistakable shift in the collective mood at the table accompanied the two newcomers—the light-hearted, familiar conversation failed to resume, postures became stiff, and countenances grew tight and wary. My father made a notable exception with a mirthful turn to his lips. When Lady Catherine took the vacant seat next to him, he winked at me. No doubt he found her manners, speech, and air of hauteur diverting.
Once both ladies settled at the table, I informed them of the picnic. They each declared they would attend. I held my mouth still to avoid revealing my disappointment. Well, I should not allow them to spoil the event for the others.
I set my jaw to prepare for whatever unpleasantness Lady Catherine threw at me. However, she did not so much as glance in my direction. On this occasion, Georgiana received her ladyship’s relentless attention. My sister’s studious avoidance of Lady Catherine over the past years must have made her an object of avid interest for the lady. She asked Georgiana a series of questions clearly aimed at determining whether her niece managed her household in an efficient mode. My poor sister sank lower in her seat and fumbled at her replies.
“Lady Catherine”—I leaned forwards, projecting my voice—“perhaps you would be good enough to describe the gardens at Rosings Park for those present who have not had the pleasure of seeing them.”
“Yes, perhaps another time.” She turned back to Georgiana, showing no less determination in her object than a hound in pursuit of a fox.
“That is quite enough, Aunt.” Richard’s voice boomed across the table, prompting Lady Catherine to halt mid-sentence and meet his gaze. “Georgiana is an exemplary mistress. I should notwant her to change in any way, and there is nothing more to be said on the subject.”
I relaxed against my chair. Thank goodness for Richard; my dear sister had married a man protective of her comfort.
Thereafter, Lady Catherine directed her energy to her food and remained mercifully quiet.
Mrs. Reynolds entered the breakfast room and approached me. “Excuse me, madam, but Miss de Bourgh has arrived. Rooms are being prepared for her and her companion.”
My breath hitched. “Miss de Bourgh.”The woman who is despondent over my marriage is here.
Lady Catherine’s walking stick thudded on the floor as she rose to her feet. “What is this? My daughter is here?” At Mrs. Reynolds’s nod, she strode from the room.
Fitzwilliam and I stood and faced each other. I addressed those seated at the table. “Pray excuse us.” Should I be forced to face another member of my husband’s family who intended to inflict harm upon me? Fitzwilliam appeared at my side, and I took his proffered arm, raising my chin. With him beside me, I should not be intimidated.
Darcy
Although I had offered my arm to Elizabeth forhersupport, her presence fortified me as we approached the front entrance.
At first, it seemed a mistake had been made—the lady in the vestibule with a confident bearing and robust appearance could not be Anne. Yet as she entered the hall with Graham, my cousin’s unmistakable features became evident. Behind them, with a lowered head and hunched posture, followed her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. The elder lady took a positionbehind Graham's much larger form as though hoping to escape notice.
With her left hand clenched upon her walking stick, Lady Catherine leaned past Graham to jab her finger towards Mrs. Jenkinson. “What is the meaning of this? Why did you allow my daughter to make this journey? You know very well I meant for her to remain at Rosings.”
“Do not blame her, Mother.” Anne spoke before her companion could utter a word. She moved between Lady Catherine and Mrs. Jenkinson. “She understood that I would come here regardless of what she did. If she had refused to accompany me, I should have taken a maid in her stead.”
I stood immobile with my sight anchored upon Anne. She had undergone an astounding transformation! This new, improved version of my cousin stood up to her mother. Elizabeth leaned against me with a fixed stare directed at Anne; my wife appeared to be no less stunned at the spectacle.
Pressure on my arm cut through my fog of wonderment as Elizabeth urged me forwards. With a nod at Graham, she confronted Anne. “Miss de Bourgh, we are happy to welcome you and Mrs. Jenkinson to Pemberley. You must be fatigued from your journey. As soon as your rooms are ready, I shall have hot water sent up.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Darcy.” Anne remained impassive, her body taut.
Elizabeth glanced at me. I ought to have spoken first. Thank goodness, she covered for my lapse.
I held out my hand. “Anne, it is good to see you. It has been many years since you have been to Pemberley, and you have not yet met our son, Bennet. Besides Mr. Graham, we have other guests with us, including Richard and Georgiana, so you have arrived at an opportune time.”
My cousin stared at me with wide eyes and a sagging jaw. She accepted my hand with a limp grip. “It is…um…good to see you, Darcy.”
I released her. Anne’s obvious surprise at this attention from me presented a stark reminder of my past neglect. I had spoken more words to her just now than I had in the past eight years. She had every reason to despise me.
With her shoulders pressed back, Anne shifted her gaze to include Elizabeth. “I hope to meet your son soon.”
My wife grasped Anne’s hand. “Miss de Bourgh, as we are cousins by marriage, I hope you will consent to calling me Elizabeth.” Anne’s eyes fell upon their joined hands.
Would Anne snatch her hand away? My breath arrested.
