In Kent, Anne was pleased to see how many of her orders had already been carried out—and with a promptness she had not thought possible. One of her earliest letters had summoned her cousin, Andrew Fitzwilliam, Viscount Trentham, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s elder brother; and even now, he and his wife, Eleanor, were assisting her in removing nearly all trace of her mother’s former control.
Anne had turned five and twenty only a few months before. She had long known that Rosings was hers by right, and that it was to pass into her control upon that birthday. Yet her mother had said nothing—and Anne had come to understand that she never intended to.
She had raised the matter only once.
“I believe, Mama, that the management of Rosings must now fall to me as Father’s will indicated,” Anne had said, with more steadiness than she felt just a few days after her birthday.
“You are not equal to such responsibility,” Lady Catherine had returnedat once. “I shall continue as I always have. Your father was not considering your delicate constitution when he wrote the will the way he did.”
Nothing further had been said—but Anne had understood then that her mother would not willingly relinquish control.
From that moment, she had begun to plan. Letters had been sent to her cousins—Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Lord Trentham—and, in cautious exchanges, they had discussed how best to secure for her what was already hers. All recognised the difficulty; none underestimated Lady Catherine nor her insistence on getting her own way. Yet when Darcy wrote to her of his coming marriage, Anne saw at once that the opportunity she required had at last presented itself.
She made her preparations quietly and waited for the moment for them to be fulfilled. Her companion, Mrs Jenkinson was her aid in this, ensuring that her letters could be sent and received without her mother’s notice, and she had also taken upon herself to carry out some arrangements to make it easier for Anne to take control when the time came.
When Mr Collins arrived in a state of breathless agitation to announce Darcy’s engagement to his cousin and former houseguest, Anne had scarcely been able to conceal her satisfaction at her mother’s immediate determination to quit Rosings and set matters right, or at least, right in her mind.
Within hours of Lady Catherine’s departure, Anne acted. Several servants—those whose loyalty lay wholly with her mother—were dismissed without delay. Their protests were immediate and, at times, heated.
“You have no authority—none at all!” one declared.
“On the contrary,” Anne said, her voice quiet but unyielding, “I have every authority since Rosings is mine.”
The footmen sent by Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam—who had been lodged for the past few days in an empty tenant cottage—required no further instruction. Together with the new housekeeper sent fromDarcy House, they oversaw the packing of trunks and the removal of those dismissed. Anne herself ensured that conveyances were provided, though she was careful that none should remain at Hunsford or within easy reach of Rosings.
The following morning brought the arrival of Lord Trentham.
“You have done well,” he said, after hearing her account.
“I have only begun,” Anne replied.
He met first with the steward, then with the tenants, making it known—firmly and without ambiguity—that Miss Anne de Bourgh was henceforth mistress of Rosings. Sir Lewis’s will was produced and examined, and the steward, upon seeing it, appeared visibly relieved.
“Then I am no longer required to carry out her ladyship’s… particular instructions?” he asked.
“You are required to follow Miss de Bourgh’s,” Lord Trentham answered.
“Then I am very much at ease,” the man said. “I will be delighted to assist Miss de Bourgh however she requires.”
The tenants, too, received the news with cautious approval. They knew little of Miss de Bourgh beyond her quiet manners, and while they could not yet be certain she would differ from her mother, they seemed inclined to hope that she might.
Anne did not mistake their uncertainty—but neither did she shrink from it. She had spoken often with Darcy of what Rosings ought to be, and now, with his guidance and Lord Trentham’s support, she felt she possessed of at least the beginnings of a plan.
There was much yet to be done—but for the first time in her life, she found herself equalto the task.
Saturday, 15 August 1812
Far to the north, the quiet of breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of the post—two letters, one for him and the other for his sister—brought in by the innkeeper himself.
Charles Bingley accepted his without much thought. They had been at the inn for several days, ever since his sister had declared herself unwilling to remain with their relations in Scarborough during their visit. She had offered a variety of objections—chief among them that their accommodations were beneath her—but Bingley had long since learned that it was easier to acquiesce than to argue his point.
Turning the letter over in his hand, he was surprised to observe that it was clearly written in the hand of his good friend Darcy, and that it bore the mark of Hertfordshire; on closer inspection, he thought he could even distinguish Meryton.
“What is Darcy doing there?” he muttered, drawing his sister’s attention at the mention of his friend’s name.
“Darcy has written to you?” she asked, setting her own letter aside, evidently far more interested in his correspondence than in her own. In her haste, her elbow struck it from the table; though Bingley saw it fall, he gave it little notice.
“Yes,” Bingley said slowly, wondering how his sister would receive the news that Darcy appeared to be in Hertfordshire. Had the mark not also suggested Meryton, he might have supposed the letter posted on the road to or from London; but Meryton lay well off the main route.Why should Darcy be there?he wondered again, not wishing to voice the thought aloud to Caroline.
