While Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair, her dark eyes darted briefly towards the half-open door before meeting Darcy’s intense gaze. “Before we proceed further, I have matters to disclose, and the walls of my cousin’s home are not as deaf as one might hope,” she whispered.
“I know,” he replied quietly. “That is why I chose to visit while your cousin was occupied with my aunt.”
“He does give her much adoration and attention, but I refer to the servants. We have enjoyed a moment’s privacy while Molly fetches us fresh tea, yet she will return shortly to linger at the parlour door and convey anything she overhears to some unknown entity at the manor.”
“Surely, you jest.”
“I do not. Your aunt knows far too much, but such is the life my cousin and his wife have chosen, so I say nothing.” Rising deliberately, Elizabeth smoothed her skirts and signalled thattheir tête-à-tête was ending. In a low tone that barely disturbed the air between them, she added, “Meet me tomorrow morning in the grove. I shall bring my uncle’s address and a letter of vital family information. Please reflect carefully on what I intend to share.”
“You have my word,” he said, stepping forward before he paused at the soft rattle of the tea tray beyond the door. He raised his voice to a polite timbre. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I must decline tea. I promised my aunt I would finish reviewing the estate ledgers, for my cousin and I plan to depart early tomorrow morning.”
“It was my pleasure,” Elizabeth said, turning to the rosy-cheeked maid who entered with the tea, its silver service gleaming in the waning light. “Thank you, Molly. Mr. Darcy will not be remaining, so I shall be the only one to indulge in the cook’s custard tarts.”
“Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, bowing deeply.
“Goodbye, Mr. Darcy. Safe travels,” she said in return, as he strode from the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway. With a bright smile, she addressed Molly once more. “Well, I daresay we shall miss their visits as they were certainly a pair of affable gentlemen. I found nothing lacking in their manners, and Lady Catherine should be quite proud of her nephews.”
Elizabeth then poured herself a cup of tea, the amber liquid steaming in the delicate china cup, confident that Lady Catherine’s emissary would report Mr. Darcy’s farewell call and Miss Bennet’s praises of the great lady’s nephews. This would smooth Charlotte’s path once news of the Bennet family reachedKent.
Having secured Elizabeth’s agreementto meet him the next morning, Darcy set off for Rosings with buoyant steps and a lighter heart. Though pained by her refusal to accept his proposal outright, he had no cause for reproach: her objections were sound and well expressed, and he could scarcely blame her for holding fast to them after his own disgraceful conduct.
Miss Bennet occupied his thoughts next, a lady whose sweet temperament had not spared her from Bingley’s inconstancy. Elizabeth’s earlier mention of her sister residing with family on Gracechurch Street presented an opportunity he could not ignore. Two considerations compelled him to call upon her: the necessity of expressing his profound remorse for his interference between her and Bingley — a misdeed he now acknowledged with shame — and the obligation to inform her, should her affections remain engaged, of his erstwhile friend’s present pecuniary difficulties. He could not bear to think of such a gentle creature yoked to a man whose debts might crush her delicate spirit.
Upon his return to Rosings, he discovered Lady Catherine deep in animated discourse with Mr. Collins. Wielding the excuse of attending estate business, he made his escape to the library, a haven of peace smelling faintly of old leather and beeswax polish. Sunlight slanted through the high windows, and he discovered his cousin Anne perched on a cushioned settee beneath rows of leather-bound volumes whose spines gleamed like gold. Darcy claimed a chair near her and, with a tightening in his chest, began speaking of their rumoured engagement, and even though he loved her as a cherished member of his family, he did not wish to marry her.
He half-expected Anne to flush crimson and burst into tears at his firm refusal to form any kind of proposal. Instead, she collapsed against the couch’s velvet back, exhaling in audible relief. “At last,” she murmured. “I had begun to fear Mother’s fanciful assumptions would never be set aside.”
“You are not offended?” he asked in genuine surprise. “You have never said a word to the contrary.”
“Have you ever heard me utter a word in Mother’s presence? She dominates every conversation, every thought… every… everything! No one dares oppose her, and frankly, I am too tired to try. You come here for your obligatory fortnight visit each spring, then vanish to your grand estate without so much as a thought for what I think, what I do, or whom I might see, though I see no one because of her. Even Mrs. Jenkinson shuns me for fear Mother will wring every secret from her.”
“I had no idea it was so difficult for you.”
“How could you? You never speak to me, nor do you look at me. I do not believe you could accurately describe me, if required. How do I take my tea? You have sat at the breakfast table with me for two weeks every year; you should know. Do I like clotted cream on my scone? In which hand do I hold my cards when Mother insists on whist? What do you know of me beyond my name?”
By now, Anne’s face was flushed, tears sliding down her cheeks. A pang of guilt struck Darcy like a physical blow. How could he have been so cruel as to subject his cousin to her mother’s machinations?
“Peace, Anne,” he murmured, offering his handkerchief. “I am ashamed that I have been so blind to your distress. I was so intent on denying your mother any advantage that I overlooked your suffering.”
“I bear you no great ill will,” she replied, dabbing her eyes. “Had you shown even a flicker of interest, Mother would have had the banns proclaimed before breakfast. My frustration lies with her, rather than you.”
“Then let us begin anew,” Darcy said earnestly. “I wish nothing more than to be your friend, and if you need anything – anything at all, Anne – pray tell me, and I will do my utmost to assist you.”
A throat cleared, causing both to start.
“Thank your lucky stars that it is I who discovered you two alone in the library,” remarked Fitzwilliam as he entered. His brow furrowed upon observing Anne’s tear-stained face. “What is this? What have you done, Darcy!”
“Nothing untoward, you have my word,” Darcy replied, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. He glanced at his fragile cousin, who nodded slightly. “Anne and I have been discussing marriage.”
“What!” Fitzwilliam staggered back a step,
“Not between ourselves,” Darcy clarified. “Rather, about confronting Lady Catherine regarding her persistent delusion of our supposed engagement from infancy. Anne and I have no wish to bind our lives together.”
“Heaven be praised,” Fitzwilliam exclaimed, collapsing into the nearest chair. “I could not bear to see Anne become your bride...”
“Richard?” Anne’s voice drifted across the chamber, her eyes wide with newfound hope.
Abandoning his seat, Richard knelt before his fragile cousin, clasping her hands in his.
