I will send a messenger when I am close to home; I ask that you have the servants standing on the steps of the house to welcome her, as is traditionally done when the new mistress arrives.
Her loving son,
Fitzwilliam
Her loving son! How could he sign himself so, knowing that he was going against her express wishes! Truly, it was beyond all understanding.
“Mother?” a soft voice interrupted her ruminations.
She quickly tucked the letter back into her pocket and turned with a smile pinned to her face. “Yes, Georgiana?”
“Are you quite well, Mother?”
“I am, of course.”
“It is only that you have seemed upset since…well, since you returned from Aunt Catherine’s.”
Should she confide in her daughter? Georgiana was fifteen, though she seemed younger. Lady Anne recalled herself at that age; surely, she had not been so shy and retiring as her daughter. Then again, she had had the advantage of having taken part in London’s social scene since she could walk.
“I wish you would tell me what is wrong, Mother,” the girl continued, her voice gentle.
“Georgiana, there is indeed something distressing me, but I do not wish to make you unhappy.”
“If you are unhappy, why, then, I am unhappy as well! You may as well tell me what it is.”
Lady Anne took a deep breath. “Your brother has made a very unfortunate marriage.”
“But – he was on his way to marry Cousin Anne. Is that not why he journeyed to Kent? I do not understand.”
“Yes, but he changed his mind about Anne upon meeting another young lady at Rosings.”
“There was another young lady at Rosings?”
“Yes. Well, no, not at Rosings, but at the parsonage. Your Aunt Catherine made the mistake of inviting the parson, his wife and their visitors to dinner, and that put paid to any chance poor Anne had.”
“You went to Rosings, Mother; did you meet the young lady?”
“I did, and a very conniving young thing she turned out to be!”
“Conniving? I do not understand.”
“Why, she – shethrewherself at your brother in a most unseemly way!”
“She led him to compromise her!” Georgiana gasped in horror.
Lady Anne had the grace to colour at this, recalling her own part in helping Anne de Bourgh attempt just such a thing, but she shook her head. “No, but she paid him a good deal of attention, until his head was quite turned.”
“I suppose she must be very pretty?”
“No, not very. Not at all, honestly.”
“But he has married her! This is shocking indeed, Mother, and I understand now why you are so distressed. Will he bring her here?”
“Yes, and – oh, Georgiana! She will take my place!”
“Your place? Whatever can you mean? You are my mother and William’s; no one could ever take your place.”
Why did no one understand! Lady Anne fought the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. “Not my place as your mother, Georgiana, my place as mistress of Pemberley.”
