Her eyes swept over them all in one commanding glance.
“In the meantime, you may all find your rooms with the assistance of the housekeeper. Lunch can be sent up on trays. I expect you will wish to wash and make yourselves presentable before appearing again.”
Her gaze lingered pointedly on Darcy and Richard. “You all look quite terrible and thoroughly rumpled, which is beneath the dignity of an earl’s offspring.”
Richard looked faintly amused. Darcy simply inclined his head. “Yes, Aunt Catherine.”
She gave a satisfied nod. “I will speak with you all later, once you have restored yourselves to something resembling civilization.”
Darcy left the room with the others, though he could not help a small shake of his head at the familiar force of Lady Catherine’s authority. Whatever shock she had suffered earlier, it had clearly done nothing to diminish her command of the household.
Lady Anne paused as she left the room and rang for the housekeeper.
Darcy turned toward the wing where his usual guest chamber at Rosings was located. As he walked down the familiar hall, exhaustion began to settle into his bones now that the immediate crisis had passed.
Yet even as he reached his room and pushed open the door, his thoughts remained fixed elsewhere.
How the devil does she know about Elizabeth’s family? And what is in their history that would have caused her to react in such a way?
Until he knew the answers, he suspected none of them would find much peace.
Chapter 32
Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief and leaned back onto the soft feather pillows of her bed.
She was finally alone.
At first, she had wanted Georgiana to keep her company so as not to be alone in an unfamiliar house. Within a few minutes, however, Elizabeth had realized just how much she needed to be alone, to contemplate everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
But young Miss Darcy had been unable to understand Elizabeth’s subtle hints. Even when Lady Anne had returned briefly to collect her daughter, Georgiana has lingered, fussing over the arrangement of the pillows and the position of the blankets, her soft concern written plainly across her face.
It was only when Darcy came with a firm voice, telling his sister that she needed to wash up and take some food, that the room at last fell silent.
Nestling back further into the pillows, Elizabeth stared up at the unfamiliar canopy above her head.
Rosings.
Even thinking the word felt strange.
In the span of two days, her entire world had shifted beneath her feet. She knew everything was supposed to change today, but this was certainly not in the way she had expected.
Today… was supposed to be her wedding day.
The realization struck her with sudden force.
That very morning, as she had lain unconscious in a carriage, Jane—hopefully—had been standing in the little church at Meryton, saying her vows with the man she loved.
And Elizabeth was not at her side.
Emotion surged through her, and she pressed a hand to her mouth.
How did it come to this?
Why had her father turned on her so suddenly—so violently? To drug her… to plan to take her away like a criminal… to force her into a marriage with some stranger—
It sounded like something out of one of Lydia’s lurid gothic novels.
Except it had happened.
