Page 19 of Bitterness of Spirit

“Surely, Lady Catherine cannot control what you do, Miss de Bourgh. You are of age, I believe. You are entitled to do as you wish, are you not?”

Anne stared at her in confusion; a puzzled expression widened her eyes. “What do you mean? I cannot contradict Mother. Besides, I am not strong enough to do anything by myself.”

Elizabeth struggled to find the proper reply. She regretted mentioning the matter and doubted that Miss de Bourgh was composed enough to carry on a reasonable discussion. She was tempted to leave but could not abandon Anne there. Whatever the reason for her torment, it could not be ignored. A deep pity warmed her heart. Here was a woman of great fortune, who was born and raised under the most favourable circumstances and had no reason to worry for her future; and yet, it appeared she had neither future prospects nor present awareness. Dominated by a demanding mother, she waited to wed a cousin who obviously avoided complying with what was expected of him. Lonely and alone, she sat on the grass of a beautiful garden she owned, afraid to be seen. So great a means of living with so little freedom to actually do so.

“Miss de Bourgh, I would suggest moving closer to the house through the grove. The trees will preserve our privacy for a while. From there, I shall return to the parsonage, and you may return home.”

The reply came reluctantly. “Very well.”

They walked together, one stepping decidedly, the other carefully, watching the ground beneath her feet.

“Miss Bennet? If you happen to be alone…I might be in the same place over the next few days. Just please be so kind as to not mention it to anyone else.”

“You must not worry for my secrecy, Miss de Bourgh. I trust I shall find a few minutes for a stroll tomorrow at the same time.” Elizabeth was surprised to notice a trace of a contented smile on her companion’s face.

She felt guilty for all her mischievous thoughts regarding the young lady she had not taken the trouble to know. Anne de Bourgh’s loneliness must be unbearable, and she had no real chance of ending it. She was painfully realistic about her future and about her cousin’s lack of interest in marrying her, despite Lady Catherine’s plans. And that, perhaps, was for the better. Being trapped in a marriage lacking in love and respect was equally as bitter a fate as being caged at Rosings with Lady Catherine for the rest of her life.

They separated near the fence at the back garden, and Elizabeth observed Anne enter through the servants’ door. Her heart ached as she turned towards the parsonage. And suddenly, Anne’s statement that she had never heard Darcy laugh came to mind. She could not remember his laughing either, but he did smile a few times in her presence. However, it was impossible to say whether Mr. Darcy’s smile hid amusement or something entirely and frighteningly different.

***

The carriage moved on at a steady pace, and the colonel chatted amiably, but Darcy scarcely heard a word. The weather was lovely, but his heart was burdened with worry. The carriage was taking him not towards Rosings but towards her.

The haste of their visit was his secret desire to see her. Everything connected to her was a secret he struggled to conceal. And everything about her was a desire he also tried to overcome and hide as deeply as possible in his mind and in his soul.

Was she enjoying the Park? She must take long walks around the Parsonage. He liked riding through the fields too. It was not impossible that they would meet at some time.

The mere notion of seeing her alone in the woods stirred his thoughts as chills touched his skin.

“So, are you prepared to answer more questions about your impending marriage?” the colonel asked. Darcy responded with a glare.

“There is no impending marriage. I shall take this opportunity to talk to Anne. The situation must be settled once and for all.”

“I hope this visit will be less boring than the last one. I never imagined a fortnight could be as long as last year’s visit to Rosings. Nobody plays, nobody sings, nobody laughs. You know, I often wonder whether Anne is truly ill or just sick of all the boredom.”

“We should not joke about Anne’s health.”

“I do not—quite the contrary. I would like to have another doctor check her health. I often speak to my mother about this, and I have a hard time understanding Aunt Catherine’s reluctance to seek a second—even third—opinion on such an important matter.”

“Lady Catherine seems to trust only in Dr. Crawford. I agree that Anne should search for other opinions. I have offered to escort her to London several times. She could stay with your parents or with Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley. But she cannot be persuaded to do anything that does not meet with Aunt Catherine’s approval.”

“Aunt Catherine will not allow her to leave Rosings unless she is married.”

“Richard, we have already debated the reasons that I would never marry Anne. Travelling to London is just another one on that list. But that does not diminish my concern for her or my desire to do what is best for her improvement,” Darcy spoke in earnest.

“I wonder whether the presence of the parson’s guests might bring some animation to Rosings. That is—if Aunt Catherine will allow them to be around.” The colonel changed the subject, but Darcy had no reply.

“And what can you tell me about Mrs. Collins’s sister and her friend Miss Bennet? Are they handsome? Are they pleasant ladies? Do any of them possess talents that will entertain us?”

Darcy threw him a stern glare. “Of Miss Maria Lucas, I hardly remember. She is very young; she should not be out yet, but the people of Hertfordshire rarely give proper consideration to such things. As for Miss Bennet, I remember nothing but good things about her. She does play and sing, quite lovely; however, I doubt her purpose would be to entertain us. I hope you will not attempt to trifle with her.”

“I am glad to hear such a good report,” the colonel responded with a laugh. “If the good things you remember about her are true, she would not allow me to trifle with her.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “I am often surprised that you find amusement in everything. You resemble Bingley in that respect.”

“Just as I am often surprised that you find amusement in nothing. Do you never tire of always being so serious? I try to imagine the sound of your voice were you to laugh wholeheartedly.”

“Come now, Richard. You have heard me laugh countless times. Do not be so dramatic.”