Page 5 of Regrets

The room fell silent.

Anne immediately turned red and stared down at her shoes. Aunt Catherine had risen to her feet, staring down at Georgiana from what seemed a very great height.

Mr. Darcy came to Georgiana’s rescue. “Indeed, Georgiana, I think you quite right. Anne is not mentally deficient, at least not to the best of my knowledge.” His tone was ever-so-slightly sarcastic.

Aunt Catherine could not allow that to pass, of course; she immediately turned to Mrs. Jenkinson and said, regally, “I think we may allow Anne to make her own decisions in that regard, Mrs. Jenkinson.”

The companion nodded, but then glared at Georgiana. Georgiana glared back.

Anne leaned over and whispered, “Thank you, Cousin!”

When they were finally released to retire for the night, Georgiana went first to her brother’s room.

“Everything here is quite odd, is it not?” she began.

Mr. Darcy sighed. “Aunt Catherine has always had rather elevated ideas about her station in life and its attendant responsibilities,” he replied.

“Poor Anne! To grow up with Aunt Catherine as a mother!”

“And with Mrs. Jenkinson as her only companion! It is dreadful indeed for poor Anne. But, Georgiana, this does not mean that it falls to you to repair the situation. It is not too late for you to change your mind,” he said. “I can make our excuses and take you with me back to Pemberley tomorrow.”

Georgiana considered this for several minutes. Finally, she shook her head. “No. Anne needs my help. I cannot abandon her.”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “I honour you for your feelings, Georgiana, but if you change your mind, you need simply send a message and I will be here to fetch you as soon as may be.”

Chapter Five

Mr. Darcy departed shortly after breakfast the next morning. Georgiana went outside with him when the coach was ready. “Do not forget,” he said. “You need not stay here if it becomes unpleasant.” He hugged her closely. “And do write to me! I expect at least two letters every week!”

“And will you write back?” she asked.

“I will, I promise,” he said. He hugged her one last time, kissed her on the forehead, and climbed into the carriage. She watched as the carriage disappeared around a bend, feeling suddenly forlorn.

A cold, thin hand crept into hers. “It will be all right,” Anne whispered. “We will be together.”

“With Mrs. Jenkinson watching our every move,” Georgiana whispered back.

Anne sighed. “I know; it is ever so wearisome.”

“Are there any neighbours? Does anyone ever come visiting?” Georgiana asked.

“Yes; Mother receives a good many calls from nearby ladies. And there is a parson, who visits Mother at least three times a week, but he is the dullest person on earth!”

“Has he a wife?”

“No. I cannot imagine who would have him, truly.”

“Who else?”

“My doctor, of course, Doctor Fleming. He comes to Rosings to do dreary medical things to me. He bleeds me, and gives me laudanum so that I sleep all day.”

“That sounds terrible,” Georgiana said, her brow wrinkled in concern.

“It is terrible,” Anne agreed. “But it is supposed to be good for me, so Mother makes certain that I do everything he suggests.”

“What do they say is wrong with you?”

Anne shrugged. “I am quite weak. I cannot walk far, or do anything for very long before becoming tired. The doctor listens to my chest and shakes his head.”