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She stayed quiet for a long time while the sisters was watching her, and then finally said, “Very well. I shall go tomorrow, but please—”

Mary wouldn’t let her off that easy. “Your room is already made up. It has a bed for Betsy as well. You can see Lizzy tonight, in a half-hour’s time. We shall not force you to endure a supper, but we would all feel far better with you down the hall than a mile away at an inn.”

Charlotte had nothin’ left to argue with. “This will seem selfish, but if I come for a day—” The two girls watched her close while she looked for the right words. Looking back, I think she was trying not to sound mean. “—will you keep the colonel away?”

The sisters give each other a funny look, like there was a secret they warn’t telling, though of course I didn’t think much of it at the time, since the whole day was queer to me.

Mary said, “Of course.”

I jumped a little when Kitty sprung up off the floor in a hurry to get things moving afore Charlotte could change her mind. Kitty didn’t know that once Charlotte makes her mind up, nothing on earth can budge her.

Kitty pulled the door open and hollered right out into the hall, “Brother! Aunt! She agreed. Pray, come be introduced.”

A minute later, a very tall gentleman walked in. I suppose I know now that he’s handsome, though back then all I noticed was how tall he was, and how fancy his hair looked, and how you could see your own face in them shiny boots of his. I didn’t know he was rich as a king, but I reckoned his coat alone must’ve cost a whole pound!

He bowed to Charlotte. “Miss Lucas, well met. I am very happy to see you again, though I wish it were under less trying circumstances. Pray, accept my gratitude that you will visit us, and know that you are most welcome at Rosings or Pemberley any time.”

Then he turned to a grand old lady what looked much older than my mam… maybe even as old as Lady Lucas. “Aunt, may I present you to Elizabeth’s good friend Miss Charlotte Lucas? Miss Lucas, my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

Charlotte looked at the old lady sideways, like she didn’t trust her, but she dipped a proper curtsy just the way she’d been trying to teach me (without much luck).

Then, to my great shock, the tall gentleman looked right at me. “Miss Lucas, may I have the pleasure of an introduction to your friend?”

Charlotte give ‘em my name just as if I was a real lady what belonged in the same room with them. Nobody had ever called me “Miss Clymer” in my whole life! I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I just mumbled what Charlotte taught me and stared down at my boots.

The grand old lady walked right up to me, stuck her crooked finger under my chin, and tilted my head up so I had to look her in the eye. “Have no fear, child. You are most welcome.”

I don’t know why, and I expect I never will, but I believed her right off, the same as I always believed Charlotte. Since coming here, I’ve learnt that the quality say a great many nice things they don’t mean at all, yet to this very day I’ve never heard Lady Catherine tell a lie. Sometimes what she says is sharp or cross or hard to hear or… well, not very nice, to be plain, but she never says a word she does not mean.

The tall chap—what was the new brother the girls talked about—said, “Miss Lucas. Miss Clymer. Let us go. The other sisters are most anxious for your return.”

He give his aunt a funny look and held out his arm for Charlotte, then the old lady said, “Perhaps you might escort me, Miss Clymer.”

I wondered how our trunks was going to get to this place, but Charlotte didn’t look worried about it, so I didn’t worry neither.

As we walked out, I wondered just how big this Rosings place was. I thought it must be very fine indeed; maybe even as big as Lucas Lodge!

Of course, that was back then, and this is now. Today I sit in a schoolroom that’s bigger by itself than my Da’s whole farmhouse. My hair is plaited with pretty silk ribbons, though thank goodness my dress is plain enough not to fuss with, and I’m hoping Mary will only make me copy this page out and fix my mistakes two or three times afore I have to go practise the pianoforte. I’ll never be any good and neither will Charlotte, but she says it rests her head to teach me, and it’s my favourite part of the whole day.

One time, I asked Lady Catherine, “Why me? Why’m I here in this grand house instead of that nice maid from the inn, or some other farmer’s girl from the village?”

“Not all can be welcomed, child,” she told me. “It is just the way of the world. Life is a matter of circles and connections, and nobody knows why one person is in a particular sphere while others are not. The Bennet sisters are in mine because—well, I have my own reasons—but mostly because my nephew loves them. Miss Lucas is in our circle because she is friends with the Bennets, and you are here because you are friends with her. Nobody knows why the dice rolled that way, but you are here now, so make the most of it.”

Sometimes, Aunt Catherine makes more sense than anybody.

Winter

Anne

I missed Fitzwilliam dreadfully and he had only been gone a day. He was not even at Pemberley yet, while I sat in my old room watching Elizabeth sleep, or whatever it was she was doing. I even missed my other cousin Richard, who had been dragged out of the house kicking and screaming to help Darcy with another crisis at Pemberley. Well, that was only about half right. The pale shadow of my cousin Darcy dragged him out kicking and screaming and limping and cursing, but apparently Richard had left the army and was now to be some kind of landowner. Darcy was determined to teach him what he knew, and prevent Richard from repeating his own mistakes with his lady love. Charlotte could still just barely stand being in the same house, let alone the same room. The Bennet sisters clearly knew what was happening, but they had yet to share it with me, apparently thinking I could not work it out for myself—silly sisters.

My life changed almost beyond recognition in the few months between the first time I ever made myself look pretty, and the day I found myself sitting around just wishing Elizabeth would wake up, as if my wishes piled on everyone else’s would tip the scales in her favour. She was now Elizabeth or Lizzy to everyone, even those like me who never even had a proper conversation with her, and Betsy, who had never even met her. Elizabeth had somehow rearranged all our lives without even knowing it. Some might look at our current situation and reckon we all circled around Fitzwilliam like children around a Maypole, but it was really Elizabeth at the centre of it all.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, my grim and taciturn cousin of the past twenty-odd years, had turned into a thoughtful and loving cousin overnight through Lizzy’s magic, only to have it all snatched away a few hours later by a madman. How he resisted either killing the man or allowing Lydia to do so was beyond me; but in the end, I suppose it is one more thing to admire him for. I had to believe that, if she actually wanted the man dead, he would be dead already.

I am told it was the worst winter in decades, and Pemberley was beset with a crisis requiring the master’s efforts, much as it had been the previous summer. He tried to explain it to me: something about a partially frozen stream backing up, then an ice dam breaking and causing flooding and destruction among his tenants, but thankfully no deaths. It had even done considerable damage to Pemberley itself. He did his best to explain it, but since I dozed off a few minutes in and woke up just as he finished, I might have missed something. It did not matter; he would be back and explain it again, but it sounded like it might be months; unless of course Lizzy woke up, in which case it would be as fast as a string of horses changed out every ten miles could carry a man.

I personally thought a proper crisis was just what Fitzwilliam needed, since he had spent the previous two months doing his best to kill himself sitting part of the time by my bed and the rest by Lizzy’s, regardless of the fact that he had a half-dozen sisters anxious to do the same. Mother finally threatened to stage footmen at his door if he did not relent and sleep at least from dusk to dawn at least one night. He looked so desolate I thought Richard had the much better bargain, having only been shot by one of his own men. Yes, he needed something he could do besides staring helplessly at someone he could not help.