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William stiffened. “I made no secret of the fact that I never wanted Anne, her dowry, or Rosings! I acquiesced to her plea to marry only after Dr. Swenson convinced me that she had mere weeks to live.”

“That sorry maggot was likely paid well to say whatever Aunt Catherine instructed him to!” Richard cried. “In fact, the next time I am in Kent, I shall look him up and give him a piece of my—” He went silent, though he slammed a fist into his palm to demonstrate his intentions.

Lost in his own thoughts, William replied almost too quietly to be heard, “Had my heart not recently been crushed, Anne’s pleas would have fallen on deaf ears. As it happened, she struck when I was most … vulnerable.”

“Immediately after Miss Bennet rejected your offer,” Richard stated solemnly.

Too affected to reply, William merely nodded. After a short period of silence, he murmured, “Now that Anne is dead, I had just as soon return Rosings to Aunt Catherine.”

“Father will never hear of it. He has complained for years that she was bankrupting Rosings, and he would need to get the estate under control. He was pleased that you would be in charge once you married Anne.”

“If my uncle wishes to manage Rosings, he is welcome to it.”

“I suppose he could let Lady Catherine remain in the dowager house and keep the new steward in place to run it.”

“It is of no consequence to me what he chooses to do, as long as I do not have to speak to that woman ever again.”

“When was the last time you conversed with her?”

“Six months or more; however, somewhere in this stack,” William patted the papers on his desk, “is a letter accusing me of killing her daughter.”

“Darcy, no matter what Aunt Catherine contends, the family knows Anne’s death was her own fault. She insisted on taking the phaeton out by herself in a storm when God knows you had grooms enough to drive her wherever she wished to go.”

“Perhaps I should have had standing orders at the stables that she never take out any vehicle alone.”

“What good would that have done?” Richard interjected. “Once she was out from under her mother’s thumb, it was apparent that Anne was like a wild animal set free. She would not have been gainsaid that easily. Moreover, after the horrible hoax she and Aunt Catherine pulled over you, I cannot imagine how you refrained from washing your hands of her.”

“As I said, her threats to ruin my reputation as a means to punish Georgiana were enough to purchase my silence.”

Richard walked over to the windows and for a time gazed at the horses galloping across a distant pasture. At length he turned to declare, “Frankly, I lay the entire debacle with Anne at the feet of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Had she not believed that cad Wickham, you would have married her, and none of this would have happened.”

“At the time Eliz … Miss Elizabeth refused my hand she had every reason to think better of Wickham. She was just as deceived by him as Georgiana had been. And in hindsight, my proposal was appalling. In trying to be completely honest, I insulted her and her family.”

“I cannot vouch for your manners. After all, you have never had to use them very often, but I do not agree about Wickham deceiving Miss Bennet. Georgie was a mere girl when that blackguard lied to her, whilst Miss Bennet was old enough to recognise a rake when she met one … or a true gentleman for that matter.”

“It was not her fault that I am a fool when it comes to understanding women. I still recall how convincingly Anne wept when she told me that all she had ever wanted was to die a married woman … for her married name to be engraved upon her tomb. It was a performance worthy of Sarah Siddons.”[1]

“Look at the bright side! Anne ended up reaping what she wished on you, and now you are free!” Seeing William shake his head despondently, Richard quickly continued, “Try not to dwell on the past. Thank the good Lord that you are still young enough to find a decent woman and focus on filling Pemberley with children.”

“To be truthful, Anne’s insanity nearly soured me on the whole idea of marriage.”

Richard quickly turned to face William. “Nearly! That signifies there is still hope, does it not?”

“Not because I want another wife, but I still desire a child of my own.”

“Enlighten me. What type of woman might persuade you into another marriage?”

“I am inclined to think a widow young enough to need a father for her children. That she is already a mother would make it evident she is able to bear children, and should she be willing to bear more children, a marriage of convenience could benefit us both.”

“I cannot believe you would willingly enter another such marriage.”

“My marriage to Anne was not a marriage of convenience! Convinced that she was dying, I did not even have my solicitor make provisions for what would normally be expected from a union … such as an heir.”

William stared at the portrait of his mother on the wall for a long time before continuing. “Most importantly, if I were to consider any woman in the future, she must have a reputation for being serene and kind. I desire no more drama. Someone with a shy nature, whose dearest wish is only to be a wife and mother, would suit me.”

“It sounds to me like you have given this a good deal of thought.”

“All I did the entire time I was married to Anne was fantasise about what might have been had I only acted more sensibly when I proposed to Miss Elizabeth.”