AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My dear,” Darcy interrupted gently, touching his hand to Elizabeth’s elbow, “we must speak with Collins and my aunt.”
Surveying his small group, Elizabeth instantly understood his intent. “Of course. Charlotte should also join us. Please excuse me, Mama.” She took Darcy’s proffered arm with a weary smile. “I believe my cousin has Lady Catherine in the yellow drawing room. It is small and isolated from the rest of the house.” Darcy had not seen his aunt since the church; Collins had made only a brief appearance at the breakfast, where he glowered at the revelers before disappearing again.
The small group trooped into the hallway and then—after a delay to collect Mrs. Collins from the nursery—entered the drawing room. One of Longbourn’s smaller rooms, it barely had enough chairs and felt quite cramped once everyone was seated.
Aunt Catherine was arranged on a fainting couch with Collins seated beside her, an unopened book of sermons in his hand. Darcy rather suspected that the clergyman’s offer to read to his aunt had resulted in several hours of listening to her complaints. But Elizabeth’s cousin regarded her ladyship with untiring admiration; perhaps he believed it was a privilege to hear her grievances.
Darcy did not seat himself but hovered near the fireplace, one hand on the mantle. He gave both Collins and Aunt Catherine nods of greeting, thinking how bizarre it was to demonstrate such politeness to two people who just that day had endeavored to prevent his marriage. However, manners were essential to civil society—the grease that allowed the gears of civilization to run smoothly. “Aunt Catherine, I trust you are feeling better?”
His aunt put her hand to her forehead as though about to swoon, but the forcefulness of her voice belied any weakness. “Indeed, I am not. I do believe it will take me quite a while to recover from this terrible shock!” She glared at her daughter.
“I apologize, Mama,” Anne said with little evidence of contrition. “I did tell you that I love Peter and intended to marry him.”
Aunt Catherine gave a disdainful little sniff. “Yes, but I did not believe you were serious.”
Anne’s smile was rather fierce. “You thought you could prevent it, you mean.”
Her mother turned her head to the wall but did not deny the accusation.
“In any event,” Darcy interjected, “Anne and Peter are married, and we should discuss their living situation.” A frisson of anxiety traveled down his spine; he had put this plot into motion, but its success—and his future happiness—depended on others playing their parts.
“Living situation?” Aunt Catherine echoed as if she did not understand the term.
“Yes, Mama,” Anne said with a smile, reveling in having the upper hand for once. “After all, Rosings Park is mine—my inheritance. Peter and I could take up residence there.”
Aunt Catherine gaped at her.
“You, of course, would then move into the dower house,” Anne said matter-of-factly, folding her hands in her lap.
His aunt’s expression nearly provoked Darcy to laughter. The dower house had been his suggestion, and Anne had embraced it. They both knew her mother was loath to lose any scrap of the control she had exercised over the Rosings Park estate since Anne’s father had died.
Aunt Catherine lifted her chin. “I have no intention of moving into the dower house!”
Anne shrugged as if the answer held no importance. “Alternatively, I could go to live with Peter at Locksley Grange. His parents have been most welcoming to me and would be quite pleased to have me stay.”
Caught between two unpalatable alternatives, Aunt Catherine glared at Anne. She had lost control of her daughter. Anne was being generous in offering her mother the chance to maintain control of Rosings. Aunt Catherine recognized the charity for what it was—and hated it.
“I think Locksley Grange would do very nicely for you.” Aunt Catherine bit off every word. “There is no need for you to assume control of Rosings Park just yet. You and your…husband might enjoy some…quiet and relaxation.”
Anne smiled, the picture of delight. “That was precisely my thinking as well, Mama! Indeed, we intend a three-month honeymoon at the seaside before we return to the Grange. I would imagine we shall be extremely relaxed by then.”
Aunt Catherine said nothing, but a movement in her jaw suggested she was grinding her teeth rather strenuously as she pictured her daughter’s honeymoon.
Darcy gave a brisk nod. “Excellent. That is decided, and—”
“But forgive me, Lady Catherine,” Mrs. Collins chimed in as if they had rehearsed their parts in this play. “Will you not feel too isolated at Rosings Park without your daughter’s companionship?”
His aunt regarded the other woman down her nose. “I daresay I may bear the deprivation.”
“Naturally, but must you?” Aunt Catherine frowned at Collins’s wife. “I know you offered my husband the position as your personal chaplain. Perhaps he might join you at Rosings—at least for the first few months—to help ease the solitude. I would be willing to sacrifice his company for that long.”
When Mrs. Collins had started speaking, h
er husband appeared to be in danger of falling off his chair from the shock, but by the end of her speech, he regarded Aunt Catherine like a dog hoping for a treat.
However, before Aunt Catherine could respond, Collins shook his head and fell back into his chair. “No, I cannot leave Longbourn. I am needed here.”
Elizabeth’s body shook as she suppressed a giggle.
