Chapter 20

“Good morning, Stokes,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said jauntily.

His aunt’s butler took his hat and cane and said, “Allow me to escort you to my mistress, who is waiting for you.”

Richard Fitzwilliam nodded and followed the man down the corridor, looking about as he did so. The inside of the house was even more grand and imposing than the outside, if possible, maintained by scurrying maids and subdued footmen who stood ramrod straight and stared blankly off into nothingness. Richard skirted a gilded chair that the butler avoided with the ease of long practice and reflected that what his aunt lacked in taste she made up for in ostentatious expense. He knew she had long wrung every penny from the land that she could get, with little interest in plowing any back in or maintaining the dwellings of her struggling tenants.

“Fitzwilliam, there you are!” Lady Catherine snapped as he strode into the room. The lady of the manor was, as usual, dressed in elaborate finery more suitable for a night at the opera than a quiet day at home. “Why is Darcy not here with you? It is quite insupportable that he did not return with you!”

“He had some business to complete,” Fitzwilliam said diplomatically. “I fear that your neighbor is rather stubborn.”

“Oh, Lord Wiltshire is an utter fool! That field has been part of Rosings for a hundred years! If only I had gone to London, I am certain I would have dealt with the problem in no time at all!”

“Perhaps,” Richard said in a noncommittal tone. He made a show of looking around and said, “Is Anne downstairs yet?”

Lady Catherine glanced at the ormolu clock which took pride of place on the mantelpiece and said, “It is only eleven o’clock. Given her ill health, it is inadvisable for my daughter to come downstairs before noon. You should know that.”

“Of course,” Richard replied meekly. “I wondered whether Anne would be willing to drive me around the estate in her phaeton. Since Darcy and I left early for London, I did not have the opportunity to tour the Park as I usually do. I must leave for London in two days, so perhaps…”

He trailed off invitingly, and Lady Catherine, frowning, glanced outside the great windows and demanded, “Does it look like it will rain?”

“No, the sky is clear and the winds are light. It is a lovely day.”

His aunt twisted her lips and said, rather grudgingly, “If Anne is willing, I will not stop you. I trust you to take good care of her, Fitzwilliam!”

“Of course I will.”

/

It was, as Richard had said, a lovely day. Rabbit-tail puffs of cloud dotted the sky, and a light pleasant breeze wafted by every so often. The drone of insects hiding in the lush emerald grass or canvassing the profusion of flowers for pollen hummed on the edge of hearing, punctuated occasionally by bird song. A squirrel ran out along a low-hanging branch of a chestnut to watch them pass by, scolding furiously before flinging itself through the air to the oak across the way.

“How are you, Anne?” Richard asked, breaking the silence between them.

Anne de Bourgh directed the ponies to turn onto the road which would drive them past a large pond and said, rather drearily, “I am well enough, I suppose.”

“How is your health?”

Anne shrugged and said, “I am generally better in summer than winter. I am never entirely well, but I have grown accustomed to the reality that my constitution is a sickly one. What of you, Richard? Will you return to the Continent soon?”

The colonel considered for a moment and then said, “Would you be willing to pull over under that elm tree yonder? I have an important matter to discuss, and would prefer to do so when you are not distracted by driving your ponies.”

Anne cast him a curious look and nodded. “Yes, though in truth, the ponies know the way so well that they could make their way back to the stable without instruction. But I certainly relish the opportunity to spend more time away from the house.”

She expertly directed the ponies to guide the phaeton under the spreading tree, which was in turn some fifteen feet from the small lake. The breeze which rippled over the waters was cool, and both the gentleman and lady enjoyed the wind on their hot cheeks as Anne pulled the ponies to a halt.

“Well, Richard, what is it?” the lady inquired.

The colonel deliberated for a moment and then decided that it would be kinder to be blunt. “Darcy is engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Anne’s faded blue eyes widened in shock, and for a full minute she merely stared in amazement. Then, her eyes crinkled a little and a slow smile appeared on her face. “I suspected that Darcy was in love with Miss Bennet because he talked to her whenever possible, and stared at her the rest of the time, though I thought him too proud to actually offer for her.”

“You are insightful,” Fitzwilliam said, observing her narrowly. “I can only assume that Lady Catherine was entirely unaware of the way the wind blew or...”

He trailed off, and Anne chuckled and said, “She would have expressed herself with her usual sincerity and frankness? No, my mother has no idea at all.”

“You do not look upset,” Richard said tentatively.

The lady waved a thin hand and declared, “I am sickly, Richard, not a fool. If Darcy wished to marry me, he would have done so years ago, when I was a little healthier and more likely to bear an heir. No, it is no surprise, though I confess that I am uneasy about my mother’s response when she hears the news. She will be very unhappy, and when she is unhappy, she seems to feel it incumbent upon herself to make everyone else unhappy as well.”

The colonel hesitated and then said carefully, “I have no doubt it will be uncomfortable for some time, but there is no reason why you must be here, you know. My parents would be very pleased to welcome you as their guest at Matlock House.”

Anne sighed and said, “That is kind, but my mother will not allow it.”

“With due respect, she cannot prevent you. You are of age.”

“I cannot stand against her, Richard,” Anne said in a despairing voice. “I am unhealthy and weak, and she has always dominated me.”

“Then let me stand against her on your behalf,” the military man cried out, suddenly fervent. “Anne, I have long been fond of you, and with Darcy engaged to another, I wondered if, perhaps...”

This provoked a startled expression on Miss de Bourgh’s face, followed by a tinge of genuine color on her pale cheeks. “What are you saying, Richard?”

“Will you marry me, Anne? As I said, I care for you, though I will not pretend to passionately love you. I will be honest; I wish to leave my military life and would like to marry a wealthy woman like yourself. I know that sounds ... business-like, but it is the truth, and I would not care to make false protestations. But I do believe we are compatible, Cousin, and that we would be content with one another, and perhaps more.”

Anne’s face had grown more animated and joyful throughout this dialogue but now an unhappy thought struck her. “Oh, Richard, I would like that above all things! I like you too, very much, and you are strong enough to cope with my mother. But she would never permit me to marry you; indeed, she might well lock me up if I agreed to your offer, and the servants obey her, not me.”

The colonel grinned and said, “If that is a concern, I beg that you will set it aside. Your mother lives a regimented life, and I know her schedule well. I can arrive late one night, carry you and your maid away, and we will marry by special license before Lady Catherine knows what is happening. Does that sound agreeable, or is it too clandestine for you?”

Anne de Bourgh laughed aloud and threw her arms around her cousin. “She will be absolutely enraged, and I will not care in the least. Yes, Richard, I accept your offer!”