Chapter 2

Anne shook off the last vestiges of her nap and paused at the entrance of the Netherfield parlor in order to gaze inside curiously.

It was a tableau to warm the heart of an artist, composed as it was of two couches, each of which was occupied by a gentleman and lady. Near the door, with her back to Anne, Georgiana was seated in front of an easel. She was sketching one of the couples with quick, confident strokes using pencils.

Anne could hardly fault Georgiana for her choice of subjects. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were a truly handsome couple and the ardent look of adoration in Mr. Bingley’s eyes as he gazed on his lovely wife caused a slight pang in the chest of Anne. It was unlikely that she would ever marry, and even if she did, she would doubtless be most attractive because of her wealth, not her looks and personality. Mrs. Bingley, formerly Miss Jane Bennet, was of quite startling beauty, which was only accentuated by the swell in her abdomen signaling the presence of new life. She was also a welcoming and pleasant lady.

The woman on the other couch was not quite as conventionally handsome, but she was still lovely in her own right. Mr. Darcy, Anne’s cousin and Georgiana’s brother, was not prone to gazing adoringly at his bride, but it was clear that the tall, rich master of Pemberley was indeed very much in love with his new wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. The couple were huddled close together looking at a book, which based on its cover was concerned with Renaissance art.

Anne suppressed a tiny sigh. They all looked very happy together, and she was happy for them, but she also felt slightly left out. She shook herself inwardly. She was a novelist and would always be ‘outside’ to some degree. There was nothing to repine over her lot in life.

“Miss de Bourgh!” Jane Bingley cried out suddenly, her lovely eyes fixed on Anne’s face. “Oh, I apologize, I did not see you! Please do come in and take a chair near the fire. It is quite chilly.”

Anne obediently walked through the sitting room to the chair nearest the fire and sank into it thankfully. She was indeed quite cold. Netherfield Hall had been largely shut up the last two weeks, and while the fires were no doubt roaring away in the various rooms, it would take some time for the interior to heat.

“I hope you and Mrs. Jenkinson are pleased with your rooms?” Mrs. Bingley inquired genuinely.

And that was another thing. Anne had not heard all the details of the Bennets’ painful story, but after Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy’s father died, the Bennet women had been thrown from their home of Longbourn by their father’s heir, the former rector of Hunsford, Mr. Collins.

The Bennet mother and five daughters, left effectively impecunious after the death of Mr. Bennet, had been scattered to the four winds. Jane had, before her marriage to the wealthy Mr. Bingley, been a companion to a spoiled heiress in London. Elizabeth, taken in by a clergyman and his wife, had found herself doing substantial domestic work when her friend had been confined to bed during a difficult pregnancy. Both Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy thus had experience with the harder aspects of life, and they always showed a deep concern for servants, underlings and companions like Mrs. Jenkinson. The latter had been Anne’s companion for many years and was treated with casual indifference by most upper class individuals. The eldest former Bennet women, on the other hand, always treated Mrs. Jenkinson and her counterpart Mrs. Annesley with tender respect.

“Thank you,” Anne replied a trifle belatedly. “Mrs. Jenkinson is indeed very pleased with her room. She is lying down for a brief nap but I expect will be down shortly.”

“There is no hurry on our side,” Elizabeth commented cheerfully. “Dinner will be a little late, I fear, as my mother and two youngest sisters traveled to Meryton this afternoon and might be back rather late.”

Anne cast a startled look outside the nearest parlor window. The afternoon was chilly with a very brisk wind, and hardly the best day to visit, especially given that the Bennets had only traveled from London yesterday evening. There was much to do at Netherfield as the Bingleys were giving up the lease on the estate, and the remaining Bennet women would be leaving Netherfield after the new year.

“Our mother wishes to tell everyone of Lizzy’s marriage to Mr. Darcy as quickly as possible,” Jane Bingley explained placidly. “Lizzy has captured the prize of Derbyshire, and Mother intends to tell everyone she meets of her daughter’s triumph.”

Anne glanced at Darcy and was delighted to see him blush slightly.

“I agree that Darcy is indeed a prize,” she commented in amusement, “but so is his bride. I do believe Mrs. Darcy to be your perfect match, Cousin.”

The look that Darcy bestowed on Elizabeth was, yes, positively adoring. Really, her cousin had changed substantially, and all for the better. He had always been hardworking and diligent, but rarely joyful. Elizabeth Darcy had brought out hidden depths of good cheer and even occasional frivolity.

“Mr. Collins will hear the news soon,” Mrs. Bingley mused suddenly. “I daresay he will not be pleased.”

“Mr. Collins is your cousin and the heir to Longbourn?” Georgiana asked curiously, her hand quickly sketching Mr. Bingley’s waistcoat.

“Yes, and he is an utter fool,” Anne de Bourgh stated dispassionately.

Georgiana looked up at this, her heart-shaped face flushing pink at these bold words.

“He is indeed,” Elizabeth Darcy agreed with a laugh. “A complete fool. Fortunately, his wife is an old and dear friend who is able to steer him in the right direction much of the time, at least as long as ...”

She trailed away as she glanced at Anne.

“At least as long as Mr. Collins is not operating on orders from my mother, yes,” Anne continued with a groan. “He venerates my mother and her so-called wisdom into the realms of complete absurdity. I assure you that my mother knows nothing practical about keeping chickens, but I was forced to listen to an hour long lecture from her on poultry when Mr. and Mrs. Collins were last to dinner at Rosings.”

There was a communal chuckle at this, and Georgiana relaxed enough to continue sketching. “I find Lady Catherine rather intimidating, to be truthful; perhaps it is not surprising that Mr. Collins venerates my aunt.”

“It is not surprising, but it is exceptionally tedious,” Elizabeth commented decidedly. “It hardly matters, though; he can no longer harm any of us, and his championship of Lady Catherine matters not a whit.”

“Nor is it likely we will see him,” Jane Bingley pointed out. “We will not be inviting Mr. and Mrs. Collins to Netherfield Hall, after all, and he will hardly call.”

Anne shifted a little closer to the fire and chose not to comment. She had no such confidence that Mr. Collins had the wisdom to stay away from the woman who had dared to disobey Lady Catherine de Bourgh.