Chapter 3

Dec. 23 rd , 1812

“Miss de Bourgh,” a male voice cried out, his bass voice throbbing in anguish, “I felt I must come immediately to express my sorrow over the horrors of what has come to pass.”

Anne, who had been speaking softly to Mrs. Jenkinson in the parlor about her latest novel, looked up and sighed openly. As she had anticipated, Mr. Collins had rushed to Netherfield within a day of hearing of Elizabeth’s marriage to Mr. Darcy.

Anne rose to her feet. “Mr. Collins, good morning. Mrs. Collins, it is lovely to see you again.”

She was careful to infuse warmth into her tone when she addressed Mrs. Collins; Charlotte Collins was a sensible woman who had the misfortune to be married to a dullard. But the woman had accepted Mr. Collins’s offer with her eyes wide open and was now mistress of the former Bennet estate of Longbourn, so presumably the lady was pleased enough with her life.

“Miss de Bourgh,” Mrs. Collins replied with a courteous nod, “it is so very good to see you. I hope you are well?”

“How can Miss de Bourgh possibly be well?” Collins demanded dramatically. “Her promised bridegroom cast her aside and married someone who is not worthy! I am truly horrified, I assure you, that a woman related to me by blood would do such a thing, Miss de Bourgh. I intend to scold my cousin Elizabeth most firmly.”

Anne glanced briefly at Mrs. Collins and was sorry to see the lady’s face turning crimson with shame. She loathed the master of Longbourn, but his wife did not deserve to stand by while her husband made a fool of himself.

“My dear sir,” Anne said cheerfully, “please do sit down along with your lovely wife. No, Mr. Collins, I beg you will not berate Mrs. Darcy in any way; I am enormously grateful to her. I had no desire to marry my cousin, Darcy, after all.”

Collins stared at her as if he had seen a specter, his florid face paling in shock at these treasonous words. “But ... but your mother assured me that ... that you and Mr. Darcy were ... were affianced from your cradles ...”

“Oh, that was entirely my mother’s idea,” Anne assured the couple mendaciously. To her companion’s questioning look, she replied, “Yes, Mrs. Jenkinson, I believe we would appreciate tea. Thank you. No, Mr. Collins, I hope I appreciate Darcy appropriately, but he is such a tall, grim fellow after all, and I had no desire to marry him. To be entirely honest, I have no desire to marry at all and attempt to bear a child. I fear I would die in childbirth with much groaning and writhing, and that would be a most unpleasant way to end my days.”

Collins’s eyes bugged out in horror at this extremely improper speech, and Charlotte’s face twisted oddly before shifting into what was most definitely a tiny smirk.

“Well,” Mrs. Collins said with a twinkle in her eye, “it is indeed a wonderful thing that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth are happily married. I am certain the entire family is pleased that he is well settled.”

“Yes, I am overjoyed to see Mr. Darcy so happy. He and Elizabeth are a most compatible couple. Mrs. Darcy made quite a hit at a small dinner party only last week at Matlock House,” Anne commented as a maid entered the room with a tea tray. “Lord and Lady Matlock have agreed to sponsor Mrs. Darcy at a private ball in the spring. All of London society will be there, I am certain. It will be quite a crush!”

“But, but, Lady Catherine!” Mr. Collins nearly shrieked. “She certainly cannot be pleased that your cousin, the master of Pemberley, lowered himself to marry my cousin Elizabeth.”

“No, no, she is not pleased at all,” Anne agreed sunnily. “You like your tea with two lumps of sugar, do you not, Mr. Collins? No, Lady Catherine was entirely outraged over the marriage but that hardly matters, does it? My mother is hardly God Almighty Himself! Indeed, she is merely an autocratic old woman who believes herself far more important than she actually is. One lump, Mrs. Collins?”

“Yes, thank you,” Charlotte agreed slightly breathlessly, refusing to glance at her husband. “I ... do not know if you have heard the news, Miss de Bourgh, but Mr. Collins and I are expecting a child ourselves.”

“How marvelous,” Anne replied genuinely, demurely sipping her tea as Mr. Collins gaped at her, his expression that of a particularly bewildered trout that could not remember how to breathe.