Chapter 39

Rosings

Friday, 2nd September, 1812

The deep sage curtains had been pulled back from the window, and the sheer white drapes beneath as well, to let in all the sun. The whickering of horses drifted up along with birdsong, the glass of the window firmly closed against the smells from the stable below. Anne had always favored this sitting room, in part because it was Lady Catherine's least favorite – she had not enjoyed the view of the outbuildings of her estate where her servants worked and her horses lived. It was not a scene that, according to her, was appropriate for the eyes of a gently bred lady, and she only opened the parlor rarely when in great need.

Anne liked it. Her mother's heavy ostentatious hand had not landed on the furnishings here, unlike most of the other rooms, where Lady Catherine had spent exorbitant amounts on adding the latest fashions. This room boasted simpler oak wood, the polish slightly matte now, older fabric upholstery in the deep elegant color of old gold, while dusty green stripes lined the wallpaper and landscapes in dark wooden frames broke up the monotony. A vase of somewhat crumbling dried flowers sat over the mantle. Anne found it all very restful, a pleasant reprieve from the opulence of the rest of the house. Moreover, she dimly remembered that her father had been fond of this room – perhaps he liked it as an escape from his noisy wife – and she could almost imagine him sitting in the wingbacked chair by the fireplace, contentedly puffing on his pipe.

Anne detested the extensive gildings and outrageous carvings decorating every piece of furniture in her mother's preferred rooms. She had never been enamored of the Oriental style, and found tigers and dragons and bamboo carvings tiresome. Eventually, she would sell it all and replace it with something more to her own taste. But that would need to wait. Other priorities required Rosings' wealth long before any attention was paid to the cosmetics of the main house.

The steward had been almost speechless with amazement and relief upon learning that Anne and her husband wished to modernize the land. He had kept a list of tasks which he had no longer dared to present to Lady Catherine, which he had placed with profound gratitude into Anne's hand. At the top of the list were a great many repairs to tenant cottages and their grounds, fields that needed to have better drainage installed, and upkeep of fences and walls. Most of this year's income, and for several years following, would need to be plowed back into the grounds. Anne was determined to do it and live a much simpler lifestyle than her mother had preferred.

A knock at the door drew her attention, and she looked up as the butler stepped inside, balancing the silver platter, upon which rested a number of envelopes. "My lady," the butler said ponderously, presenting the mail, and Anne collected it onto the side table beside her.

"Thank you, Mr. Hutchins," she said with a smile, and the butler nodded gravely and retreated. It was a great relief to Anne that the servants had accepted her position as mistress of the house without hesitation. Her mother's personal maid was the only one who seemed horrified, but Anne had packed her off to London as quickly as possible to serve her mother at Matlock House, where Lady Catherine was living under the stern eye of the Earl of Matlock.

There were ten letters in her hands which, during her days as Anne de Bourgh, would have been ridiculous. Now, however, with the news spreading throughout the area that she had broken the bonds of her childhood and was now married and mistress of Rosings, all the local families were eagerly writing to her, inviting her to visit for dinner and expressing their delight at her ascension to the metaphorical throne of the largest estate in the area.

She quickly checked through the letters and found the sixth one was from her cousin Richard, who could be depended on not to fawn over her.

Netherfield Park

Hertfordshire

Dear Anne,

I am not certain if you heard the news that Darcy has married the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Given that you successfully married another, I am confident you are rejoicing as much as I am over such a union. She is a delightful lady, our new cousin by marriage, and has already done our dour cousin a great deal of good.

My mother sent me a letter about Lady Catherine's histrionics, and your arrival at the perfect time to let Darcy race back to Hertfordshire to see the lady he loves. She says Mr. Buckley is a fine man and is convinced you will be happy together.

I am also certain you will. For one thing, you are wise enough to pick a good husband. Secondly, having Rosings as your home without your autocratic, annoying mother dominating everyone can only be close to paradise!

I hope to see you soon. I am in the middle of something which might be a courtship, but I am not entirely confident of it. She is rich and beautiful and quite clever, and we will see how the battle unfolds.

With much love,

Richard Fitzilliam

"Is it good news, Anne?"

She looked up, surprised to find her husband standing near her with a cup of tea prepared exactly as she liked it, with plenty of milk and honey. That was another delightful change; Lady Catherine had always insisted she drink her tea plain because that was how Lady Catherine liked it – how dare her daughter prefer something else!

"It is," she replied, gratefully accepting the tea and gesturing toward the chair next to her. "It is a letter from my cousin Richard, and he tells me that my cousin Darcy is now married to the former Elizabeth Bennet."

Buckley chuckled, which provoked Anne to giggle, and then both were laughing with surprising abandon.

Once Evan had recovered sufficiently to speak, he said, "It is incredibly amusing that you chased your mother away by suggesting that Darcy was in love with Elizabeth Bennet, and you were accidentally correct!"

Anne tilted her head. "It was not truly accidental. I observed that Darcy watched Miss Bennet a great deal, but I genuinely did not imagine he would offer for her. He has been a stick in the mud for many years and is very aware of his own position in society. Miss Bennet – well, she is Elizabeth Darcy now and is doubtless very good for him. She is a charming, energetic young woman who is both clever and determined."

"I am glad for them," Evan replied with a smile, and she found herself returning the smile. Their marriage had been one primarily of convenience, but she did truly admire, respect, and like Evan, and with her mother's dark presence gone from Rosings, she felt a new thrill and enthusiasm about her future life. Perhaps one day she would feel healthy enough to birth a baby, and Rosings would be full of the sounds of childish laughter and eager activity.

/

Pemberley

"And these are the mistress's rooms, Mrs. Darcy," Mrs. Reynolds said, glancing around the bedchamber critically. It had, of course, been carefully swept and cleaned for the new mistress of Pemberley, but she could not help but check it again.

"It is delightful," Elizabeth remarked, looking about curiously.

"The hangings and furnishings are rather old-fashioned," Mrs. Reynolds said. "Nothing has been changed since dear Lady Anne passed on to her reward."

"She had excellent taste, however, and I like it very much. I may well wish for some changes eventually, but I am in no hurry to alter what has been here for many years."

Mrs. Reynolds nodded and could not help but beam with pleasure. It had only been a month since she had met the former Miss Bennet, when the lady and her aunt and uncle had toured the rooms available to the public. It was a shock, but a good one, when Mr. Darcy had written that he was married to the young woman. Mrs. Darcy was intelligent and kind and congenial, and there was no doubt her new husband loved her to the ends of the earth.

"Elizabeth? Ah, there you are."

"I am indeed, Fitzwilliam!" the new bride declared as her husband stepped into the room. "Mrs. Reynolds was showing me the mistress's suite of rooms."

"If you wish to change anything, you should," he said immediately.

"Thank you," she said sedately, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she continued, "For now, perhaps I could see the master's rooms?"

Darcy felt his face flush just a little and could not help but glance at Mrs. Reynolds, who merely smiled and said, "I need to speak to one of the maids about the … erm … the curtains…"

She bustled away, closing the door behind her, and Darcy swept forward and lifted his diminutive bride into his arms.

"You wish to see my bedchamber?" he asked.

"Very much," Elizabeth said breathlessly.

"Well," he continued, carrying her to the open door which led into another room, "this is our combined sitting room."

"It is very nice!"

"And this," he said, opening the door beyond, "is my bedchamber."

Elizabeth looked around at the room, which was large and masculine, with dark oak furniture and a carpet of blue and green.

"This is my wardrobe," her husband explained, tilting his head toward the mahogany piece which took up one corner of the room.

"It looks very well built," said his bride.

"This is one of the windows. It looks out over the rose garden."

"It is a truly lovely window, Fitzwilliam, with a glorious view."

"And this," he said, gently setting her down, "is the bed."

"It is," she agreed, and winked, "and we all know what a bed is good for."

"Yes, we do," he replied and grinned.