Chapter 55

Anne entered her cousin Darcy’s library with trepidation, clutching at the acorn-embroidered handkerchief with a panicked grip, steeling herself for what was to come. From her bedroom window, she had watched a grim Mr Bingley putting a weeping Miss Bingley into a carriage; she had seen him kiss the cheek of Miss Bennet and clutch both her hands for a long moment before getting into the carriage himself and departing in a cloud of dust.

Was all discovered? It was a blessing, she supposed, that she had not a long wait to find out.

To her astonishment, Darcy was not alone—and it was not the earl who was seated beside him upon the sofa nearest the fireplace. Miss Elizabeth! What could she be doing here?

Then she remembered leaving her in that cold attic, alone. Probably she had heard both Miss Bingley’s voice and her own. She must be here to denounce her.

Darcy stood, murmured a greeting, and directed her to a chair across from them. Then he returned to his seat beside Miss Elizabeth, taking her hand within his own. She gasped, unable to take her eyes off those joined hands.

“I have a matter to discuss with you, Anne,” he said. “But first, I shall inform you that I have asked Miss Elizabeth to marry me, and she has finally agreed.”

Shock loosened her tongue. “That is impossible!” she cried.

His look grew stern. “I assure you—it is not at all impossible. It is fact. The earl and I will inform your mother shortly.”

“B-but…she has no family! No connexions! No one even knows who she is! She is—she is poor!”

He opened his mouth to speak, his expression darkening, but Miss Elizabeth was first.

“There are other considerations besides fortune, Miss de Bourgh. Your cousin is one of those very few, very rare men who can see possibilities beyond it.”

What will Mama do when she hears?“Mama will not like this,” Anne said with massive understatement, turning to the impoverished girl who, incredibly, had won an impossible prize. One thing was certain—her mother would not let these matters rest. “It might be better if you went away for a time. Somewhere she cannot find you.”

Miss Elizabeth only smiled, but not contemptuously, although Darcy was frowning ferociously.

“We wished you to hear the news first-hand, and we hope you will remain at Pemberley for the wedding,” Miss Elizabeth added.

The lady would never understand how difficult that request might be to fulfil. If she defied Mama, she might be put on improving tonics for a month.

“I will think on it,” Anne replied at last.

“Think carefully,” Darcy said, his voice growing sterner. “I will not blame Miss Bingley for all the mischief. I am aware of your ill-advised behaviour, Anne. I will not tolerate another instance of disrespect for my betrothed.”

Anne’s eyes widened. She resisted the urge to run from the room.

“I would like you to explain this.”

For the first time, she noticed the papers on the low table before them. Darcy withdrew one from the stack and turned it to face her. She nearly fainted when she saw what it was.

“I-I…” she stuttered. Had Miss Bingley confessed all? Had she, even,blamed me?

“Did you know that Miss Bingley intended to write to Mr Pennywithers?” he asked grimly.

Anne struggled to draw breath. “I did not know…I mean, she said she might, but she says so many things, I did not know she truly meant to until—until af-after she posted it. I did not know what to do! I only thought to undo whatever she s-said, to make it seem a lark,” she finished weakly.

“Did you know she locked Elizabeth in the attic?”

She froze.

“Was it your idea to inebriate Elizabeth by serving her alcohol-laced lemonade without her knowledge?”

This was it, then. She was done, to be banished to Kent forever without reprieve.

Miserably she nodded, looking down, unable to face them any longer. But she could not avoid seeing that there were other letters lying on the table before them, all addressed to Mr Pennywithers. And the one on top, facing her, was written in a very familiar hand.

“Why is Jenkinson writing to Mr Pennywithers?” she blurted.