Page 72 of Christmases at Pemberley

Ten Days Later

Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, leaned back against the squabs of his carriage and groaned loudly. It was early, and a light mist covered the road and fields as the vehicle carried its occupants toward London.

“You will see Miss Bennet in London shortly,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said kindly.

Darcy ran his hands through his hair and said, “Yes, I know, and I am grateful, but what an incredible nightmare this has been! Rain every other day, the ground far too wet for walking, Lady Catherine wanting us both to dance attendance on her, and poor Anne ill with a cold, but naturally our aunt would not let her daughter rest since I was in residence, and Lady Catherine interfering on those three occasions when the party from the parsonage was invited over for tea or dinner. It is enough to drive me entirely mad!”

“It was rather maddening,” Richard agreed sympathetically.

“And now we have to return to London early because of this boundary dispute with Lord Wiltshire. Given that the man is an absentee landlord, it seems a most egregious time for him to decide that he owns that field in the southwest corner of Rosings. And why do we have to deal with it? I ask you, why?”

The colonel forced himself not to laugh at his cousin, who was obviously in the throes of genuine distress.

“Lady Catherine would not do well discussing this matter with the solicitors,” he said diplomatically.

A small smile formed on Darcy’s lips, and he conceded, “You are correct, of course. Lady Catherine would merely yell and insist that Lord Wiltshire is wrong, and while I believe he is in error, it is necessary to consult the surveyor’s maps. Shouting will not prove anything.”

The carriage turned onto the main road and Darcy leaned against the window, hoping for one last glimpse of the parsonage where his adored Elizabeth was staying for another week.

“You will see her soon,” the colonel said again.