Page 30 of Darcy in Distress (Pride and Prejudice Variation #17)
Lady Catherine peered at her daughter and said impatiently. “What did you say, Anne? Come along, now! As horrible, as tragic, as unconscionable as it is, our own relations, those of our blood, want nothing to do with us.”
Here Anne swallowed hard and looked toward Wickham, who had his wife’s small hand in his own larger one. Anne lifted her chin and said, “I have been assured that I am welcome here, Mother, though you are correct that you are not. Furthermore...”
“Lady Catherine,” George Wickham said with glacial courtesy.
“It is my honor and pleasure to inform you that less than an hour ago, using the special license you provided, your daughter Anne and I were joined in Holy Matrimony. Bingley has graciously offered us his hospitality here at Netherfield for as long as we wish, and therefore...”
“What?!” Lady Catherine shrieked, having overcome her brief period of stupefaction.
“George and I are married, Mother,” Anne said, sidling closer to Wickham. “I despise living at Rosings under your rule, and after discussing the matter with my friends and family, I decided to become Mrs. Wickham. Thus, according to my father’s will, Mr. Wickham is now master of Rosings! ”
Lady Catherine looked around at the assembled individuals in a daze of confusion, dismay, and incredulity.
“You ... you cannot be serious,” she said in a decidedly unsteady voice. “Wickham is merely the son of a steward. He is not worthy to be master of Rosings! You must be mad!”
Anne’s eyes flamed with anger, but Wickham merely drew her closer to himself and said, “In many ways, you speak the truth, Lady Catherine. My father was a steward, and I am only a solicitor. Nonetheless, legally, I am now married to your daughter. I have pledged to honor, respect, and care for her, and my first action will be to take control of Rosings on her behalf, and send you to the Dower House. Your reign is over, Lady Catherine.”
The now former mistress of Rosings opened her mouth to yell, to scream, to protest, but nothing came out.
This could not be happening. It could not.
It must be some sort of horrible dream. Not that she had ever, in all her life, had a nightmare like this one.
It was entirely absurd that Anne would marry a mere servant’s son in order to gain the control of the estate.
Why would Anne reject her when everything Lady Catherine had ever done was for her daughter.
Everything! It was Darcy’s fault for going through a wedding ceremony with that Bennet hoyden.
It was Mr. Bennet’s fault for not agreeing to annul their ridiculous marriage.
It was George Wickham’s fault for reaching so high above his sphere.
It was Darcy’s fault for allowing her precious daughter to marry a pathetic commoner. It was…
“Lady Catherine, what is the matter?” Mr. Collins asked.
She shook her head and looked around in confusion.
She was outside Netherfield now – how had that happened?
She turned her head both ways; Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were flanking her, their strong hands half pushing her, half carrying her, toward her carriage.
Mr. Collins stood at the door of the carriage, his homely face twisted in an odd mixture of concern and fear.
Why fear?
“You will not be able to reach Rosings today,” Fitzwilliam Darcy told Lady Catherine’s coachman. “Drive your mistress to the de Bourgh house in London.”
“Yes, sir,” the coachman replied stolidly.
Lady Catherine, still unable to speak, found herself lifted into the carriage, where she collapsed onto the padded seat facing forward.
Outside the carriage, she heard Darcy’s cool voice saying, “Mr. Collins, I suggest that you refrain from returning either to Longbourn or Netherfield until you are specifically invited.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” the clergyman said in a shaking voice, and Lady Catherine remembered, abstractedly, that Darcy had punched Collins a few hours ago .
The pudgy rector climbed into the carriage and sat down on the seat facing his patroness. Seconds later, the carriage jolted into motion.
Lady Catherine stared vacantly out the window toward Netherfield, toward her daughter who had betrayed her, to the end of all her hopes and dreams.
How had it come to this?
/
Darcy House
London
The Earl of Matlock picked up a handsome blue and white Chinese vase from a small table and threw it violently against the floor of the vestibule, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.
Most of his lackeys cringed, but Aaron, who had organized the raid which had captured Lady Anne from Netherfield Hall, kept his back straight and his face calm. “What would you wish for us to do, my lord?”
Lord Matlock looked around with furious hopelessness. He and his men had searched Darcy House from top to bottom. They had interviewed the servants. They had carefully inspected the stables. There was no sign that Lady Anne, Cecil, or the nurse Deborah had been to Darcy House today.
He had allowed himself to have the wool pulled over his eyes, and by his own son, who had loudly ordered the carriage to go to Darcy House, but then, it seems, had ordered the coachman to drive elsewhere.
He began swearing with increasing fervor and originality.
With Lady Anne gone, he no longer had any hold over Darcy.
His only hope was that Richard had already married Georgiana but, he admitted to himself, that was a rather forlorn hope.
Richard had seemed disinterested in such a step, though Matlock had promised a substantial reward to his second son.
His children were fools.
Suddenly exhausted, he lapsed into silence for a moment, shook his head and said, “We will return to Matlock House, and I will think on the matter.”
“Yes, my lord,” Aaron said.
/
Netherfield Hal l
“It has been a most unusual day,” Louisa Hurst declared, which garnered a few smiles from the others in the drawing room.
Dinner had been late, and a hasty affair, and the occupants of the house had eschewed the separation of the sexes and were back in the drawing room, the site of two weddings and several noisy confrontations.
She smiled back at them and then continued, “In the midst of all the excitement today, I spoke with the housekeeper, and we have arranged for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy to inhabit a suite of rooms on the east end, and Mr. and Mrs. Wickham to dwell in a similar suite at the opposite end of the corridor. I hope that is agreeable with you all?”
Elizabeth looked up at Darcy and found him looking back at her, his brown eyes brimming with love.
“Yes, Mrs. Hurst,” Elizabeth said, her own heart beating faster. “That would be most agreeable.”
/
“Wickham, congratulations,” Darcy said, reaching out to shake his friend’s hand. The two men had climbed the stairway side by side, but were now at the top, preparing to join their respective brides.
“Thank you, Darcy,” Wickham answered, returning his friend’s handshake with fervor. “I am most grateful for your friendship and your gracious account of my good character, which has brought me to this place.”
“I spoke nothing but the truth,” Darcy said. “I do urge you to be ... gentle with your bride. Anne has been in poor health for many years.”
Wickham stared directly into Darcy’s eyes and said, “I promise you that I will be most cautious with this woman whom I have sworn to protect.”
“Thank you, Wickham.”
/
“Mrs. Darcy? May I come in?”
Elizabeth, who was seated at a small dressing table in her assigned bedchamber, looked up in surprise and said, “Yes, of course, Mrs. Hurst.”
Louisa Hurst entered and scanned the room rapidly, then relaxed.
Given the mayhem and disruption of the day, she had worried that the servants might have prepared the wrong guest chambers, or missed something of vital import.
But no, the fire was burning, the water pitcher and cup were at the ready, and Mrs. Darcy’s clothing had been neatly put away.
“Rachel, be so good as to give me a few minutes of privacy with Mrs. Darcy,” Louisa said to the maid who had helped Elizabeth out of her dress and into a robe, and was now removing pins from Elizabeth’s luxurious hair.
Rachel nodded and scurried out the door obediently. Louisa waited until the door was shut before turning back to Elizabeth, who regarded her with some surprise.
“I do apologize for interrupting you,” Louisa said, taking a seat in a delicate wooden chair across from her guest.
“Not at all, Mrs. Hurst,” Elizabeth said politely. “Is there something with which I can assist you?”
Louisa bit her lip and lowered her gaze to the blue and green carpet.
“No, I came here with a willingness to assist you, Mrs. Darcy. Your marriage was a hasty affair, though I think you are a perfect match for Mr. Darcy, but it occurred to me that you have not, ah, had the opportunity to speak to your mother about the wedding night.”
Elizabeth blushed at these words and involuntarily chuckled, which caused Mrs. Hurst to lift her eyes in surprise .
“Mrs. Hurst, you are marvelous,” Elizabeth said fervently. “It is most kind of you to visit me on such a delicate topic. However, Longbourn has a home farm, and in my younger years, I spent many a happy hour around the animals so I am quite aware of…”
She trailed off, blushing brighter, but Mrs. Hurst only smiled and said with approval, “Your mother is a wise woman to speak of such things to you, Mrs. Darcy; many a girl is entirely unaware of such practical matters when she is wed.”
“It is my aunt Gardiner in London who told me,” Elizabeth confessed. “My mother was horrified at my questions, so I waited for my aunt to visit. She and my uncle have a very happy marriage, and she spoke to both me and Jane on the matter of intimacy.”
“Then I will leave you and speak to the new Mrs. Wickham,” Louisa said, rising to her feet. “Mrs. Darcy, I truly believe you and your husband will be happy together in every part of life, including your more intimate moments.”
And Elizabeth, thinking of her husband’s tall form, and handsome features, and the passion in his eyes, could only agree.
/
Anne Wickham jumped as the door leading to her sitting room opened and her husband, still dressed in his day apparel, appeared.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to sit up straight, though her heart was beating so quickly that she felt faint.
Her meeting with Louisa Hurst had been terrifying.
She had, of course, wondered how pregnancy occurred, but her mother had absolutely refused to tell her anything …
“Anne, might I speak with you?” George asked gently.
She nodded, though her face was rigid with anxiety.
George walked over and lowered himself onto a chair a few feet away from his new bride. “Anne, according to Darcy, you have been unwell for many years. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Anne agreed timidly, her eyes wet. “I have been sickly for as long as I can remember, and I generally feel worse when I see Doctor Watts, not better.”
“Lady Anne suffered under the care of incompetent and even harmful treatments for years,” George said.
“I have high hopes that with a new doctor, and with time away from your mother, your health will improve. I believe, however, that given your current situation, we ought not to take any action which might result in a pregnancy now. ”
Anne heaved out a deep sigh of relief, which provoked a smile from her husband.
“Thank you, Mr. Wickham. I confess that I…”
She trailed away and George said reassuringly, “We will take as long as you need, Anne. I woke up this morning with no expectation of marriage, and now I am the legal master of an estate and the husband of an exceptional wife. I hope that in time, you will be well enough to have a child, but for now, let us focus on your health and learning about one another.”
Anne could not help but weep at these kind words. Her mother would never dream of giving up her own desires to keep Anne safe. She had chosen a good husband.
/
Elizabeth woke up to the sounds of roosters crowing loudly. For a moment, she was confused; the poultry house was not near her bedchamber. Could the roosters have escaped?
Then her memory returned. She was at Netherfield, not Longbourn. She was Mrs. Darcy, not Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She was mistress of Pemberley, no longer the single daughter of a country gentleman.
She rolled over and peered into the near darkness, her eyes gradually picking out the form of her husband, who had decided, with her hearty encouragement, to spend the night with her. His breathing was deep and steady, so he must still be asleep.
She wiggled a little closer to Darcy and put her arm over his sleeping form, her lips stretched into a sleepy smile.
Mrs. Hurst was entirely correct. She and Darcy were very compatible.