Page 32 of I Thee Wed (Pride And Prejudice Variation #2)

Darcy stood at the window of his study, Lady Catherine’s letter in hand.

The missive was, as usual, full of grievances, this time concerning the state of Rosings Park.

Two chimneys smoked intolerably, and she demanded his immediate attention.

He rang the bell and bade the servant send Georgiana to him.

“My dear,” he said when she entered, “I must pay Aunt Catherine a short visit. The chimneys at Rosings will not wait. I shall be in Kent for two to four weeks only. You will remain with Aunt Helen and Uncle Henry. I had hoped to meet your new art master, but this cannot be helped.”

Georgiana’s brow furrowed. “I hope Aunt Catherine is not too difficult, Fitzwilliam. She always finds something to complain about.”

Darcy smiled. “Never mind, Georgie. Her distempers don’t affect me.”

She smiled, and he added, “Have Jenny pack your trunk. I will drive you to Matlock House myself.” “Yes, brother.” Georgiana left to begin her packing, and Darcy returned to his desk.

He had written three letters: one to Aunt Helen, another to Richard, and the last to Lady Catherine.

That final letter was brief. He informed his aunt of his imminent arrival and requested rooms for both himself and Richard.

He held Lady Catherine’s letter in his hand.

She had written about the Bennet sisters, who were to remain in Kent for several months to assist the rector and his wife in revitalizing the church.

Darcy realized, with some surprise, that he was nervous.

However, there was also a sense of anticipation; he was eager for this visit to Kent, and he knew he would seek out Elizabeth.

Darcy mused over the letter. Elizabeth and Kitty were to help the new rector, and his aunt hoped they would not unsettle her parishioners. Darcy could not help but smile. If anyone in Kent was likely to disturb the peace, it was Lady Catherine herself.

Later that evening, as they waited for dinner, Richard Fitzwilliam strode in unannounced. Georgiana ran to him.

“Richard! I thought you were abroad for the next two years!”

He grinned, lifting her from the floor. “And I was, Georgie. But the General recalled me, and I am to remain in England to establish a training program for intelligence agents. I report back in twelve weeks, but for now, I am on leave. Play my favorite sonata for me, will you, sweetling?”

“Anything for you, Richard.” Georgiana moved to the instrument and seated herself to play.

He turned to Darcy. “So, you will have me squander my precious freedom at Rosings Park, listening to our aunt catalogue the failures of her servants?”

Darcy chuckled. “I had hoped for your company. It is difficult to remain at Rosings for any length of time unless one brings an amusing guest to break the monotony.”

Richard laughed. “Darcy, you are fortunate that I consider you a close friend. Otherwise, I should remain in London with my club, my fencing partners, and the occasional ball in pursuit of an heiress.”

Darcy regarded him. “So you are considering marriage? Since when?”

Richard poured himself a glass of port. “I am. I had just secured important connections abroad, and now I am pulled back. They want me to train teams of agents, husbands and wives together, or single men paired with female agents. Apparently, being in a married state will inspire less suspicion. I am not certain the generals have ever been married themselves, or they would know that a quarrelling couple is more conspicuous than a bachelor. I have grown weary of the politics that govern this work. I long for a settled life, where I alone may determine my course, and not be shifted hither and yon at another man’s pleasure. ”

Changing the subject, Darcy chuckled and said, “If you require an heiress, why not consider Anne? She has forty-five thousand pounds now. I invested her thirty and increased it. She has Rosings besides.”

Richard nearly choked on his port. “Anne? My cousin? Darcy, if she is such a prize, why have you not secured her?”

Darcy’s expression sobered. “My father was firmly against it. He even set it down in his will. Were I to marry Anne, half my fortune would pass to Georgiana. He believed the family blood too frail. Both my mother and Lady Catherine lost every child except the three of us. He wished me to look elsewhere. Moreover…” Darcy paused.

“My heart is not whole. I could not do it to Anne. She deserves better than a husband without affection.”

Richard studied him. “Not whole? Since when? You were impervious in June before I left. Who has undone you?”

Darcy looked down, abashed. “I scarcely wish to speak her name. Yet I cannot rid my thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who, at this very moment, is a guest at Hunsford Parsonage.”

Richard laughed aloud, clapping his cousin on the shoulder. “So, the mighty Fitzwilliam Darcy has been felled by a country girl with fine eyes. I suspected you had fallen that morning beneath the oaks on Oakham Mount.”

Darcy sighed. “It is not amusing. I can never have her, and knowing it makes me miserable.”

“Never?” Richard raised a brow. “Is she deformed, unable to birth an heir, or both?”

Darcy flushed. “Richard, you mock me.”

“Not at all. I only ask what fault disqualifies her. I recall her as beautiful, intelligent, and far from simpering. A rare woman indeed. What more do you want?”

Darcy frowned. “She is the daughter of a country gentleman with an inconsequential estate that is, moreover, entailed away from the female line.”

Richard shrugged. “The heir will take the Bennet name. She told me so herself. None needs to know more.”

Darcy shook his head. “She has an uncle in trade, and a mother who proclaims it to every stranger. The youngest sister is an elopement waiting to happen. The family is impossible.”

Richard grinned. “Yet Pembroke does not seem deterred. I hear he courts her openly. I heard him tell you at the ball that the vulgarities of the mother and the waywardness of the youngest can be managed. He sees no obstacles.”

Darcy sighed. “Yes. Pembroke believes Mrs. Bennet and her vulgar tongue may be disregarded, and that the youngest sister may be remediated at a school far removed from him. But there remains the matter of the Netherfield ball. And Elizabeth despises me for separating Bingley from her favorite sister; she told me so at her uncle’s house.

I accompanied Bingley to the Gardiners, and she was angry.

She told me plainly that had she been a man, she would have called me out.

Caroline wrote to her and confessed how she and I encouraged Bingley to part from Jane.

So now there are two marks against me. You may imagine how she must hate me now. ”

Richard chuckled. “So, you eclipsed your grand blunder, delivered directly to the lady herself and within earshot of half the ballroom, by thrusting yourself into a courtship where you had no business. And you did so with the knowledge, and most likely at the urging, of a jealous cat who would immediately wield it against you. Well done, cousin; you never do things by halves.”

Darcy groaned.

Richard poured another glass. “Very well. I shall accompany you to Rosings. Anne is five and twenty now. She always followed me about as a child. She is quiet, but I have affection for her. Perhaps I shall consider her more seriously. Rosings Park and forty-five thousand pounds are no trifling matter.”

Darcy gave a faint smile. “You may find her more agreeable than you think. I like Anne myself. She is not robust, yet she has sweetness. If you could care for her, you might be surprisingly happy.”

Richard raised his glass. “Then let us see what Kent brings. Rosings for me, Elizabeth for you, though I daresay Aunt Catherine will contrive to spoil both plans with her usual talent for meddling.”

The cousins exchanged a look of mutual resignation, each aware that Kent would prove far from tranquil.

Rosings Park was vast and square, looming above them against a pale October sky. Darcy sat easily upon his mount, yet his mind was not easy. Richard, astride his own horse, raised a brow.

“Cheer up, cousin. Perhaps matters will not prove as ill as you fear. Aunt Catherine will be her usual self, irritating and overbearing, but Miss Elizabeth may yet be brought around. If you would only practice restraint and refrain from saying everything that crosses your mind, you might even gain her forgiveness. I doubt this short visit will suffice to make her like you, but you may try for that as well.”

Darcy did not smile. He answered dryly, “You will regret your levity when Aunt Catherine begins reciting her complaints about the state of the parish.”

“True,” Richard admitted. “But I shall not be listening to her grievances, Darcy. Remember, we agreed that I am to court my cousin, and I shall be occupied in devising how that is to be managed. First, however, I must become acquainted with Cousin Anne. If I do not like her, I will not marry her, Darcy, and there will be an end to that scheme.”

Darcy laughed. “I wish I were more like you, Richard. You laugh at everything, and you let nothing weigh heavily enough to disturb your sleep.”

They rode on to the stables, and, as they walked back, they saw their carriage loaded with their trunks turning down the lane. Striding up the steps to the front entrance, they prepared to meet their hostess. After bathing and changing from their riding clothes, they waited upon Lady Catherine.

She was frowning. “You are both late. I detest being kept waiting.”

Darcy bowed. “My apologies, Aunt. We left London as early as possible.”

Richard bent gallantly and kissed her hand. “Dearest Aunt, you look remarkably well. Why do you languish in Kent, when all the pleasures of London society might be laid at your feet?”

Lady Catherine was flattered, though she only sniffed at her nephew.

“Idle flummery. I have important matters here. There are defects in the chimneys. Also, Mrs. Collins has taken in two of her sisters. Country girls. Miss Elizabeth and Miss Catherine Bennet. I hope they do not presume upon my notice.”

Richard’s eyes flickered toward Darcy, who betrayed no expression. “I am sure they will behave with the utmost propriety,” Darcy said evenly.

“Propriety?” Lady Catherine scoffed. “Women of their station rarely possess good breeding. But I shall wait and form my opinion when I meet them.”

The two cousins poured themselves a drink and settled near the fire.

Dinner was as expected, an excess of rich dishes.

Lady Catherine kept a French chef, and sauces were her chief delight.

Anne de Bourgh sat at her mother’s side, silent as always.

Richard stole several glances at her during the meal and was struck by her delicate features.

She was pale, yet pretty, with high cheekbones and a delicate heart-shaped face.

Looking from daughter to mother, he noted they shared the same striking bone structure.

Lady Catherine had been considered handsome in her youth, a diamond in her day, and Richard realized for the first time that his quiet cousin possessed a beauty of her own and might, in time, be judged handsome as well.

Yet Anne was too thin, and she scarcely ate.

He wondered if she were truly ill, as her aunt always said, or if she disliked French fare.

She did not speak of her own accord once during the meal.

Leaning toward her, he said softly, “Anne, I remember you as a child, trailing after us. And you used to play the pianoforte. Do you still?”

A faint blush touched her cheeks. “A little, cousin, but nothing worth hearing.”

Lady Catherine interjected at once. “Anne has a fine taste in music, but her health prevents her from practicing. If she did play, she would at least have the sense not to perform vulgar tunes, unlike some young women I could name.” She raised her brows with pointed significance before adding, “Cook informs me that the young ladies at the parsonage play and sing all day long, but she says their taste is not in the least refined.”

Darcy’s mouth twitched. Richard merely said, “I should be most happy to hear you play while I am here.”

Anne looked startled, then pleased. Lady Catherine beamed at the compliment as if she herself had been praised.

After dinner, when the gentlemen retired with their port, Richard leaned across the table. “Our cousin is shy, but she is sweet. I prefer quiet women to those who are brash. If only Aunt Catherine would stop speaking for her, she might reveal more of herself.”

Darcy nodded. “She is a woman of quality.”

Richard grinned. “And she has forty-five thousand pounds.”

Darcy groaned. “Trust you to reckon her dowry before her virtues.”

“Someone must,” Richard replied cheerfully. “Besides, if I am to endure Aunt Catherine’s company for three weeks, I must be allowed to console myself with mercenary calculations.”

“She has fine cheekbones, Richard. Oddly, we never remark upon Anne’s attractions.

Perhaps Lady Catherine stands too much in the way,” Darcy sipped his wine in silence, but his thoughts turned from Anne.

They were with a particular lady at Hunsford Parsonage, who would no doubt walk in the grove tomorrow morning.