Page 9 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

Once they were settled in the adjacent room, a cosy space with comfortable seating arranged near a cheerful fire, Anne seemed to struggle for words, her composure faltering slightly.

“I... I wished to thank you,” she finally managed.

“For your kindness since my arrival. And for... for treating me as though I have opinions worth considering.”

Elizabeth felt a rush of compassion for this young woman who had clearly spent a lifetime being talked over and decided for. “You need not thank me for basic courtesy, Anne. Your opinions are indeed worth considering, and I have found your insights thoughtful and perceptive.”

Anne’s gaze remained fixed on her hands, which had resumed their nervous clasping in her lap. “You are very kind to say so. But I... I fear I shall disappoint you. And my mother. And… everyone, really.”

“Disappoint us? In what way?” Elizabeth prompted gently.

“I know why my mother sent me to London,” Anne said, her voice gaining a slight edge that Elizabeth had never heard before.

“I am to secure a husband of appropriate rank and fortune, thereby fulfilling the destiny she has planned for me since birth. She was most explicit about it before we left Rosings.”

“And this prospect does not appeal to you?” Elizabeth guessed.

Anne’s shoulders slumped slightly. “It is not that I object to marriage itself. Indeed, I have often thought that a companionable marriage might be... pleasant. But the gentlemen my mother deems suitable are all so... that is, I believe they may be more concerned with consequence and position than in finding companionship with their wife.”

“You wish to be valued for yourself, not merely for your inheritance,” Elizabeth deduced.

“Yes,” Anne admitted, with a flash of something like relief at being understood.

“But I fear I am not... that is to say, I have little to recommend me beyond my fortune and connections. I am not accomplished like Georgiana, or lively like your sister. I have spent so much of my life being ill, or believing myself ill, that I hardly know who I am when not confined to a sofa with a shawl and a tray of healthful tonics.”

The naked vulnerability in this confession touched Elizabeth deeply. How terrible to reach the age of one and twenty without having been permitted to discover one’s own character and preferences.

“Anne,” she said gently, reaching out to still the nervous movement of the younger woman’s hands.

“You need not be anyone other than yourself. And from what I have observed, yourself is someone quite worth knowing. You have intelligence, sensitivity, and a quiet strength that is beginning to emerge now that you are given some freedom to express it.”

“Do you truly think so?” Anne asked, a desperate hope in her voice that made Elizabeth’s heart ache.

“I do,” Elizabeth assured her firmly. “And as for finding a suitable husband, perhaps we might redefine ‘suitable’ to mean a gentleman who values you for your mind and character, rather than merely for your fortune and connections.”

A flush of colour rose to Anne’s pale cheeks. “My mother would not approve.”

“Your mother has entrusted your Season to us,” Elizabeth reminded her, consciously echoing Lady Matlock’s words from earlier. “And while I have the greatest respect for Lady Catherine’s dedication to your welfare, I believe that your happiness must be the primary consideration in any match.”

Anne was silent for a long moment, absorbing this radical perspective. “I am still afraid,” she finally confessed. “What if no one wishes to dance with me? What if I cannot converse properly, or I become ill from the excitement? What if, after all this preparation, I fail completely?”

Elizabeth’s heart went out to the younger woman.

How much of Anne’s supposed fragility, she wondered, was the result of being told from childhood that she was incapable of normal exertion?

And how much was genuine physical delicacy?

It was impossible to know for certain, but Elizabeth was increasingly convinced that Anne’s health had been used as a tool to control her, whether intentionally or not.

“Anne,” she said firmly, “you cannot fail, because there is no test to pass. This Season is an opportunity for you to experience society, to meet new people, and perhaps to discover more about your own preferences and desires. Whether or not you secure a husband from it is entirely secondary to that purpose, at least in my view.”

Anne looked up, genuine surprise evident in her expression. “But my mother said...”

“Your mother and I differ somewhat in our priorities,” Elizabeth acknowledged with a smile.

“But I promise you this: regardless of how the Season unfolds, you will have the full support of your cousins. We will not judge your success by the number of proposals you receive or the rank of your dance partners, but by whether you find some enjoyment in the experience.”

A tentative smile touched Anne’s lips, there and gone so quickly Elizabeth might have missed it had she not been watching closely. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I shall try to remember that.”

“Excellent,” Elizabeth said, rising from her seat. “Now, shall we rejoin the others? I believe the time until dinner would be well spent discussing which gowns you young ladies intend to wear for Lady Matlock’s dinner party tomorrow evening.”

Later, as they prepared to go down to dinner, Elizabeth shared her observations with Darcy, who had spent the afternoon closeted with his uncle discussing estate matters.

“They seem to be forming a genuine friendship,” she concluded. “And I believe it will serve all three of them well as they face the scrutiny of society.”

“And if Anne can find the courage to assert her preferences in small matters like reading novels,” Darcy observed perceptively, “perhaps she may eventually find the strength to choose her own husband as well, regardless of her mother’s expectations.”

“That is my hope,” Elizabeth admitted. “Though I confess, I had not anticipated becoming quite so invested in your cousin’s future happiness when she was thrust upon us unexpectedly.”

Darcy’s expression softened as he regarded his wife. “You have a gift for seeing the potential in others, Elizabeth. It is one of the many reasons I love you.”

“Even when that gift leads me to interfere in matters that some might consider beyond my purview?” she asked, thinking of Lady Catherine’s dictates regarding Anne’s potential future husband.

“Especially then,” Darcy assured her, offering his arm to escort her downstairs. “You are never more charming than when you are plotting mischief.”

Elizabeth laughed softly as they descended the stairs together. “Mischief! I would never!” she claimed, pretending outrage.

“Oh, but you would, and I will love you all the more for it,” Darcy said, drawing her to a halt in the hall and kissing her with flagrant disregard for Harrison, waiting to open the drawing room door for them.

The butler discreetly gave them his back as Elizabeth blushed and laughed, not in the least displeased by her husband’s open display of affection.

As they entered the drawing room where the three young ladies awaited them, all dressed for dinner with evident care and conversing with animation, Elizabeth felt a surge of protective affection for these girls entrusted to her care.

Whatever the coming Season might bring, she was determined that each of them would emerge from it stronger, more confident, and more certain of her own worth than when it began.