Page 40 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Twenty-One

“You are fortunate I was able to change my leave, Darcy. Mother will be pleased, for it means I shall spend Easter with her rather than remain in Kent.” Colonel Fitzwilliam tugged at his sleeves and looked out the carriage window.

“Now, remind me why we are leaving for Rosings nearly three weeks early.”

“Elizabeth is staying with her friend at Hunsford Parsonage.” Darcy quickly explained what he had learned.

“I intended to leave for Hertfordshire yesterday, but upon discovering she had come to Kent…well, I altered my plans. I only hope she will hear me long enough to permit an apology and beg her forgiveness.”

“Yes, you have quite the task ahead—groveling is so unbecoming in a Darcy, but I trust you shall manage it.” Richard grinned.

“Truly, it was masterful—a grand disappearance without so much as a word of explanation. Still, if Miss Elizabeth is even half as besotted as you are, she may take pity on your poor, tortured soul and forgive you. And if my suppositions are wrong, and she was , in fact, speaking of you, then you can retreat to Pemberley, lick your wounds, and compose mournful sonnets to the portrait of her you will no doubt hang in your study. By the bye, have you written to Bingley lately?”

Darcy laughed. “That will do, Richard. I take your meaning,” he said, still grinning with chagrin.

“As to Bingley, I had a letter from him yesterday. He is engaged to Miss Bennet and wishes me to stand up with him in May. I plan to write to him as soon as we arrive at Rosings and accept.” Darcy closed his eyes and pictured Elizabeth beside him, her hand in his as they exchanged vows.

I hope it is not too late. Without thinking, he reached up and traced the mottled skin of the scar, then the dark red blotch that discolored his visage.

“It will not disappear, no matter how often you touch it. Besides, you only draw attention to it when you do that.” Richard rolled his eyes and stretched his legs as far as the carriage allowed.

Crossing his ankles, he laced his fingers behind his head.

“How will you deal with our aunt? You know she will raise the matter of your marriage to Anne. Does Miss Elizabeth know the entire scheme is the invention of our aunt’s own making? ”

“She does. The topic arose while I was in Hertfordshire.” Darcy folded his hands and rested them in his lap, attempting to still his nervous movements. “Lady Catherine can bluster as she pleases. I will not marry Anne. Besides, our cousin has already told me she would refuse, were I to offer.”

“Did she, now?” Richard looked genuinely surprised. “Does she not wish to marry? Anne is not so sickly as our aunt claims. Anyone would appear frail if confined indoors at all times. The old gorgon is far too preoccupied with shielding her daughter’s face from the world.”

“Anne sneaks out in her phaeton on occasion,” Darcy murmured.

“Had our uncle not died so early in her life, I dare say she might have led a far happier existence.” Sir Lewis had died shortly before Anne’s sixteenth birthday.

The once cheerful child had become a shadow of her former self.

She never attended school, and her mother refused to allow visitors outside the family.

Darcy had heard her words on the subject often enough.

“ I cannot have anyone seeing that ghastly mark. ’Tis one thing for a man to bear it, but a lady?

Neither I nor my sister had such an ugly blemish.

I blame the weakness of the de Bourgh line.

You will have to marry her, Darcy, to spare her the criticism of the ton. ” It was dreadful.

“We ought to do something for her. She has been under our aunt’s control far too long.”

“Did I not tell you?” Richard sat up, grinning.

“I am under orders from my father to bring Anne back to town with us. Parliament keeps him there or he would come himself. How we shall manage it, I know not. Our dear cousin turned five-and-twenty in January. If we cannot take Anne away, then he will come for her in June.”

Darcy’s brow crept upward, his scar pulling slightly with the movement. “We shall have to spirit her away in the night. Aunt Catherine will never consent.”

“Anne can make her own decisions now. The estate is hers entirely since coming of age. Why do you suppose our aunt has become so persistent in urging your marriage? With Anne installed at Pemberley, she believes she might still exert control over Rosings.”

Darcy laughed out loud. “She is mistaken if she believes I would allow her to remain in the manor house. No—Aunt Catherine would go to the dower house and live on her jointure. Has she forgotten who has managed the estate books these past five years? I know precisely how lavishly she spends. Rosings can sustain her, but one poor harvest would plunge the estate into debt. There is not enough set aside to weather a true emergency.”

“How well I know it.” Richard sighed. “Maybe I ought to marry Anne myself. Miss Wilson, sadly, married a baronet from Staffordshire. Uniting with my cousin would certainly benefit me. She is not disagreeable—timid, to be sure, but I am gregarious enough for two. I could resign my commission—that would please my parents.”

“If a marriage of that nature is what you desire, you have my blessing. Anne deserves some measure of happiness. I often wonder why my mother differed so greatly from her sister. I was raised gently. My mother taught me my worth, though my own feelings of inferiority have often caused me to forget it. Has Lady Catherine ever loved poor Anne? She disparages and criticizes.”

His cousin shrugged and leaned forward, reaching for the hamper of food.

“It is worth considering. The last time I was on the Continent, I had a close encounter with the enemy I would rather not repeat.” He looked away briefly—whatever memory had surfaced, he suppressed it swiftly.

“Perhaps I shall mention it to Anne, and see if she would be willing to enter into an arrangement of convenience. I would be kind to her—and faithful. It would be a far better situation than she has known for years.”

“Cheese, Darcy? Richard offered suddenly. “I am famished.”

They ate in companionable silence. Darcy’s thoughts moved in rhythm with the carriage wheels, tumbling one over the next.

He wondered whether Elizabeth had yet been introduced to his aunt, and what she had made of her.

He had little good to say of Lady Catherine, and he continued assisting with the estate only out of respect for his father.

George Darcy had managed everything at Rosings after Sir Lewis’s death—at least until his own passing five years before.

“Bromley.” Richard nodded toward the window. The carriage had slowed and now entered the yard of the coaching inn. Two grooms approached and began to change the horses. “I need to stretch my legs.” His cousin opened the door and climbed down.

“I believe I shall join you.” Darcy followed.

The yard smelled strongly of horse and sweat.

People passed swiftly in all directions, going about their business.

He and Richard strolled a short way from the bustle and paused in the shade of a broad tree.

Out of habit, Darcy kept his hat tilted low, hiding his blemish.

He caught himself at once. Blemish? His mother, were she here, would be disappointed in him for thinking of it in such terms.

Elizabeth makes it easier to bear . Had I not been a fool, I would even now be enjoying her company.

There was no use bemoaning the past. All he could do was hope she would allow him to apologize. And even if she does, it does not follow that she will allow me to renew my addresses. The thought churned his stomach, and he drew in a deep breath and exhaled to ease the nausea.

Pray, Elizabeth. Do not turn me away. I could not bear it if you did.

Within fifteen minutes, the carriage was back on the road to Hunsford.

Two hours or so of travel still lay ahead, but by the morrow, Darcy would see Elizabeth again.

He wondered where he might encounter her.

Surely, she would be outdoors walking the paths surrounding Rosings Park.

Perhaps I ought to call at the parsonage with Richard first. And then what?

He might contrive a meeting—somewhere private—so they could speak openly without interruption.

Richard dozed, leaving Darcy alone with his thoughts. He turned over countless possibilities in his mind, yet by the time the carriage rolled to a stop, no firm plan had taken shape. Weary, he climbed down, followed by a still-groggy Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“You had best be coherent when we face our aunt,” Darcy warned. “She will not take kindly to our early arrival, especially without notice.”

“You did not write?” Richard gaped, then laughed. “You are mistaken, Cousin—she will see it as proof you mean to marry Anne at last. I do not envy you!” He bounded up the steps ahead of him.

Shaking his head, Darcy followed more slowly.

His cousin waited at the top of the stairs.

The door opened without them knocking, and Rosings’ long-time butler, Stanley, greeted them with his usual solemnity.

“Lady Catherine has been informed of your arrival,” he intoned.

“She demands to see you before you go upstairs.”

“Lead on, Stanley,” Richard declared. “I am certain my aunt cannot wait to welcome us.” He chuckled under his breath and nudged Darcy with his elbow.

They followed the butler down the hall. Darcy noted several changes since his last visit, frowning slightly as he considered the cost. Four new paintings lined the entrance hall, none of which he recognized.

No doubt more would be found in his aunt’s favorite drawing room.

As they were announced, he glanced around.

The furnishings had, indeed, changed there as well.