Page 14 of Raised at Rosings (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse #4)

Chapter Thirteen

The impending discussion’s painful nature was readily apparent to Elizabeth. While she saw the logic of ensuring that her sister of the heart’s death would be handled as it should be and the power passed to Richard as it must be, that did not make the situation any less painful to bear. Most of the time, she was able to stay busy enough to avoid the icy grip of grief that would take hold when she was forced to acknowledge how little time she had left with Anne.

Elizabeth took a sip of her tea, which she had made sure to add just the right amount of cream and sugar to. She relished the delicious brew, its warmth a soothing balm that seeped into her very being. It helped some and prepared her for the conversation at hand.

Uncle Reggie, his face etched with gentle concern, looked directly at Elizabeth and asked, “How is Anne? I know she is not well, but I would have your unvarnished view of her situation.”

Swallowing in an attempt to get past the lump in her throat, Elizabeth said, “She does not have long, days rather than weeks, I think, but she is not suffering overmuch. Anne is asleep most of the time but does wake on occasion to take tea or broth. I am sure she will be glad to see you.” Elizabeth did not realize that she cried as she spoke until Mr. Darcy reached out and pressed a handkerchief into her hand. Glancing up at him, she gave him a watery smile of gratitude before delicately dabbing at her eyes with the soft linen of his gifted handkerchief.

Into the somber silence Mr. Crampton pronounced, “While I am here, I would like to speak to her if she is able so that I can be assured that everything is in order for her own will to be handled as it should be.”

With a nod, Uncle Reggie said, “Yes, we must have everything in order to be as Anne wishes, but what of Richard? He’s slated to inherit the estate, and to ensure a smooth transition, it would be wise to have all documents and paperwork in perfect order for an immediate transfer of ownership upon her passing.”

“Father, Anne is dying. What does it matter that I take over immediately? Surely, there is nothing so urgent that I must make a show of force while I am in mourning,” countered Richard.

Forestalling an argument between the father and son, Elizabeth spoke up. “Lady Catherine will do all in her power to keep the stranglehold on what she thinks should be hers. I would not put it past her to attempt some underhanded means to keep you at bay. You would be wise to be sure that she is not given the means to strike out at you.”

Looking at Elizabeth, Richard slumped slightly before acquiescing, saying, “There is logic in your argument.” Then, turning to Mr. Crampton with a smirk, he asked, “So how can we be rid of the old bat?”

Smothering a smile, Mr. Crampton said, “Sir Lewis knew his wife and her tendencies well and his will leaves us with several options. He actually gives you the choice of where she will live. There are actually several options. First, she may have the dower house at Rosings if you so choose, but should not wish her so close, you may send her to live at the satellite estate in Scotland. There too there is the choice if you permit her to live at the estate or in that dower house, which is half the size of the dower house at Rosings. If neither option is something that suites you, he also stated she may be released to her brother for him to care for as he sees fit.”

“She is certainly not staying at Rosings, even if it is at the dower house. Her constant interference and complaints would drive me to madness.” Came Richard’s immediate reply.

Elizabeth could not help but chuckle at Richard’s vehement reply. A marvelous thought struck Elizabeth mid-laugh, the sound of her laughter fading as a smile of cunning spread across her face. She said, “You know, Richard, Lady Catherine being in London may turn out to be quite advantageous for you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Richard tilted his head and asked, “How so?”

Elizabeth smiled at Richard, despite still clutching the tear-stained handkerchief in her hand, saying, “You can have all of her possessions removed from Rosings and sent wherever you wish. The destination is unimportant—Scotland or a place of Uncle Reggie’s choosing. The point is that if she shows up at Rosings, it really is not hers any longer. There will be no trace of her if you start now. Personally, I would start with that god awful throne room.” Feeling Mr. Darcy’s intense gaze on her, Elizabeth turned, her heart quickening, to meet his eyes full of mischievous mirth. Lifting her chin despite her blush, she answered his look, saying, “What? You did not have to spend time in that room on a daily basis for years.”

“Lizzie has a valid point.” Uncle Reggie’s voice pulled Elizabeth from her odd fascination with the smile in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. Taking another sip of her to cover her confusion, she listened as he continued, saying, “The alterations my sister implemented at Rosings were solely dependent upon Anne’s allowance in an effort to keep the peace. I am certain Anne would approve their removal.”

Nodding, Elizabeth looked at Richard and explained, “In fact, I can speak with Anne about the plan and send a missive to the staff there about beginning the process. I am certain the Rosings staff, more loyal to Anne than Lady Catherine, will gladly comply.”

Richard was quick to say, “Thank you, Lizzy. Anne's position as mistress of Rosings, though likely temporary given her failing health, demands respect. I would be horrified to be seen as usurping it, especially considering her mother’s machinations. On the other hand, the practical need to remove Aunt Catherine’s things is undeniable. With your idea, I can ensure that what needs to be done is handled efficiently and with the proper respect.”

Darcy stood at the bottom of the stairs, wondering what he should do. His uncle had gone up to spend time with Anne. Richard and Mr. Crampton were discussing the finer details of their Uncle Lewis’s will in the parlor. Miss Elizabeth had already spoken with Anne about making changes at Rosings and had left to write a missive to the staff there. With no specific task to be about, he felt out of place.

He supposed he should return home and see to the tall stack of correspondence waiting for him on his desk that he had been ignoring, but the thought was unappealing. Not only did he want to speak to Miss Elizabeth before he left, but he was unsettled, though he could not put his finger on why. It was not the fact that Mr. Crampton had not yet spoken to Miss Elizabeth about the codicil that Aunt Catherine had so recently tried to alter. He knew from speaking to his own barrister that the information within the codicil could not be revealed to Miss Elizabeth until she reached her majority, which he knew would not be for another fortnight.

Running a hand along his forehead, Darcy tried to decipher his odd feelings. It was partly his distrust of Aunt Catherine. He couldn't believe his aunt had only been confined to her room like a recalcitrant child for her most recent actions. They all knew that she was delusional and had been caught red-handed attempting to alter her husband’s will. Though the codicil’s contents remained a mystery, Darcy sensed his uncle had bequeathed something to Miss Elizabeth, and he strongly suspected his aunt was actively trying to block her from receiving it. And yet all that had happened in response to such underhandedness was to send her to her room? It was wrong.

Any other person would be facing a trial, but not his aunt, no his uncle would not allow that, as it might affect his power in parliament. It smacked of injustice and more; it made him wonder what she would do next. Without facing any real punishment, Darcy worried Lady Catherine would lash out in some other way. He did not like it, but he did not have the authority to handle the situation as he would wish.

Darcy was pulled out of his musings by the sound of footsteps on the stairs above him. Glancing up, he caught sight of Miss Elizabeth as she descended the stairs, and it was as if he had lost all the air in his lungs. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact source of the feeling. Perhaps it was the way she smiled so joyously when their eyes met, or how she seemed to glow in the light from the windows. He could not quite fathom how she still had the strength to smile so after the confrontation earlier. The socialite ladies that he often complained about would have been taken to bed with a fit of the vapors and yet here she was smiling at him in a way that made him ache. Miss Elizabeth had indeed become a remarkable lady, a true woman of worth. What was he to do about this strange pull she had on him? The question echoed in his mind. A persistent whisper that attempted to distract him from the issues at hand.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Miss Elizabeth approached the liveried footman, a letter clutched in her hand, and said, “See that this finds its way to Rosings by express.” Accepting the letter with a bow, the young man hurried away as if sensing the urgency of the letter’s contents. Turning to Darcy, she asked, “Have you been left to your own devices, Mr. Darcy?”

Smiling down at Miss Elizabeth who’s head only reached his shoulder, Darcy offered her his arm before saying, “I was taking the opportunity to reflect on all that has transpired this morning while Uncle Reggie was visiting with Anne and Richard was going over matters with Mr. Crampton. It seems that you have completed your missive to be rid of Aunt Catherine’s ostentatious hoard.”

A peal of laughter, bright and unrestrained, erupted from Miss Elizabeth as she leaned on him briefly, her body shaking with the strength of her mirth. She tilted her head back, allowing him to see the merriment in her emerald gaze as she caught her breath, saying, “I have the most peculiar image of Lady Catherine as a dragon clutching at her hoard of gold and shaking her tail at everyone. Sadly, she lost her fire long ago, so instead of spewing a raging inferno, she can only blow smoke.”

A chuckle rumbled in Darcy’s chest as he joined her mirth, the sound a low, warm counterpoint to her laughter. “That is quite the image,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. Then, sobering somewhat, he added, “While smoke is better than fire to deal with, it is still detrimental. Will a valiant knight appear to defeat her, free the villagers from her tyranny, and rescue the princess held captive?”

Shaking her head with a sigh, Miss Elizabeth mused, her voice laced with a hint of melancholy, “Sadly, the princess’s only true freedom will come when she escapes this earthly realm.”

For a time neither of them spoke, but then something within Darcy forced him to say, “But isn’t there a second princess in the tower? Surely, she will be free to live her life unhindered once the dragon is vanquished?”

Looking up at Darcy with wide eyes, Miss Elizabeth answered, “There is no other princess, only a poor serving girl, but she will be eminently grateful to be free.”

Elizabeth waited, gaging Mr. Darcy’s reaction to what she had said. Scars from her mother’s abandonment and Lady Catherine’s tyrannical reign ran deep, and the idea of calling herself a princess felt inappropriate. Regardless, the idea of freedom was intoxicating, and she would be grateful when it came. Though she had never quite pictured what she would do once she obtained it.

Mr. Darcy tilted his head, eyes intense, and Elizabeth strangely felt as if he was peering into her soul. He only just opened his mouth to say something when Richard’s voice, warm and teasing interrupted from behind her, saying, “Are you coming in the parlor, you two, or are you just going to stand there laughing and staring at each other?”

Certain her face was flaming, Elizabeth wished she could disappear until she noticed Mr. Darcy glaring at Richard over her head. At least she was not the only one embarrassed.

Certain her cheeks were aflame, Elizabeth wanted to melt into the floorboards, but then she noticed that Mr. Darcy seemed just as addled. For a moment, Mr. Darcy glared over her head at Richard, but then, shaking his head slightly, he looked back at her. A smile softened his features, and his eyes twinkled, a silent understanding passing between them that left her breathless and strangely happy.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Darcy said, “We were just joining you.”

Elizabeth moved together with Mr. Darcy to the settee across from Richard and once settled she said, “I just dispatched the message we spoke of to Rosings via express. By this time tomorrow, the staff there will be dismantling Lady Catherine’s throne room and packing up her things, with what I assume will be no little amount of celebration.”

Leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs before him, Richard chuckled. “I hardly expect the staff at Rosings to disapprove of me; compared to Aunt Catherine, I will have to be a vast improvement.”

“Too true. Despite Anne and my best efforts to intercede, Lady Catherine’s haughty disdain was palpable, affecting everyone from the housekeeper to the children playing on the estate grounds after church. Even with their sorrow at the loss of Anne, you will be a breath of fresh air.” A strange constriction tightened Elizabeth’s chest. Despite the truth of the words, it hurt to speak of a time when Anne would no longer be part of her life. A world without Anne felt wrong somehow.

For a moment, the only sound was the quiet breathing of those gathered, the silence heavy with grief and the knowledge of the imminent loss. Mr. Crampton leaned forward, his voice low and serious. “I have a meeting to attend this afternoon, and therefore will be leaving soon; however, before I go, I wished to speak with you about the codicil, Miss Elizabeth.”

"Oh?" Elizabeth said, her eyebrows raised in curious inquiry. “What did you want to discuss, Mr. Crampton?”

“I’m limited in what I can share about the codicil’s contents, but please know it directly concerns you. That said, I can officially meet with you about it after you reach your majority, which I would like to arrange as soon as may be.”

“I reach my majority in less than a fortnight.”

“Yes, I knew it would be soon. Your approaching birthday is probably why Lady Catherine attempted to act now so that she could stop the proceedings.” Pausing, Mr. Crampton reached into his pocket before withdrawing a card and handing it to her, adding, “Do you have a solicitor who can attend a meeting with you and serve your interests?”

The card felt cool and smooth beneath Elizabeth’s fingers as she traced the embossed lettering and read the address. “No,” she said, “I have never had need of a solicitor.”

Reaching out, Mr. Darcy lay his hand on hers saying, “I am sure that my solicitor would be more than happy to be of assistance. Mr. Adkins knows Mr. Crampton and their firms have a history of working together, which should make things run smoothly.”

Elizabeth felt a sense of relief knowing that Mr. Darcy trusted the solicitor who would be available to help her, as she had no knowledge about choosing one herself. Smiling at him, she said, “I would be happy to have Mr. Adkins’ assistance, as long as you are sure that he would not mind you volunteering his services.”

Squeezing her hand Mr. Darcy replied, “Oh I am sure he would not mind.” Elizabeth’s gaze fell to Mr. Darcy’s hand, its size dwarfing her own, the comforting warmth a tangible presence against her skin that she was unaccustomed to.

She might have continued to study his hand on hers, lost in the warmth of his touch, if it were not for Mr. Crampton's throat clearing, a jarring sound that broke the spell as he stood and announced his departure. “As I said, I must be on my way. Should Miss de Bourgh inquire, please convey my willingness to adhere to her instructions precisely as she has requested.”

Everyone stood to see Mr. Crampton off and had just closed the door behind him when Elizabeth spotted Uncle Reggie appear at the top of the stairs. She could not help but feel as if his twenty minutes with Anne had left him looking ravaged. His usually vibrant complexion was ashen, and though his movements were slow and deliberate, his hands trembling slightly. Though he’d always appeared younger, his face now bore the weight of years, his eyes holding a weariness that belied his youthful spirit.

It hurt Elizabeth to see him so, so she moved to the base of the stairs and asked, “Uncle Reggie, are you well?”

Meeting her gaze with difficulty, Uncle Reggie said, “I am well enough, my dear, only it is never easy for one to see someone pass before their time and with the rate that Anne is fading, I may have just said goodbye to her forever.” Glancing between the sad visages of Mr. Darcy and Richard, Uncle Reggie added, “I believe, gentlemen, it is time to leave and allow Lizzy to see to household matters and spend time with Anne.” So saying, he gestured to a footman who proceeded to bring him his hat and gloves and send word to have his carriage brought around.

Mr. Darcy, ignoring the proffered hat, stepped forward, his voice sharp and urgent as he demanded, “But uncle, what about Aunt Catherine? Surely, we cannot just leave her to plot her next move. There is no telling what she will try!”