Page 7 of Raised at Rosings (Elizabeth and Darcy True Love Multiverse #4)

Chapter Six

Darcy could not escape Lady Catherine and her pontification fast enough. Pleading a need to wash the dust of the road off of themselves, both he and Richard retreated to their provided rooms. Turning to Richard, he said, “I didn’t think she would ever stop talking.”

Sighing, Richard said, “I think she interprets Uncle Lewis’s death as a chance to attract more attention and manipulate circumstances to her liking.” Pausing as he came to his door, he added, “We should be grateful that she is so easily deceived into thinking that our undisturbed listening signifies agreement, rather than a mere demonstration of etiquette and a desire for peace.”

Darcy loosened his cravat while he thought about his cousin’s words before saying, “Give me half an hour to wash the road from myself and we can search out Anne. I would like to see how she is managing without her mother’s interference.”

With a jaunty salute, Richard disappeared into his room, the door clicking shut behind him. This left Darcy to wander into his room, distracted by his thoughts as he prepared to wash and change out of his traveling clothes. Looking around, he spotted his valet, Perry, busily putting away his things. Sporting a smile, Perry announced, “The last bucket of water has been fetched for your bath, and I’ve set out a fresh set of clothes for you.”

“Thank you, Perry.” Darcy turned towards the dressing room where his bath would be but hesitated and said, “I am concerned about what might happen at Rosings without my uncle at the helm and I worry about my cousin and the staff. Pay attention while you are below stairs. My aunt may think little of those she sees as below her and insists that she has everything in order, but I trust the servants to have a better understanding of the situation. You will probably have a better understanding of what is happening than I will.”

Quick to agree, Perry said, “Of course, sir.” His subdued smile and nod were reassuring to Darcy. Perry had been his valet for the last several years and had been quite supportive while he struggled in the aftermath of his father’s death. Normally of a jolly disposition, he was good at helping Darcy keep things in perspective with his comments and small bits of advice. Darcy had confidence that Perry could wheedle information from the staff that would help him help his cousin.

With a nod and a smile, Darcy made his way to his waiting bath, removing his cravat as he went. Dropping it next to the chair where his fresh clothes waited, Darcy sat on the bench and removed his boots with a happy sigh. When he traveled and was at ease at home, he wore whatever he wished. While the boots he wore might not be considered the most fashionable, Darcy preferred to be able to remove his own shoes and clothes. It was one of the reasons he was so uncomfortable at balls. Society expected him to dress in the tightest clothes imaginable at fancy gatherings, right down to his snug-fitting boots.

It did not take long for Darcy to get clean and dressed once again, though he knew his aunt would most likely comment that he had not chosen to dress more formally. It had taken several days of hard travel for him and Richard to arrive at Rosings. Darcy was more concerned with comfort than with the formality that Aunt Catherine was sure to demand. Coming over with his cravat, Perry tied it into a competent knot and Darcy was ready to go.

Just as he was leaving his room, the door to Richard’s room opened, and they smiled at each other at their timing. Richard asked, “Should we just go to Anne’s room or skulk around hoping to spot her?”

“Actually, Anne is waiting for you in her sitting room with a light respite. We would like to-” Richard interrupted the young woman’s words with a hug that had her chuckling and Darcy curious.

Leaning back, Richard looked down at the woman and said, “It has been so long, Lizzie. We missed having you at Matlock this year.”

“It was tough not being able to support Jane during her first season, but I couldn’t abandon Uncle Lewis. Not with him doing so poorly.” Came her soft reply.

Nodding in understanding, Richard asked, “How are you holding up, Lizzie?”

Darcy had a hard time recognizing the young woman Richard was embracing as Miss Elizabeth. Darcy cast his mind back and vividly remembered the sharp pain from the girl’s kick to his shin only two years ago. How had she become the beautiful young lady before him?

When he had last been at Rosings, he had not only learned of his uncle’s upcoming demise, but he had also realized that he was becoming far to assuming and ridged. He had attempted to leave behind his old ways and strived to embody the qualities he had long admired in others. Seeing Miss Elizabeth before him now only emphasized just how wrong he had once been. Darcy was struck by the transformation: she was taller, and the youthful aura was gone, replaced by a captivating maturity that was undeniable. The change in her demeanor, a certain poise and self-assurance, was unmistakable. Looking more closely, Darcy saw a young lady with arresting green eyes and curly auburn hair piled on her head that would soon be the belle of any ball that she attended.

The wan smile on Miss Elizabeth’s face and the dimming of light in her green eyes told Darcy that she mourned the loss of his uncle. Despite the pain she so obviously felt, Miss Elizabeth stated, “Losing Uncle Lewis has been tough, but staying busy has been helpful.”

“And how is Anne?” asked Richard.

Miss Elizabeth glanced between Richard and himself before saying, “Despite the loss of her only caring parent, she finds solace in knowing that both of you are here. There is much that we have to discuss before Lady Catherine expects us for dinner.”

By closely observing Miss Elizabeth's expressions, he caught the flick of her gaze down the hallway. It felt as if she was making sure that they were not being observed. He did not like that at all. Clearing his throat, he said, “While I am happy to partake of something before I have to face one of Aunt Catherine’s exorbitant dinners, there is something about your tone that has me concerned, Miss Elizabeth. Is there something afoot?”

Miss Elizabeth’s eyes subtly widened as she commented, “You are quite perceptive, Mr. Darcy.” With a nonchalant shrug, she casually explained, “It’s better if we discuss this in the safety of Anne’s sitting room. Do not worry, it is rather cozy and not too girlish for your manly tastes.”

Elizabeth found a certain amount of humor in the pacing that both Richard and Mr. Darcy were doing. While her understanding of Mr. Darcy was limited, she knew Richard was a man of action and would most certainly object to the idea she and Anne had come up with the night before. Waiting until Richard finally paused for a moment, Elizabeth said, “I know you would like to lop the head off the hydra, so to speak, and topple Lady Catherine from her position of power but you must understand that it would not be without consequences.”

Chuckling, Mr. Darcy asked, “Does my aunt have any extra heads that I am unaware of?”

Catching Anne's eye, Elizabeth shared a smile with her before Anne stated, "While my mother has just the one head, she always has another scheme, and what's possibly more troubling is that she is both resolute and brutal." Smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in her black dress, Anne continued, “Unless you are prepared to drag her off to Bedlam today, we have no other option. I know that she’s far from the ideal mother, but with the pain of losing a parent still fresh, I simply can’t face losing another.”

Richard ran a hand over his face, the lines of worry etched deep, and then went to Anne, dropping to his knees, his warm hands enveloping hers. He said, “I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you must face having lost your one loving parent, but do you think that this is truly the best option? You want us to act like we do not know that you have inherited and that I am next in line. You want to allow your mother to believe that she is in control of everything while you and Lizzie run things from the shadows.” Shaking his head, he mumbled, “I cannot like it, and do not get me started on allowing Aunt Catherine to treat Lizzie as a servant.”

“I am asking you to allow me to manage Rosings as I see fit, to the best of my ability, while I am able to do so.” With trembling fingers, Anne clutched Richard’s hand, her touch light but desperate, and he immediately responded, rubbing her small hands between his own larger, warm ones. Anne, emboldened by her support, pushed forward and shared, “I would not survive the discord that would arise if my mother learned I was taking over. Even sending her to Scotland would take time and my mother would not give me a moment’s peace. The last time I tried to stand up for something I wanted—a different style dress, to be precise—I paid the price by being bedridden for days. My heart just cannot take it. I know I do not have long, maybe only a handful of years, and I would like to live them in relative peace, even if that peace is under my mother’s thumb.”

Mr. Darcy sat across from Elizabeth and Anne, his fingers steepled as he contemplated for a moment. Then he inquired, “Although I understand your wish to handle matters in your own manner, I am curious about how you plan to ensure the proper management of both the tenants and the staff.”

It was gratifying to hear that Mr. Darcy respected the plan that she and Anne had come up with. He was thinking it through and asking questions. A faint, almost painful smile curved Elizabeth’s mouth as she responded, “Despite Lady Catherine’s penchant for making proclamations and asserting her desires, she rarely backs them up with action, especially when it involves venturing beyond the rooms that she has claimed as her own. As long as we are able to keep those who handle the actual work on our side, things should function smoothly.”

Her comment had Mr. Darcy and Richard glancing at each other for a moment before Richard, with a rueful smile, said, “I do not know why I did not realize that. I often just let her talk so that I do not have to argue with her about her foolish ideas. Is there anything that she follows through on besides decorating her rooms?”

Shaking her head, Anne answered, “My mother believes that her position in life means that everyone must follow her pronouncements. She never questions whether or not they do what she demands. It would be unthinkable, and to check that they are following through would be too much like work. She is Lady Catherine de Bourgh, daughter of and sister to an earl. She does not work .” This had everyone chuckling.

Richard sat down in a chair next to Anne and stretched out his legs before him. He said, “If we are going to do this, I want to have safety measures in place to protect the both of you. I do not trust Aunt Catherine not to lash out if she learns she is not getting her way. More than that, I want a cutoff, a time beyond which we will stop this experiment. I will inherit when you turn thirty, but that is far too long to allow Aunt free rein. Would you consider having me step in on your twenty-fifth birthday?”

Anne tilted her head before nodding. “That would be fair.” Elizabeth knew what she did not say was that she did not think she would live much beyond twenty-five. It was not a topic either of them wished to dwell on and she feared the gentlemen were not yet cognizant of yet.

Biting her lip, Elizabeth tried not to think of just how a furious Lady Catherine might lash out. In all the years Elizabeth had known her, she had never seen the woman back down gracefully. There had always been cruelty and underhanded behavior when she did not get her way. She suppressed a shudder, feeling her resolve grow stronger as she made a firm decision to ensure Anne’s life remained as she wished it to for what time she had left.

Focusing on Richard, Elizabeth asked, “What safety measures do you have in mind?”

“I want to hear from you and Anne twice a month with updates on how everything is running and if Aunt Catherine is being a bother.” Pausing, Richard seemed to realize he said before shrugging and adding, “Or more of a bother than is typical. From what I hear from my father, she has been a bother since birth.”

“I had already made up my mind that staying in contact would be absolutely essential. I have spoken with Lydia Turner, the physician’s wife, and she is willing to pass on any letters.” She smiled at Anne and reassured her, “Lady Catherine mistreats her husband whenever he comes to assist Anne, and Mrs. Turner is not fond of it. Frankly, she is not fond of Lady Catherine at all, and I think she would do almost anything to cut her off at the knees.”

Leaning slightly forward in his chair, Mr. Darcy spoke up, his voice filled with earnestness, “I am glad that you have those that are willing to help you both, do not get me wrong, but I feel that we should go further. There is always the possibility that Aunt Catherine will put you in a situation where she is monitoring what you write somehow. It may sound odd, but I think a pass phrase will be a benefit. It could serve as a warning that you are in need of aid or that Richard or I need to be on the lookout for danger. To be certain you are both prospering under Aunt Catherine's rule, I think we should visit Rosings every year, to make sure in person that you are well.”

Elizabeth studied the young man across from her, finding herself very glad that he had come. It was a brilliant idea, and it made Elizabeth wonder where the thought had originated from. For some reason, hearing his suggestion made her want to ask him if he would join her in a game of chess while he was at Rosings.

Darcy followed Richard down the hallway, watching as his two cousins chatted in low tones, Anne gripping Richard’s arm for support as they went. They had waited as long as they could, but if they did not show up to the parlor to await dinner soon, he knew Lady Catherine would become upset. With every step, he couldn’t shake off the worry for his cousin and Miss Elizabeth, and how precarious their lives would be in the coming years.

Miss Elizabeth’s voice was soft but powerful when she interrupted his thoughts with her words. “I know this comes late, Mr. Darcy, but I wanted to express my condolences for the loss of your father. It has been many years since I lost my own father, but I remember the pain of it to this day. It is not something I would wish on anyone, though you may find relief knowing that the ache lessons with time.” Looking down at the young lady, Darcy caught the emotion in her eyes and felt the breath still in his throat.

In the six months or so since his father had died, he had accepted many condolences, but none of them seemed nearly as heartfelt as what Miss Elizabeth was offering. There had been trite comments about God’s will as well as something about their confidence in him and his ability to handle all that amounted to the Darcy name and holdings. None of them had been made with any feeling and none of it had touched him, not really.

The image of his father filled Darcy with a stark emptiness; unlike the warmth he sensed in Elizabeth’s relationship with her father, his own memories were cold and distant, a void where affection should have been. It was impossible to miss the bitterness and disdain that seeped from every word his father spoke. Only a handful of people earned his approval, and Darcy had not been one of them. Any notion of affection or love had been out of the question. Frankly, his father’s passing had been a relief of sorts, even though it meant that he had to take on many responsibilities that he was not fully prepared for.

Still, there had been an emotional reaction when his father died. He felt a deep, aching emptiness, almost as if he was mourning the loss of a chance to gain his father’s approval, or even a flicker of affection. There was no longer any chance for his father to change his mind about him and learn to love him. Darcy rubbed at his chest in a futile attempt to soothe the sudden twinge that asserted itself.

Struggling for a moment to clear his throat, Darcy said, “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. My father’s passing has been a strange and difficult thing to deal with, and your words have offered a much-needed sense of comfort.”

“It sounds as if your father’s passing might not have been as straightforward as my own.” Pausing, Miss Elizabeth bit her lip for a moment before adding, “Should you want to unburden yourself, I am a good listener.”

Miss Elizabeth’s sincere offer took Darcy aback. His gaze fell on her earnest expression, and a slow smile crept across his face, the unexpected warmth making him feel strangely light. “I fear we will not have time to unravel the Gordian knot that was my relationship with my father before we reach the parlor. But perhaps we could speak of it another time?”

In a way, he surprised himself by agreeing to disclose what he normally avoided even thinking about, but somehow it felt right. Which was odd. Gazing down at Miss Elizabeth, a flicker of uncertainty ran through him. He was captivated, yet completely unnerved by this young woman, whose presence seemed to unravel his reserve.

Once the four of them arrived at the parlor, all possibility for conversation stopped. His aunt Catherine’s presence was enough to stifle any idle chatter, but the spectacle before them shocked Darcy into speechless silence. Somehow, since the death of her husband, Lady Catherine had installed a throne in the parlor.

Darcy and Richard exchanged a startled glance, their eyes wide with disbelief at the boldness of their aunt’s behavior. Not only was there a raised platform that put her chair higher than all the rest, but the chair was gilded and excessively ornate. It was utterly absurd and so like his pompous aunt to do such a thing.

“Come in. Come in,” she gestured, encouraging them into the room with a regal wave.

They moved haltingly towards the chairs that were arranged about the room and were about to sit down when Aunt Catherine harrumphed and said, “It seems I cannot give you leave to do anything on your own. Anne, you sit here next to me and face our guests. Miss Bennet, you may take that stool there next to Anne. That way, you can help her if she is in need. You know how delicate my Anne is. Boys, you will sit-”

Utterly fed up with her directions, Richard exclaimed, “Darcy and I are grown men, not boys, and we will sit as we please.” He picked up one of the chairs that lined the edges of the room and brought it over next to Anne, adding, “See, this is perfect. Now we can chat amiably while we wait for dinner.”

Following his cousin’s lead, Darcy picked up a chair and moved it over with the overs. Then, catching sight of the low stool Miss Elizabeth was to sit on, he nudged it aside with his foot, the rough wood scraping against the floorboards, and placed the chair in its stead, offering it to her with a polite bow, “Here you are, Miss Elizabeth. You take this chair, and I will fetch another. There is no sane reason for you to sit on a stool when there are so many fairly comfortable chairs available.”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy! How dare you go against my arrangements? I am the mistress of this estate and that means that my word is law. If your poor mother were around to see what you are doing… To see how you are disrespecting me. She would be ashamed.” Moving to wipe a nonexistent tear from her eye, she sniffled slightly before continuing. “I will permit you to stay in your odd little grouping, but I demand you leave Miss Elizabeth the stool and sit in the chair yourself. Now.”

Turning to face the Gorgon that was his aunt, Darcy took a breath, ready to blast her with the fallacy in all that she said and did, but a grip on his sleeve stopped him. He knew, even without seeing Miss Elizabeth’s face, that she was worried he might upset the plan Anne had carefully crafted. Despite his misgivings about the plan, he had agreed to assist them in thwarting his aunt their way. Raised as he was, Darcy had long ago managed to gain control of his temper. His jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Instead of saying what he wanted to, he asserted, “Aunt Catherine, I know you like to have your way in everything, but in this, I cannot comply. I am a gentleman and as such I cannot in good conscience sit in a comfortable chair while the lady next to me is left to manage on a stool. If you want me to sit, Miss Elizabeth will sit in a chair as well.” Giving his waistcoat a sharp tug, he turned to Miss Elizabeth and, smiling, helped her into her chair. Ignoring his aunt’s inarticulate noises, Darcy collected another chair and sat down next to Miss Elizabeth. To say his aunt gaped like a fish would be rude, but true.