Page 32 of What Comes Between Cousins

“F IRST, WE SHOULD DISPATCH a letter to your father, informing him of these events.” Mr. Bingley, who had addressed the Bennet sisters, looked kindly on Elizabeth. “I am certain he will wish to extract his own pound of flesh from those responsible and will not appreciate our denying him that opportunity.”

“I shall write to Papa,” said Mary, earning thanks from Elizabeth.

They entered the sitting-room, and Mr. Bingley showed Mary to a desk along the outer wall on which some paper and ink rested where Mary sat down to compose her note. As soon as Elizabeth entered the room, she was accosted by Kitty and Lydia, followed at a discrete distance by Louisa. They crowded around her, alternately inspecting and embracing her, seeking to assure themselves she was well.

“It was I who saw Mr. Collins approaching you out the window,” said Kitty in a louder voice than Elizabeth thought necessary.

“Yes, but I informed Mr. Hurst, who went to your rescue,” added Lydia.

“Then you have both done me a great service,” said Elizabeth, smiling at her two younger sisters. They were exuberant and even wild at times, but at heart, they were good girls. “I thank you both.”

“I hope you are well, Elizabeth,” added Louisa.

“I am,” replied Elizabeth. “Though villainy appears to exist all about me, I have never yet allowed my courage to be intimidated.”

Mrs. Hurst laughed, even as Lydia exclaimed: “That is our Lizzy!”

“Come,” said Mrs. Hurst, drawing them into the room nearer the fire. “At the very least you must be chilled. Come warm yourself by the fire. I have sent for tea.”

With gratitude for the other woman’s friendship, Elizabeth allowed herself to be led to the couches situated in front of the roaring fire. The love of family and friends filled her, and she sat, her youngest sisters on either side, reveling in the warmth of friendship she felt from everyone around her. They sat there for some time, Kitty and Lydia chattering, asking questions of Elizabeth about the confrontation which had just taken place. Elizabeth thought they were calming their own worries more than Elizabeth herself.

“Miss Elizabeth.”

The voice startled her, and Elizabeth looked up with reflexive surprise to see Lord Chesterfield standing in front of her.

“If you are agreeable, I have a few matters of which I would like to speak with you. Will you do me the honor?”

Over the man’s shoulder, Elizabeth could see Mr. Darcy watching them, concern written upon his brow.

“Of course, Lord Chesterfield,” replied Elizabeth. “I am at your disposal.” Elizabeth turned to her sisters. “Will you allow us a little privacy for the moment?”

Though reluctant, her sisters assented, allowing Mrs. Hurst to lead them away. The viscount sat beside Elizabeth on the sofa, though at a respectable distance, keeping his back erect and his manner serious. When he looked on her, Elizabeth once again felt the return of the old Lord Chesterfield she had known when she had first come, though his manner now was more beseeching than jovial.

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. “I have come to tender my apologies for my behavior. I behaved in a manner which was not befitting of the standards for which I strive, and I am heartily sorry for it. I hope you can extend the balm of forgiveness to me.”

“Of course, I can,” replied Elizabeth. “It is all forgotten. I hope we can continue to be friends and that your relationship with your cousin will be restored.”

The viscount darted a look at his cousin, who was speaking with Mr. Bingley, though he was keeping a watchful eye on Elizabeth and Lord Chesterfield.

“I believe we have begun the process already. I am grateful for Darcy’s forbearance. I have always considered him the best of men.”

Though this last was said in a tone of introspection, the viscount soon shook it off and focused again on Elizabeth. “Furthermore, I wish you to know . . .” Elizabeth was surprised and amused to see a hint of a blush staining the cheeks of such a large and prepossessed man as Lord Chesterfield. But he shook it off and proceeded, seeming determined to finish his thought. “I hope you do not believe I was attempting to offer you . . . such a disgusting situation, Miss Elizabeth. Though Darcy has opened my eyes to how it might have seemed to you, the thought never crossed my mind, and I would not ever contemplate such a thing. I know I have given you little reason to esteem my character, but I am not so depraved as that.”

“I will own that I wondered at first,” replied Elizabeth. “But I quickly understood the reason for your behavior.”

“That you could even think it suggests that my behavior was poor.”

“I think it is as much an overactive imagination, my lord,” replied Elizabeth. “But regardless, let us forget about the past. In whatever measure my forgiveness is required, I offer it without reservation.”

“Thank you.”

––––––––

I T WAS A MARK OF WHAT had passed between them that Darcy had felt trepidation at seeing his cousin approach Miss Elizabeth. Even Fitzwilliam’s apology to Darcy himself, offered when they had spoken together upon leaving the house that morning, had not assuaged Darcy’s concerns. Bingley’s short recitation of his own conversation with Fitzwilliam had eased them somewhat, but Darcy did not breath easily until Fitzwilliam rose and took his leave of Miss Elizabeth.

“I suppose the first matter to consider is Mr. Collins,” said Bingley, interrupting Darcy’s thoughts.

The parson, who had been sitting quietly on an out of the way chair, likely hoping he would not be noticed, blanched when he heard his name. Darcy turned his attention to Collins, and Fitzwilliam, who had joined them, also regarded the man. Mr. Collins did not seem to know what to do or how to act. He was a man to be pitied, Darcy decided. Lady Catherine was a woman who had cowed men of more bravery than Mr. Collins, and the situation was made worse by his near worship of Lady Catherine, and the fact that he likely felt himself beholden to her.

“Agreed,” said Darcy, moving to confront the parson. Mr. Collins blanched, and his gaze found the floor. He refused to look up.

“Well, Mr. Collins? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I . . . Well . . . That is to say . . .” The man produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began to mop his face. “What do you wish me to tell you, Mr. Darcy?”

Given his stuttering, Darcy was surprised he was able to say that much without stumbling. Mr. Collins was petrified.

“Let us begin with Lady Catherine. Since you are still in the neighborhood, am I correct to suppose that Lady Catherine is also nearby?”

Though it clashed with Mr. Collins’s loyalty to Lady Catherine, his fear of the gentlemen confronting him overwhelmed it. “She is.”

“And where is she at present?”

“She has . . . has taken rooms at the Rose and Crown in Stevenage.”

Darcy regarded the quivering man in front of him. “I am certain I already know what her purpose was. But tell me in your own words what she hoped to accomplish.”

The parson still would not meet Darcy’s eyes. “To ensure none of the Bennet sisters succeeded in capturing either you or Lord Chesterfield.”

“As I thought,” replied Darcy with a terse nod. “But before we continue, Mr. Collins, let me make one thing very clear, so you do not feel you must raise it again. There has been nothing improper. Miss Elizabeth has not coerced me. I have asked her for an honorable courtship because I wish to have her as a wife, not because of anything underhanded.”

A hurried and frenetic nod was Mr. Collins’s response.

“Now that has been clarified, I should think you would not need to raise the subject of your objections again. Are we quite clear, Mr. Collins?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Darcy,” stuttered the man, and his nodding increased its pace.

“Good. Now, of what have your actions consisted since Lady Catherine assigned this task to you?”

Mr. Collins heaved a deep breath. “M-Mr. Darcy, surely you must see that anything I say will put me at odds with my patroness. How can I continue to serve her if she is angry with me?”

“I think, Mr. Collins,” interjected Fitzwilliam, “you had best concern yourself with pleasing us . We are far more fearsome than Lady Catherine could ever be.

“And we have the means to ensure you are defrocked and thrown from the ranks of the clergy.” Mr. Collins’s eyes widened, and he began to shake his head, but Darcy had by now had enough of the stupid man. “Your conduct in this matter has been appalling, sir. I am certain your bishop would not be happy should he learn of it, to say nothing of what the archbishop would say.”

A gasp escaped Mr. Collins’s lips. Fitzwilliam only gazed at him without pity. “Yes, Mr. Collins, my family is well acquainted with the archbishop.”

“You should also remember that once a living has been given, it may not be rescinded. Lady Catherine does, perhaps, have the means to make your life difficult, but she has not the ability to revoke the living. Only your superiors removing you from your office can do so.”

Mr. Collins slumped in his chair, defeated. “Lady Catherine decreed that Miss Elizabeth was to be removed from any possibility of tempting you to propose to her by whatever means possible.”

“Did you mean to compromise her, Mr. Collins?” demanded Darcy. The parson looked up in shock at the venom in Darcy’s voice and then quickly looked down again. “Or did you mean to abduct her?

“What was your game, man?”

Mr. Collins jumped. “I had no such intentions, I swear!”

“Then what was your game?”

Shaking, and barely making himself understood, Mr. Collins began to speak. “When I was still at Longbourn, Mr. Wickham and I agreed to distract Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lydia from you and your cousin?”

“Wickham?” demanded Darcy. “How do you know Wickham?”

“We became known to each other during the first visit the officers paid to Longbourn. There I learned of his connection to you.”

“And you listened to him?”

A spark of spirit came out in Mr. Collins’s response. “He confessed to his wrongdoings and informed me that he was trying to make amends. He told me that his friendship with you, though strained, was still strong.”

Fitzwilliam shook his head, and Darcy was no less disgusted with what he was hearing. “Then he misled you, sir. Wickham has no conscience, no morals, and I have not associated with him in years. I would have been happy to never lay eyes on him again.”

Shock radiated from Mr. Collins, but at Darcy’s stern look, he began to speak again. “Mr. Wickham was forbidden from dancing with the Bennet sisters, but I attempted to continue to induce them to see reason and leave you and your cousin alone.”

“Hence your proposal.”

Darcy looked up to see that Miss Elizabeth had joined them. He directed a look askance at her, but she only shook her head with impatience. She had as much right to hear Collins’s account as any of them.

“Yes,” was Mr. Collins’s simple reply. “When we were both banned from Longbourn, I introduced Mr. Wickham to Lady Catherine, though she already knew of him. I served as the liaison between them. Mr. Wickham demanded a large sum of money from Lady Catherine for his assistance, and while Lady Catherine initially balked, eventually she agreed.”

“How much and what was Wickham’s plan?”

“His ultimate plan, I do not know,” replied Mr. Collins. “He would not share the details. He only said I was to assist.”

“Given what happened in the gardens, it is clear Wickham meant to compromise Miss Elizabeth at best. I shudder to think of what might have happened had she fallen into his power.”

“And how much was she to pay him?”

“Five thousand pounds.”

“So Lady Catherine would ruin a young woman’s life to promote her schemes.” Darcy’s anger burned with a white-hot flame. “Damnation, man, did you not see what was happening? Or were you filled with the need for revenge because Miss Elizabeth rejected your proposal?”

“Lady Catherine is my patroness!” protested Mr. Collins. “She commands and I must obey!”

“Your trouble, Mr. Collins,” said Miss Elizabeth, composed despite what she had heard of their intentions for her, “is that you do not think for yourself. Do you wish to always be at the beck and call of another? Could you live with yourself if your actions abetted in another being hurt, even if you did nothing against that person yourself?”

Mr. Collins had nothing to say to that. His eyes went wide, however, though Darcy was not certain if it was at the suggestion he should disobey his patroness or because Miss Elizabeth’s words had struck a chord in the fog of his mind.

“It is clear that Collins, though he has behaved despicably, is not the true villain in this drama.” Fitzwilliam met Darcy’s eyes and he nodded. “We will confront Lady Catherine and send her back to Rosings with her tail between her legs. But my father will wish to know of this. I doubt he will be kind to Lady Catherine.”

“And well he should not,” growled Darcy. He turned his attention back to Collins. “Do you have anything else to tell us?”

Mr. Collins shook his head, but then he paused as something occurred to him. He hesitated, but seeing the looks they directed at him, he evidently decided that remaining silent was not in his best interests.

“Mr. Wickham was working with Miss Bingley to obtain information about Miss Elizabeth and your doings with her.”

“Of course!” said Fitzwilliam. “Wickham knew Darcy was paying attention to Miss Elizabeth, and even goaded me about it.”

Unsure of what he referred to, Darcy said: “When was this?”

“The day you went to Longbourn to offer courtship to Miss Elizabeth,” replied Fitzwilliam. He colored a little, likely remembering what had happened between them, but he pushed his embarrassment aside. “I went to Meryton as I was at loose ends with nothing to do. Wickham approached me and we exchanged words. I did not consider it at the time, but he knew much of what was happening. I am certain he was attempting to drive a wedge between us.”

“They became acquainted at the ball,” interjected Mrs. Hurst. “Caroline saw him on the side of the dance floor and wondered what he was about. Later I saw them speaking together.”

“Do you know how information was exchanged or what they planned?” asked Darcy of Mr. Collins.

The parson shook his head. “I apologize, Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Wickham did not share it with me.”

“Then we shall ask Caroline,” said Bingley.

“Is there any reason to?” asked Fitzwilliam. “Your sister will be married to Collins, and Wickham will soon be in prison. It does not signify whether they actually planned some mischief or if there was simply an exchange of information.”

“It matters to me!” cried Mr. Collins. “How am I to know if there was nothing more than you said? If their connection was more . . . Well . . .”

“I do not believe you need to concern yourself on that score, Collins,” said Darcy, understanding the thrust of his concerns. “Miss Bingley has been focused on making a match with a man of society. She would never have dallied with a mere militia officer.”

Darcy’s opinion was seconded by Bingley. Collins nodded, though he did not seem convinced. Fortunately, he refrained from speaking again, particularly as Darcy scowled at him, seeming to sense that he was in for a verbal lashing. “Your actions disgust me, Collins. That the three of you could conspire against a woman who had never done you any harm infuriates me. I would stop at nothing to see you thrown from the church in disgrace if ruining your prospects would not cause my friend hardship.

“Though I will not act against you, I will let you know here and now that you will never importune Miss Elizabeth, or any of the Bennet family again, and your wife is under the same stricture. If I find out either of you have so much as glared at any of them from across the room, I will ruin you forever. Have I made myself clear?”

“Y-yes, M-Mr. Darcy.” The parson jumped to his feet and began bowing hastily, repeatedly.

“Good. Now sit quietly until we are ready to go to Stevenage to confront my contemptible aunt.”

Mr. Collins did as he was told with nary a comment concerning his patroness. It was just as well he did not—Darcy might have strangled the man had he made another sound.

––––––––

W HEN MR. BENNET ARRIVED soon after, his concern for his second daughter was evident. He went to her and grasped her hands, looking into her eyes and asking after her wellbeing. As was her custom, Miss Elizabeth protested she was well, and it was the resilience of his daughter, as much as anything, that settled Mr. Bennet’s concerns.

After hearing the tale Mr. Collins had related, Mr. Bennet contented himself with a disdainful glare and a few choice comments for his cousin before he ignored him.

“Are we for Stevenage to confront Lady Catherine, then?”

“Yes, Mr. Bennet,” replied Darcy. “I have a great desire to speak to my aunt and call her to account for her actions. You are, of course, welcome to accompany us.”

“Believe me, Mr. Darcy, I would not miss it.”

It was determined that Bingley would escort the Bennet ladies back to Longbourn while Hurst and his wife would remain at Netherfield to watch after their sister and ensure her good behavior. Thus, after seeing the ladies to the Darcy carriage, Darcy, in the company of Fitzwilliam, Mr. Bennet, and the detestable Collins, entered Fitzwilliam’s conveyance for the journey to Stevenage.

The Rose and Crown was a stately building, the finest inn in Stevenage, though Darcy suspected her ladyship would find it less than adequate. Above the door was a brightly painted sign proclaiming the name of the establishment, with a crimson rose hovering above an elaborate golden coronet. The carriage stopped in front of the building, allowing the men to descend, and they made their way into the inn. There, seated on a bench, as if she owned the place, was Lady Catherine.

The lady’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her two nephews in the company of her parson, not to mention the presence of Mr. Bennet. But the lady was not slow of thought. She peered at them, an imperious smile coming over her face, and then proceeded to ignore Mr. Bennet.

“So, have you finally come to your senses? I knew it would be this way. Your breeding would never allow you to forever consort with those who are so clearly unsuitable.”

“Mr. Collins,” said Darcy, bringing the parson to him amid several bows and exclamations of attention. “I assume this inn has a private dining room.”

“It does, Mr. Darcy. Lady Catherine has used them every night, for it is not prudent for a lady of her—”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Collins,” snapped Darcy, bringing Mr. Collins’s mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth. “Go to the innkeeper and secure one for our use. I do not think it wise to speak of our business where everyone in Stevenage may overhear.”

Mr. Collins dropped several more bows before scurrying off to do as he was bid. Lady Catherine glared at Darcy, but she did not object. Anyone could have seen that Darcy was displeased, and his companion’s countenances were no less stony. She maintained her haughty demeanor as she rose to follow them to the private room which was quickly obtained by the parson.

“Let me say something before we begin,” said Mr. Bennet, forestalling any discussion once they had entered the parlor. His implacable glare settled on Lady Catherine, who did not even deign to notice him. “You, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, are a foul and loathsome woman.”

Lady Catherine’s nostrils flared, and she turned on Mr. Bennet, flames rising in her eyes. But Mr. Bennet was not about to be deterred from making his sentiments known. “What kind of woman sets a man the likes of Wickham on a woman she does not know for the purpose of harming her? You disgust me. Were it not for your nephews, of whom I think highly, I would insist the only place fit for you is Bedlam.”

Though incensed, Lady Catherine did not reply to Mr. Bennet. “Do you both mean to sit there and allow this . . . man to speak of me in such a fashion?”

“I happen to agree with him,” replied Fitzwilliam.

“If it were my choice, I would see you in Bedlam,” added Darcy. “Can you deny anything Mr. Bennet said? Can you refute what we have learned from your foolish parson?”

Lady Catherine sniffed and turned away. Darcy was not about to allow it.

“Well?” the woman flinched at his raised voice. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“It appears I was correct,” said Lady Catherine, sniffing in disdain. “You have lost your head for a country minx. And you are no better, Fitzwilliam, for I have heard you were vying with Darcy for the little adventuress. Is she in heat, to be provoking you both to leave your senses and chase after her like rutting dogs?”

“I have never struck a woman before,” snarled Mr. Bennet, “but I am tempted to at this very minute. Do not say one more word about my daughter, or I will not be responsible for my actions!”

Again, Lady Catherine turned her haughty indifference on Mr. Bennet, before turning away to address Darcy. “It matters little what this man says. Your own opinion is also irrelevant. I have discovered information which will secure your compliance.”

“Oh?” asked Darcy. “And what might that be?”

“Mr. Wickham has informed me of his attempt to elope with your sister last summer. If you do not do as I demand, I will publish Georgiana’s disgrace to all.”

“You would attempt to ruin my sister for your own selfish designs?” demanded Darcy.

“I only act to defend you from yourself!” said Lady Catherine with some heat.

“Then you are a fool,” interrupted Fitzwilliam. “Believing anything Wickham says is a path fraught with peril. There was never any attempt to elope with Georgiana. Her companion, Mrs. Annesley, is a diligent guardian. Wickham played you for a fool.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes widened, and she attempted to deny it. “He informed me of the matter in full! He gave me facts, locations, and details which could not be contrived.” Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “You are attempting to deceive me by claiming it did not happen. But I know the truth.”

“And did you take the time to corroborate Wickham’s story?” asked Darcy. “Where was this attempt supposed to have taken place?”

“Why would I corroborate it when he shared the facts of the matter with me?” At Darcy’s glare, the woman gave in. “It was in Ramsgate. He informed me how he met her there seemingly by chance, and how he made love to her, eventually eliciting an agreement to elope to Gretna Green.”

“Then why did he not?”

“He informed me that you thwarted him at the last moment.”

“How convenient,” murmured Fitzwilliam.

“And where was her companion while Wickham was perpetrating his nefarious schemes?” asked Darcy.

“Her companion was his confederate,” replied Lady Catherine, her voice exuding smugness. “You see, Darcy, I not only have the details, I am also not afraid to use them to compel you to do as I command.”

Darcy was unable to believe what he was hearing. He had always known Lady Catherine to be insistent upon having her own way. But for her to descend to such a betrayal was more than he could fathom.

“Am I to assume that Wickham made this story out of whole cloth?” asked Mr. Bennet. Darcy could only nod. “Then I revise my opinion, sir—your aunt should be consigned to Bedlam as soon as may be. She is clearly beyond any hope of amendment.”

Darcy could not disagree, and he was certain Fitzwilliam was caught in the same snare of disbelief. Even Mr. Collins, who would never hear anything against his patroness, was looking at her, unable to fathom what he was hearing.

For Lady Catherine’s part, she only directed a withering glare at Mr. Bennet. “Your opinion, Mr. Bennet, is neither needed nor wanted. You may leave directly, as your presence is not necessary. You should be grateful that you have emerged from this situation with your daughter intact. You should look for husbands for your daughters at your level of society—perhaps a tenant farmer will do?”

While Darcy might have expected Mr. Bennet to respond with angry words, instead he only regarded Lady Catherine, sardonic amusement evident in his condescending smile. The lady did not miss it, but she decided to ignore it.

“Now that you know how it shall be, Darcy, we shall plan your wedding immediately. A spring wedding in Kent would be a lovely affair.”

“You will not be planning any wedding,” rasped Darcy, as angry as he had ever been in his life. “In fact, I am considering adding my voice to Mr. Bennet’s regarding your suitability to be housed in an asylum.”

“Darcy—”

“Be silent, Madam!” Darcy rose and bent over, putting his face only inches from hers, daring her to say another word. She fell silent, though Darcy thought it was due to the shock of being contradicted rather than being cowed by his anger.

“As I informed you before, Lady Catherine, listening to Wickham spew his vitriol is fraught with peril. Rarely does the truth pass his lips. In this instance, he has deceived you, for Georgiana was in my company all summer. Furthermore, I have several witnesses who will corroborate my assertion that she was with me at my family’s lodge in the lake country. Among their number are not only Fitzwilliam but your own brother. Do you not recall the invitation I extended to you and Anne to join us?” Darcy snorted with contempt. “You refused, informing us that Anne was too delicate to travel so far.”

Shocked, Lady Catherine’s gaze darted to Fitzwilliam. He sat with his arms crossed, glaring at Lady Catherine as if she was something foul. Then he slowly nodded his head.

“Furthermore, it is beyond vile to threaten your own niece—the daughter of your dearly departed sister—with derision and infamy to further your own selfish designs.

“Finally, I might wonder why, after you thought you possessed the means necessary to ensure my compliance, you still set your attack dog on Miss Elizabeth. Should you not simply have called me here and told me of your information , demanding that I bow to your will? Why attempt to ruin Miss Elizabeth at all?”

“Because the little adventuress deserved to be punished for her temerity,” said Lady Catherine, speaking without thinking. The woman had never known when it was best to simply stay silent.

“You may now consider all congress between the Darcys and the de Bourghs hereby severed,” rasped Darcy. It was all he could do to restrain himself from laying hands on the woman and administering a more physical form of vengeance. “I will not associate with a woman who can consider such actions. You may be assured that if you contact me again, your letters will be returned unopened. If you should choose to show yourself at any of my properties, you will be barred entrance. Do not come to Pemberley, and do not attempt entrance to my London home, for I will take great pleasure in throwing you from my house where all society can see your shame.”

“Darcy!” exclaimed Lady Catherine, shocked.

Darcy only glared at the woman and rose, quitting the room with a few long strides. He cared not what Fitzwilliam said to her, or if the earl ever heard of her shameful actions. For Darcy, he was through with the woman. He would never call her aunt again.

“Darcy!”

Whirling and glaring at the owner of the voice, Darcy noted his cousin, Anne, approaching him at a hurried pace. Darcy scowled at her; he did not wish to endure his cousin at present, not when the anger against his aunt was filling him with the need to break something. He spun on his heel and walked out of the inn, knowing as he did so that Anne would follow.

“Darcy! Why will you not speak to me?”

Having attained the courtyard outside the inn, Darcy spun on his heel, causing Anne to jerk back in sudden fright.

“Because I can tolerate no more of your foolishness. It ends now!”

“Of what foolishness do you speak?”

With a growl, Darcy began to pace the driveway, throwing his hands up in the air with frustration. “This matter of your mother’s desire to see us wed. The lengths to which she will go astound and horrify me.”

“I do not understand,” said Anne, though her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Mama only said Miss Bennet would be made to see reason.”

“Your mother is a liar and a madwoman,” spat Darcy.

Anne’s eyes widened. “I cannot understand you.”

“And I will not explain it. If you wish to understand, speak to that virago you call a mother. If she can be trusted to speak the truth.”

“Darcy,” said Anne, “have we not always been destined to wed? Your mother and mine agreed to it while we are young. For what possible reason do you resist?”

“Why should you do everything your mother says?” asked Darcy. “Has she complete control over your life? Do you think she even cares about your wishes? Of course, she does not! She merely commands and you obey.

“My advice to you, Anne, is to seek a way to win your freedom from your mother, for I shall never marry you. Perhaps Uncle Hugh would be willing to help, but I have severed my connection with your mother. I will never see her again.

“Now, if you will excuse me.”

With only a trace of a bow, Darcy turned on his heel and marched away. He made his way to the carriage and stepped inside, determined to wait in its confines of the rest of the party. He did not wish anyone to witness his agitation. He hoped that the rest of the company would return quickly, for Darcy wished to return to Longbourn to see for himself that Miss Elizabeth was well.