Chapter 19 #2
She was sitting limply in her chair, her arm and hand draped over the arm of the wingback, her listless gaze on the fire.
Even the warm glow of the fire could not entirely hide her usual pallor, the dull disinterest in her eyes and the sallowness of her complexion.
Her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, hovered nearby, ostensibly knitting but instead fussing around the young woman in a manner that Richard, at least, would find thoroughly irritating.
His heart was wrung with pity; poor Anne had been sickly from her very infancy.
Even when they were children together, she had participated in none of the sports of childhood, running and playing, but instead had sat on the sidelines beneath sunshades watching her cousins.
She had not grown stronger with age and now spent most of her time in a state of apathetic lethargy.
It was just as well, Richard thought privately, that she had not been thrust into the role of mistress of a large estate.
He doubted that she had been taught to serve in such a position, since her mother insisted on ruling Rosings with an iron fist. Richard also believed that Anne’s health was likely too poor to allow her to carry the requisite heir.
Lady Anne Darcy, her niece’s namesake, had also been delicate and had suffered numerous miscarriages between her two healthy births. Sadly, she had died young.
At last, footsteps in the hall alerted those in the drawing room to the approach of the other guests.
Lord Matlock sat up and looked towards the door, and Richard withdrew his wandering attention to follow his father’s glance.
The door swung open, and their butler stepped inside with three figures following in his wake.
Richard’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Darcy and his wife were expected; Georgiana, who was half a step behind her brother, was not.
She had always been nervous and tongue-tied in the redoubtable presence of Lady Catherine, and as a result, avoided her aunt whenever possible.
He wondered what had brought her tonight.
“Mr., Mrs., and Miss Darcy,” the butler said and retreated out of the room.
Richard, who was the only one who had met Mrs. Darcy before, stepped forward and said, “Good evening, all of you. Father, Ladies, may I please introduce you to Mrs. Darcy. Mrs. Darcy, please allow me to introduce you to Lord Matlock, Lady Matlock, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Anne de Bourgh, and Mrs. Jenkinson.”
Elizabeth Darcy curtsied, Lord Matlock bowed, Lady Matlock and her daughters curtsied, while Lady Catherine merely glowered and her daughter remained in a mournful heap by the fire with her companion at her side.
“It is an honor to meet you all at last,” Mrs. Darcy said with a smile.
“We would have been pleased to meet you far earlier,” Lady Catherine said abruptly and with no cheer. “Indeed, I am puzzled as to why I was not invited to your wedding, Mrs. Darcy. It seems a most peculiar decision.”
Darcy, whose eyes were narrowed, spoke for the first time.
“We did not invite any of you because I thought it likely that you would protest, and I had no intention of allowing one of the most sacred days of my life, my marriage to Elizabeth, to be interrupted by relations who have no right to interfere with my decisions.”
These were undoubtedly fighting words, and Lady Catherine swelled up and said, “Interfered? Indeed, I would have interfered! You were betrothed to Anne, and…”
“I was never betrothed to Anne,” Darcy said in an unwavering voice, stepping in front of his wife and sister and glowering down into his aunt’s face. “It was an idea you dreamed up when I was but a child…”
Richard stepped forward, prepared to assist Darcy if needed, only to watch in surprise and amusement as Mrs. Darcy reached out to link her arm in Georgiana’s, whereupon the pair walked over to where Anne was huddled by the fire.
Richard, confident that Darcy had his aunt firmly in hand, switched direction and joined Elizabeth Darcy and Georgiana looking down on Anne, who looked uneasy.
“Miss de Bourgh,” she said, “I do not mean to intrude, but I did wish to speak to you, if you are willing. Fitzwilliam has told me so much about you that I feel as if I know you already.”
This was said in such a kindly tone that Anne straightened a little, smiled weakly, and said, “Erm, yes, of course.”
She looked nervously over to her mother, who was now arguing loudly with Darcy, while the Matlocks stood by looking harassed, and then Anne gestured toward the chairs nearby. “Will you not sit down?”
Elizabeth and Georgiana did so, and Elizabeth said, “I feel as if I ought to apologize for taking Fitzwilliam from you, Miss de Bourgh. You have every reason to be upset, as he is a marvelous husband. On the other hand, I will not pretend that I regret the decision, so perhaps an apology is inappropriate.”
This was said in such a mischievous manner that Anne apparently could not keep from smiling.
She glanced again at her noisy mother, and then said softly, “Indeed, Mrs. Darcy, you are welcome to him! I esteem my cousin Darcy a great deal, but he is a quiet man, as am I. I am certain he is blessed to have a more lively wife. Moreover, I have long been aware that my health is so poor that…”
She trailed off, hesitated, and then whispered, “I am not at all convinced that I should marry at all, but Lady Catherine...”
Georgiana, to Richard’s surprise, reached forward to clasp her cousin’s thin hand. “I understand entirely,” she said. “Your mother is a force of nature, and saying ‘no’ to her feels like saying ‘no’ to the wind. Now that Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam are married, though…”
She looked at Elizabeth, who smiled and said, “We wish to invite you to live with us whenever you like, Miss de Bourgh, and I am serious about that. In the past, that was of course impossible, given your tacit engagement, but now, it would be entirely appropriate.”
Anne turned a bemused look on Georgiana, who said, “Do say you will, Anne! Elizabeth and I have such fun together, and I promise you will enjoy yourself more with us than being locked up at Rosings.”
Anne’s eyes crinkled, and she said, “I think I would like that, thank you. Might Mrs. Jenkinson join me?”
Richard was startled by this, as he thought the companion to be rather tiresome, but Elizabeth promptly said, “Of course! Mrs. Jenkinson, I hope you will accompany Miss de Bourgh?”
Mrs. Jenkinson smiled. “I would be happy to do so.”
The door opened to reveal the butler, who called the company to dinner as he regally ignored the altercation between the plum-colored Lady Catherine and the obviously irritated Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Richard made the hasty decision to step forward and offer his arm to Lady Catherine, since it would clearly be awkward for Darcy to do so.
She was muttering under her breath, but she took his arm, and the pair followed Lord and Lady Matlock out of the drawing room, down the hall, and into the dining room, while Darcy, his wife, and the other ladies trailed behind them.
This was going to be a long evening, but oddly enough, he was more concerned about Anne and Georgiana than Elizabeth Darcy, who seemed to be entirely unperturbed by Lady Catherine’s disapprobation. She was an incredible lady, Mrs. Darcy. His cousin had chosen well indeed.
***
Elizabeth’s Bedchamber
One Hour Past Midnight
“Go to bed, Marianne,” Elizabeth told her abigail, whose eyes were drooping.
“Yes, Madame,” Marianne said, bobbing her head and leaving the room.
Elizabeth glanced toward the fire, which was throwing out welcome heat, and made her way over to her bed, whose sheets had been warmed by pans only a few minutes previously.
She crawled into bed and pulled the covers over herself, relishing the relief of lying down at last. She was incredibly tired, more than she expected, though to be fair, the evening had been a long one.
But she was not afraid of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Indeed, she found the older woman rather more pathetic than anything else; a woman trying to retain her position of power when her younger relations were choosing their own paths in life.
At least Anne de Bourgh was planning to stay with the Darcys starting in a few days. The poor lady needed a place to breathe freely.
The door that connected Elizabeth to the sitting room opened, and she smiled at the sight of a tall, dim form stepping as softly into the room.
“I am still awake,” she said.
Her husband picked up his pace, and within a minute, was curled up in bed next to her.
Elizabeth sighed again, relishing the warmth of his bulk.
Darcy House was well built and boasted excellent windows, but there was nothing as comforting on a cold winter’s night as a large and loving husband at her back.
“I feel as if I should apologize for exposing you to such a dreadful dinner,” Darcy murmured.
She chuckled and said, “Do not worry, Fitzwilliam. I had a fine time.”
“Lady Catherine was obnoxious and annoying,” her husband remarked.
Elizabeth laughed, turned over, and lifted a hand to blindly run it over her husband’s cheek.
“I assure you I did not mind in the least, darling,” she said. “She has no power over us, after all, and I was thankful to meet Lord and Lady Matlock and to invite Anne to stay with us.”
“My dear, you are incredible,” Darcy whispered. “I was so annoyed by my aunt that I was tempted to walk out at times, and yet you managed her rancor with aplomb.”
“I am wonderful,” Elizabeth agreed with mock gravity.
“You are,” he agreed with a kiss.
Elizabeth turned over again, closed her eyes, nestled closer to her beloved, and drifted off to sleep.