Chapter 35
Anne held her breath, along with everyone else standing in the hallway and crowding the door from the front parlor.
“Dear Lord, who is it now?” Mrs. Wickham exclaimed.
Anne would never have expressed herself so … obtrusively … but her own thought had been similar.
The elderly houseman looked at a loss. He could not open the door without delaying their departure, but they could not leave unless he opened the door.
Another knock, more insistent this time.
“Open the door, Hill,” Mr. Bennet instructed.
The houseman did as he was bid, and Anne heard several sucks of breath behind her, followed by several whooshes when they saw the colonel standing at the threshold.
“Richard!” Anne said.
He doffed his hat, clutching it in front of his chest, a wide smile planted on his face. “Anne, just the lady for whom we were searching.”
“We? At this hour?” Anne’s confusion grew when a shadowy figure shuffled behind Richard.
More Bennets filed out to the hall, the Bingleys peeking over their heads from the parlor doorway.
Richard bowed. “I apologize for the late hour, but I stopped at the inn with a friend from London and heard that my aunt and cousin had hastened away to Longbourn with Mr. Collins and an unknown gentleman. The innkeeper was greatly agitated, fearing both for his esteemed lodger and his friends here.”
Mrs. Bennet was as eager to entertain the colonel as Anne’s mother was resolved to leave. Mr. Collins, too, seemed eager to distance himself from his family when he ought to have been rejoicing with them rather than attending to his patroness.
Richard and the stranger in the shadows allowed them to pass, but Anne lingered. “You said you were searching for me?” she asked.
Her cousin stepped aside, and the gentleman behind him moved into the light.
Anne’s heart leapt into her mouth, and tears clouded her vision.
“Come, Anne!” demanded her mother stiffly.
She ought to reply or move or do anything other than stand dumbly in place. But she could not take her eyes off the man standing before her or blink for fear he would disappear.
He was taller than she remembered, not as tall as Darcy but taller than Richard, and handsome.
So handsome. His left arm was fixed to his side with a sling matching the color of his coat, and while his collars were high, they did not completely conceal the scars running up his neck to the side of his face.
He stood widely, firmly, like a man accustomed to rolling decks and uneven wood planks.
“Patrick,” Anne’s heart whispered. What would he think of her? Embarrassed, she dropped her chin, turning to hide behind her bonnet.
“Anne, come before you catch your death of cold!” Mother said.
She did not feel the chill.
Patrick lifted her chin, swiping his thumb over her cheek when a tear escaped.
“Annie,” he said with a tenderness Anne had not heard in years.
Not since her father had died and Patrick left to make his name and fortune.
Not since he had promised he would return for her.
An eternity ago. “I came back for you, Annie.”
A sob escaped her. This had to be a dream. A cruel dream she would wake from any minute. Except his touch felt real and his nearness warmed her.
“I demand an explanation! Stand away from my daughter!” Mother protested.
Anne smiled. Her mother’s anger was real. He was real.
Richard turned to Mother. “You do not recognize this gentleman? He is so much in demand in society, I had difficulty prying him away from their clutches. Not that I blame them for wanting to honor a celebrated captain whose acts of bravery have made the papers.”
Mother huffed, quite recovered from her earlier shock. “I know everyone of consequence.”
“Excellent, then you will have no difficulty remembering Captain Patrick Gibbs of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
Patrick doffed his hat, tucking it into his arm. “Lady Catherine. My mother sends her regards.”
Several times Mother opened her mouth to speak. “Anne’s nurse? You are the son of one of my old servants?”
Patrick treated her insult lightly, swooping an elegant, impertinent bow. “At your service, madam.” He never had been intimidated by Mother.
Looking at Anne, he added, “I have risen in rank and have earned the respect of both my subordinates and my superiors. The Navy was good to me. I have won a fortune and am now in possession of a comfortable estate very near Bath.”
Anne’s stomach fluttered. “Bath?”
His smile deepened. “You spoke so often of the place, I could hardly purchase a residence elsewhere.”
He really had thought of her. After all these years. Anne thought she would burst.
She yielded her hand to him freely, gladly, feeling like a maiden in the bloom of her youth.
Pressing her palm against his heart, he said, “It took bodily injury to recognize how fortunate I was to be forced into retirement. Otherwise, I would still be aboard my ship instead of here with you. I have never been a man of superficial emotion, Anne. If you will allow me to court you, I will ask for your hand in marriage. It is my intention to love you every day for the rest of our lives.”
Joy swelled in her throat, flooding her eyes.
He took her other hand, caressing them to his chest. “There is nobody else for me but you, Anne. If you will have me.”
Mother shouted, “I object!”
Of course she did. But for the first time in Anne’s memory, she paid her mother no heed.
“Yes!” she answered.
“No, you will not! You are engaged to Darcy.”
Anne pulled her gaze from Patrick to her mother. “I have not, nor have I ever, agreed to marry my cousin when my heart has long belonged to another.”
“Are you so selfish you will forsake your family? The position you were born into? What will society say?”
Anne smiled up at Patrick. She had never felt braver or bolder. “They will say I have made quite a catch, I daresay, but, really, Mother, I do not care.”
“Obstinate, headstrong girl!”
Her mother compared her to Miss Elizabeth? Anne felt reborn. “That is the best, kindest compliment you have ever bestowed upon me. Thank you, Mama.”
Darcy pushed away from where he was listening at the window, allowing more room for Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters to elbow each other for the best vantage ground. He had heard enough.
Elizabeth pulled away from the bunched crowd, wearing the expression of one smugly satisfied with her plan. She ought to be proud.
“You did that,” he said, full of wonder for his bride’s thoughtfulness for another when she had had sufficient obstacles of her own to overcome.
“You know my aunt would never accept our union. She would have blamed you for separating me from Anne, and she would have made her life unbearable. She would have despised me, straining our relationship beyond reparation and isolating herself from anyone who supported my decision to choose you over her.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Lady Catherine will have to adjust her expectations.”
Darcy shook his head, his grin widening. “She will come around. Eventually.”
As quick as a shot, the curious onlookers scattered away from the window, sitting in the closest chairs and doing their best to look bored.
Richard entered the parlor, the glint in his eye communicating that their secret was safe with him.
The newly engaged couple followed, whom he proudly presented. Mrs. Bennet was in raptures at the sight of the gold epaulets on the blue embroidered coat.
Mr. Bennet teased, “If uniforms bring you so much pleasure, my dear, I shall have to find my white breeches.” He patted his middle. “And, perhaps, make a trip to the tailor.”
“A blue coat with brass buttons would complement them nicely,” Elizabeth added.
Richard joined them, clapping Darcy on the back. “I apologize for the delay. I was not exaggerating when I said I had to contend with society’s grasp, but the captain could not very well refuse an invitation to Carlton House.”
“The Prince Regent?” Elizabeth gasped.
“He insisted the captain attend his ball … and so, I had to wait.” Richard looked about, saying absently, “Which reminds me … I must speak to Bingley sooner rather than later, or else he will have quite a surprise when he returns to Netherfield Park.”
“What have you done?” Darcy demanded. Bingley had displayed the patience and forgiveness of a saint, delaying his wedding tour, generously opening his residence to Darcy, and riding all over Hertfordshire in search of murderous husbands. He could not in good conscience allow for any more abuse.
Richard sniggered. “You will find out soon enough. Think no more of it when you ought to be dreaming of your wedding. When is the happy day?”
“On the morrow.” Darcy would have preferred that moment, but even he must abide by the church’s rules.
“Perfect. We will be ready.” Richard slipped away to the Bingleys’, leaving Darcy to wonder who the ‘we’ were.
Loathe to permit Anne to celebrate her good fortune, Aunt Catherine joined them in the parlor, her unexpected presence provoking several sideways glances and stilting the conversation.
“Lady Catherine, it would be my honor to see you to the inn,” offered Mr. Collins. He mopped his face with a handkerchief.
Elizabeth stared at him, her expression curious, then settled, then narrow. “You are terribly nervous, Mr. Collins.”
He fumbled his handkerchief, the damp linen dropping to the floor.
Extraordinarily nervous.
Darcy, too, narrowed his eyes at the clergyman.