Chapter Twenty-One
Refreshed from the carriage ride, Darcy stepped into the corridor outside the room his aunt routinely gave him to find Richard waiting. “Afraid to confront our aunt alone?”
“Our aunt?” Richard said quietly, tension evident in the set of his jaw.
“Our aunt,” Darcy reiterated firmly to reassure his cousin.
Richard eased into a sour smile. “If you must know, yes, I am. I didn’t visit her once in London, a fact of which she repeatedly informed me via letters. I even volunteered for duty on Christmas to let someone who actually wanted to be with his family do so.”
“You didn’t miss anything worthwhile.” Darcy turned and marched down the wide hallway, saying, “We should get this over with, then.”
As they returned down Rosings’ grand staircase, Richard asked the butler, “Where can we locate the lady of the house this afternoon, Simms?”
“Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh and the Misses Bennet are in the octagonal parlor, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Richard raised his eyebrows, as that was not their aunt’s usual haunt. “Indeed?”
“I can show you the way?” Simms suggested.
Darcy shook his head.
“We know the way,” Richard translated, adding, “Thank you,” before setting out for the far side of the house. As they walked, he noted, “Simms didn’t mention Mrs. Jenkinson,” in reference to Anne’s usual lady’s companion.
Unable to resist the jab, Darcy said, “As you did not visit Lady Catherine in London, you don’t know that Mrs. Jenkinson is on an extended holiday. With Miss Bennet and Miss Mary visiting Rosings, Anne decided she’d no need for a paid companion at this time.”
“Anne decided?” Richard echoed, looking at Darcy with eyebrows raised.
“Yes. I told you, Anne makes decisions now.”
Richard shook his head slightly but made no further comment.
As they neared the octagonal parlor, the reason behind their aunt’s choice of room became clear. Ahead, someone played a light, bright melody on the room’s grand piano, one of Lady Catherine’s most prized possessions.
“I wonder if Miss Mary gave in to Aunt Catherine’s offer of lessons after all,” Darcy murmured, greatly impressed with whoever the instructor was.
Richard shrugged.
A rich, sweet alto joined the music, and Darcy instantly recognized the voice as Elizabeth’s.
“Miss Mary sings delightfully,” Richard said.
“That’s not Miss Mary.”
They entered the large, octagonal room that jutted from the back side of the house, permitting a plethora of windows.
In the summer, even heavy curtains hardly cooled the space enough to make it habitable, but in the heart of winter, a welcome warmth enveloped them.
In the center of the room, denoted by an intricate tile design, Elizabeth played and sang at the grand piano.
To the right, a wide chair stood among a cluster of lush plants imported from the tropics, Lady Catherine resplendent as any queen upon it, her hands resting atop the lion’s head of her cane.
Anne and Miss Mary stood between her ladyship and the piano, at easels, sketching away.
“Darcy, Richard,” Lady Catherine greeted, voice reverberating through the high-ceilinged chamber. “You are late. If you left London promptly this morning, as I recommended, you should have been here half an hour ago.”
Elizabeth’s performance had halted when his aunt spoke, and she stood from the piano bench, face curious as she assessed Richard. Darcy tamped down a ridiculous surge of jealousy at not being the point of her attention. She turned her gaze on him, smiled, and started across the room.
“We did arrive a half hour ago,” Richard replied. He crossed to their aunt and issued a low bow. “We merely wished to be presentable.”
Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes for a moment then, apparently finding their behavior regarding presentability acceptable, said, “Richard, as you failed to present yourself properly in London, I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet. Miss Bennet, Miss Mary, this is my nephew, younger son of the Earl of Matlock, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.”
Richard bowed to both ladies, giving Elizabeth an overly keen and assessing look, appearing far too interested for Darcy’s comfort. Richard turned then to greet Anne as Darcy came forward to issue salutations of his own.
Much to Darcy’s relief, when he stepped back from bowing to his aunt, Elizabeth came to stand at his side.
A disquiet within, to which he’d given a hundred excuses, eased, and he couldn’t deny that the real culprit had been missing Elizabeth Bennet.
The only pall over his relief was the news he brought her, further unaccountable and possibly unsettling news about Miss Bingley and Wickham.
He pressed that from his thoughts and concentrated on the ongoing pleasantries.
Once greetings were thoroughly exchanged, Richard observed, “This is not your usual parlor, Aunt Catherine.”
“No,” Lady Catherine said from her chair, for she hadn’t risen. “We are here for the light, and so Miss Bennet may entertain us while Anne and Miss Mary sketch me. It is the least they can do to thank me for providing lessons.”
“We never suggested we wouldn’t sketch you, only that we require more practice,” Anne said a touch tartly.
Richard cast Darcy a quick, startled look at hearing their cousin speak at all, let alone use such an aggrieved tone with her mother.
Darcy returned a look meant to imply that he’d informed Richard of the change in Anne.
Richard gave a slight shrug as if to say, ‘You cannot blame me for not believing you.’
“The best way to practice is to practice,” Lady Catherine stated mildly, then turned back to Richard. “Neither has produced anything remotely worth framing yet. Still, they’ve shown enough improvement that I’ve decided to keep up their lessons.”
“Thank you, Lady Catherine,” Miss Mary said, her relief making it evident that Darcy’s aunt hadn’t shared her decision previously.
“Well, Richard,” Lady Catherine said, ignoring Miss Mary. “What have you to say about not calling on us in London? And don’t claim military duties. I checked and nothing was required of you and you’ve been doing nothing more than lounging about in the Matlock London home.”
Blandly, Richard said, “I’m sure I don’t know to what you refer, Aunt Catherine. I’ve been quite busy putting my affairs in order so I might come visit you here.”
“Harrumph.”
“Mother, you’ve been sitting for some time,” Anne said. “As have Darcy and Richard. Perhaps we should all take a walk. I would enjoy showing my cousins the Murphys’ progress in the cottages.”
Miss Mary brightened. “Oh yes, we should show them.”
Lady Catherine thunked her cane on the floor. “A walk indeed. Walks are for young people.”
“Then may we young people take one?”
Lady Catherine’s gaze shifted from face to face. “Certainly. I would enjoy a break from the tiresome presence of youth.”
“Miss Bennet?” Darcy said quickly, offering Elizabeth his arm, afraid Richard might change his mind about courting Anne now that he’d seen Elizabeth’s beauty and poise.
“Anne, Miss Mary, allow me to escort you both,” Richard said, ever gallant.
“I expect you all back in time to change for dinner,” Lady Catherine said in response to their farewells.
In short order, they’d all donned their outerwear and reconvened, Richard, Anne and Miss Mary leading the way as they set out for one of the nearest cottages.
There’d been a brief, perplexing discussion between Anne and Miss Mary, the point of which eluded Darcy, before precisely which cottage they should visit was settled upon.
Elizabeth, although appearing amused, had offered no opinion.
Now, she walked beside Darcy, a mitten covered hand on his arm, stride shorter than usual as they lagged slightly behind.
“You are indifferent to which cottage we visit?” he asked, eager for her conversation and loath to ruin her mood yet by bringing up Miss Bingley and Wickham.
“I have yet to see any of the Murphys’ work here, and so am indifferent to which we observe today.”
“Anne and Miss Mary have already made an inspection?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I’ve been going over the papers concerning Mr. Collins’ property with your aunt. We’ve been in Rosings only a few days, as you know, but they’ve ridden out on each of them. Mary says Miss de Bourgh is quite proficient with her low phaeton.”
“She is. Until recently, driving her phaeton was the only way in which Anne expressed any sort of personality.”
That earned him a quick look. “Was her mother truly so domineering?”
Wryly, Darcy said, “You have met her.”
“I could never manage such meekness,” Elizabeth replied.
“No. I cannot imagine you doing so.”
“Is that a censure, Mr. Darcy?”
“It is a compliment, Miss Bennet.”
They walked in silence for a moment, the lively chatter of the other three drifting back down the path.
The sky above was leaden, promising more snow ere morning.
A layer already crunched beneath their booted feet and Elizabeth’s presence by his side warmed Darcy in a way warm boots never could.
He reveled in the ease of their silence.
Nonetheless, it occurred to him to say, “That was a lovely piece you played. I’m sorry to have interrupted it.”
“You will not be sorry for long. It’s one of the songs your aunt gave me for Christmas. She requests it at least three times a day.”
“You do not care for it?”
“Fortunately, I adore it. It perfectly suits both my limited ability to play and to sing.”
“You’re being overly modest. You do both admirably.”
“More compliments, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“And yet still not so many as you deserve.”
She cast him a startled look before becoming contemplative. They fell into silence again, but she cast him several more looks askance. Ahead, the road curved, but Elizabeth didn’t lengthen her stride to stay in sight of the others.
“Any word of Mrs. Clegg?” she asked.