Chapter 29
Elizabeth stared in amazed delight at the tall gentleman, whose usually austere expression was now one of tenderness, and yes, love.
“You ... you love me?” she managed to gasp, her face brightening with incredulous joy.
“He is not permitted to love you!” Lady Catherine screeched hysterically. “He is promised to my daughter, Anne!”
“Be quiet, Lady Catherine,” her nephew commanded absently. “Yes, dear Miss Elizabeth, I love you to the very depths of my being.”
“Then yes, Mr. Darcy,” the girl replied, tears of happiness spilling down her cheeks. “I accept your hand in marriage.”
There was a most unaccustomed squeal of joy from Jane, and Bingley laughed aloud with delight.
It took a full five seconds for Lady Catherine to recover enough to speak, but when she did so, she screamed so loudly that all other conversation was drowned out, “No, no! This cannot be! Darcy, you are engaged to Anne! You ... you ... hussy! How dare you reach above your station in this way?”
Darcy and Bingley looked at one another and stepped forward to grasp the lady by her arms and drag her out of the room.
Elizabeth watched in awe as the lady was pushed out into the hall and turned her attention to her dearest sister, “Jane, did that really happen?”
“Indeed it did,” Miss Bennet replied with happy tears in her eyes, “You are engaged to Mr. Darcy!”
/
Army barracks
London
“Just a warning,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said to his friend, Colonel Milner. “Wickham is a slippery character. I suggest you take care that he not duck away into the seedy underbelly of London before your ships depart for Canada.”
His fellow colonel cast a jaundiced eye toward George Wickham, who was standing sullenly at attention after giving the enlistment oath before a magistrate.
“I appreciate the caution, Fitzwilliam,” he replied, turning to the two infantry men standing near the exit of his office. “Escort Private Wickham to the stockade and put him in irons.”
Wickham let out a brief yelp, which subsided when Milner glared at him menacingly.
“Have a charming trip. I believe the ocean can be quite exciting this time of year,” Fitzwilliam sang cheerfully as the man was marched away. Wickham glared at Richard but wisely did not speak.
Once the two colonels were alone, Fitzwilliam nodded to his friend, “Thank you for your assistance in this matter.”
“I am quite certain Wickham is going to be more trouble than he is worth, but of course I am always pleased to assist the son of the Earl of Matlock.”
Richard grinned, “What do you want in exchange for this favor, you rogue?”
“Oh, I am not quite certain,” the other man declared airily, “but I will think of something. But now, I have a fine bottle of Madeira that is calling both our names. Have a seat!”
/
“You are engaged to Anne, Nephew!” Lady Catherine howled. “Anne!!”
Darcy sighed and sat down on a nearby couch. He had sent Bingley away after both men, assisted by Bingley’s butler, had hauled the lady into a chilly parlor across from the sitting room where Elizabeth remained with the support of her elder sister. His ankle, naturally enough, was outraged at being treated so cruelly and throbbed relentlessly.
“Would you find my valet and ask him to bring the crutches?” he asked of Bingley’s butler, whose face was more than ordinarily blank.
“Crutches? Why do you need crutches?” the lady demanded, momentarily diverted.
“I injured my ankle some time ago, and while I can walk on it for much of the day, there are times when I require crutches.”
Lady Catherine huffed, “There must be something in the air of this wretched county! You injured your ankle, my rector supposedly died from being tossed from a horse, and Miss Elizabeth has an ugly knot on her forehead, presumably from clumsily stumbling over her feet. I cannot imagine what you are thinking, proposing to such an ill favored, graceless girl! You must be mad! But I can arrange everything, Darcy. No doubt Miss Elizabeth’s father will accept a bribe to break the engagement, not that there is an engagement, because you are promised to Anne …”
“Aunt!” he interrupted fiercely, “I am not and never was engaged to Anne, and I am irrevocably committed to marrying Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I know you are rarely content to admit defeat, but I beg you to consider our family name and depart for Kent immediately! I do not care to cause a public breach between Rosings and Pemberley, but I promise you that Elizabeth is now my primary responsibility.”
Lady Catherine stared down at him, her bosom heaving, for a full two minutes. Darcy allowed himself to entertain a frail hope that the lady would accept her defeat, but naturally that was not to be.
“This cannot be permitted!” she declared at last, her eyes flashing, the wrinkles in her face deepening in her fury. “I will not rest until this absurd engagement has been broken off; indeed, I shall proceed into that pathetic little hamlet, find the local magistrate and insist that the man look into this matter of Mr. Collins’s convenient death. I promise you that I will not leave this muddy backwater until you are free to marry my daughter, as it has always been meant to be.”
“Lady Catherine! Stop!” Darcy exclaimed, rising painfully to his feet.
The woman strode imperiously to the door, only to pause with her hand on the knob for one parting shot, “I take no leave of your pathetic, spineless friend, Mr. Bingley, or of those Bennet hoydens. I am most seriously displeased!”
/
Colonel Fitzwilliam halted in front of the Earl of Matlock’s elegant town house, swung off his horse, handed his reins to the waiting boy, and rapidly climbed the steps to the stately main door.
The butler opened it with smooth grace and bowed, “It is good to see you, sir. Her ladyship is in the east sitting room.”
Richard nodded and wandered casually down the hallway and into the sitting room where his mother, Lady Matlock, was seated near a window toiling busily on a piece of attractive white tatting. That in itself was not a surprise, but her companion caused Richard Fitzwilliam to halt in astonishment.
“Anne?” he demanded.
It was indeed his cousin, Anne de Bourgh, dressed in an expensive and unbecoming blue lustring dress, and the young lady looked far more animated than he had observed in many a year.At her side, also looking more cheerful than usual, was Mrs. Jenkinson, his cousin’s paid companion.
Anne rose to her feet and smiled happily, “It is indeed me, Richard. I have run away!”
Her cousin goggled, “Run away?”
“Yes, from Mother. Lady Matlock wrote me some time ago inviting me here to Matlock House whenever I wished to come, and when Mother disappeared in haste early this morning, I decided this was the perfect time to impose upon your mother’s kindness. Mrs. Jenkinson helped bribe a fearful coachman to hitch up the horses and drive us to Town, and here we are!”
“’Tis no imposition at all, dear Anne,” Rachel Fitzwilliam said placidly. “I am most pleased to have you here as long as you like.”
“I admit to being quite at sea,” Richard admitted as he settled down next to Anne. “Where is Lady Catherine?”
“She rushed off to Hertfordshire this morning,” Anne explained, “to an estate near a little town called Meryton.”
The colonel, who had been feeling entirely satisfied with life, quailed noticeably, “To Netherfield Hall?”
“Indeed, and based on your expression, you must have a guilty conscience about our mutual cousin Darcy? Is it true that he has fallen in love with a murderous hoyden?”
Lady Matlock set down her tatting, her usual tranquility clearly ruffled, “Is it true, Richard? Is that boy about to contract a mésalliance ?”
“Er ...”
“I suppose that means yes,” his mother said in an accusing voice. “Richard, you are supposed to look after Darcy and prevent fortune hunters from taking advantage of him.”
“I know very little about the lady in question,” Fitzwilliam replied carefully, “but I assure you she is not a fortune hunter, nor is she a murderess. She is an intelligent lady of gentle birth, blessed with wit and diligence, and while her connections are not the best, I am quite certain Darcy will be very happy with her.”
Lady Matlock sighed deeply but she was too indolent to worry herself about the vagaries of a stray nephew, “Very well. I merely hope that your Father does not kick up a fuss on the matter.”
Richard decided that it would be wise to change the subject, “Anne, I am glad that you took this opportunity to flee to London and hope that you will enjoy your time attending theaters and parties and the like. You certainly deserve some pleasure after being trapped in Kent for all these years with Lady Catherine keeping you wrapped in lambs’ wool.”
Anne took a moment to pour tea for her cousin, which she handed over to him, “Yes, Richard, I do plan to attend parties and dances, but I will not do so for mere entertainment. Now that Darcy has jilted me, I must find myself a husband.”
Richard winced, “I am quite certain that Darcy did not mean to hurt you.”
She shot him a startled look and laughed aloud, “Oh dear, I must work on my tone, it seems. I am absolutely delighted that Darcy will marry elsewhere, and I am free from being hauled off to the frigid north, to Pemberley. No, I never wanted to marry Darcy as we would not suit well. We are both quiet, solemn people. I do, however, wish to marry as quickly as possible. I cannot take control of Rosings until my 30th birthday unless I am married.”
Lady Matlock lifted her eyes from her tatting again, “Do you have any particular requirements in a husband, Anne? I daresay I can find a pleasing man of good birth for you.”
Anne leaned back in her chair and tapped her lips thoughtfully with one rather bony finger, “Let us see, dear Aunt. I wish for a kind and cheerful man with an outgoing character who can offset my own shrinking nature.”
“Must he have a fortune?” her aunt inquired in a professional tone.
“No,” the younger lady answered after cogitating a moment. “No, Rosings is a very wealthy estate, and thus my husband need not bring money into our marriage.”
“My dear Anne, I am the very man for you,” Richard exclaimed with a laugh and a grin. “Kindly, cheerful, outgoing, of good birth, and poor.”
Anne de Bourgh turned her attention onto her cousin and smiled, “Richard, you are entirely correct. Will you accept my hand in marriage?”
His smile faded away and he regarded her gravely, “Truly?”
“Truly,” she responded, now looking rather unsure, “but of course if you were only funning, I understand.”
He moved closer and dropped to his knees before his cousin, “Anne, I cannot say with truth that I love you in a romantic sense, but if you will take me as your husband, I promise to serve and care for you for as long as we both shall live.”
“I accept those conditions,” the lady replied, and now tears sparkled in her eyes.
“Then it is done,” Richard declared joyfully. He kissed her hand gallantly and turned to his mother, who was staring at the couple with her mouth agape.
“What just happened?” Lady Matlock gasped.
“Your second son has captured one of the greatest heiresses in all of England, dear Mama, that is what happened!”