Chapter Eighteen #2
Anne was about to speculate that she might simply endeavor to grow better acquainted with her cousin and perhaps make an ally of him, when Penelope became choked with emotion, as she had often been since Anne’s betrothal.
Anne leaned over and wrapped her arms around the stunning creature, her heart rebelling against the fear that their domestic harmony might be disrupted.
“I do see the merit of remaining in Darcy’s good graces, and it will appease my mother, which is prudent.
But I will not force such an odious task upon you, my darling.
I will put a notice in the papers and find a writer of such talents as to hold him in thrall until I can replace him with another. ”
“I was afraid you would be angry.”
“I am angry at my mother and Darcy for their high-handed bullying. I could never be cross with you, who must bear this calamity with me. But we are not to blame for the world’s cruelty—we are to be commended for adapting to it.
We shall have to work out the particulars, but we can leave that for the morning”
Penelope smiled brightly. “Then let us go to bed, dearest, and you may shower me with more compliments on my brilliance. I am determined to earn them.”
22 October, 1812—The Golden Steed Inn, Newmarket
Anne sat down stiffly beside her cousin Rupert in the parlor. “Shall I ring for tea?”
“No, I do not intend to stay long, and I would rather the servants not know I was ever here—if your mother learned that we were alone together…. But I daresay that is her reason for bringing you here.”
“I am engaged to Darcy.”
Rupert rolled his eyes. “But I am a better match now that my mourning has ended. She has made no secret of her interest in making you a countess.”
“And you object? Surely you and I are better suited. We have more common pursuits, and I have taken an eager interest in your social circle and your sporting abilities.”
Rupert smiled weakly. “And I am pleased that you have been given liberty to move more in the world. Last evening at Sir Sidney’s soirée, for instance, you were marvelously lively and animated; I have never seen you make so free with yourself.
Indeed, you spoke very candidly to my sister Roberta when you were in your cups. ”
Anne shifted nervously on the sofa. “Forgive me, I do not recall.”
“That is unsurprising; you had a great deal to drink. Enough to cause you to make certain comments about your disinterest in Darcy—about your true interest lying… elsewhere.”
“It is true that I have no special regard for Darcy.”
Rupert leveled a stern gaze at Anne. “I think you know what I refer to. I do not judge, you, Anne. With such a mother, you are entitled to whatever happiness you can manage, and you have but a year until you need not live at Lady Catherine’s mercy.
But I wed for duty the first time, and if I marry again, I want a true marriage, to a woman I love as you do Miss Lovelace.
And, Anne, Darcy deserves the same as well. He is a good man.”
“Please, please do not tell him,” Anne cried. “It must remain a secret. If my mother were to find out, I cannot bear to think what might happen to me, and to Penelope. Surely she would be sent away from me, and my heart would be broken.”
“You have my word,” Rupert said, resting a hand on his heart as he regarded Anne with pity.
Anne gave him a grateful nod and then fidgeted with the lace trimming on her gown.
“I do not know what to do. I have put Darcy off for as long as I can. I had hoped that Mother might seize the opportunity to make me a countess, and then I could start over with another year of stalling. Would you not consider it? We need not actually marry.”
“I could not do that to Darcy, and I would not wish it for myself. What if I meet the woman I truly wish to marry, and am not at liberty to pursue her because of my obligation?”
“I know all about what that is like,” Anne sighed. “I would not wish you the same distress, as much as it might make matters easier for myself.”
Rupert leaned back against the sofa and drew a flask out of his coat pocket. He took a drink and then passed it to Anne, who did likewise. “I did not come here to disappoint you. I have given the matter some thought, and I believe I can help you.”
“You could help me by feigning some little interest to my mother. Darcy need never know.”
“There is another way. Sir Sidney Parker has taken an interest in you. He spoke to me last night after dinner to ascertain whether I would be offended if he were to pay you his addresses.”
“Sir Sidney Parker,” Anne mused. He was newly knighted, but a second son with no estate of his own.
His tastes were lavish and his pursuits were not the most wholesome, but he was amiable, even boisterous, and merriment seemed to follow him.
Most women regarded him as exceptionally handsome; Anne could at least admire the fine work of his tailor, and his horsemanship was boastworthy.
He would be an amusing companion. “My mother would never consider him a better option than Darcy.”
Rupert grinned. “Does that not add to his allure a little bit?”
“His disposition is more pleasing. Rosings is so dreary, the company utterly tedious, especially since my mother gave the living at Hunsford to that babbling toady. Sir Sidney keeps amusing company and is fond of japes and revelry. If I did have to marry somebody, I should be better suited to him than to Darcy. And he strikes me as a man who is not too honorable to take a mistress, so I would not be disappointing him with my staggering lack of interest in wifely duties; he would be much occupied in his own activities, leaving me to mine.”
“That is an apt description of most marriages I have ever heard of, though not the sort I desire,” Rupert said, chuckling ruefully. “But as you say, you need only stall him until you come of age.”
“Could I hold his interest for so long as that?” Anne frowned as she glanced down at herself.
Stalling had indeed been a safer tactic than outright rebellion, when it came to avoiding her mother’s harsh and arbitrary punishments.
But Anne knew that she was not especially comely; her figure was neither tall and elegant nor beguilingly curvaceous.
Anne was plain and drab to everyone but Penelope.
Rupert made a droll face. “You are the heiress to a magnificent estate and a mighty fortune, which would complement his new title very well indeed. You cheered for him at the races purely to vex your mother, of which he was fully aware, and I believe he rather liked the mischief of it. Her disapproval will excite and tantalize him.”
“Her disapproval will only make her tighten her grasp on me; she will see me wed to Darcy before I can come of age and break it off.”
“She cannot force you.”
“Perhaps not legally, but in every other way she is quite capable of compelling me to whatever her whim. She controls the estate that is to be mine, the funds, my wardrobe, my companion, my very person. She wields the power to do a great deal of harm to me if I am not compliant.”
Rupert leaned forward in a ponderous pose. “I feel obligated to do something. Could we not bring you to London? End your engagement to Darcy—the delay will only pain him. Lady Catherine could do you no harm if we got you and your Miss Lovelace away from Rosings.”
“She would only vent her ire and malevolence on Rosings itself. I am sure she would rather destroy the place than see me supplant her as mistress next year. Already she has made such irrevocable decisions as will hurt the estate for years to come. Could you not simply postpone disappointing her for a while longer?”
Rupert nodded with a look of unbearable sympathy. “I intend to invite the whole family to Bolswick Abbey for Christmas. I will not discourage your mother, though I will reassure Darcy, if necessary, that I have no intention of poaching his bride.”
The notion of a Christmas visit filled Anne with dread.
She had not seen Darcy since their engagement was formed, though Miss Lucas’s letters still appeased him.
She may have to maintain that charade a while longer, until she could figure out how to proceed.
Her mind raced, grappling for some solution.
“I enjoy Sir Sidney’s company and envy his style of living.
I shall make an effort to give him every encouragement while we are in Newmarket.
And after Christmas, I might invent some reason to go to London and see more of him, perhaps even feign some ghastly illness that requires a lengthy visit to that seaside town he is always speaking of—what is it, Sandringham? ”
“Something like that,” Rupert said with a dismissive wave.
“Perhaps I shall see enough of Sir Sidney in London next spring that Darcy will hear of it and release me from the engagement,” Anne mused.
“I do not wish to wound him or anger him—someday I may need him as an ally against my mother—but I do not know how I can continue to placate him and yet convince him we are not well-suited.”
“It may serve you well that Roberta is so inclined to gossip; a letter from her to Georgiana about your partiality to Sir Sidney may move Darcy to release you from the engagement, and then your mother cannot force the matter. I hope it is handled gently, for Darcy’s sake.”
“It would certainly be easier if he let me go. You will have to forgive me for my lack of sympathy toward his feelings, when he gave me no consideration at all in arranging our betrothal. I cannot fathom why he finally gave in to my mother’s officious raillery about family and duty and honor; I had thought him as impervious to it as I am. ”
“For your sake, I shall bear her attempts to court me on your behalf—for now. And I shall try to help you along with Sir Sidney.” Rupert gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and waggled his brows mischievously. “Golly, I rather enjoy contriving such intrigue against Lady Catherine!”