Fascination & Falsehoods (The Silver Screen Retellings #2)

Prologue

Rosings Park, Kent

Lady Catherine de Bourgh smiled as she stared into the mirror, taking in the sight of herself and her dearest friend, Frances Bennet.

They were both finally out of their mourning garb for Sir Lewis and Mr. Bennet, and today was the first time the two women were wearing cheerful colors, for it was Fanny Bennet’s wedding day.

Lady Catherine had made the match herself, for she was always determined to be useful.

A month after taking in the poor woman who had lost her husband in a carriage accident not a mile from Rosings, she had begun to think of matching Fanny with the vicar of Hunsford.

Of course, she would be loath to part from her new friend, whose residence at Rosings with her two young daughters had given her such comfort during the year that she was obliged to remove herself from society as she did her duty to the late Sir Lewis’s memory.

They had spent every day together, watching little Jane and Elizabeth play with her darling Anne, gossiping of local matters and sharing the stories of their lives.

Perhaps Fanny Bennet was not the sort of woman Lady Catherine might have befriended amongst her set in London, for though a gentleman’s wife she was the daughter of a tradesman, but their grief and Lady Catherine’s insupportable boredom had made their friendship a welcome respite.

“Oh, my dear, how ever shall I part with you?”

“I shall be a short walk from the manor; I daresay we shall meet every day, if you wish it,” Fanny said, admiring the fine wedding gown Lady Catherine had ordered for her. “La! I am as nervous as I was the first time!”

“Mr. Cardew is a decent man, and if he does not treasure your girls, they shall be quite welcome in the nursery with Anne; I know she will be sad to see them go, and likely ask for them daily.”

Fanny smiled tearfully. “You have been too good to us! I hardly know what I would have done without you! My poor brother has been far too preoccupied with his growing business and with seeing my sister settled, and now he is courting our cousin Madeline – I am sure he would have neglected me, and I should have ended in the hedgerows when those awful Collinses took possession of Longbourn!”

“Do not distress yourself,” Lady Catherine chided her friend, who was still prone to fits of hysteria over the horrid ordeal that cost her first husband his life.

Fanny smoothed out her dress and then looked at Lady Catherine with utter misery. “What if I cannot give Mr. Cardew a son? When I lost little Mary, I was sure Mr. Bennet would never forgive me!”

Lady Catherine shook her head and smiled indulgently. “Mr. Cardew has nothing a son might expect to inherit, so it can be of little matter. He is kind enough to your girls, and he shall be an adequate father to any subsequent children – you are not four-and-twenty, Fanny!”

Fanny flashed her a brave smile, but still she fidgeted. “I wish my brother and sister might have attended – and my poor Mamma.”

Lady Catherine grimaced. Fanny’s mother had the insurmountable excuse of being six months deceased, but Mr. Gardiner and the new Mrs. Phillips were absent by their own choice.

Of course, Lady Catherine could not entirely repine that she would not be forced to socialize with a merchant and a barrister’s bride, but she was sorry that her friend’s relations did not think much of the bridegroom.

They had met him only once, when they accompanied Fanny back to Rosings after burying their mother; but of course, Mr. Cardew had not yet begun to court Fanny, so they had hardly taken a true likeness of the fellow.

Worse yet, they had failed to comprehend Lady Catherine's superior judgement in selecting the companion of her friend’s future life.

There was a knock on the door, and Lady Catherine bid the maid enter. “Apologies for the intrusion, your Ladyship….”

Lady Catherine frowned at the fidgeting servant. “Well?”

“Lord! He has changed his mind, I know he has,” Fanny cried, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” the maid cried, making a reassuring gesture before turning to Lady Catherine with unaccountable hesitancy. “Your sister has just arrived; she is in the rose parlor, weeping.”

Lady Catherine stiffened in a moment of panic. Her brother, lately made the new Earl of Matlock, had always been sickly. “You mean my sister by marriage?”

“No, your ladyship, not the countess. It is Lady Anne Darcy, your sister.”

Lady Catherine exchanged a worried look with her friend, who squeezed her hand and offered an encouraging nod.

“Of course you must go to her. We have another hour yet before we are due at the church. I will look in on our girls, and I shall come to find you when it is time. Perhaps your sister will wish to attend? She is such a charming, fashionable woman!”

Lady Catherine gave Fanny one final, swift examination, declared her to be perfectly charming and fashionable herself, and then swept from the room.

She hastened down to the parlor, still afraid of hearing ill tidings of her poor brother.

She threw open the doors and hurried to her sister’s side, a handkerchief at the ready for her sobbing sister.

“Anne, whatever is the matter? Tell me quickly, is Henry in any danger?”

Anne instantly sat up straighter and wiped her tears with the lacey handkerchief. “Oh, no! I ought not to have frightened you so! No, he is very well. They are all celebration at Matlock House; wretched creature that I am, I cannot bear it!”

Lady Catherine moved closer to her sister and drew her into a tight embrace as Anne resumed her tears. “Is the countess….?”

“She is expecting again,” Anne moaned, clinging to Lady Catherine as her body wracked with sobs.

“Oh, Annie,” Lady Catherine sighed. Her poor sister’s circumstances had taught her to be content with only one child, but of course their brother must secure the family lineage.

Anne finally spent her tears and withdrew from their embrace, hanging her head as she straightened her shoulders.

“I am heartily angry with myself for being so overcome; I ought to be sharing his and Susan’s joy at the news.

But I could not even remain with them in London; I had to get away, and I did not wish to return home just yet. ”

“Why ever not?” Lady Catherine furrowed her brows in confusion; were she the mistress of Pemberley, she would never leave the place!

“I shall only be obliged to do my duty to George, and try again for another child. I fear I am cursed! Every time there is a birth at Matlock, there is tragedy at Pemberley. I cannot bear another miscarriage, or stillborn, or an infant who lives only a fortnight – and sometimes I fear worse, as if there may be some repetition of… the incident with my poor Fitzwilliam.”

A tear rolled down Lady Catherine’s cheek, and she brushed it away before her sister could see.

“You cannot mean to avoid your husband’s bed, Anne – yours was the great love match of the family!

I am astonished you should speak of the marital act as a duty; you once drove me to distraction with tales of your… marital satisfaction.”

Anne smiled sadly. “I did love him once, very much. We were so happy together, those first years, before… After all that has happened, he is not the same man as he once was. We are both altered by so much grief, and he has dwelt solely upon his own. The only thing that brings him any pleasure is Wickham’s boy, his namesake.

I cannot stand it, and I know he comprehends how it pains me, but he cannot help himself. ”

Lady Catherine softened in indignation. “If you should like to contrive some reason for your husband to dismiss his steward, I shall consult with Henry when I am next in London. He might make it so that George discovers some misappropriated funds….”

“Oh, Cathy, I could not do that! You are dreadfully Machiavellian at times,” Anne said, swatting at her and attempting a smile. “No, I cannot deprive my husband of any joy, and I am sure I shall wish to try again to make an heir, eventually.”

“Well, I daresay he is preoccupied with the harvest; he shall not miss you for some weeks yet, if you are not ready to return home. You were meant to be another fortnight in London, were you not? Stay here with me, if you like.”

“That is just what I wish! Rosings is so lovely at this time of year, in a gloomy sort of way.” Anne stared out the window at the golden array of trees and gave a wistful sigh. She was the poet of the family, and often teased that she had her brother and sister’s share of sentimentality.

“If you will stay a month complete, I might go as far as London with you, for after I have seen to my own harvest, I intend to speak to Henry about Anne and young Reginald.”

“Really, Cathy, she is four years old!”

Lady Catherine shook her head. “Well, it seems that scolding me has cheered you.”

The sisters shared a look of wry affection, for different as they were, they had ever been fondly attached.

Lady Catherine had not her younger sister’s wit and whimsy, but she had always been protective of Anne’s blithe spirit.

As the eldest, she had practically raised her brother and sister, and even now she took all their concerns to heart.

“We will see you returned to your usual serenity, my dear Annie. You are not yet thirty – I was two years older when I delivered your namesake, after a few unsuccessful attempts of my own. I will not allow you to give up hope – I forbid it!”

Anne smiled and clasped Lady Catherine’s hands. “I knew I did well in coming to you.”

“And you have come on an auspicious day! Fanny Bennet is to be wed this morning; indeed, I believe we have but half an hour before we ought to make our way to the church. I know she would be delighted if you would join us.”

“Of course I shall; Mrs. Bennet is such an amusing young woman! Might I greet her now?”