Anne de Bourgh stepped from her beloved’s carriage as footmen bustled about removing trunks. She stood in the shadow of Henry Amestrey and shielded her eyes from the glare of the noonday sun.
The estate had caught her breath as they approached but the main house held her transfixed. Dare she say it was as grand as Pemberley?
A sweeping drive with a large fountain led to the ornate double front doors that stood twice as tall as Anne herself and wide enough to allow two couples to enter abreast.
Henry Amestrey was such an appealing man, both in humor and appearance, and now to stand before his home Anne breathed deeply to avoid any unfortunate swooning on her part. To a young woman accustomed to homes such as Pemberley and Rosings, one would imagine her heart would not race as it did.
Henry took her arm and though she felt the urge in him to hurry to the doors and greet his parents, he maintained an easy gait. She smiled up at him and trembled at the love she found shining in his eyes.
Her welcome here would bolster her spirit in preparing for Rosings. She smiled and turned her thoughts to proper introductions as she was presented to his parents.
“Mother, Father, this is Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings Park in Kent,” he said with a catch in his voice that melted Anne’s heart.
She met his mother’s eyes and greeted her shyly. “Duchess, how lovely to meet you. Henry has told me countless stories until I feel as though we’ve met before.”
The Duchess of Ayr took her future daughter’s hand and left the men standing by the doors, much to her son’s delight. He’d known his mother would react thus and was pleased at the reception.
Henry Amestrey breathed deeply to regulate his emotions and turned to his father. The Duke of Ayr grasped his hand tightly, pulling him forward and whispered quietly with much amusement. “Your mother has always wished for a daughter as lovely as your Anne. The fact that she is the daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh took some convincing on my part, but your mother is eager to give the young woman a chance.”
Henry followed his father inside, their conversation moving to matters of the estate and where Henry and Anne might live once they were wed.
Henry halted just inside the entry, looking about. “Are my brothers not home then?”
The Duke sighed and urged him forward. “Edward is in Town to rescue James, at the moment. He has chosen His Majesty’s Navy on the grounds of its success in war. He claims the army is nothing more than philandering and promenading. How he shall be persuaded to return home remains a great mystery.”
In the parlor, Anne glanced about shyly. Her welcome from the Duchess not wholly unexpected, yet heartening with the specter of Rosings haunting her steps.
She sat with Henry’s mother and spoke of Pemberley and the Darcy family. Having lived a solitary life at Rosings, without the benefit of teas, balls, and the gossip of Town, Anne worried her quiet manner might offend her future family but came to find the Duchess was of a like mind.
“I must say my Henry has chosen well. I never dreamed he might find such a jewel but his letters have assured me you are all he has ever wished in a woman.”
Anne clasped her hands in her lap and attempted to hide her surprise. A young man who confided such in his mother? It was unheard of and foreign to her, that relationship with a parent, and yet she longed for a family where a mother and son spoke confidentially of matters of the heart.
The Duchess led Anne on a tour of the home and grounds until she was well and truly tired. She thought of her walks with Elizabeth, her heart giving a twist of longing for Pemberley, grateful for the stamina they now provided.
Returning to the house, they parted and Anne rested in her room for a time before dressing for dinner. She was pleased to find the Duchess in the parlor. They sat happily discussing Henry’s boyhood. Before long, the men joined them and the party entered the dining room for the evening meal. Anne delighted in the conversation around her and forgot completely of the trials to come.
When at last they all retired, after cards and music in the salon, Anne de Bourgh rested her head easily upon her pillow. Her mind was free of worry within the walls of her future family’s estate.
Elizabeth Darcy sat before the fireplace in her room, reading a passage from her favorite book before she retired for the night. Her eyes would not remain upon the page and soon she was pacing, her thoughts with Anne and Henry.
They had been gone but a short time and yet it seemed much longer since the tearful farewells. She hoped to receive a letter from Rosings as soon as Anne was able to write.
Tomorrow she would leave her family at Pemberley and go to Brambling for a bit of peace. Kitty and Lydia, along with Mrs. Bennet, had been most disappointed when the young gentlemen callers had not made offers as expected.
Elizabeth halted her step at a knock upon her door and smiled brightly when her husband entered the room. He had come later than was his custom this evening and she wondered at his appearance. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed unhappily.
“I have put it off as long as I might, but I must return to London for a time, my love,” he said and stepped forward to catch her as she hurried into his arms.
The pout on her face made him smile and he kissed the tip of her nose. “You shall miss me then?” he asked as she pressed against him and he noticed the roundness of her middle between them.
Elizabeth lifted her gaze and gently smoothed the hair at his temple. “I should travel to London with you if my family did not linger at Pemberley. As it is, I would not leave your mother alone to manage them.”
Mr. Darcy kissed her lips tenderly, a growl issuing from his throat. His hands caressed her back and Elizabeth moaned at the exquisite sensation before breaking their kiss to take his hands.
She led him to a seat by the window and looked out over the wide expanse of lawn cast in shadows by the bright moon above.
Mr. Darcy noted the lines of worry upon his beloved’s face and pulled her close, his hands finding the spot on her back that begged for his attention. Elizabeth relaxed against him, her eyes closing in rapture at his touch.
“Did I know your hands could soothe me so, I might have refused to leave Pemberley all those months ago when my father demanded my return to Longbourn.”
Mr. Darcy held her then, his arms strong and warm, her center of the universe.
“We cannot change the past, my love, but we might take better care in the future. Do not worry for Anne. Henry will see that she returns to us and mother shall keep you busy preparing for their wedding.”
Elizabeth wondered at his thorough understanding of her heart’s wishes. He had known she must speak with her father, he was ever at hand when she wished to walk the grounds alone with him, and now he knew the words to reassure her of Anne’s happiness.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, turning to gaze into his eyes, “shall we retire? I would have your arms about me through the night.”
He stood and helped her from her seat, holding her firmly against his body. “Would be my pleasure, indeed, Mrs. Darcy.”
He kissed her again and led her to the bed, his eyes full of love and longing for his Elizabeth. Leaving for London in the morning would be difficult, but the sweet hours before dawn beckoned with the promise of marital bliss.