Rosings Park came into view early the next day, its lawns as perfectly manicured. Had she thought the home itself might grieve in her absence? Or perhaps, more to the point, her mother might suffer without her? Anne regulated her emotions and pretended she was already a married lady come to visit her lonely, ailing mother.
Henry helped her from the carriage and she turned at the high, unfamiliar voice of Caroline Bingley. There had been no mention of entertaining guests in her mother’s missive. Anne’s fears at this visit gathered in her heart and she bit back the surge of grief in her throat. Lady Anne had tried to warn her of her mother’s ways. She turned and breathed deeply as she eyed Caroline Bingley.
The woman stood by the front door, dressed as though meeting royalty and Anne brushed the dust of the road from her own gown. Although their trip had not been made in haste, she felt as a dusty flower upon the roadside compared to the tall immaculate lily awaiting them, her arms out for an embrace.
She had met Caroline Bingley once or twice before when the woman had insinuated herself into a holiday invitation to Rosings. Being the sister of William’s good friend Charles Bingley, she had been made to feel welcome even without an explicit invitation.
Anne recalled the dismissive behavior the woman had used with her then. For what could the young, feeble daughter of Catherine de Bourgh do for a woman as cunning as Caroline Bingley? The last they’d met, Lady Catherine had spoken repeatedly of a marriage between Fitzwilliam Darcy and her daughter to the obvious pain of Miss Bingley.
To see her standing on the stone steps of Rosings with a fake smile and her arms out in welcome was confirmation things were not as her mother had painted them.
Henry took Anne’s arm and gallantly strode up the steps with her, stopping to allow Caroline to embrace his beloved. He knew of the sister of Charles Bingley, enough to be wary of the grasping spinster. When she turned to him, he merely inclined his head in greeting but kept Anne on his arm close to his side.
Caroline dropped her arms and held Anne’s hands instead, her eyes flicking away to stare boldly at Henry. “How lovely you have come home, Miss de Bourgh, and with such a handsome man by your side.”
Mr. Darcy had been shrewd to suggest Henry remain at Rosings as long as he might, the forces were marshaling against his Anne in short order.
“Miss Bingley, is it?” Anne asked, her face betraying nothing. It was plain now why the woman would be a guest at Rosings. She would set her cap for any eligible man in a room, whether engaged or not, especially now that Elizabeth and William had married.
Caroline dropped Anne’s hands and placed her own on Henry’s free arm and walked inside with the newly arrived couple. “Why yes, Miss de Bourgh, we’ve met only a few times. I could never forget the cousin of Mr. Darcy. I had thought the two of you were to be married for that was the gossip about Town at one time.”
Anne smiled wickedly, fully prepared to deliver her barb. “My mother has always wished for our union but alas, my good friend Elizabeth stole his heart.”
Caroline’s face fell and she glanced away rather than pursue the conversation that would make her truly ill. The idea of Elizabeth Bennet Darcy angered her far more than the idea of Anne de Bourgh Darcy ever might have.
As the trio entered the parlor, a maid nodded to Anne. “Your mother wished to see you the moment you arrived.”
Anne turned to Henry, her eyes betraying her unease and he patted her hand. He bent his head and whispered where only she might hear. “Would you like for me to wait in the hallway outside her room?”
Anne smiled up at him, heartened by his support and shook her head. “No, my dear. Please wait here with our guest. I won’t be long.”
Henry walked her to the door of the parlor and let her go reluctantly. He turned and glared at Caroline Bingley, hoping to draw a line between them before the woman began her awkward seductions, for he knew she would if only from the boredom of having been alone with Lady Catherine for a time.
Caroline smiled at the handsome viscount, her mind a swirl of lewd thoughts. Anne de Bourgh had improved in pallor and in presence but the handsome man she’d brought home could not be satisfied by so delicate a woman, surely.
Caroline walked slowly to his side and cast her eyes approvingly over his solid frame. “How long shall you stay, sir? The home is lovely, and the grounds, yet the conversation and activity leave much to be desired. Perhaps we might take advantage of our current situation?”
She waved a hand to signal the emptiness of the parlor and smiled at him with what she hoped was an alluring look. Henry bristled uncomfortably in her company but returned her smile with one that kept his feelings unknown.
Her legendary forward manner proved true and not only a rumor tossed about casually in parlor conversations he’d overheard. “Miss Bingley, I would not consider leaving a lady without polite company, but our situation is unlikely to change. Lady Catherine is ill, is she not?”
Caroline placed a hand on his arm and sighed. “I have seen very little of my hostess, whether ill or well I could not say for certain. I did think an invitation to visit Rosings peculiar, yet when Lady Catherine’s letter arrived I did not wish to refuse her.”
Henry glanced at her hand upon his arm and Lady Catherine’s plan fell into place before his eyes. She’d invited a notorious flirt to Rosings the same time he and Anne were due to arrive.
Obviously the woman was desperate to come between the couple. That news was no surprise. But how was he to be tempted by a woman so unlike his Anne? Lady Catherine must believe her daughter incapable of catching and keeping a man.
He moved to stand closer to the parlor door. He would need to shield Anne from her mother’s plans and guard himself against the amorous Miss Bingley.
Upstairs, Anne de Bourgh stood outside her mother’s door and breathed deeply to calm herself before entering the room.
Lady Catherine was propped up in bed, her face pale and her eyes closed. Anne approached slowly, not wishing to awaken her mother if the woman was sleeping.
The smoke that hung in a haze above the bed burned her eyes and the darkness broken only by the fireplace and a candle by the bed cast the room in shadow. She longed to open a window and allow a bit of fresh air to cleanse the room. She rang for the maid and took her mother’s hand as she sat upon the bed.
Lady Catherine’s eyes fluttered open and a small smile greeted Anne de Bourgh. “My dear child, you have come home as you promised.”
The words hit Anne like a slap to the face. She dared not trust herself to speak for fear she might reveal her shock. Her mother had never been one to use endearments, not in all the years Anne had been alive.
A maid entered and stood by the door, awaiting the direction of either of her mistresses. Anne turned, her throat burning from the smoke in the room. “Please open a window and bring tea for my mother.”
The maid glanced to Lady Catherine before following Anne’s instruction. The woman lifted her hand and waved the maid toward the windows across the room. “You must do as my daughter commands. She is here to take care of me.”
Turning back to her mother, Anne smiled weakly. “Mother, certainly you knew I would come. I know you are not pleased with me for many reasons, yet I am your child.”
Lady Catherine squeezed her daughter’s hand and shook her head slowly. “The past is the past, we may not change it by arguing. I am not well as you see. Let us begin anew Anne. For I would rather forget our differences than lose you again.”
Anne could not believe her mother’s words nor her conciliatory manner. “I have come with Henry Amestrey, mother. As much as I would hope your words are sincere, I cannot pretend I shall give up Henry’s love.”
Lady Catherine bit her tongue and resisted the urge to squeeze her daughter’s hand tighter. Her plan with Caroline Bingley would work, it must. Anne had been too long under the corrupting influence of those horrible Bennets. “My dear, I hope only for your happiness. If this young man of yours loves you truly there is naught I might do to sway him.”
Anne turned as the maid arrived with the small tea tray and took it hastily, happy for a task to keep her hands busy. Her mother’s grasp had been unsettling. “Then you shall be pleased to see us wed since Henry does love me.”
She poured the tea and smiled though her heart hammered in her ears. There had never been a time she had spoken so boldly to the woman. Could her weakened condition have changed the iron woman she’d always been?
Lady Catherine forced a smile and accepted her tea. She believed her agreement with Caroline Bingley would bring the love affair her daughter had so foolishly entered without her blessing to a swift end.
“Will you be able to come down for dinner mother?”
Lady Catherine shook her head slowly. “I’d rather not have our guests see me in my present condition. The three of you should have a wonderful meal and then we may see one another again. You’ve only just arrived and we have plenty of time.”
Anne rose, certain they did not have as much time as her mother hoped. She wanted to be far from Rosings as soon as she might. Staying without the support of Henry, and in the company of Miss Bingley, did not seem possible.
She left her mother’s rooms and meant to go to her own for rest, her head had begun to ache in that smoky room. She would see her mother’s room aired thoroughly on the morrow when she brought her down for breakfast.
Anne resolved to have Miss Bingley on a carriage bound for London as soon as she was able. The woman surely had the good manners to cut short a visit when the lady of the home was ill.
She hurried downstairs to find Henry in the entry, dressed to go riding. She glanced about for any sign of Miss Bingley. “I am sorry to have left you in that woman’s company, dear Henry.”
He turned and smiled at his Anne. “She is as treacherous as Darcy warned but I managed to escape her clutches. How is Lady Catherine?”
Anne’s brow furrowed at his question. “She is quite different in her manner and speech. There was not a cross word spoken even when I told her of your love for me.”
Henry sighed and took his beloved’s hands gently. “I suppose we shall find her true intent as the days pass. Would you care to ride with me?”
Anne smiled shyly, her eyes bright with love for Henry. “I am no great lover of horses but I would enjoy a nap. I’m afraid our return to Rosings has given me a headache.”
Henry placed a chaste kiss upon Anne’s forehead and walked her up the stairs to her room. “I shall see you at dinner, then.”
Anne watched him go and placed a hand upon her door. He was every fairy tale and dream come true. The person who kept her hoping for a lovely future far from Rosings. She thought of Elizabeth and Lady Anne. They had been right to urge her against marrying at Rosings.
Anne de Bourgh lay upon her bed, her eyes heavy and her mind filled with plans that would carry her through this time at Rosings and back to Pemberley. She promised herself to write Elizabeth when she awoke.
Her last thoughts before drifting off were of Henry and his words to her in the carriage. He loved her, he truly did, and her heart found peace in that knowledge. Rosings was now but an empty shell of her childhood memories.