Elizabeth Darcy paced the entry of Pemberley, a few days after her visit to Brambling, eager for another letter from Anne. The butler entered the front door and glanced at his mistress. He hoped she would find a letter from Miss de Bourgh within the ones he held out for her perusal.
Lady Anne called from the parlor door and Elizabeth turned, a ready smile on her lips. “I am anxious for a letter from our Anne.”
She turned back to the butler and flipped swiftly through the post. There was no letter from her best friend. Sighing in frustration, Elizabeth began with the first letter and carefully searched the pile once more.
“My dear, we must not worry yet. They cannot have arrived more than a few days ago. If my sister is ill, Anne shall have a time of it finding a moment to write.” Lady Anne took Elizabeth’s arm and led her to the parlor.
“Tis only impatience on my part, I fear. With my family preparing to leave, and William gone to London, I find myself worrying a bit much of late.”
Lady Anne sat with Elizabeth on the sofa and pursed her lips in thought. She was dressed plainly but her regal bearing shone through, regardless.
“I believe we require a trip, dear Lizzy. After your family has gone, perhaps we should go to London for a time. Seeing your husband will surely lift your spirits and we will be closer to Rosings should we wish to visit Anne. We do not know what may come in that quarter.”
Elizabeth furrowed a brow in thought. “But we shall miss her letters if we go.”
Lady Anne waved a hand and smoothed her skirts. “Not to worry dear, we shall write to Anne today so she may know our plans.”
Elizabeth’s eyes brightened with the happiness that fell upon her heart at the idea of seeing her dear husband again. And the thought of being closer to Rosings made the notion most agreeable. “Oh, I must share my happiness with Jane! Perhaps she and Charles might think of visiting London with us. I know they have spoken of finding their own townhouse near Darcy House. And I will see my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner!”
Elizabeth anxiously covered her mouth with one hand. She glanced about hoping her words had not carried into the hallway beyond.
She spoke again to Lady Anne, her voice only a whisper. “I must not tell Jane until our family has gone. Should mother hear of our plans, she will insist we all travel to London together.”
Lady Anne was happy to have lifted Elizabeth’s spirits. She did not mention her own unease since Anne had left them. The memories of Catty’s betrayal had weighed on her and she thought now they ought to have accompanied Anne to Rosings.
“We shall keep the trip a secret. Let us write Anne first and then we shall take a turn in the gardens. I find every visit to my dear Georgiana’s flowers allows me to recall the happy times of her young years. And when we return from Town, we shall prepare for Anne’s wedding.”
Elizabeth kissed her mother-in-law on the cheek and rose to follow her to the writing desk. She pulled a chair alongside Lady Anne and they crafted a happy letter to the missing lady of their loving trio.
Anne de Bourgh awoke from her nap with a dull ache in her head. She rose from her bed and crossed the room to gaze out upon the familiar scene of the gardens below. The last time she had been at Rosings, Elizabeth had escaped a marriage to the parson William Collins.
She smiled to think of Elizabeth’s happy ending and hoped her own would soon come to pass. She thought of the change in her mother. The woman did not appear well and she was changed in her demeanor and speech. Was something terribly wrong with her mother that was invisible to the eye?
When Anne entered her mother’s rooms, the sound of retching and a faint offensive odor caused her to quicken her pace. The maid sat on the edge of her mother’s bed, tending her brow with a cool cloth. The pain etched on Lady Catherine’s face frightened Anne and she quickly took the maid’s place at her mother’s side. She turned to the maid and gave instruction. “Please see that her chamber pot is cleaned and have weak tea sent up right away, and cool water for her brow.”
Anne placed a hand upon her mother’s forehead and was pleased to find there was no fever present. Lady Catherine grasped her hand and held it tightly. “Thank heavens you came, my dear. When did you arrive?”
Anne looked at her mother with confusion. Had the woman truly forgotten her arrival hours earlier? Perhaps she was only weary and confused by her illness. Deciding to believe it was only the fog of illness obscuring her memory, Anne smoothed her mother’s hair. “Mother, I saw you earlier, you recall. I only rested for a short time in my rooms.”
Lady Catherine moaned in pain and Anne resolved to stay by her side. She would send word to Henry of her intentions and hope Miss Bingley would behave with a modicum of restraint during dinner. If her mother was resting peacefully afterwards, she might go to the parlor and speak with Miss Bingley about returning to London.
The maid returned and sat the tea tray upon a table near Anne. She left for a moment and returned with a clean chamber pot and a pitcher of cool water. “Miss, is there more I might do to help your mother?”
Anne shook her head. “I will stay with her through dinner. You may deliver a message to the Viscount for me. Tell him I shall try to come down to the parlor later but I send my regrets that I may not join him for dinner.”
The maid left and Anne moved about the room smoothing covers, opening curtains, and speaking with her mother as though all was fine. She pulled up a chair beside the bed and began to lay a fresh cloth upon her mother’s forehead. Lady Catherine was either a wonderful actress or the woman was truly ill. Anne did not wish for her mother to be ill, but if she was pretending, it would be so much worse than a true malady.
Anne was lost in her thoughts, wondering exactly how the situation at Rosings had come to pass. What possible use could her mother have for Miss Bingley? In all her years spent at Rosings, she had never known her mother to invite anyone to visit and certainly none as false as Caroline Bingley.
A small knock came upon the door and Anne knew it was likely the maid from earlier. A few moments later, a small coughing sound startled her and Anne turned to find Charlotte Collins standing in the doorway. “Why Mrs. Collins, what has brought you here so late in the evening? Is the parson quite well?”
Charlotte shook her head and smiled. “I have only come to sit with your mother. I have an herbal that will ease the pain and help her to rest. Would you like to give it with her tea?”
Anne smiled at Mrs. Collins and took the packet of herbs and let them steep in the tea. “Elizabeth told me of your friendship and I was pleased to return because of your presence. As you may know, I left Rosings in a manner that angered my mother. I am pleased to be able to tend her now.”
Charlotte glanced at Miss de Bourgh but would not mention the words she had overheard that day outside the breakfast parlor. She would simply try to break the plans of Lady Catherine and Miss Bingley. “Miss Anne, you must go down to dinner.”
Anne hesitated for a moment, but Charlotte led her gently from the room. “Should she require your presence; I will send for you. Go, enjoy your first night home with your beloved. Begging your pardon, but leaving him alone with Miss Bingley is a punishment no man should suffer.”
Anne smiled brightly at the parson’s wife and took her hand in a gesture of thanks. She returned to her room to glance in the looking glass before going downstairs to find her beloved Henry.
Caroline Bingley leaned towards the man in the dining room, her lashes lowered in a most becoming manner as she spoke. “I can’t imagine Lady Catherine would keep her daughter in her sickroom, but you and I shall make the best of it as we dine alone.”
Henry merely nodded at her words, control over his distaste for the woman firmly in place. Above all, he was a man of honor and would not allow the spinster to misconstrue his intentions.
Henry smiled broadly at Caroline, causing the woman to reach her hand across the table believing his smile was for her. The smile was for Anne, for he spied her entering the room from the corner of his eye. Henry rose and held out her chair before kissing her hand.
Henry was greatly relieved at her presence and lingered for a moment at her side before returning to his seat. Anne kept her eyes on Henry, willing herself not to satisfy her longing to glance at Caroline Bingley.
“Why Miss Anne, I did not think to see you this evening with your mother quite ill,” Caroline said with false concern.
Anne straightened her napkin in her lap and gave a strained smile to her company. “Mother is in good hands Miss Bingley, you’ve no concern there. Perhaps you would prefer to return to London at your earliest convenience? As you can see, we are not able to entertain at the moment.”
Caroline Bingley made a face that showed she did not prefer to leave for London. Lady Catherine had not yet paid her and she would not return home empty-handed. Besides, the handsome viscount made for excellent company when compared to her sister, Louisa, and her husband Mr. Hurst. “I would not impose upon you Miss Anne, I assure you. I have kept your friend from being terribly lonely, haven’t I sir?”
Anne bit back an angry retort and instead turned to Henry, for she did not wish to give Miss Bingley an upper hand. “Perhaps after dinner we might take a stroll through the gardens.”
“A fine idea my dear,” Henry said as the footmen carried in the first course. “I would be pleased to wander the gardens with you.”
Caroline, being the conniver she was, tried to weasel an invitation for herself to the after-dinner stroll.
Anne smiled innocently, her eyes wide. “Why Miss Bingley, I promised Mrs. Collins you would sit with mother so she might walk with us and make Henry’s acquaintance. Since you’d rather not leave Rosings, I suspect you must feel some sympathy for mother and would be pleased to tend her for a time.”
Caroline smiled sweetly though the words she held back would have made Miss de Bourgh gasp in horror. She must not give away Lady Catherine’s plans lest she have nothing to show for this trip to Rosings, a home she was certain she hoped never to see again.