Mr. Collins’s head nodded to the side as he slumped on his seat across from Miss Anne de Bourgh. The parson had traveled nonstop to Kent and had not the time to remove the dust from the road before Miss de Bourgh ordered him back inside the carriage after reading the letter he brought from her cousin, Mr. Darcy.
Lady Catherine’s daughter was angry her mother had left her at Rosings to begin with and news of her collapse had sent the young mistress into her own screaming fit up and down the stairs of her stately home in Kent.
Mr. Collins snored loud and long waking himself and drawing censure from his travel companion. “I shall be certain to tell mother of your inability to remain awake, Mr. Collins. She will not be pleased. I would think you have done quite enough already to lose your living at Hunsford but my mother is known for her generosity where the lower circles are concerned.”
Miserable at this reminder, the parson did not know whether to attempt to soothe the young lady or remain quiet and hope she would forget his weakness once she was reunited with her mother at Netherfield. Silence won out as his eyes drifted closed once more.
It seemed only moments had passed when the carriage stopped and the driver called out that they had arrived to Netherfield. Mr. Collins jolted up from his seat shocked that so many miles had passed without his knowledge. He did feel quite refreshed but the shame of sleeping in the presence of the young mistress colored his cheeks as she pinned him with a withering gaze. “Thank heavens we have made the journey unmolested. I could not have relied on you were we set upon by highwaymen.”
Anne de Bourgh moved swiftly to quit the conveyance as Mr. Darcy appeared at the door of Netherfield to greet her. Mr. Collins hoped Lady Catherine’s health had improved in the days since he had left for Kent for he wanted more than anything to speak with her and find a way to make amends for the actions of his family on that terrible night.
Mr. Darcy welcomed his cousin, his heart pierced by her tears and the worry over her mother written plainly in her distressed countenance.
“Fitzwilliam, what has happened? How could you allow Mother to fall ill when you know she is all I have in this world? You must care for us both so far from home. What shall become of us here?”
Her eyes wandered to the home before them. Mr. Darcy could see the reflection of her mother’s character mar the beauty of his young cousin and winced from the distaste in her expression. How his Aunt Catherine could imagine him married to the younger, frailer version of herself mystified the man. Once he had thought to bring Anne to Pemberley to give Georgiana company and have the girls raised together but his aunt would not hear of it.
More was the pity he had not rescued Anne when he might have for she was set in her ways now and would never make a suitable wife for any man of character. He thought if anything she would only draw the interest of a man like Wickham, a fortune hunter incapable of constancy or dedication.
The thought sent a chill down his spine and before his cousin might continue her critical review of the grounds of Netherfield, he ushered her inside after nodding to Mr. Collins to join them.
He was not eager to entertain the parson but his aunt had made progress since the man left for Kent and had asked for him. She seemed happy to know he had gone to fetch her daughter though Mr. Darcy was wary of having the man sit with his aunt so soon after her collapse. He did not wish to risk a setback in her recovery as he wished to have his family returned to their home in Kent as soon as they were able to travel.
Anne would not stop and have tea with him in the parlor and Mr. Collins encouraged the young Miss in her aim to seek her mother's rooms immediately. Mr. Darcy found he did not relish the weeks ahead where three people with the ability to drastically reduce his patience were the only company he might have.
Instead of fighting their wishes, he merely followed the unlikely pair upstairs so that he might at least keep Collins from barging in with Miss Anne. When they reached his aunt's door, Mr. Darcy stepped before the travelers from Kent and held up a hand. “Anne shall enter now, Mr. Collins, as my aunt’s greatest wish is to have her company. Later, you may sit with her for a brief time as she has asked after you in the days you have been gone.”
The parson’s face lit up as a child given a treat and Mr. Darcy swallowed the noise that would betray his disgust with the man. He offered his arm to his cousin instead and escorted her inside her mother's rooms.
Mr. Collins nearly danced a happy jig in the hallway at the thought of Lady Catherine desiring his company. He gave a skip as he turned away from her door and the dust from his well-worn suit rose in a cloud around him. He coughed and with haste hurried down the hall to the room Mr. Darcy had given him and called for a footman. He would have a nice, hot bath and then a meal before seeing Lady Catherine. There was much to discuss after he made his profuse apologies and he wished to be presentable.
In Lady Catherine's rooms, the physician stood as Mr. Darcy entered with Miss Anne. Lady Catherine made a heartrending moan when she spied her daughter and Miss Anne fairly ran to her side and fell upon the bed. “Oh Mother!” she exclaimed as tears burst forth.
Mr. Darcy wondered at the highly emotional reunion thinking perhaps it was too soon for such histrionics. “Doctor,” he said as he approached the man, “surely this display is more than my aunt might stand?”
The physician watched the mother and daughter and soothed his client’s concern. Mr. Darcy was quite protective of the women in his family, the true mark of a gentleman. “Sir, I would agree but your aunt is a strong lady. Having her daughter’s love and care is a tonic, I assure you, that is much greater than any I might give. My estimation is that your aunt may be recovered enough to return home in a month’s time barring any further upset, that is.”
Mr. Darcy was glad to hear it for he knew his aunt to be stronger than she appeared. He must see that she was not to have a relapse if he hoped to have her removed from Netherfield before the Bingleys returned. Charles would not refuse lodging to any of Mr. Darcy’s family but it was not his intention to saddle the newlyweds with such a disagreeable trio of guests as his aunt, cousin, and the parson.
Following the physician from the room, he glanced to the ladies now whispering as they watched him go. He knew their plotting had begun and that later over dinner, Miss Anne would begin her campaign to force his hand where marriage was concerned. While he was sorry for the condition of her mother, he would not humor her delusions.
His mind turned to Elizabeth Bennet and he thought now that Anne had come he might begin to pay calls to Longbourn again and speak with her father about his feelings for the young lady.
At Longbourn, Elizabeth sat in the garden with her mood as bleak as the gray clouds that blotted out the weak December sun. The wind whipped her skirts as it gusted fitfully, whipping leaves down the lane as a shepherd drives his flock. The only bright spot in her day had been a letter from Jane and even that brought her spirits lower as she missed the comfort of her dearest sister’s confidence.
The atmosphere at Longbourn had been unusually subdued with her mother and father at odds over Mary and her predicament. Even Lydia had taken pity on their sister in her torment. Pulling Jane’s letter from her skirt pocket once more, Elizabeth pressed the paper against her lap to keep the wind from stealing it away. She was truly happy for her sister and found comfort in the joyous descriptions of her wedding trip.
Looking up and towards the field that separated her home from Netherfield, Elizabeth thought of a wedding trip with Mr. Darcy. Her heart melted as she dreamed of being held tightly in his arms as his lips explored her face. She'd blushed furiously when Mr. Bingley kissed Jane at their wedding and then held her face in his hands before kissing each of her eyelids and moving back to her lips. He had not cared that all of Hertfordshire watched even as the display caused quite the stir. Elizabeth hoped Mr. Darcy might follow his friend’s lead but first there was the matter of a proposal.
At this thought, her heart twisted. Mr. Darcy had been ready to propose before his aunt arrived and had said to her father he wished to seek her hand. Those words had sent his aunt into a fit of rage that scattered her family from Netherfield. She had not seen or heard from Mr. Darcy since that terrible evening and his absence, though understandable, left her hollow and bereft.
Elizabeth folded Jane's letter and stood from the stone bench. The cold from her garden seat leached away any heat her body might produce and she shivered before casting a final glance toward Netherfield. Mr. Darcy would come and ask her to marry him. She prayed the words would be made true as she brushed away a leaf that took refuge in the folds of her skirts.