“My name is Anne de Bourgh,” she said. “I believe you met my mother, Lady Catherine, in town last week.”
“Ah,” said Elizabeth faintly. “Yes. I did. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Anne de Bourgh laughed softly. The sound was thin and reedy, like an instrument that still functioned but had not been used in a long time.
“You need not fear me, Miss Bennet,” said Anne. “And have no fear of visiting Pemberley today, for my mother departed for Kent last evening. You are safe for the time being.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said politely. She was utterly at a loss, to be addressed in such a manner by a person who had more cause to hate her than most. After all, was not Anne de Bourgh Darcy’s true intended wife?
“There’s a bench just past this hill with a lovely view of the lake,” said Miss de Bourgh. “Would you care to have a look with me?”
There were three servants attending the children, and Elizabeth was not presently needed. She nodded, and they commenced.
“We are not acquainted, Miss Bennet, but I can guess at your thoughts,” said Miss de Bourgh.
“By all means,” said Elizabeth, too surprised by the afternoon’s turn of events to mind the familiarity.
“You think I approach you to warn you off my cousin, Darcy,” said Miss de Bourgh. She walked quite slowly.
“Is that not the case?” Elizabeth hardly knew her own thoughts at that moment, but Miss de Bourgh had guessed at them closely enough.
“On the contrary,” said Miss de Bourgh. “I sought you out today to let you know that I have no designs on Fitzwilliam, nor any hopes in that direction whatsoever. The favor of the match belongs entirely to my mother and Fitzwilliam’s mother, Lady Anne. They thought it would be charming and romantic. After Lady Anne died, my mother seized on the idea. I rather think it made her feel connected to her late sister somehow.” They reached the bench and sat.
“It brought my mother comfort in her grief, and so I let her carry on with her wish. Only in the past few months has she begun to seriously impress that design on us. That is, on myself and Darcy.”
“You speak as though you dislike the idea,” said Elizabeth.
“Forgive me if I am familiar, but I hear the disbelief in your voice. You think because he is an earl, and of great fortune besides, that any woman in the country would wish to land him.” Miss de Bourgh turned her gaze to the lake, and Elizabeth followed suit. It truly was a fine prospect.
“I have no desire to be a countess, Miss Bennet. I have grown up with wealth, and I have seen what happiness it can bring. I have also known loss; wealth is no barrier to death, nor to the grief it brings. I have a substantial dowry of my own, should I choose to marry. At present, I do not choose it. Certainly, I do not choose to marry Darcy.” She looked at Elizabeth. “I would not have you consider me a rival.”
The strange events of the last several weeks descended upon Elizabeth all at once. She laughed.
She laughed loud and long, drawing the gaze of the children as they wandered back toward the house. The servants turned, trying to discover the source of mirth. Finding nothing to amuse besides the vista of their workplace, they followed the children back up to the house.
Miss de Bourgh waited until her laughter subsided.
“I beg your pardon,” said Elizabeth, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“You don’t need my pardon,” said Miss de Bourgh. “You have been through quite enough already.”
“It is no excuse,” said Elizabeth with a sigh. “But that is kind of you to say. Thank you.”
“If it’s any consolation, I envy you a bit.”
“Oh?”
“I do not wish you ill – by no means. But I envy you the adventure. I have been all but a prisoner at Rosings since I was old enough to speak.”
“Rosings – that is your home, yes?”
“It is my mother’s home. It is very grand, but living under her protection requires conforming to her rules, and at the risk of sounding petulant… It chafes.”
“I’m that much more surprised you’re not eager to marry,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps your status affords you more options.”
“It’s not likely,” said Miss de Bourgh with a trace of humor, and not a little regret.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” asked Elizabeth. She still could not make out Miss de Bourgh’s purpose in seeking her out.
“You are generous to offer,” she replied. “But no. My situation is all but fixed, and I am nearly at peace with it. Sometimes, less so. I shall be well again tomorrow, I think.”
They sat in silence some minutes, enjoying the last of the sunshine.
“Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I want to ask you a question. It is rather personal, I’m afraid.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly, without the touch of her earlier madness.
“Perhaps you ought to call me Elizabeth,” she said. “After this conversation, we are practically confidants.”
“I shall do so, and you will call me Anne,” replied the older woman. “My question is this: Do you love him?”
Elizabeth gaped. The expression was impolite, but words simply would not surface.
“Fitzwilliam is not an easy man,” said his cousin. “He can be ill tempered and his pride runs deep. Perhaps he is justified in having that pride but it must be mentioned, for you cannot have the man without that feeling. So I ask you a question I have never asked another woman in my life – Do you love him?”
“Anne,” Elizabeth spoke slowly. “The understanding between myself and your cousin is not— it is not of the traditional sort.”
“You mean, because your arrangement was a sham,” said Anne simply.
Elizabeth forced her mouth closed when it gaped this time.
“Georgiana confided in me yesterday,” said Anne. “I would not dream of trespassing on Fitzwilliam’s privacy, nor yours, despite the nature of my question. I ask because if you love him, you need to give him an opportunity to be close to you.”
“I hardly know him,” said Elizabeth, speaking the first words that came to mind for fear of discovering the truth of her own heart before a near-perfect stranger.
“I think you know him well enough,” said Anne. “Be at ease, for I will not press you for an answer. I will tell you, however, that if you love him, if you think it is within you to truly love him; if even the possibility has occurred to you, you ought to reconsider leaving him.”
Elizabeth said nothing for a long moment.
“It’s too late,” she said, when finally her voice returned. “I’ve already broken with him. No doubt he has already read my letter. I believe your mother delivered it herself.”
“She did,” said Anne. “And I know too well what lengths to which the great Lady Catherine will go to see her will obeyed. If there is even the slightest chance she influenced your writing that letter, I beg you for my cousin’s sake, reconsider your choice.”
“Why should you argue on his behalf? Why go to such trouble?” asked Elizabeth. “Heaven knows, there’s no shortage of available females who’d like to bear the title of his countess, and many of them are far more suited to the position than I.”
“Ah, but there you have the soul of it,” said Anne, smiling at last. “He went to the trouble to secure your accord. Such subterfuge is wholly unlike my cousin; frankly, I’m surprised the idea occurred to him at all. But that he chose you to take part in it, that he trusted you in an act which is so wholly outside his character… I deduce from these things that you must mean a great deal to him.”
“I cannot see what you must see, for I’ve only known him a few weeks,” said Elizabeth helplessly. The conversation mortified her, even if she dreaded it’s ending. It was the first time she’d been able to talk freely about her arrangement with Darcy, and with someone who knew him well.
“Then believe me when I say, I love my cousin,” said Anne. “He is a generous man, and a good man. Duplicity is not in his nature, and while I am surprised by his actions, I will not condemn him for them. Involving you was a choice carefully made; whimsy is not in his makeup. Therefore let me urge you, once and for all, if you hold him in any tender regard whatsoever… reconsider.”
There was a noise behind them, then a deep voice spoke.
“Reconsider what?” asked Darcy. The women whirled around to witness him coming down the hill just behind their seat at the bench.
“I asked her to come visit me at Rosings when their trip to Scotland is concluded,” said Anne, lying with aplomb. “Elizabeth has declined, but I have hopes she’ll reconsider.”
“Ah,” said Darcy. He did not give his opinion, but his color rose markedly. “Miss Bennet, your aunt was asking for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, blushing herself. “That is, my lord. I’ll be along presently.” Elizabeth thought perhaps she saw the hint of a smile on his face as he turned back to the house.
“What were you saying about lying being out of character?” she said to Anne.
“That was in reference to my stalwart cousin,” replied Anne, standing. “I’ve no room for such compunction. Come, let’s return you to your aunt. Remember what I have said, Elizabeth.”
To that charge, Elizabeth had no doubt she’d be faithful.
After supper they were all bound up in their respective coaches. Darcy’s accompaniment saw the party shift, for a third carriage was now required for the comfort of all. The children shared seats with their siblings and nurses, while Darcy, Elizabeth, and the Gardiners were afforded the most spacious seats in the head carriage.
Travel came easily the first few days. Mr. Gardiner and the earl both expressed a wish to ride alongside while the weather remained fine, for at this time of year there was no guarantee it would hold. Elizabeth found much relief in this. She and Mrs. Gardiner were able to pass the time as they would always have done, in pleasant conversation and periodic, but equally pleasant silence.
It also gave her space to consider Anne’s words. Did she hold Darcy with that much regard? All this time Elizabeth had seen the color of her feelings to be amiable and respectful, no hint of romance among them. But divesting herself of the show of courtship had brought her so much confusion and pain, though she’d thought at the time it was just sympathy for the man who’d been so kind to her, such a friend while she’d been ill at Netherfield.
Yet Anne’s questions resonated in Elizabeth’s mind, and the peaceful time she passed alone in the carriage with Mrs. Gardiner left her unable to focus on anything else.
It was on one such day, after luncheon when they still had a fair distance before their stop for the night when Mrs. Gardiner broke their amiable quiet and said, “You have never met my sister, have you Elizabeth?”
“I have not, but I look forward to it with pleasure,” she answered. “You’ve told me so much about her, I feel I may know her already.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Gardiner. Her tone had a peculiar quality Elizabeth could not quite place. “She and her husband have been married nearly so long as Mr. Gardiner and me. Of course, they had children much earlier on.”
“Have they many children?” asked Elizabeth, more from politesse than real curiosity. Mrs. Gardiner would come to her point soon enough, Elizabeth knew.
“Only three,” said her aunt. “Their two daughters are about the same ages as your youngest sisters. The eldest is your age, I believe. His name is Henry.”
And then Elizabeth understood.
Mrs. Gardiner had brought her to Newcastle to matchmake.