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At the threshold to the house, Darcy hesitated, and were it not for Bingley’s presence beside him, he would have abandoned the plan altogether. As it was, his friend remained firm, where Darcy wavered, so that it was almost natural to open his mouth and utter the words he and Bingley had rehearsed earlier that day.
“Bingley and I have secured a private room to dine at the inn where we are staying: we should very much like it if you and Anne were to join us there in a day or two.” He paused. “Thursday, perhaps.”
This invitation shocked Wickham at least as much as it delighted his wife, for Anne, who had risen at the sound of the door opening, clapped her hands at the suggestion.
“Oh, how kind of you, William!” she said. “And Elizabeth and Miss Bingley will be there, too, I suppose?”
Darcy’s eyes widened momentarily.
“I did not know you were aware of their arrival,” he choked out.
“True enough, we thought it a fine surprise!” Bingley said, laughing to cover the moment of awkwardness that had descended on the house. “What a pity you knew it already. Still, we shall make a merry party, all the same.”
Merry was not the word Darcy would have chosen to apply to such a grouping, still, it seemed to encourage Anne, and for that Darcy let it slide. He thanked providence again for sending him Bingley at this particular hour of need. In the privacy of his own mind, he might have wished for Richard, for the two had dealt with Wickham before, and knew his modes well. It was only today he began to count his blessings that it was calm, sensible Bingley by his side. Richard would have sallied into the fray, demanding vengeance and probably resorting to a duel or a fight and damaging both gentlemen’s standings as well as their hides. Darcy cared little for Wickham’s physical wellbeing, privately considering that a blow or two might knock some sense into the man, but to see her cousins fight with her new husband would hurt Anne, and for that reason, Darcy was glad that Bingley tempered him into acquaintance with the new Mr and Mrs Wickham. This dinner had been his idea, almost entirely, the arrangements all his. You cannot ignore them forever, Darcy, he had said. What’s done is done, and now we must feel out a way forward for all concerned. I do not imagine anybody plans on hiding out here for the foreseeable future.
“Dinner?” Wickham asked, returning to the matter at hand.
“You need to eat, do not you?” Darcy asked, glancing over the threshold and into the small house. He knew well enough from previous visits how ill-equipped the home was for a lady such as his cousin, and he doubted their ability to fund eating well, with Wickham so often at cards.
“It is very kind of you, William,” Anne said again, with a cautious nod to her husband. “We shall look forward to joining you on Thursday. Now, won’t you and Mr Bingley join us? I can make a fresh pot of tea, and -”
“Thank you, Mrs Wickham,” Bingley offered. “That is a lovely offer, but I am afraid we have plans. Darcy has promised to show me some more of this charming town, and we must make haste before we lose the light. Good day!”
He saluted both Mr and Mrs Wickham as if they were old friends which, in some sense, they were. If Darcy had known Wickham his whole life, Bingley had known him for half, although the two had never been close.
They made their farewells and retraced their steps back towards the town. Darcy was silent, unable to formulate words enough to say. Bingley, to his credit, took it upon himself to narrate all they saw, and make conversation in a jolly, carefree manner until they had put quite some distance between themselves and the Wickham house.
“Look, Darcy!” Bingley said at length. “Is that not our womenfolk?”
His friend seemed both surprised and amused, and his request was such that he lifted his head to look, and noticed that it was indeed both Elizabeth and Caroline, walking together some yards ahead.
“I suppose they were tired of resting!” Bingley said, cheerfully. “Come, let us catch up to them and see if they do not welcome our company. Mrs Darcy! Caro!”
He had hailed the ladies before Darcy could say a word, but he was not disappointed to see the warmth of the smile Lizzy turned towards them. That was quickly replaced by the merest hint of anxiety, and he was not unhappy to reach her side once more, where he might inquire, in low tones, what she and Miss Bingley had found to occupy themselves with that afternoon.
“We went to call on Anne,” Lizzy said, with a nervous smile. “Forgive me, only -”
“I insisted we must go at once, and reassure ourselves of her wellbeing,” Caroline said, with a histrionic sigh. “I cannot imagine a worse place, though! Their home is so small and cramped and I am sure it is not at all adequate for a lady to dwell in. Poor Miss de Bourgh said very little, and seemed pleased to see us, but do not you think she seemed a little -” she dropped her voice. “Low in spirits?”
“I think, rather, that she was a little overwhelmed by all that has happened, and by our sudden arrival, Caroline. Recall, she did not know us to be in Scotland at all, let alone on her very doorstep demanding attention.”
“Demand!” Caroline’s mouth fell open in surprise, and she sniffed, altogether put out by Elizabeth’s effective silencing.
“You have spoken to Anne, then?” Darcy asked as the four young people began once more to walk, slowly finding their way back towards the inn they called home. “Do you find her altered?”
“A little.” Lizzy was cautious with her words. “I meant what I said: I think it the sudden upheaval, and change in circumstances that has wrought the most change. She was delicate even in Kent.”
Darcy grumbled something in agreement. His concerns were not easily laid at ease by these words. If Anne had been delicate in Kent, how much worse would this scandal hit her?
“But she seemed very pleased to see us - to see both of us! She said that you had been to call on them already, and was altogether relieved that we have not cast her aside.” She drew her lips into a line. “She said nothing of her mother, and I wager she fears Lady Catherine’s reaction to the news. We must tell her, must not we?”
“Richard will see to it,” Darcy said, his lips quirking in discomfort. “A task I do not envy him in the least.”
***
THE FITZWILLIAMS WERE passing a quiet evening together a day or two later when Lady Catherine called, unannounced and unexpected, at the house.
“Aunt Catherine!” Philip stood, greeting the aunt he scarcely saw and yet still afforded all due respect and attention she deserved. “Please, do join us. Will you stay to dine?”
“I will not.” With an imperious nod, Lady Catherine turned to Richard, her eyes alighting momentarily on Mary, who vacated her seat at the piano and moved instinctively to her husband’s side.
“How lovely to see you again, Lady Catherine,” Mary ventured, when neither gentlemen seemed poised to break the silence. “Are you -” her voice faltered, the last word emerging as scarcely a squeak. “Well?”
“Well? My daughter has absconded to Scotland with a scoundrel. How can you imagine my faring in any way well?”
Mary shrank back as if she had been struck, and Richard angled himself between his wife and aunt as if to protect Mary from Lady Catherine’s onslaught.
“I came only to tell you that I shall no longer trouble you by my presence in London. You may tell my daughter, should she ever care to return, that she need not come to Kent. If she is determined to proceed in this ridiculous effort, she shall do so without my approval or acknowledgement.” She drew in a ragged, dramatic breath. “She is lost to me forever!”
These histrionics appeared to settle the matter for Richard, and he nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if reaching a decision.
“I am sorry for your suffering, Aunt,” he said, stiffly. “But if you wish Anne to know of your feelings, you must tell her yourself, by letter if not in person. When she and her new husband return to England -” he had placed heavy emphasis on the first word, affording such a development more certainty than he had in private discussion. “I shall do my best to help them, and welcome them into my home.”
“Your home?” Lady Catherine arched an eyebrow, but Richard would not be drawn nor distracted from his words.
“I have never hidden my opinion of George Wickham, and it has not changed now. But Anne is my cousin, and I shall not heap more suffering upon her on account of one mistake.”
The room had fallen so silent that one might have heard a pin drop, and Mary feared for a moment that Richard had gone too far. Just as she tried to conjure some conversation that might undo her husband’s brash resolve, Lady Catherine straightened, horrified, but unsurprised.
“Your position has long influenced your attitudes, Richard,” she said, peering down her large nose at him, though she had to tilt her head backwards in order to do so, Richard being quite a bit taller than her. “A mere second son may marry as he chooses. I might expect you to view my daughter’s rash actions with approval, just as you did Fitzwilliam’s ridiculous decision to marry your wife’s sister. I wash my hands of you, each and every one!”
With a tragic air, she spun on her heel and stormed from the room, her feet echoing loudly from the hallway.
“Well,” Philip observed, peering over the edge of his newspaper at his brother. “Shall we go down to dinner?”
Richard turned in shock to Mary, and she saw her own surprise reflected in his features.
“Our aunt has disowned her daughter, and practically disowned us, and that is all you have to say?” Richard spluttered.
“What else is there?” Philip shrugged. “Nothing I say will induce Lady Catherine to change her mind, nor resolve the issue of Anne’s marriage. I see neither of them on a daily basis, and so the impact of their trials upon my life will be fleeting.” His eyes narrowed in concern. “You care far too much for others, Richard. It has always been to your detriment. Better to let the world turn much as it desires, and focus only on one’s own concerns.”
Richard’s mouth fell open as if he was unsure what to say in response to such a speech from his brother.
“Come, Richard,” Mary whispered. “Let’s go down to dinner with your brother and Louisa, and speak no more of this at present.”
To her surprise, Richard laughed.
“You know, brother, oftentimes I feel I do not understand you at all.”
Philip’s eyebrows lifted, but he did not seem unduly upset by the revelation.
“We are a decade apart in age and have scarcely spent more than a few months in the same place at once, so it can hardly come as a surprise to you that we are as strangers at times.” He cleared his throat. “But, that said, I have appreciated having you here, and your new wife too. You must stay as long as you wish it, for I find it rather entertaining to have my younger brother so close by.” His eyes twinkled in a manner not unlike Richard’s, when he observed something particularly humorous.
Mary met her husband’s gaze with a surprised smile and saw a sense of peace settle over his features that had not been present yet for their entire time in London. When she took his arm and they walked to the dining room, he took advantage of their proximity to whisper a word or two in her ear.
“How is it, Mary, that one branch of my family tree is collapsing in upon itself, and the other springs with new life?”
She had no answer but walked alongside him happier than she had been in a long time. If only Anne might find this happiness with her husband, she thought, her mind wistfully returning to her friend. I hope Elizabeth and Mr Darcy might be able to offer the assistance we may not. Privately, silently, she vowed to be even more welcoming than Richard had suggested. If Lady Catherine intended to cut her daughter out entirely, then Anne would be in need of friends and family around her. Glancing between the brothers as they reached the table, she felt a sense of anticipation that had nothing to do with the delicious scent of food that reached her nose. If Richard and his estranged brother might find a new communion, what was to say Anne might not yet be reunited with her mother? Stranger things have happened...