Whenever Anne came to town, Darcy always met her carriage at the inn at Bromley because as soon as Georgiana was with Anne, he would hardly be able to get a word in edgewise. So he greatly valued the uninterrupted time they shared traveling the London road. While waiting for the carriage from Rosings Park to arrive, Darcy had been going over their last meeting in his mind. Following Elizabeth Bennet’s rejection of his proposal and her accusations regarding Wickham, Anne had cautioned him that it would be imprudent to write a letter to Elizabeth while he was still smarting from the events that had taken place at the parsonage. But his character had been called into question, and he was determined to rebut her accusations. In the time it took for him to walk to the manor house, he was already regretting the tone of the letter, especially that part where he had written of “the total want of propriety so frequently betrayed by your mother, your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father.” In his haste to defend himself with regards to Bingley, he had made Elizabeth’s case for his showing “a selfish disdain for the feelings of others.” Anne was wiser than he.
Darcy saw through the window that Anne’s carriage, with the de Bourgh coat of arms emblazoned on its doors, had arrived. Assisted by Tetley, one of the many servants at Rosings, who would do anything for their mistress, and the ever-faithful Mrs. Jenkinson, Anne stepped out of the carriage and onto the dusty courtyard of the inn. The diminutive figure searched among the faces for her cousin, and a smile signaled when she had found him.
Because so much time passed between visits, Darcy was always taken aback by how frail his cousin was. That had not always been the case. She had been in robust health until she was nearly fourteen when she had become so ill that everyone believed that she would die. The realization by Lord and Lady de Bourgh that they had come very close to losing their only child resulted in the hiring of Anne’s nurse and constant companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, a sensible woman who understood Anne’s needs better than anyone. But the young Anne, who had raced Richard and Will through the gardens of Pemberley, was no more as the illness had taken its toll on her lungs. After her recovery, she sought to reassure her loved ones that the restrictions on her activities really did not matter because it was no longer proper for a “woman of her age” to be found chasing after boys.
After sharing a board of bread and cheese washed down with a pint of ale, the travelers set out for London. After exchanging news of their families, and with Anne cautioning her cousin that she would not tolerate repeated questions regarding her health, the two fell into an easy conversation while her nurse slept.
“Poor Mrs. Jenkinson,” Anne said with a slight laugh. “She can never stay awake when we travel. The rocking of the carriage causes her to fall asleep almost immediately, just like a babe in a cradle.”
“She is a wonderful woman. Each of you complements the other.”
Anne could hardly imagine her life without her companion. Because of her loving attention, life was bearable at Rosings. Although she knew her mother loved her, Lady Catherine’s overbearing personality was so oppressive that Anne used her illness as an excuse not to engage. As a result, she rarely spoke, and because of her mother’s penchant for dominating every conversation, she was left alone with her thoughts while her mother pontificated. It was only in the quiet hours after her mother had retired that Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson, and the head housekeeper would talk in her sitting room.
“Will, you have been a poor correspondent since you left Kent.” When Darcy furrowed his brow, Anne continued. “Oh, you are generous enough in sharing news about Georgiana, but as to matters that affect you, you leave me nothing but crumbs.”
“If you are referring to the situation regarding Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I shall own to it immediately. You were right, and I was wrong. I should never have written that letter.”
“And your feelings for the lady?”
“Unchanged. But there is nothing new there. I assume she is at Longbourn with her family.”
“I know that she is at Longbourn because I correspond with her.”
Darcy gave Anne a wary look. “And pray tell, what is discussed in your letters?”
“Oh, do not look so concerned. I speak of you only in the most general of terms. Since I lead such a sheltered existence and my circle of friends is limited, I write about Mrs. Collins and the friendship that has grown up between us. And then there is Mr. Collins, whose fawning and cooing over my mother provides comic relief. On Elizabeth’s side, she always inquires after Richard. She is concerned that Britain will be drawn into the wars on the Iberian Peninsula, and that he will be in the fight.”
“Do you think Elizabeth has feelings for Richard?”
“She likes him very much. But both are wise enough not to encourage the other, as his poverty is only exceeded by hers. And in my opinion, there was no spark on Elizabeth’s part. But why are we speaking of Richard? You say your feelings are unchanged, so what have you done in these four months to advance your cause?”
“I do have a plan, which is very sketchy at the moment, involving Charles Bingley. As I wrote to you, until recently, Bingley has kept his distance from me. He resented my interference in his affairs regarding Miss Bennet, thus my invitation for him to join us at Pemberley. Once there, I will admit to an error in judgment and will encourage Bingley to approach Miss Bennet for permission to renew his attentions.”
“Oh, I see what you are planning. Following this discussion, Mr. Bingley will proceed to Hertfordshire, where he will win anew the lady’s affections, and by virtue of your friendship with Mr. Bingley, you will find yourself in Elizabeth’s company once again. I think it is a splendid plan with one exception. It separates you from the object of your affection for several more weeks.”
“Yes, but I have obligations. I have recently become a venturer with George Bingley, Charles’s eldest brother. Along with other investors, I am involved in a scheme that will transform the Derwent Valley into a model for industrial development in England. A flannel manufactory is being built as we speak, and George insists on input from all the venturers. While I am in Derbyshire, he wants me to seek out other possible investors. I cannot complain as the man seems to spin gold out of straw, but I am a gentleman, not a man of business, and all of this is new to me.”
“But your plans to arrive at Pemberley in three weeks’ time remain unchanged?”
“Yes, you were very specific as to that date, although you have yet to tell me why we must be in Derbyshire exactly at that time.”
“Do you think you are the only one who has obligations?”
“No, of course not, but schedules had to be rearranged and…” Darcy went quiet. He could see he was at risk of hurting Anne’s feelings if he pressed the issue. But, good God, what obligations could she possibly have? By her own admission, she had a limited circle of friends, and her health placed restrictions on her activities. But he decided there was nothing to be gained by asking more questions. “I was more than happy to accommodate your request, and we will be there exactly at the time you have chosen.”
“Perfect.”