“No.”
Her expression relaxed ever so slightly.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, waits outside.”
She flushed again and looked away.
“And here, Anne, you worried about how news of our nuptials would be received by your relations. Why, we have nearly enough guests to host a wedding breakfast. Do invite the good colonel in, Mr. Darcy. It looks about to rain again.”
Mr. Crawford’s lightness sounded forced; perhaps the bridegroom was not so confident after all. Regardless, Darcy had little patience for levity at present, particularly from that quarter. He was weary and sore from days of travel, and frustrated by his failure to prevent the marriage.
He crossed to the window and signaled Colonel Fitzwilliam to join them, not because Mr. Crawford had suggested it, or because of the cursed rain that had delayed them just enough to thwart their mission, but for motives of his own.
Anne pulled her dressing gown so tightly about her that she strained the fabric. “Darcy, I would rather our cousin not see me in this state.”
“He need not.” Darcy felt awkward enough witnessing her dishabille, and he was a married man. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a bachelor. “He can keep your new husband company while you and I converse in private.”
“Keep me company, or be my keeper? Come, Mr. Darcy. Surely you do not think I would abandon my bride after going to such lengths to secure her?”
Darcy leveled the groom with an impassive stare. “I do not know what to think of you, Mr. Crawford, for I do not know what kind of gentleman prevails upon a lady to abandon her family, her principles, her caution, and her duty to enter into an irrevocable union in a manner that can only engender sorrow and ill will amongst all who know her, and gossip amongst those who do not.”
Actually, Darcy knew exactly what kind of man would do so. His brother-in-law Mr. Wickham was such a man. Several years ago, the fortune hunter had nearly enticed Darcy’s sister into eloping, but Georgiana’s conscience had compelled her to confess their plan to Darcy before it could be enacted. Wickham later succeeded in seducing Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia, a girl of lesser fortune and, regrettably, fewer scruples.
Yes, Darcy indeed had experience with men who allowed selfishness to govern their matrimonial tactics. Mr. Crawford, however, was by Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s accounts wealthy enough to have courted Anne honorably, which made his motives more difficult to comprehend. So, too, were Anne’s. Georgiana and Lydia had each been but fifteen when Wickham preyed upon them, and in Georgiana’s instance her would-be seducer was a man she had known all her life, as much a part of the landscape of Pemberley as its woods. Anne de Bourgh was nearly twice that age, more mature, more cognizant of the consequences of elopement. And far less familiar with her suitor.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s tread signaled his approach. Darcy greeted him at the door, closing it behind him to shield Anne from view. He spoke in a low tone. “It is as we feared. We are too late.”
Fitzwilliam’s countenance, already strained from their arduous journey, deflated. He likewise muted his voice. “Is Anne well?”
“I believe her welfare might be better determined without Mr. Crawford in attendance.”
“I will escort him downstairs to settle his account with the innkeeper. If Anne’s health can support further travel, shall we depart as soon as the postilions can provide horses?”
Though they were all in need of rest, remaining in Gretna Green was insupportable. “Make the arrangements, but let us journey no farther than Carlisle today.” Carlisle was not ten miles distant; there they could overnight at a proper inn. “Assuming Mr. Crawford’s post-chaise accommodates four, we require horses for only one carriage. He is hardly in a position to object to conveying us.”
“On the contrary, he needs to court our goodwill. Surely they both realize Lady Catherine will not receive them kindly — if she receives them at all.”
“You know our aunt. She will be waiting with her solicitor to attempt to settle some sort of marriage articles with Mr. Crawford the moment we produce the couple at Riveton.”
“Shall I send word to her that we have discovered them?”
“I will write her from Carlisle. Riding in a closed carriage with Mr. Crawford might expose additional information we ought to include.”
“Riding in a closed carriage with Mr. Crawford might reveal more about him than we care to know. This escapade has hardly disposed me well toward him.”
Mr. Crawford called from within. “Mr. Darcy, if you and the colonel have finished talking about us, we have finished dressing.”
“He is unrepentant?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
“Utterly.”
“That will change.”
Mr. Crawford departed with the colonel, whose military bearing clearly communicated no tolerance for brash behavior. The pistols he carried at his side brooked no foolishness, either.
Left to themselves, Anne regarded Darcy like a convicted felon awaiting sentencing, or a child anticipating a thorough scolding. Were Lady Catherine here, she would deliver both with vehemence, and he could see Anne bracing herself for a tirade rehearsed over several hundred miles. Rather than face him, she crossed to the window and drew aside its cheap, tattered curtain. A light rain indeed began to fall.
Despite his impatience, he spoke gently. “Did Mr. Crawford coerce you?”
Several raindrops struck the glass. “I expect that is the only explanation that could possibly make sense to you.”
“One of few. You are not a silly young girl. I cannot believe you were so overcome by infatuation that you ran away with a stranger on impulse.”
“It was no impulse, and he is not a stranger. I have known Mr. Crawford nearly a year.”
“How?”
“We met last autumn in Bath.”
“Why, then, was your mother unacquainted with him when we discovered your note?”
“We were introduced after she departed Bath for Pemberley.”
Anne had wintered in Bath while Lady Catherine assisted the Darcys with fraudulent legal charges that had taken five months to resolve. He recalled that she had written her mother several times during that period requesting permission to extend her stay in the city, citing its steady benefit to her health. Lady Catherine had consented, congratulating herself on selecting Bath as the most salubrious of England’s spa towns, and believing her daughter safe under Mrs. Jenkinson’s supervision.
“Did Mrs. Jenkinson approve the acquaintance?”
“Yes, though she did not realize its extent. Mr. Crawford was in and out of town, and when we did encounter each other he seldom paid me particular attention in her presence. He never called at our lodgings, and when we saw him in public he would include Mrs. Jenkinson equally in our exchange of pleasantries. He and I conversed more freely on occasions when other matters, such as retrieving my shawl or procuring a glass of water, occupied her. At assemblies, we sometimes danced whilst she played at cards. She could not have foreseen this turn of events — pray, do not blame her for it.”
“So Mr. Crawford courted you surreptitiously. And you were a willing party to the deception?”
“For most of our time in Bath, I did not think of his attention as courtship, though I confess that as our acquaintance improved I occasionally indulged in the daydream that one might develop. I was simply gratified that a gentleman as charming as Mr. Crawford desired my conversation.”
“Did you never question why?”
She turned. Something like spirit lit her expression. “Is there a reason he should not? Because you never showed interest, am I unworthy of any gentleman’s notice?”
The question so startled Darcy that he could not respond.
“There I was, in Bath, for the first time since your wedding. Can you comprehend the humiliation of returning to a scene where my mother had, since my coming-out, discouraged suitors with the explanation that I was reserved for my cousin by an ‘understanding’? A cousin who had just married someone of significantly lesser status in the eyes of Society? Not only did I bear the stigma of having been rejected by my own kin as a desirable wife, but I was essentially entering the marriage market for the first time at eight-and-twenty: a decade older than most of the girls around me. I was painfully aware that my inheritance constituted my primary, if not sole, attraction to any suitor.
“Believe it or not, there were other suitors, once my mother left Bath. Not many, but a handful of gentlemen, all of whom wooed me only for my dowry and the promise of Rosings to come. The impoverished peers who had squandered their own wealth did not even attempt to disguise their motives. Other gentlemen were more bold and less honest. In fact, Mr. Crawford earned my gratitude, and that of Mrs. Jenkinson, for revealing to us the histories of more than one fortune hunter.”
“While Mr. Crawford was protecting you from the avaricious addresses of other gentlemen, did you or Mrs. Jenkinson enquire into his own reputation?”
“Upon his initial arrival in town, word circulated that he had recently ended an affair with a married lady who had pursued him most shamefully. Early in our acquaintance, he acknowledged the truth of the reports, as well as sincere regret at ever having entered into the liaison. That was the only ill I ever heard spoken of him. Details about his estate and income were easily verified, which put to rest any misgivings I might have harbored about his motives for cultivating my regard. His situation is quite secure without need of my inheritance.