Such A Creature
Lady Catherine thinks about her daughter.
It was late January and Lady Catherine sat alone in her drawing room. Her dinner guests, Mr Collins and his new wife, had departed and Anne had retired for the night. With no one left to speak to, Lady Catherine was in a rare state of silent contemplation.
Rising from her chair, she walked to the pianoforte and opened the instrument. It was true, she had never truly learned to play, but one could not grow up with Lady Anne for a sister and not learn a very little. With melancholy care, she picked out an old lullaby, calling to mind the exact sound of Lady Anne's sweet voice as she sang the nonsensical words to their dolls. Her sister was long gone and Lady Catherine missed her acutely.
Thoughts of Lady Anne inevitably brought to mind thoughts of her namesake, Catherine's daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh. Catherine found herself scowling as she considered her difficult daughter. In her early years, Anne had been a lively child, rather impertinent when all was considered but certainly quite charming. But somewhere along the way, that happy child had become a very sullen young woman. Catherine could see very little of herself in her daughter aside from a single trait: a double helping of obstinacy. All the Fitzwilliams were obstinate to some degree and Catherine knew herself to be one of the most so, but Anne took it further than anyone else.
Twenty years ago, Anne's first governess had arrived. She had, with the full approval of Catherine, attempted to enforce a reliable routine. Anne, however, did not like her days being regimented and simply refused to apply herself. Headaches and other such ailments were soon found to be the most efficacious in avoiding her lessons and with the support of her indulgent father, Anne managed to learn nothing. For more than a decade, the battle had continued. Sir Lewis overrode every one of Catherine's attempts to educate her daughter as befit her status and even now, more than seven years after his death, Catherine blamed her husband for Anne's condition.
Early claims of poor health had soon formed poor habits, and despite several medical opinions saying there was nothing wrong that better food and sensible exercise wouldn't fix, Anne persisted in her churlish ways. It drove Catherine, who prided herself on being an active, useful sort of person, into near fits to see the way her daughter would refuse to even get out of her phaeton to greet Mrs Collins.
The girl was fit for nothing. Her disposition was cross and her looks insignificant. Catherine had attempted – repeatedly – to introduce Anne to their country society and failed. Anne did not wish to go out; she would always be too ill to go. When guests came, she would sit at the table or in the parlour at Rosings like a sullen lump of resentment.
If Darcy would not do his duty, Catherine doubted she could find an eligible prospect, of suitable family and connections, properly educated and experienced at estate management who would be willing, even with her fortune, to marry such a creature as Anne de Bourg had made of herself.
A/N: This is a stand-alone fragment of a prequel to a story that doesn't yet exist outside my head. Lady Cat wanted to have her say so she interrupted my work on Endurance's End and demanded I write about her. It could be considered a canon piece, although I plan to use it to setup an AU. I hope you've enjoyed a glimpse into another interpretation of the de Bourgs.