"Won't you take tea with us, Aunt Catherine?"
Richard stood to greet his aunt, before encouraging her to take a seat near the fire, where she might be warm, and easily able to converse with both he and Mary.
"You look dreadfully pale, Richard. I do hope you are not sickening for something." Lady Catherine's words were not offered without sympathy, but Mary detected a trace of self-interest in the older woman's hesitation to draw closer to greet her nephew.
"Nothing but my old war wounds acting up," Richard said, with a droll smile.
"And he is very much better now, after taking some much-needed rest," Mary put in, stepping forward to greet the older lady.
"Very well," Lady Catherine said, surveying the pair with caution. "And where is your brother? I had hoped I might see dear Philip once more."
Richard flinched almost imperceptibly at the mention of his brother, and Mary laid a gentle hand on his arm, which seemed instantly to settle his mood and temper his reaction. His voice was light, his smile easy when he explained Philip and Louisa's absence.
"They are visiting friends at present, Aunt," he said. "Although I am sure they will be disappointed to miss you."
"Anne is with them, I expect?"
Neither Mary nor Richard answered straight away, exchanging a look of mild panic that Lady Catherine mercifully misunderstood.
"I know she has several acquaintances in town, so I could hardly expect her to sit at home waiting out the festive season with her cousins." She lifted her watery eyes from Richard to Mary and back again. "No offence intended towards you, of course. How do you like London, Mary?"
"Very well." Mary slid her chair a little closer to Lady Catherine, seeking desperately for a subject that might interest the older lady and serve a worthy distraction from the mention of Anne de Bourgh. She was ignorant at present of Anne's true location, and Mary strove to keep her so. It was not in her nature to deceive, but it was also not in her nature to seek out conflict: and having witnessed Lady Catherine de Bourgh's piques of temper when anything she did not personally approve of took place, she thought it wise to delay informing her of her daughter's activities. In any case, it may yet be undone… It was a fleeting hope, but Mary clung to it, her eyes scanning the room for some glimmer of inspiration. Her gaze lit on the piano, and she seized upon music as a most opportune topic of conversation, remembering how fondly Lady Catherine had spoken of her delight in music during Mary's stay at Rosings.
"We have very much been enjoying the music, have not we, Richard?"
"Very much," he agreed. "That is, I have enjoyed some very jolly tunes. I am sure your own enjoyment has been rather more deep and affecting than my own. Perhaps, Mary, dear, you might play a little for Aunt Catherine? She is so recently arrived I have no doubt she would appreciate the chance of a rest, and you play so well the new pieces we have been introduced to. You would like to hear them, I am sure, Aunt?"
Although Richard's voice lifted at the end, suggesting a question, he was already ushering Mary to her feet, leaving little opportunity for Lady Catherine to do anything other than acquiesce to the suggestion and agree that yes, she would dearly love to hear Mary play again.
"Rosings is so quiet, now that you have all departed…" she mused, as Mary settled herself at the piano. She bit her lip, wishing she possessed the courage of her sister, to inform the lady that, had she been more welcoming to the young people while they were at Kent, they might not have been in such a hurry to depart. But I am not Elizabeth, Mary reasoned and placed her hands on the keys, playing the first few bars a little hesitantly, but gaining in confidence as the newly-learned piece flew from her fingertips. It was a lively jig of a piece, and she was pleased to see Lady Catherine's eyes dancing along to the tune, her lips stilled at last as she appreciated the music.
"Bravo!" Richard applauded with vigour as she reached the conclusion of the piece, and before either lady could speak, demanded another, mentioning a particular performance he had enjoyed and imploring Mary to play the piece for his aunt's hearing, for she would do it far greater justice than he in recalling it. Mary's lips quirked, recalling that Richard's previously professed opinion of this particular piece of music had in fact been rather less than complimentary upon his first hearing it. Sensing that he sought only to occupy his aunt with thoughts of anything that was not Anne, or, for that matter, Mr Darcy or Elizabeth, she happily played on, lengthening the piece as much as she dared, and only winding it to its end when she saw Lady Catherine stifle a yawn.
"Dear me, where can my daughter have got to?" she asked, casting a cross glance towards the clock on the mantel.
Richard and Mary exchanged a glance, and Mary's heart sank as she saw her husband's features settle into unhappy acceptance of the task at hand. It would fall to him, then, to inform Lady Catherine of the news they had hoped to keep quiet.
"You need not tarry, so, Richard, or seek to spare my feelings."
Their exchange of glances had not gone unnoticed by Lady Catherine, but it was not until she spoke that Mary recognised the resignation and hint of regret in the older lady's voice.
"She is spending time with Fitzwilliam, I expect, and that woman." Her eyes flew, almost unconsciously, to Mary, and she had the grace to look a little chastened to speak so cruelly of Mary's sister before her face. "They are happy, then?"
"They are." Mary lifted her chin, determined she would not be cowed by the lady before her, and striving to project some measure of the confidence that Elizabeth seemed to so easily inhabit. "Very much so."
There was a snort, and Lady Catherine turned to Richard with an imperious toss of her head.
"I am sure you make a fine set, roving all over town."
"Roving? Aunt, I understand your disappointment -"
"No, Richard, I do not believe you do understand my disappointment." Lady Catherine let out an expansive sigh. "Still, I am sure I have learnt to live with disappointment, in my long years. I will learn to live with this too. If Anne is quick to forgive Fitzwilliam's betrayal, I must seek to do the same." She sniffed. "You will send a note, Richard, and invite Mr and Mrs Darcy to accompany you and Mary to my house for dinner in a few days. I will not seek to disturb Anne's plans before then: but perhaps you will inform her of my arrival in town, and suggest that she may prefer to enjoy the comforts of her own home, rather than imposing any longer upon her cousins."
With that, she turned her attention purely to the wider London society Richard and Mary had been keeping and questioned them relentlessly on gossip concerning their shared connections, which Richard answered as fully as he dared, although not enough to satisfy Lady Catherine's inquisitive nature. Mary's eyes caught her husbands' and they shared a look of pure relief. They had somehow evaded Lady Catherine discovering the truth, for now. Mary's heart pounded. Yet a few short days were all the respite she had offered them. How would they explain not only Anne's absence but also Mr and Mrs Darcy's, so soon?
