Fitz's carriage left for Derbyshire in the early morning, right after a quick breakfast.
Miss Bennet's carriage left for London an hour later.
Richard sighed, as he had to listen to Auntie Catherine's next monologue on his cousins tying the knot in order to unite the family's fortune.
(The mental image of the intended match's wedding night would convince even Bonaparte to consider his options in a monastic life. Judging by the face Anne was making, she was considering it right now.)
"And what about you, nephew? When are you going to finally leave that ridiculous business in Spain and fulfil your duty to your family?"
"When they stop calling it desertion, ma'am. The cucumber sandwiches are great, by the way." He leaned over for another. "Also, the one who is supposed to add to the numbers of Fitzwilliams is my brother, not me. You might have heard of him. You were invited to his wedding."
Ever since then Edward fathered three sons and a girl, the oldest turning six this winter. Richard was rather sure the growing ranks of his family did not need his church sanctioned effort to swell even more.
"I do not appreciate the tone you use, young man!"
He laughed. "Auntie, forgive me, but I am hardly in a position to actually consider any marital prospects right now. I will not abandon my duties. The army trained me tad too well to lounge around the ton."
"The army that gives you a pittance for pay! Who would have thought! A Fitzwilliam waiting for his wage like a common yeoman!"
"You are right," he sighed. "I shall write a nice letter to Mr. Bonaparte to lift the blockade. He should consider the impending possibility of my betrothal to be the direst concern of the French people. May I add your recommendations?"
Anne watched their altercation with a pained expression of someone who wants desperately to add to the conversation, but who knows they would be bludgeoned with more arguments.
. . .
Before he left himself, he paid his cousin a visit at the gazebo in the garden.
"You look better today, Anne."
"Depends on who asks," she said. "A gentleman or a cousin?"
"Half and half."
"Then I am half ill, half well."
Anne was two years older than him, but her chronic illnesses stunted her body to the degree she looked frail and so terribly young; next to her, Georgiana would evoke the image of Boudicca.
"I wish Mama stopped with the nonsense with Fitz," she admitted. "I am not blind, nor stupid. There is no reason for us to ever entertain it."
"Please, never entertain the suggestion."
"My father was titled, for heaven's sake! Financially, we are equal. But given my age and my health, there would be no heir for either of us." She paused. "I am not what he looks for – that lady Collinses brought; she was my exact opposite. Nor do I find the idea of his embrace remotely palatable. So why is she still demanding we marry?"
"Cousin," Richard said gently, "I truly am astonished with your talkativeness today. Do not take me wrong. But why are you talking of this with me and not the man?"
She gave him an unimpressed look.
"Because if there is anyone who can talk my mother to silence, it is you."