Darcy was having an indolent afternoon. With his feet propped on the armrest of the couch and both hands occupied holding a cup of tea and a thick book titled Paradise Lost, the gentleman was a picture of carefree idleness. He had the library all to himself and perused the shelves thoroughly, promising himself to indulge himself with the Netherfield collection. But in the end, he sighed loudly and stood up. They had been at Netherfield for three days now and there had been no significant progress regarding their stay. Was the purpose of his stay only to affirm his aunt's opinion that Netherfield was indeed a nice estate for his and Anne's honeymoon?
He was not looking forward to it. The place did not interest him as much as Pemberley. Only of course, he was just being biased. He was a country gentleman too and he was not belittling this quaint country town since he preferred this place more so than London. Darcy massaged his temple. He was not used to such quietness. He was used to hearing Georgiana's playing with the pianoforte. For goodness's sake, even he, although begrudgingly, confessed that he missed Miss Bingley's incessant chattering.
Was he too spend the rest of his life with someone as quiet and reticent as he? He chastised himself for the negativity and prayed that he and Anne would have beautiful, healthy, and rambunctious children filling the halls of his great house with joyous laughter. Would that be too much to ask? He found himself thinking wryly if Anne would be strong enough to bear him children with no substantial age gaps.
Darcy exited the library, closing the door as he did, and passed Anne's chamber. The gentle sounds of a harp playing escaped the room and he forced himself to stop and peek into the room unnoticed. Anne was sat on her canopy bed with her silver harp between her legs. Her yellow hair was loose and it tumbled down her back prettily. Her eyes were closed as she strummed the instrument with her fingers. He noticed her lip was trembling and she was deathly pale.
"You play beautifully, Anne."
Her eyes snapped open and saw Darcy leaning on the frame of her door and smiling faintly. She beamed. Anne rarely saw him smile.
"An impressed Fitzwilliam. I shall take your compliment seriously."
Darcy shook his head and made no motion to leave his spot. Anne tilted her head. "Come now, dear. What has you so somber?"
"Is it a mere trifle. You need not be concerned."
His gaze went the vase beside her bed. It was the flowers he gave her two days ago. They were already grey and wilted. His brow arched. "You need to throw away those, Anne."
"What?" She asked. "Oh!" She followed his gaze. "That. Well, pay no mind to it. You rarely give me flowers and I consider that a token to keep for a long time."
Darcy chuckled softly in amusement. "Dispose of it, Anne. I shall get you more every morning if that's the case."
She blushed and nodded. "That would be nice." She agreed. "Any news about cousin Richard?"
A deep frown now marred Darcy's handsome face. He shook his head. "No. It's been more than 12 months since we last received his missives. With cousin Edward gone, Richard is Matlock's heir. . ." His voice trailed off.
Anne's eyes widened. "And if he does not come back, you shall take his place?"
Darcy nodded.
"I am grieved, indeed. On the bright side, my dear, the Darcys shall then be titled members of the peerage. You, a baron, and I, an heiress of a Marquee."
For a moment, Darcy was astounded by Anne's concern for titles instead of their cousin Richard's welfare. God, she is not unlike the ladies who had been after my fortune. Had he been fooled by Aunt Catherine into accepting Anne as his wife? Yes, her health was frail and she was delicate but she was, at least, pretty and had some . . . substance. Though not as accomplished as the ladies of the ton since her constitution did not allow her body much movement. She was a walking glass for goodness's sake.
Darcy sighed mentally.
"Of course." Waa his only reply.
"Oh, Darcy, have you seen the mad woman again?" Anne said, changing the subject. Darcy wished she would just play the harp again.
"She's not mad, Anne." Darcy said, trying hard not to snap. "She's a lady toyed by the fates."
She quirked a brow. "I have heard . . . stories of various accounts of her. She certainly goes around." The insinuation was loud and clear though subtly put. Darcy grimaced. It was no language fit for a lady like Anne.
"Anne, you know better than listening to rumors."
"William, my sources are impeccable." She sniffed.
He refrained from scratching his nose. "What is the point of all of this? Let the poor woman be."
"A forewarning for you, my dear. The country is a bit . . . different than the city. Particularly the women. They are somewhat less restrained."
Though annoyed, he humoured her. "What did these people tell you of this woman?"
She was delighted to know that she had the upper information than Darcy. Her eyes brightened and she bounced from her perch with a glint of her eyes that he could not describe. "You must know what they call her first, Will, for it certainly is the most interesting part of this." With his nod, she continued. "She's called the Lieutenant's Woman. Jilted and forgotten. And everyday, an hour before the sunset, she stands on top of the mount and remains there until night falls. Would you find it romantic, Will, if I tell you she's waiting for him to return?"
"I find it thus."
Anne's lips turned up. Darcy masked his face into one of ignorance and interest. "She should have been more cautious, shouldn't she, my love?"
"I think her imprudence may be blamed for her lack of affection. She was orphaned and subjugated to hardly menial chores that she has no right to as a gentleman's daughter. Her craving for attention, may it be good or bad, led her to this path."
Anne's brows disappeared into her hairline. Darcy flushed upon realizing he had talked too much and looked away.
"Fitzwilliam!" She exclaimed. "How do you know this?"
"A stableboy told me."
"You asked?" She seemed upset. She was upset.
"I was curious, Anne."
Her brows furrowed.
"Curiosity killed the cat, my dear. You know this saying. Why were you curious? Do you wish to know more of her? Have you then heard that you are free to call upon her whenever you wish?"
"Upon my word, Anne!" Darcy exclaimed in shock. "I am and will never be that kind of man."
"Nonetheless, you are a man!" She shouted, enunciating her point. "I expect not your fidelity in this relationship. Especially in our marriage. I am weak, Darcy, and my chances of giving you proper and healthy heirs are slim. I am painfully aware of that. I may even die in childbirth."
"This is absurd." He cried. "You are overacting, Anne."
"I wish you to know that I am aware, William." She said softly. "And I am insecure. I am not vain but I know I am pretty but that is not enough to establish affection between us. I know, before this agreement, you've been finding future Mistress of Pemberley. You desire a woman with fire. Intelligent enough to keep up with your battles of wits. And a woman with a healthy blush coloring her cheeks. I possess none of these." She smiled faintly at him with tears shining in her eyes.
"Anne, please . . ." He closed his eyes briefly. "I will never. I desire her not. I can not desire a woman accused of debauchery."
She sniffed. "I know. You're too proud for that." Anne said, recognizing his own faults. Darcy stood in silence before excusing himself and bowing, apologizing to her for one last time.
He rubbed his temples.
