The next few days passed in a similar manner. The gentleman would breakfast with Anne and her Mother, before heading outdoors to enjoy the early warmth of the spring sunshine. Her cousins spent a great deal of time at the parsonage, calling on the ladies daily. Colonel Fitzwilliam's manners were very much admired, and the ladies all felt that he must add considerably to the pleasures of their engagements at Rosings during his stay. Maria Lucas, Charlotte's younger sister, found herself all a flutter the moment the Colonel appeared on the path from Rosings. Elizabeth believed the shy girl spent a great deal of time simply looking out of the upstairs window in anticipation for his most desired arrival.
Although Darcy accompanied Richard often on these visits, there were times when he simply came alone. Being the sort of man who thrived best when in spirited company, Richard had called at the parsonage a great many times. He found Miss Elizabeth Bennet to be the most lively of company, and for him, this offered a great diversion from the troubling sights he witnessed at Rosings. As much as he loved his aunt; for he did indeed have a deep affection for the woman, despite her being as prickly as an ill-tempered general, he could not adhere to her constant and self-indulgent ranting. It would not have been so awful, if not for the topic, which she spoke about at great length and with such enthusiasm. Richard had no desire to hear his aunt's constant remarks about the need for Darcy to marry and secure an heir for Pemberley. Her constant scolding for his still being single and not respecting family duty, to her overly dramatic praise that he would be a fine husband, almost drove Richard to insanity. How could Darcy, or Anne for that matter, bear it. Surely even his aunt could see how ridiculous her behaviour had become. All company knew what the outcome would be, Lady Catherine could hardly be helping the situation occur naturally. Even Richard had to admit, he wished Darcy would hurry and simply set the date. All Richard had to do was wait for the announcement; then he was sure he would feel at liberty to move forward.
After a morning spent at the archery targets, Darcy left Richard in order to attend to some correspondence from his steward which required his immediate attention. Richard had watched as Darcy had headed back in the direction of the house, his back straight, his shoulders stiff. Richard truly believed he brought the best out in Fitz. Their close intimacy since children and Richards perpetual outlook to always see the best in every situation, meant Darcy felt at his most comfortable when socialising with his older cousin. Darcy was so much caught up in his own head, it could not be good for any man. Richard could not fathom why Darcy continued to torture himself, it must be so trying always to meet people's expectations, no man was without fault. He knew Fitz had been worried and self critical after the death of his father, but he had done a fine job as master of Pemberly. His standoffish persona and rather haughty demeanour came from a man simply ill adapt when placed in unfamiliar company and unable to share his inner burdens. For a man with so much and every possibility on the horizon, he did not seem at ease in his own skin. Perhaps, Richard thought, Anne would be good for him.
Deciding that the hour seemed appropriate to call, Richard headed in the direction of the Parsonage. He enjoyed Elizabeth Bennet's sharp wit and readiness to find amusement in all things. Though a sensible girl, she seemed to take great delight in the absurd and Richard was only too willing to oblige. It so happened on this particular visit to the Collins's, Richard came bearing an invitation to join them at Rosings for dinner that evening. The invitation was met with ready enthusiasm by all three ladies, and embarrassing exuberance from Mr Collins. After bidding everyone farewell; and reminding Miss Elizabeth Bennet that she had promised to play the piano forte for him soon, Richard left the Parsonage. His spirit much lightened by his visit, he decided to take the more scenic walk back to Rosings, through the more ornamental section of the arboretum.
Anne sped the little carriage through the rhododendron lined avenues and surrounding specimens of lush hydrangea. Some of the larger trees and shrubs were just beginning to bloom, with sprays of deep pink and white flashing past Anne as she pushed her pretty dappled grey onwards. Her father, keen to make the grounds at Rosings his own, had funded many a plant hunter to bring him back unbeknown plants in order to bring an element of the exotic to his grounds at Kent. Anne took her pony and trap out most afternoons for a solidary ride around the grounds. Her mother was rather partial to a late afternoon nap. This meant Anne could use this window of opportunity to leave her mother with her ladies companion Mrs Jenkins and head outdoors. Richard had been correct in his observations that Anne had never been a truly gifted horsewoman, but when driving her pony and little carriage, she felt she could fly. The last few years however she had spent much time in the saddle. It had become common place for her to visit neighbouring friends with her Scottish cousins, and this was always done on horse back. At first she had borrowed a small pony, for being so short, this had allowed her to build her confidence without heading into the alarming thoroughbred territory. Her aunt kept a healthy sized stable, but the small, solid black pony had been Anne's preference. After several months Anne had mastered the saddle quite satisfactory. It was then that Edward had gifted her the elegant chestnut mare.
"A lady as becoming as you should have a horse to match," he had smiled as Anne had stood open mouthed in shock over the unexpected gift. The mare was the most beautiful creature Anne had ever seen. She was the three year old daughter of one of Edwards favourite racers, though she had never quite matured to her fully anticipated height.
"It was as though the two of you were designed for one another," he had said with much affection, as they had both headed out on their respective mounts. It had pained Anne greatly as her return to Rosings drew closer, for she knew she could not bring the horse with her. A small part of her knew she should never have accepted such a gift in the first place.
Her true passion however would always be riding in her small high perched phaeton. She enjoyed the freedom it offered and the thrill as she raced it. One advantage of this solitary pastime was it allowed Anne time alone with her thoughts. Her mother was on great form, playing the role of mistress of Rosings without fault. Loud and domineering, her mother hated lulls in conversation and took great effort to make sure her voice never allowed such a situation to occur. Anne wouldn't of minded so, if it were not for her one and only focus in conversation. Anne's heart went out to Darcy, it really did. Her mother was a force of nature. He was managing Lady Catherine very well all things considered, though Anne could sense the Colonels patience was wearing thin, which was not a typical characteristic of Richard.
Richard; she had spent a great deal of time thinking how she must not think of Richard. It was difficult, but surely their first meeting after so long was always going to be difficult? She had known what to expect, but she hadn't quite realised how much she would still be affected by his ridiculously boyish grin.
In an attempt to drive away the melancholy from creeping it's way in, Anne drove the phaeton faster. Her hair whirled in wisps about her face as the air whipped past her upturned face. She turned a corner; suddenly filled with panic she pulled hard on the reins, the horse bucking under the sudden change in direction. The carriage abruptly skidded across the pathway and came to a halt 20 odd yards ahead. Anne turned and quickly jumped down from her high perch. Lifting her skirts, she ran back to find the Colonel just emerging from the dense undergrowth, his trousers mud covered with a face like thunder. He had dived head first into the thick undergrowth when Anne's carriage had come upon him. Anne stood, her concern evident across her shocked face as her cousin removed wet leaves from his jacket, his irritation clearly visible.
"Bloody hell woman," he cried. 'Whatever the devil were you thinking!'