As Darcy and Anne neared the house, he slowed his pace and turned to Anne in order to ask the question which was causing him the most distress. "What will your mother say when she finds out what I intend to do, what shall she say to you? I do not want her to cause you any distress. I know you will be happy for me, but I do not like the idea of leaving you with the wrath of Lady Catherine."
"We shall cross that bridge when we come to it," Anne replied softly. "I dare say she will be most vicious and hysterical when faced with the reality. Do not fret over mother, I assure you I can handle her." At this reply Darcy raised his eyebrow in disbelief. "What you do not believe me," Anne laughed with as much bravado as she could muster, "that my dear cousin is a poor show indeed, I have almost half a mind to be offended."
"My sincerest of apologies, but seriously Anne, what will you do? The offer to come to Pemberley whenever you wish is always open to you, Georgiana would love to have you stay with us I am sure, even if just for a short visit. It is about time you thought about yourself Anne, you cannot wish to be stuck at Rosings always, reliant on your mother, at the mercy of her whims and hysterics."
"Who says I am reliant on my mother, it is she who should perhaps for once reconsider her actions in connection with me," Anne replied with exasperation.
Darcy looked at Anne with much curiosity before asking, "whatever do you mean Anne?"
"My father left me very well provided for, he invested exceedingly well. When I once told you, I had no intention of marrying, I truly meant it. I do not have the desire to marry without love and I do not have the need to do so."
"Anne," said Darcy smiling at her, "I had no idea. I am relieved to know you are at liberty to have your own independence. If you need any help, at any time, with regards to looking for accommodation of your own, or anything, I am always at your service."
'Darcy," she laughed, "I do not require your help with regards to securing accommodation, although the gesture is very sweet and greatly appreciated. If anything, I have far more than I will ever require." She took a deep breath before continuing; "Rosings Park is mine and mine alone, as are Rutland and Abberton Farm, the house in Bath, the house in Grosvenor Square and several other properties in London of which I am sole landlord. The London properties and the farms I leave to be over seen by my father's late steward. He and I have taken care of all financial and business matters together, and have done so since I turned nineteen. My mother is mistress of Rosings Park because I let it be so. She has always been the mistress of Rosings Park, I could not take that away from her, I could never be that heartless."
"Anne, I had no idea," replied Darcy scratching the back of his head as he considered what he had just learnt.
"And why should you," Anne smiled as she began to climb the steps to the front door, "it does not change who I am. How does it feel by the way," she asked Darcy, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin, "to be the poor relation?"
He stood at the foot of the stone steps and let out a roar of laughter. "Away and change for dinner you wicked creature."
"As you instruct," she smiled giving him a low comical curtsy at the top of the stairs before heading through the large entryway and out of sight.
Mr Collins paced back and forth across the small hall of the Parsonage getting more and more agitated with every step. "Make haste, make haste," he cried, "her Ladyship detests lateness above all things, we must be punctual. Charlotte my dear do hurry; Maria may I recommend the blue shawl, I flatter myself as I believe her Ladyship will find it the least offensive of the two considering the colour of your attire. Cousin Elizabeth! Charlotte my dear where is Elizabeth, I cannot stress the importance of punctuality."
Charlotte rolling her eyes heavenward gently rapped her knuckles against Elizabeth's bedchamber door. She had not seen her friend all afternoon, not since she and the Colonel had returned from their early afternoon walk.
Lizzie lifted her head from her pillow. The agitation and tears which had followed from her earlier discussion with the Colonel with regards to poor Jane, had brought on a headache. As evening came the headache only grew worse, that, added to her unwillingness to see Mr Darcy, only made her determination not to attend Rosings all the more certain. Charlotte opened the door ajar and upon seeing that Eliza was really unwell, did not press her to go and as much as possible prevented her husband from pressing her further. Mr Collins could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather displeased by her staying at home. Not to mention it was a particular invitation from Miss Anne de Bourgh who, he was certain, would take his cousins lack of attendance as a slight on her! Charlotte, reaching the end of her patience managed to shoo him out of the house, reminding him of their already tardy time keeping.
Anne sat in the parlour talking to Miss Jenkinson, her mother's lady companion, awaiting the arrival of her evening dinner companions. Her mother was currently in the hall berating the cook over some mishap with the evening's menu, while Darcy sat at the writing desk drafting a letter to Georgiana. Richard and the Collins party were yet to arrive.
Anne had barely spoken to Richard since their unexpected collision in the arboretum. She was sure he had not forgiven her for almost running him down with her phaeton. In truth he had kept his distance from her for most of his stay. Anne could not understand it, did he not trust her to leave the past alone? She had accepted his decision, they had been so close once, but it was no more than a passing fancy. After that summer in Yorkshire together, she had with utter certainty believed he felt something towards her. Perhaps not the love that she herself held for him, but a true affection nevertheless. He had seemed truly forlorn, just as she, when the time came for them to part. His duties meant he had to return to his regiment, but he had promised her he would come to Rosings Park at his first opportunity. For a month they exchanged letters frequently. Although there was no mention of love, Anne had been certain that his words implied so much more than what was merely expressed on the paper. What a fool she had been. The letters slowly became less frequent, shorter in length, entirely devoid of the warmth and feeling she had come to expect, until they simply stopped coming altogether. Those last letters seemed to be from a stranger, someone so unconnected with her, they had left her quite heartbroken. The weeks that followed Anne barely slept, barely ate and kept to her own company. When required she would sit with her mother, but would engage in conversation as little as possible. At first her mother said nothing, which both relieved and upset Anne. On one hand she did not have the strength or courage to speak to her mother of her broken heart - especially the gentleman who had left it shattered. On the other, could her mother not see her visible distress, her melancholy? Did she simply not matter to anyone? Her mother's sheer lack of interest in her daughter's well-being simply fuelled Anne's black mood further.
After several weeks of no correspondence Anne wrote what she promised would be her last letter to Richard. She decided she had nothing to lose. She set out a short but to the point overview of her feelings towards him; she told him she loved him, had loved him as long as she could remember. She asked him to send her word if there was any way in which she could hope that the feelings were returned. Failure to hear from him would be evidence enough of his rejection. She had wished him all the best, for this was the polite thing to do, and promised him that whatever he decided, she would respect his decision. He had her confidence that this discussion would go no further. At the time, call it the naivety of being only nineteen; Anne was sure she would receive a reply and all would be well. Simply a misunderstanding of sorts. However, the reply never came. Weeks turned into months and Anne finally had to give up all hope.
It was at this time several of the children from the local village fell ill with Scarlet Fever. Fed up of feeling sorry for herself and spending all day in the house, Anne decided enough was enough. She put baskets together for the families of the sick children and began to visit them, leaving baskets of food and clothing to help aid those less fortunate and hopefully offer some comfort. Her mother was oddly supportive of the activity, as long as Anne did not involve herself personally with the sick. At first, she complied with her mother's wishes, overseeing the baskets and their contents before sending them away with the young stable boys for delivery. There had been the odd occasion when Anne had defied her mother and taken a couple of baskets in her pony and cart in order to deliver these personally to local acquaintances in order to enquire as to the children's improvement in person.
However, the fever soon spread with more of the village falling ill, alongside farm hands and household staff at Rosings Park. It was then that Lady Catherine decided the best option was to remove herself and Anne for the safety of Bath, to their home in the Kings Circus. As the arrangements were made to relocate to Bath as soon as possible, Anne felt there could be no harm in her helping nurse the ill young girls who helped in the kitchen the evening before they were due to depart. Mrs Allen, the cook, had been busy making broth while other members of staff made rags to form cold compresses. Anne spent the evening helping feed the poor girls and read aloud to them while they dozed in and out of sleep. She herself was tired, for it had been months since she had slept a full night without waking. By the time morning came, Anne was exhausted and looking forward to the prospect of a long carriage journey. Hopefully the motion would send her straight to sleep as it always had done in the past. As she checked the last of trucks she turned and caught sight of herself in the looking glass. Her skin was waxy, the shadows under her eyes puffy and dark and she was considerably thinner. Neither wonder Richard refused you, she thought with disgust and turned, heading downstairs to the hall. As she stood awaiting the appearance of her mother, Anne undid the clasp of her cloak, suddenly feeling far too warm. Her head felt rather fuzzy and she was aware that she had begun to perspire. At that moment her mother descended the stairs dressed in her finest travelling furs, her small Papillion following at her ankles.
"Ahh Anne, wonderful you are ready, I thought it best little Daphne ride in the carriage with us, for she whimpers terribly unless held on a knee... Anne," her mother stopped mid-sentence and looked at her daughter. "Are you alright?" But no sooner were the words out of Lady Catherine's mouth before Anne collapsed to the floor.
"Anne, Anne," cried Lady Catherine. "Anne for heaven's sake Anne, did you hear me? I asked you a question!"
"I beg your pardon mother," replied Anne snapping back to the present. She had been so engrossed in her own thoughts and memories she hadn't even noticed the arrival of Mr Collins, his wife and young Maria. "Where is Miss Elizabeth this evening?" Anne glanced looking round the room. Richard was still nowhere to be seen.
"I am afraid," replied Mr Collins, "my dear, delicate cousin is feeling unwell and must ask for your forgiveness, but her absence could not be prevented."
"Yes, yes," interjected Lady Catherine with a wave of her hand, "it is all very vexing for whom shall play the piano forte now?"
From his position at the back of the room, Darcy caught Anne's eye and gave her a pleading look. She gave him a slight nod of encouragement, then in an attempt to distract her mother began; "Perhaps Mr Collins would be so kind as to entertain us after dinner with another of his superb readings, I know I cannot be the only one awaiting another..."
"And pray where are you going?" Rang out Lady Catherine, interrupting Anne, drawing everyone's attention to the doorway. Darcy froze, he had been attempting to escape unnoticed. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. Think man, he scolded himself, say something.
"Yes, an excellent idea," Anne said brightly, "do go and fetch Richard, honestly his time keeping is atrocious."
"Punctuality," said Lady Catherine, turning to her adoring audience of Mr Collins, "is one of the true markers of proper society. I myself am never late, and never early for that matter.
As Mr Collins began his praise for her mother, Anne flashed Darcy a quick smile and jerked her head encouraging him to take his leave. He gave her a small smile and left the room walking out into the foyer. He stood a moment listening to the voices coming from the parlour. He quietly went to the main door and let himself out. Confident he was not being observed he headed down the main drive and quickened his pace, heading directly towards the Parsonage, in search of Miss Bennet.