Hello wonderful people... We have reached our penultimate chapter!

Thanks to those who message and review, the responses have been so lovely! I feel a little conflicted now the story is drawing to a close, I've grown rather fond of Anne. Crazy that this began life as a mere one shot!

I hope you are all keeping well and staying safe!

Y

Anne glanced around the empty foyer with trepidation. All the staff which had been so frantically occupied this morning were now nowhere to be seen. Anne had a small suspicion that perhaps Hughes was the reason behind this now befallen moment of calm.

"I hope you will not object to my forwardness Miss de Bourgh," Hughes spoke in his gentle manner. I took the liberty of dismissing the staff to go about their usual daily business. I also sent word to Mrs Allen to have a refreshment tray sent to your rooms. I thought perhaps you may wish for something restorative, after such an early start. Though if you would prefer, I can have breakfast arranged as per usual in the eastern morning room?"

"No thank you Hughes. I think your initial instinct a most excellent plan, I shall retire to my room, if you would see that I am not disturbed." She turned to leave, then hesitated a moment. Somehow simply knowing her mother was no longer within the house made Rosings Park feel vast and uncontrollable. What exactly would the role of mistress expect of her? There were likely many household matters which Anne would need to address, to oversee and govern. As to what they may be and the scale of their importance Anne could not yet quite fathom. Running the estate with the invaluable aid of her steward was one thing; but the running of the grand house was a task all its own.

"Miss de Bourgh?" Hughes spoke her name softly. He disliked seeing the young miss quite so obviously troubled.

"Yes, Hughes?" Anne replied after a short pause, finally facing him with a blank expression.

"With regards to your mother's sudden departure, may I just say on behave of the staff, you have nothing to fear. The house runs on a well organised routine, one of careful structure and due diligence. We all know our place, our duties; and shall continue in the same vein unless you wish to tell us otherwise. I am sure you will desire a private audience with the housekeeper, myself and Mrs Allen, but that does not need to take place at this very moment. We shall all be here, ready and willing when you so desire."

Anne looked at the elderly butler and smiled, touched that Hughes should feel so compelled to offer her comfort.

"It is as though you have read my mind. Hughes, would you be so kind as to inform the staff that they may take today as they would every Sunday, and work but half the day. I think after the eventful early start for many we could all use a little down time."

"I shall have word sent to the staff momentarily, Miss de Bourgh, though you need not show such kindness. Though such an act it is to be expected. Your father was always much the same."

"I am afraid it is getting harder for me to recall my father, let alone his habits."

"I would not worry so much upon that fear. Through your actions the likeness is uncanny, one can never truly forget who they really are."

"Thank you, I shall remember that."

An hour later Anne felt much more at ease after devouring a tray filled high with cold cuts, jam and drop scones. She sat back upon the settee in her private sitting room and drank the last of her sugary sweet tea. The restorative powers of a warm soothing cup of tea were simply quite marvellous. She looked across the room at the morning sunlight now shining brightly through the window, suddenly feeling most desirous to be outdoors.

Maybe she could go for a ride, or perhaps take out the phaeton? She wrinkled her nose at the idea; she did not wish to go riding. In truth if she planned to ride, she wished for Amirah, no other horse could compare to the small Arabian beauty. It wasn't just the Arabians company she desired, most of all she wished for Edward. She would write to him this afternoon. She was in two minds as to whether she should return to London. She wanted to speak with him in person; to tell him what had occurred with her mother and the incident involving his unread letter. She could not help but wonder at the letter's content. Her mother had spoken of sentiment and of love. Anne could only hope that this was indeed the case.

She looked out the window and the bright blue sky. She simply needed to be outdoors to take in the fresh air and clear her head. She was certain walking the grounds would clear her mind and restore her measure. Upon her writing desk sat the small leather roll which contained her preferred drawing materials. Smiling to herself she stood up and retrieved the roll alongside her sketchbook. Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, she tucked the sketchbook under her arm and left her room heading downstairs. She had not quite reached the central landing when she became aware of voices in the foyer below. Instantly she recognised the voice.

"Anne, how glad I am to you see. I was just inquiring as to the health of your mother, but I have been informed she is not at home! Nor Darcy for that matter. How happy I am to have found you, for it would have been a great pity indeed had I travelled all this way to be met only with an empty house."

He smiled at her, taking in her pleasing appearance of a simple dress and hair style. Yes, here was the Anne whom he knew so well.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," Anne replied, placing her drawing materials on a small walnut table. "I had not expected anyone, what a surprise. Indeed, mother left for Bath this morning, you have not long missed her. I am surprised you did not pass her carriage."

"Aw, well, as it happens, I stayed the evening at the Inn by the old mill. I thought it best, assuming to find Lady Catherine quite indisposed. I did not to want to risk waking the entire house with my late arrival. I took breakfast not less than an hour ago and made the rest of the short distance here."

"Now that I know you do not require to be fed immediately," Anne smiled teasingly, "perhaps you would be so kind as to join me for tea? Hughes, we will have tea served in the yellow morning room. Can you check with Mrs Allen to see if there are any more of those delicious drop scones to be had?"

Richard followed Anne towards the morning room, not quite able to believe his luck at finding her thus alone. In truth he had only stayed the previous evening at the nearby Inn in order to delay seeing Lady Catherine. He had felt unprepared for an altercation with his aunt, he had delayed his arrive in order to further prepare. He was still uncertain of how to say what he intended; he had spent much of the evening considering how best to make his case.

He knew he could not wait much longer, in fear that Colville would perhaps send word to Anne wishing confirmation of the tale which he had spun him so conveniently. Richard did not think the gentleman one to press matters when he had been told not to concern himself, but one could never be too careful.

He had thought long and hard over what his next course of action should be. His little disagreement with Miss Bingley had only added to his chagrin. He had left London not long after their cross words, his thoughts most concerned with the best way to tackle his aunt Catherine. He did not think Anne would reject him if he were to ask her to be his wife, yet Lady Catherine had scunnered such plans in the past.

He sat back upon the satin settee and observed Anne as she poured the tea into fine china cups, each with gleaming gilded rims. Everything within Rosings was touched with golden highlights; the house was everything ostentatious, a fine representation of its wealth and status. He watched her small hands as she reached for the sugar tongs, placing three large lumps into the hot liquid, before handing the cup to him. She knew him well.

He watched a loose curl of her auburn hair as it escaped the loose knot at the base of her alabaster neck. She was still, what he would consider, classically beautiful; serene with a steady unassuming character. Woman of such calibre were becoming increasingly difficult to find. He suddenly felt uneasy. Her sweet, modest nature and the familiarity of being back at Rosings could not but help bring back images of the past.

He truly had desired her hand, with no other hidden motive, when his heart and head had been filled purely by young love and affection. It had been her open nature, her clear devotion to him which he had found so appealing. That someone so good could think him so superior. He had never cared for another the way he did for Anne. He would be the first to admit that over the year's rejection, conflict, jealousy and the pressures of the world had twisted that once pure affection into something else. How he felt towards her now, when he felt so sure she was within his grasp, he could not tell. As to true love he could only hope, that in time, such a rare feeling would return.

He had been but four and twenty the summer when he had only intended to woo his cousin as a bit of fun. What had started, in his mind eye, as a small competition with Darcy, had quickly backfired. At the end of their summer together at Matlock, he had been posted to a commission down on the eastern coast. He had felt as though his heart would break due to their separation. He had written to Anne the moment he had left. Although never particularly skilled at letter writing, he had tried, perhaps not as consistently as he should; but how did a man express his feelings? Soon Anne's letters became few and far between, then suddenly they stopped altogether. Upon realising that she may not be thinking of him, and fearing that Darcy could still claim her was as his bride; he had departed for Rosings the first official leave he could obtain.

He had arrived full of good spirit, intent on professing his undying love and admiration for his fair cousin. At the time such thoughts of inheritance and his need for a good marriage match, had only held fleeting value in his mind. His affection for Anne, with her kind heart and keen mind, was above such things. He had been blind to such advantages, those advantages which now made their potential marriage most convenient upon reflection of his own shortfalls. Such thoughts however had not bypassed his aunt.

Upon his arrival he had been informed that his cousin was indisposed. Irked at such a response, but not yet deterred, he had asked for an audience with Lady Catherine. He had always been a favourite with his aunt, he had been so confident in her wishing him well. He had spoken of his desire to wed Anne and, of course, he had been refused. He had argued his case, his temper fuelled by emotion. Yet it was not to be. His aunt had stood firm, dismissing him as quite beneath her daughter's notice. Anne would never stoop so low as to be the wife of a soldier, she was destined for much greater things. How those words had scorned him. He had laughed bitterly knowing all too well what his aunt desired. There had already been one Anne Darcy why not another? He had argued with her until he was close to explosion. He had left full of rage, jealousy of his cousin and a darkness which would soon close his heart off entirely.

He knew he was no Saint; he enjoyed the company of woman and had become exceedingly skilled at looking after one's own interests. Yet his feelings towards Anne had always been there, a small undercurrent that surprised him if he did not take care. He had avoided Anne and Darcy by taking a commission on the continent. War was no place for distractions, and he had simply shut such feelings away.

Upon his recent return to Rosings he had been all but resolved to hear news of their engagement. Yet of course this happy marriage was never to take place. He could not but help feel glee at his aunts no doubt displeasure. When he had finally learnt that Darcy was no longer a rival, his heart had not soared as he thought it would. He had been pleased at such news, but his spirit had felt no lighter. Perhaps Darcy was right, perhaps what Richard loved above all as the thrill of the chase. Seeing Anne with Lord Colville however had indeed sparked his interest.

"I must say Richard," Anne spoke softly, pulling him for his reverie, "I am glad you have come; the house feels so large without mother present. I know that seems rather silly, for she has only just departed. How long do you think you will be able to stay in Kent?"

He looked back at her intently, but made no response.

"I am sure Mrs Collins will be delighted to know of your arrival. Perhaps we could walk to the parsonage? I should like your presences very much, for I am tasked with telling Mr Collin's of mother's departure and I am sure that shall not be a simple exchange."

"I do not wish to walk to the Parsonage. Anne, I wish very much if you would allow me to say what it is, I have come all this way to say."

Anne looked at him quizzically. "Of course, what is the matter?"

"You cannot be so naïve, I am sure, to not know what my intentions towards you have been. I believe I made it very clear how much I still admire you upon our last meeting in this very house. I left for Kent intent on asking your mother, yet again, for your hand; but in her absence it allows me to direct the question to you and you alone. What say you? Will you agree to be my wife and make me the happiest of men?"

Anne stared back at him wide eyed. How could words which she had once so longed for now ring in her ears hot and alarming. She looked at his face, his expression was calm as though he had but asked her something simple.

"Richard I..." She paused, as her mind suddenly focused on his words. "You said yet again."

"Sorry?" Richard bucked at her response. His composure slipped; he had been expecting a more positive response.

"What do you mean, yet again," she repeated firmly.

"Well, is that not obvious," Richard remarked, his temper wearing thin. "I came to you that January, when your letters began to waver; most desirous to make you my wife. Lady Catherine refused me. You know this, I told you I came to you."

"I did not know it was marriage that you sought." She bit her lip as she recalled her mother's rendition of their exchange. "Yet what you say is not true. For you did not come to me. You sought my mother's approval but not my own."

"How was I to know you were to be master of your own home and fortune! If I had known then what I do now, then of course it would be you to whom I spoke."

"Why should that have mattered," Anne asked her voice raising slightly. I understand you asking for my mother's permission, but you know how she is. Why did you then still not come to me? Why should such an outcome dictate you addressing me, for was it not I whom you so intended to marry?"

"I thought you would be happy! Yet here you are quibbling over matters I know not what! I have just asked you to marry me. Come now Anne, stop this. Do not toy with me any longer. Do not be so disagreeable, it is unbecoming. I am here now, asking you to be my wife, let us not debate the past which cannot be undone."

"The past makes us who we are Richard, one cannot simply forget. Our disappointments shape us, they leave their mark. You choose to tell my mother of your desire for us to wed but not me. You left me here alone with her. I thought you simply did not care for me! Do you know what that did to me, how it tortured me? You simply took her at her word and abandoned me."

"You think I have not felt pain? You honestly think I rejoiced in being told I was so beneath your notice, that a mere wife of a soldier was so distasteful? You do not know what I have suffered. You have no idea, and look at you now, mistress of all of this. You can sit and chastise me for my past behaviour but it makes no difference. You are correct, our past does indeed shape who be become. Perhaps you are correct, I should not have left you so long in the company of your mother. The girl I once knew would not be so unfeeling to a man offering her his heart."

"And the man whom I once loved would not be so calculating in his response, nor so condescending in his proposal. You talk of love but then chastise me and my behaviour. You tell me to be quiet and compile as you believe I should. Richard I am not the naive young girl whom you seem so fixated on of the past. I will not be spoken to in such a manner, especially not in my own home."

"Your own home! Listen to yourself. Why I do not think even the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh could have said it better. What is it Anne? Not simply content with the mere prospect of owning Rosings Park alongside half of Derbyshire in a most convenient marriage; you now have your sights set on becoming a Viscountess as well?"

"Richard, I think you should leave."

"I shall do no such thing."

"No indeed you are correct you shall not. Not until you answer me thus. Your offer of marriage, would you still have felt so compelled to make a second offer if I was not in possession of my own fortune."

"How can you say such a thing, have I not said that I love you."

"Answer the question," she replied coldly rising from her chair.

"I..." He faltered. Never had he seen her look so determined. "I... I will not dignify such a ridiculous question with an answer. You are a fool if you think a man's actions are not driven by such matters. Do you really think Lord Colville would be interested in aligning himself to you if there was not such an inducement as adding Rosings Park to his list of estates? Come now Anne, marriage is but a contract of convenience. But I, I have always loved you. I am sure you can make me happy."

"Yes, but would you offer the same to me."

She looked at him: taking in his tanned complexion; the deep creases of his brow, the coolness of his eyes and the strong Fitzwilliam jaw. Her heart ached knowing that the young man she had once held above all others, the young man she had loved, was now all but gone. Where once she felt love, now all that remained was pity. "There was a time when I desired nothing more than to be loved by you. The prospect of being your wife, of making you happy seemed a dream quite unattainable."

"Yes, but do you not see, it can yet be our reality. There now, see is that not better;? So you will accept?"

"No," she replied. "I am afraid I cannot. Ours would not be a happy union. Both of us are looking for what the other can no longer give. I wish you well and I love you dearly Richard, but as my cousin and friend. There can be no more to say on the matter."

"You refuse me?" He asked softly as the realisation of the situation began to sink in. His temper began to dissolve leaving a foreign hollow sensation in its wake.

"I do. I am sorry to cause you any pain. I really do think it best if you were to please leave."

"Well, it seems I was rather foolish to come all this way to an empty house after all. I bid you good day Anne. May God watch over you where I have failed."

"Richard, we do not need to part..."

He turned abruptly and left the room leaving Anne mid-sentence. She moved to the window, leaning on the wall for support. She waited a moment, holding her breath until he appeared on the gravel below, heading towards the stables. She stood for what like felt an eternity until she saw him finally saddled upon his horse, crossing the lawn towards the main drive until he was gone.

She stood like that for some time, looking across the empty scene before her. Leaving the morning room, she quickly headed to the foyer, picking up her sketch materials on route and almost knocking over poor Hughes in her haste. She heard him call her name but did not respond, heading with determination towards the orangery. She opened the doors and cut through the back of the house, until she arrived in the kitchen garden. Picking up her skirts, she ran along the path until she felt quite breathless, heading for the one spot she knew she would not be disturbed.

Once seated upon the rotting, faded timber Anne finally allowed herself to breath. Her head ached and her eyes stung from holding back tears. Tears had never worked where Richard was concerned, she would be damned if she would spill even one for him now. Yet she felt a bitter sort of sadness. A sadness over what could have been and how their lives had become so separate. She leaned back and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, letting the sweet scent of the honeysuckle sooth her senses. Suddenly she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. With her eyes still shut she felt her anger resurface.

"I thought I told you to leave," she called through gritted teeth.

"I do apologise, but I must confess, I never heard you say such a thing."

Her eyes opened wide as her heart began to race. She looked towards the tall gentleman who stood not but ten yards in front of her.

"Edward."