Author's Note: And now we hear from Lady C and Collins. And Anne, not to forget about her. I updated this chapter, just a little, to make it so that Anne is not complicit in her mother's actions.

Chapter 12

Rosings
Tuesday, 15 October, 1811

Lady Catherine de Bourgh sat in her favourite chair in her preferred drawing room when her new rector arrived for his regular visit. She expected him to come at least once a week to discuss the concerns of those in his parish. It mattered not whether they were her tenants; she considered herself the ultimate authority in her corner of Kent and demanded to be involved in all matters that transpired within her little kingdom. This was precisely why she had designed her favourite room to resemble a throne room, with her chair perched on a dais to ensure she towered over her guests.

"Mr. Collins, what news do you have for me today?" she demanded.

"Not much regarding the parishioners, I am afraid, for I have received a most distressing letter from my cousin, delivered by express. It seems the daughter I was supposed to marry has disappeared, and he insists I come immediately to see what can be done," he blustered.

Lady Catherine's sharp gaze pierced through Mr. Collins as she sat back, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of her grand chair. The imposing nature of her throne-like seat only heightened her air of superiority. She leaned forward slightly, her voice cold and commanding. "Disappeared, you say? What kind of absurdity is this, Mr. Collins? Explain yourself clearly."

Mr. Collins shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glancing at the ornate carpet beneath his feet. "He does not provide any specifics, my lady, only that she is no longer at home. The circumstances are quite alarming, to say the least."

"Alarming indeed," Lady Catherine responded, her tone sharp. "This is a grave matter, particularly for someone of your standing. Do you not have any influence over the local constabulary? They must be informed to assist in the search."

"Yes, my lady, I plan to contact them at once," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "However, I am uncertain how much they can truly do. It seems there is much confusion surrounding her disappearance. My cousin mentioned a young gentleman who has been seen in the vicinity, but the details are scarce."

"Of course, it must be a young man," Lady Catherine huffed, waving her hand dismissively. "They are always to blame for such disturbances. Have you considered the possibility of writing directly to this young man? Perhaps he knows something of her whereabouts."

"I cannot contact him, for Mr. Bennet did not reveal his name. Indeed, my cousin begs me to come at once," Mr. Collins insisted, wringing his hands as he stood before Lady Catherine.

"Bennet?" Lady Catherine asked sharply, her tone slicing through the air like a knife. "Where is this estate you are to inherit? Who is this cousin of yours? What is his name?" With each question, her voice rose in both volume and urgency, creating an atmosphere thick with tension.

"Thom… Thomas Bennet… of Long… Longbourn, in Hert… Hertfordshire," Collins stammered, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he felt the weight of her piercing gaze.

"Bennet?" Lady Catherine's brow furrowed, the name stirring something deep within her memory. Why does that name sound familiar? After a brief pause, her expression darkened, and her eyes widened with fury as the connection finally struck her. "Did you say Thomas Bennet of Longbourn?" Her voice dropped to a low growl, each word dripping with menace.

"Which daughter were you to marry? Which of his daughters has disappeared?" she demanded.

"E… Eli… Elizabeth," Collins stuttered, backing up a step as if trying to distance himself from her wrath. "I understand she… she is his sec… second daughter."

Lady Catherine's eyes flashed with rage, narrowing into slits. "Elizabeth Bennet? Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn?" she thundered, the walls of the drawing room seeming to vibrate with the force of her outrage. "And she has disappeared from Longbourn? Is he certain it is a disappearance, not an elopement."

Collins flinched at the sharpness of her voice, which rose to an uncomfortable pitch, his heart racing as he watched her face flush an alarming shade of red. "I… I… I don't know for certain, madam" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "He … did not … give me … any other information."

"Show me the letter!" Lady Catherine demanded, her tone brooking no argument.

"He … here," Collins said, thrusting the letter forward, his hands trembling. The paper quaked in his grip, reflecting his own uncertainty and dread. As Lady Catherine snatched it from him, he braced himself for her next outburst, knowing the consequences of the information contained within.

Lady Catherine hastily scanned the letter, pacing back and forth on her dais for several moments, while Collins watched her, too afraid to move. She abruptly moved to the side of the room and yanked on the hidden bell-pull, her agitation palpable. "Where is Wickham now? What did his last report say?" she demanded of the servant who answered. "Does he mention where my nephew is at present?"

"Wickham should return within the next day or two. Your nephew went to London after leaving Rosings, though he intended to visit his friend, that tradesman named Bingley, at his leased estate."

"And where is this leased estate? What town? Do you know the name of it?" Lady Catherine probed, her voice sharp.

"I do not believe Wickham provided the name of the village. He merely mentioned it was a few hours north of London. I believe the estate name began with an 'N.' Never… something. It is in Hertfordshire, near Meryton," the servant replied cautiously, his eyes darting about nervously.

"Hertfordshire?" Lady Catherine's voice rose in pitch, shrill with disbelief.

"Yes, madam," the servant confirmed.

Lady Catherine resumed her pacing, her fury growing. "My own nephew? He has disgraced our family in this manner?" She stopped for a moment, a mix of disbelief and rage coursing through her, then surged to her feet, towering over Collins with her hands clenched into fists. "That impertinent girl! And my nephew—how could he be so foolish?"

Collins recoiled, wide-eyed and helpless, as Lady Catherine began to pace furiously, her skirts rustling with each aggressive step. "I shall not allow this to pass unchallenged!" she declared, her voice filled with indignation. "Darcy shall hear from me at once. That girl—that impudent, scheming girl—will not become mistress of Pemberley. I shall see to it myself!"

Shifting uneasily from foot to foot, Collins felt uncertain about what to say or do. Lady Catherine clearly believed that his intended bride was with her nephew, the one who was engaged to Miss de Bourgh. How could this have happened?

He had never witnessed Lady Catherine in such a rage, and although he feared her fury, his heart sank at the implications this might have for him. Would his prospects be ruined by this scandal? Clearly, he could not fulfil the marriage contract now, but he had no idea how Bennet would react to his refusal. Accustomed to relying on others for guidance, he found himself at a loss when both of those who typically directed him would be angry with him regardless of what he did.

Lady Catherine stopped abruptly and turned back to him, her eyes blazing. "Mr. Collins," she said, her tone dangerously calm now, "you will go to Longbourn at once. You will gather all the information you can about this… disgraceful elopement. I want details—everything. And you will ensure that when I arrive, I will have the final say in this matter. Do I make myself clear? If you discover that it is in fact my nephew she has eloped with, you will inform me immediately."

Collins nodded rapidly, eager to appease her. "Yes, Your Ladyship. I… I shall do as you command."

"Good," she snapped. "If you do as I say in this, you will still have a place at Hunsford for your lifetime. But mark my words—this is not over. I will have my way."

With a dismissive flick of her hand, Lady Catherine turned away from Collins, her gaze locking on the window as her mind churned with cold calculation. She refused to let Elizabeth Bennet triumph; this was a battle she was determined to win. Four years ago, she had successfully blocked Darcy from marrying that insolent girl, and she would not allow anything to unravel her efforts now. Her nephew had been manipulated once, but Elizabeth Bennet would not secure the prize that rightfully belonged elsewhere. Lady Catherine would personally see to it—Elizabeth Bennet would never become mistress of Pemberley. Her family's honour, her control over Darcy, and her pride were not to be trifled with.

After Collins left, Lady Catherine continued pacing, her expression dark with fury. "Fools, the lot of them!" she muttered under her breath. "How could they have allowed my nephew to get so entangled with that girl? It must be Darcy—she would not have eloped with anyone else, not on such a brief acquaintance."

Her steps quickened as her thoughts sharpened. "When Wickham returns, I will make my displeasure known. I will give it a day or two to hear back from Collins, and then I shall go to Pemberley myself. I will be waiting when they arrive—and I will ensure that this disgraceful marriage is annulled before it can do any lasting damage." She stopped suddenly, standing rigid in the centre of the room. "This is my responsibility. I should never have trusted others to handle what I should have taken into my own hands. But now—now I will end it."

Her fists clenched at her sides, her mind resolute. Lady Catherine was not accustomed to losing—and she would not start now.

Unbeknownst to her, Anne de Bourgh overheard everything her mother said. She was aware that her cousin had met someone years ago, though she had not heard the woman's name or anything else about her. Now, she knew that the lady's name was Elizabeth, and that she and Darcy were apparently on their way to Scotland. That brought a smile to her face, for she had little desire to marry her cousin.

No, Anne had her own plans. She would not be dragged into her mother's schemes. The moment Lady Catherine departed for Pemberley, Anne would feign illness, preventing herself from being forced to join her mother on the journey. She knew her mother would object, but Anne was well-versed in circumventing her mother's will.

With quiet steps, she retreated to her room, her mind already whirring with ideas. Once her mother was out of the way, Anne would set her plans into motion—plans that had nothing to do with her cousin and everything to do with securing her own future.

Anne moved swiftly to shut the door to her room, her usual lethargy replaced by a sharp sense of purpose now that she had a plan. Her eyes scanned the space as if seeing it anew. If she was going to put her plans into action, she would need to be ready as soon as Lady Catherine was gone.

For years, she had been the quiet, unassuming daughter, her supposed frailty and sickliness used as an excuse by her mother to control her every movement. But Anne was neither as weak nor as helpless as Lady Catherine believed. Over time, she had learned how to feign her ailments, appearing just sick enough to avoid travel or unpleasant social obligations.

Her mother had rarely questioned it—Anne had been sickly as a child, and Lady Catherine had assumed that frailty would follow her into adulthood. But now, Anne had strength of will her mother had not foreseen, and she was ready to use it.

She quickly rifled through the letters hidden in the drawer of her writing desk, letters she had kept secret from her mother. One in particular, from a family in London, held her attention. They had expressed interest in her—more than a casual interest, in fact. Their son was of good standing and considerable wealth, and most importantly, he had little interest in country society, a notion Anne found quite agreeable.

Her mother would be furious if she knew Anne had been corresponding with the son of a baron behind her back, but Lady Catherine had become too obsessed with Darcy's future to pay much attention to her daughter's affairs. And once Anne's marriage plans were settled, her mother's objections would be meaningless.

Sitting down, Anne began penning her letter to the baron's son, informing him that she would soon be free from Rosings Park and in a position to meet him in London. She kept the tone light, knowing he would understand the deeper meaning. With Lady Catherine out of the picture, she would finally be able to escape the stifling hold of Rosings and her mother's relentless ambitions.

As she finished the letter, her mind wandered back to her cousin. Leaning back in her chair, Anne allowed herself a rare smile. Soon, she would have control over her own life. And if Darcy and Elizabeth were to face the wrath of Lady Catherine, well, that was their concern, not hers. Though Anne had never met Elizabeth, it was clear she was no ordinary woman to have attracted Darcy's interest and held it for years.

A part of Anne felt relief at the idea of Elizabeth being her cousin's wife—she knew, at least, that Darcy had no interest in her, nor she in him. In fact, the two had discussed the lady on occasion, though not in recent years. Quickly taking up her pen, she jotted a note to her cousin Richard Fitzwilliam warning him of her mother's machinations. Anne had occasionally heard the name Wickham spoken by her cousins, and always angrily. She did not know what his connection was to Darcy or what her mother had to do with him but still thought it prudent to warn Fitzwilliam that her mother was in contact with him

After tucking the letters into a locked section of the drawer, Anne stood ready to begin her preparations. However, before she could move to do so, she heard a soft knock on the door and called for the person to enter.

When Mrs. Jenkinson entered, her gaze was full of concern. The older woman had been the girl's companion for years, tasked by Lady Catherine with monitoring Anne's health and wellbeing. But over time, Mrs. Jenkinson had grown more loyal to Anne herself, quietly becoming an ally rather than a watchdog.

"Mrs. Jenkinson, I need you to prepare for something," Anne said, her tone unusually firm. The older woman raised an eyebrow, surprised by Anne's sudden decisiveness.

"What is it, Miss Anne? Are you feeling unwell?" Mrs. Jenkinson asked, stepping closer, her eyes scanning Anne for signs of illness.

Anne shook her head. "No, not unwell—far from it, in fact. I am making plans. My mother will be leaving for Pemberley soon to confront Darcy, and once she is gone, I intend to leave Rosings."

Mrs. Jenkinson gasped, clearly shocked by the declaration. "Leave? But Miss Anne, where will you go? Does Lady Catherine know of this?"

"No, and she must not," Anne replied swiftly, glaring at the servant who was her only friend. "Not until it is too late for her to stop me. Right now, she is focused on Darcy's marriage to this Elizabeth Bennet. She will leave for Pemberley within days to confront them. Once she is gone, I shall make my way to London. Rosings is mine and has been for several years now, but I have allowed her to continue to run it. It is time I take care of what is mine."

Mrs. Jenkinson's brows furrowed in concern. "London? Alone? Miss Anne, this is highly irregular! What about your health?"

Anne let out a quiet sigh. "I am healthier than my mother believes, as you well know, Mrs. Jenkinson. For years I have used my 'illness' to keep my mother from controlling me completely. But I am not ill, and I refuse to remain trapped here any longer."

Mrs. Jenkinson hesitated, wringing her hands. "But, Miss Anne… what do you intend to do once you arrive in London? Surely, you cannot go without protection or a plan?"

"I have a plan," Anne said, her voice calm but resolute. "I have been corresponding with a gentleman, the son of a baron. He has shown an interest in me, and once I arrive, we will meet. He is not aware of the true nature of my situation, but I believe I can persuade him to marry me quickly. Once that is done, my mother will have no authority over me."

Mrs. Jenkinson's eyes widened further. "A gentleman? Oh, Miss Anne, this is all so sudden. Are you certain?"

Anne gave a small, confident nod. "Yes. More certain than I have ever been. My mother has spent my entire life planning for me to marry Darcy, but he does not want me, and I do not want him. As I said, it is time I live my own life."

Mrs. Jenkinson's concern softened into something like admiration. She had seen Anne's quiet strength for years but had never imagined she would take such bold steps. "If this is what you truly want, Miss Anne, I will help you however I can."

"I knew I could count on you, Mrs. Jenkinson," Anne replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "Now, I need you to help me prepare for my mother's departure and, after that, my own. When she leaves for Pemberley, I will be ready to leave for London."

Mrs. Jenkinson nodded, her loyalty to Anne unshaken. "Very well, Miss Anne. I will see to it."

A/N: Lady C has spies, but perhaps not like you thought. Back to Pemberley and the Darcys in the next chapter. And to hear from Lord and Lady Matlock and find out their thoughts on the matter.

Did I do enough to make Anne a little more sympathetic? She knows only a little of what her mother has done, and is not aware of the plot against Georgiana.