Sorry life, illness, and stress have gotten in the way of writing, but here is the next chapter.

Chapter 19 Anne's Agency

Elizabeth Bennet stirred awake to the sound of a rooster crowing in the distance, its sharp call cutting through the quiet morning. She blinked against the faint light seeping through the curtains, her thoughts hazy with the remnants of another restless sleep.

That dream again, she thought, rubbing her temples. It was fleeting, elusive, leaving behind only a lingering sense of urgency. Something important, just beyond her grasp.

Elizabeth rose and dressed, shaking off the unease. By the time she joined Charlotte, Mariah, and Mr. Collins at the breakfast table, the dream had faded entirely from her mind.

Breakfast passed much as it always did, with Charlotte's quiet efficiency contrasting sharply with Mr. Collins' insistent chatter and Mariah's occasional bursts of nervous laughter. Elizabeth found herself unable to focus, her thoughts drifting like the faint breeze outside.

After the meal, Mr. Collins excused himself to attend to his duties at Rosings, and Mariah retreated to her room with a promise to write letters home. Charlotte busied herself in the garden, leaving Elizabeth free to escape into the morning air.

As she walked, the familiar paths around Rosings Park beckoned her. There was no particular destination in mind—only the promise of solitude and the comfort of nature. The rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds filled the silence, easing the weight she hadn't realized she was carrying.

But as she rounded a bend near the edge of the woods, she spotted two figures ahead. One, tall and broad-shouldered, was unmistakably Colonel Fitzwilliam. The other, petite and delicate, could only be Anne de Bourgh.

"Miss Bennet!" Fitzwilliam called, his tone cheerful as he tipped his hat.

Elizabeth hesitated briefly before stepping forward to greet them. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss de Bourgh," she said with a polite smile. "What a surprise to find you both here."

Anne's lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. We thought it would be pleasant to enjoy the fine weather. It seems we are fortunate to have met you on our walk."

Elizabeth inclined her head. "Indeed. May I join you, or would I be interrupting?"

"Interrupting? Nonsense," Fitzwilliam said with a grin. "You'd be doing us a favor. My cousin and I were just lamenting the lack of stimulating conversation."

Anne's gaze lingered on Elizabeth, her expression thoughtful. "We would be glad for your company."

Elizabeth fell into step beside them, the three forming a small, uneven procession. Fitzwilliam quickly filled the air with his usual good-natured chatter, asking about her stay at the parsonage and offering exaggerated complaints about Lady Catherine's latest directives.

Anne, however, remained unusually quiet, her pale features betraying a hint of tension.

Elizabeth glanced at her curiously. "Miss de Bourgh, you seem... preoccupied this morning. I hope all is well?"

Anne hesitated, her delicate hands clasped in front of her as they walked. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer but carrying an uncharacteristic edge of emotion. "You are very kind to ask, Miss Bennet. I suppose I have been reflecting on my own circumstances lately. It is not often one has the opportunity to speak of such things."

Elizabeth's curiosity deepened. "If there is anything you wish to share, I would be glad to listen."

Anne glanced briefly at Fitzwilliam, who gave her an encouraging nod. She took a steadying breath before continuing.

"Miss Bennet," she began, "you may have observed that my life is... heavily influenced by my mother."

Elizabeth nodded cautiously. "It would be difficult not to notice Lady Catherine's... strong presence."

Anne's lips twitched into a faint smile at Elizabeth's tactful response. "Indeed. My mother is a formidable woman, and I respect her greatly. But there are times when her expectations feel like a cage, rather than a guide."

Elizabeth studied her companion closely, sensing the weight behind Anne's words. "I cannot imagine it is easy to live under such scrutiny."

"It is not," Anne admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "There are things I wish to do, choices I wish to make, but they are always overshadowed by what my mother deems appropriate. Even my health has become a matter for her control. It is... stifling."

Elizabeth felt a pang of empathy. Though her circumstances were different, she understood the frustration of living under the expectations of others. "You are stronger than you realize, Miss de Bourgh. To bear such pressures with grace speaks volumes about your character."

Anne met her gaze, her pale eyes gleaming with something like gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Bennet. Your words mean more than you know."

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, breaking the moment with a teasing smile. "I told you, Anne—Miss Bennet is a far better conversationalist than I am."

Elizabeth laughed softly, but her thoughts lingered on Anne's confession. There was more to Miss de Bourgh than she had realized—a hidden depth that belied her delicate exterior.

As they continued their walk, Anne's openness seemed to inspire a sense of camaraderie among them. The conversation turned lighter, Fitzwilliam regaling them with humorous anecdotes from his military career, but Elizabeth couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had passed between them.

Just as Fitzwilliam finished a particularly amusing story about a mishap during a military drill, the sound of hooves crunching on gravel reached their ears. Elizabeth turned her head, spotting Mr. Darcy approaching on horseback, his figure imposing as always. He dismounted with practiced ease, his boots hitting the ground softly as he approached the group.

"Darcy," Fitzwilliam greeted with an exaggerated grin, "you're just in time. We were discussing the perils of embarrassing relatives."

Darcy's gaze flicked between them, lingering briefly on Elizabeth before settling on Fitzwilliam. "An ever-relevant topic, I'm sure," he said dryly, though there was a faint edge of tension in his voice.

Elizabeth, emboldened by the lightheartedness of the moment, smirked. "Indeed, Mr. Darcy. Everyone has a story, even those with the most elevated connections. For instance, I'm sure I've mentioned before my dear cousin Mr. Collins and his... unique approach to compliments."

Darcy stiffened slightly, and Elizabeth caught the flicker of recognition in his expression. It was brief but enough to set her thoughts spinning. She paused mid-step, the weight of something familiar pressing down on her.

Had she said this before? And not just once, but... many times?

Her steps faltered, her breath quickening as fragmented images flashed through her mind: Darcy standing stiffly in the sitting room at Parsonage, his cool gaze as he spoke of her family's improprieties. His voice, low and trembling, confessing his love in a manner both passionate and cruel. Her own voice, sharp and cutting, rejecting him over and over again.

The memories came in a flood, a chaotic swirl of anger, disbelief, and pain. She pressed a hand to her temple, her vision narrowing as the world around her seemed to tilt.

"Elizabeth?" Darcy's voice broke through the haze, taut with concern.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming rush of images. "I... I don't understand," she murmured, her voice trembling. "How could I... why do I remember—" She stopped, gasping for breath as the weight of the memories crushed her.

Darcy took a step forward, his movements hesitant as though afraid to startle her. "Elizabeth, please. Whatever you're recalling, I... those words I once said—I no longer hold them. I—" He stopped himself, his frustration evident as he raked a hand through his hair.

Anne, seeing Elizabeth's growing distress, stepped forward with unexpected resolve. "Miss Bennet," she said softly, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Breathe. Just breathe. Focus on the present, on where you are now."

Elizabeth's eyes darted to Anne, her expression a mixture of panic and confusion. "But it feels so real," she whispered, tears threatening to spill. "The things he said, the things I said... I can't... it's too much."

"I know," Anne said, her voice steady and soothing. "It's overwhelming, but you don't have to face it all at once. You're here with us now. Focus on that."

Darcy stood nearby, his hands clenched at his sides, his expression a storm of guilt and helplessness. Fitzwilliam moved closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder in silent support.

Elizabeth, with Anne's grounding presence guiding her, took a deep breath. The flashes began to shift, the harshness of their arguments giving way to softer moments: Darcy listening intently as she spoke of her uncle's warehouse, his quiet gratitude when she recommended remedies for Anne, the rare warmth in his eyes as they discussed Shakespeare.

Her breathing steadied, though her limbs felt heavy with exhaustion. "I need to go," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Anne nodded, stepping aside to give her space. "Take all the time you need."

Elizabeth turned toward the path leading back to the parsonage, her steps slow and deliberate. She didn't look back, her thoughts still tangled in the weight of what she had remembered.

Darcy watched her retreating figure, his chest tightening with a mixture of hope and despair. "She wasn't angry," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"No," Anne agreed, her voice gentle. "But she wasn't ready either. Give her time."

Darcy nodded, though the tension in his shoulders remained. Time was the one thing he had in abundance—whether he liked it or not.

The walk back to Rosings was subdued, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet filling the silence as Darcy, Anne, and Fitzwilliam each turned over the morning's events in their minds. Darcy's gaze was fixed ahead, his jaw tight and his thoughts a tangle of frustration and guilt. Elizabeth's overwhelmed expression haunted him—the flashes of pain and confusion he had seen in her eyes left a gnawing ache in his chest.

It wasn't long before the three of them reached Darcy's sitting room. Anne sank gracefully into a chair, her usually composed demeanor giving way to a faintly furrowed brow. Fitzwilliam, ever casual, leaned against the mantelpiece, his arms crossed as he studied Darcy with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Darcy, unable to sit, paced near the window. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice tight when he finally spoke. "She remembered, but it wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't... right."

Anne folded her hands in her lap, her voice calm and deliberate. "She remembered the moments of conflict first, Darcy. That's not surprising. Those memories are tied to strong emotions—anger, hurt, shame. They're the ones that would demand her attention first."

"She's been hurt by me so many times," Darcy said, his tone laced with self-reproach. "I never meant to wound her, but my pride... my arrogance blinded me. And now, even as I try to set things right, I seem to be doing more harm."

Anne shook her head. "That's not true. Think about what happened after her panic began. She calmed down. She focused on the better moments—the conversations, the understanding you've started to build. That wouldn't have happened if she still hated you."

Fitzwilliam chimed in, his voice lighter but no less serious. "And she didn't storm off in a fury or call you ungentlemanly this time, Darcy. Small victories."

Darcy stopped pacing, turning to face them. "You think it's enough? To keep trying, even if she remembers only fragments? What if it's never enough to change her mind?"

Anne's gaze was steady. "It's not about changing her mind, Fitzwilliam. It's about showing her the man you are—the man you've become through all of this. If she sees that, truly sees it, the rest will follow."

Darcy sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I wish I'd seen it sooner. How my actions, my words... they've always come across as judgmental. And not just to her. To everyone." He paused, his voice softening. "But seeing her like that today, overwhelmed by those memories... it made me realize how much pain she's carried because of me."

Anne's expression softened. "You've grown, Darcy. You're seeing the world beyond yourself. That's no small thing."

Fitzwilliam smirked faintly, though his tone was warm. "Not bad for the master of Pemberley, eh? You're actually learning to listen. Who would've thought?"

Darcy allowed a faint smile to tug at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's... humbling. To know I've caused so much hurt. To know I've been so blind to it for so long."

Anne leaned forward slightly, her voice quiet but firm. "Humility isn't weakness, Darcy. It's strength. And it's the foundation of real change."

Darcy nodded slowly, taking in her words. He looked between Anne and Fitzwilliam, their support evident despite the weight of the morning's events. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself a flicker of hope.

"I'll keep trying," he said, his voice resolute. "For her. For myself. For all of us."

Anne smiled faintly, her eyes bright with encouragement. "That's all anyone can do."

Fitzwilliam clapped Darcy on the shoulder. "Well said, cousin. Now, let's hope tomorrow is a little less dramatic."

Darcy chuckled softly, the sound carrying a note of gratitude. For all the weight he bore, he wasn't carrying it alone. And that, perhaps, was the greatest change of all.

Darcy leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple with a weary hand. The conversation had revolved around his struggles and Elizabeth for far too long, and the weight of it all was beginning to press heavily on his shoulders. With a decisive shake of his head, he turned his attention to Anne, who was sitting serenely with her hands folded in her lap.

"Enough about me," Darcy said firmly. "Anne, let's talk about you for a change. Elizabeth's recommendations seem to have done wonders for your health. You look stronger than I've seen you in years."

Anne's cheeks colored faintly at the compliment, but her expression remained composed. "It has helped," she admitted softly. "I've felt... clearer, more capable. But I don't know how much of that is the treatment and how much is simply... having some control over my life again."

"Control you should embrace more fully," Darcy replied, his tone encouraging. "You are the mistress of Rosings now, officially for over a year. Have you given any thought to taking a more active role in its management?"

Anne's gaze dropped to her hands, and she hesitated before answering. "I have... but the thought of it still feels daunting. Mother has always been the one to manage Rosings, and even now, she exerts her will over the estate as though I'm merely a figurehead."

"She exerts her will over everything," Fitzwilliam interjected dryly, leaning against the mantel. "But that doesn't mean you have to let her."

Anne smiled faintly at his remark but still looked uncertain. "It's not so simple, Richard. Mother's voice carries a certain authority, even when she's... mistaken. She's always been so sure of her way being the right way."

Darcy leaned forward, his voice steady. "Anne, you know Rosings better than anyone. You've lived here your entire life, and now it is your responsibility, not hers. Lady Catherine may not see it that way, but the estate legally and morally belongs to you. You have every right to assert yourself."

Fitzwilliam nodded, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "And, might I add, this is the perfect day to test the waters. After all, Lady Catherine never remembers this day. If something goes awry, you'll wake up tomorrow with a clean slate. What's the worst that could happen?"

Anne's lips pressed together in thought, her eyes flickering with both trepidation and intrigue. "It's one thing to think about it, but to actually act... I don't know. What if I make a mistake? What if I'm not capable of leading?"

"Anne," Darcy said firmly, his voice imbued with quiet confidence, "you've been managing your health, asserting yourself more, and finding your voice. These are not small things. You've already proven your capability. Managing Rosings is merely an extension of that."

Fitzwilliam chimed in, his tone light but sincere. "And if you do make a mistake? So what? It's not as though we haven't made mistakes in our lives." He shot a teasing glance at Darcy, who rolled his eyes but didn't object. "The point is, you're learning. That's what matters."

Anne looked up at them, her expression softening. "You both make it sound so simple."

"It's not," Darcy admitted. "But it is necessary. Rosings deserves a mistress who cares deeply for it, and that person is you."

Anne was quiet for a long moment, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her dress. Finally, she looked at them both with a determined glint in her eye. "Perhaps... perhaps I could start small. Something manageable. A decision or two that I can assert during tea."

"Now you're talking," Fitzwilliam said with a grin.

Darcy gave a slight nod, his approval evident. "Good. Take it step by step, Anne. You'll find your footing."

The clock chimed softly, marking the approach of afternoon tea. Anne rose from her seat with a steadiness that hadn't always been there. "Thank you," she said quietly, her gratitude sincere. "For believing in me. I'll see you both at tea."

As she left the sitting room, Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy with an approving smirk. "Well done, cousin. You might just make a respectable gentleman yet."

Darcy shook his head but couldn't hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. "We'll see how tea goes before declaring victory."

"Fair enough," Fitzwilliam replied, pouring himself a small glass of brandy. "But I have a feeling Anne might surprise us all."

The tea service was in full swing, Lady Catherine dominating the conversation as always, her sharp voice cutting through the polite murmurs of those gathered in the drawing room. Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and Anne exchanged subtle glances, a shared understanding passing between them. They had expected Mrs. Collins to arrive without Elizabeth, and indeed, she excused her friend with a polite explanation: "Miss Bennet is feeling unwell, your ladyship, and decided to rest."

Lady Catherine sniffed, clearly displeased but unwilling to let the matter derail her chosen topic of the moment—her unmatched skill in estate management.

"Of course, it is no small feat to manage a place like Rosings," Lady Catherine declared. "It requires a sharp mind, impeccable judgment, and a tireless dedication to duty." She cast a sidelong glance at Anne, her voice dropping to a patronizing tone. "Qualities that, regrettably, require more stamina than some are equipped to muster."

Anne set down her teacup carefully, her hands steady despite the quiet tension in her expression. "Mother," she said evenly, "I have been thinking. Perhaps it is time I involve myself more in the management of Rosings."

The room went still. Lady Catherine froze mid-reach for a scone, her piercing gaze turning to her daughter. "Anne, your health is delicate. Such responsibilities would be entirely too taxing."

"I appreciate your concern," Anne replied, her voice firm but calm. "But I've been feeling much better of late, thanks to certain remedies. I believe I am ready to take on more of the responsibilities that come with being mistress of Rosings."

Mr. Collins, who had been nodding vigorously at every word Lady Catherine uttered, immediately leaned forward. "Indeed, Lady Catherine is most astute in her observations, Miss de Bourgh. Managing an estate of such grandeur requires a constitution of steel. One cannot expect—"

Anne cut him off, her voice as sharp as it was unexpected. "Mr. Collins, with all due respect, I am the mistress of Rosings. These are my responsibilities, whether or not I've exercised them fully in the past."

Lady Catherine's expression darkened. "And what, pray, do you propose to do, Anne? Review the accounts? Oversee the tenants? You wouldn't know where to begin. For instance, there is a tenant—a Mr. Bendrick—who has not paid his rent in three months. What would you do about that?"

Darcy felt his chest tighten, his gaze snapping to Anne. He knew the Bendrick family's plight all too well. Violet's daily antics and little Thomas's illness had given him a clear view of their struggles. He had long suspected Lady Catherine's disdain for the family, but hearing her weaponize their hardship was still a blow.

Anne didn't falter. Her expression remained composed as she addressed her mother. "I would first understand why Mr. Bendrick has been unable to pay his rent. If there are circumstances beyond his control, such as illness or misfortune, I would look for a solution that ensures both the family's well-being and the estate's stability. Perhaps a temporary arrangement could be made until they are back on their feet."

Lady Catherine's scoff was audible. "Nonsense! Tenants must meet their obligations, Anne. If we allow one family to shirk their rent, others will follow suit. Discipline must be maintained."

"Discipline without compassion leads to rebellion," Anne countered quietly but firmly. "Rosings cannot prosper if its tenants resent their treatment."

Mr. Collins gasped. "Miss de Bourgh, surely you cannot mean to question Lady Catherine's approach. Her wisdom—"

"Is well-documented," Mrs. Collins interrupted, her voice soft but deliberate. All eyes turned to her as she continued, her gaze fixed on Anne. "But I think Miss de Bourgh raises an excellent point. Understanding the circumstances of one's tenants can prevent greater issues down the line. It fosters loyalty and trust."

Lady Catherine turned on her companion, her tone cutting. "Mrs. Collins, I do not recall asking for your opinion."

Mrs. Collins offered a polite smile, her composure unwavering. "Of course, your ladyship. I only meant to say that Miss de Bourgh's perspective is worth considering."

Anne straightened in her seat, her confidence bolstered by the unexpected support. "Thank you, Mrs. Collins. And Mother, I intend to begin reviewing the accounts tomorrow. If there are tenants in need of intervention, I will handle it."

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing further, the weight of the moment leaving even her at a temporary loss for words.

Darcy exchanged a glance with Fitzwilliam, both men suppressing their smiles. Fitzwilliam gave Anne a subtle nod of approval, while Darcy felt a surge of pride for his cousin.

Anne's agency was beginning to shine through.

The morning sunlight poured into the breakfast room at Rosings, casting long shadows on the polished table and its gleaming silverware. Darcy was already seated, his movements deliberate as he spread marmalade onto his toast. Fitzwilliam lounged in his chair, sipping tea with an air of feigned nonchalance, though his eyes glinted with anticipation. Anne sat at the far end, her posture straight and her expression composed, though Darcy noted the slight clench of her hands in her lap.

Lady Catherine swept into the room as she always did, with all the grandeur of a queen entering her court. "Good morning," she declared, her voice carrying authority that brooked no dissent. "I trust you are all prepared for another productive day. Anne, my dear, you should—"

"Mother," Anne interrupted, her tone polite but firm. "I would like to review the estate's accounts with you today after breakfast."

Lady Catherine froze mid-stride, her eyes narrowing as she processed the statement. "Review the accounts? What an odd suggestion. You've never expressed an interest in such matters before."

Anne met her mother's gaze, her calm resolve unshaken. "As mistress of Rosings, it is my duty to ensure the estate's prosperity. It's high time I involved myself more directly."

Darcy hid a smirk behind his teacup, watching the exchange with growing interest. Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by Anne's boldness.

"Nonsense," Lady Catherine snapped, seating herself at the head of the table with a flourish. "You haven't the constitution for such tedious work. Leave it to me. I've been managing Rosings perfectly well all these years."

Anne's chin lifted slightly, her voice steady. "And yet, Mother, I am the mistress of Rosings, not you. It's my responsibility to learn."

Lady Catherine's scoff was audible, her eyes narrowing. "And what do you know of estate management, Anne? You've never lifted a finger to assist. I can't imagine you'd even know where to begin."

Before Anne could reply, a loud crash shattered the tension. All eyes turned to see a servant, pale and trembling, scrambling to gather the shards of a broken tea tray from the floor.

Lady Catherine's face darkened with fury. "What is the meaning of this? Have you no sense of decorum? How dare you—"

"Mother," Anne said sharply, her voice cutting through Lady Catherine's tirade. "That is enough."

Lady Catherine turned to her daughter, her shock evident. "Anne! You would chastise me for correcting a servant's mistake?"

Anne's gaze didn't waver. "I would remind you that I am the mistress of this house, and it is not our place to humiliate those who serve us. Accidents happen, and they should be addressed with dignity."

The servant stilled, his wide eyes darting between Lady Catherine and Anne. Darcy watched, his admiration for Anne growing as she maintained her composure.

Lady Catherine's indignation boiled over. "This is absurd! You have no authority to contradict me, Anne."

"I have every authority," Anne replied firmly. "And I intend to use it."

Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair, his tone deliberately light. "It's rather refreshing, isn't it, Aunt? To see Anne taking charge of her role. Quite fitting, I'd say."

Lady Catherine shot him a glare but turned her attention back to Anne. "And what, pray, will you do next? Declare yourself the head of Rosings? Or perhaps you'll take leave of your senses entirely and refuse the match I've so carefully planned for you with Darcy?"

Darcy stiffened, his jaw tightening. "Aunt," he said coldly, "I've told you before, that match will never happen. Anne and I are in agreement on this."

Lady Catherine waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. It's the perfect solution for both estates. Pemberley and Rosings united under one family—"

"Mother," Anne interrupted again, her tone steely. "That plan was dismissed long ago. Neither Fitzwilliam nor I desire such a union, and your continued insistence only undermines us both."

Lady Catherine looked as though she might explode, her face reddening. "You ungrateful child. After all I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"

Anne remained calm, her voice unwavering. "Gratitude does not mean blind obedience. I love Rosings, and I love you, Mother. But I will not allow you to dictate my life any longer."

The room fell into stunned silence. Lady Catherine's mouth opened and closed, her indignation rendering her momentarily speechless.

Darcy took the opportunity to speak, his voice measured. "Anne is right, Aunt. Today is the perfect day for her to assert her role. And as her cousins, Fitzwilliam and I will ensure she has the support she needs."

Fitzwilliam gave a mock salute. "Hear, hear. Anne's the mistress, after all."

Lady Catherine's lips thinned, but she seemed to realize she had been outmaneuvered. With a huff, she stood and marched from the room, her dignity bruised but intact.

Anne exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing as she looked to Darcy and Fitzwilliam. "Thank you," she said softly.

Darcy inclined his head, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "You didn't need our help, Anne. You handled it perfectly."

The tension in the room eased as Anne's composure returned, her expression softening into a thoughtful smile. The faint ticking of the mantle clock filled the silence, underscoring the weight of the moment. Darcy leaned back slightly in his chair, his mind already calculating the day's next steps.

"I must leave soon to rescue Violet," Darcy said, his voice steady but edged with purpose.

Fitzwilliam grinned, his easy humor returning. "Always the gallant hero, cousin. Shall I come along and assist?"

Darcy shook his head. "I've managed so far on my own. Besides, I think your talents might be better served elsewhere."

Anne, who had been quietly considering her options, looked up. "Richard, if you truly wish to help, I could use your insight with the estate books. Though, I admit, I'm not sure a soldier's perspective on numbers would be entirely conventional."

Fitzwilliam chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You're right to doubt me. My talents are far better suited to the battlefield than the accounting ledgers. But I can lend a hand if you like."

Anne tilted her head, weighing the idea. "No, I think I should go over them myself, at least at first. This is something I need to grasp fully, and there's much I must absorb." Her tone softened as she continued, "To be honest, I somewhat hope we can relive this day a few more times—it would give me the time I need to learn everything."

Darcy's gaze shifted to Anne, his usual seriousness giving way to a rare flicker of warmth. "You'll manage, Anne. Your determination is evident."

Anne gave a small, rueful smile. "Jokes aside, I'll miss you two when you leave. As much as I loathe the thought of this day repeating endlessly, it's provided a strange kind of comfort. Familiarity, even."

Fitzwilliam smirked. "Let's not get too sentimental, Anne. We'll be here long enough for you to grow sick of us, I assure you."

Anne's smile widened, but she turned her focus back to the books. "For now, Darcy, you'll rescue Violet. Richard, you could find Miss Bennet and accompany her on her walk. I imagine she might appreciate the company."

Fitzwilliam nodded, his expression briefly serious. "I'll do my best not to misstep, though with Miss Bennet, that's always a risk."

"And I'll join you after," Darcy said firmly. "I'll walk her back to the parsonage, and then the two of us will meet here to assist Anne before tea."

Anne looked up at her cousins, a flicker of gratitude in her gaze. "Thank you. Both of you. This feels... possible now."

Darcy stood, straightening his coat. "It is. And we'll make it so."

As Fitzwilliam stretched and made a teasing remark about Darcy's noble determination, Anne opened the ledger before her, her brow furrowing slightly with focus. Darcy left the room, purpose in his stride, already turning his thoughts to Violet and the peculiar rhythms of this strange, repetitive day.

So thoughts on focusing on Anne for a change? Do you like her growth?