Page 37 of Infamous Relations

Anne shushed him with a scandalised giggle. “I am truly sorry about Mrs. Jenkinson, though,” she said, when she sobered. “She did her best to be kind to me, despite Mother’s directives. Mr. Collins - well, I never liked him, but I am most grieved for Mrs. Collins. I must go to see her as soon as possible, assure her that she will not have to leave the Parsonage at all if she does not wish to.”

“I think that she will wish to, and likely as soon as possible,” Fitzwilliam said, making the snap decision to trust Anne with everything. She knew about the letter, after all, had been witness to Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine conspiring to use it against Darcy, and had been brave enough to defy her mother to thwart their plans.

Anne’s expression, when he finished, was pure horror. “Well, I never heard anything so terrible,” she said finally. “What wickedness! I did not care for the man, but to think that anyone, much less someone who purported to be a man of God, could act so…! It is almost beyond belief!” Her expression hardened. “His behaviour here, and that Mother sanctioned it… no, no she could not have known, could she? That, at least, is not a sin which can be placed at her door. I shall be grateful for small mercies.”

“I should return, Fitzwilliam said, “they will want to bring her up to the house.”

“Go,” Anne said. “I will go and find some black clothes, and prepare to play the suitably grieving daughter in public. I shall depend on your - and Darcy’s - advice in the days to come, though, cousin. Do not dare abandon me to the tender mercies of my De Bourgh cousins! They will have me married off to one of them in a trice in order to control Rosings, and I cannot imagine anything worse.”

“You will never have to marry anyone you do not want to, Anne. Darcy and I promised you that many years ago and nothing has changed now,” Fitzwilliam reassured her.

“I have no wish to marry at all, thank you. My health will never improve enough for me to be able to bear a child, and I have no intention of living out a marriage being constantly reproached for my inability to have an heir for Rosings.” Anne’s response was quite composed.

That stopped Fitzwilliam dead, even on his way to the door. He was so accustomed to thinking of Anne as the heiress to Rosings, that the question of who was next in line to inherit had never occurred to him. “Remaining unmarried will leave you open to potentially dangerous situations,” he warned. “There will always be the unscrupulous who will covet Rosings’ wealth, and you are of age to be married without your guardians’ consent.”

Anne’s smile was curiously secretive. “You are sweet to worry about me, cousin, but you need not. I have it all planned out. You shall see.”

Fitzwilliam arrived back at the scene of the accident a few minutes after Darcy, Trent and Mr. Gardiner, to find that everything was well in hand. The coachman was being examined by Dr. Trent, who pronounced him concussed but likely to recover in a few days. A groom led the surviving carriage horse slowly back up the lane to Rosings, and the three deceased had been laid carefully on the verge and covered with cloths.

“Presumably, we will need another parson to perform the necessary offices,” Mr. Gardiner said, making Fitzwilliam and Darcy start and look at each other, slightly alarmed.

“There must be someone in Sevenoaks,” Fitzwilliam said after a moment. “Might I suggest that you ask Bingley to go?” he suggested quietly to Darcy. “I don’t think that we necessarily want him to know everything that has happened here. The secret has spread too far already.”

Darcy nodded, looked at where Bingley was assisting the injured coachman to take a few unsteady steps. “You are quite correct. Such an errand will both give him something useful - nay, essential - to do, while getting him out of the way for a few hours. I will ask him directly.”

Clearly utterly bemused by the morning’s events, Bingley agreed with alacrity when offered the chance to be useful. Darcy and Fitzwilliam felt it incumbent on themselves to return with Lady Catherine’s body to Rosings; after only a brief debate it was decided that Mr. Collins should be taken there also, there being little space at the Parsonage. Bingley agreed to escort whatever clergyman he was able to find directly to Rosings and set off to collect his horse.

Mr. Gardiner elected to return to the Parsonage with Dr. Trent, for the time being. “Will you be returning to the Inn at Sevenoaks tonight?” he enquired of Darcy.

“We will have to stay at Rosings,” Darcy realised at once, “we cannot possibly leave our cousin Anne unsupported at this time.”

“Why do you not bring your belongings and stay at Rosings also?” Fitzwilliam suggested.

“I could not possibly intrude on the grief of the household at this time,” Mr. Gardiner said, shocked.

“Anne knows everything, Mr. Gardiner. Everything,” Fitzwilliam emphasised when Darcy turned to look at him. “In addition, she has suffered much over the years under Lady Catherine’s oppressive hand. Her primary emotion right now is relief, I believe.”

“Please,” Darcy added when Mr. Gardiner still looked undecided. “Our acquaintance is short, as yet, but already I respect you as a gentleman of great wisdom. Your close presence and influence at this trying time for both our families can only be of benefit.”

Gratified by such praise from a gentleman of such substance as Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Mr. Gardiner agreed to send his coach back to the Inn to collect his belongings, and to join Darcy and Fitzwilliam at Rosings later that day.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The calm presence of Mr. Gardiner at the Parsonage that afternoon provided some much needed steadiness. Fully apprised of the situation, he settled Mr. Bennet in the study to pen necessary letters to family and friends, sent Dr. Trent about his other duties, determined that Jane, Elizabeth and Charlotte were very ably taking care of each other, and decided that he himself would be of most use escorting Maria Lucas to church to pray for the souls of the departed.

Charlotte decided that she wished to rest, and Jane elected to escort her upstairs, leaving Elizabeth alone in the parlour, staring out of the window, hugging her arms around herself.

Two of the most terrible moments of my life have occurred in this room, she thought to herself. Two moments in which I most seriously misjudged two men; one fine man, to his detriment; and one man whom I trusted, to mine.

Leaning her brow against the window, she wished, silently but fervently, that she could turn time back a few days, try once again. If only… she sighed, watching her breath huff against the pane. If only I had not been so judgemental, so prejudiced, against Mr. Darcy! If only I had not spoken so harshly to him!

Elizabeth could admit to herself, now, that at least part of her harshness to him had been motivated by her pricked pride, but that a greater part had been caused simply by pure shock. Because she, who took such pride in her skills at making out the character of her acquaintances - she had not had the faintest idea that Mr. Darcy had ever looked at her other than to find fault. His passion had come as a complete surprise, and she, unable to comprehend it, had lashed out.

Movement in the front garden caused her eyes to lift, and she saw the object of her thoughts even then walking up the front path. Seeing her at the window, he halted in his brisk stride, staring at her.

For a long moment they stared at each other, and then he bowed slightly, though he did not take another step forward.

He awaits my invitation, Elizabeth realised. Slowly, she nodded, and Mr. Darcy proceeded to the front door.