Reunited at Rosings (Sweet Standalone Pride and Prejudice Variations #5)

Chapter 1

October 2, 1812: After Mr Darcy brought about the marriage between Lydia and Mr Wickham, but before he could journey to Hertfordshire…

Seated near the fire in the drawing room of Rosings Park, Anne de Bourgh shivered and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Adjusting her spectacles on the bridge of her nose, she tried to remember what her mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had been saying.

“It is a disgrace, I tell you. A stain on the name of Darcy!”

Anne sighed, as she so often did, but kept her peace. She glanced at Mrs Jennings, who had also chosen to hold her tongue. After all, Mrs Jennings had long years of practice at keeping her opinions to herself. Anne sometimes felt for the woman. She had been her governess when she was a young girl and had stayed on as her companion when it became clear Anne would not be marrying soon, if ever. While her mother remained convinced that her cousin Darcy would marry her one day, Anne neither expected nor hoped for a proposal from him.

Anne looked around at the handsomely furnished drawing room. It was large, almost cavernous in its grandness. Surrounded by all the lavish tapestries, oil paintings, and gilded mirrors, she could not help but feel rather out of place. Dressed in mourning black, she must look like little more than a blemish on the surroundings. And though her mother said little, since it was for her father that she donned black, she could feel the disappointment emanating from her mother’s eyes. Long past time to have given over mourning Sir Charles, in Lady Catherine’s view.

Sickly. Infirm. Slow. Those were the labels that her mother had given her over the years, often blaming Anne’s physical maladies on her lack of wherewithal. Lady Catherine seemed to think that if she had somehow been stronger of mind or will, she would have been stronger in body, too. After a bout with scarlet fever when she was a girl, Anne was thankful to be alive, even if her weakened body made it difficult to breathe sometimes or walk long distances.

Anne’s attention was called suddenly back when her mother screeched in displeasure. “I will not stand for it!”

Mrs Jennings was obviously taken aback as well, for she nearly spilled her tea. The older woman put her teacup and saucer down on the small side table and tried to look concerned. “Of what do you speak, my lady?”

“That insufferable Elizabeth Bennet! She has her hooks in my nephew, and plans to steal away Anne’s birthright.”

“Pemberley is not my birthright, Mama. It never was,” Anne said timidly, barely above a whisper.

Her mother gave her a look that reminded Anne of a hawk eyeing its prey. “This match has been planned since you both were but babes. It is ignoble that he would consider breaking your engagement now.” She huffed. “That girl has a great deal of cheek, trying to swoop in and steal away his affections when you are her superior in birth and fortune! My sister and I planned that the bonds of marriage would ever unite our families. With two such successful estates, well, can you think of the influence Darcy would have? He might even aspire to be awarded a barony. Or an earldom. Your children and grandchildren would carry the status that your fathers passed down to you.”

Anne sighed again. She did not care for all the symbols of status, and as for money, they had more than enough already. What good was any of it when she was barely allowed outside her own home? Her mother’s constant worry over Anne’s health had made her a veritable prisoner. She shifted on the settee, uncomfortable in her mother’s elaborate domain. For as long as she could remember, she had been afraid to touch things in this grand old draughty house. She held her hands tighter in her lap and tried not to move overly much, to avoid drawing her mother’s displeasure. “Darcy does not want me, Mother.”

“It is not a matter of want!” She almost spat the words. “I have heard the rumours. Elizabeth Bennet means to usurp your position, Anne. I would think you would be more concerned about this.”

Anne opened her mouth, but her mother did not give her a chance to respond.

“She is not refined or well-connected enough to deserve my nephew. What kind of wife could she make?” Lady Catherine let out a frustrated sigh. “And what I hear of her family — a rabble-rousing lot with not an ounce of education or good breeding. I shall not even repeat to you what I have heard about her sister’s behaviour. Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”

“It is no use worrying about it, Mother. If Darcy has made up his mind to offer for Elizabeth Bennet’s hand, then nothing we may say will change his present course,” Anne replied.

Anne cringed as her mother flew into another discourse on loose women and the danger of allowing one’s offspring to choose their own mates. As Anne had heard it all before, she only pretended to listen. From time to time, she interjected with a small comment, but it was no use. Try as she and Mrs Jennings might, Lady Catherine would not be calmed or consoled.

When her mother ran out of invective and at last fell silent, she stood and started toward the hearth. She reached for the silver bell and rang it with as much force as the old lady could muster. The shrill noise pierced Anne’s ears. She stood as well, joining her at the hearth, though she kept a little distance. “What is it, Mother? If you require anything, I can go —”

“I require a carriage,” her mother snapped. She levelled her piercing gaze at Anne and scowled. “It seems you are not worried about your future, and so I shall go to secure it for you.”

Anne gasped. “Mama, what can you mean?”

Her mother strode toward the door, opened it, and peered down the hall. Anne felt for the footman who would come to answer the summons, for he would receive the brunt of her mother’s displeasure.

Her mother turned on her. “I ride for Longbourn, to ensure that chit does not dig her claws into Darcy any further.”

Anne stilled, her eyes wide. “Mother, you cannot.”

“I can, and I shall,” Lady Catherine retorted. By that time, the unfortunate footman had arrived. After being chastised for taking too long to answer his lady’s summons, he was ordered to ready the carriage.

Anne knew there was no use arguing with her mother’s whims. Once she set her mind to something, no matter how fruitless or condescending, she could not be persuaded to the right or the left. Privately, Anne thought of how futile her mission was. If Darcy was in love with Elizabeth Bennet, which Anne strongly suspected to be the case, her mother’s actions would be more likely to push them into each other’s arms. As soon as her cousin heard of it, he would be more likely than ever to propose to her.

“Mother, it is late. Why do you not wait until the morning?” Anne suggested. “It will be a terribly uncomfortable journey for you.”

“Do not try to dissuade me.” Her mother waved her off as she marched out of the room and headed to the second story, where her lavish bedchamber was situated. Of course, she and Mrs Jennings were expected to follow.

“I have never seen such impertinence. In my day, people knew their station and did not try to rise above it —” Anne’s mother continued to rant in between ordering the servants to make everything ready for her journey. Anne stood to the side in her mother’s opulent rooms. She felt the walls closing in on her, as if the slightest breath would cause a disturbance among the careful elegance. “If you were not so weak, Anne, I would expect you to go with me. People in our position of privilege must remind those in the lower stations of their place. They are always forgetting, it seems. Think of the terrible revolution that took Marie Antoinette’s life!”

Anne wanted to point out that Darcy’s marriage to Miss Bennet would hardly set in motion the events that would be required to bring the guillotine to English shores. It was useless to say such things to her mother when she was in a rage, so she kept her peace.

A light rain was falling by the time all was finally ready. The sun would disappear in a matter of hours, and her mother would be travelling alone to Longbourn. She would not arrive until dark, far too late for visiting, and would have to spend the night in an inn. And there would be nothing Anne could do to stop her from bringing shame upon the family. Her mother did not seem to spare a thought for Darcy’s reaction. If he was in love with the young woman, he would not take kindly to any interference.

Anne resolved to try one last time as she followed Lady Catherine down the steps toward the waiting carriage. “Mother, please —”

As her mother was about to climb into the carriage, she suddenly stopped. Relief flooded Anne. Perhaps she had finally seen sense and was rethinking her foolish plan.

Anne’s relief was short-lived. In the next instant, her mother turned to the side, in halting movements. She clutched at her heart, her mouth hanging open at an unnatural angle.

“Mother?” Anne cried out. But her mother could not speak. She sank to the ground and began weakly waving at Anne for aid. “Mother!”

Anne rushed to her side and looked to Mrs Jennings. “Help her,” Anne pleaded. She cradled her mother’s head in her lap to keep her from hitting it on the hard stone steps. Her mother’s mouth worked as though she was trying to form words, but no sound issued from her mouth. “Mother, do not leave me,” she pleaded. Though her mother was difficult at times, she did not know if she could bear up under losing her. Not like this.

“She has had a spell,” Mrs Jennings breathed. “I was afraid of this.” She turned and ordered a footman to send for the doctor. Mrs Jennings knelt beside Anne, placing a hand on her shoulder. “My lady? Can you hear me?”

Lady Catherine nodded, but seemed unable to speak. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to clutch at her chest. Her tears mixed with the raindrops that fell on her slack, stricken face.

The sight of her mother awash in tears and raindrops gave Anne a courage she had never felt before. She transferred her mother’s head to Mrs Jennings, then stood. “Get the rest of the footmen to help us carry my mother inside,” she said, her voice carefully even and far louder than her usual mousy tone. The butler stood aghast, then straightened as he went to do her bidding. She turned to the housekeeper. “Please see that my mother’s room is warm and alert her lady’s maid that the bed should be made ready.”

A flurry of activity surrounded them as her mother was carried inside, changed from her travel ensemble, and put to bed. “I — I — I can’t —” Lady Catherine was trying to say.

Anne stepped forward and took her mother’s hand. It was ice cold. “What is it, Mother? I’m here.”

“I — I — I —” Her jaw slackened, and she closed her eyes.

Mrs Jennings came to Anne’s side. “She needs rest.”

“Where is the doctor?” Anne asked, her voice still calm and collected. It was a shock to her, as it must have been to the servants. Her voice sounded foreign, even in her own ears. “He must be on his way by now.”

“He will be here as soon as he can be, I am certain, Miss de Bourgh,” Mrs Jennings said softly. After a brief pause, Mrs Jennings drew her away from the bed. “I must commend you on your quick action this evening. I confess I was too shocked to move for a moment after Lady Catherine fell.”

Anne nodded. “As was I,” she admitted. Now that the initial excitement was over, she felt her hands beginning to shake. She folded them in front of her and tried to conceal her fear. She had never seen her mother in such a vulnerable position, unable to give orders or see that they were carried out.

“It will be difficult, I am sure, with all the decisions that Lady Catherine usually makes. There is much to be done in an estate like Rosings.”

Anne gulped. Unfortunately, her mother had never entrusted her with learning how to run the Rosings household, still less all that must be done for the estate. With her father’s passing, her mother had taken over the day-to-day running of the estate, accepting only the most minimal assistance from the steward. Anne was unsure if she would have what it took to run things until her mother was sufficiently recovered, even if only for a few days.

“It is a problem to be considered,” Anne said. At that moment, a knock sounded, and her mother’s maid came in, revealing the doctor behind her. “I must see to Mama, now.”

Anne stood aside as the doctor conducted his examination. He placed the stethoscope on her mother’s chest, listening grimly to her heart.

After his examination, he straightened and shook his head. “My guess is she had a spell of apoplexy. She needs rest — no excitement — so her heart can recover,” he whispered. “She needs to stay abed for at least a month, if not more. I do not know if she will walk again. Lady Catherine’s recovery will be slow, and it is essential that you prevent her from exerting herself.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Doctor Miles. Is there any medicine we should administer?”

“I will give you a calming draught for her, but there is nothing I know of that can cure this kind of spell, save rest. Your mother is getting on in years,” he said. “It is my opinion that she has taken on too much for her. A woman was not meant to run a household as large as this alone. She needs to allow someone else to help her until she is better. Even then, it would be better for her not to exert herself so severely.”

Anne thanked him again, and he promised to return the next day to see how Lady Catherine fared. Her mother beseeched her with a look and waved her hand weakly to summon her to the bedside. Mrs Jennings stood a few paces off, trying to give them a semblance of privacy.

Her mother swallowed, then tried to speak. “You must write to Darcy —” she said hoarsely. She stopped, closed her eyes, and swallowed again with a wince.

Anne sat down on the edge of the bed and took her mother’s hand, brushing her white locks from her face. “Do not speak. You must rest, Mother.”

“No, I have to —” she said haltingly. “Write to him and ask him to come at once. To help you. With the estate —”

Anne sat up, hesitant. It was true she would need someone to help her with the demands of running the estate while her mother was incapacitated. But was this simply another means of getting him away from Elizabeth Bennet? It seemed all too likely.

Yet there was nothing else to be done. Darcy was the obvious choice. After his years of running Pemberley alone, he could help her as no one else could. Reluctantly, Anne agreed. “I shall write to him.”

A triumphant twinkle flashed through her mother’s eyes. “Good,” she said, and closed her eyes for a moment to rest before continuing with her orders. “And not tomorrow. Tonight.”

Anne frowned. She wanted to argue that it would do no good, but she could not bear to upset her. The risk to her mother’s health was simply too great. “Yes, Mother. I will go as soon as you are settled and resting.”

Her mother nodded and relaxed against the mound of pillows behind her back. Once her mother’s breathing steadied, she charged her maid with watching over her and left the room to write the letter. She hated to interfere with her cousin’s plans, but Anne knew she must respect her mother’s wishes. Despite how she wished she could take charge on her own, attempting it would be folly. Whether or not Lady Catherine had intended the suggestion to further her own ends, Darcy’s help would be essential.