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

Chapter 11

Fitzwilliam popped a tiny tea cake into his mouth and swallowed it in one bite. It was a fine thing to be with family for Christmas. Though Matlock was too far from his regiment for a Christmas visit, his cousins made a very suitable substitute. It was a pity he would have to rejoin his regiment soon. But as the second son, he must find his own way in life, and thus his decision to join the armed forces.

His life had not turned out too poorly. Still, he wished sometimes that he would have been able to afford to take a wife sooner in life. At two and thirty, he was nearing old age. Or so it seemed.

His cousin Anne glanced at him, looking nervous. She set down her teacup and stood, coming over to him where he lounged on the settee. “Fitzwilliam? Would you mind if I had a word?” she asked. Her voice quaked ever so slightly, and he wondered if he had somehow offended her.

“Of course, cousin. I am at your service, as always.”

“Shall we go out to the garden?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam was surprised by the suggestion, but not unwilling. “There is a chill in the air. Should you not have your maid fetch a cloak and gloves, perhaps a fur wrap?”

“I am not so frail now, Colonel,” she laughed. “A cloak and gloves will be quite sufficient.”

Indeed, she hardly seemed frail at all any longer. He hated to think such thoughts, but Lady Catherine’s malady had been a blessing in disguise where Anne was concerned. It had given her daughter the excuse she needed to come out of the shadows and into the land of the living. Fitzwilliam had grown up with Anne, and yet, he had never noticed what a beauty she was until this visit. Another reason to be sad that Christmas was nearly over.

A few minutes later, Anne’s maid returned with a cloak and gloves for her mistress and helped her don the things. “Girls, will you be all right if we step out for a brief moment? I am sure Mr Darcy and Miss Bennet will return shortly.”

Georgiana and Miss Lucas glanced at them from the pianoforte, where they had planted themselves since coming in. “Oh, to be sure,” Georgiana replied. “A splendid idea, to take some air before the weather turns.”

“Is it turning for the worst?” Miss Lucas asked. “Perhaps we should go along?”

“No, it is not turning yet,” Georgiana replied. “I only meant that it is bound to soon. It is winter, after all.”

“We will not be long,” Fitzwilliam said, thankful that his young cousin seemed content to stay inside and play the fine instrument that had been a wedding present from Anne’s father. He offered Anne his arm and was pleased when she took it.

Once outside, she gave a contented sigh. “I must confess, I would not mind if the weather had turned. I do so wish to walk about in the snow just once.” She stopped, looking up at him as if appalled by her own words. “I suppose it is not ladylike to wish such a thing.”

“I do not think so. Have you never walked about in the snow?” Fitzwilliam asked.

“No. Mama always said it was dangerous for my health.” She looked around the garden for a moment. “I sometimes wonder if I’ve wasted my whole life. I hate to say it, Fitzwilliam, but I fear my mother has kept me inside all my life when there was no need for such caution.”

Fitzwilliam had wondered about that of late as well. But it would be unkind of him to say so. “You are young, cousin. I do not see why you could not lead a full and long life with someone you care about.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he stopped short, feeling the heat rise in his face. There had been no reason to say the last part. He could not imagine why he had done so.

Anne seemed to hesitate. “I hope so,” she said softly. From the way she said it, he guessed she had little hope of ever marrying.

He cleared his throat. “What was it you wished to speak to me about, cousin? Is there something you needed help with on the estate?”

Anne faltered. “Oh, no, it is nothing like that.” She cleared her throat as well, obviously nervous. “I —” She stopped on the path just before going into the woods. “I have a proposition to discuss. A plan, that is,” she corrected.

She clasped her hands in front of her. “As you know, I am heir to Rosings and all my father’s property, since my parents did not have a son.”

“And this troubles you?” he pressed.

Anne looked on the edge of tears — or being sick. He stepped forward and touched her elbow gently. “My dear cousin, you know that I have pledged to help you in any way I can. Please, unburden yourself.”

Against her pale skin, her eyes shone a lovely, rich brown. He would have liked to say something witty, to charm her like the ladies he met at dances and public assemblies and hear her laugh —

But no, he could not allow such thoughts. Anne had always been meant for her cousin — her other cousin, the master of Pemberley. A mere soldier would be quite a step down. He let his hand fall to his side. “How may I be of service?”

She took a steadying breath, then let it out. “I will not keep you in suspense, Colonel. What I propose is marriage — a marriage of convenience between us.”

He blinked, certain he had misheard her.

“I know it is bold of me, and I do not claim that you could be interested in me in that way whatsoever,” she hurried on. “What I propose will be of mutual benefit to us both. As I said, I do not hold myself in such high regard as to hope you might have any feeling for me other than familial duty and loyalty. However, as I also said before, I am heir to Rosings and all of my father’s wealth. And I would have your protection and guidance in running the estate. You would no longer have to worry about making your way in the world, not that I imagine that is any great incentive to you. You are too honourable —” Her voice broke. “I will not speak of love, Fitzwilliam, but —”

She stopped speaking altogether, looking up at him with eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. Her eyes darted from side to side as if they could not choose which of his to focus on. “What say you?” she asked, her voice as breathy as though she had run a long way.

He let out a brief sigh and stepped forward, taking her hand once more. “My dear cousin —”

∞∞∞

It was as she had feared. It had been foolish to propose marriage to a man, even more foolish to do so with a man so far above her in charm and social graces. What was she to him? Only an awkward cousin who had no knowledge or experience of the world outside of Rosings. True, she was an heiress who could give him wealth and a home, but that was all she could offer him. Her homely appearance must be a great deterrent for any man, especially one as handsome as Colonel Fitzwilliam. She wished the earth would swallow her, as she knew he was about to let her down as gently as he could. Perhaps it would be best if she turned and fled. Perhaps he would be kind to her, as he always was, and forget that this had ever happened.

“Forgive me —”

“Please, do not go,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. He grasped her hand tighter, something she had not expected. He took a moment, looking at the ground as if he did not know what to say or how to phrase things so she would not be crushed. “I am honoured that you would come to me with such a monumental proposal, Anne. We are family, but we have also been friends for most of our lives.”

Anne prepared herself for her worst fear. As she had been mulling over what to say and how to present herself to Colonel Fitzwilliam, she had known it would be unlikely he would accept her offer. What man wanted to have an ugly wife, even with all the thousands of pounds she would have every year? Well, honourable men, that is. She was sure there were dishonourable men who would take her and then cast her aside like an old boot, regretting the bargain they had made.

“I understand,” she said, backing away. “Fitzwilliam, I did not mean to offend you. I only meant —”

“No, please, hear me out, Anne,” he pleaded. His eyes were so fierce and yet so gentle that she could not have moved even if she wanted to. “I have a counter-proposal for you.”

She was unsure if she had heard right for a moment. “A counter-proposal? What exactly does that entail?” she asked.

“There is no need for us to marry so that I will protect you or to help you with Rosings. I give you my word: I will never cease to be here for whatever you might need.”

Anne hung her head. She had feared this. The pain of his rejection was almost more than she could bear. She could not respond for the lump that had formed in her throat and the tears stinging her eyes. Anne simply nodded for him to go on.

“As to marriage, I do not simply want a marriage of practicality. I could never subject a woman to that kind of life, although it is true that a couple can grow in affection for one another in time, and perhaps even love. But I would want a marriage between us to be a true marriage — not only one in name. My greatest desire would be to see a trusting love grow over time out of mutual affection and respect. I would not want you to settle for me because I am the only man you think is available.”

Anne was utterly bowled over by his words. “Only man available?” she asked.

“Yes. Anne, I know that I have nothing to offer you. I am a lowly soldier, unlike my eldest brother —”

“Who is already married,” Anne interrupted, forgetting herself.

The Colonel chuckled. “Yes, that he is. But that is beside the point, really. What I am trying to say is this: you should only accept a suitor who would truly make you happy. You have everything a man could dream of. You are strong and healthy, despite your mother’s attempts to convince you otherwise. You are doing wonderfully well with running the estate. And it is true, you will someday possess a substantial fortune, this house, and more besides. The man you should marry ought to bring you joy. He ought to want you for everything that you are.”

She still said nothing, too shocked to form words.

He went on. “I would only propose if I thought I could be that man. I would want you for your incredible mind, your compassionate heart, and, I hope I might add, without causing offence, your lovely person.” Fitzwilliam looked shy for a moment, as if he might have more to say.

But when the silence stretched on, coursing with tension, she let out a breath of relief. Never had anyone accused her of being lovely. She was almost afraid to believe the words had come out of his mouth. “You certainly could be that man,” she breathed. When she looked up into his eyes, happiness was radiating from them.

“Are you certain? You need not spare my feelings, Anne.”

“No. I would not say anything if it were not true,” Anne replied.

He grasped her hands tighter, then let them go and wrapped his arms around her waist. Taking off his hat, he kissed her cheek, then got down on one knee. “Very well then, Anne de Bourgh, I should like to ask if you would consider marrying this humble soldier with nothing much to offer,” he began. “Nothing but his never-ending devotion and love.”

Had she heard correctly? Did he love her? Her eyes must have asked the question, for he laughed and went on, squeezing her hand gently. “You have always been there, but I never knew just how much I was in love with you until now. Anne, would you do me the honour of accepting my hand?”

Anne nodded, since she could say nothing for several moments. He stood, held her close, and wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, I will,” she whispered, his face so close to hers that their noses were almost touching. His eyes travelled down from hers to study her lips, and she wondered if he would break with tradition and kiss her before their wedding day.

He leaned away and smiled down at her. “I am looking forward to finding out who Anne de Bourgh — or rather, as I may say soon — Anne Fitzwilliam, is once she is completely out of her mother’s shadow.”

“So am I,” she agreed. She rested her hands on his chest, looking up at the sky for a moment. “I did not know it was possible to be so supremely happy. I think I could die right now — at this moment — without regret.”

He kissed her cheek again. “Trust me, there is much more to come, my love,” he whispered.

Anne could not help the wave of disappointment that swamped her when he released her from his embrace. They began walking back to the house, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. All was as it should be with the world, but such perfect contentment could not last. Anne suddenly stopped on the path, realising what they had done. “Mama will be horrified that I am not to marry Darcy. She and my aunt planned if from the time we were children!”

“Yes, well, you have reached the age of majority. You do not need your mother’s consent.”

Anne let out a sigh of relief and they continued down the path. “That is true.” She bit her lower lip. “Even so, it might be better to keep our engagement a secret, just for a little while. If Mama heard and took a turn for the worst…”

She did not even want to finish the thought. Her mother being reduced to an invalid was bad enough. To imagine her being gone, well, it was unthinkable.

“I shall do whatever you think best, Anne. We will keep the engagement a secret for a little while. But rest assured, as soon as the banns can be read, you will be my wife.”