“True,” Richard admitted. “But I shall not be listening to her grievances, Darcy. Remember, we agreed that I am to court my cousin, and I shall be occupied in devising how that is to be managed. First, however, I must become acquainted with Cousin Anne. If I do not like her, I will not marry her, Darcy, and there will be an end to that scheme.”
Darcy laughed. “I wish I were more like you, Richard. You laugh at everything, and you let nothing weigh heavily enough to disturb your sleep.”
They rode on to the stables, and, as they walked back, they saw their carriage loaded with their trunks turning down the lane. Striding up the steps to the front entrance, they prepared to meet their hostess. After bathing and changing from their riding clothes, they waited upon Lady Catherine.
She was frowning. “You are both late. I detest being kept waiting.”
Darcy bowed. “My apologies, Aunt. We left London as early as possible.”
Richard bent gallantly and kissed her hand. “Dearest Aunt, you look remarkably well. Why do you languish in Kent, when all the pleasures of London society might be laid at your feet?”
Lady Catherine was flattered, though she only sniffed at her nephew. “Idle flummery. I have important matters here. There are defects in the chimneys. Also, Mrs. Collins has taken in two of her sisters. Country girls. Miss Elizabeth and Miss Catherine Bennet. I hope they do not presume upon my notice.”
Richard’s eyes flickered toward Darcy, who betrayed no expression. “I am sure they will behave with the utmost propriety,” Darcy said evenly.
“Propriety?” Lady Catherine scoffed. “Women of their station rarely possess good breeding. But I shall wait and form my opinion when I meet them.”
The two cousins poured themselves a drink and settled near the fire. Dinner was as expected, an excess of rich dishes. Lady Catherine kept a French chef, and sauces were her chief delight. Anne de Bourgh sat at her mother’s side, silent as always. Richard stole several glances at her during the meal and was struck by her delicate features. She was pale, yet pretty, with high cheekbones and a delicate heart-shaped face. Looking from daughter to mother, he noted they shared the same striking bone structure. Lady Catherine had been considered handsome in her youth, a diamond in her day, and Richard realized for the first time that his quiet cousin possessed a beauty of her own and might, in time, be judged handsome as well.
Yet Anne was too thin, and she scarcely ate. He wondered if she were truly ill, as her aunt always said, or if she disliked Frenchfare. She did not speak of her own accord once during the meal. Leaning toward her, he said softly, “Anne, I remember you as a child, trailing after us. And you used to play the pianoforte. Do you still?”
A faint blush touched her cheeks. “A little, cousin, but nothing worth hearing.”
Lady Catherine interjected at once. “Anne has a fine taste in music, but her health prevents her from practicing. If she did play, she would at least have the sense not to perform vulgar tunes, unlike some young women I could name.” She raised her brows with pointed significance before adding, “Cook informs me that the young ladies at the parsonage play and sing all day long, but she says their taste is not in the least refined.”
Darcy’s mouth twitched. Richard merely said, “I should be most happy to hear you play while I am here.”
Anne looked startled, then pleased. Lady Catherine beamed at the compliment as if she herself had been praised.
After dinner, when the gentlemen retired with their port, Richard leaned across the table. “Our cousin is shy, but she is sweet. I prefer quiet women to those who are brash. If only Aunt Catherine would stop speaking for her, she might reveal more of herself.”
Darcy nodded. “She is a woman of quality.”
Richard grinned. “And she has forty-five thousand pounds.”
Darcy groaned. “Trust you to reckon her dowry before her virtues.”
“Someone must,” Richard replied cheerfully. “Besides, if I am to endure Aunt Catherine’s company for three weeks, I must be allowed to console myself with mercenary calculations.”
“She has fine cheekbones, Richard. Oddly, we never remark upon Anne’s attractions. Perhaps Lady Catherine stands too much in the way,” Darcy sipped his wine in silence, but his thoughts turned from Anne. They were with a particular lady at Hunsford Parsonage, who would no doubt walk in the grove tomorrow morning.
Chapter 28: Hunsford Parsonage
Mr. Bingley entered his carriage and shut the door. The Bennets stood upon the road and waved as the newlyweds departed for London. The wedding guests dispersed, some on foot, others in their carriages. Mrs. Bennet embraced Mary and shook hands with Mr. Collins, who then handed up his wife into their hired carriage.
Mr. Bennet approached Elizabeth and embraced his second daughter with unusual solemnity. “Good-bye, my dear. Do not find a husband in Hunsford, Lizzy. I do not think I could bear to lose another daughter to matrimony in such quick succession.”
“You need not worry for me, Papa. I have not yet recovered from my disappointment and feel no inclination to look about me for another.”
“Sir Lawrence was very attentive to you, my dear, but happily, he does not reside in Kent, so I need not fear him yet.”
Elizabeth kissed her father, then allowed Mr. Collins to hand her into the carriage. She settled beside Kitty and opened her book.
Caroline Bingley remained behind with the Hursts, sulking over her brother’s marriage.
She protested, “I would not have attended the wedding, I am so angry with Charles, had you not insisted, Louisa. Yet at least it afforded me the opportunity of seeing Mr. Darcy again. He has not been at home the last three times I called upon Miss Darcy.”
Louisa raised her brows. “He is a man, Caroline, not an ornament. Charles says he boxes at Jackson’s Saloon and fences weekly. I daresay he has business as well.”
