Elizabeth refused to dwell on the reasons why this should please her. His return was demonstrably unconnected to her, and his eventual departure would be equally independent of her inclinations. Once he arrived, his company would not be earmarked for her. She would, in all likelihood, see very little of him except for a few hours at Mr Bingley’s feast. Better that she not attempt to account for it and only enjoy the sensation of being puzzlingly, delightfully, divertingly happy.
13
Anight in his own bed meant Darcy was far better refreshed on Sunday morning, despite the hours he had lain awake furiously making plans for his suddenly vastly different future. Heoughtto be tired, for he was not convinced he had been asleep even when he dreamt, but fatigue could not trouble him. A potent medley of boyish excitement and exceedinglyunchildlike yearning coursed through his veins, igniting his spirits, urging him up, out of bed, and back to Hertfordshire.
He could scarcely wait until Monday to return. Already he had spent too many months battling with his reprehensible pride; too many miles travelling to visit, rescue, or cart his various relations about the country; and altogether too many years dancing to duty’s tune. He would waste no more time. His trip to Kent had taught him a simple truth: there was no good reason not to marry Elizabeth. He owed his family nothing, and if those in his sphere could stomach Lady Catherine, then they could sure as the devil learn to tolerate Elizabeth, a woman ten times his aunt’s worth. He could—hewould—marry her. Understanding it had rendered him as close to giddy as anyone so naturally disposed to seriousness could get.
First, however, he must deal with Anne. For all his jubilant reflections, Darcy remained deeply troubled by what passed at Rosings. His aunt had always been difficult and was renowned for her imperious manner. Yet superiority was not the same as meanness, and never before yesterday had he thought her capable of outright cruelty.
Grief ought to be her excuse, except that Anne had not seemed surprised by the outburst. Darcy had grappled endlessly with his recollections of the encounter, attempting to discern whether he had misremembered what was said or misconstrued how it was received, but the effort had been fruitless. He had known the moment Anne agreed to come with him that it was not the first time she had been thus abused.
She had said very little in the carriage back to London, constrained by distress and the presence of her ineradicable companion. He knew not what she wished to happen next or what solution he ought to offer, but despite being still excessively angry with her, he would not abandon Anne to a repeat of Lady Catherine’s derision. Thus, he awaited her in his library that morning, unsure what he meant to say but assured of a very different conversation than he had intended to have four-and-twenty hours ago.
At length, his cousin arrived and sat down opposite him without a word. He called for tea, which they awaited in silence. It arrived, and in silence they both took one sip, then set their cups aside to go cold.
“She is worse than Mrs Bennet, is she not?”
Darcy choked out a surprised laugh. “She certainly was yesterday. But be truthful. Is she always like that?”
Anne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She has grown more so, the longer you have procrastinated.”
“The longer I have?—”
She interrupted him with an exasperated huff. “Why did you have to tell her we were in Hertfordshire?”
“Come, Anne. She would have found out one way or another. And it was unreasonable to expect Mr Collins and Mrs Jenkinson to lie for you.”
She made a noise of disgust. “You are always so incorrigiblyhonest.It is prodigiously tiresome.”
Darcy wished he deserved her censure, but there were too many things he had been required to keep secret of late. He left her remark unchallenged, and the silence between them stretched long, until Anne shifted in her seat and fixed him with an expression that might have been defiance or apprehension.
“I have had something of an epiphany.” She took a quick breath and tilted her chin. “I have decided I no longer wish to marry you.”
Darcy held himself still. Many cogs whirred in his mind, all of them misaligning, none of them churning out a sensible interpretation of her statement. “I am afraid I do not take your meaning.”
“I am not sure how else I might express myself to better convey it. It is not very complicated.”
Indeed, it did not appear so. It also did not appear to make an iota of sense. “Youno longerwish to marry me?”
“Do not pretend to be upset about it.”
“I beg your pardon, Anne. I am not upset, but Iamperplexed.I was not aware that youeverwishedto marry me.”
For the longest moment, she did nothing but stare at him. Then his cousin did something that reminded him so thoroughly of Elizabeth, it knocked the wind from him. She laughed. Indeed, she laughed so hard and for so long, he began to worry for her lucidity.
“Oh, I am sorry, Darcy. You will have to forgive me. Only, what an absolute joke!”
“Is it?” he replied, struggling to maintain a calm tone.
She made an observable effort to be serious, which had the effect of giving her laughter an edge of hysteria. “Answer me this. Have youevertaken seriously the pact our mothers made to unite our houses with an alliance between us?”
It was Darcy’s turn to stare, only he did not laugh. Indeed, it was one of the least amusing remarks he had ever heard, for a multitude of reasons, none of them good. “I take it you have.”
“Me, my mother, half theton, thewholeof Kent.”
In the name of all that was holy! Thewhole of Kentbelieved that the fanciful whim of two sisters, conceived in the first flushes of motherhood almost thirty years ago, still held true? How was such a staggeringly stupid thing possible? How onearthhad something so ridiculous, so entirely improbable, have remainedsosignificant in the eyes ofsomany people forsomany yearswithout his knowing?
“I had no idea,” he said through gritted teeth.
