“And Rosings Park is not?” he asked.
She gave a wry smile. “Mama is at Rosings.”
It was all she needed to say. He nodded and chuckled. “Well, I hope your stay will be a welcome respite. I did not mean to convey that you should not walk in the garden. How is your health as of late?”
“Oh, it is as it has always been. Mama thinks I am growing more frail by the day. However, being here has greatly improved my strength.”
They walked on for some moments in silence, enjoying the rustling of the bare branches as the wind moved through them, creating a kind of symphony all around them.
Looking up at him curiously, Anne spoke slowly, as though uncertain whether her words would be welcome. “I am much impressed with your wife. She seems able to hold her own against the tempest that is Mama.”
He smiled and nodded, looking down at his feet. “Yes, I have found her to be quite remarkable.”
“I agree. She is different from the other women who have tried to win your affection.” She hesitated. “I noticed that the first day we arrived. She was able to calm you when you might have lost your temper with Mama. She is good for you.”
Anne was disconcertingly perceptive, and disconcertingly willing to speak of what she saw. Darcy hardly knew what to say in response and therefore said little. They walked around the fountain nearest the terrace steps, and she let go of his arm there.
She looked at him, her face surprisingly serious. “Do not let her go, Darcy.”
Darcy was stunned silent for a moment. “Anne…” he said at last. “Anne, perhaps I should not ask, but I find I must. You are not disappointed that matters did not turn out as your mother wished? She has made no secret of her intention that you and I should wed.”
Anne gave him a crooked smile. “I should like to marry and leave Rosings, it is true, but I do not think you and I would suit. Though I might have been prepared to compromise on that point, I suppose, if it had come to it.” Her breath hitched, and she looked at her hands. “In the end, I am glad that it happened as it did. Mrs Darcy seems your perfect match in every way.” She gave him a smile, tight-lipped and unhappy, and turned to walk away.
Darcy did not follow her. It had never been his intention to hurt her, and yet he suspected that was exactly what he had done. “Thank you,” he said softly, too softly for his cousin to hear.
Chapter 14
Elizabeth gathered her skirts in one hand, slightly lifting her hem so that she might more easily descend the broad expanse of the staircase. It felt distinctly odd to be wearing her best gown in the middle of the day, but Lady Catherine had requested that she wear her finest dress for the next day’s lesson.
Elizabeth had considerable amusement in imagining what her ladyship had intended by it. Surely nothing complimentary. Perhaps Lady Catherine intended to play the lady’s maid and tell her she ought to wear her stays tighter, or perhaps she simply meant to criticise Elizabeth’s taste in gowns.
If the latter, Elizabeth thought ruefully, her ladyship would not be entirely wrong. The dress was well enough for a country gentleman’s daughter of limited means, but hardly suitable for the mistress of Pemberley. The riding habit now being made for her would be only the first of many new gowns she would need to be at all adequate to her new role.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Lady Catherine was nowhere to be seen when she entered the drawing room. Beside herself, the sole inhabitant of the room was a maid clearing away a tea tray.
Hearing her enter, the young woman turned and bowed respectfully. “Mrs Darcy, Lady Catherine requests that you attend her in the grand salon,” she said.
With a word of thanks and a nod of acknowledgement, Elizabeth turned and made her way there. Curious indeed. At the conclusion of their previous lesson, Lady Catherine had mentioned discussing the proper etiquette in being introduced to members of the nobility and the proper conversation to engage in when at the theatre. Why would they possibly go to the grand salon?
When she arrived, she was still more surprised to find that their lesson would not be only among ladies, for Mr Darcy was there, sitting in a sunlit corner and reading his newspaper. Lady Catherine was seated in a chair positioned in the centre of the dance floor like a throne, while her daughter was seated in a somewhat more modest chair at her side. The room seemed impossibly large without the press of bodies that would have attended a ball.
A little wistfully, Elizabeth wondered how long it had been since the Darcys had held a party. She suspected it had been far too long. Certainly not since the late Mr Darcy’s death, and possibly even longer than that.
But that was enough woolgathering. She turned to Lady Catherine with a determined smile. “I see we are to meet in a new place today, Lady Catherine. Have you something particular in mind? You had mentioned discussing the etiquette for social events.”
“I thought we could start out with the obvious, of course. There will be time enough to see how you do in polite conversation, but I want to see how you fare with dancing.” Shelooked Elizabeth up and down, sighing heavily. “And how much work we have on our hands.”
Elizabeth’s suppressed laugh of surprise came out as a graceless snort. She attempted a recovery. “Oh, Lady Catherine, I am perfectly able to dance —”
“Perhaps for the humble, rustic assemblies of a small country neighbourhood,” Lady Catherine said dismissively. “But in London, a lady does not bound about like a wild animal. She must glide. Until you can dance with grace and converse with style while you do it, you cannot possibly be seen at any of the dances given by my sister, the Countess of Matlock.”
Elizabeth was engaged in sorting through this assortment of insults and implications and attempting not to laugh aloud at what Lady Catherine seemed to imagine went on at a Meryton assembly when she noticed that her husband seemed to have taken his aunt’s ridicule far more seriously than she had herself. Mr Darcy had stopped reading and leaned forward in his chair. To judge by his thunderous expression, he was not pleased that his aunt was again belittling her.
Catching his eye, Elizabeth shook her head deftly. Acknowledging the gesture with a raised eyebrow and a nod of his own, Mr Darcy subsided. Thankfully, Lady Catherine did not seem to notice.
“I am speaking of the waltz, which has been made more popular in recent years. Do you know the waltz, Mrs Darcy?”
“I must admit that I do not.” For once, her mother had instructed her daughters with a greater eye to modesty than to catching a husband. She had not wished any of the girls to dance the waltz, even with each other, lest they be thought too fast. Little good it had done her in the end!
