The butler bowed and withdrew. Darcy opened the door between the two rooms. As always, fresh flowers had beenplaced beneath his mother’s portrait. The greenhouse provided them throughout the year—one of the prides of Pemberley. They even grew oranges and dates there, rare in that part of the country. He thought Anne might enjoy walking there in the colder months, when the wind was sharp and the days unkind.
She came soon after. She knocked, as she had been taught, and again he noticed how light her step was.
He welcomed her with a smile, and she returned it—so different from the timid, anxious woman she had been at Rosings. On impulse, he kissed her hand, then invited her to sit in an armchair facing Lady Anne Darcy’s portrait.
Anne looked at her aunt’s image with quiet affection.
“She was beautiful,” she said. “Now that I see her, I remember her so clearly.”
“You were…what…twelve when she died?”
“Yes. She was a grand lady. Even my mother would smile when they met.”
Darcy remembered those moments well; there had been ease in them, even warmth.
“Now, my dear,” he said, “what can I do for you? Shall I show you the house?”
Anne shook her head. “No. I have something to speak to you about.”
She fell silent. It was plainly not an easy subject. Outside, the light was fading, and he wondered whether she meant only to delay the moment when he must attend her to her room.
“If it is about the wedding night—” he began.
“No,” she said quickly.
He studied her. She was gathering courage. But if not that—what could it be?
“It is not easy to tell you the truth,” she said, growing even paler.
He felt, for the first time, a real concern. “What truth? What are you trying to tell me?”
“I know you do not love me…”
“Anne,” he said, startled, “what do you mean? Marriage is not always built on romantic love.”
“Of course not. But all this time I have asked myself—why did you want to marry me?”
“We are married. Does the reason matter so much? I shall be a good husband, and I ask you to be a good wife. We may come to care for one another in time.”
“I am trying to be honest with you. The thought that you love another woman…helps me.”
At that, his attention sharpened at once. She looked so innocent, so untouched by the world, that he could not imagine what she was about to confess.
For one moment, a troubling thought crossed his mind. Could she—? No. He could not picture her with another man. Perhaps someone had forced himself upon her, as Wickham had once intended with his sister.
“You could not have known this, but when my father died, he made very clear provisions in his will, in agreement with Lord Matlock.”
“And not with Lady Catherine,” Darcy exclaimed, surprised.
“Exactly. Rosings Park was settled directly on me, entirely in my possession at one and twenty, with Lord Matlock as sole trustee—but with far greater authority than a usual trustee. He has the right to decide what is to be done with my estate in any situation not expressly covered by the will.”
Darcy listened with growing astonishment. It was nothing like what he had believed all these years, when he had assumed that Lady Catherine alone held full control. As for the marriage settlement, he had signed it without troubling himselfwith Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s will. Rosings had never interested him, and he had left everything in his uncle’s hands, certain that Lord Matlock would always act to keep the estate within the family.
“My husband was to take control of the estate and the income, while Lady Catherine was to receive a very generous allowance for the rest of her life, along with the right to live at Rosings.”
“But she has acted as trustee all this time.”
“Yes. Lord Matlock allowed her to act in his stead—not strictly regular, but it was a family matter, and no one thought to question it. My mother did everything she could to keep me the weak, helpless creature she had raised, so that she might retain full control. She would never have allowed me to marry anyone but you, because she knew that in your case you would not come to live at Rosings, and even if you had taken an interest in managing the estate, she would still have remained its mistress.”
