At once, a strange calm settled over him. Though he was involved in a situation beyond anything he had ever imagined, he felt no anger towards Anne’s plans. After months of unrest, dark thoughts, suffering, and difficult decisions, he now had the vivid sensation of standing apart from his own life, observing it from a distance. It was, by far, the calmest he had felt in a long time.
“I hope you do not hate me,” she said softly, with a timid smile.
“No, I am far from hating you. But I am still shocked.”
“I understand. I am ready to answer any questions.”
In truth, Darcy looked at her with growing admiration. He still could not fully believe that this was real. The whole situation had the quality of a dream—but not a bad one—for Anne was calm, and somewhere, in the distance of his thoughts, he could see the face of another woman.
“It is impossible,” he murmured, more to himself than in answer to her.
“It is possible, Cousin.” In that moment, she spoke to him as a cousin, not as a wife.
“I should be enraged…devastated…” he said, looking at her.
“But you are not,” she observed.
“No. But if I am to speak honestly…Cousin Anne, I begin to feel almost sorry that you have decided to leave me…on our wedding night!”
Anne blushed, though her smile did not fade.
“That is such a sweet compliment coming from you,” she said, her cheeks warm with colour.
“Are you quite certain you do not wish to abandon your plan and make another—simpler one—a life with me at Pemberley?”
“Thank you. You cannot imagine what your words mean to me. But they only give me the courage to continue…with my plan. And then, when everything is settled, you must go to Hertfordshire. You need this divorce even more than I do.”
“The only recognised ground for a man’s divorce and remarriage is the adultery of his wife,” Darcy said.
“I know. Then we shall give them adultery. I am eloping with a man.”
She spoke steadily, looking directly into his eyes, and this time she did not blush. The idea struck him as unexpected—a man in Anne’s life.
“So, Cousin Anne, there is another man.”
And the young lady—so often considered fragile, if not slow—smiled and said, “Yes, there is a man. But this is not about him. Let us discuss all the other matters in detail.”
“Then you know that, to marry again, I shall need a private bill in Parliament.”
“Yes—but only after you bring successful suits in the Ecclesiastical Court for separation from bed and board, and in the civil courts for financial damages.”
“You could be a solicitor.”
She smiled. “Let us say that the other man is one.”
“But not important enough for your mother to accept him.”
“No, of course not. In her eyes, he stands no higher than Mr Collins. And she fears any man who would marry me and take control of my proprieties.”
“I see. And did this gentleman have any involvement…in our marriage?”
Anne looked at him in surprise. “Of course not—you remember, I accepted your proposal immediately.”
That was true—which meant she had been clever enough to put together such a plan in only a few moments.
“A divorce may be very expensive,” Anne continued, and he remained silent so she might finish. “But of course that would not be a problem for you. In time, you need only give me half of the fortune you received some weeks ago.”
So that was the full plan.
