She turned to her footman, James, who had accompanied her and Georgiana on their return from Lambton.
“James, ask Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Winthrop to attend me urgently in the study.” She said nothing more, for she had learnt from Lady Jersey that silence was as effective a weaponas speech in damping down the temper of another who was unlikely to listen to reason—particularly if the lady were unwell.
“I am highly displeased!” exclaimed Lady Catherine, her angry tone undiminished, yet again interrupted by a severe cough. She attempted to stand but had insufficient strength in her arms to assist herself from the chair.
There was a nervous shuffle at the door. Both Mrs. Reynolds and Winthrop entered, staring at Lady de Bourgh with trepidation.
“Mrs. Bennet, you wished to speak with me?” Mrs. Reynolds clasped her hands together, her knuckles white.
“Lady Catherine appears extremely fatigued, unwell. Please assist her to her room and have some tea—perhaps some broth—taken up to her.”
James, who had returned to the study, stepped forward, gently taking Lady Catherine’s arm. “If you please, ma’am, I will assist you.”
Lady Catherine, taken completely unawares by the turn of events, found she was unable to break free of his grip, though in truth, she did not have the energy to resist. Before she could respond, she was being led into the corridor.
“Winthrop, did Miss Anne, Lady Catherine’s daughter, accompany her?” Elizabeth was taken aback by the suddenness of Lady Catherine’s collapse, though perhaps it was only fatigue from the long journey from Kent.
“Indeed, Miss Anne is in the drawing room. I believe Miss Darcy is attending her,” replied Winthrop. “My apologies, Mrs. Bennet. I had not thought to lock the door to the study.”
“In future, only the senior staff, Miss Darcy, and I should have access. I dislike locked doors, but there appear to be too many inquisitive guests in this house. Now, I must introduce myself to Miss Anne.”
Elizabeth paused in the corridor, her breath still shallow from the encounter. She pressed her palms together to steady herself, then smoothed her skirts with deliberate care before proceeding toward the drawing room. The door stood ajar, and within she could hear the gentle murmur of Georgiana’s voice, a soothing contrast to the storm that had just passed.
Inside, Miss Anne de Bourgh sat rigidly on the edge of a settee, her slight frame swaddled in layers of pale muslin. She bore little resemblance to her mother: her features were delicately drawn, her complexion wan.
Georgiana, seated beside her, looked up as Elizabeth entered, relief softening her countenance. “Mrs. Elizabeth, may I present my cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh?”
Elizabeth offered a reassuring smile. “It is my pleasure, Miss de Bourgh. I hope your journey was not too taxing.”
Anne’s lips parted as if to reply, but she merely nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. Georgiana rose, drawing Elizabeth aside. “Lady Catherine means to remain some weeks, I fear. She arrived unannounced and is greatly displeased with everything—from the weather to the tea service.” She glanced at Anne, her brow furrowed with concern. “Anne is… not herself. She is overworn, I think.”
Elizabeth glanced at the slight, trembling figure and felt a surge of compassion. “We must make her feel welcome. Perhaps a walk in the gardens when she is rested? Away from Lady Catherine’s oversight.”
Elizabeth returned to Anne, her manner gentle. “Miss de Bourgh, if you wish, we could explore the conservatory later. The camellias are in bloom, and it is quite peaceful there.”
At that moment, the sound of Lady Catherine’s voice echoed faintly from the upper landing, protesting her removal. Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Georgiana.
“My apologies, but I was rather abrupt with Lady Catherine,” she said. “It was not my place to have her sent to her room. But you understand, Georgiana, that we cannot have her rifling through Mr. Darcy’s affairs.”
“Oh, she had gone to the study? Why, she said she merely wished to refresh herself,” Georgiana replied.
“My mother,” whispered Anne, “heard from cousin Richard that Darcy was away. She was annoyed that he had not written to her, for he always comes to Rosings at Easter, yet only Richard came.”
“Surely she could have written to him?” said Georgiana. “For he is not hiding away—just gone to Ireland to supervise one of our father’s investments.”
“Indeed, she could have written. But that is not her way,” Anne replied, a glint in her eyes. “I believe she wishes to manage Pemberley in Darcy’s absence. She does not believe that you, Georgiana, can look after the estate without it falling into ruin.” She laughed softly. “We heard much of the exchange down the corridor, Mrs. Elizabeth. It would have been difficult not to hear my mother’s outrage all the way to Kent! You are a friend of Georgiana?—indeed, possibly more than a friend?” She gave Elizabeth a shrewd look, which belied her otherwise frail demeanour. “I doubt very much a mere guest would dress down Lady de Bourgh when in full fury!”
Elizabeth could but suppress a smile at Miss Anne’s perceptiveness. “You are quite correct, Miss de Bourgh. I am a guest of Miss Darcy, for we met in London at Lady Matlock’s. Yet also I have oversight of certain matters pertaining to the estate. Mr. Darcy entrusted me with more than the care of his sister’s leisure.” She glanced at Georgiana, who gave a small, grateful nod.
Anne’s shrewd gaze softened, and she seemed to gather courage from Elizabeth’s candour. “I am glad of it. My motheris not accustomed to being crossed, nor to finding herself so skilfully managed. But I confess, I am feeling a little unwell. I should retire to my room.”
“Miss de Bourgh, your mother is also unwell, possibly a little fevered. Did you encounter any illness on your journey?”
“None on the journey, but before we left Hunsford, several children came down with the measles—though they recovered quickly enough. Mr. Collins spoke of it when he came to tea, just prior to our departure.”
Elizabeth felt a sudden chill. “Did Mr. Collins appear well when he visited?” she asked, with some trepidation.
Anne de Bourgh was silent for a few minutes as she thought back to the afternoon. “No, he was in very good spirits, but Mrs. Watkins from the village had a slight cough and rheumy eyes, but she said she had had only a poor night’s sleep, and she would feel better on the morrow.”
