It was a dismissal delivered with such courtesy that refusing would have been openly rude. Mrs. Jenkinson recognised this, her jaw tightening before she executed a curtsy.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said. “If Miss Anne requires anything, she need only send for me.”
She left with measured steps, but Elizabeth caught the backward glance she cast before the door closed. That look contained warning and promise both.
After the door closed, Lady Matlock turned back to Elizabeth with an expression that mixed sympathy with understanding.“Mrs. Jenkinson seems very devoted to your care, Anne. But I hope you will feel free to express your own wishes while you are our guest. You are not a child to be constantly supervised.”
The words struck Elizabeth with unexpected force. Lady Matlock saw Anne as a person rather than merely an invalid. Treated her as someone capable of making decisions. The contrast with Rosings was so stark that Elizabeth felt tears gather.
“Thank you, Aunt,” she managed, her voice emerging rough with emotion. “That is very kind of you.”
Lady Matlock’s expression softened further, and she reached across to pat Elizabeth’s hand. “Nonsense. It is simply treating you as you deserve. Now, shall I have tea brought? You must be parched after your journey.”
As Lady Matlock rang for refreshments, Elizabeth allowed herself a moment of cautious hope. Here, at Matlock House, she might find actual allies. Lady Matlock’s kindness felt genuine, her treatment of Anne suggesting she saw past the invalid status.
If only that person truly were Anne de Bourgh.
The parlour on Matlock House’s second floor caught the afternoon sun through windows that faced south. Elizabeth sat on a cushioned chair near one of those windows, a teacup balanced on her knee, while Lady Matlock occupied the seat opposite. The room smelled of lavender and fresh tea.
They had been sitting here for perhaps twenty minutes, engaged in conversation that felt remarkably normal. Lady Matlock had asked about her niece’s health with genuine concern, and had then moved on to other topics with ease.
“I confess I have always found London rather overwhelming during the Season,” Lady Matlock was saying. “The constant round of calls and entertainments becomes exhausting.”
Elizabeth managed a small smile. “I have spent little time in London. Mama prefers the country.”
“Yes, Catherine has always been devoted to her estate,” Lady Matlock said, and something in her tone suggested she found her sister’s devotion excessive. “But I think a change of scene can be beneficial. You must tell me, Anne, are you enjoying your stay so far?”
The question carried genuine curiosity. Elizabeth chose her words with care. “The house is lovely,” Elizabeth offered. “More comfortable than I anticipated. And the garden looks charming.”
Lady Matlock’s face brightened. “You must allow me to show it to you this afternoon if you feel well enough. We have several varieties of roses that I am quite proud of. Nothing compared to Rosings’ grandeur, of course, but I find there is something to be said for a more intimate space.”
“I would like that very much, Aunt. Thank you.”
“No need for thanks,” Lady Matlock replied. “I am simply glad to have you here, Anne. I confess I have always wished we might know each other better.”
The statement hung between them. Elizabeth sensed that Lady Matlock was offering something genuine.
“That would please me greatly,” Elizabeth said, meaning it despite the layers of deception.
Lady Matlock’s expression softened. “You are not what I expected, Anne. The few times we have met previously, you seemed so reserved, so withdrawn. But today you appear more present somehow. More engaged.”
The observation sent alarm shooting through Elizabeth. Had she been too free in her responses? She forced herself to maintain a calm expression.
“Perhaps the change of scene has done me good,” Elizabeth managed. “Or perhaps I simply feel more comfortable with you.”
Lady Matlock smiled with visible pleasure. “I am glad to hear it. And I hope you will continue to feel comfortable enough to speak freely. You need not be so reserved with me, my dear.”
A knock at the door interrupted. Lord Matlock entered, his expression suggesting that he bore news, and indeed so it proved.
“Forgive the interruption, my dear,” Lord Matlock said. “But I thought you should know that I have secured the arrangements for Darcy’s wedding. St George’s, Hanover Square has been booked for Friday afternoon at three o’clock. The special licence has been obtained, and all is in order.”
The teacup rattled against its saucer with a sharp, discordant sound. Elizabeth’s hands shook with a violence she could not control, the delicate china threatening to slip entirely.Friday. The word echoed in her mind with the finality of a judge pronouncing sentence. Friday was just three days away. Only three days to obtain the ingredients, prepare the reversal potion, force Anne to drink it.
Three days. It was impossible. Completely impossible.
“Anne?” Lady Matlock’s concerned voice penetrated the roaring in Elizabeth’s ears. “My dear, are you quite well? You have gone very pale.”
Elizabeth forced herself to set down the teacup before she dropped it. She looked up to find both Matlocks watching her with concern.
