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Anne let out a bark of laughter that startled Diana.
“Marry you?” Anne shook her head, her amusement unfeigned. “Fitzwilliam, I love you dearly as a cousin, but I would rather marry the vicar’s pig. You are far too serious, your estate is far too large, and I have no inclination to manage fifty bedchambers or argue with the housekeeper about the menus.”
The tension left Darcy’s chest. “Thank you, Anne.”
“My ideal existence,” Anne continued, her eyes shining with a mischievous light, “consists of a warm fire, an endless supply of gothic literature, and silence. I wish to read The Mysteries of Udolpho without my mother attempting to correct the grammar of the fictional spectres and I wish to feed hounds from silver platters. That is the sum total of my ambition.”
“It is a noble ambition,” Darcy agreed, his smile returning.
Anne tilted her head, observing him closely.
“You did not come here to clear your conscience, Cousin. You have finally decided to fight my mother. Which raises the question: what has prompted this sudden burst of courage?”
Darcy hesitated for a moment, but the trust in the room was absolute.
“Or rather,” Anne amended, a knowing smirk on her lips, “who has prompted it? Have you finally set your cap at Miss Elizabeth?”
Georgiana gasped loudly, her eyes wide with hope.
“I have. I spoke with Miss Elizabeth in the garden this morning. I confessed my sentiments, and I asked for her permission to court her.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam!” Georgiana squealed, abandoning all propriety and bouncing on the sofa cushions. “Did she say yes? Tell me she said yes!”
“She accepted,” Darcy confirmed. “We are in agreement.”
Georgiana threw her arms into the air, releasing a sound of pure delight, the movement startling the hounds. Apollo and Diana leapt to their feet, barking excitedly, joining the celebration without understanding the cause.
Anne laughed, attempting to calm the dogs. When they settled back into relative quiet, she turned her gaze back to Darcy, her expression soft and approving.
“You have chosen very wisely, Cousin,” Anne said. “As far as I can tell, Miss Elizabeth is a fine lady. She has a brilliant mind, and she is unafraid of my mother. She will keep you on your toes, and she will ensure you do not become a solemn old bore.”
“She already accomplishes both of those tasks effortlessly,” Darcy admitted.
“But you cannot court her openly,” Anne deduced. “Not while my mother continues to insist on this supposed engagement. Miss Elizabeth would be subjected to endless insults.”
“Precisely.” Darcy nodded. “I cannot expose her to that. I require your assistance, Anne. Both of you.” He directed his gaze to Georgiana as well. “If I argue with Lady Catherine alone, she will dismiss it as a temporary madness. But if you, Anne, refuse the union in her presence, she will have no choice but to accept the defeat.”
“I shall do it,” Anne said firmly. “I am weary of being a pawn in her games. I will tell her I refuse to marry you, and I will not yield, no matter how loudly she shouts.”
“And I shall stand beside you both,” Georgiana added bravely, lifting her chin. “Aunt Catherine will not harass us any longer.”
Darcy stared at the two young women before him. He was no longer fighting alone and he had a plan to secure the happiness of his family.
He rose from the armchair and walked to the sofa. He leaned down and pressed a warm, affectionate kiss to Georgiana’s cheek. His sister beamed, wrapping her arms briefly around his waist. He then turned to Anne, pressing a kiss to her cheek as well.
“I am in your debt, Cousin,” Darcy murmured.
“You can repay me by ensuring your servants never serve me buttered chicken again,” Anne replied drily.
Before Darcy could offer his solemn vow regarding the poultry, he felt a rough and very wet sensation on his lower legs. Apollo and Diana had crowded around his boots. Having finished the ham, the hounds were expressing their own affection by thoroughly licking the leather of his Hessians. Darcy sighed, accepting the canine endorsement. The campaign for Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s heart was underway, and he was prepared for everything.
Chapter Seven: The Linen Closet Perils
The blue suite received Elizabeth with more calm than she brought into it. Azure silk, morning light, the view of the hills: all of it waited, indifferent to the fact that she had, only minutes ago, given Mr Darcy leave to court her and then walked back to the house on his arm while his aunt scolded him for his attire.
Maggie was humming at the washstand, which was never a good sign. A humming maid was a maid with a story she had not yet spent.
“Hot water, miss? You’ve been out. The yellow has a little dust at the hem. I can have the green sarcenet ready before you go down, if you want to be handsome for the table.”
