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She navigated the lower passage, guided by a faint hum of activity. She found the drawing-room doors open, so she braced herself for the grand lady’s disdain and entered.
Instead of Lady Catherine, Elizabeth found Miss de Bourgh occupying the corner of a luxurious settee. The young woman appeared utterly exhausted, her thin frame swathed in a woollen shawl despite the warmth of the summer afternoon.
Miss de Bourgh raised her head and offered a surprisingly genuine smile.
“Miss Elizabeth,” she murmured, gesturing to the nearest armchair. “Please, do come in. I believe we are safe from my mother for at least an hour. She is currently terrorising the head gardener regarding the placement of his hydrangeas.”
Elizabeth sat, studying the heiress of Rosings Park. Without Lady Catherine’s overbearing presence, Miss de Bourgh lacked the haughty superiority Elizabeth had always attributed to her. She merely seemed tired.
“I must apologise, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss de Bourgh continued, her fingers twisting the fringe of her shawl. “My mother’s conduct at the inn was atrocious. She treats the entire world as her personal puppet theatre, and she moves people about with no regard for their own inclinations.”
Elizabeth looked at her with sympathy. “You need not apologise for another person’s actions, Miss de Bourgh. I am certain you have no control over her ladyship’s decisions.”
“I have no control over anything whatsoever,” Miss de Bourgh whispered with a wry note in her speech. “But it was inexcusable to drag you and your relatives from your chosen path.”
Before Elizabeth could offer further comfort, a rustle of silk announced another arrival. Miss Darcy hovered in the doorway. The young girl possessed a timid, uncertain demeanour, her eyes darting nervously around the large room.
“Georgiana!” Miss de Bourgh sat up straighter, her entire persona shifting in an instant, adopting a familiar posture, raising her chin to a sharp angle.
She cleared her throat, producing a booming imitation of her mother’s commanding volume. “Georgiana! Is that a slouch I detect? A gentleman’s sister does not bend her spine like a wilting willow! Shoulders back! Chin elevated! We must not allow the Derbyshire air to ruin your carriage!”
Miss de Bourgh punctuated the imitation with a fit of coughing, ruining the imperious effect.
Elizabeth gasped, trying hopelessly to stifle a burst of laughter.
Miss Darcy’s initial panic dissolved into a brilliant smile. She hurried into the room, abandoning her shyness. “Oh, Anne! You are wicked! If Aunt Catherine caught you doing that, she would confine us both to our bedchambers for a fortnight!”
“It would be a welcome reprieve from her lectures,” Miss de Bourgh managed to say, recovering from her coughing fit, and glancing at Miss Darcy affectionately.
The ice in the drawing-room cracked and shattered. Elizabeth’s own tension ebbed away. These were not the haughty, unapproachable women she had anticipated. They were two young ladies seeking refuge from Lady Catherine’s authority.
A clicking sound on the floor preceded the arrival of two wire-haired wolfhounds, trotting with purposeful strides. Elizabeth braced herself, but the hounds ignored her and Miss Darcy, making a direct line for the settee. One of them rested its head gently on Miss de Bourgh’s lap, while the other curled its large body carefully around the heiress’s feet, releasing a contented sigh.
Miss de Bourgh smiled, her fingers sinking into the dog’s coarse fur. She scratched the beast behind the ears. “Hello, my handsome brutes. Have you come to protect me from my mother? Miss Elizabeth, may I present to you Apollo and Diana?”
Miss Darcy crossed her arms, feigning offence. “They are traitors, Miss Elizabeth. I feed them excellent scraps from my own plate, and they abandon me the instant they see Anne.”
“I am honoured to make their acquaintance,” Elizabeth said. “They seem very well behaved.”
“They recognise a kindred spirit, Georgiana.” Miss de Bourgh rested her cheek briefly on Apollo’s head. “We are all weary of being ordered about. The hounds, as well as I, prefer to do as we please, not as we are told.”
Elizabeth observed the interaction with growing amazement. The intimidating dogs were docile under Miss de Bourgh’s gentle touch. It was a side of the young woman that Lady Catherine would not allow to shine.
Miss de Bourgh lifted her head, the playfulness evaporating, replaced by a serious mood.
“I know you have heard multiple times about my supposed destiny to become Mrs Darcy,” Miss de Bourgh started. “My mother proclaims it to anyone forced to listen. But I want you to know, Miss Elizabeth, this is not my wish.”
Elizabeth did not speak, uncertain how to navigate this shockingly intimate confession.
“I am fully aware that my health will not allow me to live a full and long life,” Miss de Bourgh continued, her fingers still combing the hound’s fur. “I accepted that truth long ago. What I wish is to live my short life in a manner that I actually like. I desire my books, a warm fire, and tranquillity. I have no desire to manage an estate, nor do I wish to marry a man who views me as a familial obligation.”
Miss Darcy sank onto the settee beside her cousin, wrapping a supportive arm around Miss de Bourgh’s shoulders.
Miss de Bourgh turned her gaze back to Elizabeth. “I do not notice many things, Miss Elizabeth. But I observed in Kent the way Fitzwilliam stared at you. He followed your every movement with his eyes. Is there something that you wish to share?”
Miss Darcy gasped, her eyes widening to impossible proportions. She turned to Elizabeth, with a mixture of shock and delight.
“Oh, my! This is why he has been speaking about you so frequently?” Miss Darcy exclaimed. “He has never, ever mentioned another young lady to me in my entire life!”
