Page 46

"Mrs. Jenkinson counts everything." Lady Catherine gestured to her daughter's companion, who sat in the corner like a particularly judgmental gargoyle. "She copied the total from the notebook you left on the breakfast table this morning, Fitzwilliam. Eighteen entries! A dozen before you came into Kent and five solitary drenchings since, I grant you. But one ended in a gazebo with Miss Bennet, and one is quite enough. That is not weather, Miss Bennet. That is a pattern."

Darcy collected the notebook from the table beside Mrs. Jenkinson. "Next time, Aunt, you might ask before having my notes copied."

"The weather in Kent is very unpredictable," Elizabeth tried.

Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing out there? Conducting meteorological experiments?"

"...Yes?" Darcy tried.

"Meteorological experiments?!"

"Observations of the weather," Darcy said. He held up the notebook, which unfortunately bore ample evidence of having been out in it.

Lady Catherine looked at the swollen edges. "I can see what the weather has done to the paper. What have you done to the weather?"

"Very little," Elizabeth said. "We have found it remarkably unwilling to be influenced."

Lady Catherine stared at them both like they'd lost their minds.

"You are the strangest young people I have ever encountered," she declared. "Fitzwilliam, when you marry my Anne, I trust she will find you an occupation indoors."

"I'm not marrying Anne, Aunt."

"Of course you are! It was your mother's dearest wish!"

"Was it? Or did you decide it while we were in our cradles, and keep repeating it until you believed it yourself?"

Lady Catherine's face turned an alarming shade of purple. Charlotte touched Elizabeth's ankle with her shoe. Elizabeth had received that warning often enough at Lucas Lodge to recognize it without looking down.

But Darcy wasn't done.

"Aunt, I have great affection for you. But I will not marry Anne to satisfy a plan you made when we were children. Anne doesn't want to marry me either."

"Anne wants whatever I tell her to want!"

From the corner, a weak voice spoke up: "Actually, Mother, I don't want to marry Fitzwilliam." Everyone turned to stare at Anne de Bourgh, who had been so silent until now that Elizabeth had genuinely forgotten she was in the room.

"Anne!" Lady Catherine gasped. "You cannot mean⁠—"

"I don't want to marry anyone," Anne continued in her faint, wheezy voice. "I want to stay home and read books and breed spaniels. Marriage sounds exhausting."

Elizabeth had to stuff a napkin in her mouth to keep from laughing.

"This is your influence!" Lady Catherine rounded on Elizabeth. "You have been filling their heads with rebellion!"

"I haven't even spoken to Anne!"

"Your presence is corrupting! First Fitzwilliam refuses his duty, now Anne speaks of spaniels instead of matrimony!" Lady Catherine stood dramatically. "You are no longer welcome at Rosings Park, Miss Bennet. You may leave. Immediately."

Charlotte grabbed Elizabeth's arm and hauled her up.

"Thank you for the tea, your ladyship," Charlotte said with perfect composure. "Most enlightening."

They were halfway out the door when Darcy called after them.

"Tomorrow. Ten o'clock. The grove."

"Fitzwilliam!" Lady Catherine shrieked.