know what Aunt Catherine is like, to some extent at least,” Darcy said. “Although if she isn’t wed, perhaps he is looking for her to become a companion and feels she could benefit with learning what the role entails. Better than working in a mill for the rest of her life.”
“It’s all very intriguing,” Elizabeth said. “I almost wish I could accompany you. But not quite.”
Fitzwilliam laughed. “I’d appreciate the help from either of you. Aunt Catherine is going to be in top form. It would probably take the three of us to protect the poor girl. I wonder: Does she know what she has let herself in for?”
“She might have already run back to Manchester by the time you get there,” Elizabeth said.
“That is presuming she can afford the coach fare, for you can guarantee, however rough and uncivilised she is, Aunt Catherine won’t give up the opportunity for free services easily,” Darcy warned. “I shall look forward to your letters.”
“And I shall look forward to Charlotte’s,” Elizabeth said with reference to her best friend, who was the wife of Elizabeth’s cousin, the clergyman attached to Rosings. Although Charlotte had married a man who was lacking in sensibility, she remained a dear friend to Elizabeth and had travelled to spend some time with Elizabeth at Pemberley. That this had occurred at one of the busiest times of the year for any clergyman had not been a coincidence. Inflicting the prosaic personality of Mr. Collins on her husband was not something Elizabeth was prepared to do.
“Anyway, enough of our family’s deep dark secrets. Tell us more of your travels. I am glad you returned to us safely,” Darcy said of his cousin.
“As am I, Darcy. As am I.”
*
Fitzwilliam rode horseback to Rosings rather than take his carriage. He was a man used to being outdoors, and days spent confined in a vehicle did not appeal to him. He would be restricted enough when he arrived at his destination, because Lady Catherine De Bourgh demanded constant attention from her guests. Which was another of the many reasons he had always visited with Darcy.
Turning onto the estate of Rosings, Fitzwilliam felt his shoulders set even though he was still in the saddle. The grandeur of the building, the opulence of the interior, and the whole self-importance of the place and its residents were such as to give a constant air of aloofness. It was a formal, unwelcoming place.
It was going to be a long few weeks.
After he entered the large hallway, one of the many servants employed by his aunt relieved him of his greatcoat. He idly wondered if any but the ones in close contact with his aunt actually worked very hard. There always seemed to be an abundance of staff, far too many for the family who resided there.
He was informed that Lady Catherine was resting in her chamber, but that Miss Anne was in the drawing room with Miss Bamber. Presuming this was the name of his newly found cousin, he entered the room. Fitzwilliam faltered slightly before continuing into the large square space. He had never seen Anne look so well.
Immediately recollecting himself, he approached his cousin, bowing over her outstretched hand. “Cousin Anne, you are looking particularly fine this morning. It is a pleasure to see you,” he said. It was true. Anne had colour in her cheeks. She was a small, thin girl, prone to a pinched expression and feebleness. When he’d walked in, she had been laughing with her companion, cheeks rosy and eyes shining ― something Fitzwilliam had never seen before. It had warmed his insides to see such a difference in his cousin.
Anne blushed. “I have started to ride out with Prudence every morning in a gig. We do it before my mother comes below stairs. She wouldn’t be happy at my spending so much time out of doors, but I feel the benefit of it.”
Fitzwilliam was staggered by two things: first, that his cousin was daring to go against her mother, and second, that she’d uttered more than one sentence at a time. Suddenly, his stay had become far more interesting.
He turned to Prudence. “And you must be my secret cousin,” he said with an engaging smile. “Richard Fitzwilliam, colonel of the finest dragoons at your service ma’am.” Bowing with a flourish, Fitzwilliam grinned at Prudence. He might not be the most handsome man one would ever see, his features being plain rather than striking, but he certainly had address and was