The Colonel's Spinster - Audrey Harrison Page 0,45

the butler, she said, “I’ll see him in the study. I expect he will not have eaten. Please set another place for him at the dining table.”

“I should come with you,” Mr. Huxley said. “She followed me. I have some responsibility in this.”

“No. Anne chose to follow you, and she is well over the age of consent. It was her own doing. Remain here. I am not hanging you out for anyone to blame you in all of this.”

“If there are any problems, send me word, and cousin or no, I will send him packing,” Mr. Bamber instructed.

“I doubt there will be any need for that.” Prudence smiled at her father as she left the room. She hoped there would not be. She had not exactly departed on good terms with Darcy. Oh well, it appeared being a member of her mother’s family was going to be constantly trying.

Walking into the study, shoulders set, expecting to see her cousin Darcy, she faltered on the threshold. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said in a surprised greeting.

“Cousin.”

“I did not expect to see you, but I presume you are here in Mr. Darcy’s stead?” Prudence had forced herself to continue into the room when she actually wanted to retreat somewhere far away. She had thought of Fitzwilliam so many times. She had ached to see him again, but now he was here, she had no idea how to act. He looked formal, wary even, and she imagined she did not look too different.

“Yes. He sent me an urgent message to check on Aunt Catherine.”

“How is she?”

“Being as demanding as always, but from her sick room. I feel she is remaining within her chamber to demand pity from those around her rather than out of necessity. She probably went into shock at Anne’s outburst, but underneath the tomfoolery she has embarked upon, she has a strong constitution,” Fitzwilliam responded.

His eyes never left Prudence’s, and the intensity of his stare was a little unnerving. “You have relayed your information to Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes. It was always my intention to travel here once I’d been to see how things were at Rosings. Mrs. Darcy is very close to her confinement now, and I did not wish Darcy to be away from home.”

“That is very considerate of you. I knew of his situation, but I thought it best to send him the express.”

“You could have contacted me,” Fitzwilliam said quietly.

“No. I could not. It was hard enough contacting Darcy.”

Fitzwilliam seemed to sag a little but continued to speak. “I knew when I arrived here there would be issues to sort out. Anne’s health will dictate what happens next.” He could feel the tension in the room just as much as Prudence could. He wanted to ask her how she had been: if it was through caring for Anne that she looked fagged, or if she was ailing herself. The thought that she might be ill had set his heart racing in panic. More than anything he wished to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness. Instead he stood ramrod straight and spoke in clipped terms.

“Anne is gravely ill,” Prudence admitted.

Fitzwilliam paled. “Is it a hopeless case? Darcy said you had suggested it was.”

“We honestly don’t know, but there has been little change since she arrived here.”

“May I see her?”

Prudence had refused Mr. Huxley admittance to Anne’s room, but it was different for Fitzwilliam. He was almost like a brother to Anne, and she could not keep him away.

“Prepare yourself, Fitzwilliam. She has changed since you last saw her,” Prudence said before turning on her heel and leading the way out of the room.

They walked in silence up the stairs and into the room in which Anne was lying motionless in the centre of the large four-poster bed. The housekeeper was tending to her, having taken over from Prudence for the night.

Fitzwilliam faltered when he saw his cousin. “She’s always been small and fragile looking, but she looks…”

“I know,” Prudence said gently. She had some sympathy for how he must be feeling. “Come. Speak to her.”

“Speak to her?” Fitzwilliam asked in surprise.

“Yes. We do not know if she can hear anything, so we greet her and tell her about everything that is happening. Just in case she can.”

Looking uncomfortable, Fitzwilliam approached the bed. “Hello, Anne,” he said quietly. “It’s Richard. I have come to see what all this fuss is about. You have been causing a bit of excitement, but everyone is absolutely fine at Rosings. There is nothing for you