Page 116 of Colour My World
Mr Collins bobbed his head furiously. “Indeed, most excellent Your Ladyship, I cannot express my delight that you should bestow such grace upon—”
With a wave of her hand, she ascended the stairs. Her coterie followed in her wake. Darcy watched his aunt, the unstoppable force.
A cold hand graced his cheek. He looked down to see Anne’s eyes, pale, strange, and knowing, met his. “Chin up, Darcy,” she murmured. “This was inevitable.”
Anne’s maid, Mrs Jenkinson, whisked her up the stairs, while Darcy remained at the foot of the grand staircase.
Lady Catherine’s command echoed in the cavernous hall. “Tea. The largest drawing room. Immediately,” and the butler hurried down the stairs.
The tension in Darcy’s shoulders neared a breaking point.
Bingley, at last, found his voice. “I say,” he muttered. “What the devil just happened?”
* * *
The fire in the blue room, as Lady Catherine had dubbed it, crackled, but the warmth did not reach Darcy’s bones. His aunt sat in the central chair, her hands upon her cane. Mr Collins hovered nearby. Anne sat unmoving, layered in furs and silence. Mrs Jenkinson adjusted a shawl, whispered something, and settled back into ether.
Bingley sat, his eyes darting between Darcy and Lady Catherine as if a canary caught in a gilded cage.
Her Ladyship tapped her cane once. “We shall not mince words, Darcy,” she said. “It is well past time you ceased this nonsense and fulfilled your obligations.”
“Obligations, Your Ladyship?”
“Do not play coy with me.”
Collins cleared his throat. “Indeed, Mr Darcy, Her Ladyship speaks nothing but wisdom! I have often said—”
“Desist,” Darcy said.
Collins gulped. Lady Catherine continued as though he had never spoken.
“You were always meant for Anne. The connection between Rosings and Pemberley is of vital importance.”
Collins nodded fervently.
Darcy looked past him to Anne. She met his gaze, impassive.
Lady Catherine’s fingers tightened over her cane. “She has always been your intended. Your mother wanted it.”
Darcy inclined his head. “She did not.”
Lady Catherine’s nostrils flared. “Your father approved.”
“He, too, did not.”
Lady Catherine’s nails drummed once on her cane. “Your father agreed to the match.”
Darcy exhaled slowly. “He knew he was dying. He spoke many things near the end. This was an empty threat, made when he knew he would not live to enforce it.”
Lady Catherine’s jaw tightened. “And do you mean to disregard his legacy?”
Darcy rolled his shoulders. The weight of expectation sat there no longer. “I intend to honour it.”
Lady Catherine’s cane struck the floor. “You were raised for this. Anne was raised for this.”
Darcy pressed his fingertips into his palm. “I was raised togovern Pemberley.”
“You would throw away all that was planned for you?”
