Page 9 of The Difference of a Darcy
Charlotte turned sharply. “Maria—”
“She could,” Maria insisted, stepping into the room. “It makes perfect sense. She is your dearest friend, and she is not needed at Longbourn. Jane and Mary will manage the mending, and Kitty and Lydia are not likely to notice one way or another.”
“Maria, it is not your place to extend an invitation—” Elizabeth began.
But Charlotte had already turned to her. “Would you?” Her voice was low and earnest. “I would not have asked, but… if you could come, Lizzy, I would be so grateful. It would make it allbearable. Truly.”
Elizabeth hesitated, caught entirely off guard. “I—well—I must ask my father, of course.”
“Of course,” Charlotte echoed quickly, but her eyes were already shining with relief. “Only if he agrees.”
“I was only trying to help,” Maria said, flopping into a chair and reaching for the sewing basket with complete innocence. “Better you than me, anyway. I could not stand being shut up with Mr. Collins all through Christmastide.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest again, but the words failed her. There was nothing to say. Charlotte looked so worn and hopeful, and Maria had said aloud what no one else dared.
The matter, it seemed, was decided: to Kent she would go.
Chapter 2
Rosings Park, Kent—December 21st, 1811
The snow had begun again by the time the carriage turned onto the long drive to Rosings. A bitter wind sliced through the trees, piling fresh drifts atop the frozen ruts already carved into the lane. Darcy shifted stiffly, joints aching from the jostling, and tugged his greatcoat tighter about his frame. The lamps were already lit at the great house, glowing faintly through the flurry. It was near dark, though not yet five o’clock.
His arrival was nearly three hours later than intended. A tree had fallen near Maidstone, forcing the post-chaise to take an abominable alternate route. His coachman had cursed under his breath most of the afternoon. Darcy had said little. His mind was already at Rosings—already with Anne.
If she truly is as ill as the letter had suggested…
He stepped down onto the packed gravel, his boots crunching as he crossed the drive. The butler opened the door before he reached it, and he was ushered into the high-ceilinged entrance hall with no more warmth than the winter air behind him. Lady Catherine was already striding down the marble staircase.
“You are intolerably late,” she announced, arms folded above the embroidered swell of her gown. “You were expected at four. It is past seven.”
“I apologize, Aunt,” he said with a bow. “A blockage on the road out of Maidstone delayed us longer than expected.”
“No excuse,” she said, waving him toward the drawing room. “Anne waited to see you. She was quite determined. But she grew tired, poor thing, and retired just before tea.”
Darcy removed his gloves and followed her into the room, catching sight of the same stiff-backed furniture and over-embroidered cushions that had plagued his memory of the place for years. The fire burned hot in the grate, but the rest of the house held the damp chill of old stone and draughty windows.
Darcy frowned. “Is her condition so serious?”
Lady Catherine raised a handkerchief to dab delicately at the corner of her mouth. “It is not as dire as it might have been had you delayed further.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. A roaring fire crackled in the drawing room, but it did little to ease the chill that had settled into his bones.
“She has grown quite ill,” Lady Catherine continued. “Delicate. Her appetite is poor, but the physician insists she must avoid all strong emotion. I trust you will not upset her tomorrow.”
Darcy bowed his head slightly. “Of course.”
“And do not make her speak overmuch,” she added, her voice clipped. “You may sit with her. Offer comfort. She is, after all, your intended.”
Darcy froze. “My—pardon?”
“Intended,” she said again, sharply, as though daring him to object. “It is high time the connection was formalized. You are both of age. There is no obstacle.”
“It is not a connection to which I have agreed,” he said coldly.
“We can discuss all that when Mr. Collins arrives tomorrow.”
He looked at her blankly.Why does that name sound familiar?“Mr… Collins?”
