Page 32 of The Fee Entail

He laughed. “I do not know the specifics, as I must leave that to the proper experts. In general terms, the procedure is straightforward enough.”

My curiosity was overflowing. “At least tell me the broad outlines.”

“The principal component consists of putting her in company with you and your sisters, then leaving her there until the deed is done. I have no idea how it proceeds from there, but I am sure Miss Lydia and Jane will have matters well in hand within a fortnight. Truly, Elizabeth, this is rather rudimentary sister recovery. I am surprised you had to ask, what with it being so obvious.”

He had a knack for making me just stop walking so I could concentrate on staring at him in confusion, and as usual, he just clamped my hand to his side and forced me to restart by carrying on as before.

I looked up to see him smiling at me. “Be careful, Fitzwilliam; you may end up with a sister that is indistinguishable from mine.”

“Yes, I can hope.”

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I did not. We continued along for a time, commenting on this feature and that feature of the garden. By some type of safety sense, we were learning how to quit prying at sensitive subjects before any lasting damage was done.

So, he liked my sisters now! That readily proved one of my earlier conjectures. He simply came to his senses, or perhaps, and this seemed more likely, my sisters were more worthy now. I was not blind to what they were before. Such wilful ignorance was to nobody’s credit, and I had to admit that the past year on the whole was not all bad for them. Perhaps the adversity forced them to become what they might have become eventually anyway, or maybe it was a branch in life that went to the light in one direction and the darkness in the other, and they all just stumbled on the right path by chance.

We had not spoken about the future after my assertions that he needed to marry, and it was not a subject I would reopen for a while, but I began to wonder if he was giving it serious consideration. The day before, he saw the good sense and iron-willed discipline of one more Bennet sister, and there was every chance that he might attach himself to Jane. I must admit it brought very ungracious and unladylike quivers of pleasure at the thought of how Mr Bingley would react to the news.

Fitzwilliam’s heart was obviously not given to any other eligible ladies, and I noticed he found something pleasing in my sisters. There was no way to predict the future, or the direction of his heart, but of one thing I was beginning to be certain. Should he have his heart engaged by one of my sisters, it would solve a lot of problems in one fell swoop, not the least of which would be his felicity. He would be happy with his choice, and also bound to all the sisters by law, by duty, by custom, by inclination, by everything. The loss of Longbourn would become a sad bit of family history, not the beginning of a life of penury. He would be our protector, he would be my protector, and as I now knew, he would take the duty most seriously. No longer would we be dependent on Lady Catherine to find suitors when the time came, and for Lydia and Kitty at least, the time could wait for some years without distress. If he liked my sisters so much, perhaps when they were his sisters, he might introduce them to society at the same time as his own. It all made a very good kind of sense.

Yes, there was not the slightest doubt about it. I had learnt over the last six days that, much like Jane before me, I actually liked Fitzwilliam Darcy. I liked him very much indeed. He would be the best brother in the world, and I would rejoice in Jane’s felicity. I should be most happy indeed… and yet… and yet… and yet… I was not. I was somehow disturbed by the very idea.

Silks

Anne

“You look absolutely lovely, my dear.”

Those words nearly had me stumbling over myself and falling flat on my face, which would almost certainly have negated the compliment. I did in fact look lovely in my own opinion, or as lovely as I ever did. I was wearing a silk dress of the lightest pink, with a green ribbon just below the bodice. I had made a secret visit to the modiste some months earlier to have it made on a whim, so only the seamstress and my maid had ever seen it. Both were sworn to secrecy under threat of the severest penalties. Granted, such threats were not all that frightening, but our agreement was kept. I had a modest but not grandmotherly bodice that very tastefully displayed a very little bit of my charms, a small but elegant amount of lace, and long sleeves that covered the scars on my upper arms that resulted from overzealous bleeding from charlatans… er… physicians. I can never remember which is which, since they seem synonymous in my experience. My hair was done up in what I thought was a most becoming fashion, with two small ebony combs and a dozen small pearls woven into it. I looked as well as I ever had in my life, if I do say so myself.

I was so attired because I was doing something brand new, something exciting, something extraordinary, something unprecedented and stupendous in its sheer enormity. I was to have supper at the parsonage with Elizabeth Collins, and I was determined to make the most of it. I had no idea how Mrs Collins arranged it but did not care. Supper in a parsonage! Who would have thought!

What had me nearly stumbling over my own feet was the fact that I actually heard two nearly identical compliments from the last two people in the world I expected them from at almost the same time. I grant you, I rarely receive compliments that amount to more than empty flattery for a wealthy heiress from anybody; but in this particular case, the rarity of the experience was greatly enhanced because I received them from two people who rarely gave compliments to anyone—at least not within my hearing.

The first was my cousin Darcy. “Anne, you truly look lovely. That dress is beautiful, and I am certain I have never seen it before. Pray, accept my compliments, cousin.”

I curtseyed in confusion. “Thank you, Darcy. You surprise me.”

He looked pensive at that assertion, and I thought I might ask why, once we were away from Mother. Darcy rarely spoke to me at all, let alone commented on my appearance. I suspected that was because my mother would jump on such an act like a hound. She was insufferable enough with her desire for me to marry him as it was, so he tried to keep the peace by ignoring me. I thought he believed I despised him, but the fact was I had almost no opinion whatsoever. We were never close as children, since I was sick and he was in school most of the time. Once we grew up, I hardly ever left Rosings, and he became so accustomed to wandering around with a big matrimonial target on his back that he ducked and hid instinctively. I once visited town and got more emotion from a statue of Julius Caesar than I ever had from my cousin. His blank mask was particularly acute when in the company of matchmaking mamas, of whom my mother was the worst offender. I really wished he would just get married, so we might then see if we could be friends, but for the last few years, it was just easier to let him believe I disliked him. It prevented him from making things uncomfortable for me.

I almost missed his even more astounding reply. “I am lately becoming aware that my manners have room for improvement. Please do not be alarmed.”

His declaration of my purported beauty would have been shocking enough, but it became extreme due to the fact that he was followed a heartbeat later by another very similar comment from the second least likely person to engage in such flattery!

“Fitzwilliam is right, Anne. You do look lovely tonight. That dress suits you. It is very elegant, and you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

This was so extraordinary, I must repeat it a time or two, and possibly gather witnesses. My mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, complimented me on my appearance on Friday, the fourth of December in the year twelve. The world had run amok, and my mother and Darcy along with it.

Just to be clear, my mother did frequently comment on my supposed good qualities, which all purportedly were related to my breeding, but such statements were never made to me directly, and to be honest, they usually sounded like she was saying them by rote rather than out of any feeling. That night, she looked at me carefully but not critically and offered a sincere compliment at the same time as Darcy. Extraordinary!

As further proof of the insanity of the situation, my cousin was smiling, an act I would have wagered him incapable of—at least within the walls of Rosings. Whatever he had been doing the past week—and make no mistake, it was not happening at Rosings—was apparently good for him. I wanted whatever it was to continue, and of course, I mean it should continue after I got over the vapours it was likely to cause, as I would already have swooned like a damsel in distress, except it would have wrinkled my dress.

Darcy turned to my mother and said most cordially, “I apologise for being absent most of this past week, Aunt! I have been occupied with urgent business since my arrival and have neglected you; but I am happy to see you and Anne looking so well. Fear not; I will extend my stay long enough to see to any needs for you and Rosings.”

My mother had even less idea what to do with a Darcy run mad than I did, so she simply nodded and thanked him for his compliment and declaration. She did not even jump on his apparent approval of my person. She just let it go.

He carried on with his conquest. “I have a surprise for both of you, if you would care to indulge me.”