Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of February 24, 2002
Jump to new as of April 8, 2002
Jump to new as of April 15, 2002
The carriage rattled away to Kent. More specifically, to Hunsford.
"I think I owe you an apology, Jane."
"No, dear sister, I think it is I who should apologize for being so infinitely cold to you simply because we did not agree." Jane took her sister's hand and smiled.
"Oh, I've missed you so!" Elizabeth cried, throwing her arms around her elder sister.
Last night, Jane and Elizabeth heard a basic account of Wickham's character from Captain Harold. Though they were not able to discuss it in full detail, it was clear that the two had been acquainted for awhile and the Captain had not been very happy with the other.
"Do you suppose that Captain Harold and Mr. Darcy were ever acquainted themselves?" Elizabeth mused.
"It is possible. After all, they both know about Wickham's true nature."
"Are you still..."
"One does not give away her heart so easily that it can be taken back-"
"I'm sorry, Jane. I did not mean to offend you."
"It's not you, Lizzy. It's..." She squeezed her sister's hand to offer her reassurance before continuing. "Can I share with you my misgivings concerning Mr. Darcy?"
"But of course!" Elizabeth grinned. "What misgivings might you have concerning him? Is he not rich enough? Too rich? Tell me, do you not favor the color of his eyes? For I certainly do not."
"Lizzy..." Jane admonished. She stared out the carriage window for a few seconds before turning to Elizabeth. "He has stated, very clearly might I add, that I was not in love with him. Which is preposterous because I would know my own heart better than anyone else."
Jane paused when her sister cried out---'How superior of him to think he knows the affairs of your heart so well!' "But...could he be correct in his assumption? Could this be a passing fancy? I feel too affected to think it's merely something as childish as that, but he has suggested that these feelings were conjured up simply because he was there for me. And there is some truth in that, I suppose. He was there when I needed him. But love would not spring so suddenly from that, would it?"
"With the provocation of a handsome face, a good figure, elegance in manners, an estate in the countryside...ten thousand a year...then perhaps, it could," Elizabeth replied thoughtfully.
This left the sisters with much to think about. But instead of the strained silence that occupied them to London, this silence was much more companionable.
"There are days when Mr. Collins is so busy with his affairs and I with mine that we do not even cross paths," Lydia smiled but then, shuddered slightly. "It is no my dismay that I cannot avoid him forever. His dear patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, insists that he should sire a son. He tries to please her most desperately but finds a most unwilling participant in this scheme."
"Lydia, are you trying to say that-" Jane exclaimed.
"That this marriage has not been consummated," Lydia finished.
"For almost half a year..." Elizabeth smirked. "Clever girl!"
"Not actually clever. More like forceful," she said with a little giggle.
"Oh, Lydia, I'm sorry that you have very little company here!"
"Do not pity me, sister. Well, at least, not in that manner. Miss Anne de Bourgh is very pleasant and so is her friend. I'm afraid you won't be able to meet Estella until the end of your visit but I'm sure you will both like her very well."
Before Elizabeth could ask about Darcy's supposed fiancée, Mr. Collins ran in breathing very heavily and sweating most profusely. "My dear, Lady Catherine de Bourgh has invited us to dine at Rosings. Make haste, make haste. We must ready ourselves."
Lydia rolled her eyes and escorted her sisters away from her odious, ugh!, husband.
Anne de Bourgh was not the "frail thing" that Wickham had claimed her to be, though she was a small girl with soft features. She ignored Mr. Collins upon his entrance. Not that he noticed as he was busy kissing the ground upon which Lady Catherine stood upon.
Her greeting to the ladies was formal but once her mother's attention was captured, she spoke with greater warmth. Elizabeth noted that she was a pretty girl but for all her delicacy, not striking. She was immensely pale and her hair was almost as light as her complexion. Large hazel eyes blinked quite intelligently under blonde lashes. They were the same eyes that Darcy had but they spoke in a different manner and they were much clearer than his muddled, ever-changing colors pair.
Lady Catherine was a large woman in comparison to her daughter and very befitting as Mr. Collins' patroness. She patronized the Bennet women, causing Anne to blush from time to time on account of her mother's rudeness. Her features had harden throughout time though they were never as delicate or as beautiful as her dead younger sister's. She was possibly handsome in her youth but time had not been kind to her.
"What do you think of Rosings?" Elizabeth whispered.
"It is very elegant. I have never dined at such an exquisite table."
"Yes, it is quite overwhelming."
Jane smiled. She knew her sister did not mean this as a compliment. Rosings was far too...expensive and gaudy.
"Lizzy, do you remember that man's name? The one who came to Netherfield with Mr. Bingley?"
Casting a side-long glance at a frozen Jane, Elizabeth replied calmly, "I do believe his name is Darcy."
"Indeed! That is my cousin!" smiled Anne.
"Really?" Elizabeth inquired with what she hoped to be an interested nod in her direction.
"Yes, he will be arriving tomorrow with my other cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. What a happy coincidence!"
"And Anne has been telling me that they are quite fun. It's a shame I'm married for you two know how I love a man in regimentals!" Though Lydia said this in a stage whisper, her sisters noticed the sadness in her eyes.
Anne, however, continued. "I always look forward to their visits. Colonel Fitzwilliam is very pleasant but I can hardly wait to see Fritz---that's Mr. Darcy, I mean. He's very wicked!"
"Wicked?" Jane asked, slightly shocked, knowing that she would've been more than slightly shock if she were not already shocked by his coming and his coming within a day.
"Oh, I don't mean wicked like that. Indeed, how could I welcome a cousin who is wicked in such a way? I only mean that...well, you'll see when he arrives," Anne ended mysteriously.
"Are you drunk, man?!"
"Noo....of course not," Bingley slurred before collapsing on the floor.
Darcy shook his head. Was this the third or fourth time this week? He walked out of the study and called for Miss Bingley.
"Yes, Mr. Darcy?" she cooed.
"It seems that your brother is quite intoxicated...again," he replied evenly.
Caroline scowled. She didn't know what to do with her younger brother anymore. He had been in a sorry state for months and instead of rising over his melancholy as he was wont to do, he got worse. In the past two weeks, he was often found in some odd position in a random room with a liquor bottle in his hand.
"I'll see to it," she replied.
"Thank you. I will return once more before I leave. I can trust you to watch over him?"
The last part sounded vaguely like a question, but Caroline chose to ignore it.
Darcy left the Bingley townhouse to pick up Colonel Fitzwilliam.
"Aunt Catherine says they're nothing but worthless scum!"
"And when do you listen to what my mother has to say?" Anne countered.
Instead of answering, Henry continued to scold his much younger cousins. "Well, this is a fine thing, isn't it? The future heir of Pemberley and the future heiress of Rosings! Running around with servants! It's a shame to the Fitzwilliam name!"
"I thought you were a shame to the Fitzwilliam name."
"Shut up, Will! You know nothing of this world."
"And I suppose you're the expert."
"Don't be so impertinent." Henry wagged his finger at the two of them. "The right connections are important and I can tell you that your current connections will be your downfall. What is Uncle George thinking? Allowing the two of you to do as you please! I suspect he encourages it."
Will grabbed the lapels of Henry's fine, black riding coat. "Do not insult my father."
Henry easily disengaged himself from Will. "Stupid boy."
"Hello Henry," Darcy said coolly.
"Will," Henry nodded as he passed his cousin in the hall. "Are you here for Richard?"
"I'm certainly not here for you," Darcy replied.
Henry Fitzwilliam opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it. Darcy was never this rude unless there was something troubling him, and Henry knew very well that he was the least likely person for Darcy to open up to. He nodded again and strode purposely away.
"That sounded mean, Darce."
"It was not meant to sound nice," he replied, rubbing his temples with his index fingers and thumbs.
"Something troubling you?"
"Bingley. And women."
"Women are always troubling you. What is this about Bingley?"
"Perhaps we should've taken him with us," Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed as he sat back on the carriage seat.
"I'm sure he would've been more inclined to be under the condescension of our dear Aunt Cathy. How dull of me for not suggesting this to his unconscious form," replied Darcy drolly.
"At least he wouldn't be miserably drunk every moment. There's no spirits in that household except for what we sneak in each year."
"Then he would simply be miserable."
"Well this is entirely your fault, Darce. You make love to women without knowing it."
"That's nonsense!"
Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. "Of course it is, I have never seen a gentleman so distant as you when a pretty, rich girl smiles and bats her eyes."
"I have no interest in marriage."
"Of course not. You're still young, but within the next few years..."
"I have no interest in marriage," Darcy repeated with a pout.
"Now stop acting like a seven-year old. I'll give you a biscuit if you're good."
"Shut up, Richard. Shut up."
"I can't face him!" came the muffled cry.
"You shall have to face him sometime, my dear. You might as well do something nice with your hair so he can regret ever refusing you."
Jane threw off her blanket and rolled off the bed. "Oh, my hair! It must look like a haystack!"
"I do not understand what the problem is."
"There is no problem at all. I simply forgot I had business to attend to."
"That's silly, man!" Colonel Fitzwilliam had to fight the urge to slap his cousin with his glove.
"Put your glove back on," Anne admonished.
Darcy turned to glare at his cousin who was sheepishly replacing his glove upon his hand. He said slowly, "It's not silly at all. I was preoccupied with thoughts concerning Bingley and forgot about this blasted business in London."
"Preoccupied with thoughts of Bingley, eh?"
"Anne..."
"We've just arrived, Darce. There is no need for you to go rushing off. At any rate, Anne has informed us that some lovely ladies shall be having tea here. Are you not even curious about them?"
"Oh, he's already met the Bennets."
"Indeed! You've never mentioned that."
Darcy purposely ignored Richard and strode up the stairs, leaving a befuddled pair of cousins behind. Well, one befuddled cousin. Anne was rather disinterested-- "Darcy is always sporadic and I will, by no means, waste time on figuring the way the nut bounces in his head."
Colonel Fitzwilliam was further confused.
Darcy entered his room as his valet was unpacking his trunks.
"Take your time with that, Fez. I'm heading back to London."
"Back to London?! But you-"
"Yes, yes, yes. I've only just arrived." Darcy laid haphazardly across his bed. He looked at his trusted valet who cocked his head at his master in return. Darcy kicked up his long legs and somersaulted backwards to a standing position. "Maybe I should escape through the window."
"Do you have any need for it? Or do you simply want to frustrate your relatives?"
"The latter."
"Why don't you just slide down the banister and be off with you?" suggested Fez, who attained his nickname when young Master Darcy, at age nine, had not liked the stuffy Felix that was applied to his valet's person. Though Fez did note, his name was not as stuffy as Fitzwilliam. At which point, the latter countered that no one except stuffy relatives called him by his first full name unless they were rather angry at him. And then...but I digress, that's another story.
"I suppose," Darcy mumbled, pretending to give consideration to Fez's counsel but already agreeing to it nonetheless. He then explained, "Anne is having the parson's wife, Mrs. Collins, along with their visiting cousins, the Bennets, for tea this very afternoon."
"Ahh," replied a knowing Fez. He nodded at his master and opened the door for him. "You best leave as soon as possible."
"I'm glad you can part from my company so easily," mocked Darcy. He walked into the hall and called down to Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Richard! RICHARD!"
"What?" came the distant cry.
At this, Darcy flung one leg over the banister and slid down the waxed surface. Near the end, he hopped off efficiently, sliding somewhat on the marble floor of Rosings.
"Hello there..."
Darcy paid Anne no mind as he was wont to do but straightened his clothes instead. When he did look up, the humiliation of his stunt hit him full force but years of practice schooled his features into indifference. "Mrs. Collins, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth. I see you ladies have arrived for tea...already. Excuse me."
He thus walked out of Rosings, leaving behind a considerably confused Colonel Fitzwilliam, a laughing Anne de Bourgh, a Lydia Collins who was torn between astonishment and a fit of giggles, a completely stunned Jane Bennet and an utterly speechless Elizabeth Bennet.
"He's always a surprise, isn't he?" Anne said when she had managed to control her laughter.
"One might say that," muttered the Colonel.
Lydia, being the first visitor to gain her senses, inquired, "Do you mean to say Mr. Darcy does...odd things like this often?"
"Very often," cried Anne happily, grabbing Lydia's arm and escorting her to the parlor. Jane and Elizabeth followed without much thought, still considering the scene they had previously witnessed. This left Colonel Fitzwilliam in the hall, who felt stupid standing there on his own and decided to go outside.
"I understand from Lydia that my cousin was quite uncivil when he visited Hertfordshire last year," Anne stated as she took a seat. She knew very well that Darcy couldn't possibly be in a good mood during that time of year but she wanted to know all the details nonetheless.
"Very much so," replied Elizabeth at the same time Jane responded with an opposite report.
Lydia smiled. "Elizabeth tends to be too severe while Jane can see nothing but good in everyone. I suppose, for a true report, you shall have to ask Mr. Darcy himself."
"He is only forthcoming when he wants to be and he shall not be forthcoming about this, I'm sure. Colonel Fitzwilliam is quite the opposite. He blurts everything out. Whether he means to or not."
"He is quite handsome," commented Lydia with a youthful glitter in her eye. He wasn't Wickham and he was certainly not Darcy but he had a charming smile and good strong features.
Anne rolled her eyes. "Richard has it over his brother but neither of them are quite as handsome as the Earl. Their mother is a wonderful lady, to be sure, but very, very plain."
"Beauty is certainly not everything."
"Beauty is nothing, Miss Elizabeth, if you do not have the eyes to see it. I have often noted that, with every visit Aunt Rebecca pays me, she grows fairer."
"But you call her plain."
Anne tilted her head to the side. "No, I believe I said, 'very, very plain.' You never heard the adjectives I previously used to describe her."
Elizabeth smirked at this reply. "And why does your aunt visit you? Do you not visit her?"
"I do love intellectual conversation!" Anne cried with a clap of her hands. "You have noted a slip in my words but it is as intentional as it is not. I suppose, I was only being truthful. My aunt pays me visits, but I cannot repay the calls made to me. My mother thinks me too weak for travel. She thinks me too weak for a great many things. It is only because I am so small. Fritz used to sneak me off to London, giving my mother all these reasons for me to be there. He quite charms her, even when he has no intention of doing it. But so he does to many." Jane almost dropped her tea but Anne continued, pretending she took no note of it. "She thinks him highly proper and willing to marry me as to unite our two estates. That will be the day."
"I take it you two are not engaged," Elizabeth stated warily.
"My cousin and I understand one another very well," Anne smiled. "We grew up together, both despising the burden of our birth, both naturally shy but willing to break out in some manner or another, and both in love with acting with wild abandon. We dare less in our maturity which is a true shame. No, Miss Elizabeth, we are not engaged and I imagine, we should drive one another mad if we were united for our entire mortal lives. There is a problem with being too much alike."
"And there is one with being too little alike," muttered Lydia, clearly referring to her own husband.
"I find it hard to picture Mr. Darcy acting with wild abandon but considering the display..."
"He certainly wouldn't have done that if he knew of any visitors," Anne replied dismissively. "It was for the Colonel's benefit. Richard is our senior by several years and was away at school when we were growing up. He missed much of our...disregard for propriety."
"I did not think the Colonel was so old!" cried Lydia.
"Old? What makes you think him old? He is nearly twice your age but it is only because you are so young."
"Is not Colonel Fitzwilliam some years older than both you and Mr. Darcy? That is what you said."
"He is five years my senior and seven years Darcy's."
"Seven years?" Elizabeth inquired, leaning forward, one eyebrow arched.
"How old might you think Darcy is, Miss Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth and the rest of the ladies swiveled around upon hearing this new voice. Colonel Fitzwilliam was leaning against the doorframe with a frown creasing his brow.
"Richard! How very naughty of you to eavesdrop so!"
"I did no such thing, cousin. I was only walking by when someone stated, very audibly, might I add, that I was old."
"Colonel, I myself doubt that you are above two-and-thirty but how young can you be when Mr. Darcy is seven years your junior?" Lydia asserted in her defense. She did not want the handsome officer to think ill of her. Though it mattered not.
"Well, then I shall restate my previous question. Miss Elizabeth, with complete disregard to how old I might possibly be, how old would you say Darcy is?"
"Thirty," she replied readily.
Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes widen considerably while Anne broke out in hysterical laughter. The former looked at Elizabeth and cried, "Heaven help you, madam, if Darcy ever heard you say that!"
"Keep us in suspense no longer! How old is he?" Lydia exclaimed, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.
"I am thirty, Mrs. Collins. I am thirty."
"That makes him three-and-twenty," Jane uttered in surprise.
"Indeed it does."
"Why, he is merely one year my senior!"
"Is that a problem?"
Jane blushed at this. "Of course not."
Anne observed this exchange with sharp eyes. She easily concluded that Fritz was avoiding Miss Jane Bennet and he was unlikely to return for the duration of her visit. Without Darcy around, she might as well enjoy another's company. "Lydia, with my dear cousin away, we shall have to invite Estella Crane to complete the party."
"Estella! Oh, how I long to see her!"
"My apologies, Colonel, but it seems as though you shall be overpopulated by women."
"I shall have to tolerate it, I suppose," he replied in a grave voice though one could not wipe that silly smile off his face for the rest of the day.
Between the two Bennet sisters, it had been discussed what an odd pairing Lady Anne de Bourgh of Rosings would have made with the Lydia of old and how it was still so with the Lydia of new. Their relationship, however, was asserted to be very sincere and approved of in all respects.
"But what of her companionship with Estella Crane?"
It was late in the evening when Jane and Elizabeth sat on the former's bed to discuss the new arrival. Lydia had retired long before, feigning a headache. Mr. Collins was...well, no one cared enough to consider.
"I find it rather odd...even for Lydia Collins. But she is a very good sort of girl," Jane replied.
"A very good sort of girl! I should think there must be something terribly wrong with her she is so good!"
Jane laughed at this but acknowledged the truth in her sister's words. Estella Crane, even upon a one-day acquaintance, was asserted as the epitome of grace and sophistication. She was warm and polite, charming as she was incredibly beautiful. She even outshone all the Bennet daughters in each of their most individualized beauty. Jane's pale skin, slender form and graceful movements did not compare. Elizabeth's raven hair was not nearly as dark. Mary's hands, the sisters agreed, were not nearly so slim and they certainly did not fly across the keys of the pianoforte so well. Even Kitty's blue eyes did not hold so much beauty. And Lydia herself declared that she would never be noticed next to Estella, unless a man's eyes strayed towards the bosom. She said this in a quiet whisper, of course. Lydia Bennet, Elizabeth was sure, would have declared it in her shrillest voice and in not so delicate terms.
"I am sure Mr. Darcy would not have found such important business in London if my name were Estella Crane."
"Oh, Jane!"
"I am quite serious, Lizzy," Jane laughed. "Did you see the way Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at her?"
"Indeed I did. He kept walking into objects all evening!"
"He stumbled over Mr. Collins at least three times."
"And into the wall just as many."
"He seems to be quite smitten with her," Jane sighed, lying back on her bed.
After a pause, Elizabeth spoke up. "How does your heart fare, dear sister?"
"Much better. I suppose Mr. Darcy was right. I cannot be sure but...it seems ridiculous, does it not? I claimed to love him in Hertfordshire but here in Kent, I find that I barely know this man. The person that Anne talks of is not the one I know."
"He is rather complicated."
"I am not one to fall in love with a puzzle."
"You cannot help who you fall in love with."
Jane lifted an eyebrow at her younger sister. "Are you encouraging me?"
"Nothing of the sort. I only want you to be happy."
"If only I could figure out how happiness is to be attained," she replied with a yawn.
"There is nothing to worry about, Estella. We shall have a wonderful time and no one will be the wiser." Anne grasped her friend's elbow while she skipped across the grounds of Rosings Park.
"This is such an unnecessary risk."
"Nonsense. There is no risk at all."
"You are far too confident and therefore, far too careless."
"Oh, if isn't the dear Colonel with Mrs. Collins and the Bennets!" she smiled wickedly and greeted them with a jubilant shout.
"Estella!" Lydia walked briskly to Anne's companion.
"Lydia, you look very well this morning."
"You haven't looked in the mirror today, have you?" Lydia shook her head. "I thought as much or you wouldn't have said such a thing." She then bent close to Estella and whispered in her ear. "The Colonel has had nothing but the best things to say about you all day! As a matter of fact, he hasn't spoken about anything else."
Anne couldn't see Estella's face but she knew it to be as unhappy as hers. It was no surprise to the future lady of the estate that her cousin was so infatuated by Estella's grace but she did worry over his growing interest.
"Miss Crane, you look absolutely exquisite," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a bow, offering her his arm.
"When did you learn such a complicated word as exquisite, Richard?" Anne took the proffered arm, making her cousin scowl darkly.
"Shall we have tea at the Parsonage?" Lydia chirped.
The group assented to the scheme and thus, headed towards Hunsford, traveling in pairs. The Colonel and Anne lead the way, followed by Estella and Lydia with the Bennet sisters trailing behind.
"You have Richard, mother."
"Oh...yes. But why must Darcy's business take him away from you at this time?"
How subtle, Anne thought, rolling her eyes. Though Anne sat beside her mother dutifully, she was hardly listening to anything the matriarch had to say. She might've made the proper response from time to time but knew that if she remained silent, her mother would continue the conversation without her. And there was always Mr. Collins to distract Lady Catherine as he drooled on her feet. This gave Anne ample opportunity to observe her friend and cousin across the room at the pianoforte.
"Allow me to turn the pages for you."
"Thank you, Colonel," Estella replied quietly.
"Oh, do play something lively!" pleaded Lydia from where she sat on the sofa with her sisters.
"If it pleases you," Estella replied, her fingers rapidly flying across the keys in a jaunty tune.
"You are such a wonderful player," crowed the Colonel.
"I make my mistakes, sir. Surely you note the way I'm slurring through this verse."
"Indeed, I do not! You must've made your music teacher quite proud with your talent."
"I do believe I frustrated him beyond words. He was not a patient teacher and I was not a patient learner."
"Surely you jest," he chuckled.
"Not at all. I am perfectly serious. Perhaps too serious."
This remark puzzled the Colonel but he was too dazzled by her to make any further comment. He merely smiled.
Anne could not hear the conversation from where she sat but noted the lack of expression on Estella's face and Richard's oblivious smile. She did not like it at all.
"Anne!"
"Yes, mother?"
Lady Catherine had followed her daughter's gaze when she had not answered a direct question concerning matrimony. She sharply assessed the situation before her, as though she never noticed it before. "It would be wise of Estella Crane to accept Richard's proposal."
"Excuse me?"
"Do not insult my intelligence, girl! The way your cousin looks at her. It is almost sickening. He is the son of an Earl. Perhaps a second son, but his consequence is much greater than hers. Why, Estella Crane has nothing attached to her," she sniffed, turning away from them and looking with narrowed eyes at Anne. "But she has a good chance to rise to the position of a Colonel's wife with her charms. Make sure she is not so stupid as to say no."
"I will do nothing of the sort," Anne seethed. If only you knew, mother! If only you knew!
"Mark my words, Anne, she shall accept him."
"She does not love him! They barely know one another. You cannot expect such."
"Love! What does that matter? She has no background to speak of. A mere orphan. Granted, she is living on a sum of thirty thousand pounds but what of her connections? She has none."
"Her connections do not matter. She has no need for them."
"Where in the world did you get these romantic notions from, Anne? Certainly not from me!"
"Certainly not, mother. Certainly not."
Lady Catherine was silent from a moment. Mr. Collins thus took the opportunity to agree with her but found he met resistance. She had enough of his groveling for tonight. She stood up and dismissed her guests by calling the carriages. It was to her dismay however that the carriages would not be carrying Estella Crane from her house as she was Anne's personal guest.
"Perhaps you shouldn't propose at all."
The Colonel's head snapped up. "Anne."
"If you can't satisfy yourself with the address, then you're thinking too much of it," she muttered, sitting on the sofa.
"What would you have me do?" he cried, rolling his eyes. "Not think about it? I'll sound like a blubbering idiot."
"You do anyway."
Richard chose to ignore her, but Anne persisted. "What is your interest in marrying her?"
"You do not know? She's beautiful!"
"Is that the only reason?" Anne replied with an arch of her eyebrow.
"Of course not. She is the most charming creature that I've ever had the honor to know and it would be of great pleasure to me if she would consent to be my wife."
"You know nothing about her. She has been here but a week. You're in love with an image you have created or suppose is there and she knows that."
"Are you trying to suggest that she would not accept me?"
"I am trying to suggest that if you feel with your heart, then follow it. If you do not, listen to reason."
Fitzwilliam seemed to ponder this for a moment before he burst into speech. "How can you put time constraints on love? Tell me, Anne! What difference does it make if I've known her for a week or a lifetime?"
"Everything."
"That's ridiculous!"
"No, it is you who is ridiculous!" Anne stood up and lifted her chin defiantly towards her much taller cousin. "You talk about this as though it's poetry. It's not poetry, Richard! And I'll tell you why that is. You feel poetic now, surrounded, lost, absorbed or whatever it is by her beauty, her compassion, her amiability, the things that are merely on the touch of the surface, but-"
"I don't see how you can classify her nature as-"
Already anticipating her cousin's argument, Anne cut in. "You only know what she has shown you by choice. You know nothing of what must be pried out of the very depths of her soul. Do you understand that, Richard? You know nothing. You know nothing of who she truly is."
"I know everything that I want to know. I know that I desire her hand in marriage."
"Oh, you are such a boor!" cried a frustrated Anne. "You are merely infatuated and do not have the sense to realize it!"
The Colonel looked at Anne sharply, lurching forward as though he were about to strike her. Instead, he rolled his shoulders back and said coldly, "You are merely jealous, dear cousin."
"Pray, jealous of what?" she replied evenly.
"Of my attentions to her. I remember when you and Darcy used to fight for my attention." Colonel Fitzwilliam sniffed disdainfully. "But people grow up, Anne. And I simply have no more time for you."
Anne turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her. "People do grow up, Richard. It seems as though you haven't."
"What were you thinking, you stupid girl?"
As though she didn't have enough arguments that day, Anne was finally cornered by Darcy's valet after meticulously avoiding him for a week. "How dare you speak to me like that!" she scowled, looking remarkably like her mother.
"I dare because you are nothing but a stupid, stupid girl. What was your intention? To fix things?"
"I suggest you get out of my way, Fez. This is none of your business."
"When it involves my master, it is my business."
"Felix! Step away from my daughter!" Lady Catherine cried, brandishing her walking cane. "You're a servant. You know better than to...to even speak to her!"
"It's perfectly alright, mother," Anne said, rolling her eyes.
"My nephew may allow you to do as you please, act like you're one of us, pretend as though you're an equal, but I will not tolerate it. Do you hear me?" Lady Catherine screeched, ignoring her daughter's earlier comment.
"Aunt Catherine," came a stony voice.
This caused everyone to pause and turn toward the latest addition of the party.
Anne yelped, distraught over everything as it was, and ran up the stairs. Fez bowed to his master while Lady Catherine turned to her nephew, ready to advise him on the manner in which he should discipline his servants.
"Fez, you are dismissed." His valet attempted to comment but Darcy would have none of it. He required his aunt's full attention.
Colonel Fitzwilliam found Estella in the gardens, bending over the roses. He inhaled deeply, then, took a moment to take in her beauty before approaching her.
"Miss Crane," the Colonel whispered, his heart beating in his throat.
The gravity of his voice startled her, but she acknowledged him with a polite nod.
"Might..." he cleared his throat. "Might I speak with you?"
"As you please, Colonel," she replied, fingering a red rose in full bloom. She hardly looked at him except a few furtive glances. He was standing very still, barely moving, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
"You are truly beautiful," he finally breathe.
"Thank you..." she replied slowly. "I do not deserve such a compliment."
In a moment, Richard Fitzwilliam was on his knees, grasping tightly to her white hands. "Oh, but you do, my dear, dear Estella, you do."
"Colonel Fitzwilliam, please restrain yourself!" she cried, trying to pull away. She had been wary of the Colonel and his obvious interest in her but had scoffed at anyone who had the audacity to hint of a proposal from that quarter.
"I cannot help the way I feel," he lamented, kissing her captured hands. "You are everything that is good and wonderful."
"And beautiful, Colonel?" she squinted, still unsuccessful in freeing herself.
"Yes, and beautiful! You are a goddess on Earth. I am unworthy of you but if you consent to be my wife, I shall spend my entire life making myself worthy of you."
"I beg of you, Colonel. Stand up! This is nonsense you speak of. If you can only listen to the silliness you have just expressed," she said with a sigh.
Before the Colonel could reply, Mr. Collins was seen or rather, heard, running towards them. (If one could consider his rapid waddling as an action that could be interpreted as running.) He halted beside the startled couple. Lydia and the Bennet sisters followed some meters behind.
"Mr. Collins, remove yourself at once! You are interrupting the Colonel's beautiful proposal!" Lydia screeched at a volume that would've made her mother proud.
"Will everyone stop saying beautiful?" Estella muttered with a roll of her eyes.
Mr. Collins, sweating profusely and his breath coming laboriously, clung onto the Colonel's sleeve and implored in short gasps, "Oh, nephew...of the my- kind....dear, and so wonderful...patron-patroness, please...oh! you cannot marry this woman."
"And why is that?" the Colonel snapped impatiently.
"She...is so...be-below you," he cried, his eyes wide.
"And you are below me, Mr. Collins. Much below me. But I have the misfortune of being married to you, nevertheless!" Lydia rushed forward and grabbed his ear, pulling him away from the officer. He howled with pain but continued his pleas. "Ignore him the best you can. Please carry on!"
Her sisters shuffled forward to aid Lydia in her endeavors of removing her husband from the premises. Jane and Elizabeth gave the pair apologetic smiles, but only received astonished blinks from the Colonel and Estella. So startled were they that they had unconsciously retained the position in which Collins found them in. The Colonel on one knee, holding Estella's hands. This was the same position in which Anne found them in as she turned the corner and witnessed the scene before her.
She said not a word and continued to remain silent when she was bumped into.
"My lord!" Not even his skill as a servant could restrain the outburst. Fez was utterly witless, the color draining fast from his face but not as fast as it was from that of Estella's. Fez had the advantage of knowing she was here. She did not have the advantage of knowing that he was about Rosings and the other knowledge which he retained, though one could argue whether that was an advantage or not.
She heard his baritone voice, addressing his valet, before she laid eyes on him for the first time in three years, three years that had been nothing but a wretchful eternity of recollecting. The moment itself seemed to be as long, her own heart rising to her throat as the Colonel's had. He came around the corner before she even thought of taking a breath. His hazel eyes went straight to her and whatever words that were on his lips faded into the air.
A man with curly blond hair and dull blue eyes appeared behind him but she scarcely noticed him.
The air seemed to quiver with anticipation. She felt as though she were floating, outside herself. She knew the Colonel had risen to his feet and thrown his arms down in exasperation but she was barely aware of anything beyond those eyes, those same eyes which she used to decipher for hours only to come up terribly short.
"Darcy. Bingley. This is a surprise. I must say, the entire bloody day has been quite astonishing," Colonel Fitzwilliam said with an edge in his voice.
"One could say that," Darcy replied slowly, his gaze still fixed on those stormy blue eyes.
She finally stepped forward, slowly, cautiously, as though doubting the very ground below her feet. "Fritz..." her lips parted like a red rose in bloom.
"Winter."