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  “You would have been correct,” replied Elizabeth. “But I have learned certain things which render my presence at Rosings desirable. In fact, I have come seeking your advice on a matter which has been troubling me.”

  “Oh?” asked Charlotte, one eyebrow raised in surprise.

  So, Elizabeth told her friend what had been happening these past weeks, informing her of her new understanding of Anne’s character. She left all mention of Mr. Darcy’s failure to attend them out as it was irrelevant, but she was careful to inform Charlotte of all her observations about Miss de Bourgh, her worries for her, and her desire that Anne become more independent.

  When she finished, Charlotte sat quietly for some moments, contemplating what Elizabeth had told her. There was little Charlotte could do—Elizabeth understood this. She simply hoped that Charlotte might have an insight that Elizabeth had not considered.

  “I am not surprised,” replied Charlotte at length. “I have always thought there was some greater depth to Miss de Bourgh that could not be seen on the surface.” Then she turned a mischievous eye on Elizabeth. “I am less surprised that you believe it your duty to rescue her from her glass prison. Is she not like the pathetic animals you always wished to help when you were a child?”

  “Charlotte!” exclaimed Elizabeth, but her friend only laughed.

  “You must own there is a similarity, Lizzy. Your romantic nature has always led you to champion the cause of the less fortunate. It is what has made you such a wonderful gentleman’s daughter, as evidenced by your care of Longbourn’s tenants. It is part of what will make you an excellent gentleman’s wife.”

  Elizabeth had never been certain she would ever marry, but she shook the thought off as irrelevant. She was not concerned with marrying, at present—the subject at hand was what to do about Anne’s situation.

  “I am not certain what you can do, Lizzy,” replied Charlotte when pressed. “It is up to Anne. While I agree with you that it would be desirable for her to learn independence, if she does not wish it, you cannot force her. The only actions you may take are to continue to encourage her.” Charlotte smiled. “If I know anything of your determination, you will be successful in goading her toward freedom.”

  “Goading her?” exclaimed Elizabeth.

  Charlotte laughed. “Is that not what it is? Lizzy Bennet does not take no for an answer. I believe, in the end, Miss de Bourgh will have little choice.”

  “I am grateful that your opinion of me is so transcendent,” replied Elizabeth, feeling cross with her friend.

  “You know I have the highest opinion of you, Lizzy. I cannot become involved, of course, for my husband would not appreciate any position in opposition to Lady Catherine. But I am happy to host you and Miss de Bourgh whenever convenient, so that you may work your magic away from Rosings.”

  “I knew you would not be able to act yourself, Charlotte,” replied Elizabeth. “I just wished for a sympathetic ear and, perhaps, a little advice.”

  “Then my advice is to continue to be her friend and show her what life can be without her domineering mother standing over her. There is nothing you can do for her which would be of greater value, I am sure.”

  With those words, Elizabeth was forced to be content, for at that moment Mr. Collins walked into the room.

  “Ah, Cousin Elizabeth,” said he as he entered, a great beaming smile fixed on her, one such as she had never thought to see, considering her refusal of his suit. “I can see you have come to visit my dear wife. How are you today?”

  “Very well, indeed, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth.

  “Excellent!” exclaimed the man. “And the fair Miss de Bourgh? I hope she is well and enjoying your company?”

  “I believe so,” replied Elizabeth. “Miss de Bourgh is napping at present, and since I was free of obligations, I had thought to visit with Charlotte. It is unfortunate my stay at your house was interrupted, but Miss de Bourgh is amiable, and I am happy to be in her presence.”

  Clearly, nothing she could have said would have been greeted with greater approval. “Yes, she is! And I am happy that you have taken so well to her company. I visit with Lady Catherine frequently, as I am certain you understand, and though the lady does not say much of how you are performing your duties, I have seen you on occasion with Miss de Bourgh, especially when you ride in her phaeton, and I can see you are getting on famously.

  “I am particularly grateful for this, as Miss de Bourgh has wanted for companionship her own age, and has benefited from your offered camaraderie. I thank you, Cousin, for being what she needs in such a trying time.”

  Though she was surprised that Mr. Collins had recognized Anne’s need for friendship, Elizabeth could only smile and acknowledge his thanks. “I am quite happy to do it, Mr. Collins. She is a wonderful girl, and I find myself quite happy to be in her presence.”

  “My dear Charlotte has also informed me that you have lengthened your stay to be of use to Miss de Bourgh.”

  “I have,” said Elizabeth.

  “That is kind of you, for I know you must long to return to your family.”

  “I do,” replied Elizabeth. “But I was happy to do it when she asked. The only part of the situation I repine is that I have not been able to visit with Charlotte nearly so much as I would have liked.”

  Mr. Collins nodded with sage agreement. “It is a pity, to be certain. But allow me to inform you now that we would be happy to extend the invitation again next year, or at any time of your choosing. We have been quite happy to have you, and I cannot but think that Miss de Bourgh will be eager to renew your friendship at that time.”

  The visit continued for some few more moments, and Elizabeth was treated to all the surreal astonishment of being the recipient of Mr. Collins’s approval. It was clear that her refusal of his suit had been forgotten, replaced with his gratitude at her ability to befriend Anne without upsetting Lady Catherine. That it made his life easier was not a fact to which Elizabeth was insensible, but though it did make her think a little better of him, she still found his society tiresome. It was not many more minutes before she excused herself to return to Rosings. In a final bit of civility, Mr. Collins offered to produce his gig and drive her back, but she was allowed to leave when she assured him she would appreciate the short walk.

  When Elizabeth returned to Rosings, she was confronted by Lady Catherine, and if Mr. Collins had witnessed it, he might not have been so confident of her favor with the great lady. She was standing by the front entrance to the estate, and Elizabeth could feel the heat of her gaze upon her as she climbed the stairs. The lady’s gaze raked over her, measured and deliberate, and when the lady’s eyes found hers, Elizabeth could see the exasperation in them.

  “I see you have been out walking again. Might I assume you have spent the whole of the afternoon wandering dirty lanes, your hair becoming disheveled in all this wind?”

  In reality, Elizabeth’s hair had not become ruffled at all, for there was only a hint of a wind. Of course, Lady Catherine would not appreciate being contradicted in such a manner.

  “I have just come from Hunsford where I visited with Charlotte and Mr. Collins. If you recall, that is the reason I came to Kent in the first place.”

  The lady sniffed with barely concealed disdain. “I suppose it is. And how are the Collinses?”

  “Very well,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins invited me to return again next year, as I have not had much time with Charlotte.”

  If possible, Lady Catherine’s gaze became even more pointed. “You are not leaving yet.”

  “Actually, my original departure date was set for next week,” replied Elizabeth, noting the lady’s increasing displeasure. “But Anne requested that I put off my departure, and I have obliged her. I shall stay for another two weeks complete.”

  At first, Lady Catherine appeared as if she would reply to Elizabeth’s suggestion that she would not stay indefinitely, but she decided not to at the last m
oment. “Thank you for your civility.”

  It was, as thanks go, rather lukewarm in nature, but it was the best Lady Catherine could muster, so Elizabeth voiced her pleasure in obliging her.

  “It seems clear that Anne enjoys your presence.”

  There was a probing quality in Lady Catherine’s statement which concerned Elizabeth. But her courage in the face of intimidation would not be suppressed, and she was able to reply:

  “I believe she does. I, in turn, have come to appreciate Miss de Bourgh very much, indeed. You should be proud, Lady Catherine, for she is a wonderful woman.”

  “Of course, she is,” snapped Lady Catherine. “With her lineage and upbringing, she could not be anything else.”

  There was nothing to say to that, so Elizabeth only nodded.

  “Very well, Miss Bennet. I only ask you refrain from scampering about the country at all hours, more likely than not returning with some impurity clinging to you. Anne is, as you must know, of very delicate health, and I will not have it compromised by your wild ways.”

  Then the lady turned and strode away, leaving Elizabeth all bemused, watching her as she departed. There was no purpose in even considering a response to Lady Catherine’s ridiculous words about Elizabeth’s habits, so she shunted them to the side. Of greater importance, it seemed like Lady Catherine was still unaware of the true state of her daughter’s friendship with Elizabeth, and for that she could only be relieved. She would not wish to consider how the lady might act, for surely she would consider Elizabeth’s actions improper, reaching for a sphere to which she had no right.

  Chapter VIII

  As the time of her residence at Rosings Park wore on, Elizabeth became aware of another problem which had begun to manifest itself. The signs of Anne’s resentment for her mother that she had noted previously were now making a more frequent appearance, and Elizabeth wondered if it might not boil over before long.

  Elizabeth could not see any way to navigate the shoals of this coming confrontation, and extricating themselves from Rosings did not seem to be an option. When she had come to Rosings and begun her campaign to see Anne become more independent, she had not considered the possibility of a falling out between mother and daughter. Rather, she had thought that if Anne showed her new confidence by degrees over time, Lady Catherine would become accustomed to it, and though she might not like it, she would accept it.

  But Anne remained stubbornly unwilling to contradict her mother, and the two ladies behaved the same way around each other as they ever had. However, Elizabeth was privy to more caustic comments the young woman made about her mother and noted annoyance simmering in her eyes when Lady Catherine made her pronouncements, particularly those that concerned Anne. It was like waiting for a volcano to erupt—the smoke was visible on the horizon, and the earth rumbled and groaned with the weight of the pressure built within. One could not be certain when the explosion would come but knew it would be spectacular when it did.

  On an evening when the three ladies retired to the sitting-room after dinner, Elizabeth began to notice the first hint of overt discord between mother and daughter. Lady Catherine had been in a foul mood that day, and though Elizabeth could not be sure, a letter clutched in her hand seemed to be the reason, leading her to wonder if Lady Catherine had once again written to Mr. Darcy and been rebuffed. Whatever the reason, there was little that could satisfy her—dinner had been overcooked and bland, the room was too cool for her comfort, and a host of other complaints issued forth from her mouth. Anne and Elizabeth attempted to ignore her by conversing between themselves quietly, but it was impossible to disregard the woman, as she demanded their attention.

  “When you are speaking in my sitting-room,” said the lady, eyeing them with displeasure, “you will speak for all the company to hear. I will not have you whispering like a pair of schoolgirls.”

  It was fortunate, indeed, that Lady Catherine could not see her daughter rolling her eyes. As it was, Lady Catherine did not allow them to respond just yet.

  “It shows a remarkable lack of manners, Miss Bennet. I am certain your mother would have taught you better. Of what have you been speaking? You must allow me my share of the conversation.”

  “I only mentioned the letter I received from my sister, Lady Catherine,” replied Elizabeth. She attempted to tamp down the annoyance by reminding herself that she certainly had not whispered to Anne when she had mentioned her sister’s letter and the lack of cheer inherent in it.

  “That is not appropriate sitting-room conversation. Why, Anne does not even know your sister, and I cannot imagine a situation in which she would ever be introduced. Do not bore her with accounts of people she cannot possibly know.”

  “On the contrary, Mother,” replied Anne, “I am interested to hear about Elizabeth’s sisters. Jane Bennet sounds like an estimable lady, and one I would consider it a pleasure to gain an introduction.”

  It was the first time Elizabeth had ever heard Anne contradict something her mother said, and she almost cringed because of it. Lady Catherine’s eyes bulged at so hearing her daughter speak, and for a moment she seemed at a loss for how to respond.

  “Of course, it is not a topic of conversation of which we can speak at length,” continued Miss de Bourgh in a more conciliatory tone. “I do not know the lady, after all. Of what would you prefer to speak, Mother?”

  Lady Catherine’s gaze was fixed on Anne, and Elizabeth could see the suspicion raining down on her. When she looked at Elizabeth herself, the expression became harder.

  “Perhaps conversation is not needed. Miss Bennet, you will oblige us by opening the pianoforte and playing until we retire.”

  Grateful the explosion had been averted for the present, Elizabeth acquiesced and sat at the instrument. She began a song with which she was familiar, and while she played she noted that Lady Catherine was speaking, and though Anne murmured a few replies here and there, for the most part she was silent. Elizabeth was uncertain Lady Catherine noted anything in her behavior, but to Elizabeth it was obvious Anne wished to be anywhere but where she was.

  At length, the pianoforte was closed, and the ladies retired. “It is time for you to go to bed, Anne,” said she in her most imperious tone. “You know you require your rest.”

  “Of course, Mother,” replied Anne.

  Lady Catherine was satisfied with that, for she led them upstairs toward their bedchambers, but as they were walking up the stairs, Anne caught Elizabeth’s eye and motioned toward her room with her head, a clear invitation for Elizabeth to join her. It was an act of furtive defiance, and one Elizabeth could not have imagined Anne perpetrating when she had come to Rosings, and for a moment Elizabeth thought to shake her head in the negative. But she was here for Anne’s benefit, not Lady Catherine’s, and Elizabeth decided to attend her friend, nodding her agreement.

  Once in her room, Elizabeth accepted Tilly’s assistance to ready herself for bed, and then dismissed the girl. She waited some few moments for her to be gone, and then went to the door, opened it a crack, and looked out into the hall. There was no one in evidence—the candles had been extinguished, and the hallway was silent, shadows running its length from the window at the far end. Taking care to remain silent, Elizabeth slipped from the room, closing the door behind her, and made her way the short distance to Anne’s door, letting herself in. Then she made her way through the sitting-room to the door of Anne’s bedchamber.

  “Elizabeth!” exclaimed Anne, though Elizabeth was grateful the girl had thought to moderate the volume of her voice. “I thought you would never come!” Anne was dressed in a nightgown and robe, the same as Elizabeth, and Laura was not in evidence.

  “I had to dress for the night and send Tilly away,” replied Elizabeth, joining Anne and sitting on the bed. “I did not wish to encounter a servant and be forced to explain why I was wandering the halls.”

  Anne nodded. “Yes, we would not wish to be discovered by my mother. She has been in high d
udgeon today; anything contrary to her designs would no doubt be looked on with extreme disapproval.”

  The exasperation and discontent were evident in Anne’s tone, and her voice was pitched higher than Elizabeth wished, especially if they meant to remain undetected.

  “Your mother will not hear us?” asked Elizabeth. “Will the light not be visible from the window?”

  “There have been times when I have kept a candle on at night,” replied Anne. She ducked her head in embarrassment. “When I was young, I was terrified of the dark, and often kept a candle burning. Mother did not mind if I kept it away from the curtains and where it would not start a fire. Though I do not do it much anymore, there are times when the flame comforts me.

  “Besides,” said Anne with a giggle, “I believe my mother sleeps very soundly. Do you know that her bedchamber is on the other side of this wall?” She brushed her knuckles against the wall behind the head of her bed. “At times, I have heard her snoring.”

  The image of a high-born lady such as Lady Catherine snoring loudly in her sleep struck Elizabeth as amusing, and the two girls descended into giggles. Of course, that was the exact moment when a snort—which must have been deafening on the other side of the wall—reached their ears and set them to laughing once again.

  “It appears you are correct,” said Elizabeth, trying to stifle her laughter.

  “Perhaps she heard us and was voicing her displeasure concerning such a notion,” said Anne.

  “Please, do not even suggest such a thing!” replied Elizabeth.

  They indulged in their mirth for some few more moments before Anne once again spoke.

  “Mother had another letter from Darcy today. He has refused to oblige her by coming here, and I do not blame him. Mother is considering going to London in order to put me in his path again.”