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Authors: JUDITH BROCKLEHURST

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T
HE NEXT DAY, COLONEL FITZWILLIAM RETURNED. LADY Catherine, he said, was well and in good spirits, and sent proper messages to everyone. Sitting beside Anne, at their midday cold collation, he quietly told her, “I had no trouble in bringing her round, cousin, over the matter of your inheritance.”

“I thought she would be very angry. How did you do it?” “I told her how wise she was, to do as she has done. I told her that she had shown very good judgment in entrusting you now with the bequest, for she obviously knew the difficulties that young women, with no experience in handling money, often have when they marry; and I reminded her that at that point there will be a large fortune to be managed. I happened to mention this in the Pump room, in the company of her friends, who smiled, and agreed, and mentioned several instances of young married women of very good families who had run into debt. She could hardly admit, in front of them, that she had been forced into doing what she did; and she did not at all object to their being reminded that she is a very wealthy woman. Now she regards it, first, as a settled thing, second, as a thing admired by people she respects, and third, as something she thought of herself. I am an army man, remember,” he said, Smiling. “There are tricks that work very well when one is dealing with senior officers.”

The conversation became general, and he explained that he had stayed overnight in order to dine, at his aunt's invitation, with the Duchess of Stilbury, and her brother, Lord Francis Meaburn. Lady Catherine, he said, was in very good spirits; and, he added, was dressed exactly like the Duchess, that is, in the very latest fashion. He thought her petticoats might be a little thicker than was generally worn, but she had a huge poke bonnet, and a pair of black and yellow boots. She and the Duchess were the best of friends, and the rest of the town, both visitors and residents, looked up to them with awe. “I should like to know what Meaburn thinks of it all, though,” he said. “He is not the kind of man to sit down in a small spa town, drinking the waters and going to bed at eleven, because he loves his sister; he is more of a Brighton man.”

“I fancy,” Darcy said, “that money might have something to do with it.”

“I think it has everything to do with it,” agreed Fitzwilliam. “He was a Colonel in the—th, you know. I know some of the officers in that regiment, and I remember they told me that his extravagance was unbelievable. Eventually he was forced to sell out, because his gaming debts were so huge.”

“Did he not marry Lord W——'s daughter?”

“He did. They say he had run through all her money by the time she died. But tell me, cousin, what has become of Dawson? there was a sour-faced woman in her place. Did she leave your mother's employment?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Anne. “If you remember, whenever we went anywhere my mother would have her sit on the box, and she was always quite willing. As it turned out, she was in love with the coachman; we could hear the two of them, laughing. Then he left, and she eloped with him. My mother does not like to have new people around her, so she promoted Mullins, who was the sewing maid before. I was sorry, for Dawson was very good-natured, and Mullins is not.”

The languor of the day after a ball was being felt; Lady Louisa had left, and no one wanted to walk. They were sitting on the terrace, when a servant came and said that Mrs Caldwell was wanted. She returned looking rather flustered.

“My dear,” she said to Anne, “There is something—I do not know what you will think, but my son has sent a gift for you. But he says that if you do not like it, it is to be sent back.”

“A gift for Anne?” said Georgiana. “But what is it? And where is it?” and they looked round, expecting to see a parcel.

“It must be a book,” said Anne, trying to speak calmly. “We were speaking of several titles that—but he offered to lend them— there is no need, Mrs Caldwell, I will return it.”

“No,” said Mrs Caldwell, “It is not a book. It is—it is in the stable yard. And if—if Mr and Mrs Darcy do not quite like it, it is to be sent back.”

By this time, the curiosity of the rest of the party had been thoroughly aroused, and everyone wanted to see the mysterious object. They all accompanied Anne to the stable yard, Mr Darcy enquiring rather anxiously if his friend had given his cousin a horse? A groom was standing there, holding a swathed bundle.

“Are you not Mr Caldwell's servant?” Mr Darcy asked. “Hinkins, is it not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, Hinkins, what have you got for us?”

The groom knelt down, opened the bundle, and put a small, white and brown puppy on the ground.

“Oh!” screamed Georgiana. “Oh! Anne!”

Anne fell on her knees. The little creature wagged its tail, and licked her hand. All the women made the kind of noises that ladies make, confronted with anything small and endearing. She patted it, and bent over it, trying to hide her face, for tears had sprung to her eyes.

“It be what they call a King Charles, sir,” the groom said.

“It will not grow very large, will it?” Darcy asked.

“No, sir. Quite small, they are. Not near so big as a regular spaniel.”

“And quite useless, I suspect.”

“No good for hunting, sir, they be a lady's dog, like—a pet.”

“A letter came, too,” Mrs Caldwell said. “My son says, 'Tell Miss de Bourgh that she does not walk enough, and Minette will see to it that she takes a walk every day.'”

“But…” said Mrs Darcy, glancing doubtfully at her husband, “I do not know whether…”

Anne, still kneeling, looked up at her over the little creature's head. Elizabeth saw her face, saw her tears, and read the whole story in her eyes.

“I know about it,” her husband said to her privately, later. “Caldwell came to me the morning he left. He has behaved very well. But I did not know, and neither, I think, did he, that it had gone so far with her.”

“We cannot do other,” Elizabeth said, “than let her keep the dog. It is the saddest thing!”

“I hate small dogs,” Darcy said. “How could this happen? They have only known each other a week or so.”

“I saw his face last night, while she was reading. And how long did it take you, to make up your mind about me?”

“I do not know. But I am sure that, after the ball at Netherfield, if I had not seen you again, it would all have been over. If you had not come to Hunsford while I was staying with my aunt…”

“So do you think,” said Elizabeth, “that if they do not meet again, it will be forgotten?”

“Caldwell knows that it would be a most unsuitable match. If he has made up his mind, he will make no attempt to see her. As for her, I do not know.”

“Nor I,” said Elizabeth. “I think she is a girl who feels things very deeply; I think none of us knows her. But I know that this business has hurt her.”

“I am sorry for it. But who could have known? I know one thing: I do not like the idea of sending her back to Rosings to pine. Perhaps her mother, even after she goes home, would allow Anne to make her home with us for a while. Meanwhile, this makes it all the more necessary to find someone suitable to marry her. A man of character would certainly not agree to go and live at Rosings, and Anne would have her own home, which is what she needs. Let me see, did not Sir Matthew Brocklebank dance with her the other night? He has no money, but there is the title, and he is a pleasant-looking fellow.”

“But he can talk of nothing but horses,” Elizabeth protested. “He never opens a book. If he knew that Anne is writing one, he would be too frightened to speak to her, let alone ask her to marry him.”

“There was Mr Kirkman, he is bookish enough. A widower, but that might suit Anne very well; she is not so young, now. There are few men of five-and-twenty still unmarried.”

“But she is becoming quite pretty, I think, with those large dark eyes and her chestnut hair. There is a bronze-green silk being made up for her, for Lady Louisa's ball; I think she will look quite lovely in it.”

“How about that older brother who is staying at the Rectory with Mr Granby? He will inherit the baronetcy one day.”

“Yes, and it would be pleasant to have her married to the Rector's brother,” said Elizabeth. “But although Anne danced with all three of them, I do not believe she even noticed them. And meanwhile, I think we must let her keep the dog, for she needs something to love.”

“I can see very well that Georgiana will want one, too. It is very unjust that a man should have his house filled with small animals, only because his cousin is crossed in love.”

In view of the size of Pemberley, Elizabeth thought this something of an exaggeration, and said so.

“Oh, very well, very well; since she and Georgiana have been playing with the creature all evening, I suppose it must stay,” Darcy said, resignedly. “It could be worse; at least Caldwell had the sense not to give her a pug.”

N
OW THAT SHE HAD SOME MONEY, ANNE WAS ABLE TO BE generous with the servants, and it was not hard to find a footman who liked dogs, and was happy to care for Minette. Anne quickly learned the advantage of having a dog: she must walk now, whether she would or no; if the little creature did not have its exercise, it would not be healthy. Three days later, it was wet and showery; they did not ride, but Minette must have her walk. Anne came in, a little damp but smiling, to find that Miss Rackham had arrived to spend the day with Georgiana, and the Caldwells were making ready to depart.

“My dear,” Mrs Caldwell said, “would you do us a very great favour? Would you lend us the sheets of your story, as far as has been read to this point? We will take very great care of them, and return them in a short while; but we would so much like to read them again.”

Anne agreed readily, delighted to find that her story had such a power of commanding interest, and knowing that with such people as these, her precious manuscript would be safe. She would have liked to ask if Edmund might be interested to read it, but could not trust her voice in asking. She bade them farewell with real regret.
These people,
she thought,
would have been my family.

Scarcely had the sound of their carriage ceased to be heard down the avenue, than the noise of another could be heard approaching. Anne, feeling that she wanted solitude, instantly resolved to take refuge in the library. Soon she was at her table, and Minette, dry and warm, was in the basket provided for her. Mr Bennet, with the same instinct, had made for his armchair; they never disturbed each other. But Minette would not stay in the basket, and whined to be picked up. Only to keep her quiet, Anne took the little dog onto her knee, and sat, stroking its warm, silky coat. She had seldom held a little creature like this before, and never for very long. The sensation was delightful. And Minette was her own, her very own! Only Edmund, she thought, could have made her such a perfect gift. Only Edmund… but her thoughts were interrupted. The butler approached: “If you please, miss, there are some visitors here, who are asking for you.”

“Who is it, Forrest?”

“The Duchess of Stilbury, miss, and Lord Francis Meaburn. Mr and Mrs Darcy are with them, and Miss Georgiana, but they have asked for you especially.”

“Of course, they are acquainted with my mother. I will come at once.”

It was strange, but she felt perfectly capable, now, of meeting with complete strangers. Since she was the granddaughter of a nobleman, and the daughter of a Baronet, rank in itself did not particularly frighten her, and her improved health and looks had given her a confidence she had never previously known.

The Duchess, at least, was not the kind of person to inspire alarm, being merely a tall, large, silly-looking woman, dressed rather too fashionably for a visit to a country house in the daytime. But her brother was a different matter. Likewise tall, but much younger, fair-haired and handsome, he exuded an air of self-confidence that it might not be out of place to call arrogance, and also a slight, but detectable, air of dissipation and boredom. His sister obviously adored him.

Anne wondered if this was why Colonel Fitzwilliam, at least, looked uneasy; this was not the kind of man, she guessed, whom he liked to present to his female cousins. Colonel Fitzwilliam, she thought, having dined with them in Burley, has been forced into making the introduction. Georgiana and Miss Rackham looked frightened out of their wits. Elizabeth merely looked amused: Anne remembered that she had never, for a moment, shown awe, or even respect, for Lady Catherine; if the Duchess had tried to patronize Elizabeth, she had wasted her time. Cousin Darcy merely looked politely bored. After the introductions had been made in form, they all sat and looked at each other.

“You were in the library when we arrived, I believe, Miss de Bourgh,” the Duchess said. “Are you a great reader? Are you a reader of novels, or do you despise them?”

“No indeed, I enjoy them very much,” said Anne. She had a feeling that the Duchess would not like to hear that she was writing one. “But Mr Darcy has an excellent library on general topics as well, and I have been reading about the curious rocks and minerals of Derbyshire.”

“Dear me! That sounds very serious. I never think that we poor women should tax our intellects too hard.”

“It always seems very unfair to me,” said Elizabeth, “That if a woman reads novels, she is called frivolous; and if she reads more serious works, she runs the risk of being called a blue-stocking.”

“And if she reads nothing at all,” said Darcy, “whatever she is called, she will be very stupid indeed.” Anne had to bend her head to hide a smile.

After this, the conversation ranged, with amazing insipidity, from the weather, to the countryside, to the amenities of Burley, and Anne wondered why they had been so anxious to meet her. Perhaps they had brought a letter from her mother? But none was produced. Lord Francis, the introduction once made, barely spoke again. They moved into an adjoining saloon, where refreshments had been laid out; the refreshments were praised; the room was praised, the pictures on the wall were praised.

Eventually the visitors got up to leave, and the Duchess, smiling graciously, said, “You will see us again, you know, at Lady Louisa's ball; we shall be pleased to see you. She has not yet sent out her invitations, but do not be afraid, you are all asked, and we are very pleased. But your mother tells me you do not dance, Miss de Bourgh? Is that so?”

“No, madam,” Anne replied. “It is not the case any more. There was a time, when I was in poor health, when dancing was too much for me, but I am recovered.”

“I am afraid I may not be able to give you the meeting,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I am being recalled; I have had letters this morning.”

“Well, we shall see the rest of you there. Goodbye,” and she graciously held out her hand.

“Haw,” said Lord Francis, speaking to her for the first time. “Haw. Dog. Little dog. You like dogs, Miss de Bourgh?”

Trying not to laugh, Anne said “I like this one, sir.”

“Haw. So do I. Nice little creature.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Glad you dance. Must dance with me, at the ball.”

“Certainly, sir. Goodbye.”

“Well,” said Georgiana as soon as they had gone. “What was all that about? I was never so frightened in my life; and they did not seem to like us one bit. Why did they come? Cousin Fitzwilliam, are you really being recalled?”

“Certainly I am; did you think I would tell a lie? The Army has decided that it must take a look at me, and decide whether I am fit to go back and be shot at again, though they have not yet told me when they will send for me. I am quite ready, and I think I shall do very well. I need action; I miss my comrades. You have all been very good to me, but it is time to be gone. But tell me, Darcy: why do you think the Duchess and her precious brother came here? For they brought no message from Lady Catherine, not even a greeting. I have a very good idea that they came without Lady Catherine's knowledge.”

“A thirty-mile drive, for the sake of an hour's visit,” Darcy said. “Is our society really so desirable?”

“I am afraid that I may have done harm there,” Fitzwilliam confessed. “I think my little stratagem for avoiding Lady Catherine's anger awakened these people to the fact that her daughter was staying in the neighbourhood. I think they knew before that Anne is a rich heiress, but did not know how rich; and in any case, assumed her to be sick, and at Rosings. I think they came here on what we would call in the Army a reconnaissance expedition; I think they came to take a look at you, Anne.”

“Why Anne?” Mrs Darcy asked. “Why not Georgiana, too? She is just as much an heiress as Anne; they could see two of them, for the price of one.”

“It could be a very good match,” Darcy said. “Lord Francis has rank, good looks, and a splendid position in society, and he appeared good-natured. He would do for either of you.”

“But he is old!” said Georgiana. “And he is so stupid!”

“I do not think him at all clever,” said her brother, “but many clever, well-educated women marry stupid men, and are quite happy with them. His lack of money alone must make either of you acceptable to him; he could not do better. I shall not flatter your vanity by telling you that you are both pretty girls.”

“And if he needs money as badly as they say,” Elizabeth added, “he would probably be quite willing to marry both of you, if he were allowed.”

“Well, that may be,” said Georgiana. “He does seem very good-humoured. But I do not intend to marry an old, stupid man, however high his rank may be. I want to marry somebody young, who likes the things that I like. Do not you, Anne?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Anne. “I think a similarity of ideas is the most important thing for happiness in a marriage, and surely a similarity of age must be part of that, for older men do not like the same things as young women.”

“You are both of you far too nice,” Darcy said. “If it were left up to you two, I do not know what would become of all the stupid men. Somebody must marry them, or what will become of us all?”

“I do not see that at all,” said Elizabeth. “If nobody married any of them, the race of stupid men must die out.”

“Well,” said Georgiana, “however that may be, I am glad that I do not have to dance with Lord Francis. What shall you say to him, Anne? Haw? Haw?” and they all began to laugh.

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