“Had I found Mr. Crawford, I would have informed you directly I returned. As it happens, I did not.”
“Let us hope, then, that Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr. Archer completed their mission with better results. You gave up prematurely, in my opinion. Apparently, I must rely upon my other nephew or my agent to protect our family’s interests.”
“It grew dark, and I saw little point in continuing my course when none of the occupants of any house I passed had observed a gentleman who met Mr. Crawford’s description. Obviously, he took a different route. I fervently hope my cousin or Mr. Archer did achieve more success, for I am as anxious as you are to see Mr. Crawford answer for his crimes.”
“Surely you comprehend the gravity of Anne’s circumstances. It is imperative that we act quickly to—”
Lady Catherine fell silent at the sound of the inn’s door opening below. A moment later, Mr. Archer mounted the stairs.
“Did you apprehend the scoundrel?” her ladyship asked.
“I did not. He is gone. But despite his absence, we may initiate some of the legal matters we discussed.”
“Then let us proceed posthaste.” She turned to Elizabeth and Darcy. “You will excuse us while we confer. Mrs. Darcy, I would consider it a favor if you would sit with Anne and administer more laudanum if she should wake. Do not allow her to cry or indulge in hysteria — as I have told her myself, such emotions are unnecessary, not to mention unbecoming.”
Elizabeth went to Anne’s room not in deference to Lady Catherine, but out of her own desire to comfort the unfortunate Mrs. Crawford. When Anne awakened, Elizabeth offered not laudanum but compassion. Anne did not need sedation, she needed a chance to grieve, whether by giving voice to her feelings or experiencing them in the privacy of her own heart. Her anguish was deep, but its expression hardly constituted hysteria. They conversed a little, Anne’s pain and humiliation still too raw to fully articulate. Afterward, she settled into a natural sleep that Elizabeth believed would do far more to restore her strength and spirits than drug-induced lethe.
By the time Elizabeth heard Colonel Fitzwilliam’s tread on the stair, the hour had grown late. He was already talking with Darcy in their chamber as Elizabeth emerged from Anne’s room to join them. The colonel immediately interrupted the conversation to enquire after Anne. His expression was grave, but eased slightly at her report.
“I am relieved that she has found peace for the moment,” he said. “It is that blackguard who deserves to suffer.”
“You did not overtake him, I presume?”
“No one has seen him. It is as if the devil passed invisible through the countryside on his journey back to hell. Pardon me for speaking so strongly, Mrs. Darcy. I wish I could aim more than words at Mr. Crawford.”
“You merely voice what we are all thinking.”
“Do you think it would be permissible if I stood watch in Anne’s chamber through the night? I doubt Mr. Crawford will dare show his face here again, but if he does, I do not trust him.”
Elizabeth admired Colonel Fitzwilliam’s protective instincts toward his cousin. “I think Anne needs the support of all her family right now.”
After bidding them good night, Colonel Fitzwilliam remained at Anne’s side until relieved by Lady Catherine herself, who chased him out of Anne’s room upon discovering him there. It was improper, her ladyship insisted, for any man to spend time unchaperoned with Anne in her bedchamber, let alone at such a late hour. She would superintend Anne’s comfort and safety herself.
The supervision had amounted to rousting Elizabeth from her own bed to pass the night beside Anne’s, where Elizabeth alternated between dozing lightly and reflecting on whether the solicitude of an honorable male cousin could truly cause Anne’s reputation any greater damage than it had already suffered. She determined that it could not, that Anne deserved consolation from whatever quarter and at whatever hour it was tendered, and that the chair in Anne’s room was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever fashioned.
As it turned out, the vigil proved unnecessary. Though Anne had wakened during part of the colonel’s watch, she slept through Elizabeth’s entirely, and Henry Crawford did not return.
But his horse did.
Riderless.
You express so little anxiety about my being murdered under Ash Park Copse by Mrs. Hulbert’s servant, that I have a great mind not to tell you whether I was or not.
The restless night gave way to an equally restless morning. Anne, it seemed, had been the only member of their party to capture more than intermittent sleep. Elizabeth had returned to her chamber to find Darcy dressed, and when they went down to breakfast they found Colonel Fitzwilliam already at table.
“I could not lie still,” he confessed. “I am near mad for useful employment, but I know not what action to take.”
“At present there is little to be done beyond turning the affair over to the magistrate,” Darcy said.
“I offered to call upon Sir Thomas, but Lady Catherine bade me wait. She said Mr. Archer would handle it.”
A minute later, the inn door opened to admit the solicitor, a dark silhouette against the pale daylight behind him. Mr. Archer was dressed in the same black suit he had worn the day before, or perhaps an identical one; he did not project the impression of a gentleman wont to enliven his wardrobe with variety. Such as color.
He appeared surprised to find their small party assembled, and consulted his pocketwatch. “Half past eight already? Still, rather early for breakfast.”
“Perhaps in London,” said Mrs. Gower, bringing out additional tea, toast, rolls, and rashers. Elizabeth hungrily reached for a roll and spread it with strawberry jam. The long night had left her famished, and she expected this day to prove still longer.
As Mr. Archer moved farther into the room, Elizabeth noted that his suit indeed sported a bit of color — a stripe of yellowish sheen near his left knee. He crossed to the staircase, where the descent of Lady Catherine halted his progress. A look passed between them, her brows rising in question. He responded with a nod so slight as to be almost imperceptible. After she passed, he proceeded to his own chamber.
Her ladyship settled into a chair at the head of the table. “Mrs. Darcy, who attends Anne presently?”
“She woke and desired solitude in which to order her thoughts. She said she would call for one of us or your maid if she required anything.”
The room darkened as more clouds passed over the sun. Her ladyship’s countenance darkened as well.
“Someone ought to sit with her and engage her in constructive discourse, else she might indulge in melancholy.” There was little doubt who the “someone” was that Lady Catherine had in mind.
Much as Elizabeth sympathized with Anne’s plight — both her recent marital mess and the lifelong misfortune of fate having assigned Lady Catherine as her mother — she had maternal matters of her own occupying her attention this morning. She anticipated that today would bring confirmation from Georgiana or Lily-Anne’s nurse of their safe arrival at Pemberley, and until she received it, thoughts of her daughter would command the majority of her consciousness. Though she trusted that all went well, she had never before been separated from the child for such a long period of time, nor by so great a distance, and she missed the little person who had in so few months wrought such significant changes in her life.
“You are well attuned to Anne’s needs.” Elizabeth tried not to choke on her roll along with the words. “What comfort her mother’s presence would bring her.”
“I will see her following breakfast.”
“Perhaps your ladyship might breakfast with your daughter. I wish I could breakfast with mine this morning.”
“Lily-Anne is an infant. Of what possible interest could her presence be to you or any of us? Children are best
