The Matters at Mansfield

score of years, at least.”

“That is a long time to be alone,” she said in the most sympathetic voice Darcy had ever heard issue from her lips.

“Have you ever considered remarrying?”

“Anne will never agree to it.”

“Of course she will,” Lady Catherine told Colonel Fitzwilliam after Lord Sennex left the parlor. “This is an even better arrangement than her marrying the son. She will become a viscountess immediately. With that title, no one will dare criticize her elopement. And Lord Sennex was in favor of the special license, so we need not worry about the reading of the banns — the wedding can take place immediately. He is too addled to even think about waiting long enough to ensure Anne is not in a family way. If she is, it will be an easy matter to dupe him into believing the child is his. Mr. Archer, go draft the marriage agreement directly. I want his lordship to sign it before his solicitor arrives.”

As Mr. Archer departed to do her bidding, Darcy exchanged glances with his cousin.

“Have you considered,” Darcy said to his aunt, “that the viscountcy will pass to Neville Sennex and his children, not to any children of Anne’s?”

“If Neville Sennex produces children.”

“You do not think he will eventually wed?”

“It is a chance I am willing to take to preserve Anne’s respectability.”

“She need not marry a man more than twice her age to do so,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Who else is there? She is almost thirty years old. Suitors were hardly lining up on the steps of Rosings before her elopement. You heard what Neville Sennex said. His own humiliation aside, he is correct in that Anne’s association with Mr. Crawford has tainted her. What man of consequence will have her now? What gentleman at all?”

“I will.”

Lady Catherine stared at the colonel. “What are you saying, Fitzwilliam?”

“I am offering my hand — if Anne herself is willing to accept it.”

“Despite the fact that Henry Crawford compromised her? And that she could be carrying his child?”

“Yes.”

Lady Catherine’s brows rose. “That is very noble of you. But entirely unnecessary. We have just achieved an understanding with Viscount Sennex, and he offers a superior situation. Marrying Anne to her own cousin, a younger son with no land or title of his own, would make the marriage look like a patched-up business. I will not have Society thinking that the daughter of Sir Lewis de Bourgh could do no better than an army officer bought by her fortune and pressured by duty to restore the family name.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam’s jaw tightened. “Why do we not allow Anne to determine that? She is over one-and- twenty. She can decide for herself which offer she prefers to accept, if she wants to accept one at all.”

“I forbid you to mention this to Anne.”

“You forbid me?”

Lady Catherine released a heavy breath. “I can see how the alliance you propose will materially benefit you, and make worthwhile the sacrifice of overlooking her compromised state. But if she defies me in this matter, she will not receive a shilling of her trust funds — the other trustees will side with me and refuse to release her annual income. If, however, you are patient, you can still gain. Wait until she is widowed again to marry her. The viscount is old and frail; his passing will not take long. Then she will have a restored reputation and the handsome jointure I just negotiated with him, as well as Rosings, to bring to your marriage.”

“My offer was not about money.”

Lady Catherine laughed coldly. “I thought you were more worldly, Fitzwilliam. Marriages are always about money, whether that fact is acknowledged or not.”

Their aunt left to oversee Mr. Archer’s progress in drafting the agreement with Sennex. Colonel Fitzwilliam was silent; Darcy could tell he struggled to subdue his resentment toward Lady Catherine.

“For my part,” Darcy said, “I believe Anne would be fortunate in a marriage to you.”

“It is gratifying to know that you, at least, think so.”

“I was, however, as surprised as Lady Catherine by your offer.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam became very busy with a button on the cuff of his coat. “It is not about money.”

Twenty-Three

“Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring any thing you had a fancy for?”

— Elizabeth to Colonel Fitzwilliam, Pride and Prejudice

“Colonel Fitzwilliam made an offer for Anne’s hand?” Elizabeth found the news delightful. A slow smile spread across her countenance, unrepressed by the jostling of the carriage as she and Darcy made their way to Thornton Lacey. Eager to escape the inn for a while, they had decided to visit the village where Edmund Bertram resided in hopes of learning more from the clergyman about Mr. Crawford’s history with the Bertram and Rushworth families.

“Yes. And Lady Catherine rejected it.”

The smile immediately transformed into a frown. “Whatever is she thinking?”

“That she would rather see Anne attached to a doddering but wealthy and titled old man, than to a soldier with far less to recommend him.”

“Oh, come, now — Colonel Fitzwilliam has plenty to recommend him. He is the son of an earl.”

“A younger son, and Anne is the niece of that same earl. He would bring no new connections to the marriage.”

“Even so, he is hardly impoverished. He did not inherit the earldom from his father, but he inherited something—he must have a substantial portion to call his own.”

“Not substantial enough by Lady Catherine’s standards. To her mind, the only thing he offers is respectability, which the viscount, as a peer, trumps.”

Confound Lady Catherine. Elizabeth had witnessed quite enough of her rank pretensions. “What about affection? Does that count for nothing?”

“We are speaking of my aunt.”

“Oh, yes: ‘Affection has no place in such an important decision as marriage.’ How could I forget?”

“What has affection to do with this particular instance? Do you believe Anne and Colonel Fitzwilliam would in time grow to feel about each other as we do?”

“I suspect they already might.”

“Indeed?” He appeared surprised, and somewhat doubtful.

“Did you not observe the way she looked at him yesterday morning? Or how long he held her hand?”

“No, I did not.”

Was that not just like a man? Elizabeth rolled her eyes and glanced out the window as the carriage rounded a curve. “Has it also escaped your notice how attentive he has been toward her since the accident? One must almost drag him away from her bedside.”

“He is her cousin, and she is injured.”

She turned her gaze back upon him. “You are her cousin.”

“I would much rather be at your bedside.”

“My point precisely! When you left him just now, where did he go?”

“To Anne’s chamber.”

“Aha!”

“But only to assist her down the stairs. He said she is feeling improved enough today that she wanted to take