The Three Colonels

Richard knew Anne’s mind; she would never go against her mother’s wishes. Of course, he was assuming the lady felt the same about him. She did not want Darcy. Why would she want poor Richard Fitzwilliam, a second son with little income aside from his pay from the crown? Perhaps it was not so much the idea of a union with Darcy that displeased Anne as it was the whole concept of marriage to a cousin. Richard’s thoughts grew ever bleaker as he sipped his drink before the fire.

Finally, the expected knock came. Slowly, Richard rose, crossed to the door, and opened it to behold the butler with a note on a silver tray. Richard took the note, thanked the butler, and closed the door. He walked over to the back of his chair, looking at the name on the cover: Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. As there was no profit in postponing the inevitable, he broke the seal and began to read.

Colonel Fitzwilliam,

I have received your note offering to resign your office here at Rosings. While your apology was not clearly laid out, I must assume that you meant to do so by your offer of resignation. I am pleased that you admit your fault, though it was done in such an obscure manner.

Your offer of resignation is not accepted. I expect, as a member of the Fitzwilliam family, you shall see to your duties as usual in the morning.

Yours, etc…

Richard stared at the note for some time, not quite believing the words therein. Had it not been for the haughty manner of the writing, he certainly would have suspected a forgery. Finally, he fell into the chair he had vacated, the note hanging from his fingertips.

For some reason Richard could not fathom, Aunt Catherine had chosen to view his letter as an apology so that Richard could remain to complete his task as Rosings. The colonel did not hold the belief that affection for his person had stayed the lady’s hand.

No, he knew that something else was at work here. It would be a while before he could find sleep.

*   *   *

Anne came downstairs the next morning, not knowing whom she dreaded seeing more, her mother or her cousin. Seeing neither in the breakfast room, Anne sought out the housekeeper.

“Mrs. Parks, has either my mother or Colonel Fitzwilliam been down to breakfast?”

“No, miss,” replied Mrs. Parks. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has had nothing but a cup of tea; he has been in the library with the steward this last hour. Your mother is having her breakfast upstairs. Shall I fix a plate for you, miss?”

“Just a little something—perhaps toast with jam,” said a surprised yet relieved Anne. “I am to meet Mrs. Collins for a stroll very soon.” As Anne ate her light breakfast, she could not prevent her eyes from straying to the door of the library down the hall. Knowing Richard was there unsettled her. She left her breakfast half eaten and prepared to go on her walk.

Anne was soon among the trees in the grove. The air, while still chilly, had moderated from yesterday’s cold, and the snow was already half melted. Spring is in the air, Anne thought when she heard Charlotte calling her name. The two friends soon met and continued to walk amongst the trees.

“How are you today, Anne?” began Charlotte.

“Much better, I thank you. I have not sneezed once.”

Charlotte eyed her companion. “Anne, as happy as I am to hear you in good health, I believe you know I was not inquiring about your sneezing.” At Anne’s continued hesitation, Charlotte declared, “Forgive me, Anne. It was not my intention to pry.”

Anne stopped and turned to the other woman. “Oh, I do not believe that was your intention. You are concerned for me, I know. It… it is just that—oh, you will think me foolish!”

“My dear, please share your burden with me.”

“Mother upset me greatly yesterday.”

“Yes, we were all witness to her abominable behavior towards you.” Charlotte lowered her voice. “May I tell you a secret? Even Mr. Collins was upset with Lady Catherine.”

“You are joking!” Anne gasped. “Mr. Collins?”

“You could not be more astonished than I. He was troubled that his esteemed patroness would show the bad manners to publicly berate ‘the district’s finest flower’ for doing her Christian duty.” Charlotte added with a smile, “Though he only admitted it to me after we were safely in our bedroom where the servants could not overhear.” Both women giggled. “But, Anne,” Charlotte continued after the laughter died down, “there is more to your melancholy than your mother. Might it have something to do with a certain officer?”

Anne whirled to her friend. “How? How did you know?”

“Oh, Anne, I have known it for some time.”

“Why have you not spoken of it before?” Anne then paled. “Do you think anyone else knows?”

“Mrs. Jenkinson might suspect,” Charlotte considered. “Elizabeth, as well—”

“Elizabeth!”

“Georgiana… Mr. Darcy, too—they can keep nothing from him.”

Anne put both hands to her face. “Oh, no!”

Charlotte took her friend’s hands into her own. “Fear not, Anne. It is certain that your mother suspects nothing. No one who would inform Lady Catherine of your feelings toward Colonel Fitzwilliam has the slightest idea as to your inclinations. Your secret is safe.” Anne’s face could not hide her relief. “Safe even from your love.”

Anne turned away. “Then everything is well—” she began to say when she heard a snort of frustration from her companion.

“Not again!” Charlotte cried to the heavens. “Three years ago only I saw what was happening between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. I said nothing, and look at the pain it caused!”

Anne was amazed at Charlotte’s outburst. “What pain? Did something happen while they were here that spring?”

“Never mind; it is not my tale to tell. In any case, all ended well. But I shall not stand idly by again.” Charlotte took Anne by the shoulders. “My dear friend, believe me when I say that Colonel Fitzwilliam is in love with you!”

“No, it cannot be,” said Anne. “You are wrong—”

“Anne, I have watched the both of you. To my eyes, it is as obvious as the sun!” Charlotte tried another approach. “Anne, will you admit to feelings for the colonel?”

Anne blushed, her eyes firmly planted on the ground.

“Anne?”

“Yes,” said Anne in a small voice.

“You love him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not want him to return your love, or do you believe that you are not worthy of him?” Charlotte frowned. “For it is my opinion that he is not worthy of you!”

“How can you say that?” cried Anne. “Richard is the best of men!”

“Bah! A few medals, surviving Bonaparte—what is that compared to what you have endured your entire life? If he is such a great man, why has it taken him so long to know his own mind?”

“I… I do not understand.”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam has been in love with you for about as long as you have been in love with him. It is true! Only, you have admitted to the truth of your heart’s desire and for a very long time, have you not? If Mr. Darcy had followed his aunt’s demands and asked for your hand, you would have refused him, is that not so?”

Anne nodded.

Charlotte continued. “But the colonel has only this week realized his true feelings for you. I watched him at the Clarkes’ and as he defended you against Lady Catherine. Believe me; he is violently in love with you.”

Anne’s mind rebelled at the words of her friend. For so long when she was ill, she felt unable to love— unworthy of being loved. Now that she was improved, why did she continue to feel that way?

Charlotte’s eyes bore into hers. “Do not let your mother poison you against happiness.”

Anne’s head snapped up, and tears began to run down her face.