“You are finished with her, Aunt,” Richard said sternly but quietly.

“How dare you! Get out of my way—”

“No. Sit down, Aunt Catherine.” At her glare, he leaned down close to her eyes. “Please—sit—down.”

After a moment, Lady Catherine returned to her seat.

“I think quite enough has been said for one day,” Richard continued. “I will attend to Anne. Do I bring with me your apologies?”

“Apologies?” she sputtered. “It is she who owes me her apologies for forgetting the honor due her mother! You will tell her that for me, sir!”

“She does indeed owe you deference, madam, as you are her mother, but I shall not berate her or carry any demand from you for repentance on her part. Indeed, you should be proud of her. Yes, proud!” Richard said, his voice rising as Lady Catherine made to interrupt. “She was only doing right by your tenants. She was doing your duty.”

“Duty?” Lady Catherine cried. “What do you know of duty?”

“You forget yourself, madam!” the colonel of cavalry roared. “Remember to whom you are speaking! Do not dare speak to me of duty!” Richard allowed his glare to fall upon his wide-eyed aunt for a few moments more before leaving the room in pursuit of Anne.

Mr. Collins was shocked at the exchange he had just witnessed. “Oh, my dear Lady Catherine! What is wrong with the young people these days, to speak in such a manner—?”

“Oh, be silent,” said Lady Catherine.

*   *   *

Richard ran out of the house pulling on his coat, having been told by a servant that Miss de Bourgh had gone into the garden. Through the lightly falling snow, he saw a figure in a hooded cloak walking slowly towards the woods. Without wasting a moment, Richard set off at a run in pursuit of the walker.

“Anne!” he called out. “Anne!”

The figure halted but did not turn. Richard caught up and turned the person around. It was indeed Anne de Bourgh, the hood pulled down over her weeping face. Richard’s heart wrenched at the site of her tears running down her lovely cheeks.

“Anne… Anne, please do not cry—I cannot bear it! This is no place for you. Come, I insist that you come inside where you may warm yourself. You will not have to face your mother; you will be left in peace. I swear it.”

Anne looked up at her cousin. Richard was mesmerized by the lady’s lips, so soft and inviting. He could think of nothing else but to kiss those lips, that nose, those tears. The realization then hit him like a thunderbolt.

He was in love with Anne de Bourgh.

For a full minute the two stood in the lightly blowing afternoon snow, the gentleman holding the lady by the shoulders, each looking the other full in the face, not knowing how the other felt, neither saying what was in their heart.

A sudden gust of wind hit the pair, bringing them to their senses and breaking the tableaux.

“I believe you are right—we should go indoors,” said the lady.

The gentleman nodded and held out his arm. Silently the pair returned to the house.

Chapter 11

Richard sat in his room that night, nursing a brandy and cursing himself. After he saw Anne into the house, Mrs. Jenkinson spirited his cousin to her rooms to get warm before Richard could say anything. But what could he say? How could he declare himself after insulting the lady’s mother?

Instead, he retired to his room and immediately penned an offer to quit Rosings immediately and give up his office as advisor on estate matters. There was no hint of any remorse in his note for his words to his aunt; Richard felt none, and he would stand by those words for the rest of his life. He now sat and morosely waited for his aunt’s response; he did not doubt that the grand lady would accept his resignation.

Richard was a competitive man. All his life, he strove to win, and it pained him to his bones to lose. His drive had kept him alive on the battlefield, but now he knew he had failed. His ungovernable temper had let down his family and cost him the woman he had unwittingly wanted all his life.

He could see that now. All the years he had been coming to Rosings, it was always to see Anne—to show her some kindness and attention, to ease her life. When had affection grown into something more? Richard could not name the date or time; it had grown slowly. He knew his feelings had blossomed in concert with Anne’s own blossoming in recent years. And now, when Richard finally knew what he desired, he had thrown it all away.

Richard chuckled to himself. He could envision the scene: him standing, hat in hand, before his imperious aunt. “Lady Catherine, I formally request your permission to court your daughter, Miss de Bourgh, for the purpose of matrimony.” He wondered if she would laugh before she had him thrown out the door.

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?”