Free Darcy and Anne by JUDITH BROCKLEHURST

elegant Darcy, or the soldierly Colonel Fitzwilliam. Yet when he had entered the room, she had immediately had the sense, in the middle of her confusion, that here was someone with whom she was safe. And she had been; she must thank him. But he could not keep her mother away from her. She remembered with a shudder her mother's rage when she had discovered that Cousin Darcy was indeed going to marry Elizabeth; her furious ill-temper with her household; how she had railed at Mr and Mrs Collins; and then had learned, to her fury, that Mr Collins could not be put out of his living.
    Then she thought, But then I was ill. Then I had no money. And Mr Collins could not be put out. It had all died down, and between the lady of the manor and the parish priest an uneasy peace had descended. Civility, if not friendship, had been restored. When people must live together, Anne thought, they do.
    Now she was well. Now, suddenly, she had money. How miserable could her mother make her, when she could still learn to play the piano, for now she could pay for a master? When she could hire a maid for herself? I will buy myself some new dresses, of my own choosing, she thought. I will buy myself a horse, and ride it!
    But I do not want to go back to Rosings. Oh, why does my cousin not come?
    In the end, it was Georgiana who came to find her. The walking party had returned, she said, “And there is a cold collation in the dining room, and there is a visitor as well, whom I think you will like.”
    “Is it Lady Louisa Benton?” Anne asked, for she knew her mother's friend was expected that day.
    “No, she is not here yet, but it is Elizabeth's papa, Mr Bennet. I do not like her mama so very much, but he is the greatest dear, so droll. He always turns up when we do not expect him. And Anne, he has come from Longbourn, to give us the news that Elizabeth's sister, Mrs Bingley, has been brought to bed, and she has a little girl. Come, you must come!”
    They found the party in the dining room gathered round the table, and with them a small, elderly, bright-eyed gentleman in a long, grey travelling coat. Elizabeth was happily perusing a letter, apparently from her mother: “Jane is well, very well, and the baby is to be called Elizabeth caroline. Caroline Bingley and I are asked to stand godmothers, and the godfather will be a Mr Robinson, a school friend of dear Bingley.”
    “Oh, why not my brother?” cried Georgiana.
    “They are saving him for a boy,” said Mr Bennet.
    “But tell us more, papa! What does it look like? Whom does it resemble? Mama says it looks like dear Bingley, but do you think so?”
    “Oh, I do not know. It is either a boy, or a girl, and it looks like a baby; that is, there are a great many long clothes, and nothing much else. Bingley allowed the lease to expire, you know, on Netherfield, for he thought they would be in this part of the world, in their new home, long before the child was born. He would—he always expects that things will be for the best. But it was not so, and the new people wanted to get in, so he and Jane came to stay with us. I do not know when we will get them out. I came away because the women were making such a cackle, you could get no sense from any of them.”
    “You mean, you could get no attention, sir,” said his son-in-law, laughing. “But things will be no better here, you know, within a few weeks.”
    “Well, well, I think, my dear sir, that you will retain a few shreds of good sense; and my daughter Elizabeth has more of quickness about her than my other girls. Whatever happens, your library is bigger than mine; I shall be able to retire into my own small corner, and get away from the noise.”
    “Come to us, sir,” said Mr Caldwell. “We will take you walking in the hills, and tell you all about our fossils, and our remarkable curiosities.”
    “But it will be such a happy event!” said Mrs Caldwell, not quite understanding.
    They were all talking; they were all laughing. She