Free A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Renata McMann, Summer Hanford

of sewing. In fact, it had been his intention the afternoon before to invite her for a walk, as the day had been very fine. Of course, Richard’s news had spoiled that plan. Maybe this afternoon, though, when Anne was through with whatever it was she’d requested a maid for.
    “You rang, misses, sir?” a girl said, stepping into the room.
    “Yes,” Anne said, looking up. “Please tell Mrs. Barclay and Mr. Greyson that I would like to see them.”
    “Yes, miss,” the maid said.
    As the girl hurried away, Anne set her sewing aside, sitting up straighter and smoothing her black skirts.
    Darcy frowned, wondering why she wished to see her housekeeper and chief steward. “Anne?”
    “I’m seeing that my mother’s will is carried out, Darcy,” she said, not looking at him. Her face had a resolute cast.
    Elizabeth’s hands stilled. She looked up at Darcy in mild alarm, her face questioning. Mrs. Barclay and Mr. Greyson entered the parlor.
    “You sent for us, miss?” Mr. Greyson said, bowing.
    Mrs. Barclay curtsied.
    Anne nodded. “Please see that all of the household staff and the farm workers are gathered. It is time to give out the bequests from Lady Catherine. Anyone who wants to leave before the quarter is over will be paid up until today.”
    “I don’t think that is a good idea,” Elizabeth said quietly, her tone urgent.
    Anne leveled a hard looking frown on Elizabeth before turning back to her housekeeper and steward. “Mr. Hayes is in my mother’s . . . that is, my study, with a large strongbox that is locked inside the cabinet next to the door.” She held out a key, which Mr. Greyson took. “Have him and it brought to the front parlor and request that everyone gather. I will see each of them in the parlor, one at a time.”
    Mr. Greyson appeared startled, but he bowed. “Yes, miss.”
    “Yes, miss,” Mrs. Barclay echoed, curtsying again.
    As soon as they left, Darcy watched Anne turn a glare on Elizabeth. “I would prefer you give me advice in private,” Anne said stiffly. “I don’t like you trying to undermine my authority.”
    “Is this sufficiently private?” Elizabeth asked, her tone contrite, though Darcy felt he knew her well enough to read anger in the set of her shoulders and jaw.
    “Yes, it is.”
    Elizabeth took a quick breath. “Then let me tell you that if you do this, too many of the staff will leave. It wouldn’t matter if only one or two went, but your mother was very generous with her bequests. You’re going to lose more than a few.”
    Darcy hadn’t thought of that, but once Elizabeth brought it to his attention, he shared her concern. The way Lady Catherine had constructed her will, all of the most experienced workers would be given enough that they could afford to leave if they wished. Those individuals were the ones needed most.
    “I am not going back on my word,” Anne said forcefully. “I’m sure the servants here are more loyal than you think, or are apparently accustomed to. They won’t leave. Besides, they live here or nearby. Where would they go?”
    Elizabeth turned beseeching eyes on Darcy, who cleared his throat, wondering if Anne was correct. His own staff was very loyal. He was certain of it.
    “Darcy, come,” Anne said, standing. “I want you by my side. You may certainly come too if you wish, Elizabeth, but please do not contradict me in front of the servants.” With that, Anne marched from the room.
    Darcy stood, surprised by Anne’s forcefulness.
    “Do you think I’m needed?” Mrs. Jenkinson asked.
    “You should take some time for yourself,” Elizabeth said before Darcy could answer. “I’ll go.”
    Mrs. Jenkinson smiled, looking grateful, and began putting away her work.
    Elizabeth rose, gathering up her sewing. “Shall we, Mr. Darcy?” she said, gesturing toward the door.
    He nodded and turned to follow Anne. He wasn’t sure if his cousin was doing the right thing, but thought her new attitude was a good sign. She would need a