Perhaps Ginger does not approve of Lady Catherine’s choice for Darcy’s wife.

Part 2

Darcy paced across his spacious chamber once again. The room accommodated not only a large four poster bed and chest of drawers, but a writing desk, a table sufficient to seat three, and an imposing wing chair by the fire. The attached dressing room was nearly as large. While graciously appointed with furniture and trappings as fine as he could wish for, there were moments when all the empty space left him remembering the essential loneliness that followed everywhere he went.

While the room was comfortable, it was far too close to Anne’s chambers for his liking. It seemed he would coincidentally run into her in the corridor far too often for coincidence to explain. She would leave her rooms just as he was stepping out for his morning walks. She would appear halfway down the hall, waving at him when he made his way down for breakfast. Returning from an afternoon of hunting, she would arrive breathless at the top of the stairs, to inquire after the success of his sport. The only explanation was that she was stalking him as carefully as he and Fitzwilliam did while hunting their prey.

His shoulders twitched and he shuddered. Anne seemed quite comfortable with her mother’s assumption that Darcy would marry her. More disturbing still, it appeared she was trying to make some efforts to be pleasing—efforts that she had never bothered with before. Almost as if she were growing tired of waiting for that happy event to occur. Truly, he needed to address the issue with her soon and make her realize that it was never to be.

It had been all together much easier to ignore the whole issue of Anne until the appearance of Miss Elizabeth Bennet in Aunt Catherine’s parlor, face glowing from the exercise, her arms full of Ginger and his basket. What perverse mischance brought her here just the same time he made his yearly visit. Was it possible that she was even more lovely in Kent than in Meryton? Certainly her wit was as sparking and vivacious as ever. How beastly unfair.

More vexing still, Ginger had clearly taken a profound liking to her. Beyond Aunt Catherine, he was very particular who was allowed to handle His Royal Highness. Darcy himself was one of the chosen few. Now she was, too.

The creature had been a fixture at Rosings for several years now. How he had charmed Aunt Catherine was a mystery indeed. She never had much use for cats beyond the ones in the barns before him. But charm her he had. Now it seemed someone was assigned to keeping watch over the cat at all times. She certainly had staff sufficient to the task and how she deployed them was certainly her business. But Darcy drew the line at being expected to chase after the creature himself.

Still, Ginger’s odd predilection for Miss Elizabeth had served him well more often than not on this visit. No less than half a dozen times, the creature had led him on a merry chase that led him straight onto the path Miss Elizabeth had chosen for her morning walk. Darcy knew her preferences by now, but he would never have save Ginger’s interference.

Had Miss Elizabeth come to suspect his encountering her on her morning walk had hardly been coincidental? The arch in her fine brows had certainly suggested so. But she was far too much of a lady to ever give voice to those thoughts. But it was entertaining to imagine what she considered might manage to say while remaining in the bounds of propriety.

Was it a blessing or a curse that she should suddenly appear here at Rosings? Certainly those evenings for dinner or at the card table were a curse. How could it be otherwise when he could hardly look at or even speak to her without Aunt Catherine interrupting to redirect his attention to herself or Anne. Torturous. Simply torturous.

Yet the mornings he found her, framed in the lingering rays of sunrise made all that entirely worthwhile. Sometimes they shared a lively debate. Oh, how sharp her wit—and tongue when she had a decided opinion to profess. Even when she did not, how well she would play devil’s advocate just for the sake of the conversation. Other times they were able to just enjoy the quiet cool of the morning. Not needing to sully it with words. What finer diversion could there be than that? How soon might he be able to enjoy that again?

A door shut in the corridor and soft women’s voices agreed that they would take a ride in the phaeton this morning. They trailed off in the direction of the stairs. Could it be—Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson were away for the morning?

Escape at last!

A quarter of an hour later, he stepped from his room and down the grand stairs. A brisk morning was just what he needed—and he knew just the path to take.

“Darcy! Darcy! Where are you skulking off to? Come attend me. I require your presence.”

The hair on the back of his neck rose and his shoulders prickled. Her voice grated like fingernails on slate. Had anyone else had the audacity to shout across the house in such a fashion, Aunt Catherine would have declared them entirely rude. How had she even known he was approaching?

Darcy dragged himself to the parlor. Ginger met him at the door, purring and winding himself around Darcy’s ankles. Traitorous beast must have given him away. Darcy picked up the cat who rested his paws on Darcy’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Cousin.” Anne, in a new walking ensemble rose from her chair near her mother and slowly approached. “It seems as though I have hardly seen you at all. One might think she was being avoided.” She batted her eyes.

It was not an attractive expression. Darcy sniffed.

“Do not take that attitude with me. You have hardly shown proper attention to Anne since you have been here.” Aunt Catherine rapped her knuckles on the table beside her.

“How can you possibly suggest such a thing? What dinner had I missed when have I failed to attend you in the drawing room afterwards or refused to play cards?” Not that he had not often wished for exactly that.

“That is hardly to your credit, nephew. You would do no less at any house party—”

“Mrow!” Ginger leapt over Darcy’s shoulder and out the open window.

Glorious creature! “Never fear, Aunt, I shall return him to you!” He trotted toward the door.

“I am not finished with you!” Aunt Catherine rose, trying to look threatening. The effect was more comical than intimidating.

“But the cat will not wait!” Darcy crossed the threshold into the corridor and broke into a run for the front door and away from the house.

A ginger flash caught his eye, heading toward a wooded path. Miss Elizabeth occasionally walked there, though it was not the one he had planned to take this morning. He paused and turned toward his favorite trail. Guilt—probably overzealous—seized him. He had told Aunt Catherine he was chasing after the cat and he really should do what he had said he would do.

Ginger cat still approves!

But the other path was far more inviting …

Oh, botheration!

He turned and trotted after the stubborn creature.

Just where might Ginger be leading Darcy? Tell me your thoughts in the comments.

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