Anne: A Pride and Prejudice Variation: A Long Road Home, #1

By Meg Osborne

Anne de Bourgh's future has been decided for her since she was a child – to marry Fitzwilliam Darcy and follow the plans her mother, Lady Catherine, has set out for her. But what if fate has a different future in store?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meg Osborne
• Release date: Feb 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215183809

Meg Osborne

Meg Osborne is an avid reader, tea drinker and unrepentant history nerd.  She writes sweet historical romance stories and Jane Austen fanfiction, and can usually be found knitting, dreaming up new stories, or adding more books to her tbr list than she'll get through in a lifetime.

Book preview

Chapter One

Ido declare Kent is the most beautiful place in all the world! Anne de Bourgh thought, as she stood at the very furthest reaches of Rosings’ property and stared over the great green expanse that was England's garden county. Of course , she reflected with a glum little shrug, I do not have a great deal to compare it to!

While most young ladies of her age and rank might be familiar with many parts of England Anne had rarely, if ever, spent any time away from home. On the few occasions she had travelled it was to the houses of friends, her social interactions strictly limited to those she already knew or those who were approved by her overbearing mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. A queen in all but name, Lady Catherine ruled over Rosings and Anne with an iron fist. She managed her daughter in the same way as she managed her lap dog, with a diet of stern repetition, stringent praise, and limited affection. Anne drew in a breath, tilting her face upwards to embrace the last rays of the late summer sunshine. Could it still be called summer in October? By now, the year was stretching into autumn and thence winter. Anne shivered, although the weather was unseasonably warm just then. The thought of yet another long winter trapped at home with only her mother for company suddenly felt unbearable.

Anne began to walk again, thinking that she would take the longest path she could back home again and praying she might run across somebody, anyone, with whom to pass the time of day. They would be tenants, probably. Perhaps people who lived in nearby Hunsford. They would not be friends and certainly not acquaintances of the kind Lady Catherine would value but they would be other human beings who might remind Anne she was indeed alive.

In truth, the life Anne lived at home Rosings had not been quite so unbearable of late and she was forced to acknowledge that this was at least partly because of her aunt's new curate. Mr William Collins had undertaken the nearby parish of Hunsford and Lady Catherine had shown a special interest in the young man, regularly inviting him to dine at Rosings, taking an interest in his sermons, and generally making him feel welcome in Kent. Anne grimaced, wondering if welcome was precisely the right word. In truth, Lady Catherine liked the young curate because he was in awe of her and treated her with the respect she felt she deserved. Anne had no way of knowing just how much of her wealth and power Lady Catherine had exerted to ensure that this particular curate held this particular position but she certainly seemed to think of him as her own personal possession, as she did most people in Rosings and the surrounding area.

At first, Mr Collins had been shy, bumbling, awkward, and altogether ridiculous. Anne had taken no interest in the man and quite dismissed him after their first meeting. Yet he had continued to call at Rosings, continued to take on board her mother's suggestions, and continued to quietly ignore them. It was this that had first drawn Anne in. How was it that Mr Collins managed to both appease her mother and disobey her at the same time? Anne was quite certain Lady Catherine had not yet realised that many of her suggestions were taken as just that, suggestions to be implemented or ignored as Mr Collins saw fit. But I noticed. She noticed the occasional spark of amusement that flickered across Mr Collins's face before being hidden just in time for Lady Catherine to look at him. It was this, combined with the fact that Mr Collins had taken the time to know Anne as well as her mother that had gradually raised him in her estimation. His greetings when he called at Rosings had grown from a polite good afternoon to chivalrous enquiries as to her health, to actual conversations. Lately, they had discussed books and when Anne had lamented missing one part of a four-volume collection of essays, he had delightedly informed her that he owned the entire set. I would be more than happy to part with book three so that you might read it. It was such a spontaneous act of kindness that Anne could not help but appreciate him even more. He was becoming not just her mother's curate, but her friend.

She glanced at the small fob watch she kept fixed to her dress and increased her pace. While she might be in no hurry to return home to her mother, Mr Collins might very well call there this afternoon as he did most days and just at that moment, Anne felt a stirring desire to see him again.

She hurried now, selecting the shorter of two paths, and had carried along it some way when the sound of thundering horses’ hooves behind her made her stop. She frowned, thinking she had imagined the sound but no, there it was again and growing louder! Anne turned, her heart in her throat. For one fleeting, fanciful moment, Anne’s imagination taunted her with images of highwaymen or bandits but she just as quickly shoved the thoughts aside, certain it was merely some gentlemen lost and straying from the road. She held her ground. She would direct him safely back towards town.

The Kent countryside was flat, so Anne had a good view of the unfamiliar horsemen as he closed the distance between them. What she did not expect was for him to raise one arm, snatch his hat from his head and wave it enthusiastically in her direction.

Anne! The stranger’s merry voice called. I thought that was you! Although I’m quite sure I would recognise you anywhere!

Anne frowned, confusion giving way to utter delight as she at last recognised the figure and he grew close enough for her to return his greeting.

Richard! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam tugged on his horse's reins, pulling his animal to an abrupt stop and in one fluid motion dismounted, throwing his arms around his cousin in an embrace so enthusiastic he almost knocked off her feet.

Why, I have come to see you, of course!

MR WILLIAM COLLINS was having a good day. He had completed his round of parish visits in record time and had made significant progress on the reading he had to do for this Sunday’s sermon. The homily was three-quarters of the way finished, although it would need looking over by his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, before he might come close to considering it finished.

It was towards Rosings Park that he walked that afternoon with a spring in his step and contentment in his heart. He clutched a book under one arm which he had promised the loan of to Miss Anne de Bourgh, and tucked inside it were his sermon notes for her mother. He was certain of a warm welcome at Rosings and he looked forward to the encouragement to dine with the family which he knew would come if he timed his arrival precisely. Consulting his watch, he hastened his pace, not wanting to arrive late. Lady Catherine was a stickler for punctuality.

It was not only for Lady Catherine’s sake that William hurried. He was eager to give this volume to Anne, knowing how pleased she would be to receive it. They had begun speaking often of books, those they had both read and admired, those they despaired of for the harm they caused their readers. There had sprung up a surprising friendship between them and William, who had never had very many friends to speak of, valued it more than he cared to acknowledge.

You must tell me what you think of this one, Miss de Bourgh, once you have finished it. There are some fascinating ideas concealed within its pages and I very much look forward to discussing them with you. Yes, that would be how to begin. Or...did he sound too much like a schoolmaster, waiting to hear her recitation? He shook his head. He would phrase it differently. Yet he did not wish to sound too informal. Anne would not mind, for they had fallen into an easy, companionable way of speaking when it was just the two of them. Anne’s service to the parish had led to their being together often, making calls to the poorer people of Hunsford, and visiting sick tenant-farmers and their families near Rosings Park. Indeed, scarcely a day passed when William did not see Anne either at home or abroad. He smiled to himself. I prefer to see her at home, where she may be comfortable and safe. Lady Catherine had remarked more than once that she did not quite approve of Anne’s tenacity in visiting sick people: her constitution was a delicate one and she was forever in danger of succumbing to illness herself. After hearing this complaint, William had sought to encourage Anne to make the parish calls with him to the poor only and leave him to visit the sick alone. He did not greatly care for this, for he rather feared for his own constitution being so often in the sickroom and he had no instinct for nursing. He reached for his handkerchief, blowing his nose and fearing, even then, he was succumbing to a cold.

No! I am well.  I shall be well! He drew in a large breath of fresh afternoon air and looked about him, admiring the way the sun fell on the great stretches of green grass, turning it golden. They were fortunate with their weather of late and William was intent on wringing every last bit of brightness from the year.

He drew within sight of Rosings and paused for a moment to admire the grand house from this, his favourite vantage point. It was a beautiful property and it still thrilled him a little that he was welcomed there so often to dine or pay calls. To think that he, William Collins, was a favoured guest of the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh! He beamed. His father would never have believed such a thing! His smile faltered. The shadow that always settled over William when he thought of the father he had lost, but whose disapproving figure still loomed large over him and it was only with effort that he shook it off.

That is the past, he whispered, his eyes fixed on Rosings. Today, I shall dwell only in the present, in my vocation and the friendship of neighbours such as this. Suitably cheered, he began the rest of the walk down to the great house, whistling to himself as he did so and again imagining what Anne would say when presented with the book he had brought for her.

Anne? A movement off to the side made William blink, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. No, there were indeed two figures making the same walk he was, although they approached