by Jennifer Joy
“Wise words which I will heed, Richard.”
The sun soaked through his coat, warming him while the breeze carrying the bite of winter reminded him of the season. His Aunt Catherine expected him to visit in the springtime and his greatest hope was to be away on his wedding tour with Elizabeth. There were many places he wanted to show her. Little was unfamiliar for him, but he anticipated the opportunity to experience all things new through her eyes.
They slowed from a trot to a walk once they reached the edge of Meryton. Lawrence might be there already, or would be soon, to pack his things and take them to Netherfield Park. Never was there a better valet than Lawrence.
Bingley had insisted they return to Netherfield Park, assuring Darcy that his sisters were far too occupied with their new acquaintances in the village to be much of a bother to him. Several times a week, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley rode into Meryton to meet with a group of like-minded women. Darcy’s imagination offered him little help in ascertaining how Bingley’s sisters would stoop to befriend anyone outside of their favored London circles, but for his friend’s sake, as well as his own, he wished it to be true. Bingley's tendency toward eternal optimism often made him underestimate his pernicious sisters.
Richard reined in with a start, causing Darcy’s horse to rear up on his hind legs. There was danger ahead.
Darcy’s sharpened senses smelled chimney smoke, but there was no fire in sight. However, what he saw was worse than a house fire for him.
Stationed in front of Tanner’s inn was a large, imposing carriage with a familiar crest blazed on the side in gaudy, gold leaf. So much for writing for Georgiana to come. He would never ask her to leave the peace of Pemberley for a lion’s den.
“What could she possibly be doing here? She does not know, does she?” exclaimed Richard.
Raising his eyes to the heavens, Darcy heaved a prayerful sigh. Dear lord, help him. Aunt Catherine had come to Meryton.
Chapter 5
Darcy's first order of business was to search the streets for signs of Mrs. Bennet. Whatever happened, his aunt must not be introduced to her. Not until Darcy could prepare… Prepare what? For Mrs. Bennet to act contrary to her nature and conceal her impertinence? How could he possibly convince Aunt Catherine to give up her delusion of an alliance between their households when he had been unable to do so since he had learned of the supposed agreement? It was, and had always been, a figment of her overactive imagination.
"Can you imagine the fireworks if Aunt Catherine met Mrs. Bennet?" chuckled Richard nervously.
Darcy could. And he wished to avoid it at all costs. He looked across the square to Mrs. Philips' home, but he did not see the Bennets’ carriage.
“Perhaps she has gone, and we have no cause for concern other than to wonder what has possessed Aunt Catherine to stop in Meryton.” Of all places, Meryton.
“Is that optimism I hear?” Richard harrumphed. “You have been spending too much time with Bingley.”
"Be that as it may, I think the situation is safe for now. Let us not delay the inevitable. We must learn why she has come here before drawing any conclusions." He said it, but there was only one reason he could think of to merit a visit from his aunt. She had heard about Elizabeth.
Darcy, being the master of his own fate, could not care less what his aunt thought about his choice of a wife. He was confident in his decision. However, he would not stand her interference and, as well as Elizabeth would bear the imposing woman, it was not her duty to put up with his family members. Not yet.
The groom silently took their horses, giving a nod of support before he turned toward the stables. Was it so bad even the servants dreaded Lady Catherine’s reaction?
He walked into an empty taproom. If there had been anyone in there before, they had cleared out. Only the wide-eyed Mrs. Molly and her barmaids scurried around the room wiping tables and removing tankards to clean, casting concerned glances in the direction of Tanner's private rooms behind the bar.
"Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam," greeted Mrs. Molly, going to a hook behind the bar to retrieve Darcy's room key. She paused by the curtain, leaning in for a quick listen, then shook her head and returned with Darcy's key. Evidently, Lawrence had yet to arrive with his coach.
"Mrs. Molly, where is Tanner?" Darcy asked, his concern mounting. If he thought Mrs. Bennet would be troublesome before his aunt, Tanner would be much worse. Like all Darcys, his patience had a limit and Aunt Catherine was expert at pushing that limit.
Mrs. Molly's eyes darted over to the curtain. "He is with a guest."
"Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"
Her eyes widened more. "Yes," she said, clutching her apron and wringing it between her hands.
"How long has Tanner been in there with her?"
She swallowed hard. "Long enough," she mumbled.
Darcy nodded. He had better join Tanner before Meryton saw more bloodshed. He had no doubt Aunt Catherine would draw first, but Tanner was a force to be reckoned with. He despised the upper class and his aunt’s presumptuous manners would only light a fire under the ever-glowing embers of Tanner’s resentment.
"Lady Catherine is my aunt. She must be here to see me."
"Your aunt?" Mrs. Molly exclaimed. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she whispered, "I apologize, Mr. Darcy. How … fortunate for you." She visibly struggled to finish her sentence. What was fortunate about being related to someone as entitled as Lady Catherine?
Darcy put her out of her misery. "It is fortunate the colonel and I returned. Thank you, Mrs. Molly. If Lawrence arrives in my carriage while I am otherwise occupied, please have him pack up my things for Netherfield Park. Mr. Bingley is expecting Colonel Fitzwilliam and me today."
Mrs. Molly bowed her head and bobbed a curtsy.
Darcy crossed the room to the other end of the bar. He heard their voices before reaching the private parlor reserved for Tanner's most demanding guests.
Tanner's low growl vibrated out of the room. "It is not my custom to throw out paying guests merely for another’s convenience. I could not care less who your father was or which title you claim. A gentleman is currently occupying my best room and until he sees fit to depart from it, you will have to settle for the next best I have to offer."
"Settle? You ask me to settle? I could ruin you," Aunt Catherine hissed.
Entering the room, Darcy saw the two standing three paces away from each other. Aunt Catherine clutched the sharp-tipped cane she used more to make a statement than for the stability it offered. Tanner's feet stood hip-width apart, his thick arms crossed firmly over his large chest forming an impenetrable wall against which Aunt's pointy arrows bounced off. He was clearly unimpressed. Darcy needed to interfere before Tanner suggested she sleep at the stables with the other mules.
Neither of them turned their heads to look at him and Richard as they entered the parlor. Anne sat in a chair by the fireplace massaging her temples while Mrs. Jenkinson fanned her and patted her arm reassuringly. Anne looked dreadfully pale despite the heat from the fire.
"Aunt Catherine, you must allow Mr. Tanner to see Anne to a room. She must be fatigued after your journey," Darcy said, forgoing greetings and pleasantries when his cousin was in obvious need of assistance.
Tanner's lips tightened. "That is exactly what I have been trying to convince Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park in Kent to allow me to do." He enunciated every syllable of her name, making it clear he knew precisely who she was. “Mrs. Molly already has a suitable room ready if only her ladyship would agree to it. I have offered to send for the apothecary, but she has refused that too.”
"Darcy! You must order this man to give me the best room in his inn. I will settle for nothing less."
Mrs. Jenkinson dared approach Aunt Catherine, saying, “Pardon me, Lady Catherine, but Miss de Bourgh should rest.” The softness of her voice was in direct contrast to the intensity of her stare.
Aunt Catherine’s pulse throbbed at her temples, but she nodded her head. Mr
s. Jenkinson led Anne out of the room and Darcy heard Mrs. Molly speak with them as the stairs creaked under the footsteps.
Richard broke the tense silence with exaggerated cheer. "Good afternoon, Aunt Catherine. How pleasant it is to see you here. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"
How he could smile at a moment such as this was incomprehensible to Darcy. Tanner looked like he would strangle Aunt Catherine if he uncrossed his arms. Aunt Catherine looked capable of poking Tanner with her pointy cane.
“You are grinning like a fool, Fitzwilliam. It does not suit you. Or have the residents of Hertfordshire ruined you too?”
Here it came.
"You wish to know the purpose of my visit?" Aunt Catherine turned her glare away from Tanner and Richard to focus on him. Great.
Darcy took a deep breath and steadied himself.
"I am here to discredit certain rumors about my nephew forming an attachment to a young lady of inferior birth. What have you to say about that, Darcy?"
There it was. The accusation that Elizabeth was unworthy of their family. He had thought he was prepared to hear it, but his blood boiled with more anger than he had imagined himself capable of. He closed the distance between himself and his aunt, looking down at her from his superior height. He was unafraid of her and her sharp cane.
He felt Tanner's hand grasp his shoulder. Darcy was wound up as tight as a carriage spring and his immediate reaction was to lash out against his brother who dared restrain him, but he controlled himself. He looked at Tanner, who met his level gaze and squeezed his shoulder as if to remind him not to lose his temper. Fine advice from one who was so often provoked.
Darcy felt Richard move to his other side. Another reminder to hold his temper. Darcy took a deep breath and cleared his focus.
He would do nothing to satisfy Aunt Catherine's curiosity until he first got the information he required. It was a much more humane — and far more effective — way of frustrating her. "Who is the source of this rumor?"
"You confirm it is merely a rumor?" she snapped.
He would not make it so easy on her. "I neither confirm nor refute it. Who is the source of the rumor?" he repeated.
"Mr. Collins." She offered nothing more.
"What did he tell you?"
"He seemed to think I would be pleased at the news of your attachment to one of his country cousins … one Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Is her uncle not in trade and her father's estate in a state of disrepair?"
Mr. Collins. Darcy should have known. The clergyman meant well, but he did not know when his assistance was unwanted nor when to keep his mouth shut.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman and, as such, she is my equal."
Aunt Catherine gasped. "You dare compare your elevated station to one so insignificant, her name is unknown amongst the beau monde?"
"You would regard her as insignificant because she is not recognized in society? Of what use has society been to us?"
Society could hang itself for all the value Darcy placed upon it. Aunt Catherine lived in constant fear of becoming the brunt of its malicious gossip, and his mother had accepted the dalliances of his father because society had taught her to look the other way while pretending to be the adoring wife. It had killed her. And how did society reward its handiwork? His father had died miserable and friendless.
No, Darcy cared not for what society thought of him nor Elizabeth. The fact that she refused to be impressed or intimidated by those who would look down on her only served to reaffirm his decision to make her his wife. As soon as he could convince her to have him. There was that small detail … though his patience grew thinner by the second.
"You dare defy society when you were born into it? Your position in the first circles demands the consideration of your peers." Aunt Catherine's lips pinched together so tightly, they were rimmed in white.
"I will choose what is best for me and those for whom I am responsible. It is my decision and mine alone. I will permit nobody authority over me when I am able to make up my own mind."
"And is that what you have done? Have you chosen to forsake your own cousin and bring reproach on the Darcy name by marrying a nobody?"
He would bring no more reproach— not even close— than what his own father had brought on the Darcy name.
"I cannot forsake Anne when I have given her no promise —" he stopped, the words choking in his throat when Mrs. Molly rushed into the room with a complexion the color of his aunt’s powdered hair.
The rim of Mrs. Molly’s cap trembled. Looking anxiously between Tanner and Aunt Catherine, she said, "Please, Miss de Bourgh is …" She wrung her apron in her hands, looking down at the floor.
Tanner stepped forward, reaching out for her. "She is what? Calm yourself and speak plainly, Mrs. Molly."
Aunt Catherine's cheeks had lost all color. She stood frozen in her haughty posture in defiance of bad news.
Mrs. Molly looked up, her eyes shut like a child believing herself to be invisible so long as she saw no one. "Miss de Bourgh has suffered an —"
"Enough!" interrupted Aunt Catherine. "I will see to my daughter. No doubt, she was overly fatigued from our journey and merely needs a dose of tonic from our family doctor. There is no need for talk, do you understand?" She eyed Mrs. Molly with a stony glare until the nervous housekeeper cracked her eyes open.
And then Aunt Catherine did something Darcy had never known her to do. She pulled out some coins and handed them to Mrs. Molly.
"For your silence," she said as she marched out of the room. When Mrs. Molly followed her, Aunt Catherine astonished them further by refusing her assistance and ascending the stairs alone.
Tanner moved a chair over to Mrs. Molly, who looked like she might collapse at the slightest provocation. She slumped into it and rubbed her free hand over her face, shaking her head back and forth. Finally, after some time, she straightened her spine and, with a firm nod, she held out the coins for Darcy to take.
"I cannot accept these, sir. I understand her ladyship's reason for giving them to me, but I am now well aware it is not merely her daughter's future at stake, it is yours as well. My conscience will not allow me to remain silent when you should know what I just saw."
Darcy's pulse hammered in his head. She spoke as if her news could adversely affect his future. It must be horrible news for Aunt Catherine to separate from her precious coin to hide whatever it was she wished to bury.
"Very well, but I insist you keep the coin."
"I cannot, Mr. Darcy."
"You cannot return it to Lady Catherine. So long as what you have to tell me remains a secret within these walls, I see no reason why you cannot dispose of the coin for the benefit of another and thus appease your conscience."
The trimming on the front of her cap bobbed up and down as she nodded enthusiastically. "Mrs. Thorne will use it to assist a family in need. She is a good woman." Mrs. Molly took a deep breath. "I pity your aunt, as will you, once you understand why she insists you marry her daughter. Are you certain you wish Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Tanner to stay?"
"They are my family. They stay."
The longer Mrs. Molly took to reveal Aunt Catherine and Anne's horrible secret, the more convinced Darcy was that he needed his best friends by his side. Lord knew they could be trusted to keep a secret.
Chapter 6
Dinner at the Bennet household was an excited affair. After spending a good part of the afternoon planning Kitty's upcoming wedding feast with Aunt Philips, making plans to stitch the acquired lace on her gown for the ceremony, and the return of Mr. Darcy with Colonel Fitzwilliam, there was much to discuss. Or rather, much to listen to while Mother chattered endlessly about how all of her girls would be engaged by the end of the year. It was December. It would take more than an Act of Mother to see her dream come to pass.
Elizabeth retired into the drawing room with her mother and sisters, leaving Father at the table to sip his port at his leisure and read what remaine
d of the newspaper after Lydia and Kitty had attacked the gossip columns.
Settling in with a novel, and wishing it was The Female Quixote instead of the book she had already read twice, Elizabeth observed Mary struggling to concentrate on the sermons she normally devoured. Her mind was clearly on rose bushes. Oh, if only Father had been at home to receive his gift.
Occupying herself in various ways to hasten the hours until Mr. Darcy would call the next day, Elizabeth stared into the fire. Mrs. Hill came in to stir the logs. The dear housekeeper, old enough to be her grandmother, winked at Elizabeth when she returned the fire iron to its stand. With a cautious glance at Mother, Mrs. Hill signaled for Elizabeth to follow her out of the door.
Mrs. Hill’s company being preferable to her book, Elizabeth was more than pleased to join her. What was the housekeeper up to?
“Mrs. Hill,” Mother’s voice pulled them back from the doorway. “If you are helping Elizabeth plan a secret meeting with Mr. Darcy, I should very much like to know about it.”
As if Mr. Darcy would agree to sneak around when he could court her openly and honestly.
Shaking her head emphatically, Mrs. Hill said, “No, ma'am. I merely heard some news concerning Miss Elizabeth, and I thought it best to share it with her in private. I did not wish to bother you.”
“News? Concerning my Lizzy? Well, it must be about Mr. Darcy, and so I must insist on hearing it!” Mother clambered to her feet from the settee.
“Ooh, I do love to hear the gossip!” added Lydia, rising to join them.
Poor Mrs. Hill’s crestfallen face reflected her distress at their unwanted company. Looking apologetically at Elizabeth, she sighed. Mrs. Hill could not discourage Lydia from hearing whatever her news was, and Lydia would pay no heed to anyone other than Mother (and even then it was debatable).
