by Jennifer Joy
"I will be back shortly to ensure that all of Miss Bennet's belongings make their way here," said Mr. Darcy, signaling to Mr. Collins that it was time they depart.
“Take care of the lock on the trunk. It is broken.” Elizabeth wished the ground would swallow her whole, or that she could think of something better to say than to warn the gentlemen of her faulty latch. She choked the tears back, but she had held them back for too long, and they threatened to betray her.
Mrs. Smith mercifully chose that moment to see Elizabeth to what would be her room during her stay. Elizabeth turned back, hoping to catch another glance or comforting word from Mr. Darcy, but all she heard was the jingle of coins as they transferred from Mr. Darcy to Mr. Smith's hand and the sound of the men’s voices as they walked toward the waiting carriage.
Elizabeth appreciated the privacy the Smiths allowed her more than she could express. Not one to allow herself to feel defeated for very long, she did permit herself some measure of grief. She finally understood the depth of feeling her mother and Lydia gave to most events, which she felt fully under her current circumstances. She might never see her family again— not if she was allowed to continue living. She might never see Mr. Darcy again. The threat of death hovered over her like a raincloud. It was not unheard of, and caused quite the sensation in the papers when a poor gentleman’s daughter met her end after she was sentenced as guilty for some blunder on her part. Blunder. That was exactly what she was guilty of. She should have told Charlotte of Maria’s mistake instead of assuming Maria had confessed. Maria would have been angry with her, but that was nothing in comparison to the guilt she would have for the rest of her life knowing that her sister’s best friend had sacrificed herself for her. Maybe it was wrong, but Elizabeth liked to think that the girl would suffer from some discomfort of conscience every now and then on her behalf.
A knock broke through her despair. Straightening her shoulders, arranging her hair, and dabbing her eyes with the wadded handkerchief in her hand, she opened the door to Mrs. Smith. The woman glanced over her shoulder, her fingers entwined in her apron. She looked like she bore bad news.
Then Elizabeth heard her. A shrill voice in front of the house insisted, “You will tell Miss Bennet that I have come to see her.”
Mrs. Smith squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers before rushing over to the door to greet Lady Catherine. She curtsied as her ladyship breezed past her and into the middle of the front room.
“Where is Miss Bennet?” she demanded, searching the small space with her squinting eyes until she saw Elizabeth standing in the open doorway outside her temporary room.
Charging over to her, Lady Catherine said, “You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my call. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”
“Indeed, you are mistaken, madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honor of seeing you here.” Though she suspected it had everything to do with her nephew Darcy.
“Miss Bennet,” replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, “you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. Have you formed an attachment with my nephew, Mr. Darcy? Though I saw evidence of it with my own eyes, I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, and I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible.”
Full of disdain at Lady Catherine’s rude behavior toward Mrs. Smith and her insults to her person, Elizabeth said, “If you believed it impossible to be true, I wonder you took the trouble of coming here. What could your ladyship hope to accomplish by it?”
“At once to insist upon having such a report contradicted.”
“Your coming to call at my place of imprisonment will rather be a confirmation of it, if indeed, such a report exists,” said Elizabeth, resolved to sound as cool as her ladyship had when she accepted her confession and sent her away like a common criminal.
“If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Have you not industriously designed to entrap my nephew?”
“I have sought to entrap no one, much less Mr. Darcy.”
“And can you likewise declare that there is no foundation for me to suspect an attachment?”
“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall choose not to answer.” She crossed her arms in front of her, more to keep her hammering heart in her chest than for any protective barrier from the adversary before her.
Exhausting her calm, Lady Catherine shook in rage. “This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”
“Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.” She would never give her the satisfaction of a direct answer. Were her manners any less grating, she might have obliged.
“It ought to be impossible unless he has lost his powers of reason. But your manipulative arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to his family. You may have drawn him in.”
The nerve of her ladyship accusing her of acting manipulatively toward Mr. Darcy— even going so far as to question his sanity! “If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”
“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I am not accustomed to such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”
“Be that so, you are not entitled to know mine. Nor will such behavior as you have demonstrated ever induce me to be explicit.”
Dropping her voice to a hiss, Lady Catherine said, “Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Your confession ensured that as securely as your deal that I keep the Collins at the parish. Besides,” she said with her nose in the air, “Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?”
Refusing to show how Lady Catherine’s words hurt her, Elizabeth said in as steady of a voice as she could, “Only this; that if he is engaged to Miss de Bourgh, you can have no reason to suppose he would make an offer to me.”
“The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. And now, at the moment when the wishes of his relatives would be accomplished in their marriage, I see it threatened by a young woman of inferior birth and of no importance in the world! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his family? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?”
“Yes, and I had heard of it before. But what is that to me? You did as much as you could in planning the marriage, but its completion depends on others. If Mr. Darcy chooses not to marry his cousin, why is he not permitted to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may I not accept him?” She restrained herself from furthering her attack, though she dearly wanted to cut the pompous woman before her.
“Your alliance, not that one is possible anymore, would be a disgrace. After today’s events, your name will never even be mentioned by any of us. Now, tell me once and for all, are you engaged to my nephew?”
She dearly wanted to remain silent, but she desperately wanted the interview to end. Swallowing her pride, she said, “I am not.”
Pleased, Lady Catherine pressed, “And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”
As if such a miracle were possible. Still, not all the fight had left Elizabeth. “I will make no promise of the kind.”
Highly incensed, Lady Catherine said, “Selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you would disgrace him? You are nothing more than a criminal; a low-born daughter of a nobody. In every way you have proved yourself to be nothing more than an obstinate creature bent on ruining Darcy’s happiness. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet
, that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable, but, depend upon it, I will have my way in the end.”
With a final huff, her ladyship turned toward the door and marched out of the house. Elizabeth made it back to her room and closed the door before hot tears full of anger and disappointed hopes poured down her cheeks.
Chapter 29
Disturbed silence fell over the coach after Darcy recounted the events Richard had missed that morning.
"I do not understand it," Richard shook his head slowly back and forth.
"She did it to protect the Collinses and prevent Miss Lucas from experiencing the unpleasant imprisonment she is presently suffering."
"I see. So, we are going back to Rosings to find the real culprit? Are you certain the villain is to be found there?" he asked, not so concerned with Miss Elizabeth's current state as Darcy had expected him to be.
"From the beginning, I have believed this merely a scheme of Aunt Catherine's to prevent me from leaving, thus forcing me to propose to Anne. However, I now know for a certainty that she is not acting alone. Someone is helping her, and I aim to find out who it is."
"Excluding the residents and guests at the parsonage, that leaves me, Mrs. Jenkinson, Anne, the maid, and the doctor." Richard counted on his fingers as he mentioned each person.
Darcy had not considered the doctor, and he had already spoken to the lady’s maid enough to convince him that she was clueless. She was too afraid of losing her post to risk it.
"The real question is: Why? What motive would any of those individuals have? What do they stand to gain by blaming Miss Bennet for the theft of the earrings?" asked Richard, mulling over the facts in his head as he spoke aloud.
"The thing that stumps me is that it was not Miss Bennet who was blamed. She took that on herself out of loyalty to her friends. It was Miss Lucas who looked guilty. Why would someone act against her? She is too timid to cause much trouble. Unless their intention was to see the Collinses out of the parsonage, I do not understand it."
Mr. Collins looked ash white against his black coat and hat.
"Then why involve Aunt Catherine? She has been content with Mr. Collins until these recent events. She could not possibly be involved if that was the goal.” To Mr. Collins, he said, “She would miss your praise and compliments too much."
Darcy sank back against the cushions. What Richard said was true, and they arrived all too soon at the parsonage.
The door opened, but Mr. Collins did not move.
“Mr. Collins, we are at your home. Do you wish to disembark?” asked Richard.
With a large puff of air, Mr. Collins squared his shoulders and said, “I should join you at Rosings. I have some information which will help my selfless cousin and, be it to her ladyship’s approval or not, it must be revealed. My conscience will be uneasy until I have freed myself from this wretched burden I carry.”
Darcy breathed out, “More secrets.” Just what they needed.
Wishing he had more information with which to plan an attack, Darcy had to continue on nothing more than instincts and trust that what Mr. Collins had to say would help Elizabeth. The truth needed to be told today, or else he would forever lose her. Her comments proved that her attitude toward him had changed. He could not be sure if she could overlook his faults so much as to love him, but he would hate himself eternally if he did not try. His jealousy against Richard had fallen flat at their exchange at the Smiths’. Either they were both superb actors, or there were no special feelings between them.
“You do realize why my aunt wants to consult with you and me later, Mr. Collins? Will you comply with Aunt Catherine’s order to read the banns against my wishes?” Darcy asked.
“We shall see. My place here rests on shaky ground, and I recoil from acting contrary to her wishes.”
“One word from me would see you comfortably into another living. If you help Miss Elizabeth, you are helping me, and I would be in your debt,” Darcy said, intent on the clergyman. He would listen to a lifetime of sermons from the dullest gentleman of his acquaintance if it meant he had a future with Elizabeth.
“I assure you that I will do what I can, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Collins in quite possibly the shortest sentence uttered by him in their acquaintance.
Not wanting to waste any time, Darcy told the coachman to take them on to Rosings.
Aunt Catherine was out when they arrived. Darcy did not recollect seeing her on the road. It brought Darcy no comfort when Simmons told him her destination, but it also meant that she would not be away long. He said a silent prayer in his heart for Elizabeth.
He rallied forces in the library, sending for Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson to join them. Darcy asked Simmons to request a meeting with Aunt Catherine as soon as she arrived. It was urgent.
Darcy paced the room, watching the lane leading up to the house from the window. Richard spoke quietly with Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson sat with her fingers laced in perfect repose in a nearby chair, and Mr. Collins gesticulated in his seat, apparently practicing his speech before it must be given to his most unforgiving audience. The occupants of the library understood their purpose in being there and prepared themselves. Darcy did not need to say anything.
After the passing of a quarter hour, Darcy saw the coach make its way up the drive. Another few minutes after that, Simmons called them into the drawing room. Silently, saving their words for when they were needed, they walked through the antechamber and into Aunt Catherine’s lair. She sat in her usual spot, to be flanked on one side by Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson, and by a mural of Marc Anthony and Cleopatra on the other.
Mr. Collins sat across from them, somehow managing to postulate from a sitting position. The man had talent.
"What is this? I arrive home only to find myself surrounded by all those who have disappointed me and set themselves up for mockery," said Aunt Catherine, causing Mr. Collins to break out in a fresh layer of sweat as his face burned red.
Nodding encouragement to the clergyman, Darcy motioned for him to speak.
Through his noted embarrassment, Mr. Collins bowed his head before her, saying, "It is so, your ladyship, and I thank you for your magnanimity toward myself and my wife. I will seek never to disappoint you again, once I have confessed the wrong I have done against those who looked to me for protection as my guests and blood relations. As a man who upholds high morals, I can do no less than admit my fault and throw myself upon your abundant mercy, if you should deem me worthy of your consideration."
Aunt Catherine sat taller in her chair, rather enjoying being treated like a god. Darcy shivered at the imagery in his mind. Aunt Catherine would be a horrible deity. Her stubborn nature and exalted opinion of her own importance prevented her from empathizing with others, much less extending forgiveness. Darcy cringed at the similar tendencies he shared with her. Elizabeth had seen them. He would fight them. Or he would not deserve Miss Elizabeth. For her, he would change. He had changed. He would do everything in his power to keep her happy and put her needs and desires above his own. He would do everything to prove himself the opposite of Aunt Catherine.
Mr. Collins looked up at him. Fear covered the clergyman’s face. It took Darcy a moment to realize that his nervous reaction was in response to the firm determination at his vow to himself. He must look stern and unyielding. So, he made a concerted effort to soften his expression. He thought of Elizabeth as he took a seat near Mr. Collins. Richard sat next to him too, balancing the two sides on either side of the yellow target on the rug.
To further reassure the clammy parson, Darcy added, "It is an admirable quality and a true display of humility to admit one's faults. I hope you are blessed with the ease of conscience which often accompanies a confession of the truth."
Mr. Collins stopped squirming at that and bowed his head in his thankfulness. "I do hope so, Mr. Darcy. Thank you for your kindness. It is in moments like these where one most appreciates the traits which emanate from families of high birth."
Darcy refrained from rolling his eyes. Flattery repulsed him, but it was a smart maneuver on Mr. Collins’ part to make reference to Aunt Catherine's aristocratic connection. She never let anyone forget that she was the daughter of an earl, and thus, exalted above her richer relations.
She waved her bejeweled fingers in the air impatiently. "That is enough, Mr. Collins. You have come with a purpose, and I insist you get on with it."
Scooting forward in his chair, Mr. Collins said, "I hope that you are gracious enough to understand that my motives in doing such a thing were born from the purest intention. My mission in life is to glorify God to the good people in and around Hunsford, thus improving their spirit— their very nature— so that they might prove worthy of living and representing the noble family on whose estate they live…”
Would the man never get to the point? He rambled on and on about how great the de Bourgh name was, second only to the royal family themselves, and first in his thoughts. Darcy's understanding deepened as he continued. His aunt had acquired a worshiper to adore her. Unless his adoration diminished in time, his position was as secure as his aunt's need for admiration. But even she had a limit to her patience.
Interrupting after a few minutes, where Darcy had been lulled into tedium to the sound of Mr. Collins' monotonous tone in the background, she said, "Mr. Collins, you say you have come to confess, yet I hear nothing untoward. Pray tell what you have done."
Darcy looked over at Richard, who sat up in his chair and shook his head as if recently waking. He jutted out his chin to keep from smiling. He did not want Aunt's focus to stray away from Mr. Collins. Mrs. Jenkinson fanned herself and Anne in an effort to remain alert.
Mr. Collins slid forward in his chair again, until Darcy thought he might run out of cushion and fall to the floor. But he stopped himself just in time. How had Elizabeth endured his attentions when they had been focused on her? The man had a lot of nerve, or he was so blind to their differences that he could not see how unsuited they would have been for each other. Most likely, the latter. The slick skin and constant wiping of his sweaty palms against his black breeches contradicted any amount of bravery.
