by M-C Ranger
‘You are most certainly wondering where your cousin is and whether she is doing well.’
‘That goes without saying, Lady Catherine,’ Darcy replied, laconically.
‘Rest assured, she is doing well. She simply needed to rest before being presented to dinner. Knowing of your imminent arrival, I attempted to dissuade her from going out, but she insisted on going out in the phaeton with Miss Price. As I wrote to you, Fitzwilliam, my dear Anne is doing better and better.’
‘Lady Catherine, we can but rejoice in this news,’ reassured the colonel.
The mistress of Rosings paid him little attention; her gaze fixed on her other nephew showed clearly what she was expecting from this visit, something she had been awaiting for at least five years, as Anne had, just a few months ago, reached the same age as the heir to Pemberley. When would he finally decide to marry her daughter? Not being of a patient disposition, Lady Catherine had to temper her actions and words and then compel herself to the role of spectator, something which was not in her nature, watching the development of this project that was so very dear to her. Richard Fitzwilliam, who was aware of all these negotiations, decided to turn the conversation towards a topic that was particularly dear to his aunt.
‘In your last letter, you informed Darcy that you had the pleasure to receive the viscountess Dalrymple and the honourable Miss Carteret. Are these ladies doing well?’
‘I believe that their stay here at Rosings gave them the opportunity to rest, especially as they were then returning to Bath, where they were to spend another few weeks. Anne, whose health does not allow her to regularly spend time with young women of her standing, appreciated the arrival of Miss Carteret.’
‘I am happy to learn that Anne found pleasure in this visit,’ said Darcy, in a tone that was as neutral as possible.
How best to show a certain amount of interest in his cousin without falling into the traps set by his aunt? It was a fine line he was walking on, one that required Darcy to tread lightly in order to maintain this balance each time he came to Kent. Having had to practice for a long time, he usually managed to escape unscathed, but as time passed, the pressure became more pronounced. He realised that he would soon have to deal with this misunderstanding, and that he would clearly pay the price in a heated discussion.
‘I always wondered,’ the colonel continued, by way of a distraction, ‘if General Dalrymple, who negotiated the Convention of Cintra after the defeat of the French forces under Junot at the Battle of Vimeiro, was in some way related to the viscountess.’
‘Certainly, there is a connection,’ replied Lady Catherine, reluctantly. ‘Sir Hew Dalrymple is a late relative to the viscountess. But Lady Dalrymple is not inclined to speak of this.’
‘This is rather understandable,’ Darcy added quickly, remembering the inquiry that followed the Convention.
‘Indeed,’ concluded the colonel, who, in hindsight, would have preferred that there be no connection when he noticed that his aunt was casting a suspicious look at him.
Lady Catherine did not at all tolerate any criticism towards people whose company she kept and whom she held in esteem due to their good qualities, these pertaining in particular to their rank in society, their fortune, or the size of their estate. How could her nephew dare raise this issue, he, the youngest son of an earl, whereas her rector, the son of God only knew whom, had perfectly understood this?
‘Darcy,’ said Lady de Bourgh, turning towards him, ‘it seems that I shall not have to present you to certain visitors of Hunsford. Reverend Collins and his wife explained to me that you had already made their acquaintance when you were staying in Hertfordshire. Am I correct?’
‘Indeed, Lady Catherine, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Collins before her marriage, and...’
‘That is what Sir William Lucas told me,’ interrupted the mistress of the estate. ‘May I inform you that he left Thursday morning. However, Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet, who accompanied him, remained. You shall see them shortly.’
Darcy became pale and he looked towards the window from which one could see the gravel pathway leading to the parsonage. Miss Bennet... Which one? He closed his eyes briefly, in the time it took him to remember that Charlotte Collins’s best friend was truly Elizabeth. She was thus here, right next door, and he would have to attend to her, without giving himself away, in the presence of his cousin...
‘Lady Catherine, it will most certainly be pleasant to keep company with people from Hunsford during our stay,’ declared the Colonel, who had some difficulty hiding his enthusiasm.
It must be noted that he was speaking from experience; their stay in Kent was generally associated with boredom and inactivity. At the same time, Darcy attempted to pick up the thread of the conversation, hoping that he’d concealed his discomposure from the others.
‘It is true that these people contribute a certain agreeable quality to our evenings, especially since the departure of Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret. There is, however, a guest whom you do not know, Darcy. Mrs. Collins has staying with her a distant cousin, Miss Price, who is very well educated and whom Anne has magnanimously granted her friendship.’
‘Well, I think, considering my ties with these people, that it would be cordial on my part to present the Collins with my wishes for their happiness, as well as to give my regards to Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet. How would you like to join me, Colonel? Do not fear, Lady Catherine, we shall return in time for tea.’
And before Lady de Bourgh could even voice an opinion on this topic, Darcy had bowed briefly and had left the room, with Richard Fitzwilliam, dumbstruck by his peculiar behaviour, hot on his heels. It was unheard of! Since when did proud Fitzwilliam Darcy make it is business to greet insignificant people in places he seldom visited? When he was going down the grand staircase leading to the main entrance, Darcy turned to look at his cousin and saw his inquisitive look.
‘A simple matter of courtesy, Richard.’
‘I had no doubt of this for a single second, Fitz!’
Her favourite walk took Elizabeth towards a small forest that extended along one side of the park, and she went there frequently while her hosts were going about their daily business and Fanny was out with Miss de Bourgh. She had discovered a winding pathway that led to a small clearing where nobody seemed to go, and where she felt she could escape from the indiscreetly prying eyes of Lady Catherine. And so off she went, happy to find herself alone, to read under the leaves of a willow and to forget, for a short time, the quarrels of her youngest sisters, her mother’s nerves, the barely concealed reproaches of her sister Mary or her cousin’s acrimonious comments.
[…]
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
[…]
Suddenly she remembered Jane’s heartache and the attempts she made to hide her sadness. She continued to read Wordsworth for another one or two pages, and then lifted her gaze to take in the beauty of her natural surroundings, so wonderfully depicted in his poem. Her gaze drifted past the chimneys of the grand Rosings residence. Her thoughts shifted to condescending Lady Catherine and then, surreptitiously, to her no less haughty nephew. He who, according to George Wickham, was to marry pale and serene Miss de Bourgh, a strangely mismatched couple, it must be said! From Mr. Darcy, her thoughts naturally turned to Charles Bingley. How could he let himself be manipulated by his two sisters? Was he not the master of his decisions? Had he not seen the interest Jane had in him? It was true that her oldest sister was the epitome of dis
cretion. With a family such as theirs, it was better to keep one’s thoughts and emotions to oneself. It was simply a question of survival. As her reflections had cast a shadow over her mood, Elizabeth decided to return to the rectory. Charlotte would soon return and a conversation revolving around an embroidery stitch, a cucumber plant or any other rather domestic subject would be welcome. But it appears that she would not have this type of conversation so soon.
She slowed down before reaching the gravel roadway, to catch her breath and retie the ribbons of her hat. Mr. Collins did not appreciate when young women of good family, especially if they were related to him, were not perfectly attired - and restrained - at all hours. Alas! Before she could adjust her appearance, the door opened abruptly and her cousin emerged. He, seemingly befallen by a certain anxiety, looked to his right and then to his left, and finally saw her. It appeared that she was the one he was looking for, judging by the look of displeasure on his face.
‘My lord! Cousin Elizabeth, where were you? You seem out of breath, and your hat... What will our visitors think when they see you?’ lamented Mr. Collins, beyond a state of frustration.
Elizabeth was tempted to reply that she could easily turn around and disappear in a little wooded area so as to offend nobody, but she acquiesced when she thought of her friend.
‘Charlotte did not tell me that you were expecting visitors, otherwise I naturally would have stayed in the drawing room,’ declared the young woman, hoping to somewhat calm her relative by showing her goodwill. ‘In addition, I did not see a carriage in front of the house, so I did not even imagine that you might have visitors.’
‘There is no sense in discussing this any further, cousin Elizabeth, we have been waiting for you in the drawing room for a good quarter of an hour,’ said William Collins, pointing towards the door, which had remained open during their exchange.
And thus, Elizabeth made her entrance, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling, never mind the state of her boots and the hem of her gown. Two gentlemen immediately stood up and bowed in her direction. Still blinded by the bright sunlight, she could only discern the silhouette of the visitors. It wasn’t until presentations were being made that she recognised a voice. How could she forget the owner of this deep voice with its somewhat arrogant and sometimes spirited inflections and whom she’d challenged more often than not? Mr Darcy! She tried, as best she could, to put a few strands of hair back in place while she removed her hat; the result was hardly convincing, of this she was fully aware. Against all expectations, she began to laugh, to laugh at this absurd situation where it would have been required that she keep up her appearance, but she could not, nor did she wish to. Mr. Darcy had, on numerous occasions, made it clear to her, through his often haughty looks and especially through his disparaging remarks at the Meryton party, what he thought of her. So Elizabeth would allow him to seek solace in the opinion he had of her, period. While these thoughts were racing through her head, she nevertheless had the wherewithal to return the visitors’ greetings. It was a certain Colonel Fitzwilliam who addressed her in a very pleasant manner. Perhaps he was blind, after all! No, he seemed rather amused by the situation and was even more amiable as the conversation progressed. Fortunately, Charlotte and Fanny, as well-educated young ladies, had steered the conversation towards ordinary common topics: the weather, the beauty of the area, the state of the roads, allowing Elizabeth time to collect herself. Feeling herself watched, she lifted her eyes and met the intense gaze of Fitzwilliam Darcy. The latter, who appeared bored by his host’s pompous rhetoric, smiled at her contritely. Without giving it any thought, she returned his smile, but quickly realised that her behaviour had been untoward. She attempted to correct this and showed some interest in Colonel Fitzwilliam. She discovered that this slender man, in his early thirties, while perhaps not as handsome as the master of Pemberley, made up for this through his obvious distinction, his great congeniality and a good sense of humour, which made him not at all unpleasant.
‘We come here every year to spend some time at Rosings to help Lady Catherine manage her estate. This work has been relegated to my cousin and not to me, as you can imagine.’
‘And how do you fill your days, Colonel?’ asked Maria Lucas who, once her shyness before these illustrious visitors had dissipated, once again found her spontaneity.
‘Ah! Miss Lucas, I have a horse saddled and I traverse the fields. I dust the billiards room and I bring some vitality to the rather quiet life of my cousin Anne,’ he confessed, laughing.
Then, turning to Fanny Price, he added, ‘It seems that Darcy and I must extend our thanks to you, Miss Price, for the kindness you exhibit towards Miss de Bourgh. My aunt mentioned, as soon as we arrived, how much her daughter enjoys these outings with you in the phaeton.
‘The pleasure is all mine, Colonel. Miss de Bourgh is charming, and during these outings, she has exhibited much friendship towards me, I feel moved.’
‘And you, Miss Bennet, it appears, according to what Mrs. Collins has said, that you roam all the nooks and crannies of the area,’ said Richard Fitzwilliam, teasingly. I believe I saw proof of this, just a few short minutes ago.’
Elizabeth could not help but blush on hearing her arrival alluded to. To her great surprise, it was Mr. Darcy who came to her rescue.
‘Miss Bennet, you were not warned that my cousin had spent much time in army barracks and must adjust to high society. It seems that this adjustment still requires some fine tuning.’
‘Oh! But your cousin is still somewhat correct, Mr. Darcy. And since the colonel appears to be very skilled, he would therefore not be repelled by the prospect of a walk of at least three miles and the sight of a pair of dusty boots. At least I hope not,’ added Elizabeth, mischievously.
The colonel burst out laughing. Darcy was unable to suppress a smile, which only broadened when the young woman slightly raised an eyebrow provocatively and looked at him intensely for a few seconds. He acknowledged the talent Elizabeth Bennet had for wit, something he greatly appreciated in her. He then came to the realisation that he had missed this, and that he would gladly have requested it again. But the magic disappeared a few moments later when she asked him if he had come across her sister Jane in London, as she had been living there for a few months. While the question had been asked innocently enough, he thought he detected a certain motive on her part. This is when Maria Lucas decided to explain that they had come through London on their way to Kent and that Elizabeth and she had benefited from this opportunity to go out with Jane and meet some of her friends. The details provided by the girl gave Darcy the chance to collect himself and to state, in a tone that he hoped to be as neutral as possible, that he had not had the honour of crossing paths with Miss Bennet, as he had worked a lot in the past few months and had not left his home often. A terrible liar, his cousin would have declared, and Darcy would have been unable to contradict him, especially when he saw Elizabeth raise an eyebrow, this time in a more scrutinising manner. In the end, when the two gentlemen left, after greetings befitting the occasion, it seemed obvious that the colonel would have very much liked to have stayed longer, and that Fitzwilliam Darcy would have liked to shorten their visit.
Chapter III
In which different circumstances lead to
different decisions which in turn
lead to different results, which in turn,
were perhaps unexpected.
Elizabeth was enjoying a leisurely walk with Charlotte Collins. The perfectly rectilinear pathways in the vegetable garden had not a single weed. Her cousin made it his duty to eliminate every intrusion on his plant kingdom and this earned him the compliments of Lady Catherine, in which he took great pride. The young ladies stopped before the lettuce plants with their light-green leaves.
‘Something tells me that the lettuce will be excellent in the weeks to come, my dear Charlotte,’ stated Elizabeth, the hint of a smile on her lips on addressing her friend.
‘You are correct, Lizzy, this is what
I pointed out to Mr. Collins this morning before he headed to his office, where he was to meet with Mr. Elton. It was Fanny who noticed the vigour of the bean plants climbing up the trellis to your left.’
Elizabeth admired the plants, and above all the kindness exhibited by Fanny Price; she never seemed exacerbated by the endless and uninteresting verbosity of William Collins. Having quickly forgotten the revelations of his wife regarding a certain refusal, he could but think highly of a young woman so solicitous of civility, so sensible regarding etiquette, so esteemed by Lady Catherine. Alas, he could not say the same of his cousin Elizabeth.
‘Fanny has gone to the village with Maria; they will return within the hour. I worried about imposing a guest upon you at the last moment, but I can see that you seem to be getting along famously.’
‘Come, Charlotte, who could not appreciate Miss Price? I find her charming and I enjoy her company; however, at times she seems distraught. If this refused marriage proposal and this forced stay in Portsmouth where this young man came in an attempt to sway her in her decision are the reason, I fully understand her preoccupation. Perhaps she fears that he may renew his proposal and this is the cause of some bewilderment to her?’
‘There is more to it, Lizzy, but I do not know if Fanny would allow me to broach the topic. She very much fears that this could reach the ears of my spouse, and therefore, those of Lady Catherine. If you would like my opinion, she absolutely does not deserve their disapproval, especially after the letter she received, which caused her to come stay in Hunsford.’
