As soon as they were all settled, Lady Louisa brought up the reason why she had come to Pemberley; she was going to London in a few weeks, and wished to invite Georgiana to go with her, and have a season in town. She was of the opinion that Georgiana needed the society of more young people, “and not young men,” she said, “So much as young girls; she needs to spend more time with young women of her own age. Look how happy she is when she is with Miss Rackham. You need to laugh with other girls, Georgiana, to be foolish if you will; you need to be young.”
“You are right,” said Darcy. “She must leave us old married people to themselves.”
“Well, I see no reason why Miss de Bourgh, if she is well enough by then, should not come too,” Lady Louisa said. “It would be far better for you, my dear, than going back to Rosings; yes, yes, Minette would be welcome. If she comes to London,” she pointed out, “Miss de Bourgh will certainly meet Lord Francis, for he is sure to be there for the season; but she will also meet other eligible gentlemen. After all, with thirty thousand pounds, why should the heiress of Rosings be limited to considering one elderly suitor, whom she does not like? She might do far better.”
“But supposing Lady Catherine decides to go to London?” Mr Bennet asked.
“She will not do so,” said Lady Louisa. “I have known her for five-and-thirty years, and she will never go anywhere that she is not first in importance. That is why she has been so happy at Rosings, where she rules; that is why she likes Burley, where she is outdone only by the Duchess, who treats her as an equal because she hopes for a rich wife for her brother. She will not go to London. But she may well let Miss de Bourgh go; believe me, she sincerely desires what is best for her daughter.”
Anne could only listen, and thank her, and hope.
On this basis, a plan was concocted. Lady Louisa's ball was to take place within a few days; everyone should go, except Anne. Mrs Darcy, of course, was not able to go, and Mr Bennet, who did not like balls, would stay to bear them company. They should all insist to Lady Catherine that Anne was really unwell, and must stay for the time being at Pemberley. At the ball, or more probably the next day (for they must stay the night), they would mention the plan of Georgiana's going to London. Lady Catherine, it was felt, would certainly approve of Georgiana's having a London season, since it would materially increase her chances of getting an eligible husband. Georgiana would then beg as a favour that Anne should join her and Lady Louisa for the season, and Lady Louisa would put forward every argument in her power to persuade Lady Catherine of the eligibility of the plan.
“I am sorry,” Mr Bennet said, “to be of so little use to Miss de Bourgh that I can only assist her by not being present, but it is just as well. I have had letters from home, and I must leave you all pretty soon. My new granddaughter, little Miss Bingley, is to be christened next week, and they seem to think the child cannot become a Christian unless I am there to witness the proceedings.”
There were exclamations of regret, but everyone must acknowledge that it was, indeed, time for him to rejoin his wife and daughters. In addition, he would be able to describe in person all the perfections of little Lewis, “but nobody shall make plans for their marriage,” Darcy said. “Look what a bad thing it is, to decide these matters on behalf of two people, while they are still in the cradle.”
“I have something to tell you, too,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “and perhaps it might be as well not to mention this to Lady Catherine, as we do not want to make her angry. I have been recalled. I must return to my regiment in a very few days; and I find that I do not like the idea of being parted from Mrs Annesley. So I have asked her to marry me, and she has said yes. She has been a soldier's wife before and likes the idea of being one again. We plan to marry very quietly, a couple of days after the ball, and we will leave together immediately after the ceremony.”
There was no one who was not surprised on hearing the news; there was no one who was not delighted. But as for marrying quietly! They were not to think of it, for everyone wished to be there, and as for leaving right after! No! No! there must be a breakfast. Mrs Annesley hastily explained that “quietly” of course meant “only their friends,” and “immediately after” meant “after the breakfast.” In response to a discreet question from Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam explained in an undertone that his godfather, who had recently died, had left him a sum of money quite sufficient, with care and good sense, to support the expense of a family.
Anne could only be happy for them, though when she was alone, it must be a subject for melancholy reflection, to contrast their happiness, and perfect suitability for each other, with her own situation. She grudged them nothing; she could only long for such felicity for herself, and fear that it was not to be.
Chapter 23
Anne enjoyed dancing now, so much that she was very sorry not to go to Lady Louisa's ball; but it could not be. Her head was still tender, and the very thought of an evening of noise, activity, and music made her feel ill. In any case, her mother was hardly likely to believe her still unwell, if she were there. She saw the others on their way, and spent a quiet afternoon and evening with Elizabeth and her father. The dancing party would not return until the next day.
She awaited their return with some confidence. Given their activities and her own letter, she thought her mother might be quite happy to renounce her company at Rosings, and see what London could do for her. What it could do, she was not quite certain; but at least, it would offer her more choices, more possibilities, than life at Rosings. In London, Lady Louisa said, there were groups of people who loved the world of letters; perhaps, among them, she would find a congenial marriage. At the very least, Lord Francis might very likely marry somebody else by the time the season was over.
But all these conjectures were wasted. When they returned the next day, Georgiana almost tumbled out of the carriage, in her haste to tell the news: “Lady Catherine was not at the ball! Neither was the Duchess, nor Lord Francis. No one can imagine what has happened. For the whole of the early part of the evening, they were expected, and with every carriage that was heard to draw up, the news flew round the room, and everyone said 'They have arrived!' But it was not so; they never came.”
What had happened? Had some sickness laid them all low? Speculation had run high amongst those attending, Georgiana said, but nobody knew anything, and at last everyone forgot about them, and fell to enjoying themselves. “My brother and the Colonel have ridden into Burley to make enquiries; so we shall soon know more.” But Darcy and the Colonel returned, and all that they had discovered was that all three had gone; they had left Burley the previous day. No messages had been left; no letter was received at Pemberley; they seemed to have vanished into thin air.
Well! at least, her mother was not about to descend, as Anne had occasionally feared, and require her to jump into the carriage, and be carried away to Rosings. Presumably her mother had gone back thither. “Surely she has!” said Elizabeth, “for there certainly must be matters to attend to, farms to visit, tenants to be scolded, after an interval of so many weeks. Think of the number of people who need new shelves in their closets!”
Undoubtedly they would hear from her in due course, but for now the whole matter was forgotten, as the time rapidly approached for the marriage of Mrs Annesley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. There was no making of bride-clothes, there were no lace veils or bevy of bridesmaids, no display of costly gifts. A special licence having, by Darcy's activity, been obtained, they all went down to the church in the early morning, and the marriage took place at the conclusion of the morning service. How quiet the ceremony was! And how significant! For the first time, Anne observed the fact that, in this most important of ceremonies, only Christian names are used; it matters not whether the groom be an Earl, or the bride, a princess: John marries Mary. Reflecting on it, she found herself thinking—she must think—why could I not marry him; what does rank matter? But in the everyday business of life, she knew, it did.
Mr Ben
net left with the married couple, to share the first part of their journey, until their ways should divide.
Their society was now much restricted, and life at Pemberley became very quiet, but it was a busy, happy quiet. A new master was found, to give Anne her piano lessons; and her riding had improved so much that Georgiana, and the groom, were the only companions she needed. The English summer followed its usual pattern, and a spell of bad weather set in, with rain and cold. It sent Anne to the library, to work steadily on her book. She read it aloud, every evening, and it was almost concluded. None of the Darcys saw any reason why she should not publish it, and various absurd pseudonyms were, at one time or another, suggested.
Then there was an assembly at Lambton, at which Anne, wearing the bronze-green silk, danced almost every dance. Sir Matthew danced with her twice.
A few days later, his mother, together with her younger daughter, Miss Zara Brocklebank, visited Pemberley and, while the girls were strolling about the gardens, had a quiet discussion with Mr Darcy as to Anne's exact prospects. “She did it very well, and one cannot blame them,” Darcy said. “The family has no money, and he must marry well as to fortune. He is a pleasant fellow, and if you liked him, cousin, you could do much worse. Truly, we will not urge you. But I thought it right to drop you a hint, so that you may think it over, and know your own mind.”
Anne thought about it. The date set for the departure of Edmund must have passed; although she had heard nothing, she must assume that he was gone. Even as a beloved guest at Pemberley, she was heartily tired of her single state, which reduced her to the status of a girl, though she was a woman grown. Marriage with Sir Matthew would in many ways be entirely suitable. He was very good-natured; he would be a good steward of Rosings, making few demands for money, as long as he had his horses and his hunting, which the estate could well provide. His rank, his good looks, and his youth would make him acceptable to her mother; and he would not antagonize Lady Catherine with his opinions, for he had none. Alas, Anne could only recall the wedding service she had so recently attended, and “the mutual society, help, and comfort the one should have of the other” would not go out of her mind. It would be a marriage with a man with whom she hardly shared a thought; she could not contemplate it.
Little Lewis continued to thrive, and it was now almost certain that the entire Bennet family, as well as the Bingleys, would come north for the child's christening, in a few weeks, as soon as Mrs Bingley was considered well enough to travel. The question being urgently canvassed by the family was, what should be done about the Bennet sister known as “Lydia.” Should she be invited? Would it be possible to invite her, and not include her husband? Anne felt she would quite like to meet the obviously fascinating Mr Wickham. Surely his eloping with Lydia should be overlooked? They were, after all, married now. But there was something unsaid, some other reason why he was not an acceptable visitor at Pemberley, and it was clear in any case that Lydia herself was not much liked. Elizabeth described her as noisy, silly, and indiscreet, and said that Darcy disliked her almost as much as her husband.
One morning, while they were all having breakfast, Darcy was reading the newspaper. Suddenly he exclaimed “Good G——!” and carelessly setting down his cup, spilt coffee all over the table.
“Whatever is it, my love?” his wife asked.
“When gentlemen are reading the newspaper,” she said to Anne, “expletives are to be expected, but usually it is only some promotion at the Admiralty or some squabble at a Ministry, or some such thing. When it comes to spilling coffee, it is rather more serious. What is it, my love?” but Darcy seemed almost unable to speak.
“She has married him! She has married him!” was all that he could say; and crushing the paper together, he said to his wife, “It concerns Anne; I do not know how to tell her; we should speak together alone.”
“Come, my dear,” Elizabeth said. “Anne is not a child; she can hear it, whatever it is.”
“Indeed I can,” Anne said. “come, cousin, who has married whom? I hope,” she added, laughing, “that it is Lord Francis, then I should be rid of him.”
“It is indeed Lord Francis,” Darcy said, “but he has married…”
“Well?”
“He has married your mother.”
There it was, in all the awful certainty of print, and all the clarity of black and white: On the —th, at Stilbury Castle, in a private ceremony, the Lady Catherine, relict of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, to Lord Francis Meaburn, second son of the Duke of H——.
Lady Catherine had married Lord Francis Meaburn.
Chapter 24
The news struck them speechless. The awesome Lady Catherine was a widow no more! come to that, she was “Lady Catherine” no more; and indeed, for the first few startled moments, Anne wondered if she were still her mother.
This was the reason for her disappearance! this the reason for her silence! once they could speak, everyone had a question, everyone had a conjecture. Elizabeth wondered whose idea the match had been; it must, she thought, be the Duchess who had thought of it. Darcy wanted to know what kind of bargain Lord Francis had driven: “My aunt talked of money being tied up,” he said, “but it is not so easy to tie up the income of a married woman, who is unlikely to have any children.” Georgiana wondered how two such old people could get married.
“How old are they?” Elizabeth asked.
“I do not think that there is so great a disparity,” Darcy said. “I found out the other day, when we thought he might marry Anne—I looked him up in the Peerage—that Lord Francis is three-and-forty, and I believe my aunt is not yet fifty.”
“She is eight-and-forty,” Anne said. “She is closer in age to him than I am, though of course she is older, not younger.”
What could have driven them to such a match? “I think the reason is obvious,” Darcy said. “On his side, money; he needs money very badly. On her side, rank; she has become the sister of a Duchess and, since Meaburn's father is still alive, the daughter of a Duke. She will stay at Stilbury—indeed, clearly, she is already there. She will visit at Deepcombe, the Meaburn estate.”
“But how will she like it, associating with such great people?” Elizabeth asked. “She will not be able to scold and manage them, as she does her tenants at Rosings.”
“Could she get a post at the court?” Georgiana asked.
“I imagine so,” said her brother, “if she wished it, and would be happy to stand, wearing all her diamonds, in silence, for three hours together.”
“Might she be a Duchess, one day?”
“No,” said Darcy. “There are two older brothers, each with several children. A half-dozen people would have to die before she became a Duchess.”
Elizabeth caught her breath on the observation that things often turned out the way Lady Catherine wanted them to, and only thought to herself that she would not wager a great deal of money on the lives of the little Meaburns.
At that moment, the butler entered. “Excuse me, madam, sir, the post has arrived, and there is a packet of letters for Mr Darcy, which must be paid for, and will be quite costly, but I do not know the sender. Should it be returned, or do you know a person named Lady Francis Meaburn?”
“No, I do not…” Darcy began. “Yes, of course I do. Yes, Forrest, yes! Pay; and bring it here as fast as you can. It is my aunt! That is her married name!”
The packet was brought, and was almost torn open in the hurry of everyone to satisfy their curiosity. Clearly, it should have been delivered earlier, but the newspaper had arrived first. It might be some vagary of the post office. “But I wonder if they waited, in the hope of getting a frank,” Darcy said. “I think that the Duke of Stilbury is seldom at home. They may have waited a day or so, and then sent it.”
There were two letters, one for Darcy, and one for Anne, and two legal-looking documents, which turned out to be a copy of Lady Catherine's marriage lines, and a copy of Sir Lewis de Bourgh's Will. “That was what they were waiting for,” said Da
rcy. “Colby must have had to hurry from Rosings to Stilbury with it.”
The sum of the letters was that, “according to established usage,” Lady Catherine's entire assets had been made over to her new husband, as it would all be needed to keep the newly married couple in their station in life. This meant that no provision would in future be made for Anne, “in view of her recalcitrance in the matter of a suitable marriage,” beyond the income she was already receiving from the estate of Sir Lewis de Bourgh. Further, she should not expect the property known as Rosings Park, in Kent, to be bequeathed to her, for, as the Will clearly showed, it was the unentailed property of her mother.
“Established usage, indeed?” said Darcy, “to deprive a daughter of her entire dowry? Lord Francis has driven a hard bargain.”
“More probably his sister,” Elizabeth said.
“However,” her mother's letter informed Anne:
In order to create a proper provision for you, the Duchess has a cousin, the Reverend and Honourable Septimus Whiley, who is willing to marry you. Upon your acceptance, a provision of ten thousand pounds will be made for you. He is currently the incumbent of Munge Parva, near Stilbury Castle, with a stipend of six hundred pounds a year. He should be a highly suitable husband for you, as his tastes are literary and his habits scholarly. He has been for the past ten years engaged on a learned commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, and will be glad to have an amanuensis to copy out his manuscript in a fair hand, and prepare an Index.
In addition, on the demise of Mr Bennet, Mr and Mrs Collins will vacate the living of Hunsford, by previous arrangement with me, and remove to Longbourn. At that time I shall present the living to Mr Whiley, and you will remove to Hunsford Parsonage, and live near, though not at, Rosings.
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