by Jann Rowland
A stray thought crossed Lady Catherine’s mind, and she grinned to herself, hiding her smile behind a sip of her tea. Her brother would no doubt call her a matchmaker should he discover what she intended to do. But matchmaker was such a gauche term, and one which did not convey the full import of what she meant to accomplish. Lady Catherine would not forget that the young people possessed the power of choice with respect to their own lives. But she hoped they would see what she had seen.
“I wish to speak of your daughters, Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine at length.
“They are behaving, are they not?” said the woman with a hint of worry.
“No, you need not concern yourself.” Lady Catherine smiled to put the woman at ease. “In fact, they have been model guests. With just myself and Anne for most of the year, I often long for some other feminine company. I am glad they have agreed to stay with us.”
“Then how may I help you?”
“I merely wish to understand your opinion on several matters.”
“Of course,” replied Mrs. Bennet.
“First, what is your opinion of my nephew, Mr. Darcy? Miss Elizabeth has informed me that you met him in Hertfordshire.”
Mrs. Bennet stared at her through suddenly wide eyes, akin to the look of a hare being stalked by a fox, and her response was atypically hesitant. “Well . . . Mr. Darcy, he . . . Well, I am not certain . . .”
“You may speak frankly, my friend,” said Lady Catherine. “Your daughter has told me something of his time in Hertfordshire.”
An expression of complete affront came over Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy was very disobliging—very disobliging, indeed. He was nothing to his friend, Mr. Bingley, who was everything agreeable and friendly. And Mr. Darcy slighted my Lizzy, you know. I do not doubt she had plenty to say of the man.”
“In fact, Miss Elizabeth seems to have allowed the matter to rest in the past. She claims to have no injuries to resent.”
Once again, Mrs. Bennet seemed shocked.
“And as for Mr. Bingley, I can well believe that he was everything charming, but so he is with everyone. Furthermore, according to Darcy, he tends to fall in love often, falling out of love with equal frequency.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped. “Are you saying he is inconstant?”
“I am saying he is young and inexperienced, Mrs. Bennet. Compare Mr. Bingley to my nephew Darcy, for instance.” Mrs. Bennet made a face, but she did not interrupt. “Darcy has had the responsibility of his estate since he was two and twenty, and he was brought up to know his duty. He is a gifted master, knowing instinctively what is required in any situation. All his tenants and his servants consider him the best of masters. If he has a failing, it is a tendency to an excess of gravity and difficulty speaking with those he does not know. But that deficiency might be corrected, at least in part, by a vivacious wife, can it not?”
The only response Lady Catherine received was a blink. She smiled to herself, for she knew she had enticed the fish to the riverbank. Now it was time to bait the hook.
“Then let us speak of Mr. Bingley. He is an amiable man, at ease in any company, and a great favorite among all the ladies. But he is almost five years younger than Darcy, he has never had to see to an estate, never had to do anything other than draw the interest of his fortune to support himself. He has never had to do any work, never had to fend for himself, has never been required to make decisions when matters depended on him. Even when they were in Hertfordshire, I have it from Darcy that he himself was obligated to meet with Netherfield’s steward in Mr. Bingley’s stead, as the man was often engaged in other activities. Darcy was only in Hertfordshire to assist his friend in learning how to manage his estate, yet Mr. Bingley took little interest. Now, which of the gentlemen would you rather have responsible for your daughter’s welfare.”
In truth, Lady Catherine felt for Mrs. Bennet. She was essentially a simple woman, for whom a truth was a truth that could not be disputed. She had clearly held it as an inviolable opinion that Darcy was a man of mean temperament, and Mr. Bingley was amiable. Lady Catherine understood she was upending the woman’s opinion of the world. Fortunately, she knew exactly how to make it better.
“I do not say this to criticize Mr. Bingley, but it is clear that he has not yet attained that soberness of mind which comes with maturity and experience. Darcy is clearly the better catch, Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Bingley is a good man, and some day, I believe he will be a good husband to some young woman. But that time is not now.
“Both of my nephews are good men, both are independent, and both have much to offer to a wife. As I said, Darcy will improve in company with the right wife. My other nephew, the colonel, has no need, as he is already at ease in any society, but his life may be fulfilled if he takes the right wife. I believe that each of my nephews will find exactly what they require in your two eldest daughters.”
For a moment, Lady Catherine was worried that Mrs. Bennet might not have heard her, let alone understood what she was trying to tell her. But then a slow smile settled over her face.
“Are you suggesting that your nephews might be induced to marry my daughters?”
“I merely suggest that there is a possibility that they might suit. If we point out their relative merits, I am certain they will do the rest themselves.”
Mrs. Bennet actually clapped her hands in her excitement. “Of course! You may speak to your nephews, and I shall deal with my daughters.”
“Exactly. But gently, Mrs. Bennet.” Lady Catherine shared a secret smile with the woman. “They must not think they have been directed by meddling relations.”
“Of course,” replied Mrs. Bennet, her eyes alight with the fire of determination. “If all goes well, we shall be connected twice over!”
“We need only to gently guide them, my dear Mrs. Bennet. Everything else will fall into place.”
The discussion continued for some time, and Lady Catherine attempted to stem the tide of Mrs. Bennet’s exuberance. In the end, she knew that the woman’s daughters were aware of her character, so if she said some things which were not precisely decorous, they would likely not think much of it. Her enthusiasm must be kept from Darcy and Fitzwilliam, however, for they would almost certainly dig in their heels, should they be aware of the machinations occurring about them.
In all, it was a good start, she thought. Fitzwilliam and Darcy would be happy—that was all Lady Catherine wanted. If Mrs. Bennet would not be quite the most desirable relation, at least she was good hearted, and with a little guidance, she would still be acceptable. The happiness of the young people was the paramount consideration.
While Lady Catherine and her mother were plotting Elizabeth’s future happiness, she herself was enjoying a constitutional which had taken her some ways into the woods behind Rosings. They were perhaps even more beautiful than the groves near her home in Hertfordshire, though Elizabeth would be hard pressed to own it. There was something about her home which demanded her allegiance.
In the time since the Bennet sisters had been staying at Rosings, Elizabeth and her sisters—or at least Jane, for she did not think Kitty or Lydia cared two figs—had attempted to come to know Miss Anne de Bourgh better. It would be a much more comfortable situation if the woman was at least polite to them, even if they never became friends.
But it was all in vain. Though Miss de Bourgh displayed a veneer of polite manners, Elizabeth was able to discern the woman’s barely concealed contempt for everything Bennet. A query would bring about a sneer, and a kind comment, a sharp retort. Soon, knowing she would eventually lose her temper if she persisted, Elizabeth decided to leave the woman to her own devices. It did not follow, unfortunately, that Miss de Bourgh was equally willing to ignore the Bennets.
That day when Elizabeth returned to the house after her walk, she soon came across Miss de Bourgh and was greeted with the woman’s usual frosty scorn.
“I see you have been out walking again,” said she, her voice fairly d
ripping with contempt. “How quaint.”
“As you see,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot imagine why you are surprised. I did not hide the fact that I am fond of walking.”
But Miss de Bourgh only ignored her words. “I prefer my phaeton,” said she. “It allows me a better view than I might have if I walked, and it allows those who work the estate to see me and know I am their mistress.”
“Perhaps,” said Elizabeth, wondering at Miss de Bourgh’s pride. “But it is not very beneficial in terms of exercise. I walk as much for the benefits as the love of nature.”
“It only proves to me your common upbringing,” said Miss de Bourgh as she turned away. “Those of higher society would not care to walk when there are other means available to them. I pity you, Miss Bennet, as you have nothing to recommend you, and will almost certainly never attract a man to you. I, on the other hand, already have my future secured.”
And with those final words, Miss de Bourgh was gone. Elizabeth could only shake her head. To think the woman considered walking an activity for no one but commoners! Elizabeth had never heard such a ridiculous thing in all her life. Perhaps Miss de Bourgh was more than a little eccentric. Elizabeth was certain there were many of the upper echelons of society who were more than a little peculiar.
Chapter V
The days following were much the same for the Bennet sisters at Rosings Park. Lydia and Kitty found their time occupied by various activities, many of which seemed designed to force them to grow and become something more than they were at present. Lady Catherine was never overt in proclaiming what they needed to do to become accomplished young ladies, and her methods were effective as a result, for surely young ladies as ungoverned as Kitty and Lydia would have found reason to protest otherwise. Elizabeth even found Kitty with a book of Shakespeare in her hands, and her sister confided in her that though she had not enjoyed Hamlet when she had attempted to read it, she found the comedies much more to her taste. Lydia steadfastly refused to read anything other than a novel, but as her behavior was better and she was attending to those things she did with at least some determination, Elizabeth did not see fit to take her to task over her reading material. Nor did Lady Catherine, it seemed.
Jane and Elizabeth enjoyed their time as well. Elizabeth walked with Jane accompanying her on occasion, and they kept Lady Catherine company at other times, while pursuing their usual activities. Elizabeth found that Lady Catherine was not only kindly, but also intelligent and well read. She found she had as much pleasure from debating literature with the lady as she had ever had with her father. The only blight on their pleasure was the continued insolence of Miss Anne de Bourgh. The woman continued to sneer at any Bennet she came across, and though Lady Catherine admonished her several times to be more tolerant of their guests, it was all for nothing; the woman had decided to be displeased, and displeased she would be.
There was still much congress between the Bennets staying at Rosings and those remaining at the parsonage. Mrs. Bennet came to Rosings almost every day and sat with Lady Catherine, and a stranger friendship could not be imagined. Her mother was not changed much, and Lady Catherine was a quite different personality, but still they talked and laughed, and perhaps even plotted, for all Elizabeth could not understand of what they could conspire. Mr. Bennet also came from time to time, but his purpose was to visit Lady Catherine’s library and borrow books, which she allowed willingly. As for Mary, her unofficial courtship with Mr. Collins seemed to be proceeding apace.
“It is the most amusing spectacle,” said Mr. Bennet, chortling with delight when Elizabeth asked him about it. “Clearly the man has no notion of how to make love to a woman. He simpers and preens and makes love to my daughter by venerating his patroness and boasting of his enviable situation at all hours of the day. I dare say if he was as effusive in his praise of Mary as he is of his patroness, he would have proposed, been accepted, and been married by common license by now!”
“And Mary?” asked Elizabeth, having expected no less of Mr. Collins. “How does she bear his effusions?”
“I know not. Mary seems to listen carefully to what he is saying, but she never displays any hint of what she is feeling.” Mr. Bennet paused for a moment. “Of course, even should he compliment Mary, I doubt we would see much of a reaction from her. She is as inscrutable a young lady as I have ever seen. Your mother, though she initially stayed to ensure that the courtship between them proceeded without impediment, now considers them as good as engaged. I am certain you have noticed that she now spends more time at Rosings than she does at Hunsford.”
“And you, Father?” asked Elizabeth. “How are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am quite pleased. I have the run of Lady Catherine’s library, which is almost as extensive as my own and contains many works I have not read. Mr. Collins provides almost continuous amusement, and I could not wish for more. Should he suggest we extend our visit, I am of mind to oblige him!”
Of Mr. Collins himself, Elizabeth saw relatively little. He seemed to have some sort of disinclination for her that Elizabeth could not quite explain, but she was not about to question her good fortune. Lydia and Kitty, of course, could find nothing pleasing about Mr. Collins and were content to remain at Rosings. As for Jane, she was attentive and polite as ever whenever Mr. Collins did appear, but Elizabeth was certain Jane did not wish to be in the man’s company any more than Elizabeth did herself.
When they had been at Rosings for some two weeks, Mr. Collins invited the four Bennet sisters at Rosings to the parsonage one evening for dinner. He delivered the invitation in person, noting: “You are my family, after all, and I should not like to completely cede your company to my patroness, though I know staying at Rosings to be an experience highly edifying and much better than anything my poor parsonage could provide. Still, I would see to my duties as your host, if you will.”
“Of course, we will attend,” said Jane, with nary a hint of exasperation for the man’s interminable speech.
“Anne and I will have a quiet dinner together,” added Lady Catherine. “I shall call for the carriage to convey you to Hunsford and back at the appropriate time.”
What followed was, unsurprisingly, a long soliloquy from their cousin on the gracious condescension of his patroness. Though the Bennet sisters were each grateful in their own ways, such barefaced flattery was beyond their ability to withstand, so they busied themselves with other pursuits.
It turned out that Mr. Collins had a specific reason for inviting them that evening, and it concerned the arrival of Lady Catherine’s nephews, who were to come the following Monday.
The dinner was excellent; as Elizabeth had noted before, the woman who cooked for Mr. Collins knew her business and provided him with excellent meals. The family sat at his table, partook of his food, and, in general attempted to ignore the constant flow of words which tumbled from his mouth. Mr. Bennet watched him with amusement as he normally did, but there were also several other conversations carried on around the table. Elizabeth was certain that Mr. Collins was not even aware that he was not the sole focus of their attention.
It was when they had been seated at the table for some time that the tenor of the man’s voice suddenly changed, and he regarded them with something akin to sternness. Of course, sternness in such a silly man was all relative, and to Elizabeth, the only thing he accomplished was to give the impression of being constipated.
“I do have a matter of which I would like to speak with my cousins staying at Rosings. For, you see, I have it on good authority that Lady Catherine’s nephews, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, will soon be arriving at Rosings to stay with her ladyship.”
“Yes, we have heard of it,” replied Elizabeth. “In fact, I believe you may have been there when Lady Catherine informed us of it herself.”
“Well am I aware of it,” said Mr. Collins. The look he pinned on Elizabeth was colored with more than a hint of distaste—Elizabeth found she could bear his cont
empt cheerfully. “In fact, I suggested to Lady Catherine that for the length of her nephews’ stay my young cousins return to the parsonage. Alas, she is as generous as she is accommodating, and she would not hear of it. And as I will not contradict her ladyship, there is nothing to be done—you shall remain her guests while her nephews are present.”
“What are you saying, Mr. Collins?” asked Mrs. Bennet. “Are you suggesting that my girls do not know how to behave toward Mr. Darcy?”
“Of course not, madam. But I believe there is some cause to take care while they are in residence. It would not do to offend such great men.”
It appeared to Elizabeth that her mother wished to say something to the parson, for her mouth opened several times. In the end, however, she kept her silence, though it appeared she was sorely pressed.
“I believe you worry for naught, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth. “You forget that we have already met Mr. Darcy. By all accounts his cousin is an affable man.”
“I have not forgotten it, Cousin. But I believe I must still insist upon your good behavior. Lady Catherine, in her infinite good humor, allows a certain . . . informality of manner. She is everything that is pleasant and agreeable, of course, and though I have never met them, I must assume that her nephews are the same.
“But Colonel Fitzwilliam is not only a worldly man and a member of our illustrious military forces, but Mr. Darcy is a man of high stature, sober, respected, and deferred to by all. Though my cousins, in general, show manners which are commendable, there is, at times, a decided want of propriety among you, not to mention a certain impertinence which Mr. Darcy must inevitably find intolerable.”
