by Jann Rowland
Determined to discover what was happening in her home, Lady Catherine walked down the hallway, noting as the sound seemed to turn to laughter. So intent was she on what she was hearing, Lady Catherine almost bumped into her daughter, who had appeared from the entrance hall.
“What is it, Mama?” asked she.
“I am not certain, Anne,” replied Lady Catherine. “But you may be assured that I intend to find out.”
The footman stationed outside the door to sitting-room bowed as they approached, and Lady Catherine’s keen eye noticed that he winced when the volume suddenly increased and sounded angry again.
“Who is within the sitting-room?”
“I believe everyone other than your ladyship and Miss de Bourgh.”
“And this loud argument has been going on how long?”
“Since Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy returned, some five or ten minutes gone. They were escorting the two eldest Bennet sisters, and Mr. Collins was chasing behind them.”
Why Mr. Collins would be following the two couples, Lady Catherine had not the slightest notion. It was likely the man had misconstrued something—he was not the most intelligent specimen. Lady Catherine had thought his behavior of late had been odd, even for him, but she could not imagine what had incited this strangeness in her house.
Lady Catherine motioned to the man, and he opened the door, and the noise spilled out of the room, a great wave pouring out into the hallway. Lady Catherine would not have been surprised had the loud cacophony of voices been heard all the way to Hunsford! But what shocked her the most was that Darcy—who had never become violent, even when confronted by the sins of that libertine Wickham—was holding Mr. Collins by his jacket and threatening bodily harm.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Lady Catherine in a loud voice.
All at once, the noise ceased, and the occupants of the room all turned to stare at her. For a moment, no one spoke.
“Once again I ask: what is the reason for this argument? I might have thought this room was inhabited by a horde of common rowdies, all intent upon destroying my sitting-room.”
“Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Collins, incongruously the first to regain his wits, “I am grateful you have arrived, for I have a matter of great import to share with you. Though I would not injure yourself or your excellent nephews, a grave miscarriage of justice is occurring under your roof, and I am ashamed to say that members of my own family are complicit in this travesty. I beseech you to make your opinions known to all, so that this perfidy might be brought to a halt before the situation becomes irredeemable.”
The parson’s long-winded and interminable speech brought Lady Catherine’s already fraying temper close to the breaking point, though she managed to swallow her annoyance with difficulty. The glare she directed at Mr. Collins instantly had the man bowing and scraping, and she could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Mr. Collins,” said she, “unfortunately, since you have not seen fit to inform me of the nature of this travesty, as you call it, I have no idea what I must say to prevent it. Might I ask you to be more explicit?”
The stupid manner in which the parson stared at her for moments after she spoke made her wonder what she had been thinking to offer him the living at Hunsford. She had known he was quite possibly the densest man to whom she had ever been introduced, but she had trusted in her own ability to mold him into something better than he was now. It was apparent her confidence had been nothing more than hubris.
“Explicit?” asked Mr. Collins after some hesitation.
“Yes, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine, her annoyance beginning to spill into her tone. “You have informed me of a travesty under my roof, but you have yet to state what it is. If you wish me to act, you must be more forthcoming. Now, what has got you so worked up?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lady Catherine saw Elizabeth covering her mouth attempting to hold in a laugh, and her father was in the same straits. Most of the others were looking at Mr. Collins with either amusement or disgust, though Kitty and Lydia were the only ones not attempting to hide their mirth. Darcy appeared ready to skewer the parson where he stood.
“Of course, your ladyship,” said Mr. Collins, bowing low several times, reminding Lady Catherine of a chicken pecking at the ground. “How silly of me to have forgotten. I was so caught up in my righteous indignation that I completely forgot that I have not yet made you aware of what has been happening. I had thought several times to speak of it, but I was assured of my ability to handle the matter, and furthermore—”
“Now, Mr. Collins!” snapped Lady Catherine, her patience gone.
“It is all my cousin’s fault!” screamed Mr. Collins. He turned and pointed at Elizabeth, his tone and gesture wild. “She persisted in chasing after your nephew in defiance of all that is good and right, and nothing I said could induce her to desist.”
“Miss Elizabeth pursuing my nephew?” asked Lady Catherine incredulous. “Whatever can you mean? As far as I was aware, Darcy was doing the pursuing.”
The way Mr. Collins’s eyes bulged from their sockets, Lady Catherine wondered if they would pop right out of his head. “Surely not! I know that Mr. Darcy is destined for your wonderful flower of a daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh. He could not possibly prefer my cousin when such a delicate ornament is before him.”
“You think Darcy is engaged to my daughter?”
“Of course! I am aware of all the particulars, and so are the Bennets. And yet Miss Elizabeth has refused to give up her hopeless pursuit of him!”
“Mr. Collins!” said Lady Catherine. “Where did you get such a ridiculous notion as this? Darcy and Anne are not engaged.”
If Lady Catherine had been concerned for the man before, now she wondered if he might expire right before her eyes. He watched her, vacuous surprise flowing from him in waves. His mouth moved, but nothing was issuing forth from it. She might have thought he was suffering from an apoplexy.
Mr. Collins was hopeless, so Lady Catherine turned to her daughter, noting the guilty color which had risen in her cheeks. So that was what had happened.
“You spoke with Anne, and she told you of this engagement?”
The man appeared incapable of speaking, so he nodded his head in a vigorous fashion. Lady Catherine wondered if his head might detach itself from the neck due to the abuse it was suffering.
“And because of this intelligence, you have tried to separate Darcy from Miss Elizabeth?”
More nodding ensued. Darcy only glared at the man and growled: “He has taken it upon himself to interfere with us whenever we are in company. Then he attempted to suggest that Miss Elizabeth must marry him to preserve me for Anne.”
“I would never marry such a toad,” said Elizabeth, her glare impaling Mr. Collins. For his part, Mr. Collins stared back at her, and Lady Catherine was surprised at the virulence of his apparent antipathy for her.
“I would not expect you to,” said Lady Catherine, nodding at Elizabeth. “There is a man in the room with whom you are well suited, and it most certainly is not Mr. Collins.”
“But Lady Catherine—”
“Be silent, Mr. Collins,” snapped Lady Catherine, thinking of the mess before her now. “Did you not think to come to me to confirm what Anne told you?”
“But she is your daughter!” wailed Mr. Collins. “Should I not expect that her heart and mind would be as one with yours?”
“Apparently not.” Lady Catherine turned to Anne, who had taken a nearby chair and was pouting. “Anne, what can you mean by this silliness? It is bad enough that you pine for Darcy when he does not wish to marry you, but then you involve Mr. Collins in this mess when you know what will likely happen.”
“I mean to marry Darcy,” said Anne, her back straight and defiant.
Lady Catherine only shook her head. “Anne, Darcy is not engaged to you. My conversation with my sister was nothing more than idle speculation between
two sisters. We agreed on nothing, and we did nothing legal to seal the match.
“My sister, you see, wished for her son to be happy, and she was certain that happiness would come with the choice to find his own wife. I would never do anything to frustrate my sister’s wishes. Her children are as dear to me as you are.
“It is time for you to relinquish this fantasy, Anne. Darcy is not for you.”
“But, Mama—” protested Anne.
Lady Catherine interrupted her daughter, though not unkindly. “No, Anne. You may not force your wishes upon your cousin. It is clear he has decided on another, and if I may say so, I have known you suit each other ill, indeed, for many years now. It is time for you to attain a little more maturity and set your sights on another who is more receptive.”
Though Anne sulked, Lady Catherine thought she was finally reaching her daughter. A thought occurred to her, and she decided to voice it, though she suspected Anne would not take it in the manner she might wish. “Consider this, Anne: you are the scion of not only the house of an earl, but also a baronet. Perhaps you might wish to consider looking for a spouse in a different sphere. Perhaps you might even consider restoring our line to the nobility, for Rosings is an attractive dowry, as you know.”
A slow smile came over Anne’s face, as Lady Catherine had suspected it would. “A viscount or maybe even an earl?” asked she.
“Perhaps,” replied Lady Catherine. “Fortune and standing are important, Anne, but of more importance, I would see you happy. If these things bring you happiness, then I would not disapprove.”
“Very well,” said Anne, and with a haughty look at Darcy, she continued: “I shall marry someone of higher standing, then. Darcy may have his country miss.”
“Thank you, Anne,” said Darcy, “for your magnanimous blessing. Please believe me when I say I wish you equal felicity in marriage as I am sure I will have.”
Lady Catherine did not think Anne recognized the sardonic edge in Darcy’s voice, for she only smiled and nodded regally at him before turning away altogether. For her part, Lady Catherine heaved a sigh of relief—she had despaired of ever reaching Anne and ending this hopeless infatuation of hers. Now, perhaps, she would turn her attention to finding a husband, though Lady Catherine knew she would need to keep a close eye on her daughter to ensure she did not attempt to choose anyone objectionable.
“Then if your daughter is not to marry Mr. Darcy,” spoke Mr. Collins, “he should search for someone of greater standing.”
Elizabeth turned her attention to the parson, and she noted the intense dislike the man had somehow developed for her. As she could not say that it was not returned in full, she decided she did not care for his opinion.
“Surely there is no cause for him to bring such degradation on his noble line as he would by marrying Miss Elizabeth,” continued Mr. Collins. “I am sure your ladyship would prefer a more eligible match for your nephew.”
“And you would be incorrect, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine shortly, her patience with her parson almost exhausted. “After all the trouble I went through to ensure they were afforded the chance of falling in love, you cannot think I would disapprove at this late stage.”
Mr. Collins went a deathly shade of white. “Lady Catherine! Surely—”
“Be silent, Mr. Collins,” snapped Darcy. “I do not understand this unreasoning hatred you possess for Miss Elizabeth, but I will not hear another word against her.”
“I believe I can tell you,” said Elizabeth, her own look spearing the parson. The man returned it with equal ferocity. “He resents my intelligence and the fact that I am able to talk circles around him at any time of my choosing. I think he also despises my liveliness, when his life is all dullness and ponderous nothings.”
Mr. Collins glared at Elizabeth, but Lady Catherine could not help but wonder if she was not correct. Though it was of no consequence, Lady Catherine thought Mr. Collins did not understand himself why he disliked her. He truly was a dense, foolish man.
“I am sorry, but if I may?”
The entire company turned to Mrs. Bennet, who had spoken, and Lady Catherine was amused to see the woman so unsure of herself. She had a good heart, which was what had drawn Lady Catherine to her, but she was not much cleverer than Mr. Collins.
“Of course, Mrs. Bennet. What do you wish to say?”
“I only wish to ask . . . That is to say . . . I would like.” Mrs. Bennet stopped and visibly gathered herself before saying: “You intended for my Lizzy to capture Mr. Darcy?”
“I did not intend for anyone to be caught, Mrs. Bennet.”
“Though that is essentially what happened,” said Mr. Darcy quietly. The way that he and Miss Elizabeth were looking at each other made it obvious to them all how they felt about each other.
“Perhaps,” said Lady Catherine, delighted to be proven correct. “But yes, I thought that Darcy and Miss Elizabeth would suit very well, indeed, and I believe my point has been amply demonstrated, has it not?”
Mrs. Bennet licked her lips. “But I had thought you meant to promote my Jane to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“I have nothing against your second daughter, Mrs. Bennet,” said Fitzwilliam, “but I am much more attracted to your eldest. With her quiet fortitude and reticence to temper my garrulity, I think we shall do fine together.”
“Why did you think Jane and Darcy would suit, Mrs. Bennet?” asked Lady Catherine.
“Well . . .” The woman’s eyes darted toward her daughters. Her reasons were clear to Lady Catherine—and likely to Jane and Elizabeth too, if not most of the room. But Lady Catherine had no interest in humiliating her in front of them all.
“It appears we have suffered a miscommunication, Mrs. Bennet. As I said before, I merely wished to give these young people a chance to become better acquainted and learn whether they were compatible for themselves. Had Jane preferred Darcy and Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam—and their sentiments been returned, of course—they would have found their ways to each other, and I would have been proven incorrect.”
“We all know that is simply not possible—” said Mr. Collins, though a look from Lady Catherine silenced him. She had no patience for his groveling at present and even less for any attempt to once more worm his way back into her approval.
“I am as fallible as anyone else, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine, her stern glare informing him that further comment would not be welcome. For once, the man took the hint.
“Mrs. Bennet, did you not note how your daughters were often to be found in their current attitude? Did you not notice the attentions Darcy paid to Elizabeth, and how Fitzwilliam made love to Jane?”
“I—” But the woman could not say any more. She had been too busy trying to arrange things in the way she thought they needed to be, rather than simply allowing them to come to their own understandings.
“It was clear to me,” said Mr. Bennet. He turned a sternness on Darcy and Fitzwilliam, which was belied by the twinkling in his eyes. “Of course, neither of these young men have deigned to approach me for permission, and since I assume proposals have been tendered, that is a serious oversight. Is it not?”
“I have proposed and Jane has accepted,” said Fitzwilliam. “It was, however, just this afternoon, so I may defend myself. You may expect a visit from me as soon as this farce is concluded.”
Mr. Bennet grinned and saluted Fitzwilliam. “I shall be waiting for you, Colonel.”
All eyes then turned to Darcy, but rather than be made uncomfortable by the scrutiny, Darcy only turned to Elizabeth and raised an eyebrow at her. “It seems to me that I have asked the all-important question, but I believe Miss Elizabeth was interrupted before she could reply. How say you, Miss Elizabeth?”
The girl seemed to find the situation amusing, for she giggled, prompting another dark look to be thrown her way from Mr. Collins.
“I believe it was my own doing, Mr. Darcy,” said she. “But
since you have been so good as to prompt my memory, I will favor you with a response. Yes, I would be happy to accept your proposal.”
Darcy grinned and grasped her hand. He turned to Mr. Bennet and said: “It appears that I, too, have been accepted. You may expect my own visit after Fitzwilliam’s—or before, if I can beat him to it.”
“Not on your life, Darcy,” replied Fitzwilliam easily. “Not only was I first, but as the elder, marrying the eldest daughter, I believe I have precedence.”
“If it will prevent fisticuffs,” said Mr. Bennet, “perhaps you could attend me together?”
The company laughed at his quip, relieving some of the tension. Lady Catherine noted that even Anne chuckled at Mr. Bennet’s joke, though Mr. Collins still glared at Elizabeth with distaste.
“Two daughters engaged!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “How am I to ever bear the happiness?”
“I hope you are not disappointed, Mrs. Bennet,” said Fitzwilliam.
The lady smiled at him, a hint of shyness coming over her. “I am not, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Though I misunderstood what was happening, I could not be more pleased. My girls deserve this to have husbands who love them. I am certain they will be very happy with you both.”
“You may be assured of that, Mrs. Bennet,” said Darcy with a bow. “It will be my lifelong task to ensure Elizabeth is as happy as I can make her.”
“Come, Mr. Darcy, that would not be any fun,” said Elizabeth, mischief in her every word. “I am fond of a good argument, you know. I absolutely insist we have at least one argument a month.”
“Lizzy!” cried Mrs. Bennet, even as the rest of the company laughed. The Bennet matron was startled, then appeared a little shamefaced as she understood her daughter’s tease.
When the mirth had died down, Mrs. Bennet once again spoke. “I do hope you will make an attempt to respect your husband, Lizzy. Though it appears that Mr. Darcy does, indeed, prefer a lively wife, his position in society demands that you bring honor to his family.”
“I believe you have no need to concern yourself with such things,” said Darcy. “I am certain Elizabeth shall bring great credit to my family name, and I have no doubt she will confound any naysayers with her usual éclat.”
