Papa saw me. “No!” he cried. He came towards me, but Mama tripped him and he fell across a chair.
“Look at what he has done to me!” Mama said.
“You hurt Papa’s nose,” I accused. At that moment, old Mrs. Moore arrived with all apologies to my parents, and I was hurried back to my rooms.
The next morning, I was called before my parents and told that Mama was going to be living in the dower house in a fortnight’s time. But before that happened, Papa became sick.
Why is this coming back to me now? Why do I dream of the horses shrieking? Or is that also a memory? —A de B
Chapter 11
Schemes & Observations
Friday, 17 April 1812, Rosings,
the small summer breakfast parlour
The niece and nephews of Lady Catherine de Bourgh noted in silence the aimless agitation of their aunt throughout the morning meal. All were mainly quiet, what with Georgiana’s natural reticence and the newly hatched quarrel between the two gentlemen. Her ladyship often seemed about to speak but managed only nonsensical mutterings and false starts.
Colonel Fitzwilliam wolfed down his meal and stood to bow himself out of the room, saying he had some urgent letters to write. The brother and sister remained, deep in their own thoughts.
I suppose the balmy bastard is off to write Mr. Bennet, Darcy fussed privately. Ought I to write? No…it would be improper, although the man should know about Wickham. My letter may not have convinced Elizabeth of his perfidy; however, now that she has met Georgiana, she must understand. Still, Mr. Bennet has other daughters requiring protection…and I might slip a word in about Alex and Elizabeth, preparing the way.
What charming ladies the Miss Bennets are. Georgiana cautiously eyed her brother, but he was lost in his own musings. What stops my brother from paying his addresses to Lizzy? She appears to hold him in high regard if her blushes of yesterday afternoon are any indication. Why does he push our cousin at her when he so plainly has his own feelings? And shall we not be seeing more of her as she sorts through Anne’s clothes? Of course, he will not be a party to that, but still… Oh! I know!
“Lady C-Catherine…” Georgiana began hesitantly.
Their aunt looked at Georgiana as though she had forgotten the girl and her brother were in the room.
“Would it be inconvenient… Um, uh…” Georgiana glanced at her brother, who appeared quizzical.
Darcy nodded his support for he knew not what, but if Georgiana felt courageous enough to ask a favour of their aunt, he was ready to play his part.
“May I invite the ladies from the vicarage in for tea this afternoon? Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth’s eldest sister has arrived. I met her yesterday and took tea with them. I should like to return their kind invitation… I believe you will find Miss Bennet quite agreeable.”
Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow. “You were invited there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Darcy spoke quickly. “She has formed a friendship with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Alexander and I have encouraged it.” He nearly winced, waiting for the burst of invective he felt sure would follow.
Lady Catherine’s mind had wandered. She looked vaguely at Georgiana. “As you wish, my dear, as you wish. Though I may not attend you, and I shall certainly not be present if you include Mr. Collins.”
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Georgiana responded, wide-eyed. “Just the ladies.”
While she could not like that Darcy and the colonel were allowing such a confederacy of women from mixed classes to develop, Lady Catherine was wholly distracted by other concerns. “Send a footman to me when your guests arrive, and I shall look in if my time allows.”
She stood and left them without a notice for Georgiana’s hurried curtsy and Darcy’s bow. She had not been gone more than a moment, without enough time for brother and sister to comment on this new form of oddity, before a footman entered with an express for Darcy. It was from Bingley.
The Hurst’s, Grover Grosvenor Street
London
Daer Darcy,
How delightful fortitudinous! [Darcy smiled, assuming his friend meant “fortuitous” and was taking the trouble of finding—or inventing—four syllable words.] Had not your note arrived when it did, this morning would have seen me off to Bathe with my relations. The rare opportunity of doing you you a favour service is one I would lothe to miss.
I expect to be with you by noon twelve o’clock noon with my carriage to follow slowly, as carriages do.
Best regards and faithfully,
C. Bingley
Darcy grinned at the letter, for once feeling nothing but affectionate forbearance with his friend’s errors of penmanship and spelling.
“You seem pleased,” Georgiana teased, sensing his lightened mood.
“Charles Bingley will be here in time to greet the ladies from Hunsford when they call this afternoon. He is acquainted with them, you know.”
She made a slight frown. “I was perplexed by some of the conversation between the ladies yesterday. Was there something—a failed courtship, perhaps—between Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet?”
Darcy gave her an arch look. “It is my intention to see it all mended.”
Later that day
Lady Catherine’s private sitting room
“Sit, Nephew.” Lady Catherine ordered Colonel Fitzwilliam to take the chair she had positioned in front of hers. It had a low seat, and if she sat particularly straight, they would be at the same height.
“I am surprised by your summons. What have you to accuse me of? Oof!” The colonel sank into the cushion with his knees higher than his waist.
“Accuse you?”
“Darcy informs me that you have accused him of being the father of Anne’s unborn child. I was with my regiment throughout the winter, I assure you.”
Lady Catherine frowned and waved his impertinence off with an impatient hand. “I know who the father was, and I expect you to uphold the family honour.”
“Do you?” The colonel’s attention was engaged, and he sat forward in his seat. “Who? No wait…I want a chance to solve the puzzle. Might I have a clue?”
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “This is not some parlour game, Nephew.”
“Do not be coy then, ma’am!”
His aunt waited until he was no longer chuckling before hissing, “Mr. Collins.”
The colonel looked about them as if the named man had entered the room. “What about him? Do we await his attendance before you will reveal all? I suppose this is the kind of information one would like to repeat as little as possible.”
“Silence! Insolent puppy! Mr. Collins was the father.” Lady Catherine raised her eyebrows to see how her larking nephew would like the truth.
There was silence. The colonel turned red with the effort not to laugh but finally exploded with loud guffaws.
Looking thoroughly annoyed, Lady Catherine paused until her nephew was merely giggling and wiping his eyes.
“Have you proof?” he finally gasped.
“I do. Your cousin kept a journal, going back to her twentieth year. She wrote daily, sometimes morning and night. The entries are of little consequence, as you may imagine, until the past year. Coming into her fortune changed her and not for the better. The second half of last year is missing, July through December complete. This year’s beginning journal was just found and brought to me yesterday. It indicates Mr. Collins is the culprit.” Lady Catherine chose her words carefully. “And apparently the local midwife knew. I have sent word to interview her. Likely she is telling tales even now…”
The colonel’s eyes continued to water with suppressed amusement.
“Why are you not outraged, sir?” Lady Catherine asked with some heat. She reared back her fan to slap her nephew, but his quickness in thwarting the blow
astonished her.
“Because I cannot take you seriously. What would you have me do, call out William Collins?”
“Precisely. That is precisely what I would have you do.”
The levity of the situation diminished rather precipitously. “Are you suggesting I engage in an illegal activity?”
“Anne’s honour must be defended. You are a respected officer, your father is a well-placed peer of the realm, and I am not without influence. Nothing would come of seeking retribution against a philandering country vicar. It could certainly be hushed up.”
“If I may remind you, murder by duel is a capital offense, no matter who engages in it or the provocation. Anne has left Rosings Park to me. She would not have her heir jeopardise himself. What she wanted was for me to settle here immediately with her choice of wife.”
Lady Catherine sat with balled fists. “And her choice?”
“Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Gah!” Lady Catherine beat her fists upon her knees. “No! Promise me you are not engaged to her, nor that you will become so.”
The colonel smirked insolently. “I promise, dear Aunt, that I have no intention of making an offer to Elizabeth Bennet. You have my word.”
She heaved a relieved sigh, but then looked back at her nephew’s face, sensing a prevarication. “Yet a letter was sent from you to her family’s seat…”
He silently cursed her servants. “My promise stands. I shall never marry Elizabeth Bennet.”
Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow and hummed between her lips. Setting her shoulders, she asked again, “Still, you will not defend Anne?”
“At the risk of my freedom and life? No, I shall not.” Colonel Fitzwilliam stood.
Once more, he allowed himself to be diverted by the situation. “Are you certain, completely and irrevocably certain, that Anne was referring to Mr. Collins? I simply cannot accept…”
“Go, Nephew. I have no use for you.”
Lady Catherine had only her fan in hand to throw at the laughing back of her stubborn nephew, and it flew with a flutter, wide of its mark. “Then what must be done, I shall do myself.”
Meanwhile, in the main drawing room of Rosings
When the ladies from the Hunsford vicarage were shown into the room, Georgiana and Darcy were standing together, happy to meet them. Mrs. Collins glanced around the room as though looking for someone then curtsied her greetings, followed by the Bennet sisters. Jane wore a pearlescent grey that Darcy thought quite flattering to her complexion. He mused on the kindness the women at the vicarage showed by joining in the general air of mourning with their choice of gowns.
Jane advanced, holding out a hand in greeting. “Mr. Darcy, I am sorry for your family’s loss. I should have said as much yesterday.” She curtsied as he nodded over her hand.
“You are very kind, Miss Bennet. My aunt may be joining us any moment, as well as another guest to Rosings only lately arrived. Please”—Darcy directed Jane to Georgiana—“make yourself comfortable.”
Georgiana smiled timidly at Jane, and they sat together upon a settee facing the doors. Darcy bowed to Maria Lucas and nodded at Elizabeth, who would no more meet his gaze today than she had done the prior afternoon.
Charlotte spoke when she saw Elizabeth would not. “Another guest?” She had noticed that, although Darcy and her friend seemed to be striking up a better friendship since the funeral, in the last two days, Lizzy had withdrawn. “This may be the largest party I have seen at Rosings apart from the funeral gathering. I trust Lady Catherine enjoys the larger audience?”
Darcy smiled enough to show his dimples. “My aunt is closeted with Colonel Fitzwilliam for reasons I know not. But she has always encouraged Georgiana and me to treat Rosings as our home. Even though this is a time of mourning, I have taken the liberty to invite a friend.”
Maria, with a young girl’s guileless enthusiasm, had moved to the table between two windows upon which was artfully heaped every manner of cream cake and preserved sugared fruit. Georgiana rang for the tea service to be brought, and an awkward silence descended.
Elizabeth moved to a window beside the refreshment table, but turned suddenly when she heard a familiar voice preceded by the rapid advancing of a man’s steps on the intricately inlaid floor.
“I say, Darcy, Georgiana, I must apologise for being late. Are the ladies…?”
The voice of Charles Bingley trailed off to nothing as he found himself face-to-face with Miss Jane Bennet.
Jane stood abruptly at the sound of his voice.
“Miss Bennet!”
“Mr. Bingley!”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy, who was watching her. He raised his brows, gave her a little nod of irrepressibly gay satisfaction, and moved to the other window flanking the refreshments.
Bingley bowed with unnaturally stiff formality as Jane made the most ungraceful curtsy of her life.
“Your family was well, Miss Bennet, when you left Longbourn?”
“Certainly, sir, but I have been in London these past few months since the turn of the New Year. I know they are well only by letter.”
Bingley gaped a moment before recovering. “All this time! And you have not called?”
Jane looked down to hide a smile that everyone could still see. “Ladies do not call upon gentlemen, Mr. Bingley.”
“But my sisters…”
“Were not true friends to me, sir. I shall not pretend otherwise.”
Elizabeth wanted to cheer and glanced at Darcy’s calm profile.
“B-but at Netherfield…” Bingley stuttered.
“I was but an amusement to them, a trifle.”
The servants entered with the tea service, and all was quiet until the footmen receded. Georgiana acted as hostess in the absence of her aunt, adding leaves from an ornate Chinese chest to the teapot.
Bingley made another attempt. “I do not remember a happier time than those few short months we spent in Hertfordshire.”
“Ah,” replied Jane, “that must explain the unexampled rapidity with which you returned once you had gone.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flew wide, and she spun to face the window, fearing that, once unbridled, Jane would say too much. Again, Elizabeth glanced at an unmoved Darcy. Enough, Jane…enough!
The room was silent. Darcy continued to look out the window. Although he had never before been half so well entertained in that room, he knew he must accept the blame for his friend’s discomfort.
Bingley sighed and grew serious. “Miss Bennet, may I call upon you tomorrow? Perhaps a walk after breakfast if the weather holds fair?”
Jane smiled serenely. “I would be most pleased, Mr. Bingley. A private apology for subjecting a lady to months of her neighbours’ pity cannot come too soon or be more welcomed.”
Bingley paused a moment. “Welcomed?”
“Yes. A lady will always welcome the apologies of a truly amiable gentleman.”
“Amiable? I am…you think?”
Jane smiled at him.
Darcy turned in time to see genuine regard in the eyes of Jane Bennet. Hers was the smile of a woman making sport with a man for whom she felt a real affection. Jane could tease as readily as her sister, it appeared, if more gently. He glanced at Elizabeth’s profile.
“Yes, I have always said you are the most amiable man of my acquaintance—that is, when we are in acquaintance. When you are in London and I am in London, and you do not know it, you are not nearly so amiable.”
Bingley laughed. “If you like, I might apologise now. We need not waste the morning.”
Jane continued to smile. “No, sir. I would prefer you have the night to perfect any little compliments with which you might wish to embellish your statement.”
Elizabeth involuntarily choked on a laugh before covering her m
outh though she did not turn into the room. At last, Jane takes Charlotte’s advice!
Darcy had seen enough and turned back to the window. After hearing Elizabeth’s laugh, he chanced a look at her.
Elizabeth sensed his eyes upon her and felt hot and cold together. Mr. Darcy’s shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict upon his friend was, in an instant, put to rights. And in that instant, all wrongs of which Elizabeth had ever accused him—every blame so liberally bestowed—were dissolved away, leaving in her heart astonishment, confusion, and a pain she could only assume was a healthy measure of unrequited love.
Darcy was watching her still, so she plucked up her courage, met his eyes, and whispered with great care, “Thank you.”
Darcy could not hear her. Charlotte was laughing with Jane and Bingley while Georgiana and Maria poured the refreshments and murmured instructions to each other about how the guests took their tea. But Darcy had dreamt of the lips of Elizabeth Bennet often enough to heed their meaning.
He smiled at her, opening his heart. He had never felt such love for another human being in the whole of his life. He had done this for her to protect her heart from his cousin’s fickle turn—to make right what he had blundered over—and she had thanked him. There was nothing for it but to meet her enchanting eyes and smile as only a man in love might. She began to blink back tears, and he fought to keep from careering through the food to take her in his arms.
Elizabeth stood motionless. Her inclination was to glance behind her to see whether Georgiana was there, attracting Darcy’s smile. But no, Georgiana was approaching from the tea table; Darcy’s look was for her alone.
“Lizzy?” Georgiana held out a cup of tea to her.
The moment was broken, but Elizabeth had seen it, and she would never forget. Mr. Darcy had smiled at her as if still in love. It was the smile of a man eager to please. She had to place her cup and saucer on the table, for it was quite full, and her hands were shaking too severely to avoid dowsing her borrowed grey- and white-striped gown.
A Will of Iron Page 11
