by Jane Odiwe
The handsome carriage swerved once more as it came to a shuddering standstill. There were more shouts of anger as its occupant called to be let out and as she stepped down aided by a servant in livery, Elizabeth could have died as she recognized both the traveller and the familiar crest on the vehicle door. As Mrs Darcy stared, the countenance of the lady she knew only too well became increasingly thunderstruck, her jaw slackening and her mouth dropping open.
Undaunted by this formidable presence, even though she was well aware that she must look a fright in her mud splattered cloak and shawls sitting atop a donkey carriage, she had no trouble finding the courage to speak.
"Begging your pardon, Lady Catherine, but I believe if not for Nicholls's careful handling we could have had a nasty accident here. It was your coachman who was driving too fast and with little regard for anyone else on the road," Elizabeth began as she stepped down from the cart. "If anyone needs scolding, it is he!"
Chapter 17
Lady Catherine de Bourgh looked Mrs Darcy up and down with such an expression of horror and contempt it was all Lizzy could do to keep her nerve. "Does your husband know that you are running around the countryside dressed as a gypsy riding in a donkey cart, Miss Bennet?" she asked in scolding tones. "What on earth can you mean by disgracing Mr Darcy in such a fashion? Have you no idea of decorum, are you insensible to the honours bestowed on you by him, that fool of a nephew of mine who has singled you out above all other women to bear his name?"
"A name, ma'am, which you clearly have trouble in remembering," thought Elizabeth, feeling indignant not only at the rude manner in which she had been spoken to, but also at the fact that she had not been addressed by her new title: Mrs Darcy. In any case, what was Lady Catherine doing here? She was not expected for another week. And now the worst possible beginning that she could imagine for any new understanding between them had just taken place, in the mere twinkling of an eye. It was not her fault, but she had been rather outspoken, goaded by Lady Catherine's offensive and discourteous behaviour. Conscious that she might undo any reconciliation and the chance of true appeasement between this offensive woman and Mr Darcy, Elizabeth swiftly came to the conclusion that it might be best to take a superior position and try her utmost to smooth over the situation.
"Lady Catherine, I must admit that I was not expecting you until next week, but I do hope you are on your way to Pemberley. Mr Darcy is so looking forward to your visit."
"Is he indeed, Mrs Darcy?" came the reply, short and succinct.
"You must be very tired after your journey, Lady Catherine, and after the shock of the accident I think you need the comfort of a good fire and plenty of sweet tea. I will not keep you talking any longer. Let me assist you to your carriage."
"I thank you, Mrs Darcy, but I only take my own particular blend of tea, and I could not bear to have its delicate balance of flavours corrupted by cloying sugar. I am tired of travelling and unable to tell you if I shall put up at Pemberley at all, though if you insist, I might sit by a fire in the hall for a half hour. Harrogate has no charms left; I am entirely fatigued by the North Country and its odious people, and I am in no humour to waste any more of my time in the company of those who pretend to court me. I suppose you would like to take the rest of your journey in my carriage? Well, what are you waiting for? Only remove those hideous shawls before stepping up; I cannot be seen conversing with someone dressed as a washerwoman."
Through gritted teeth Elizabeth did as she was bid, taking care to make sure that the garrulous woman was settled before she took her seat. For one who professed to be tired Lady Catherine did not cease talking all the way to Pemberley, and Elizabeth had quite a headache by the time she was home. With so many impertinent questions to answer she had to be on her mettle. All her tiredness disappeared for the moment; she was determined not to say or do anything that might reflect badly against her husband and for that she had to be wide-awake.
What a commotion ensued on their arrival. Elizabeth could tell that poor Mrs Reynolds, though as accommodating as ever, was quite upset that she was not prepared for Lady Catherine's arrival. Maids and servants flew about them removing luggage and bandboxes. As they entered the hall Mrs Reynolds took Elizabeth to one side. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I think you should know that the master has been in a bit of a lather since you left this afternoon. He's had all the footmen out looking for you on the peaks. I did tell him that you like to go off on your own sometimes, but he wouldn't listen. Don't judge him too badly if he seems a little fractious, but he's been that worried, I can't tell you."
Elizabeth fumed inwardly. She had not been gone for long. Why must she tell the entire household if she wanted to go for a walk? Mr Darcy's reaction seemed entirely ridiculous if what Mrs Reynolds said was true.
Lady Catherine was refusing to leave the hall. She had set up by the fire insisting that she would be gone again in a quarter of an hour. "I am not stopping," she said. "I shall rest for a moment before heading home to Rosings. At my time of life, too many demands placed upon one's time are positively injurious to the health; though I must add that there is not another traveller in the whole of England as stalwart as myself, and those half my age would agree there is no one they know with more stamina. And that is precisely the problem with Lady Cathcart's circle in Harrogate; they could do with taking a leaf or two out of my book. It seems to me a very stupid sort of person who does not appreciate good advice when it is being offered to them. It's small wonder that she suffers so dreadfully with every ache and pain known to man when she refuses to try my frugal diet of vegetables and poached fish, highly recommended to me by the Earl of Southampton. If she followed my strict regime, all her digestion troubles would be entirely eliminated. And as for the perils of crow's foot she has entrenched upon her countenance, I truly despair. If she had taken the recommendation I offered her last winter of a daily application of Gowland's lotion, she would look half her age. Well, if people don't know what's good for them, I don't know what I am to do about it."
Mr Darcy could not come soon enough, thought Elizabeth, though as she took in his stern expression as she met him by the door, she could see that he was not best pleased. "I cannot begin to tell you of the upset you have caused this afternoon, Mrs Darcy," he began. "Why on earth did you not inform someone of where you were going?"
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Mr Darcy interrupted, saying, "I have no time to discuss this now, I must see to my aunt."
He swept past without another glance at Lizzy, rushing over to the cantankerous lady who was eyeing them both with great suspicion. Lady Catherine extended her bejewelled hand as Fitzwilliam approached, greeting her warmly and bending his head to place a kiss.
"I would like to say what a pleasure it is to be at Pemberley again, Fitzwilliam, but I have endured such a day that nothing could afford me any pleasure. The singular activities enjoyed by your wife have very nearly brought me to grief this afternoon. I cannot think why a donkey cart would be a preferable conveyance to that of a Darcy coach ornamented with the family crest, but I daresay it has something to do with her old habits."
Elizabeth wished the ground to open up. Mr Darcy was looking at her with an expression so severe she thought for an instant that she might burst into tears. The day had been so exacting on many counts; she felt so weary, and how she was going to explain everything she could not think. Her brain and her body would not work properly together.
"I called on Mrs Butler, and she offered her cart to take me home. We met Lady Catherine on the road..." Elizabeth faltered.
Mr Darcy looked away and toward his aunt. "I hope you are going to stay, Aunt. We have both looked forward to your visit with great pleasure and would be sorry if you were to leave so soon."
Lady Catherine pursed her lips. "I have no motive to disappoint my dear nephew. Perhaps I will stay. Despite my great shock at being almost overturned in my own carriage today, I find my appetite returning, and, as I always say, the de Bourghs and the
Darcys know more than any families in the kingdom how to keep a good table. I hope, Mrs Darcy, that you see to all the menus yourself?"
Mr Darcy spoke up. "Mrs Darcy does an excellent job in all domestic matters, I think you will find, Aunt Catherine."
"I enjoy my household duties very much, Lady Catherine," Lizzy spoke up as soon as he had finished. "The discovery of the late Mrs Darcy's receipt books has been a very useful source for inspiration in the kitchen. Written in such a beautiful hand and with such tried and tested methods, I have been able to draw on her expertise with the help of Mrs Reynolds."
"My sister did have a superior hand and a talent for the culinary arts. It is a trait with which I too am most fortunate to be so blessed. When you next come to Rosings Park, Mrs Darcy, you may have my receipt for herb dumplings. You will find no better authority nor softer dumplings than mine, let me assure you."
Elizabeth could hardly suppress a smile. To flatter Lady Catherine must surely be quite the best way to win her over. "I am certain I would find such advice invaluable, Lady Catherine. I know Mr Darcy prefers soft dumplings to any other kind."
Mr Darcy glanced over at his wife, a flicker of a smile and a quizzical expression on his countenance, but his wife returned his perusal just as steadily and with as solemn an expression as she could muster. How dare he be cross with her, she thought; she would not give in to his smiles so easily.
"Please allow me to show you to your room, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth addressed her. "Mrs Reynolds will lead the way. We thought you'd like to have your sister's room. There is such a charming portrait of you both as young girls on the wall, set between the windows. She was so very beautiful, and you are so alike in looks. You must miss her very much, and an elder sister is always of such comfort."
"Mrs Darcy was my younger sister by five years, but we were often taken for twins in our youth. You are not the first to remark on the similarity of our features. Noble blood and aristocratic noses are those features which mark out the truly genteel. One can only pray that they will continue to grace the Darcy lineage." They had mounted the stairs and were almost at the top. Mrs Reynolds, several steps in front, disappeared quickly into the room to make sure everything was as perfect as it could be. As they reached the door Lady Catherine turned. "Have you told your husband yet, Mrs Darcy?"
"Forgive me, I'm not certain to what you refer, Lady Catherine," answered Elizabeth, blushing furiously, unsure as to her meaning and feeling quite conscious of all that had passed during the afternoon.
"Come now, Mrs Darcy, do not insult me. I knew as soon as I saw you. A little ginger in your tea will cure the worst of the symptoms. Ask your friend Mrs Collins; she will tell you how she was still able to see to the pigs after my intervention. I don't doubt you will produce a healthy offspring. Of course, those persons not so highly born are often generally better suited for breeding, and this may be where you have the advantage over a refined, aristocratic gel of a delicate frame and constitution. For the purposes of crude procreation, I daresay my nephew has chosen wisely in plumping for a girl of well-built proportions; I pray the excesses of childbirth are not injurious to your health. Many a young woman has been snuffed out in her prime, if not after the first, then after half a dozen or more confinements." Lady Catherine looked Elizabeth up and down as if she were examining a prize cow. "Now, I shall leave you. I suppose dinner is at six, as it always has been at Pemberley. I am feeling ravenous--a hearty dinner tonight, I think. The Earl of Southampton recommends frugal diets only in the summer months."
Lady Catherine turned and entered her bedchamber without a backward glance. Elizabeth stood for a moment on the threshold, desirous of following her and telling her exactly what she thought, but she knew that to do so would be a fruitless exercise. Besides, there was someone else who needed a talking to, and she must find him straight away.
Elizabeth went in search of Mr Darcy as soon as she could. It was imperative that she speak to him before Lady Catherine divulged her suppositions whether outright or by none too subtle hints. He was getting ready for dinner and looked so striking in his black coat that she almost felt shy as she entered his dressing room. How to begin on such a subject she could not think. Before she had a chance to speak, however, Mr Darcy gestured to her to sit down. She sat upon a chair before the window and looked up to see him scrutinising her most severely.
He spoke in measured tones. "I am very disappointed, Elizabeth. What on earth were you thinking? I have had every man looking for you over the entire estate; nobody knew where you were. Did you not consider for a moment how worried I might be? To go off without informing me or anyone else of your whereabouts is utterly irresponsible. Not only have you had me almost out of my mind with anxiety, but then I also find that you are dressing like a peasant to go off donkey riding in the countryside. To wholly disregard your position here at Pemberley and that of myself shows such little consideration that I find myself unable to credit. You have submitted yourself to the derision and ridicule of our neighbours. What they must think of me for allowing you to conduct yourself thus is anyone's guess. And then to be seen in such a state by Lady Catherine herself is quite unforgivable. Are you trying to make a fool of me? Please explain your actions, Elizabeth, for at this moment, I do not comprehend you."
"No, sir, you do not comprehend me, that is very certain. I was not aware when we married that I was from that day restricted, unable to move, speak, or voice an opinion without your approbation or permission, but it is becoming increasingly clear that I am no longer able to enjoy a free will of my own. I am sorry if you think my conduct has been unbecoming or if I gave you cause to worry, but it was not done with any intention of shaming you or belittling your noble standing in the community. As for your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, whose unannounced arrival has thrown everyone into disarray, I hope you will recall that if it were not for myself, the reconciliation you hope to accomplish would never have been a remote possibility."
Elizabeth was becoming increasingly angry and indignant. And the reason for her sole purpose in seeking him out was no longer a subject she felt she wished to reveal, a confidence she could not discuss with him now. She waited for him to answer, and when none was forthcoming Elizabeth decided to leave. His countenance was suffused with colour and the obvious suppression of yet more bitter proclamations seemed to emanate from every pore.
"I will see you at dinner, Mr Darcy. And if you have no further instruction as to how I must conduct myself at the dinner table under the eagle eyes of your aunt and those of your good self, I will take my leave."
∗ ∗ ∗
For all her outspoken words Elizabeth showed a united front with her husband at the dinner table, though it was difficult to be the light, bright, and sparkling conversationalist that Mrs Darcy had become renowned for amongst her neighbours. Thankfully, Lady Catherine made no further reference to their earlier conversation and Elizabeth resolved to keep the matter to herself for the time being. Lady Catherine had not had her questions confirmed and Lizzy decided that if she was so impertinent to hint at such a thing again that she would deny all possibility. Mr Darcy's aunt held court, much as she had done at Rosings when Elizabeth had been invited there with Charlotte Collins the previous summer. Poor Georgiana was bombarded with questions and with so many recommendations as to the correct conduct of an engaged young woman that Elizabeth wished she could have intervened more than she did. At length the evening was broken up. Mrs Darcy retired to her bedchamber feeling as weary as she ever had. The fact that her husband did not instantly follow her had only a momentary regret; the instant her head touched the pillow she fell fast asleep.
When she awoke, however, he was not there. Whether he had risen early or whether he had not slept in their bed she could not decide at first, but the neatness and lack of depression upon his pillow finally persuaded her that he had not in fact slept there during the night. Elizabeth sighed. He was the most stubborn man she had ever known, she decided. Fitzwilliam was beha
ving like a child who could not get his own way. "I am not going to report to him for everything I do or say," she said to herself, "and if I give in to him now I shall never be my own person again." Yet despite her brave thoughts and her self-assurance, she was very upset that he was not lying there beside her. In their short married life together they had never before spent a night apart. Disagreements were unpalatable; she had never felt at such variance with any other person in her life; and to dispute in such a manner with the man she loved most in the world was so dreadful and alarming. Quite what she was to do about it, she did not know.
A knock on the door had her alert and sitting up in bed in expectation. Her disappointment she felt deeply when her maid entered, though the sight of a cup of tea with the post was most cheering.
There was a letter from Jane which she eagerly read first, a letter from her sister Lydia in Newcastle asking for money, and the third, scribed in a hand she did not recognise, not only gave her cause for great upset but was also anonymously written.
Dear Mrs Darcy,
Your husband's heart belongs to someone else. If you need proof ask Mrs Tissington of Birchlow about Master George's true parentage. If not for certain conditions imposed upon his real mother and father, he would be the next rightful heir to the Pemberley fortunes.
A well-wisher.
