by Meg Osborne
“Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, buying himself time to formulate a reply.
“Is there more than one?” Lady Catherine asked, shortly.
“There are five in total,” Richard replied, nonchalantly. He could not resist glancing at his aunt out of the corner of his eye to see the shock register on her face, although it only took her a moment to wrestle her features back into a semblance of disinterest.
“Indeed? Five daughters...” She clucked her tongue. “And none of them married?”
“None married at present,” Richard leaned back in his seat, affecting relaxation. “Of course, that will change before long.”
“Oh?”
“I shall marry Mary,” Ricardo explained, and Lady Catherine's anxiety receded fractionally.
“Of course. Yet, she is not the eldest...” Lady Catherine frowned. “I wonder at their parents’ plans, to permit the younger to wed before the elder.”
“I fancy Jane will marry soon, too. Charles Bingley seems rather taken with her. And Elizabeth...”
“Yes, Elizabeth,” Lady Catherine seized on the name. “I was led to believe that a match had been agreed between her and my curate, yet now that I see the lady for myself...” His aunt’s lips puckered in distaste. “I cannot speak knowledgeably, of course, for we met but briefly, but...” she paused. “Tell me, Richard, do you think she would make a good curate’s wife?”
That would depend rather a great deal on the curate, I imagine, Richard thought.
“She is certainly amiable,” he offered.
“Amiable.” Lady Catherine looked as if she did not approve of the word. “I am grateful I have but one daughter to concern myself with.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Although I shall not rest easy until she is happily married.”
Richard could sense his aunt’s wish to discuss her plans to match Anne with Darcy, and decided to take his leave before she could speak further. He would not be involved in orchestrating a marriage between his cousins, and it was not his place to tell his aunt of Darcy’s true feelings, not when his friend had yet to fully admit them to himself.
“You are fortunate, indeed, aunt,” he said, standing. “Now, if you will excuse me, I wished to try and catch Darcy before he retreats to ready himself for dinner. I am eager to arrange going out for a ride tomorrow, and know he might be pressed to join me, if the weather holds.”
He bid his aunt farewell, and hurried for the relative safety of the corridor before she had chance to respond.
Chapter Five
Mary had readied herself for dinner early, yet it had taken her what time remained to check her reflection in the mirror, make an adjustment, check again, adjust again, and pronounce herself done, so that she scarcely had a moment to gather her thoughts before Elizabeth knocked on her chamber door.
“Mary!” Elizabeth beamed at her, pushing the door open. “How pretty you look! Let’s go down together. I don’t know about you, but I am a little nervous to approach Lady Catherine again alone!”
Mary said nothing, but smiled, grateful that her sister would be by her side. As the two girls descended the stairs, Lizzy pointed out a few of the paintings that lined the walls, explaining who they depicted and what connection they had to Lady Catherine.
“Did you spend your whole afternoon in the library?” Mary marvelled. “Surely you lost hours to all this research!” And to what end? she wondered.
“Not even close!” Elizabeth laughed. “In fact, my plan to locate the library was entirely scuppered by locating one Mr Darcy instead.”
“Oh?” Mary watched her sister carefully, for any trace of the affection that Jane had already noticed, but Lizzy was her very own self, if a little pink-cheeked, which Mary put down to the heat of the fires that blazed in every available fireplace.
“I do not doubt he, too, was eager for some occupation, for he volunteered to show me Rosings quite without my meaning him to.” She smiled. “I had not imagined him so knowledgeable.”
“It is his own family, Lizzy,” Mary chided, good-naturedly. “I should think him rather stupid not to know all about them.”
“Oh, indeed,” Elizabeth agreed. “But on other things, too. I found him to be very intelligent. We conversed quite a while, Mary, so long that I had to hurry to be ready in time!”
Mary said nothing, but smiled, content that in this instance, she was savvier than her sister in affairs of the heart. Now if only she could devise a way to convince Elizabeth of the feelings that were only too plan in that moment to her!
The door to the sitting room stood open, and Colonel Fitzwilliam strode forward to greet them.
“Good evening, ladies!” he said, with a beaming smile. “I trust you are well-rested?”
He glanced at Elizabeth out of politeness, but Mary was touched to see how swiftly and completely his attention switched to her.
“Very well, thank you,” she said, suddenly shy. “That is, I am. Elizabeth took to exploring.” She elbowed her sister.
“Oh? And what did you discover?”
“That your cousin is at least half as knowledgeable as you are, at least in matters of family history,” Elizabeth said, smoothly disentangling her arm from Mary’s and dancing ahead of her into the parlour.
Richard’s eyebrows lifted, and he looked with interest at Mary.
“Did I miss something?”
“I fancy my sister and your cousin successfully spent an afternoon together without arguing,” Mary said, stifling a laugh.
“Wonders never cease!” Richard offered her his arm, and Mary slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Now, we must both be brave, for my aunt is already in fine form.”
“She is?” Mary’s heart sank.
“Fortunately neither you nor I are the focus of her attention at present.” Richard winked, hard. “And once we are, I have a scheme in mind to distract her. Recall the music we purchased for Anne? I was hoping you might be persuaded to play it for us after our meal, so as to introduce her to it, and to introduce everyone else to your skill as a pianist.”
Mary’s face grew hot.
“Oh, I couldn’t!”
“You can, and you must,” Richard said, with a firm smile. “Trust me, Mary, once Aunt Catherine hears you play, all other thoughts will be swept aside, and we might all be granted some peace.” He winced, but before Mary could question him on the reason for his concern, they drew close enough to the sitting room that she could distinguish from the voices inside what must be the source of his anxiety.
“And cousin Mary!” Mr Collins cried, hurrying forward as they crossed the threshold. “Here you are in Kent, as well! What providence!”
“Providence?” Richard asked, with a hint of an edge to his voice. “Is it so very providential that I should seek to introduce the young lady I intend to marry to my wider family?”
“Oh!” Mr Collins laughed. “Oh, I suppose not. Yes, indeed. Marriage. Well!”
Before he could say any more to either of them, Richard steered past him, seating Mary next to her sister and across from another young lady with a pale complexion rendered still paler by her light blond hair.
“Mary,” Richard said softly. “This is my cousin Anne de Bourgh. I was so eager that you might know one another, for I fancy you are not dissimilar.”
“My cousin tells me you are musical,” Anne said, leaning forward with a warm, welcoming smile that instantly put Mary at ease. “And are you also fond of the piano, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I am fond of it, indeed,” Lizzy said. “But alas, all talent in our family is Mary’s.” She squeezed Mary warmly on the arm. “As I am sure you will hear later, for you are going to play for us, are not you?”
“Apparently,” Mary said, with a tentative smile at Anne. “Although I do not like to take your seat.”
“Nonsense!” Anne laughed. “It will do me good to listen, instead of play. And I trust you will have pieces I do not know, and vice versa. I must show you my music room later...” she glanced towa
rds her mother, who was at that moment engaged in a whispered conversation with Mr Darcy. “Perhaps tomorrow. Miss Elizabeth, you must come too, for even if you do not play yourself you might help us to decide which pieces are best.” Her eyes twinkled with fun. “And if you comport yourself particularly well, we may even engage you to turn our pages!”
All three ladies laughed, which drew the attention of the far corner.
“Dear me, I did not realise it was the fashion for young ladies to be so amusing at present,” Lady Catherine observed, with a sniff.” Anne, come and sit closer to me. You have hardly even greeted your dear cousin Fitzwilliam properly, and it has been so long since we have seen him.”
With a resigned sigh, Anne stood and obediently joined her mother. Sensing a movement at the corner of her eye, Mary glanced up as Mr Collins made a move towards their corner, but before he could reach it, Richard claimed it for his own.
“Now, ladies, I must have your opinion on a matter of utmost importance.” He affected a position of confidence, leaning forward, so that only Elizabeth and Mary could hear him. “It concerns buttonholes...”
“FITZWILLIAM, YOU WILL accompany me to dinner.”
Lady Catherine’s command - for it was a command, not a request, that Darcy might consider refusing - was given in such clear, formal tones that it could not fail to be heard by everybody present.
“Certainly, Aunt,” he said, standing. “And what of the other ladies?”
“You might see Anne in, as well,” she allowed. “Richard will escort Miss Mary, of course, and Mr Collins can, I am quite sure, manage to escort Miss Elizabeth to dinner.”
Darcy's heart sank, first at the thought of Elizabeth joining the meal on Mr Colin’s arm: indeed, on any man’s arm that was not his, then turned over when he thought how trying she would find the evening. He shared a glance with his cousin that communicated their feelings without the need of discussion: we must strive to offer Elizabeth conversation so that she is not abandoned entirely to the mercy of Mr Collins. Surely the man would not be foolish enough to embarrass Elizabeth further or attempt to propose again, but Darcy did not think him well practised in etiquette. Surely nothing was beyond possibility for such a man.
Once seated, Darcy recognised the difficulty of the task, for he found himself caught between Lady Catherine and his cousin, and at as great a distance from Elizabeth as could be managed.
“Anne, tell Fitzwilliam what you were speaking to me of this morning at breakfast,” Lady Catherine began, as the meal was served and everyone fell to dining.
“This morning?” Anne was startled by the request, that much was plain even to Darcy. “I hardly think William has any interest in my consideration of the weather and its impact on my plans to call upon my friend.” She smiled wearily at Darcy, who resisted the urge to laugh. “As you can see, my considerations were unnecessary, and the visit managed.”
“I merely meant that your cousin would surely be touched to hear of your concern for your friend. And, of course, that your friend is none other than the young Lady Dalrymple. How well acquainted you have become since her arrival in Kent. We must invite them to dine while you are here, Fitzwilliam. I am sure you would be pleased to make the acquaintance of such a fine, upstanding couple.”
“If you wish it, Aunt.” Darcy was hardly paying any heed to Lady Catherine’s words. His attention had been thoroughly secured by the conversation taking place at the other end of the table, where Mr Collins’ whispers towards Elizabeth were ably intercepted by Colonel Fitzwilliam, who proceeded to quiz the man on all matters regarding his church and the plans they were already making for the wedding. Mary, too, sought to engage her sister in conversation, so that he let out a breath he had not quite realised he was holding.
“I did not realise you found our conversation so stifling, Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine said, in an irritable enough tone that it forced Darcy to attention.
“Not at all!” he said, turning back to her. “Forgive me. I find I am rather fatigued from travelling. Anne, you are looking well. I do hope you were not unduly disturbed by Miss Bennet and I this afternoon?”
“Disturbed? By Miss Bennet?” Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “And what, pray, was the reason for this?”
“Oh, it was nothing, Mama,” Anne said, with a laugh that sounded somewhat artificial even to Darcy’s unpractised ears. “They were taking a tour of Rosings, and happened upon me in the sitting room.”
“I rather fear we interrupted your correspondence,” Darcy said, apologetically. He noticed, too late, the flash of white that crossed Anne's features, the tiniest shake of the head she deployed in his direction. “Then again,” he continued, before Lady Catherine could take hold of the topic. “I might just as easily have been mistaken. I believe it was a book you were engaged in, not writing. I hope we did not spoil your enjoyment too much.”
“No.” Anne smiled gratefully at him. “Not at all. I was much better served by retiring for an hour to rest.”
“Yes, you must rest, Anne,” Lady Catherine said. “My poor daughter is so excited to have her cousins with her once more that she is prone to overlook her own needs.”
Darcy did not respond to this. He had long fancied that Anne’s ill-health, whilst serious, might be far more easily recovered from without Lady Catherine’s overbearing efforts to control her.
“Miss Elizabeth is very fond of walking, cousin,” he observed, after a few moments. “I am sure she would be very grateful if you would accompany her in touring the grounds. Perhaps tomorrow, should the weather hold?”
“A walk?” Lady Catherine asked, suspiciously. “Why, it is far too cold -”
“I would be delighted,” Anne broke in. “You needn’t worry, Mama, we shall ensure we are well protected against the wind. There is a lovely folly at the edge of the grounds -”
“I know it well!” Darcy said. “Recall, it was where Richard and I built our fort, and ably saw off the Martin children.”
“They are all married now,” Anne said, recalling the tenant children that they had played with as children. “Or almost all. George is not, but he -”
“He ran off to the war, foolish boy,” Lady Catherine volunteered, stabbing at her meat as if it were the guilty party himself and not a particularly elegantly roast duck.
“He abandoned his family responsibilities to do so! Of course, he was injured, and came home with no fortune, no prospects, and is now a burden to the family he once thought himself too good for.”
“That is not kind, Mama,” Anne protested. “Captain Martin was very brave, and you recall, William, he wanted to go to sea even when we were children.”
“That’s true.” Darcy nodded. “I am pleased he managed it, though sorry to hear of his misfortune.” He glanced towards Colonel Fitzwilliam, wondering how different his life might look now, had he suffered a worse injury in the war. As it was, Darcy heard him wheezing and coughing in the early hours of the morning and deduced that despite his good spirits, his health was still not yet entirely recovered. “I wonder if we might visit Captain Martin, while we are here?”
“You visit him?” Lady Catherine gasped. “And what, pray, would you wish to do that for? What could you possibly have in common with a sailor?”
“We were once friends, Aunt. And his family have been tenants of Rosings for many years. It would not be at all improper to call on his house. I am sure the ladies would like to take a basket, once they hear of his misfortunate.”
“Whose misfortune?” Richard asked, noting these last words.
Darcy prompted Anne, and she haltingly told the tale she had so recently recounted to Darcy.
“Poor fellow!” Richard said. “Let us call on him soon. I am sure he will be cheered to see us.” His eyes met Mary’s. “You do not mind?”
She shook her head, fervently, and Darcy felt his esteem for Richard’s bride rise as she spoke.
“No, indeed! We must see if they need anything. Lizzy, do you think his sisters mig
ht care for some new hair-ribbons or some nations we might pool from our own belongings?”
“There is a book that, I have it on good authority, might be interesting enough to gentlemen as it is to ladies,” Elizabeth volunteered, meeting Darcy’s glance with a tentative smile. “Perhaps your friend would like to read it? I know that confinement can be trying for a man, particularly for one so previously accustomed to exercise.”
“You are very kind, Miss Elizabeth.”
They shared a single moment of silence where it seemed to Darcy as if a great swathe of words they could never manage to say to one another was communicated. The moment was brought to an abrupt end by Lady Catherine’s loud, pointed cough.
“I would have invited you sooner, Fitzwilliam, had I the notion that you intended on bringing charity to all the poor families that live in the vicinity of Rosings. Mr Collins,” she began, determined to change the subject swiftly and completely. “How do you fare at Hunsford? I trust not much has changed since your return?”
The conversation moved on, and when Darcy looked again at Elizabeth, her attention was on her plate, as she ably avoided Mr Collins’ attempts to draw her into his conversation with Lady Catherine.
Chapter Six
The meal seemed interminably long to Elizabeth, trapped as she was next to Mr Collins. With a smile or a look she managed to communicate her thanks, both to Mary and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been saviours to her, interceding on her behalf when they fancied she had been too long occupied by her dinner companion in conversation and in need of respite. Even so, Lizzy did not wish to prevent them in speaking to one another, and so with a long, fortifying breath, she addressed Mr Collins directly.
“Tell me about Hunsford, Mr Collins. Is it a pleasant parish?”
His eyes lit up at being thus addressed, and he had said but two words before Elizabeth recognised her mistake. She had presumed to enquire about Hunsford was as safe a topic of conversation as she could invent at such short notice, but alas, he appeared to perceive her interest as inherently personal, and began phrasing his answer so as to portray the small parsonage, church and surrounding area in a most becoming manner to one who might be considering making a life there, with him.
