by Zoë Burton
The pair continued through the park, speaking mostly to themselves but sometimes stopping to include their chaperone, who tended to hang back and let them have time alone.
~~~***~~~
At her estate of Rosings in Kent, Lady Catherine de Bourgh sat in the most ornate chair in her elaborately decorated sitting room reading a letter from her brother. “What? What is he saying?” She asked herself. Reaching the bottom of the letter, she turned it over to make sure there was no more on the back, then turned it over again and began to read it once more. As she read, she began to exclaim her thoughts aloud.
“Engaged! Darcy? He wrote the same to me, but I did not believe him. How is it possible?” She read further. “No arrangement with Anne? How can he say that? It was the dearest wish of our sister! And just who is this Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Of Hertfordshire? Bennet, Bennet…where have I heard that name?”
Reading the missive a third time did nothing to soothe Lady Catherine’s nerves, and she was in an advanced state of outrage when her rector, Mr. Collins, was announced.
“You,” she cried upon seeing him timorously enter the room. “You are the connection! Do you not have a cousin from Hertfordshire named Bennet? Did you not recently visit them?”
Mr. Collins was made nervous by the vehemence of his patroness’ voice. He bowed in greeting before answering. “Yes, madam, I do, and I did.”
“And were you not under orders to find a wife from amongst the man’s daughters?”
“I was. However, Mrs. Bennet would not let me speak to the four that were in residence, insisting that I choose one who was from home on a visit to a relation of some sort in town.”
“Mrs. Bennet? What of Mr. Bennet? What had he to say of the matter?”
The clergyman stammered. “Well, he…he…he…I did not actually speak to Cousin Bennet about it.”
“Well, perhaps you should have! Did Mrs. Bennet sign marriage articles with you?” Lady Catherine asked acidly.
“No,” he drew the word out as he searched for a reason for his patroness’ line of questioning. “She assured me, however, that Miss Elizabeth would gladly accept my suit once she returned home and met me. She insisted that I not speak to my cousin, now that I think about it.” Collins’ relief was immense to have a reason for coming back to Kent without an engagement. That relief was short-lived.
“I can assure you that she was wrong, Mr. Collins, for I have just received a letter from Lord Matlock confirming that she is engaged to my nephew, Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy, who was promised to my daughter when they were babes! What have you to say to that?”
“I am in shock, your ladyship! I had no idea such a thing was happening behind my back!”
“Of course not!” Lady Catherine rolled her eyes. “She was not in the house with you, she was in London. However, the fact remains that, according to my brother, the woman your cousin’s wife urged you to choose is now engaged to my nephew. How Matlock could countenance such a thing is beyond me. I am going to London to confront them myself,” she declared. “This cannot stand!” Ringing for her butler, she ordered him to send notice to the stables. “Order my barouche box at once; I am going to town!”
Mr. Collins, in his usual manner of mixed humility, subservience, and obsequiousness, bowed repeatedly in homage to his patroness, asking, “How may I be of service to you? Perhaps I might attend you as you travel and speak to my cousin myself? Surely she would not think to disobey you when your natural authority and greatness are backed with the power of my position as a clergyman.”
Lady Catherine took a few minutes to contemplate his words. For all his ridiculousness, he could possibly be of service to her. However, as he had never met this particular cousin before, Miss Elizabeth Bennet might not be as open to his words as he believed she would be. “No,” Lady Catherine declared, “you shall remain here. I believe this is something I must do alone. You are dismissed.”
While disappointed that he was not to meet his cousin Elizabeth at this time, he willingly acquiesced, bowing and scraping his way backwards to the door and out.
Hours later, Lady Catherine was being admitted to her brother’s townhouse. Lord Matlock, from the far back corner of his library and with the door firmly closed, could hear her strident tones demanding to see him. Approaching the door to listen to her demands, he rolled his eyes to hear her angrily deride his butler for failing to give her the location of his master. He could not fault her for her temper—all Fitzwilliams had one, after all—but his younger sister had never learned to control hers, and her treatment of those she considered inferior was a perfect example of this lack of control. Deciding to put his oldest and most faithful servant out of his misery, Matlock opened the library door and stepped out.
“Catherine! Enough! The entire household can hear you. If Mother were alive, she would take you to task for such ill-bred behavior.”
Lady Catherine had turned at his first words, his tone of voice giving her notice that this was not a day he would tolerate brashness.
She was well aware, of course, that her manner was not as refined as it should be. She had struggled all her life to present herself as demure and soft-spoken and had failed miserably. In all ways, she was a genteel lady but this one. She simply could not keep her opinions and feelings to herself; they must be expressed. Once married and again after the death of her husband, she had found that her outspokenness had been in her favor. A household staff who lived in fear of the sharp side of her tongue was one who obeyed without question; the same was true of fellow landowners and village tradesmen. She knew that, rather than offend a lady, they would give in to her demands. As a result, she stopped trying to rein herself in and instead freely gave out her thoughts and criticisms.
Her brother, upon taking over the earldom after the passing of their father, had made it clear to Lady Catherine that he was the head of the Fitzwilliam family, not she. While there were times that he would let her have her way, more often than not, he took a firm hand with her. Today was not a day she was going to get away with making demands, but she was not going to quit without a fight.
Choosing to ignore Lord Matlock’s comment about their mother, Lady Catherine began her charge. Pulling his letter out of her reticule and waving it around, she spoke. “I demand to know the meaning of the contents of this letter! You know, I have spoken of it often enough, I am sure, that our sister-“
“Get in here, Sister, and turn off that incessant noise that emanates from your mouth. The entire household does not need to hear your complaints.” Matlock’s voice clearly indicated his irritation. He held up his hand as she tried to speak once more. “I said in here, and do it now. I am not of a mind to listen to you as it is; if you wish an audience with me, you will do as I say.”
Compressing her lips into a tight, angry line, Lady Catherine complied. Taking four steps into the room, she turned and protested his treatment of her. “Is this how you treat me, your only living sister? You mock and berate me in front of the servants? It is not to be borne!”
Matlock stepped up to her, stopping with his nose a hair’s breadth from hers. “How is what I said and did any different than how you treated me? You disobeyed a direct order from the head of your family and a peer of higher standing. It was disrespectful. You know better. You have been told numerous times, for as long as I can remember, to modify your manners. I am not under your thumb or living in your village, Catherine. You will not speak to me as though I were dirt under your feet. Do I make myself clear?”
By the end of his speech, Lady Catherine had begun to recognize her error in forcing her way into her brother’s home. It was clear to her that a softer approach would have gotten her further. She would have to fight all the harder for him to even hear her out, now. Taking a deep breath, she began speaking, doing her best to temper her tone.
An hour later, she left Matlock House unsatisfied, to say the least. Her efforts to conform to his expectations for her speech did not last long. His stubborn refusal to acc
ept her claims of a prior engagement between Darcy and her daughter, Anne, had infuriated her and as her temper frayed so did her speech. No amount of berating him for putting his duties to Parliament ahead of his family would sway him, either. As always when faced with a hopeless case, Lady Catherine became more strident. She exited her brother’s home, forming a new plan. She would confront her nephew directly.
Chapter 8
After leaving her brother’s home, Lady Catherine directed her coachman to take her to Darcy House. As the equipage drove slowly past the entrance to Hyde Park, she spotted her nephew walking with a young lady on his arm. The couple was followed by an older lady and two manservants. Banging on the ceiling with her walking stick, she told the groom who opened the carriage door to follow the group and stop in front of whatever house they entered. Ten minutes later, she was knocking on the door of Winthrop House.
Darcy, Elizabeth, and Lady Winthrop were just sitting down in the drawing room when Mr. Lowe, the Winthrop House butler, entered the room. Bowing to his mistress, he intoned, “A Lady Catherine de Bourgh is here, madam, and is asking to speak with Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh.” Lady Winthrop turned to Darcy. “This is unexpected.”
“It is indeed. My uncle assured me that he would deal with my aunt.”
“My husband had assured me that he would, Darcy. Why do we not invite her in and see what she wants?”
“Yes, I believe we should. She is quite capable of making a scene if it suits her purposes.” Turning to Mr. Lowe, he spoke. “Please bring my aunt to this room. Should she protest that she wishes to speak to me privately, assure her that I have declared there is nothing she has to say that everyone cannot hear.”
“Very well, sir.” Lowe bowed again and exited the room. Within moments, the strident tones of Lady Catherine’s wrath could be heard for just a moment before silence fell. The group rose as the door opened and Lowe announced their visitor. More than one of the room’s occupants was amused at the look on their visitor’s face at being forced to wait to enter the room.
Mr. Lowe, who had held his position for two decades, was well-versed in dealing with pugnacious peers. He was a tallish, solidly built man with a penchant for boxing in his off hours. In his youth, he had often been enlisted to protect members of the Winthrop family and as butler had perfected a method of standing in the way of visitors who tried to push past him, as Lady Catherine was currently doing. It was not obvious that he was blocking their entrance, but his body was positioned in such a way that they could not pass him, nor were they able to push him out of the way, given his bulk and physical strength. It made for an amusing sight, as the Winthrops could attest.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Finally allowed entrance, Lady Catherine’s gaze swept the room as the mistress of the home greeted her.
“Welcome to Winthrop House, Lady de Bourgh. Please, do be seated.”
“This is a very small drawing room,” Lady Catherine pronounced, ignoring the invitation. “Such rooms generally are in houses in town. I should be very uncomfortable here.”
“Indeed,” responded Lady Winthrop in a tight voice. She adored this townhouse and had worked diligently over the years to make it both elegant and welcoming. She did not appreciate a total stranger dismissing her labor of love in such an out of hand fashion.
Darcy interceded, seeing that his cantankerous aunt had offended her hostess. “Aunt, what brings you here today?” He tried to be pleasant despite the anger her overbearing, unexpected, and unwelcome visit brought.
Finally focusing on her reason for being in the house, Lady Catherine spoke. “Come, Darcy, I would speak to you privately,” she ordered, as though he were a recalcitrant child.
“I will not,” he declared in his deep, quiet voice. “As I told Lowe to relay to you, there is nothing you have to say that everyone in this room cannot hear.”
“There is family business to discuss. No one here is family, nor will they be.” Her anger, already riled, was increasing with what she saw as Darcy’s insolence.
“Again I say, anything you wish to say to me can be said right here. You have not even observed the niceties, Aunt, and asked to be introduced to anyone. I am ashamed to admit you are a member of my family.”
“I do not need to know who these people are. They are below me, and you. You wish me to declare our personal business to strangers? I shall, then! You are, as you know, engaged to my daughter. What business have you attaching yourself to this fortune hunting piece of muslin I see here?”
Elizabeth gasped, shocked that a lady, any lady, would say such things about another with whom she was unacquainted. “What did you call me?”
Lady Catherine’s sharp gaze moved from Darcy to Elizabeth. “You are Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“I am.” Elizabeth stood, straight and proud. Her courage had always risen with every attempt to intimidate her, and at this moment it was high indeed. “Who, pray tell, are you?”
“You know who I am. You stood right there as my daughter’s betrothed called me Aunt. If you knew what was best for you, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you were raised; you would cut your ties with my nephew Darcy and return to Longbourn and marry the man you are intended for.”
“And how would you know for whom I am intended?”
“My vicar is your intended. He told me so himself. You certainly do not deserve better, that is clear. Perhaps he will be able to teach you how to behave towards your betters.”
“He will not, for I am not, nor have I ever, been engaged to him. I have not even met the man. Mr. Darcy has asked for my hand, and I have accepted him. I will not give him up, especially not for a person who is so wholly unconnected to me as you are.”
Elizabeth’s words brought a barrage of insulting words from Lady Catherine, who was greatly angered at the impertinence of her adversary. She was quickly stopped by her nephew, however.
“Enough, Aunt! Who are you to enter a stranger’s home and insult not only her house but her goddaughter? Miss Bennet has accepted my offer of marriage, we are to wed in a matter of weeks, and you have no say in it. You will keep your opinions of the matter to yourself. I told you years ago that I would not marry Anne. Did you think I was not serious?”
“Of course you were not serious! She was formed for you! And, it was your mother’s greatest wish. Think of it, Darcy! You would have Rosings and Pemberley both!”
“You sound very much like all the other ladies of my acquaintance who have daughters to marry off. I never before realized how absolutely mercenary you are. Did you not stop to see my uncle before hunting me down here? Again I say, I will not marry Anne! Now, leave this place; I am done with you.”
Darcy turned away, reaching for Elizabeth’s hand and raising his aunt’s ire even further. In a fit of rage, she swung her walking stick at her daughter’s rival, striking her in the shoulder and knocking her off her feet. As she fell, Elizabeth’s head hit the wooden arm of the chair behind her, knocking her unconscious.
Darcy was momentarily frozen. One minute his betrothed was giving him her hand and the next she was crying out and falling away.
“Elizabeth!”
He dove to her side and was rewarded with a blow to his own arm. Now realizing what had caused Elizabeth’s fall, he sprung back up, turning in the process and stopping a third blow with his hand and wrenching the walking stick away from his aunt.
“What are you doing? Are you insane? You have gone too far, Lady Catherine!”
By this time, the door had opened again, and Lord Winthrop himself entered the room, shocked to see his goddaughter and wife on the floor and Elizabeth’s suitor breaking a stick over his leg.
“What is the meaning of this,” he roared. Turning to Lady Catherine, he continued. “Who are you and why have you brought chaos to my house? Darcy, what is going on here?”
Lady Catherine, in her rage, had flown at her nephew and ignored the new person in the room. Lord Winthrop wanted answers
and could readily see that the only way to get them was to eliminate the primary source of contention in the room, and that was the female he did not know who was even now launching herself at Darcy. Striding to her with quick steps, he grasped her about the waist and pulled her away, handing her off to Mr. Lowe with instructions to lock her up somewhere for the time being.
Lowe was more than happy to oblige his employer and made quick work of his task, ignoring her demanding screams and puny fists, and installing her in a sparsely decorated guest room.
In the drawing room, Elizabeth was still on the floor, Lady Winthrop on one side of her and Darcy on the other. She was beginning to regain consciousness, for which all were thankful. Lord Winthrop called for someone to bring cold water and a cloth and to send for the physician before joining the group on the floor.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy spoke her name while chafing her hand. The anxiety in his voice surprised the Winthrops enough that they did not even realize he had used her Christian name. “Can you hear me?”
“Darcy, let us get her off the floor.” Lady Winthrop indicated a chaise a few steps away. “Pick her up and put her over there.”
Carefully, Darcy did as instructed and lifted Elizabeth into his arms, careful not to put undue pressure on her shoulder, where he knew his aunt’s walking stick had made contact. He was certain there would be a bruise there, and he did not wish to aggravate it. Taking the few steps needed as quickly as he dared, he gently laid her down. Her head rolled toward him as he removed his arm from under her shoulders and he was further alarmed at the sight of blood flowing from a wound on her head.
Lady Winthrop had settled herself on the other side of the chaise and taken the water and cloth from the maid. Dipping the cloth into the bowl and then wringing the excess water from it, she dabbed at Elizabeth’s head wound, removing the blood as well as she could. She glanced at Darcy, who was white and wide-eyed with fear. “She will be well, I promise you. I saw worse when my boys were young. She did not hit her head very hard.”
