“My bishop is extremely pleased, but I do hope Lady Catherine approves. She was most upset when my return to Rosings was delayed, but it could not be helped. It was only the knowledge that her own nephew was the cause, that she permitted me the extra time for recuperation. As for Mr. Darcy… I have, of course forgiven him and pray daily that he gives up such a violent sport. Had he injured a man with less than my excellent physical condition…. well, it could have been tragic to be sure.”
To Elizabeth, Mr. Collins’ ability to converse for hours had only been enhanced by his injury. It gave him more fodder for speech. It had been the only point of reserve she had possessed when Charlotte’s invitation had arrived. With only a few weeks before Jane and Bingley’s own wedding, her absence would be inconvenient, but understandable. Elizabeth wished only for her sister’s happiness, but it was bittersweet when she compared it to what she had lost. Mr. Darcy was indeed lost to her. She had pushed him away believing him arrogant, but it was her own pride that had ruined everything. Jane had been most understanding and urged her to accept, with a promise to return by the end of the month. Now, as the carriage turned into a pleasant drive, lined with blooming shrubs, the vicarage came into view. Charlotte, standing beside Mr. Collins appeared happy enough, but how happy could a person be when married to such a man? What newly wed wife issued invitations for houseguests so soon after the wedding? A twinge of unease poked Elizabeth’s mind. Did Charlotte regret her haste?
“Welcome dear cousin! Charlotte has anticipated your arrival greatly; she speaks of nothing else. Do come in and give us your opinion of our humble abode,” Mr. Collins greeted as Elizbeth alighted from the carriage. Smiling in return, she had to admit that the cottage was well appointed and utterly charming. A low hedge separated the house from the road and roses grew unchecked about the front windows. Beautiful enough in itself, but the house was something straight out of a storybook. Mullioned windows stared out in symmetrical contrast to the lodestone exterior as a cap of thatch complemented the exposed chimney. Having a expected a small, plain structure, Elizabeth was pleased that her friend was not living in squalor. Upon entering, the comforts inside only furthered this opinion and for a moment, Elizabeth felt a pang of jealousy. If it were not for the constant presence of Mr. Collins, she would have been delighted to live there. Of course, the furnishings were credited to the excellent taste of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to whom Mr. Collins was eternally grateful.
“As we are regularly invited to dine at Rosings, you will have the honor of meeting her ladyship. She is a most gracious personage, so do not worry about your manners or appearance. Lady Catherine does not expect those beneath her station to hold the same level of deportment. But she has bestowed her approval upon my dear Charlotte.
‘A better choice could not be had; I commend you Mr. Collins’. Those were her exact words.”
Having expected this sort of declaration, Elizabeth paid him little attention, nodding only when appropriate. It was upon Charlotte that her interest lay. Giving all the appearances of being content, Charlotte demonstrated no outward signs of unhappiness.
“Elizabeth is probably tired from her journey. Don’t forget, you must visit old Mr. Cranston today, and the roses need pruning. Lady Catherine will want an account of how well the aphid treatment is working.”
“Oh! I shall attend to it directly … what would I do without you to remind me of important things,” admitted Mr. Collins as he repeated a less lengthy welcome before finally leaving. Once alone, Charlotte led Elizabeth to a well-appointed sitting room where tea and refreshments were waiting. Despite years of friendship, an awkward silence fell between them, as if there was now an irreparable divide that could not be bridged. Finally, Charlotte broke the quiet.
“Lizzy, don’t look at me that way... I assure you; I am perfectly happy. I am mistress of my own home. This room is a private sanctuary that he dares not enter without invitation. There is nothing that I want.”
“What of love?” Elizbeth ventured to ask, knowing the answer, but could not imagine a marriage without affection. To her mind, Charlotte’s marriage did not even have mutual respect.
“Love is not for me… at least not in that sense. That acknowledgement makes Mr. Collins all the more suitable. He is not a demanding sort and is often gone from the house on business. Even when he is here, I encourage his gardening, it leaves me much time for myself. The arrangement is agreeable to us both.”
“I just cannot imagine a life where partners move about separately in the same house.”
“Much like your parents?”
“I suppose that is why I cannot bear the idea.”
Charlotte smiled with an air of secrecy, for she had withheld a very important detail when she had issued her invitation to Elizabeth.
“No, that is not for you. Which brings me to admit that I had an ulterior motive in insisting that you visit so soon. William was against it. I think my husband still blames you for his distress at Longbourn, but I insisted. Mr. Darcy is at Rosings. He is here for the engagement of his cousin, Anne.”
Elizabeth sucked in her breath audibly, a reaction noticed with pleasure by Charlotte. All would be for naught if Elizabeth had become indifferent to Darcy, but it was clear that she still harbored feelings for him.
“I am sorry for the omission, but if you knew he was here, you might not have come.”
“Oh Charlotte, I would not let anyone keep me from seeing you… even Mr. Darcy. I suppose he is to finally marry his cousin?”
“No, that is why you must be here. It is an opportunity to correct whatever misunderstanding is between you.”
“But…I thought there was an arrangement between Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy’s mother… a deathbed agreement.”
“Well, that is Lady Catherine’s word against that of a dead woman, but it seems that she has changed her mind. Or, to be more accurate, Anne has changed it for her. She is to marry Lord Timothy Archibald, of Gallymeade, in Suffolk.”
“N…not Darcy? What does he say to this?”
“I have no idea, but surely there will be opportunity for you to ask him yourself.”
Elizabeth was stunned by the news. Charlotte had been her one confidant when it came to Darcy, pouring out her emotions to one that could hold her tongue. Elizabeth had lost all hope for any possible reconciliation once he had left Netherfield. All she needed to do was survive his presence at Jane’s wedding before putting him out of her mind forever. But now, with no possibility of his marrying his cousin, all her feelings turned in confusion. Did she still want him? Would he forgive her? These questions barely had time to be considered as Mr. Collins burst into the room without knocking. Expecting Charlotte to disapprove, he apologized profusely as he waved a folded paper in his pudgy fingers.
“You are burbling again, do compose yourself and tell us what is so important.” Charlotte chided as if to a child.
“Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh had decided to bestow the greatest of honors upon me. I am to officiate the wedding! We are to go to Rosings this evening to discuss the details. I expect they will want to go with a more elaborate ceremony given their station. Oh! What a thing! I must prepare!”
“Of course, you must, perhaps it will be best if you repair to your study for the rest of the afternoon. It would be most appropriate if you were to compose some suggestions for them to choose. Elizabeth and I will visit Mr. Cranston.”
“Thank you my dear, but what of the roses? They must be pruned weekly…”
“I believe it will rain this afternoon, let them wait until tomorrow. Never prune before a rain.”
“You are always right! And my best suit… the one bought in Meryton. There is a small stain on the left cuff… Lady Catherine will notice it.”
“Go to your study. I shall take care of it, time is wasting.”
Mr. Collins pulled a tarnished watch from his waistcoat as if to verify exactly how many hours remained before they were required at Rosings. But it had not been w
ound in days and stopped working, sending him into another flutter of anxiety.
“Off with you! It is only noon, take this plate of sandwiches and I will call you with time to dress,” Charlotte ordered.
Elizabeth suppressed a laugh as Charlotte pressed the food into his hands and turned him towards the door, closing it firmly behind. It was like watching a mother hen corral a wayward chick. Once gone, they donned their bonnets and escaped before Mr. Collins could return.
“Well Lizzy, it appears that your meeting with Mr. Darcy will take place sooner than expected.”
Elizabeth grimaced, for she had no idea what she would say when she saw him.
~30~
Darcy arrived at Rosings nearly two full weeks before Easter. As this year he had brought his sister, the visit would necessarily be longer than usual. It was going to be a trial of his patience. While a person was expected to unconditionally love their relations, there was no mention of finding them agreeable. Aunt Catherine was no exception, if anything, she was the rule by which the adage had first been coined. On the best of days, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was enough to make a saint swear, but perhaps this time she would soften the callous comments made about everyone and everything. Georgiana Darcy, having never truly known a mother’s love, was terrified of her mother’s sister, but at the age of seventeen, it was time she learned to tolerate the old lady’s criticisms.
“You cannot hide from her forever. Now that Anne is to be married, she will focus her attentions on you. Aunt Catherine is really soft underneath, her bossiness is just a façade for loneliness.”
Georgiana Darcy gulped heavily, her brother’s attempts to assuage her fears had only fueled the fire. She did not want to marry anyone…at least not yet. As it was, the shock of learning that their cousin Anne was to marry someone they had never met was enough. But it was also a relief. Anne de Bourgh was a frail girl and Georgiana could not imagine her running an estate the size of Pemberley, let alone marrying a man like her brother. Fitzwilliam needed a lady with fire inside her, one that would challenge his often stuffy adherence to societal demands. Sadly, when he managed to find just such a person, she had rejected him for the same reason. People never understood Fitzwilliam. Although well educated, he often chose the wrong words, resulting in great misunderstanding of his intentions. She had been so pleased when he wrote about Miss Bennet from Meryton. It had been a long time since he had mentioned any woman at all. If not for the presumed arrangement with Anne, Georgiana had feared that her brother would be seduced by the charming but selfish Caroline Bingley. Charles Bingley was all kindness and generosity; one would never suspect that he was related to such a shrew, but that was often the way of it in families. Chastising herself for the uncharitable thoughts, Georgiana tried to force a smile.
“I will try.”
“That is all we can do.”
Fortunately, Lady Catherine was in a rare mood of benevolence and had showered her niece with every compliment possible. Truth be known, she wanted Georgiana to remain at Rosings after Anne married, but needed to make it seem that it was best for everyone. Fitzwilliam needed to find a suitable wife and that was not easily achieved when one had a young sister to chaperone. Not that he did so in any great form. Catherine de Bourgh was fully aware of the debacle with George Wickham. However, at the time, her Anne had suffered a lung ailment that required her attention. Darcy did his best, but he was not a woman, and could not provide the sort of advice Georgiana needed most. Georgiana must be removed from Pemberley for all their sakes. Now, as they gathered for an early dinner, Lady Catherine proceeded to put her plan in motion.
“Anne dearest, I do hope you don’t mind my inviting Mr. Collins to dine tomorrow. He has been so attentive that I should like to reward him in some way. What do you say to having him officiate the ceremony?”
“Must he? I know you favor him, but he is rather long-winded.”
“Concede me this one wish. I had hoped for an elaborate affair, fitting one of your station and dear Timothy, but it is your wedding. However, he would be so disappointed.”
Anne de Bourgh had barely spared anyone save her fiancé a moment of her time. Completely besotted with one another, their behaviors bordered upon obsession. She would agree to being married in a burlap sack if it meant finally escaping her mother. Nodding in agreement, Anne gave in, using her health as an excuse. Having long outgrown the childhood illnesses that had plagued her youth, Anne still found it convenient at times to get her way.
“I leave it in your hands Mama, but do keep it short. Mr. Collins tires me so.”
“Of course, dear. It will be perfect, trust me.”
Georgiana Darcy stared at her extended family in disbelief. Whatever had transformed the woman whom the servants privately called “Cranky Cate” into a pleasant and doting parent? What happened to the timid, sickly girl that never spoke her mind? Georgiana Darcy, having not seen her aunt or cousin in some time, was puzzled by the change. Was this what old age and love did to a person? Raising an eyebrow in question at her brother, Georgiana was treated to a shrug of equal confusion as Darcy immediately returned to his dinner. He did not care a whit what his Aunt did or said now, for his thoughts were still digesting the private conversation he had with her upon arrival. As for Anne, he was free of any obligation to marry her, and it was all thanks to a stranger.
Looking across the table, Darcy studied the personage of Timothy Archibald, the tenth Earl of Penwick and heir to the fine estate of Gallymeade. On outward appearances, the man was more than deficient in terms of what any rational person would deem handsome. He was tall and gangly, standing nearly two feet taller than Anne. With the grace of a baby giraffe, his elbows and knees were constantly bumping awkwardly about. Even now, he dropped his spoon into a half-filled bowl, sending the contents splashing onto the table linens. Darcy hoped they would be spared the spectacle of watching him dance. If clumsiness were not enough, and although it was cruel to say, his features were something of an accident. With hair the color of mouse fur, it was pasted to his head, accentuating a protruding brow and deep-set watery blue eyes. Had he not heard the man speak, Darcy would have believed he was a corpse.
“Oh, I am well aware of his deficiencies, and they will surely have terribly ugly children, but Anne loves him. What could I say to that? She hardly ever gives her opinion, but upon this, she was adamant. The title does help soften the shock,” Lady Catherine acknowledged honestly,
“I was not even aware that she was being courted by anyone.” Darcy replied, holding his desire to laugh. In comparison to Anne’s delicate form, their wedding would resemble that of a fairy marrying a troll.
“Well you would if you bothered to visit more than once a year,” his aunt snapped with her familiar ire.
“My apologies.”
“Indeed. But apologies are wasted upon me. It is well past time that you married. Pemberley needs an heir and you are closer to thirty than twenty. And what of poor Georgiana? Has she even left the house since that person tried to seduce her? What has it been? Four years at least. May I remind you of your obligations?”
Darcy did not reply, for he deserved the admonishment. He had been a dismal custodian of Pemberley when it came to securing its future for the Darcy lineage. As for Georgiana… it was worse, he had simply forgotten about her. In a rare instance of agreement, he attempted to acknowledge his Aunt’s observations, but she held up a hand to silence him.
“Allow me to finish! It has also come to my attention that a certain young lady of your acquaintance is currently visiting my vicar. A Miss Bennet? Rumors have reached me of your former interest in her, and despite her family’s substandard connections the girl comes well recommended. What did you do to push her away? I expect that Mr. Collins will be considerate enough to bring her along tomorrow. I insist you give her your attentions, should I deem her suitable. Am I understood?”
Ordinarily, Darcy would have ignored his aunt’s suggestions when his personal life was concerned, b
ut simply knowing that Elizabeth… and it must be her… was in close proximity he was disconcerted. How would he contain his emotions in her presence?
~31~
A few hours later…
Elizabeth Bennet dressed carefully for the evening. It was a multipurpose task, First, she did not want to be forced to listen to Mr. Collins lengthy consolations that Lady Catherine had no expectations from people beneath her, and second, perhaps more importantly, should Mr. Darcy be present, she wanted him to be pleased with her appearance. No one would ever have cause to say that Elizabeth Bennet did not do credit to her family or her sex. So, it was with some disappointment that when they arrived, there was no sign of Darcy. Had he refused to be present if she were there? It was not a happy prospect, but Elizabeth was still curious about Rosings Park, enough so to not make excuses to remain behind. Mr. Collins, a man who could not abide lateness, walked at such a pace as to leave his wife and houseguest trotting to keep up.
Refusing Mr Collins Page 11
