by J P Christy
Darcy was astounded by her questions and her implications regarding his character. What is this? Nothing less than a condemnation of, of .… Abruptly, his anger was dampened by an epiphany: It is nothing less than the honest opinion of a respectable lady who found herself to be the object of an unexpected and rather graceless proposal.
He read the letter again. And again, noting her care in omitting names. After reading the letter a fourth time, he tucked it into his book, which he placed on the seat beside him. You are braver than I, madam: I merely contemplated writing to you, whereas you put pen to paper.
Closing his eyes, Darcy gave himself over to the storm of emotions roiling in his thoughts: disappointment, anger, shame, sorrow, and confusion. Although he was resolved to burn the letter, he knew he would continue to reflect on Elizabeth’s words. Clearly, her good opinion was lost forever; indeed, the possibility of facing again her was too painful to contemplate. Still, she had given him a useful gift: to see himself through the eyes of a woman whom he had wished to please.
≈≈≈
Ouch! What was THAT? Fitzwilliam’s eyes opened wide when he felt a pain in his foot. Looking down, he saw a heavy book—thank you, Darcy, as it is your book—had landed on his boot before sliding to the carriage floor. He glanced at his cousin, clearly asleep, and then looked again at the book, recognizing it as an extremely dry accounting of the Peloponnesian wars. Noticing a protruding page, he opened the book and saw the page was handwritten.
When Fitzwilliam glanced at the document, a word captured his attention: Colonel. Me? Is this about me? After assuring himself that Darcy still slumbered, he read the letter. Twice. Then he tucked it between the pages and placed the book on the seat beside his cousin.
Fitzwilliam could not have said what surprised him more: that Darcy had proposed or that Elizabeth Bennet had rejected him. Although the letter was signed “a lady,” he had no doubt that she was the author, and he admitted there was validity in the charges she laid at Darcy’s door. His cousin did tend to behave as if he were above his company. And he had been known to utter criticisms which, although based in truth, did not merit mention. Certainly not during a proposal!
But to discover Darcy had separated Bingley from Elizabeth’s sister! Fitzwilliam was ashamed of having repeated the story, even though his cousin was the architect of that disaster. As for Wickham, Elizabeth had the right of it. The fellow was an unrepentant scoundrel, so why had Darcy left the inhabitants of Meryton at Wickham’s mercy, or lack thereof?
He studied his sleeping cousin. Now that you have this assessment of your character, Darcy, what will you do?
5
“I believe it is a woman’s duty to marry.”
“Make haste, make haste!” Mr. Collins ran into the parlor where Charlotte and Maria were sewing baby clothes for a parishioner. “We’ve been invited to tea, and you have only an hour to make yourselves presentable for Lady Catherine.”
Charlotte fixed her gaze on her needlework to conceal her smile from her excitable husband. She knew both she and her sister could be presentable in a quarter of that time. With her head still lowered, she asked, “To what do we owe this honor, my dear?”
“As her ladyship’s nephews have gone, she desires to share her thoughts about their visit.”
Ah, her ladyship is lonely and wishes to have someone to talk at, Charlotte thought, recalling other times when the residents of Hunsford Parsonage were invited to tea after a guest had departed Rosings. “Do not fret, sir. We will be ready in plenty of time.”
“Where is Cousin Elizabeth?” Collins looked around the room as if she might be hiding.
Charlotte said, “She went for a walk, but—”
In an outraged voice, her husband interrupted. “Why is she always scampering off?”
Maria said timidly, “I see Lizzy in the garden. I will fetch her.”
“I shall fetch her myself. You go ready yourself,” he snapped.
After Collins left to confront Elizabeth, Maria looked at her sister in confusion. “What does he mean to ready myself, Charlotte? Is there something special about this tea?”
“You know how committed he is to Lady Catherine, ensuring we show the proper respect for her rank. A curl has come loose from your coiffure, Maria. Fix it and you will be fine.”
As Maria hurried to her room to tidy her hair, Charlotte glanced out the window and saw Collins berating Elizabeth. Her husband was a tall, heavy man of twenty-five who towered over his cousin. Elizabeth regarded him with a tense smile, but she was not cowed by his bullying manner. Charlotte murmured, “For both our sakes, Lizzy, I am glad you declined Mr. Collins’s proposal.”
≈≈≈
“This may be your last opportunity to make a good impression on her ladyship,” Collins warned his cousin. “You leave in a week, you know. Lady Catherine may not invite you to the manor house again before your departure.”
“That is a heavy burden indeed,” Elizabeth replied, struggling to keep her amusement to herself. Conversations with the formidable Lady Catherine, few though they had been, felt like jousting matches rather than pleasant social exchanges. Still, as her ladyship was the patroness of this fool of a cousin, she strove to keep her impertinence in check.
“I tell you this as a favor, Cousin Elizabeth. Lady Catherine is not certain what to make of you. She has noticed a distinct lack of deference in your comportment.”
“I confess I do not understand you, sir. Is there a specific instance to which you refer?”
“Why, um, many instances.”
“Sir, how can I improve if I do not know what displeases her?”
“Well, your … your … your tone. And you look directly at Lady Catherine.”
“Should I not? I look at her so she knows that I am attending.”
“And despite her generous offer for you to practice the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s sitting room, you never have.”
“I did not wish to inconvenience Mrs. Jenkinson with my presence in her private quarters.”
“What you call her private quarters are the rooms she is permitted to occupy by the generosity of Lady Catherine. No, no, no, you are altogether too independent in your manner!”
“Perhaps I should remain here while the rest of you go to tea.”
“What? No! I forbid it!”
Regarding her cousin with wide eyes, she wondered, Oh, Charlotte, how do you bear this dreadful man? Yet, at the thought of her friend, her annoyance cooled. While Charlotte generally managed Collins quite well, Elizabeth knew how spiteful he could be. Thus, Elizabeth dropped her gaze and softened her tone. “I assure you I am aware of the honor Lady Catherine does me. Excuse me while I prepare myself for her presence.” She stepped around Collins and went to her room.
≈≈≈
It was early afternoon in London as the Darcy carriage pulled onto Park Lane, the western boundary of the Mayfair area. Waking with a start, Darcy immediately touched the seat beside him, his fingers eagerly seeking the book in which he had hidden Elizabeth’s letter.
Fitzwilliam noticed his cousin’s moment of panic and guessed the cause. “You are nearly home. Is something amiss? That is just some dry old tome on the Peloponnesian wars.”
Darcy eyes widened in alarm. “Did you look at it?”
“Yes—last year. For the past three years, you have brought it to Rosings. I am astonished you have not finished reading it.”
“The book helps me sleep,” Darcy admitted. “Shall I have the driver take you to Fitzwilliam House or your club or—”
“In other words, I will not be dining tonight at Darcy House.”
“Apologies. I am tired and would like to have the evening to myself, but please do come to dinner tomorrow. You know Georgiana enjoys your company.”
In mock despair, the colonel said, “Take me to Fitzwilliam House, please, which is likely to be empty of all but a few sad servants. Then tomorrow I shall see you and my prettier cousin.”
≈≈≈
At his London townhouse, Darcy was warmly greeted by Georgiana, and they agreed to meet for tea on the terrace. While donning fresh clothing, Darcy discovered he had conflicting feelings about being alone with his thoughts. He had not invited Fitzwilliam to stay because he wished to reflect upon Elizabeth’s letter, but now he realized what he wanted most was to spend time with Georgiana. Her approval and love were beyond doubt; indeed, he wondered whether she admired him too much.
≈≈≈
As usual, Lady Catherine was settled in her throne-like chair in the drawing room when the party from the parsonage arrived. Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson shared the sofa at her ladyship’s right, with Anne sitting at the end closest to her mother. On the sofa to her ladyship’s left, Collins quickly claimed the seat nearest to his patron, and Charlotte and Maria sat beside him.
As the last to enter the room, Elizabeth hesitated. There was no place for her with the Collinses, yet she was not certain she would be welcomed on the other sofa. The Klismos then, she told herself and turned toward the Egyptian-style chair which had been in vogue a few years ago, uncomfortably aware that she would be forced to spend the visit facing Lady Catherine.
“Miss Elizabeth, won’t you join Mrs. Jenkinson and me?” Anne asked. The ladies shifted slightly to demonstrate there was space for her, so Elizabeth sat beside Mrs. Jenkinson, hoping her relief did not show.
Lady Catherine gestured at the large engraved silver tray bearing cups, plates, and small pastries. “Mrs. Collins, would you be so kind as to take care of the tea? I daresay it is Anne’s office, but she is a bit frail after Darcy’s departure.”
Anne gave Charlotte an apologetic look, but both women knew her ladyship would not be gainsaid in this matter. Smiling, Charlotte stood. “I would be happy to, my lady.”
As Charlotte served tea, Lady Catherine declared, “Anne and I feel the loss of Darcy and Christopher exceedingly. How unfortunate, Mrs. Collins, that when your father escorted your sister and Miss Elizabeth to Rosings, he did not remain long enough to meet my nephews.”
“Yes, my lady,” Charlotte said, choosing not to mention that her father, Sir William Lucas, had met Darcy last year in Hertfordshire. She knew Lady Catherine felt annoyed when she was not the first to make such introductions.
Her ladyship continued. “As always, the gentlemen regretted they could not remain, for Rosings is as a second home to them. Christopher’s father, my brother Wesley, is the Earl of Kesteven. Darcy’s late mother, for whom my daughter Anne is named, was my younger sister. We have always been a close family—proud, yes, of our noble history—but affectionate and committed to our duty.” She paused to look sternly Anne.
After an awkward silence, Anne said, “I am indeed fortunate to have my cousins.”
Lady Catherine nodded approvingly. “Dear Darcy was secretly distraught that he could not stay longer. However, his says his sister needs him, although I have never understood why he does not bring Georgiana when he visits. Still, he was very sorry to leave.”
“And why shouldn’t he regret leaving Rosings, a veritable paradise which is graced with yourself and a flower as fair as Miss Anne?” Collins said. “Has a date been set for … well, as a clergyman, I look forward to presiding over a wedding which will surely be the most splendid event in the county in many a year.”
Elizabeth saw Anne wince at Mrs. Jenkinson, who responded by lightly tapping her finger on Anne’s hand where it rested on the sofa between them. Although the gesture was brief, it seemed to reassure Anne.
Lady Catherine glared at her parson. “You are very presumptuous, sir!”
To break the awkward silence which followed, Elizabeth asked of no one in particular, “Is the weather at Rosings always so warm at this time of year?”
“Yes. No. Oh, I suppose it is,” Lady Catherine replied testily. “Why do you ask, Miss Bennet?” Her mood had shifted from regret over her nephews’ departure to anger at Collins’s remarks to a sour incivility.
“As this is my first visit, I am trying to sketch the character of Kent before I return home.”
“You go to London in a week, I am told,” Lady Catherine said.
“Yes, my lady. I have an aunt and uncle and cousins there of whom I am very fond.”
“Have you had a London season yet? You are, I believe, a gentleman’s daughter.”
You know full well that I am, Elizabeth thought, but she kept her expression neutral and her tone light. “Yes, but I have not had the pleasure of a London season.”
“How do you expect to find a husband? Is there such an excess of eligible bachelors in Hertfordshire?” Lady Catherine asked, her tone mocking. “No, I suppose not. If there were, you and your eldest sister would be married by now, and Mrs. Collins would not have been on the shelf until her twenty-seventh year.”
What is this spiteful woman about? Elizabeth was more annoyed by the slights flung at Jane and Charlotte than she was for herself. “It is true that the wars on the Continent have reduced the number of men seeking wives. Yet, if a woman does not make a match but has a useful, happy life among her family and friends, I cannot find it in me to pity her.”
Frowning, Lady Catherine turned to Maria. “You are sixteen, are you not, Miss Lucas?”
“Ye-yes, your ladyship,” Maria stammered.
“Do you wish to be married?”
“Someday. I am very young,” Maria said, her terrified voice scarcely more than a whisper.
After giving the other females a dismissive look, Lady Catherine addressed Charlotte. “You and I, Mrs. Collins, seem to be the only ladies here who truly understand the importance of being a wife. Everything I do, I do for the honor of Rosings and for Anne. I only want what is best for my daughter.”
Annoyed that her mother had overlooked Mrs. Jenkinson’s status as a once-married woman, Anne opened her mouth to protest, but her companion tapped her hand again, this time as a caution. Although Lady Catherine did not see Mrs. Jenkinson’s gesture, she noticed that her daughter seemed to have something to say. “Well, Anne?”
“I suddenly realized I had not answered Miss Elizabeth’s question about the weather.”
“Please do tell me your thoughts, Miss De Bourgh.”
“Well, it has been wetter this year than in past years, so there is a greater than usual profusion of blossoms in our garden now.”
“Your garden is one of the most attractive elements of your lovely estate,” Elizabeth said.
“Thank you,” Anne said.
“It is I who must thank you for your hospitality—and my dear friend Charlotte and my cousin, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said, hoping her compliments would relieve some of the tension.
Lady Catherine, however, was not done with the topic of marriage. “Do you truly believe, Miss Elizabeth, you could be satisfied as a spinster living on the largesse of a family member and merely being ‘useful’ in some way or another?”
Collins anxiously offered the opinion he believed his patroness wanted to hear—an opinion he shared. “My cousin is naïve, a little foolish, perhaps, but she means no disrespect, your ladyship. As Scripture tells us, ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.’ I believe this to be true with all my heart.”
You are an idiot and Lady Catherine is a bully, and I believe that to be true with all my heart! Elizabeth thought. Yet, she smiled and said, “I confess, your ladyship, I am still learning about myself. However, I believe I speak for all of us when I say you are an inspiration, in part because of the assistance you provide to families in the neighborhood. I am thinking now of the governesses you have placed, which you have mentioned to us. Thus, being of service to one’s community must surely be of value in the same manner as being of service to a spouse.”
“You give your opinions most decidedly for a girl who is not yet one-and-twenty,” Lady Catherine said disapprovingly. “If a lady is
unable to marry because of a lack of acceptable suitors or dowry, well, perhaps that is a problem not of her making. But when a lady has the opportunity to marry, she is a fool if she chooses instead to be of service to her community. Indeed, I believe it is a woman’s duty to marry.” She ended her speech with a sharp look at Anne.
“If one is fortunate, one can be both a wife and a useful participant in one’s community,” Elizabeth said. “I have heard Mr. Collins’s parishioners give glowing praise to Charlotte.”
Mr. Collins looked pleased. “I know Charlotte is as happy to hear your kind words as I am.”
“Your wife’s good works reflect well on both Hunsford Parsonage and Rosings.”
“Ah, another decided opinion! Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” Lady Catherine growled.
“My pleasure, your ladyship,” Elizabeth said, lowering her gaze in insincere humility.
“Unfortunately, I have a headache,” Lady Catherine declared. “I would like you all to leave now. Mrs. Jenkinson, ring for my maid. Anne, farewell our guests.”
The Hunsford Parsonage party stood, and the ladies curtsied while Collins bowed so deeply that Elizabeth thought he might topple forward; indeed, she hoped he would.
