“Harington? Harington… I do not recall the name, but then I did not expect to. From where do these Haringtons hail?”
“Sutton Coker, your Ladyship, in Somerset.”
“Somerset…” Lady Catherine paused before a slightly surprised expression crossed her face. “The Haringtons of Sutton Coker House?”
“Indeed, Lady Catherine, the very same. Are you perchance acquainted?”
“We are not, but the estate is well-known; they will be well aware of who I am.” Lady Catherine raised her chin imperiously and looked down her nose at Elizabeth. “How old is this Mr Nicholas Harrington? Is he the heir?”
Elizabeth strove to hide her indignation as such intrusive questioning. “He is the second son, Ma’am, and of an age akin to my eldest sister.”
“Hmmm,” Lady Catherine settled back against her chair. “It would be a fair prospect for you, better than you should really hope for or expect, your circumstances such as they are – oh yes, I know it all. Mr Collins has explained the deplorable situation of your mother’s family and their poor connections; with the further hindrance of the entail and such small dowries from your father’s estate, I believe you will be fortunate to secure any offer.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed in response to this, and she wondered briefly how Lady Catherine would react should she choose to reveal exactly how erroneous her opinion was. Yet, she merely replied, “Optimism reaps its own reward, Ma’am.”
Conscious that Mr Collins had paled significantly during this exchange and was practically on the edge of his seat in his eagerness to divert Lady Catherine’s attention, Elizabeth took the opportunity to excuse herself before the matter could be pursued further. Rising from her seat she curtseyed politely and resumed her assumed activity of a post dinner turn about the room, thankfully ceding the ground to Mr Collins and his book.
Taking advantage of the movement around him, Colonel Fitzwilliam grasped the opportunity to excuse himself from Mrs Collins and headed for the tray of spirits with his recently refilled coffee cup.
The Colonel had a strong ability to engage in conversation with one part of his brain whilst the other remained free to pick up on the nuances that floated around him. Thus it was that though ostensibly talking with Mrs Collins about the merits of spring in the country versus Town, he had been perfectly sensible of the conversation taking place between his aunt and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Adding a few drops of whisky to his cup, the Colonel reflected on his aunt’s words. So it appeared that the Bennet family lacked connections of any value in the eyes of society and that their financial security was tenuous at best – could this be the impediment for Darcy? The Colonel was well aware of the expectations placed upon the master of Pemberley. Though he could never be classed as mercenary, Darcy, like many a gentleman of his standing, had been raised to conform to society’s expectations. Yet Darcy would likely have never anticipated that he might fall for a lady perceived as being outside his own sphere. The Colonel shrugged. If this was the obstacle, he felt confident he would have little difficulty in persuading Darcy to overcome it.
Each moment spent in Elizabeth’s company increased the Colonel’s belief that she was the perfect foil for Darcy – her intelligence, compassion and spirit were everything he needed in a partner in life, and his admiration had only increased upon determining these new things about her: a gentleman’s daughter she may well be, but clearly she was in need of securing a situation. Knowing as he now did that she had rejected a feasible offer of marriage, it also supported her earlier avowal of seeking a match of mutual affection over financial security or gain.
Just then, the doors swung open and Darcy entered the room, and the Colonel’s gaze narrowed as he studied his cousin’s countenance. Was this news to Darcy, though? Had he, in fact, known that the lady had turned down a sound offer of marriage, and was that the reason for his rather strong reaction to Fitzwilliam’s topic of conversation with her?
“Darcy! There you are!” announced Lady Catherine. “It is above time. Your company has been sadly lacking these past days, and I must insist upon you fulfilling your duty this evening.”
The Colonel suppressed a smile and drained his cup as he observed the resigned expression that crossed his cousin’s face and truly empathised. Leaning back against the ornate marble-topped table that held the drinks tray, he surveyed the room thoughtfully. Elizabeth’s amble about the drawing room had come to an abrupt halt upon Darcy’s reappearance, and she seemed to be watching his cousin, unobserved by the man himself as he pulled out a chair for their aunt at the newly erected card table. Then, the ever-present Mrs Jenkinson shadowed Cousin Anne as she led her over to the seat beside her mother.
Several servants milled around trying to respond to his aunt’s rapped out instructions, constantly getting under each other’s feet and as a result drawing their mistress’s wrath down upon their heads.
With a smirk, the Colonel beckoned one of them over and accepted a refill to his cup, requesting at the same time another be brought for Mr Darcy.
Left alone again, he realised the Reverend Collins had moved rapidly to take one of the vacant chairs, leaving only one spare and, determined to prevent Darcy from being trapped at the card table for the remainder of the evening, the Colonel stood up, about to intercede, but was forestalled by the fortuitous sight of Mrs Collins seating herself at the only remaining place. Accepting the additional cup of coffee from the servant, he raised it in Darcy’s direction and beckoned him over.
Chapter Ten
With only herself, Mr Darcy and the Colonel not secured around the card table, Elizabeth realised that any pointed movement in Mr Darcy’s direction would be more than apparent; besides, how was she to remove him from his cousin?
Thwarted but still determined, she walked over to where the small group of players sat and positioned herself between Charlotte and Mr Collins, where she could ostensibly appear to be interested in the game and actually observe the gentlemen in the hope that they might separate.
Unfortunately, by placing herself at such an advantage, she had the misfortune to be stood directly in Lady Catherine’s line of vision whenever she removed her attention from her hand of cards, and within moments of taking up her position found herself once more addressed on the topic of her departure.
“I am struck with a notion, Miss Bennet, for it is always my way to bestow my generosity upon those less fortunate than myself wherever possible.”
Elizabeth said nothing to this.
“My nephews depart for Town on the morrow; if you are to remove from Kent earlier than planned, then you shall travel with them in Darcy’s carriage. I will send a maid with you for your convenience.” With a dismissive nod, Lady Catherine returned her attention to the game.
“Your Ladyship,” Elizabeth began, “I thank you for the attention, but I must refuse your generous offer.”
Lady Catherine’s head snapped up, and Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and met her sharp eyes steadily. She would not be swayed on this, and if need be she would invoke Mr Darcy’s support, for she could think of nothing they both desired more than to be once and for all out of each other’s company, and sharing a morning’s ride in the close confinement of a carriage was not to be borne in the circumstances.
Yet as it happened, Lady Catherine herself turned to the man in question.
“Darcy! I insist upon your taking Miss Bennet with you to London!”
With a suppressed groan, Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, opening them to find that Mr Darcy and the Colonel were approaching the card table, and Elizabeth hurried to explain the matter.
“Your aunt is all politeness, Sir; she has learned that I depart Kent earlier than planned, in but two days’ time, hence her suggestion. But I have declined her offer.”
Darcy frowned. “You are for London, then, not Longbourn?”
“I am, Sir,”
“Miss Bennet is too presumptuous!” interjected Lady Catherine. “It was not an
invitation but an order. You have ample room Darcy, and I am most disinclined to have carriages going hither and thither carrying one person here and two there, all on the same route, merely a day apart; such a waste of resources.”
Elizabeth threw Mr Darcy a beseeching look, silently willing him to understand her and intercede. He held her gaze for a moment, and then turned to face his aunt.
“If Miss Bennet is to curtail her visit with her friend, then surely they will cherish these last few days in company? Leaving so precipitously would rob them of those moments, would it not, Aunt? I know you are too considerate of the well-being of those dependent upon you to cause such deprivation.”
Feeling the need to contribute further, Elizabeth added, “My aunt and uncle do not expect me yet, Lady Catherine, and I will not be able to forewarn them of an earlier arrival.”
“It is clear that someone must be inconvenienced by your change of plans, Miss Bennet; better that it is your relatives than myself, for they are family and more disposed to make allowances.” Lady Catherine paused for a moment. “But I accept your point, Darcy, vexing thought it is!” She eyed the people at the table, who had been obliged to halt their game whilst this conversation took place, and then suddenly returned her gaze to her nephews where they stood by her chair. “But I have the answer! Darcy, Fitzwilliam, you will delay your departure and leave here on Wednesday with Miss Bennet. There. That is the matter determined,” and with a rap of her fan on the table she indicated to her daughter to commence playing.
“Aunt Catherine!” Mr Darcy’s voice drew every eye, and his glance flickered across the faces staring at him before he returned his gaze to his aunt. "Miss Bennet will travel as planned on Wednesday, and we will depart at first light on the morrow. It is neither practical nor convenient for Miss Bennet to change her plans so precipitously, nor can we delay our departure – I have pressing matters of business to attend that cannot be delayed further, and there is the end of it.”
“Business, Darcy?” Lady Catherine boomed indignantly. “For what purpose do you keep a steward, a butler, a valet and all manner of servants? One should not keep a pack of hounds only to hunt the fox oneself. I never heard such nonsense!”
“It is not nonsense, Aunt, but fact. We leave in the morning.” Darcy bowed in general to the company and turned on his heel, returning to his position by the drinks table. Elizabeth followed him with her eyes, noting that he had picked up his cup again though he made no attempt to drink from it. Then, she returned her attention to those around her and, meeting the Colonel’s gaze, she smiled at him. Rolling his eyes at her with a sideways glance at his aunt, he grinned before bowing in general to the table and taking his leave.
Lady Catherine pursed her lips, her eyes flashing and then turned to look at Elizabeth, who assumed as blank an expression as possible.
“Very well. As it is Darcy’s specific wish, I shall not insist upon having my way. Now, Miss Bennet, you have interrupted our game long enough. Find yourself some amusement and leave us to concentrate,” and with a dismissive wave of her hand in Elizabeth’s general direction she turned her attention back to the table, and snapped, “Play!”
Darcy leaned against the table, realising that his altercation with his aunt had revived him somewhat, and he now felt calmer than he had either before or during dinner. Balancing his cup in one hand, he reached for his pocket-watch and checked the lateness of the hour, before replacing it thoughtfully. There would be less than an hour left to tolerate – but was it endurance, or a secret indulgence?
“Mr Darcy?”
He started and hurriedly placed the cup on the table before turning around.
“Miss Bennet.”
Conscious that Elizabeth had thrown a quick glance in the direction of the card table and that her colour was high, he frowned. Then, he recalled her attempt to approach him before dinner: she had something to impart and, observing his cousin, the only other person not seated at the card table, perusing some sheets of music on the pianoforte, he determined that to walk slowly about the room would likely draw less attention than if they stood for some time in conversation together.
With that in mind, he raised his hand by way of illustration and said, “Shall we take a turn?”
She nodded quickly, and they set off across the heavily patterned rug. Conscious that she had approached him, Darcy made no endeavour at first to attempt a dialogue, assuming that she would open the discourse with whatever troubled her.
However, as they made their way past the pianoforte, he remembered her words at the dinner table and, determined this time to be the one to break the silence between them, he glanced at her before saying, “I trust you were in accord with my decision regarding your departure for Town. I would not want to speak for you, but I was under the impression that you did not wish to curtail your visit further by departing on the morrow?”
“You surmise correctly, Sir, for I am shortening my stay by several days as it is.” She glanced up at him and quickly looked away again. “I must express my gratitude for your intervention.”
He negated her thanks with a shake of his head, wishing she would reveal to him why she was to be in Town, what her purpose was and how long her sojourn would be, for he could not in good conscience push for the confidence; yet even as the thought crossed his mind he realised the futility of it. What would be the sense of gleaning such information from her? She had no wish to further their acquaintance wherever they were in residence, be it London, Hertfordshire or Kent.
Gradually, they made their way around an assortment of small tables and ornate gilded chairs bearing legs far too spindly for their professed purpose. Elizabeth glanced up at him a couple of times, and he turned to look at her.
“Mr Darcy, your letter,” she looked down at her hands for a moment, and then raised serious eyes to his. “I must tell you…”
“What are you and Miss Bennet talking of, Darcy? What does Miss Bennet say to you?”
Darcy drew in a frustrated breath as his aunt’s piercing voice reached them. If it were not for the implications upon Elizabeth, he was seriously tempted to tell her, convinced it would silence her for some considerable time, but instead he resigned himself to prevarication.
“We are discussing the art of penmanship, Ma’am” he volunteered, his eyes still fixed upon Elizabeth’s face as they both tried to put a little distance between themselves and the card table, but as his aunt continued to intrude, he felt obliged to halt their progress and turn in her direction.
“Calligraphy, you say? I am, of course, a renowned proficient with pen and ink. No one has a finer hand than I. And Anne would be equally lauded, had she the strength to hold an implement for such time as would be required to fully display her talents.”
Lady Catherine continued thus in a monologue of self-satisfaction, and Darcy turned back and indicated to Elizabeth that they continue walking, ruminating with some discomfort upon what she had been about to say.
“Your letter…” Your letter what? Was an affront? Ill-judged? Destroyed the moment you turned your back? He tried to interpret her expression as she turned and joined him, but there was no hint as to her purpose in approaching him. Yet he had wished to know, had he not, whether she had read it, whether she had paid his words any credence? Drawing on his courage, he decided to try and forestall any further reprimand.
“I must beg your forgiveness for demanding your attention in such an unorthodox manner, but I had not envisaged our being in company again and felt a compelling need to defend myself. With hindsight, I am not certain that I should have succumbed to the temptation.”
Unsure whether she would join him in his self-censure, Darcy met her gaze with troubled eyes. It was some comfort to note that she did not look as if confrontation was her purpose, and when she spoke her voice was subdued.
“I am mortified, Mr Darcy, by what I accused you of, and… and to have been so foolishly blind.”
“Please, Miss Bennet,” involuntarily, Darcy reach
ed out a placating hand towards her, then realising what he was about, withdrew it quickly. “You should not blame yourself for being taken in by that man. He is a true proficient at deception, as I know to my cost.” Try as he might, he could not prevent the bitterness of his tone.
“And your sister, Sir? Is she – is she well?”
Feeling all the awkwardness of the situation, Darcy slowed his pace, staring at the floor for a moment before returning his gaze to hers.
“She is not as recovered as I would wish. It is but months since her… disappointment, and she has had to overcome a dual assault upon her emotions.”
Darcy had come to a halt now and passed a weary hand across his eyes. How bittersweet it was to talk with Elizabeth about this; how he had dreamed in recent months that this was the sort of burden he would be able to share with her; how he had longed for her counsel, her kindness, her concern. Unable to look on her face, suspecting the compassion he would read there, he lowered his gaze once more to the floor.
“A dual assault, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth's voice prompted gently, and he knew he could not resist her.
He ran a hand through his hair distractedly, then raised his head and met her troubled gaze.
“Yes – her disappointment was two-fold, firstly on the count of respect and secondly of love. Not only had she deceived herself over someone she had long esteemed, in that he did not value her character at all, but also she has had to accept that she bestowed her heart where there will never be reciprocation. She has suffered the pain of unrequited love.”
The similarity between his sister’s disappointment and his own did not escape her, and Elizabeth quashed an irrational urge to reach out to Mr Darcy as the portent of his words sank in. They stared at each other for some moments, oblivious to the room and its occupants. Mesmerised, she watched the emotions playing across his face, the sadness in his eyes, recalled again his declaration of loving her and then caught her breath as she saw him glance fleetingly towards her mouth, his eyes returning immediately to hers. Was she not mistaken then? Had he really desired to kiss her yesterday, and was that even now upon his mind?
A Fair Prospect Page 8
