Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I suppose I had not known. It seems strange, what with his engagement to Miss Bingley.”
“What? To Caroline?” Georgiana raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Excuse me for using such informality. Is this true? He did not tell me.” She sat back in her chair, thoughtfully. “Often, Caroline—that is, Miss Bingley—would make hints to me that she hoped for such an outcome, but truly, I have always thought my brother indifferent to her. I can’t believe he would do such a thing.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to say to this either.
“And of course, our aunt, Lady Catherine, is still convinced that my brother will marry her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, but I have always thought that unlikely as well.” Georgiana shrugged. “You must forgive me. I don’t mean to prattle on. It is only shocking to hear that my own brother has spent weeks with me and told me nothing, especially when it concerns something so desperately important. And certainly, when Miss Bingley arrived last night, she might have said something to me. But then she was frightfully ill and didn’t even come down to dinner, so…”
“Oh, excuse me,” said Elizabeth. “Did you just say that Miss Bingley is here? In this very house?”
“Why, yes,” said Georgiana. “She arrived last night, as I said, but why she would travel when she was so ill, I haven’t any understanding. When she found out my brother wasn’t here, she was quite upset. She had heard word from him around Christmas and, I suppose, had not heard that he had departed. I’m sure she would have joined us now if she had not been feeling so poorly.”
Elizabeth, for her part, was just as glad not to have to endure the society of Miss Bingley again.
* * *
In point of fact, when Elizabeth returned back to her aunt’s house, there was a letter waiting from Jane, who had written to tell her just this bit of news.
You may in the course of things meet with Miss Bingley, for she has just traveled to town. She has been acting rather strangely as of late. Bingley feels it is his fault, for he has not been keeping as watchful an eye on her as he might have. He says that he considered it pointless after what had already befallen her. But we have scarce seen her these past few weeks, it must be noted. She has been behaving with some secrecy, and we have no knowledge what she may have been amusing herself by engaging in. Then, most recently, she has had the notion to leave Netherfield, and she apparently had arranged all with Miss Darcy. Bingley is hopeful that she will find her fiancé and that all will soon be righted in their situation, but I remain skeptical. Out of respect to you, dearest sister, I have kept to myself that which you confided in me before you left. I also don’t think my husband need know the depths of depravity to which his future brother-in-law has sunk. He is in such despair about it already, I think that would only serve to make him more wretched, and I cherish my husband’s happiness more than I can say.
Why would Miss Bingley have come to town? Elizabeth wondered. She supposed that Caroline was trying to find Mr. Darcy. Perhaps she thought that her presence might hasten their nuptials. Indeed, it was true that Mr. Darcy was behaving rather badly. To have never told his own sister of his engagement was quite irregular. She didn’t understand it. She wondered if Darcy had some scheme to get out of the marriage to Caroline.
But why should it be such an impediment to him, after all? Elizabeth had done enough reading to know that a married man could stray as much as he desired against his wife without consequence. It wasn’t as if a marriage to Caroline would force him to curb his own wicked behavior. However, perhaps it would be harder to convince unmarried women if he could not give them an empty promise of marriage.
Elizabeth was relieved that Darcy wasn’t in town, and that she wouldn’t have to see him, but there was a sharp sting of disappointment as well. She didn’t know what to make of that, but she had to realize that it was there. Mr. Darcy truly was the devil, she decided. Because even though she knew the depths of his wickedness, she could not make herself stop feeling the things she felt when she thought of him.
There was another letter there as well, this one from Charlotte Lucas—now Mrs. Collins—who wrote to ask Elizabeth to come and visit her. Elizabeth had to laugh a little at that. Apparently, the society of Mr. Collins was already growing tiresome. Elizabeth was not overly desirous of seeing the man again, but she could not deny her friend, and she did miss Charlotte, so she agreed that she would visit after the conclusion of her time in London with her aunt.
That proved to be in mid-February.
Before then, Georgiana Darcy came to call on Elizabeth, and she informed her that Miss Bingley was now staying with her sister and husband instead of at her home. Georgiana had written to her brother to inquire about the engagement but gotten no reply. Georgiana was now worried over all of it, because things were proceeding in a most irregular fashion. She couldn’t imagine what must be going through her brother’s mind.
But when that subject was exhausted, their conversation turned to books, as Georgiana was an avid reader. Elizabeth found that they had much the same taste, and she quite enjoyed Georgiana’s company.
She called on her once more before she left town, and this time, they only talked of books, and not of Mr. Darcy at all, and the occasion was quite agreeable.
The days approached until she would leave to visit Charlotte, and Elizabeth steeled herself for the company of Mr. Collins.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Upon Elizabeth’s first arriving at Hunsford, Mr. Collins was indeed his loquacious self, showing off this and that bit of the parsonage, and explaining at some point or other what Lady Catherine had told him about this room or that. But once Lady Catherine had been brought up, a pall seemed to settle over Mr. Collins features, and he actually fell silent for some time.
It was not until later, at dinner, that he admitted that he was quite concerned for Lady Catherine, who was not herself as of late. Apparently, the Collins family was used to being invited to dine at Rosings on a somewhat regular basis.
“It is not, you must understand,” said Mr. Collins, “as if it is a schedule, or something that we depend upon, for we could not expect that of Lady Catherine, who is such a great woman, after all.”
However, according to both Collins and Charlotte, two weeks had passed without an invitation, and Lady Catherine was also in poor spirits when she attended services.
“Others may not notice it,” said Mr. Collins. “She is a lady of the utmost politeness and stature, and she is not one to wear her heart on her sleeve, so to speak. But I have paid quite close attention to Lady Catherine over the years in which I have known her, and I can see it. I have spoken to Mrs. Collins about it on many occasions, have I not, dear?”
“Oh, indeed, Mr. Collins,” agreed Charlotte, who looked up from cutting her meat with an angelic smile to answer, and then returned to what she was doing. Elizabeth had noted it was much the way with them. Charlotte often added only short proclamations of agreement to any conversation with her husband. But then, he was rather given to filling any silence with the sound of his own voice, so it was likely the path of least resistance for Charlotte, and there was peace in the household. Elizabeth marveled at the strength of her friend. She would not have been able to do it herself. She was too headstrong. That was why Elizabeth was convinced that she would never marry.
Mr. Collins was speaking again. “However, I have seen that she is much quieter than usual, not offering her opinion on matters as she usually does. Why on many occasions, she has given Mrs. Collins advice on her dress or hair style, which Mrs. Collins was quite happy to receive, but there has been none of that as of late, which vexes us both greatly.”
“Yes, I have been despondent over the lack of direction,” said Charlotte, who looked up and smiled again, but Elizabeth could see some amusement in the smile.
Ah, so that was the way of it. Elizabeth began to get a notion of the character of Lady Catherine, and she thought it was no wonder that she and Collins got on so well with her.
They were made for each other, weren’t they? Both people who believed to know better than everyone else what others should be doing. Elizabeth was rather glad that they wouldn’t be dining with Lady Catherine. She was not sure she would be able to keep herself from saying something she would regret. Lady Catherine sounded horrid.
“At any rate, I have inquired as much as I dared after her,” said Mr. Collins, “but my interest has infuriated her, which only leads me to believe that she is indeed going through some manner of ailment or disaster. I wish I knew what the problem could be, for I would be ready and willing to offer all my assistance in any matter. That is, after all, my occupation as clergy.”
Charlotte put down her fork and smiled at her husband. “Yes, dear. I’m quite sure Lady Catherine knows of your devotion and would appeal to you if there was some assistance you could provide.”
“Quite right,” said Mr. Collins, nodding. “Yes, Lady Catherine knows that I am her servant in all things.”
* * *
Mr. Darcy had arrived at Rosings to meet with his aunt two weeks ago. Upon arriving, he had spent one evening with his cousin Anne. The day had been reasonably fair for February, and he had intended for the two of them to walk in the gardens, but once he set eyes on her, he knew that she would be unable to handle the exertion. Instead, they had spoken for about a quarter of an hour, after which Anne had professed to be too tired to talk anymore and had been spirited off to her room.
Darcy was disappointed.
He had always kept the idea of marrying Anne in the back of his head. It wasn’t an official engagement. No agreements had been drawn up by the family, and he was not obligated to marry her, not legally, but he knew that it had been something his mother often spoke of, and he also knew that his aunt depended upon it as if it were a foregone conclusion.
However, Darcy had never been convinced that he was going to marry Anne, primarily because she was young, younger than Georgiana by over a year, and because she was always so sickly. But in the wake of everything that had happened with Caroline Bingley, he had thought it might be convenient to him to claim that he had a prior engagement that he could not break, and to marry Anne at once.
But there was no marrying Anne, not for some time. She was far too young, and Darcy had no interest in wedding one barely out of girlhood. It was obscene.
Upon realizing this, he had gone directly to his aunt and told her that he was engaged to another and would not be marrying Anne.
Whereupon his aunt had refused to hear of such things and insisted he stay with her for some time, and that they would bring up the matter at a later date.
But time was passing, and his aunt was doing nothing to bring up the matter. Nor was she addressing it in any way. She wasn’t even attempting to put Darcy and Anne together much. It was as if his aunt thought that if enough time passed, he would forget about the matter entirely.
One evening, however, after Anne had gone to bed, and it was only he and his aunt together near the fire, both reading their separate books, he decided he must speak to her about the particulars. He had not put up much of an argument to her proposal, but that was only because he had no real desire to marry Caroline, and he wanted to run from the specter of the event. But he was beginning to realize that the further he ran from the marriage, the larger and more awful it became in his mind.
He wasn’t a cowardly man, so he was simply going to have to face what had been done to him, and he would have to go and get it all settled. Once he was married, he told himself that he and Caroline wouldn’t have to spend much time in each other’s society if he didn’t desire it. He told himself that nothing would really change.
Of course, everything had already changed. Losing Bingley’s friendship, making an enemy of his aunt, running from the whispers of society… nothing was the same.
“Listen, I must tell you that I really cannot remain at Rosings much longer,” said Darcy.
Lady Catherine was still looking at her book. She addressed him without facing him. “My dear nephew, I don’t see why you should leave. I would be quite happy to have you as a guest for another six weeks.”
“As I have told you, I am engaged, and I must go and see to that.”
Lady Catherine slammed the book closed. “This again? I thought this idea of yours had been left behind.”
“How could it be? We have only discussed it once, and then you told me not to speak of it again.”
“Because it is ridiculous. You and I both know that you are going to marry my daughter.”
“I cannot,” said Darcy. “Miss de Bourgh is too young and too frail. It wouldn’t be right to marry her now.”
“No, not now, but in a few years,” said Lady Catherine. “It has been decided long ago, while you were yet a child, and—”
“Respectfully, Aunt, it has only been a suggestion. And I cannot wait to marry a few years. I am in a position in which I must marry this woman to whom I’m engaged with some haste.”
Lady Catherine’s eyebrows shot up. “And why is that?”
Darcy turned to look into the fire and said nothing.
“See here, Darcy, this is all very irregular,” she said. “In my mind, there are only a few reasons why a couple would need to marry in haste, and they are all rather scandalous.”
He turned back to her. “I have done nothing dishonorable. I promise you that. But there are appearances…” He shook his head. “At any rate, I have little choice now. I cannot remain here, and I will not be marrying Miss de Bourgh.”
Lady Catherine got out of her chair, drawing herself up. She stretched out a finger, pointing it at Darcy. “I don’t know what mess you’ve gotten yourself into, but I suggest you clean it up as best you can. You have the means to do so, after all. And then, you return here in several years and marry Miss de Bourgh, as you have always been meant to do. I will hear of nothing else, and you will not leave Rosings until I have your agreement.” With that, she swept out of the room.
Darcy stared into the fire again. That familiar feeling of despair overtook him.
* * *
Elizabeth was surprised that she was finding her time in Hunsford to be quite pleasant, Mr. Collins notwithstanding. The truth was that the man had a daily routine that kept him busy and out of the way most of the time. When he was there, he seemed often mollified by Charlotte herself who seemed to have a knack for soothing him and getting him to cease speaking overmuch. Charlotte truly was a wonder, and she seemed quite happy in her new life.
Elizabeth almost envied her. Not for being yoked to Mr. Collins, for that was nothing to be desired, but because of Charlotte’s ability to accept her lot in life and to be satisfied with what she had. Elizabeth herself wasn’t good at lowering her expectations, she supposed.
She wasn’t sure what it was within her that held out for a happy marriage. After all, her own parents’ union was nothing to indicate to her that such a thing was to be hoped for. Her father had married in youth, and had made a match for himself that didn’t suit because of his lack of wisdom. Perhaps she thought that she could be wiser, that she could make certain she didn’t saddle herself with someone who would make her unhappy.
Whatever the case, it was all unimportant now. In her life, she had received offers of marriage from two men, and in was unlikely any other man would ever ask. She had denied them both, and so she needed to take a page from Charlotte’s book and grow accustomed and pleased with the life that would lie ahead of her.
She hoped she would be able to do so. After all, marriage to a man she loathed was far worse than no marriage at all.
There was a week of unseasonably warm temperatures, and Elizabeth took to taking a morning walk and contemplating these things. Sometimes Charlotte walked with her, and sometimes Elizabeth walked alone.
One bright morning, Elizabeth had paused near a pond, surrounded by bare-limbed trees, the ground beneath her feet covered in a layer of dead leaves from the fall before, and she was thinking to herself about how beau
tiful it would be when it was spring. But then someone appeared on the other side of the pond.
At first, she was sure her eyes must be deceiving her, because she could not understand what Mr. Darcy would be doing there. But then, she remembered that he was Lady Catherine’s nephew, and she had assumed he’d left London for his home in Derbyshire, but that she had no reason for thinking so. He had likely been here all along.
Her heart skipped a beat.
From the stiffness of Darcy’s shoulders, he had not expected to see her there either. It was probably more shocking for him, for he would not know of her connection to Mr. Collins.
She stood there too long, and now her heart was beating wildly in her chest, because she had forgotten how it was that Darcy looked, and that virile way that he carried himself, and she could not help but think of him in the light of candlelight, too much of his skin bare, and she began to feel that raging fire start to kindle within her belly. All of that seemed to root her to the spot.
And then Mr. Darcy moved. He was coming around the pond, calling to her.
Still, she was frozen for moments longer, her heart racing so much that she thought she might be in some danger. However, then she found herself, and she gathered up her skirts and hurried back through the woods, trying to get away from him as fast as she could.
He was running after her. “Miss Bennet, please!” he yelled.
She tried to run too, but she was too encumbered by her clothes and her emotions to make much of a good attempt, and he gained on her. She looked over her shoulder to see him dashing after her, dry leaves flying askew in the wake of his progress.
And then he was there, right behind her, and he had taken her arm and stopped her and turned her.
They were face to face.
He was breathing heavily, gazing at her with wonder in his eyes. “It is you,” he managed.
The Unraveling of Mr Darcy Page 10