by Jann Rowland
“Who among you is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Lady Catherine,” said William, standing at his aunt’s entrance, the comical whipping of her head at the sound of his voice proof she had not seen him. “We have no word of your coming. What has brought you here?”
“You know what has brought me here, Darcy,” said the lady, betraying no reaction to the knowledge of his presence.
Then her ladyship’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Georgiana sitting beside Elizabeth. “Georgiana Anne Darcy!” bellowed she. “What are you doing in a company such as this?”
Though Georgiana had often spoken of her fear of her aunt, it seemed she had grown, for her answer was nothing more than a coolly spoken: “My brother and I are visiting friends, Lady Catherine.”
“No, no, no, this will not do.” Lady Catherine stepped forward and said: “The impertinence of these people is affecting you, Georgiana. Return to your room at once and prepare to depart, for I shall take you back to Rosings with me.”
“As always, Lady Catherine,” said William, “I must remind you that Georgiana is my responsibility. You will take her nowhere, for she remains with me.”
“And an exceptional example you have been to her,” sneered Lady Catherine. “I can have your guardianship set aside as I ought to have long ago.”
“Then shall you also set Fitzwilliam’s guardianship aside?” asked William. “Then, if you somehow manage to remove us both, do you propose to also have your brother’s claim expunged? You know my father named him as Georgiana’s guardian if Fitzwilliam and I are incapable of performing our duties.”
Lady Catherine’s nostrils flared, and she glared daggers at William. “My brother should never have left her care to you. Georgiana requires a woman’s touch, not the clumsy guidance of a bachelor.”
“And I mean to rectify my status as soon as may be, I assure you,” replied William. “That is not the point. If my father were to give anyone else the power to assist my sister, it would not have been you, for you did not get on at all with him.”
The reminder of these things was not palatable to Lady Catherine, and given no recourse, she focused on the reason for her coming.
“Those are the first words of sense you have spoken in some time, Darcy. Let us leave this place, so we may publish the accounts of your betrothal to Anne, for it is time that Georgiana had a sister.”
“Let us not obfuscate, Lady Catherine,” said William. “I know why you are here. Your former parson informed you of my engagement, and you have journeyed all this way to object. If you are intent upon doing so, I invite you to go to it and leave.”
“Do not speak to me in this way!” snapped Lady Catherine. “I am your mother’s sister and your closest relation, and I will have your respect.
“Now, which is Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I wish to meet this woman who believes she may take my sister’s place.”
“No, Lady Catherine. I shall not allow it.”
The lady scowled. “Do you not trust your lady not to embarrass you before me?”
“I trust her to withstand you with all the poise in the world. But that does not change my determination that I shall not allow you to abuse her.”
“This is nonsense, Darcy, I insist upon being satisfied.” Lady Catherine’s eyes roved over the group, lingering on Elizabeth and Jane. “Given the resemblance to Mrs. Collins, one of these two ladies must be Miss Bennet. Inform me who at once.”
“Again, Lady Catherine, I shall not. You are wasting your time.”
“Heaven and earth, are you to pollute the very noble lines of Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and de Bourgh? What can you be thinking, Darcy? She is sister to my former parson’s wife! Do you mean to connect our families with the riff-raff of society? What is next, an innkeeper wed to Georgiana?”
“Let me be frank, Lady Catherine, so we may dispense with this farce. There is nothing wrong with the Bennets. The earl approves of Miss Bennet, not that his disapproval would cause me to rethink my position if he did. The Darcys and the de Bourghs are not ennobled, and how does this matter concern your branch of the family?”
“Because it is my branch of the family you are throwing over for this hussy you mean to make the mistress of Pemberley! Is that not reason enough for me to protest?”
“Can you produce a contract which requires my compliance? Otherwise, there is nothing further to discuss.”
The way Lady Catherine’s lip curled informed them all she possessed nothing of the sort. Though she opened her mouth again, presumably to let off an impressive rant, William caught her by the elbow, inducing a rather indecorous squawk.
“Come, Aunt, let us take this from the room as I wish to refrain from further betraying the offensive behavior of my family before my friends.”
Though Lady Catherine protested, William was inexorable, removing her from the room without delay. For some time their voices were audible through the closed door, though Elizabeth supposed it was more correct to say that Lady Catherine’s voice was audible—William’s was an indistinct murmur, rising at times in response to his aunt’s louder shrieks. After a time, there was one last burst of noise, after which the lady’s footsteps echoing off the tiles faded away to nothing. A short time later, William reentered the room.
“So that was your aunt,” said Elizabeth, noting his incensed countenance, deciding he needed a distraction from his angry thoughts.
“I hope it is the last we will see of her,” muttered William in response.
“I cannot imagine why,” said Elizabeth, showing a studied nonchalance. “Why, she seems perfectly unassuming.”
Georgiana giggled by her side, while William gained a little wryness. It was left to Miss Bingley to sum up what they were all feeling at that moment.
“For many months I have wished to make your aunt’s acquaintance, Mr. Darcy. Now, I can only reflect that it is fortunate I have not.”
“Trust me, Miss Bingley; if I could declaim all acquaintance with her, I would not hesitate.”
Chapter XXXIII
“She did not!”
“Yes, she did,” replied an amused Mary to Elizabeth’s outburst. “After threatening to file suit against us for being a party to a breach of contract, she promised to have us thrown from Longbourn into the gutter, never to own land again. I did not laugh in her face, but it was a near thing.”
By Elizabeth’s side, William chuckled, shaking his head, while about the room, the rest of the party looked on with varying degrees of disbelief. Even Miss Bingley, who had been desperate to join the extended Fitzwilliam clan now looked at William as if she did not know him, and at Elizabeth with a hint of pity. It was clear she no longer envied Elizabeth and may even congratulate herself on her fortunate escape.
The subject at hand, that Lady Catherine had gone straight from Netherfield to Longbourn to berate its inhabitants, was one Mary related with a certain hint of relish. While she had never stated so in her hearing, Elizabeth suspected her sister had long abhorred Lady Catherine and her influence on her husband and was now rejoicing that influence was restrained, if not obliterated. Perhaps Mr. Collins would become more tolerable now that Lady Catherine was no longer dictating his every opinion from afar—Elizabeth did not think he would, but stranger things had happened.
“Then what did she say?” asked Elizabeth.
An evil grin came over Mary’s face. “She continued to harangue us for several more minutes, promising every sort of calamity on our heads. When I had endured enough, I ordered her from the house and instructed her never to return.”
The company gasped as one and several raised their voices demanding further information of Mary, but she contented herself with grinning at them all.
“One moment please,” said William, raising his voice to make himself heard over the cacophony. Then he turned back to Mary and said: “While I am not enamored of my family’s reputation being dragged through the mud, I can understand why you might have reacted in such a way. I cannot think Lady Cat
herine took your order with any sanguinity.”
“That is only because you know the lady,” replied Mary. “Her ladyship was most displeased and screamed at me for five minutes complete. When she paused to draw breath, I retained my calm and told her if she did not depart, I would call the constable and the magistrate and have her removed.”
Several winced in response to Mary’s assertion; Mary chuckled and shook her head. “No, you cannot think she took that well either. In the end she departed, though not without many more dire threats of what would happen to us for defying her.”
“What was Mr. Collins doing while you were defending your home?” The question, posed by Mrs. Bennet, showed her disdain, not only in the scathing tone, suggesting she did not consider Mr. Collins an acceptable protector for her daughter, but also in the savage glee with which the lady viewed his humbling.
Mary regarded her mother for a moment while she considered her response, and Elizabeth thought she understood Mary’s dilemma. Though no one viewed the man with anything other than contempt, he was still her husband, and she would not wish to betray his failures before all the company. Then again, everyone here knew what kind of man he was.
“Mr. Collins was . . . affected by these events to a great degree. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was a pillar in his life, and that support has now come crashing down. In time, I suspect he will be happier and better for it, but at present, it is hard.”
A movement by her side pulled Elizabeth’s attention away from her sister, and she noted William sharing a glance with Mr. Bingley. Understanding seemed to pass between them, for Mr. Bingley nodded, though he did not seem enthusiastic. Then William turned back to Mary.
“It occurs to me, Mrs. Collins, as Bingley is already brother to your husband and I will soon be, perhaps a little support and guidance on our parts would help Mr. Collins recover from this ordeal.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Mary, grateful for his suggestion. “That would be of immense help. I do not believe Mr. Collins’s opinion of you has suffered because of Lady Catherine’s actions, and if you were to sponsor him, I am certain he would look up to you in a way he used to with Lady Catherine.”
Elizabeth was not the only one in the room who understood William’s reluctance. However, he also knew that an unfettered Mr. Collins could be a detriment to them. A little effort at present would help restore the man’s equilibrium and give him an alternative source to venerate, one who was not Lady Catherine de Bourgh. That could only be beneficial.
“Then we shall come around tomorrow if that is acceptable.”
“I shall inform Mr. Collins of your intentions,” said Mary, inclining her head in thanks.
“Inform me if Lady Catherine returns or threatens you further.”
“It should not be necessary,” replied Mary. “Throughout her diatribe, Lady Catherine spoke of how she would go to her brother and induce him to intervene. If what you say about your uncle is correct, I should think Lady Catherine will not think to return to our supposed misdeeds.”
William chuckled and shook his head. “I believe you might ascribe too much sense to my aunt.”
With a smile, Mary nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, I shall do that. Now, if I might have a moment with my sisters and mother in private?”
“Of course, Mary,” said Jane before Mrs. Bennet could say anything. “Shall we retire to the other parlor?”
Elizabeth rose and smiled at her betrothed, who returned the gesture, accompanied by a nod. Following her mother and sisters, Elizabeth noted from Mrs. Bennet’s posture that Mr. Collins’s actions still offended her, and though Elizabeth knew her mother could hold to a grudge longer than she should, she understood her point of view. Whether this would be a plea from Mary that Mrs. Bennet return to Longbourn, Elizabeth could not be certain, but she suspected that would be the subject Mary wished to discuss. And Elizabeth could not blame her—Mrs. Bennet’s grasp on sensible behavior was tenuous, but she was not as senseless as Mr. Collins, and any buffer must be welcome from Mary’s perspective
“Mama,” said Mary as soon as they had seated themselves, “I wished to speak to you of your future and the current situation which has forced you from Longbourn.
“Before you inform me of your opinion,” added Mary when Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth to reply, “please allow me to acquaint you with the situation in my home.”
Though Mrs. Bennet did not hold her tongue often, this time she restrained herself and nodded. Relieved, Mary smiled at her mother.
“I shall not say you are incorrect to resent my husband for his actions, Mama, nor do I blame you. This business with Lady Catherine has changed Mr. Collins to a great degree, however, and I expect the atmosphere at Longbourn will be much improved as a result.
“It is not my purpose to persuade you to live at Longbourn again, Mama, as I wish for your contentment above all other considerations. If you do not wish to live there any longer, I understand.”
A slow nod was Mrs. Bennet’s response, for she was considering the matter with more gravity than usual. The three sisters shared glances and waited for their mother to respond.
“Perhaps I will return to Longbourn,” said Mrs. Bennet at length. “At present, however, I wish to see Jane’s new home, and Lizzy has so much to say about her future home, that I should like to see it too.”
“And you will be more than welcome, Mama,” said Elizabeth with a warm smile for her mother.
“I understand,” replied Mary. “I wanted you to know that you may return to Longbourn whenever you wish.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled and nodded to Mary. Through the ensuing conversation, Mrs. Bennet remained silent, offering an opinion infrequently. There was little enough to say, for the sisters spoke of matters unrelated. While Elizabeth had little notion Mr. Collins would become more tolerable in a general sense, she hoped, for Mary’s sake that he would improve.
For the ensuing weeks, as the Bingley family prepared to move to the north, Elizabeth did not notice an appreciable change in her mother’s demeanor. Mrs. Bennet had announced her intention to go north with Jane, and nothing changed her mind. On the few occasions when they were in Mr. Collins’s company, she continued to view him with coldness, as to be expected, only acknowledging him under duress when he said something to her. To Mr. Collins’s credit, he accepted this with unusual philosophy, understanding his actions had provoked her. Now that they were all gone from his home, Elizabeth could not help but suppose he was happy in that respect, though he might have been rethinking that stance now.
As for William and Mr. Bingley, their effect on him had been profound. Elizabeth did not know what words they had exchanged or how firm with him they had been, but after their visit the day after William’s promise, there was a distinct improvement in his manners. It could not be said that he became sensible, for Elizabeth thought nothing would provoke that much of a change. He was, however, more thoughtful, often thinking before he spoke. More than once she saw him stop short when he might have spouted off some of Lady Catherine’s nonsensical drivel, sometimes saying something different, while at others he fell silent.
When Elizabeth overheard William speaking with Mr. Collins one day, instructing him on how one behaves as a gentleman, she could not help but speak with him on the matter.
“Mr. Collins is not a terrible man, Elizabeth,” said he, looking on her with some amusement. “I understand you and most of your family have something to hold against him, and I do not blame you for it.
“Rather, he is a man who has had no guidance of how to be a gentleman—how to be a man, really. He has told us a little of his father and how his father raised him, and it is not pretty; we should all heave a sigh of relief that Mr. Collins did not take the same path with you and your sisters.”
“So, you are taking it upon yourself to train him,” said Elizabeth, fixing him with an affectionate smile.
William shrugged. “Bingley has assisted, and Hurst has had a hand in it too. If we do not instruct
him, who else will take the trouble to do so? And there is some benefit in Mr. Collins’s improvement for us, you know.”
“You are an honorable man, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” said Elizabeth, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Many men would have left him to his own devices, regardless of the connection. Thank you for being a man of conscience and character.”
The aforementioned Hursts departed a few days after Lady Catherine’s appearance, citing their need to return to Norfolk before Mrs. Hurst became unable to travel. Though not the best of friends with Louisa Hurst, Elizabeth was sad to see her go, for she was pleasant and good company. Once the Hursts departed, Elizabeth wondered if Miss Bingley would not revert to something of her former behavior.
Whether it was because of what Mr. Hurst had said to her, the failure of her designs toward Mr. Darcy, or something else altogether, Miss Bingley remained the quiet, reserved woman she had been since arriving at Netherfield. It was true that she sometimes looked on Mrs. Bennet, or even Elizabeth herself, with distaste, but her lack of the words which would have flowed before was welcome. With everything else that had happened, Elizabeth had no wish to fend off a vengeful Miss Bingley.
The days and weeks passed and soon the family was ready to quit Netherfield. Most of Mr. Bingley’s furniture—including a pianoforte he had purchased as promised—had been sent on ahead to their new home, with the family preparing to follow. With the new détente with Mr. Collins, Elizabeth was at liberty to walk the paths and view the vistas she had so often done in the past, and she took full advantage. Though she walked by herself many times, she did not conduct all her wanderings in solitude, for William walked with her as often as circumstances allowed. It was during one of these occasions that a subject, one long-neglected, came up between them.