by Kara Louise
When we returned to Rosings, my master kept the particulars of his visit to himself -- unlike his cousin, who always insisted on enlightening us with every detail. In fact, my master spoke nothing of his visit, nor did he rise to the bait of his cousin’s taunts. But for the following week, a day did not pass that one of the men, oftentimes both, did not visit the Parsonage.
And whilst I was grateful for my master’s willingness to place himself in Miss Elizabeth’s society, I began to doubt whether it was accomplishing what he -- what I -- wished. In the evenings, as we gathered at Rosings, Fitzwilliam’s teasing led me to believe that all was not as rosy as my master characterized his time with Miss Elizabeth to be.
“I certainly find pleasure in their society,” Fitzwilliam offered one evening before Lady Cat had come down for dinner. “Miss Elizabeth is intelligent and lively.” He leaned over and whispered, with a knowing smile to his cousin so that Anne did not hear, “and most pleasing to the eyes, is she not?”
Fitzwilliam stood up and began to walk about the room. “Do you know, Anne,” he said with a teasing glint in his eye. “I know not what to do with my cousin. He insists on sitting quietly throughout the visit, contributing very little.” He looked upon my master with a friendly rivalry. “Unfortunately, he leaves it to me to exhibit evidence of my intelligence to the young ladies and he speaks only when he deems it prudent. So they are left with the impression that they are with a fool and a mute!” He let out a hearty laugh while Anne merely smiled and then looked down at her hands in her lap. Fitzwilliam pointed his finger at his cousin.
“And how often do I catch you sitting with such an absentminded gaze? I truly believe you to be quite bored in their company, though Lord knows, their addition has been most delightful to the society here. I wonder that you even choose to accompany me!”
My master bore his cousin’s mocking words as he always did, silently and without retort. But I sensed he was feeling the effects of it more acutely. And while I did not believe Fitzwilliam suspected my master’s true feelings for Miss Elizabeth, I watched as Anne gravely observed my master’s demeanour and wondered if she noticed any difference in it.
*~*~*
Over the course of the next week, the Collins party was invited to Rosings several more times. It was after observing my master’s conduct during these visits that I deemed it imperative for me to take things into my own paws, if you will. For my master seemed perfectly content, to -- as Fitzwilliam so aptly described it on one occasion -- ‘sit as if he were merely a bump on a log.’
Perhaps, accustomed to the overt advances of Miss Bingley and the ladies of the ton, my master was of the opinion that his mere presence in Miss Elizabeth’s society should be sufficient to indicate his singling her out. I knew, however, that Miss Elizabeth was not like those ladies who judged a man’s worth by the size of his estate. Though I knew my master possessed the most admirable of qualities --ones that Miss Elizabeth would certainly admire -- he did little to offer them for her approval. I knew -- as his most true and loyal companion -- that the office fell to me.
My master maintained a regular habit of rising early and walking about the grounds whenever he was in the country and the weather was obliging. I had occasionally picked up Miss Elizabeth’s scent in certain areas of the park and knew she walked there as well, although the opportunity to meet her had never manifested itself. One morning, I caught a whiff of her scent as we were returning to Rosings and I was quite certain she had just set out.
I surmised that she rambled through the park a little later than my master each morning and pondered how I might delay my master on his walk so that the two might find themselves out in the park at the same time.
The next morning, he arose and we proceeded downstairs as usual, for his first cup of coffee. He normally did not take the time to sit, but walked about the room sipping from his cup. Inspiration came in the form of an idea that would probably put me in -- if you will pardon the expression -- the doghouse, but I knew not of any other way to postpone his walk the few minutes necessary.
As he walked past me, I suddenly jumped up, placing my front paws firmly upon him, causing him to spill his coffee on his waistcoat.
“Reggie!” he exclaimed. “What did you do that for? You know better!”
He quickly took a napkin and wiped off the excess of the spill, scrutinizing me with such an expression of disbelief that I think he knew not what to say.
Exasperated, he called for his man and the two returned to his chambers to change his clothes; my master muttering under his breath, suggesting that my advancing age may be altering my demeanour for the worse. It did not take much time to change his garment, but I hoped that it was long enough.
When he came down, he looked at me in a most disappointed manner. “I know not what got into you back then, Reggie, but that was the most reprehensible thing you have ever done! Had you done that in the presence of Aunt Catherine, she would banish you to the stables forthwith.”
We walked outdoors and I lifted my nose into the air, hoping to catch that wafting scent that would prove to be a certain lady walking about the grounds. My master began to set off in one direction and just as he did, I caught her scent coming from the opposite direction.
Letting out an eager bark, I set off in that direction, not even turning to see if my master would follow. At length I heard his footsteps behind me and another irritated, “Reggie, if you continue to behave in this most disagreeable…”
He stopped abruptly. Suddenly he espied her, walking briskly just across a field from us. Without awaiting his command, and somehow knowing he would follow -- and forgive me -- I set off in her direction.
As I approached her, she seemed wholly enjoying herself. She paused to pick a newly blossoming flower and held it up to her nose to breathe in its scent. She ran her fingers along the branch of a tree, her fingers caressing its new leaves.
She turned away from us to proceed down a shelter of trees, so I let out a few barks to attract her notice. She halted her steps and turned toward us, a smile appearing upon seeing me, but quickly disappearing when she noticed my master not far behind.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” my master greeted her.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.” She leant over, placing her hands upon her knees. “And how are you this morning, Master Reggie?”
I barked in response and after an awkward pause, my master asked, “Would you be so kind as to join Reggie and me on our tour of the park?”
Miss Elizabeth did not appear to readily accept his invitation, however, with a little apparent discomfit, she politely agreed and the two continued their walk. I was exultant that they were in each other’s company, but my high spirits were soon dampened as I realized that rather than engaging in lively conversation and spirited banter, they spent a good deal of their time in silence. Walking opposite my master, I nudged him a couple times with my nose, hoping to encourage conversation, but he appeared perfectly content to walk quietly. Repose and contentment exuded from his person; and from her I sensed an uneasiness and puzzlement that was no doubt due to his silence. My master seemed not inclined to engage her in any sort of dialogue. He continued to stroll with a satisfied expression on his countenance.
At length, Miss Elizabeth remarked that this part of the park was her favourite in which to walk; that she preferred it to anywhere else. I despondently interpreted her manner in informing my master of this as something other than an invitation to join her in the future. But regardless of her intent for divulging this information, my master appeared very pleased.
We turned back towards the Parsonage and it was soon within our sight. As the arrival there would bring an end to the walk, it appeared that my master was finally interested in conversing.
“Are you enjoying your stay with your cousin, Miss Bennet?”
She looked up at him oddly, answering a simple and direct, “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I am.”
“Good. And you enjoy taking solitary walks about t
he park?”
She laughed and looked at him pointedly. “Yes, when I have the chance.”
We arrived back at Hunsford and he released her at the gate to the Parsonage. “Good day, Miss Bennet. It has been a pleasure.”
“Good day, Mr. Darcy. Good day, Reggie.”
As we walked back, his gait was lively and confident. I was of two minds whether he was actually securing her regard. While I prided myself on my knowledge of my master and knew very well that this was his manner of exhibiting particular esteem, I also comprehended that Miss Elizabeth was completely oblivious to his true intent.
By design, we happened upon Miss Elizabeth the following two mornings. Her countenance reflected her increasing surprise that these ‘chance’ meetings occurred. She always greeted me in her warm, cheerful manner, but her greetings to my master could only be construed as awkward, as if she believed each time he had not anticipated encountering her.
He spoke rarely, asking but a few questions that seemed to puzzle her.
“Do you believe your cousin and Mrs. Collins to have found happiness in their marriage?”
“They have what I would consider an acceptable arrangement to the satisfaction of both.”
“What think you of Rosings?”
“It is a grand estate. Your aunt has done much to make it suit her admirably, but I cannot answer for all of it as I am only familiar with a few rooms.”
“But you will come to be familiar with all of Rosings when you return to Kent. It will take merely a few times dwelling there to come to know it well.”
I suspected my master was hinting that she would return next year as his wife -- the boldest declaration he had made as yet, but as I gazed up, an appearance of complete bewilderment -- and no little distress -- swept across Miss Elizabeth’s features. While I eagerly wagged my tail at his rather pointed statement, I sadly believed she did not understand his meaning.
We were too soon at the gates to the Parsonage and they bid each other farewell, each going their separate ways -- and each feeling very differently about the time the two had spent together.
When we returned to Rosings, we found Lady Cat to be highly distraught. Fitzwilliam cast a plea for help to my master by the look in his eyes. She was stalking back and forth across the room. It never failed that at least once during our yearly visits something would happen that would raise Lady Cat’s hackles and thrust her into a tirade.
“Nephew, where have you been? This is most vexing, indeed!”
I must admit that I cowered a bit as her angry gaze was directed towards him.
“Out walking. What seems to be the problem?”
“This is not to be borne! Mr. Collins paid a call this morning… oh, I just cannot bear the thought of it! So imprudent!” She began pacing again and clasped one hand over her heart. In an angry tone, she hissed, “I shall not live to see this union realized. My heart shall fail me before it ever comes to pass.”
My master paled, but Fitzwilliam appeared untouched by his aunt’s demonstrative ranting, even casting a surreptitious smile in my master’s direction.
“Exactly what has happened?” While my master appeared to remain calm, I knew he was apprehensive about what was to come.
“Mr. Collins… he came over right away! He brought intelligence of the most alarming nature!”
My master looked with apprehension at Fitzwilliam, who merely shook his head resignedly.
“What intelligence was that?” asked my master.
Why, Lord Lansing’s son has made a most insupportable offer of marriage! He has asked for the hand of a commoner! He applied to Mr. Collins just this morning about performing the marriage ceremony!”
My master slowly expelled the breath he had been holding. “And exactly who is Lord Lansing?” he inquired, although I am quite sure he really did not care who he was.
“I know I have mentioned them before! They are a highly esteemed family whose estate is nearby. I am quite certain that young man must have lost the use of his reason! How can he even consider marrying her? Does he not know what he owes his family?”
“And who exactly is the young lady?”
“Anna Middleton. No connections, no family alliance, nothing substantial to recommend her. A nobody. I am quite certain she used her arts to draw him in.” She strode to the door and announced that she would be in the library penning a missive to the family expressing her displeasure.
Fitzwilliam whispered to my master as their aunt quit the room. “Far be it for us to ever disappoint our aunt in our choice for wife. Can you imagine her wrath?” Then he gave my master a teasing look. “At least you do not have to fear her censure, as you are to marry Anne!”
My master shot him a glare that reminded me so much of when he was younger and his cousin would tease him. “You know I will not marry Anne!” he countered in a barely restrained whisper. He stole a glance at Anne, who sat motionless in the chair, a coverlet wrapped securely about her and her eyes closed. She appeared to be asleep, but I had my doubts.
His cousin smiled. “So you frequently remind me! But I see no evidence of any other prospective lady who has garnered your favour!”
My master turned away from his cousin, indignantly straightening his shoulders and expelling a frustrated huff.
Defensively, he replied, “I have much to consider.”
“True,” his cousin answered with a laugh. “To do justice to the title of Mistress of Pemberley, it would only do to marry a woman of considerable consequence.”
My master turned slightly, peering at his cousin out of the corner of his narrowed eyes.
“Of course, it does not help that your standards are so exacting. I should wonder that you know any lady of whom you approve,” he spoke teasingly, but unexpectedly, he became serious. “But then, you must also consider Georgiana.”
My master turned abruptly. “What of Georgiana?”
“Your wife shall be her sister. I would only hope that you would take into consideration how the two would get on. Georgiana is still quite shy and impressionable.” Fitzwilliam stood up and came around to face my master. “Considering the influence any potential Mrs. Darcy will have on your young sister, Darcy, I might prove to be an even greater opponent to your marriage than Lady Catherine if I deem the lady unbefitting. Your wife must love your sister as deeply as a sister herself!”
The conversation in which Georgiana had expressed the same hopes crossed my mind and I was quite certain my master was recollecting it as well. He looked down at me and I looked up at him. Such is the nature of our intimacy after all these years. It was apparent that we were both of like minds that Miss Elizabeth would love Georgiana as much as she loves her sister, Jane. Moreover, there was no doubt that Georgiana would love Miss Elizabeth as fiercely.
That evening the party from Hunsford was invited to dine once again at Rosings. Lady Cat had finally calmed down and no further mention was made of Lord Lansing. She apparently had every confidence her missive would be the final word in the matter. But her outburst and Fitzwilliam’s strong counsel seemed to have an effect on my master that I could not properly ascertain. He seemed distracted; however it appeared that he continued to allow himself to surreptitiously enjoy Miss Elizabeth’s company -- at least, to allow his gaze to rest upon her throughout the evening.
That night, as the Hunsford party was driven home by way of Lady Cat’s carriage, I sought out Anne. She was of such a delicate condition during this visit that her frailty demanded that she be secluded in her room at rest for the greater portion of the day. Despite this, she had remained with the party the whole of the evening. I went and sat with her as the guests took their leave.
She gently patted my head and in a knowledgeable but soft voice said, “He is deeply in love with Miss Bennet, is he not, Reggie?” She let out a sigh. “I knew that someday this would happen, but I hoped it would be after…”
She paused, and I felt her hand tremble as it made its way down my back. “I fear for him that
…” She was not able to finish as Mrs. Jenkinson returned to the room to take Anne to her chambers. A weak smile touched her lips and she bid me good night.
*~*~*
My master exhibited his restlessness the whole of the next day. The morning greeted us with a dreary mist and therefore prevented us from meeting Miss Elizabeth on our walk. Lady Cat demanded his diligence and for a good part of the day had occupied him reviewing estate papers with her steward. The late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the windows when Fitzwilliam peered into the study and announced that the weather had cleared sufficiently for him to take his yearly walk about the park.
Lady Cat shooed him off and my master resignedly shrugged his shoulders as he turned his attention back to his aunt and her steward. I was settled down in the corner; the only bright prospect of the day was that Miss Elizabeth would be joining us again later in the afternoon for tea.
At length, we gathered in the music room, anxiously awaiting our guests. Fitzwilliam had returned earlier from his walk with a report that he had encountered Miss Elizabeth and they had a most enjoyable visit. He spoke most animatedly about her and the more he made mention of her, the more on edge my master became.
When the bell rang, all eyes went to the door. The guests were brought in, but three pair of eyes looked beyond the party, as one appeared to be missing. Fitzwilliam, my master, and I waited anxiously for Miss Elizabeth to appear, but she did not.
“And where is Miss Bennet tonight?” demanded Lady Cat, who at length also noticed her absence.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Catherine,” Mr. Collins began as he nervously bowed. “But a headache prevents her from joining us this afternoon and enjoying your most generous hospitality...”
“She has a trifling headache and refuses to come?” Lady Cat inquired with irritation.
Mrs. Collins stepped forward. “She sends her regrets that she is not able to accept your gracious invitation to come tonight for tea. She is truly unwell.”