by Riana Everly
The reception at Rosings was everything Elizabeth expected. They were shown to yet another ostentatious parlour by the housekeeper and asked to wait until Her Ladyship was ready. How like her! Elizabeth stewed. To invite people—nay, to demand their presence—and then to have found other occupations more important than greeting one’s guests was the height of rudeness. That trait must run in the family, and not for the first time did Elizabeth wonder about the origins of some of Mr. Darcy’s sentiments towards those he deemed lower than himself.
They had been sitting for about ten minutes when the door swung open and Colonel Fitzwilliam burst through. “Mr. Collins, Mrs. Collins,” how bowed deeply, “Miss Bennet, and Miss Lucas! Please forgive our tardiness! I only heard this moment that my aunt had asked you to attend her for tea, else I would have been present when you arrived. My aunt sometimes forgets that other people exist outside of her experience of them.”
What an interesting notion! Elizabeth had never before considered that one might even think that way, to assume that other people only existed when in one’s presence. It was rather, she mused, similar to how the main character in a play only experienced the secondary characters when they were on stage with him. Was this something Mr. Darcy felt as well? Again, she wondered if whatever it was that troubled her cousin and Mr. Darcy might run in families, along the same lines as large noses or red hair.
The colonel was still apologising for his late entrance and begging the party from Rosings to be comfortable until the tea, which he had just now requested, arrived. “Ah, and here is my cousin!” Elizabeth felt her shoulders stiffen in preparation for seeing Mr. Darcy again, but to her relief it was Anne de Bourgh who entered the parlour. As usual, her face was pinched and her expression was one of distaste, but her words and her tone were all that was polite and welcoming as she echoed the colonel’s apologies and asked whether tea was being prepared.
“Mother finds herself very suddenly and unexpectedly occupied, but she will join us shortly.” She then set about engaging the group from the parsonage in conversation with a skill that Elizabeth had not expected. From her past visits at Rosings, she had imagined Anne de Bourgh always to be cross and sour, with little conversation, but now the young woman was everything charming, and when she smiled, her entire aspect changed. How extraordinary! Perhaps that habitual cross expression was not a reflection of her mood but merely of her physiognomy! And perhaps, having expected a sour personality to match a sour face, Elizabeth had imposed her own notions upon the woman.
With Miss de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam holding court, the entire gathering was rather pleasant and Elizabeth found herself enjoying the occasion rather more than she had anticipated, until the door opened once more and Lady Catherine sailed in, with Mr. Darcy in her wake. Immediately the atmosphere in the room changed. In the moment it took for Lady Catherine to walk across the room and seat herself in the throne-like chair by the fireplace, Anne returned to the timid and sour creature Elizabeth had first encountered, and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s easy smiles and effortless gallantry became stiff formality and cautious glances. The alteration was sudden, striking and most unpleasant.
Intrigued by the glimpse into Anne’s character when not terrorised by her mother, Elizabeth attempted to continue the conversation the two had been having. Anne answered neatly enough, but it was evident that she was measuring every syllable by what she deemed Lady Catherine would approve. So fascinated was Elizabeth by this phenomenon that she nearly missed overhearing the colonel as he spoke to Mr. Darcy.
“You ought to apologise,” the officer whispered. “I know not exactly what you said to her, but I am certain it was not polite.” There was no response from Mr. Darcy, and as Anne had ceased speaking completely, Elizabeth had little difficulty in hearing the rest of the colonel’s words. “At least walk over and offer her a polite greeting. You can be a boor and have a particular talent for insulting people. Take some initiative to be friendly.”
Elizabeth was struck by the similarity of this conversation with the one she had overheard at that first assembly in Meryton so long ago. This time she did not see Mr. Darcy’s eyes meet hers and then withdraw, but she felt his gaze at the back of her neck as he answered, “I cannot imagine what I have to say to her, and even less what she has to tell me. I am not one to make idle chatter with ladies in my aunt’s parlour. Leave me, Richard, and return to your flirtations.”
As these words dropped from those cruel lips, Elizabeth felt her shoulders stiffen and her entire mien shift, just as that of Anne de Bourgh had transformed with the arrival of Lady Catherine. Colonel Fitzwilliam must have observed this, for he now hissed at his cousin, “Darcy, we must speak. In the steward’s office. Now!” The shuffle of boots across the marble floor told Elizabeth that the two men had left the room, and she resisted the urge to feel the back of her neck to ascertain whether her skin was burning from the intensity of Mr. Darcy’s stare.
Horrid man! He was rude, cruel, uncaring, unthinking… he could not even be bothered to say so much as ‘good afternoon’ to her! Well, it was of little matter to her, for resolved never to have another word with the arrogant man, just as she was certain he wished never to be in her presence again. That was settled, then. They should suit perfectly! She fretted and stewed as the tea was served, thankful now for Anne’s lack of conversation and for Lady Catherine’s claim on Charlotte’s time.
As quickly as the Collinses and their guests had been summoned to Rosings, so they were dismissed. Between one sip of tea and a nibble of cake, Lady Catherine announced that the party was over and that it was time to depart. To her credit, Anne looked distressed at her mother’s discourtesy, but said nothing, being reduced once more to a shell in the fierce lady’s presence. Elizabeth’s only regret as she took her leave was that she had not been able to converse with the colonel, nor to say good-bye to him. For the rest, she was more than delighted to be out of the house.
What a strange family this was! For all her grand gestures and her elaborate displays of noblesse oblige, Lady Catherine was nothing but a petty tyrant, ruling through fear rather than through respect. The mistress of Rosings might be obeyed, but she was also undoubtedly despised behind many a closed door. How preferable was Elizabeth’s own father, with his middling estate and the goodwill of his tenants than were Lady Catherine’s great riches and the cowering or scorn of these beholden to her.
Of these, the most poorly done by was Anne, the lady’s own daughter, to whom all the wealth and prosperity of Rosings truly belonged. Although not blessed with fine looks or a hale constitution, those few minutes of candid conversation had proven Miss de Bourgh to have a fine mind and a pleasing manner, which were crushed under her mother’s imperiousness. How the heir to Rosings might have blossomed if only she had been treated with a little kindness!
That word nearly stopped Elizabeth as she walked. Kindness: she had seen the outcome of its lack in Anne de Bourgh; she had seen its liberal application work wonders with Sammy. She had the choice of these, and she chose the latter. It seemed unlikely that Mr. Darcy would deign to be in her presence again—he could not lower himself to deal with one such as she after all—but should the occasion arise, she would strive to be kind. Perhaps one day that cold and cruel man might learn something of the idea and might try some kindness himself. To the unlikelihood of that occurrence, she could only give a bitter laugh.
Chapter Four
A Proposition
Nothing of any sort was heard from Rosings for two days. Mr. Collins fussed about his front garden hoping that Miss de Bourgh and her companion might drive by, and made frequent dashes into the house to inform his wife that nobody was seen driving down the lane. His despondency was almost amusing, but Lizzy knew how devastating a break with Rosings might be to his home and his future. To her, this silence was of little surprise. Anne was too much under her mother’s thumb to issue her own invitations or to accept an invitation into the house, and must surely have been forbidden even to v
enture out with the phaeton. As for the gentlemen, Mr. Darcy surely had no wish to see the Collinses and their company again, and the colonel could have little recourse to visit on his own, were he not to be busy with his aunt’s affairs.
It was, therefore, something of a surprise when, two days later, the doorbell rang and the parlour maid announced two gentlemen to see the ladies. Charlotte bade them enter, and Colonel Fitzwilliam strode into the room with a bright step and bowed in his elegant manner. He had every address of a gentleman, and both women smiled to see him.
“Mrs. Collins, how lovely you look this afternoon. That colour most becomes you. And Miss Bennet, have you been out enjoying Kent’s glorious sunshine? Your eyes fairly glow! Yes I see you have already been out this fine day. Have you had your tea? My cousin and I would most enjoy your company on a short stroll if you are not too fatigued from your earlier walk. The sun is not so hot now and the breeze is most pleasant.” With his lovely smile and inviting expression, it was hard to deny him such a simple and pleasant request.
The ladies put away their papers and embroidery and quickly found their walking boots and bonnets, and so soon were ready to leave the house. The men were waiting in the garden, passing the time in quiet conversation, and did not immediately notice the ladies as they emerged from the parsonage. To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr. Darcy was kneeling on the ground, careless of the stain it would bring to the knee of his buckskins, scratching the head of the same dog she had seen with the colonel two days earlier. She had not, she realised, imagined that the stiff and unbending Mr. Darcy might even be able to kneel! She laughed away the notion and decided to re-apply herself to finding forgiveness for the unwittingly rude man. The recent memory of his derisive “one such as you” still was fresh, however, and it required some effort to smile and approach him. Be kind, she reminded herself. You need not be a friend; only be kind.
Elizabeth greeted him, “Mr. Darcy. And Barghest, if I recall. I did not know, sir, that you were fond of dogs.”
He rose to his feet quickly. “Miss Bennet. I did not hear you leave the house.” He bowed as he had undoubtedly been taught to do. “I am much of an admirer of dogs, madam, and have several my own at my estate. My personal favourite resides right now at my house in London. Lady Catherine will not have him at Rosings…”
“Whereas I,” the colonel interrupted, “care little for what my aunt says and bring Barghest, regardless. Although he does have to sleep in the stables with the horses,” he added ruefully. “Hence my desire to walk with him whenever the weather permits.”
Elizabeth watched Darcy bestow one last scratch on the great hound’s head and noticed that he seemed more at ease than was his wont. She must ask him about this, she mused, but decided she would not renew the unpleasant topic of their previous discussion.
The colonel suggested a short walk down the lane towards the village, a mile or so distant. This was declared a most suitable objective, and the four set off. Colonel Fitzwilliam skillfully arranged to have some pertinent questions for Mrs. Collins about some matters relating to the parsonage and the parishioners she had met, leaving Elizabeth to walk beside Darcy. The dog ran ahead, turning every so often to ensure the safety of its people.
Elizabeth searched for some easy conversation, but Mr. Darcy pre-empted her. “Please allow me to apologise, Miss Bennet, for my words the other morning, and my rudeness at tea. My cousin demanded of me to account for what had upset you so, and when I confessed to the whole, he hauled me over the coals for my shameful behaviour.” He paused and with a smirk, added, “That was an expression he used, and I had to think long about its meaning. I eventually discovered it relates to a mediaeval practice of torturing heretics, and thereby applies to my own situation in being a severe chastisement for unacceptable behaviour.” Elizabeth stifled a chuckle, but said nothing as Darcy continued. “On reflection, I see that he was correct, and that I once again spoke without considering the consequence of my words.”
“Indeed, sir, words have the power to hurt.”
“How so, Miss Bennet? They may insult, but unless one is assaulted with a book being used as a weapon, words cannot cause physical pain.”
“The hurt, Mr. Darcy, is not physical.”
He thought about this for a while, then nodded. “Yes. I understand. The insult that is heard is perceived as some sort of psychic pain, not physical, but an injury to one’s self-esteem nonetheless.”
“You begin to understand, sir.”
He nodded again. “Yes. Perhaps I do. I merely require time to analyse what I am hearing.”
They walked in silence for a moment. Then Mr. Darcy asked, “Am I correct in feeling that you are not entirely pleased to be in my company? What words did I say that most offended you? I would wish to withdraw them, or to explain my thoughts.” It was difficult to maintain anger in the light of such a guileless admission.
“What, if I may ask,” Elizabeth said pointedly, “did you mean when you refused an offer of help from ‘one such as I?’” She had considered letting that day’s conversation remain a matter of the past, but now felt that until she had deciphered what Darcy had intended by the cruel comment, she would never be able to look past his unfortunate comments and formidable expression.
He stared straight ahead, but his voice held a question. “If I offended you, it was unintentional. I meant only that your experience, however valuable, was with a young child. I am not a young child, but rather a grown man of nearly eight and twenty. These situations are surely too different for your experience to apply.”
“The games we played with my cousin would surely be inappropriate for a gentleman of your standing and education, but the general ideas behind them might not be. The key to finding a suitable alternative is to adapt to the situation. Miss Pierce and I spent many hours studying treatises and latest news from preeminent physicians, and we were able to adapt their ideas to Samuel. And if I recall, Mr. Rush advocated—”
“Rush? Benjamin Rush, the American statesman and physician?”
This was surprising! “Yes, indeed, the very same. He has many interesting notions, not all of which sit comfortably with me. Still, his ideas around caring for those habitually taken with drink were most useful in the planning of our lessons with Sammy, as were his thoughts on caring for the insane. Of course, my young cousin is neither a drunk nor insane, but the principles which Mr. Rush espoused were nonetheless transferable to Sammy’s situation, and that of the other lad I mentioned.”
“I admit that I underestimated you, Miss Elizabeth. I had not thought your expertise so scholarly. I was wrong. Forgive me.” His voice held as much contrition as his words, and Elizabeth accepted them.
They walked a few moments longer, and it seemed that Mr. Darcy had something still to say, but although his mouth began to open several times, he remained silent. After a while he stared into the far distance and added, “And I am uncomfortable with the suggestion that I require help. I have managed well enough for seven and twenty years without it.”
Elizabeth could see his free hand clenching and releasing obsessively, thumb and fingers worrying against each other. She did not comment on her observation, but added evenly, “I had not intended to impugn your abilities, sir. You have, it is true, little need for my poor advice or experience. However, although you might not need it, you may wish it, not to compensate for any accomplishments that you may lack, but rather, to let you enjoy company more. Or, perhaps,” she added wryly, “dread it less.”
Darcy’s easy gait began to stiffen once more, and Elizabeth once more sensed his imminent retreat behind his protective walls. Deciding to be bold, she called his attention to this.
“Are you feeling somehow threatened, Mr. Darcy? I see you adopting once more the face you wear in public assemblies. What has made you uncomfortable?”
They stopped walking for a moment, and Darcy took a deep breath from the warm spring air. “You are correct again, madam. I do have my pride. You mentioned the same at Netherf
ield, and you spoke truth. It is a difficult matter to accept one’s failings. As well, I have become so set in my ways, the thought of entertaining some new venture is most discomforting. It provokes anxiety in my breast, and as you have observed, I do not deal well with anxiety. I withdraw, and often say something rude to discourage further discourse on the subject.” He breathed deeply once again. “I feel you would not be putting your time to good use.”
“We should walk again, sir,” Elizabeth glanced at the path behind them. “Your cousin and my friend are approaching.” Darcy offered his elbow, which she took. They walked a few steps further before she reminded him of an incident that morning when last they met.
“You noticed that as we walked, I was becoming heated by the sun, and that I needed to mop my forehead. You are a very observant man, and when you stopped to observe me, you found the clues that suggested that I was growing uncomfortable in the heat. Then you proposed the solution of returning to the folly.”
“I could not permit you to become ill from the strength of the sun.”
She bestowed a smile upon him. “You have demonstrated to me that you have all the abilities you require to become easier in society, and to learn some of the skills you claim you do not possess. You are very observant, as we have noted. I believe I can help you learn to interpret the small details you observe and use that information to ease your interactions with others. If you learn, for example, to ascertain whether your companion is excited or worried, for example, this can guide you in making the next appropriate observation in forwarding the conversation.”