by Rowland Jann
It was, perhaps, the most lukewarm thanks that Elizabeth had ever heard from another person.
“You are quite welcome, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Bennet. His sardonic grin spoke to his determination to wring whatever amusement he was able out of the situation. “We have come to consider Mr. Darcy as part of the family. He is quite the amiable gentleman, indeed.”
The look which Lady Catherine shot Mr. Bennet would have caused whole rows of grain to shrivel and die. “I am not surprised. We Fitzwilliams are an amiable lot, I suppose. True nobility ensures the best of traits always breed true, and with Darcy’s paternal line, which, though untitled, is ancient, I must suppose that Darcy has received the very best of all characteristics.
“But I have not descended to discuss the splendid lines of his ancestry. It appears that Darcy’s physician is determined that he remain here for the present, and though I would much prefer that he recover in familiar surroundings, I suppose we must take into account what is best for his recovery.”
“You need have no concern for your nephew, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Bennet. “We will ensure he is cared for to the best of our abilities.”
The superior sniff with which Lady Catherine favored them conveyed volumes as to her opinion of the Bennets’ care. Though she had viewed the lady with more amusement than offense, Elizabeth began to feel quite cross with her continued displays of ill breeding.
“Be that as it may, Mr. Bennet, I shall remain here until Darcy is prepared to quit your house.”
Mr. Bennet started and peered at her, likely wondering if he had heard her correctly. For that matter, Elizabeth was wondering if she had heard the lady properly herself.
“Stay at Longbourn?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“Of course,” replied Lady Catherine, as if inviting oneself to stay at another’s home were the most natural thing in the world. “Darcy requires a beloved family member here to see to his interests.”
“See to his interests?” said Mr. Bennet. “I cannot imagine to what you refer.”
Elizabeth could tell her father was becoming vexed. For herself, the thought of Lady Catherine staying at Longbourn caused Elizabeth’s hackles to rise—she could not help but imagine the scenes which might play out with the lady in residence.
“I am certain I do not need to explain,” said Lady Catherine. “You appear to be a moderately intelligent man, Mr. Bennet. Regardless, you will have rooms prepared for both Anne and myself, and we shall refresh ourselves before dinner.”
“You have my apologies, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Bennet, “but I am afraid we do not have the ability to host you. Your nephew is residing in our only spare bedroom—in fact, Mr. Collins has forced my youngest from her room to stay with her elder sister to provide him with a bed. You can see that it is quite impossible for you to stay here.”
“Mr. Collins may stay in the inn,” said Lady Catherine with an airy wave of her hand. “Then you and your wife may reside in that room, while Anne and I stay in the master and mistress rooms.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes bulged at the mere thought, and Elizabeth, who had rarely seen her father truly angry, was certain that a nasty confrontation was in the offing. What a truly arrogant woman to have suggested such a thing!
The door opened just in time to forestall what Elizabeth was certain would have been an impressive venting of Mr. Bennet’s spleen, and Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped into the room. Elizabeth heaved a sigh of relief; perhaps the colonel could exert some measure of control over his testy relation.
“I am surprised to see you here, Lady Catherine,” said he. “I had no notion of your coming.”
“It seems you did not, Fitzwilliam,” said the lady with a sniff. “You did not see fit to inform me of Darcy’s condition, after all.”
“I assume your errand boy was more than willing to insert his nose into business which does not concern him,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Collins, for his part, did not even have the grace to appear embarrassed. In fact, other than annoyance because of Lady Catherine’s suggestion that he stay in the inn, it appeared the man’s feelings consisted of little more than astonishment, likely because others had dared to contradict his patroness’s dictates.
“And well he should,” replied Lady Catherine. “I know of Mr. Collins’s loyalty. It seems to me you should emulate his example.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted, and if that did not display his contempt for Mr. Collins, the scathing glance he directed at the parson more than made up for it.
“Well, Aunt, shall we argue in front of those who are not members of the family? I assume you have come with the intention of removing Darcy, and I shall not allow it. It seems to me that a quarrel is inevitable.”
“Oh, do be silent, Fitzwilliam,” said Lady Catherine. “I have already spoken to Darcy. His physician seems to agree with you, so I have no choice but to relent. When you inserted yourself into the discussion, Mr. Bennet and I were discussing how they would accommodate us for the duration of Darcy’s stay.”
“Accommodate you?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam. It was clear that he was as surprised as any of them had been at his aunt’s change in strategy.
“Of course. Since Darcy must stay here, I must too.” Lady Catherine turned a critical eye on her nephew. “For that matter, you should be here to watch Darcy, rather than wherever you go to carouse at all hours of the day and night.”
“In fact, Lady Catherine, I am staying with Darcy’s friend Mr. Bingley. I have been here every day caring for Darcy. I decided that it would not be right to impose upon the Bennets when they have already been good enough to assist my cousin.”
Again, Lady Catherine indicated her contempt for his explanation with the use of a huff. “Regardless, I am determined that I will stay.” She turned to Mr. Bennet. “You will prepare your master and mistress rooms for Anne and me. I am certain they will be . . . adequate.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Lady Catherine, but my wife and I will not be giving up our rooms to you or anyone else.”
“Nor should you be required to,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam before Lady Catherine could say anything. The colonel looked at his aunt with distaste for several moments, before he sighed in resignation. “There is plenty of room at Netherfield. I will ask Bingley to extend an invitation to you and Anne.”
“No, Fitzwilliam, you will not.” Lady Catherine actually stamped her foot in her pique. “I insist upon being satisfied. I will stay here. Someone from the family must be here to see to Darcy.”
“What say you, Mr. Bennet?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Though he eyed Lady Catherine with distaste, it appeared like the argument had taken its toll on Mr. Bennet’s equilibrium. He could be as stubborn as anyone, but Elizabeth knew that excessive histrionics wore him down, as evidenced by his habit of avoiding his wife.
“I suppose I could send Kitty and Lydia to their aunt for a few days.”
Lydia appeared affronted by her father’s words, but a quick whisper from Kitty restored her good humor, and even put a hint of a smirk on her face.
“There!” said Lady Catherine, triumph marking her features. “You may stay in their rooms for the duration of my stay.”
Mr. Bennet’s countenance darkened again. “I will remind you, Lady Catherine, that my wife and I have no intention of vacating our rooms. If you wish to stay with us, then you will stay in my daughters’ rooms.” A scathing look at Mr. Collins indicated his disgust for his cousin. “Collins will, of course, still be required to stay in the inn. The sooner he, at least, is gone, the better.”
“Done, then,” said Lady Catherine, though she still appeared less than happy with the arrangements. She seemed, however, to recognize that the invitation was given only under duress, and that she would not be able to extort anything more from Mr. Bennet.
And so it was done. The servants were called to remove the items from their rooms that Kitty and Lydia would require while staying with Aunt Ph
illips, and soon the interlopers—for they were nothing less—were installed in the vacant rooms. Elizabeth could not help but think that this was an extraordinarily bad idea, but there was nothing she could do now. At least the next days would not be dull.
Chapter IX
Elizabeth soon learned the reason for Kitty and Lydia’s acceptance of their removal to the Phillipses’, and it was not something that gave her any peace of mind, considering their likely behavior while out of their father’s home.
“It will be much easier to visit the officers,” was Lydia’s offhand explanation when Elizabeth posed the question of her. “Kitty and I shall have so much fun!”
“Lydia,” admonished Elizabeth. “Remember that you are a gentlewoman and behave accordingly.”
“La, Lizzy, you worry too much. The officers all rave about how charming I am. There is nothing wrong with a little flirting, after all.”
Upon hearing this explanation, Elizabeth actually put her head in her hands and groaned. If they came through this with their reputations still intact, it would be a miracle!
But there was little to be done, as the decision had already been made. That evening, after dinner, the youngest Bennets were loaded with their luggage into the Bennet carriage and sent to the aunt where they would remain as long as Lady Catherine was in residence. Given their words and her aunt’s character, a good woman but one who was as improper as her sister, Elizabeth wondered what would become of them all. And the moment that thought entered her mind, she realized that had she spoken it aloud, she might have been mistaken for her mother. Now that was a horrifying thought!
Life with Lady Catherine at Longbourn was a trial. There was no other way to put it. The lady complained about everything: the size of the rooms, the lack of servants, the coarseness of the linens, and the quality of the meals. Nothing was good enough for her, and nothing was up to her standards.
If she had only complained, however, the Bennets might have been able to simply ignore her and concentrate on their own activities. But not only was the great lady prone to criticizing everything, but she also was not shy about giving directions to all and sundry. Nothing was beneath her notice, and her instructions were nonsensical as often as they contained any grain of logic.
Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth knew, was a rather insecure woman, in more than just her future where the entailment was concerned. She had not come from gentle stock, having been the daughter of Meryton’s previous solicitor—the practice that Elizabeth’s Uncle Phillips had taken over on the death of his father-in-law. As a result, she often did not understand how a gentlewoman should behave in certain circumstances, a fact which had left Elizabeth embarrassed more than once.
Furthermore, she had learned to manage Longbourn without the help of one who knew what needed to be done, and while she was an adept hostess and set a good table, there were things she did not do, sometimes because she could not see the reason for them, and others because she simply did not wish to be bothered. And since Mr. Bennet was more apt to laugh at her than guide her, it often left her defensive, should any criticism be leveled.
It is not to be wondered that with a critical, overbearing shrew such as Lady Catherine in residence, sparks would fly before long. It was also surprising to Elizabeth that she would often side with her mother when the lady of the house and the interloper—as those in the Bennet family began referring to Lady Catherine—disagreed. The first such incident occurred the day after Lady Catherine arrived.
“Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine in her usually forthright and insolent manner, “your servants are a disgrace. Do you know that I was forced to wait a full five minutes this morning before wash water was delivered to my room?”
“I apologize for the delay, Lady Catherine,” said Mrs. Bennet, flustered at the woman’s sudden attack. Situated as they were at the breakfast table, the Bennets all looked at Lady Catherine as if she had sprouted a second head.
“The servants have many tasks to perform,” interjected Mr. Bennet. “I am certain they will fulfill your needs to the best of their abilities.”
“Good servants should know the habits of their masters,” was Lady Catherine’s pompous reply. “The wash water should be heated and ready and delivered to the rooms at the proper time. And the behavior of the footman who finally brought it was absolutely dreadful. Do you know he refused to oblige me when I instructed him on my requirements?”
“I am certain he did not do it intentionally,” said Mrs. Bennet, as she wrung her hands in agitation.
The lady continued to speak loud and long about the deficiencies she saw in the house, and Elizabeth, watching her father as she was, fancied she could see the exact moment when his temper got the best of him. His face had been getting darker the longer the lady had spoken, but rather than speak up or request she hold her tongue, he did whatever he did when annoyed—he excused himself and returned to his book room. There, he was beyond her reach, as it appeared like she had no interest in pursuing him. Mrs. Bennet was her target.
Throughout that morning, Lady Catherine continued to inform Mrs. Bennet of the exact nature of the deficiencies of her management of the house. Mrs. Bennet continued to wring her hands and apologize and try to appease the woman, but Lady Catherine de Bourgh was in a mood to find fault, and find fault she would.
But no one can be constantly criticized for long before finally retaliating, though it took longer for Mrs. Bennet to lose her temper than Elizabeth might have thought. It was that afternoon, after Mr. Bingley and the colonel had arrived, when the situation finally came to a head.
“Aunt, perhaps we should visit Darcy now,” said the colonel.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to have appointed himself as the official check on Lady Catherine’s behavior, as he had stayed by Lady Catherine’s side as if he was still on leading strings. His presence did nothing to blunt the woman’s temper or halt her words, but Elizabeth appreciated his attempts anyway.
“Darcy may wait,” said Lady Catherine, only pausing in her diatribe for a moment. “I am instructing Mrs. Bennet at present.”
“I have been mistress of Longbourn for many years,” was Mrs. Bennet’s frosty reply. “I am aware of what must be done.”
“Mrs. Bennet,” said Lady Catherine with a visible show of patience, “it is obvious to me that you do not know what needs to be done, unsurprising, given your background. I was born the daughter of an earl, trained in all these things since infancy. If you are sensible of your upbringing and need to do your husband credit, you will heed what I say.”
“I think, Aunt,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “that it is, perhaps, time to be silent.”
The colonel had been watching Mrs. Bennet closely, and he seemed to understand that her patience was almost exhausted. But Lady Catherine was determined, for she turned on Colonel Fitzwilliam and informed him, in her most imperious tone:
“You may go to Darcy now, Fitzwilliam. But I shall not be moved at present.”
Then she turned to Mrs. Bennet. “Now, you seem to have no understanding of the need to see to your guests’ needs. I understand that you have never had anyone so illustrious as my daughter and me staying in your home, but that is no excuse. Anne is of a delicate constitution, and as such, I require more from your staff to see to her care. You will assign one of the maids to her care for the duration of our stay.”
“I am sorry, Lady Catherine, but I cannot accommodate you.”
It was almost comical the way Lady Catherine stopped and stared at Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth stared at her mother herself; more than by Mrs. Bennet’s words, Elizabeth was shocked at the tone. She had seen her mother angry any number of times, as more often than not it was Elizabeth herself who was the recipient. Mrs. Bennet’s usual expression of anger consisted of loud exclamations and histrionic displays. But in this instance, her gaze burned with a cold fire, and she the look she bestowed on Lady Catherine was akin to an empress addressing a peasant.
“What
do you mean?” demanded Lady Catherine, her voice shrill.
“I mean exactly what I said,” said Mrs. Bennet. “My servants have much to do, and they cannot spend all their time minding your child.”
“My daughter is not a child!” gasped Lady Catherine.
“Indeed, your daughter is not a child,” replied Mrs. Bennet, “and you should not treat her as one. You and Miss de Bourgh both have your own maids present at Longbourn, and they should be sufficient for your needs. If this is not enough for you, then you may leave—you were not invited anyway. As I said previously, my servants have other tasks they must complete, and they cannot do their work if they are continually at your beck and call.”
“Excellent observation!” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. He shot to his feet and stepped toward his aunt, extending his hand to help her up. Lady Catherine grasped it, but more by instinct than intention, Elizabeth thought. “Once again, Mrs. Bennet, my family and I thank you for your generous hospitality. If you will excuse us, we will now make our way to Darcy’s room, and leave you and your family to your amusements.”
The nod with which Mrs. Bennet favored him was magnanimous, though the effect was ruined by the icy stare she shot Lady Catherine. For her part, Lady Catherine seemed unable to comprehend what had just happened. She walked woodenly as he led her from the room. For a moment after they left, no one remaining in the room spoke.
Then Mrs. Bennet started to laugh, and she crowed exultantly: “I have wanted to do that since Lady Catherine arrived! Is she not the most disagreeable virago you have ever met?”
“Mama!” exclaimed Jane. “I am certain Lady Catherine means well!”
Dear Jane, always attributing the best motives to others. But though Elizabeth was certain that Lady Catherine had entirely malicious intentions, she decided that there was nothing to be gained by speaking against her.