by Massey, Beth
When she did not receive any reply to her threat, Lady Catherine stood up and walked to the window. “After seeing your vulgar display from here, I sent an express to my brother in London to determine whether they had ever heard of you. I received a reply from my nephew, the Viscount Wolfbridge, and his report of you is scandalous. He has heard rumours from reliable sources that you are a wanton temptress who demanded money six years ago. He says you seduced someone from one of the best families in England and were paid twenty thousand pounds to leave the honourable young man alone.”
Elizabeth thought of the knife in her reticule. She was certain she had murder in her eyes as she stood toe to toe with Lady Catherine and said, “If you do not unlock this door this instant, I will scream so loud that all of your servants and your family will know just how vulgar I can be.”
Lady Catherine did as she was told, but shouted at Elizabeth’s retreating back, “My son-in-law, my grandchildren will not be aligned with a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, who has greedy designs on those above her. Your sister is about to marry your father’s steward and the nephew of my son-in-law’s housekeeper. Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”
Seething with anger while simultaneously trying to stave off sobs, Elizabeth ran toward the security of the grove. Once seated on the log she had shared with Mr Darcy during his apology, she finally allowed the release of her tears. Half an hour later, she was again calm and sensible and began to plan what she must do. Lord Wolfbridge’s accusation was potentially damaging. Though Lady Catherine could not remove Mr Collins from his position, she could add to the stew of gossip that always seemed to plague Elizabeth. Bethany was at risk as well.
Her first decision was that it was better for everyone to make it appear she had complied. Perhaps, that would stay the tongue of the hateful woman. It was almost time for her to return to Longbourn, and no one would question why she left a little sooner than expected. Returning to Kent would be forever out of the question—just as London had been deemed out of bounds for her six years earlier.
Tears threatened to spill again. She had been indulging in foolish behaviour to which she had no right these past weeks. Elizabeth was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice Colonel Fitzwilliam’s approach. She forced a smile and said, “I did not know that you ever walked this way.”
“I have been making the tour of the park,” he replied, “as I generally do when at Rosings. I remembered this spot from our picnic. I intended to close with a call at the parsonage. Are you going much farther?”
“No, I was only resting here before returning myself.”
They walked towards Hunsford together.
Elizabeth began a conversation with the intention of gaining some advance warning if the speculation of his cousin’s proposal was true. “When do you leave Kent? I heard Mr Darcy mention Saturday?”
“Yes, if he does not put it off again. In truth, I have no quarrel with his plans.” He gave her an enigmatic smile as he added, “you, I believe are the main attraction for him at present; and I would never complain about more carefree time with my cousins before I must be in London. My return to Spain is not for some months.” The thought of what lay ahead threatened to remove the last hint of good spirits from his eyes. He said more cheerfully than he felt, “for now, Darcy arranges our schedule just as he pleases.”
Elizabeth felt some uneasiness with the idea she was the reason for Mr Darcy’s delay. That meant the rumour of his proposal could very likely be true. She winced at the recollection of Mr Darcy persuading Mr Bingley to include a waltz at his ball—and then inducing her to participate. Her discomfort was threatening to become anger. “He does seem to take great pleasure in arranging things. He has at times been very definite in his plans, and thinks nothing of making choices for others. I do not know anybody who seems to enjoy the power of doing what he likes more than Mr Darcy.”
“He most assuredly likes to have his own way,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam with a chuckle, his sense of humour having reasserted itself. “But so do most of us. It is only that he has better means of achieving it than many others, because he is rich. I speak from experience. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”
Elizabeth could hear cynicism and sadness mingled with his laughter. She hoped some contrite words from her might ease his anguish. “Colonel, I owe you and your sister-in-law an apology. Mr Darcy said my disclosure about your brother would have made no difference, but I will forever feel that I should have tried to protect Lady Wolfbridge. Does she know of me?”
Richard had been avoiding contemplating Eleanor, but as he heard the sincerity in the object of Darcy’s ‘hopeless’ love’s voice; he experienced a bit of relief that he had an excuse to speak of her. “She does, but not your name. Edmund confessed some things to her once during an argument—when he was drunk. Her compassion for you is great, and I wish the two of you could meet. You have similar personalities… irreverent and witty. She is unaware of Bethany’s parentage, but she is her Godmother, as I am her Godfather.”
With a feeling she had been too harsh on Mr Darcy; Elizabeth felt the need to pay him a compliment. “Your cousin is an excellent father and a most loving brother. His success has been remarkable in raising Miss Darcy for one so young.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s chest swelled with pride. “He has not done that alone, as I am joined with him in the guardianship of Georgiana. We both appreciate the aid you and your sister have given her in restoring her to good spirits.”
Elizabeth decided to seize the opportunity to query Colonel Fitzwilliam with regards her own sister’s disappointment. “Before I met her here in Kent, I had been given the impression she was enamoured of Mr Darcy’s friend, Mr Bingley. His sisters seemed to assume that connection, although Georgiana has never mentioned him to me. I think I have heard you say you know him and his sisters, Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley.”
“I know his sisters a little. Their brother is a pleasant, gentlemanlike man, and he is a great friend of Darcy’s. Georgiana has no affection that I know for Mr Bingley. Darcy believes her incautiously enamoured with another. That is one of the reasons he insisted she remove to Kent in February. He believes the man too old for her.”
Elizabeth felt another surge of anger course through her body. The Colonel’s assumption about Darcy’s interference in the friendship between Jamie and Georgiana made her remember the role she suspected him of playing in persuading Mr Bingley to abandon Netherfield. As the Colonel seemed unaware of her motive, she felt confident in continuing her intelligence gathering. “My observation is that your cousin is uncommonly kind to Mr Bingley and is always vigilant in looking out for his interests.”
“Yes, I believe he does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something, Darcy told me last winter; I have reason to believe his affable friend very much indebted to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”
Elizabeth flashed the most sweetly innocent smile she could muster. “What is it you mean?”
“I believe it is a circumstance which Darcy would not wish to be known—because he seemed to think it to be an unpleasant thing, if his actions got round to the lady’s family.”
She hoped her eyes were giving nothing away. “You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”
“And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me was merely that he had lately saved a friend from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars. I suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have recently been together.”
Her deceitful demeanour was slipping. “Did Mr Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?”
He said at the time, he persuaded Mr Bingley of the unsuitability of the lady and
said there was strong evidence to support her being a fortune hunter.”
“And what argument did he use to separate them?”
“He did not talk to me of his words,” said Fitzwilliam, smiling. “He only told me what I have now told you. I will add that he seemed a bit unsure whether his conduct was justified, but related that it was too late to undo his actions.”
Elizabeth made no answer, but walked on. Knowing she had uncovered the evidence of Mr Darcy’s duplicity she had been seeking, her heart swelled with indignation.
After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful.
“I am thinking of what you have been telling me. Your cousin’s conduct does not suit me. We have had a similar disagreement in the past. Why was he to be the judge of her intentions?”
“He told me of his similar accusations against you. Is that why you are disposed to believe his action with regard Bingley to be officious?”
“I do not see what right Mr Darcy had to decide on the sincerity of his friend’s inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy. But, as we know none of the particulars, it is not fair to condemn him.” She forced a laugh and a smile as she added, “I suppose there was not much affection in the case, or his friend would not have been so easily persuaded.”
Though her observation was spoken jestingly; the Colonel’s good humour completely evaporated as her words caused him to ponder the lack of constancy in those who bend to the influence of others when making decisions. They walked in silence for several minutes.
On Elizabeth’s part, the portrait of Mr Darcy the Colonel’s words had revealed increased her resentment—to the point that she could not trust herself with more discourse on the topic. She decided to change the conversation, talking on indifferent matters until they reached the parsonage. Once in the solitude of her own room, she began to sort through all she had heard. Surely, it was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than her sister and Mr Bingley. There could not exist in the world two men, over whom Mr Darcy could have such boundless influence—or that Bingley had become involved with another unsuitable young woman since November 26th.
That he had seemed a tad remorseful in the measures taken to separate his friend from Jane meant nothing to her. He seemed to stumble through her life creating turmoil and trouble. She was now certain it had been his persuasive arguments delivered in retaliation for his jealous misunderstanding of her that were the cause of all that Jane had suffered—and continued to suffer. That prideful man’s capricious behaviour had ruined every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.
And now this dubious expert on love and marriage was interfering once again. She knew Georgiana and Jamie well enough to know they were suited. Yes, he was twice her age, but he was a very robust two and thirty. Miss Darcy would hardly be condemning herself to nurse him in the sick room. Her insufferable brother seemed to prefer a marriage of convenience like his for dear Georgie.
The distress she was feeling caused her to skip breakfast. Later, when the post was delivered, she was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from Jane. She told Mary she was determined to remain in her room until she was feeling better. She hoped for good news in her sister’s correspondence—and perhaps it would ease the headache that had been brought on by the morning’s tears. She doubted the letter could end her cramping, but no more pain in her head would be at least one step toward recovery. The visit to Rosings planned for the afternoon must be avoided at all costs. Elizabeth was certain seeing Mr Darcy would be her undoing, so she asked Mary to make her excuses and tell all she was feeling unwell.
The letter was anything but good news. There were once again passages that displayed evidence of Jane’s altered attitude, but toward the end of the letter Elizabeth read something that caused her to panic.
I saw Mr Bingley at a ball Becky and I attended with Lord and Lady Hastings. He was there with his sisters and Mr Hurst. Miss Bingley was busily trying to ignore me. She seemed quite perturbed that I was present, and from a distance, it appeared she was trying to encourage her brother to leave. He did not, but boldly presented himself with one of his amiable smiles and asked me to dance. Not for a minute did I believe his pathetic lies that he did not know I was in town. I was quite cold, as I related the numerous times I had written, and of his sister writing once to relate how extremely busy he was, and that none in his family had time for me. With that, I refused to dance and turned my back on him and walked away. Elizabeth, do you believe that he actually put on a sad face and acted as if he was the injured party.
Sir Gareth Hughes has become enamoured with our Becky, and she with him. His wife died in childbirth four years ago. Lady Hughes had been one of Aunt Gardiner’s closest friends, and was Cousin Susan’s Godmother. I recall you writing from London that you met them. He remembers you fondly and is a close friend of Mr Darcy. Lately all social functions we attend are meant to provide Sir Gareth and Becky an excuse to be in each other’s presence. After I cut Mr Bingley, I could not continue to dance, but I did not wish to leave the ball for Becky’s sake. I had a most enjoyable evening chatting with several new acquaintances. Lady Hastings introduced me to Mr Darcy’s uncle, the Earl of Elderton, and his cousin, the Viscount Wolfbridge. What charming and handsome men! I told them I had met Mr Darcy in Hertfordshire, and the Viscount, in particular, seemed quite interested in our family. Lord and Lady Hastings are long time acquaintances and we have all been invited to Elderton House for a visit on Wednesday next. Becky and I are finally making some quality connections.
Lizzy became almost blinded by fear. She hurried downstairs to see if her sister was still at home. It would be necessary to leave tomorrow so she could be in London before Wednesday. There was no time to communicate with her Uncle Gardiner to send his carriage. The post would have to be her method of transportation. She believed it left at ten from Hunsford village.
Rose said Mary and Mr Collins had left a half an hour ago. Elizabeth was pacing Mary’s private parlour with Jane’s letter in her hand and wondering whether she should go to Rosings and show her sister what was written when Mr Darcy was shown into the room. Elizabeth looked at him in horror.
He knew not what to make of her reaction, but he had rehearsed his words all last night, and was determined to carry out his mission. “Miss Elizabeth, I refuse to repress my feelings for you any longer. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
“No, Please, Please No—Mr Darcy, you must cease speaking immediately! I cannot believe this is happening to me.” Lizzy’s tone and face expressed her extreme exasperation with the circumstances. She saw that Mr Darcy looked stricken.
Swallowing, she cleared her throat and began again—this time she resolved to remain calm. “I have told you many times… I have no intention of marrying. Please accept my apology that I am unable to refuse you politely. I am certain you mean well, but three times today I have been assaulted by news from your family that has left me distressed. One of my sisters is in grave danger and requires me to prepare to leave for London immediately.”
Mr Darcy looked shocked that he was not to be given the courtesy of a polite explanation for his rejection. He continued despite Elizabeth’s request that he not, “I do not understand why you are unable to speak with civility on this topic. I assure you I love you despite my earlier misgivings. You obviously love Bethany and Lewis, and they love you. Our marriage would allow you to be with your daughter.”
“Oh, Oh why am I so cursed? If I was not so distraught, I would laugh at you for once again exhibiting those traits for which you are so famous. Mr Darcy, I begged you not to do this. Even one as obtuse as you, must realize after our last discussion that my resentments are legion.”
Elizabeth sat down in a chair and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them,
he was standing in front of her looking totally perplexed. She resolved to give him the answer he seemed to be requiring. “You confide that you love me despite your earlier misgivings. Well let me confess… I have misgivings about being connected to your disreputable family.”
Mr Darcy took a seat across from her and seemed to be considering her words. As he seemed not to feel the need to speak, she resumed her explanation. “I have been a plaything that has been used and abused by some in your family… and now you have condescended to love me.” A sharp edge of sarcasm crept into her voice. “And from where does all your vast experience with the topic derive… from your marriage to Anne? The night of the Netherfield ball, you looked at my beautiful sister gazing demurely into the eyes of Mr Bingley as they whispered quietly of their hopes for the future; and you knew without reservation, that was not love.” Elizabeth took a deep breath in an effort to keep her resentment in check. “Instead, as you have told both me and Colonel Fitzwilliam, my beautiful Jane was what a ruthless fortune hunter looks like.”
Suddenly Elizabeth felt she was teetering on the edge of despair. She looked at the children’s drawings and Mary’s sampler as she said, “You are right; I do love Bethany and Lewis. I would give anything if the circumstances would allow me to be their mother. I have come to love Georgiana, and I would be proud to be her sister.” Her voice became a wistful whisper. “Sometimes I think under different circumstances I could have loved you.” In an attempt to block the tears that were threatening, she hardened her tone. “But I also love Jane. You broke my sister’s heart… and probably Mr Bingley’s as well. I believe you are now trying to do the same thing to your own sister and Jamie.”
Elizabeth’s fury returned, and she looked defiantly at Mr Darcy. With glittering eyes and raspy voice she fumed, “Your ridiculous aunt corners me and accuses me of luring you into marriage… and of course, it was because she saw me after the picnic. It was you who requested I not attend in disguise. I think your words were that you wanted to see me once while in Kent without spectacles, with my hair natural and in a gown without a collar. Once again, I agreed to your request—much as I complied with your desire to waltz. We both know what a disaster that was.”