by Jann Rowland
In this way, matters continued for some days. While nothing of overt import was said or done in those days, everything took on a new meaning for Elizabeth as her feelings grew ever more ardent for Mr. Darcy. Then in the middle of the week, something happened which threw Longbourn into chaos.
“The post, Mr. Bennet,” said Mrs. Hill, placing a stack of letters on the table beside Mr. Bennet that morning while the family was at dinner. Mr. Bennet thanked their housekeeper and left the letters for a few moments. Then, after he had assuaged his immediate hunger, he turned to them, inspecting them with a disinterested eye. That was until he picked up the last.
“What is this?” asked Mr. Bennet, murmuring to himself as he raised the letter and inspected the writing. Then he frowned and broke the seal, opening it and reading, and as he read, his expression became more forbidding.
“What is it, Mr. Bennet?’ asked Mrs. Bennet.
As if startled, Mr. Bennet looked up at his wife. For a moment he was silent, and if Elizabeth was to guess, she thought he was not certain what to say. Then Mr. Bennet rose abruptly, grasping all the letters.
“It is a matter of business I must see to at once, Mrs. Bennet. If you will excuse me.”
Mr. Bennet walked from the room, the eyes of his family on him as he left. For a moment, no one said anything.
“Well, what was that about?” asked Mrs. Bennet. “Your father usually is not this secretive.”
It was a stretch of the truth, Elizabeth knew—Mr. Bennet was not in the habit of sharing the details of his correspondence with his family. It was odd, Elizabeth decided, as he had seemed shocked and more than a little worried. There were few things that had the power to discompose her father, for he was usually more inclined to be amused or dismissive when a problem presented itself.
“Papa was almost rude when he left the room,” said Lydia, seeming to believe she had scored a significant point against her father.
“Whatever the case, it is not your concern, young lady.” Mrs. Garret frowned at Lydia, daring her to speak, and when she did not, the companion nodded with satisfaction. “Come—finish your breakfast, and perhaps we may walk to Meryton this morning.”
The possibility of amusement did the trick, and soon Mrs. Garret shepherded the younger girls from the room for their lessons. Mary and Jane went their separate ways and Mrs. Bennet, to the sitting-room, but Elizabeth found she could not rest until she learned of what had discomposed her father so. A few moments later, she was admitted to his study, noting the concern he was not attempting to hide.
“What is it, Papa?” asked Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “I do not know whether to tend to amusement or worry, Lizzy, but it seems my cousin has struck.”
“Mr. Collins?” asked Elizabeth.
“Indeed,” said Mr. Bennet. He threw the offending letter on the desk before her and added: “Here, you may read it if you like. The letter is not from my foolish cousin, but from his patroness. The gist of it is that she intends to support Collins in filing suit against me to wrest possession of Longbourn from my control.”
With a scowl, Elizabeth retrieved the letter and skimmed over it, her anger growing as she read the senseless woman’s words. The letter was written in an elegant hand, the only positive thing which could be said of it, for the rest was no less than a diatribe of demands and threats of legal action. One particular passage caught Elizabeth’s attention.
I have never in my life encountered such wantonly selfish acts as those my parson—your cousin—has related to me. Do you not understand that it is by my advice that Mr. Collins offered you the olive branch you not only spurned but threw back in his face? How can you justify such perfidy, such malignant betrayal as this? Mr. Collins is the rightful heir of your estate, and I think it a kindness he was willing to overlook your offenses against him and offer for your insipid daughter, allowing you to retain Longbourn for your eldest daughter’s progeny. Have you no decency?
That you rebuffed his more than generous offer ensures the estate shall not be yours for future generations, for Mr. Collins has no intention of renewing his offer. Let me be rightly understood, Mr. Bennet—this betrayal to which you have descended is beyond the pale and shall not go unpunished. If you act to reinstate Mr. Collins to his proper position, I shall take no further action against you, though I hope you will apprehend that Mr. Collins will do nothing for your widow or remaining unwed children. If you do not, however, know that the full force of the law shall be brought against you. I will spare no expense in ensuring you are thrown from the estate immediately, that it is put in the hands of Mr. Collins, rendering you homeless.
Avoid this calamity on your family, sir. Do what is proper and give your cousin his due. I await your response. Should you decline to reply within one week, I shall know how to act.
“Is the woman daft?” demanded Elizabeth, holding the offending letter between one finger and thumb as if it was a snake. “What manner of woman involves herself to such an extent when she is not connected to the principals of the dispute?”
Mr. Bennet snorted. “Lady Catherine strikes me as a woman who expects to order the world as she decrees. Though I cannot imagine what my cousin told her, I am sure she believes the matter of Longbourn’s inheritance will be changed because she has said it must be so. I presume you read the part where she insinuates the support of her brother, the earl.”
Though Elizabeth had not read that part carefully, she did remember something of that nature. Mr. Bennet grimaced and turned away to look out the window.
“This business of her promising to see us evicted is nothing more than bluster—the estate is mine until my death, and nothing she says or does will change that.”
“And the entail?” asked Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet remained silent for several moments, drawing out Elizabeth’s concern. When he spoke, his manner was hesitant, as if testing the words for their veracity, but remaining uncertain.
“Your Uncle Phillips assures me we worked within the law and above reproach.” Mr. Bennet paused and chuckled. “Or I suppose that while it was entirely within the law, it could not be termed, strictly speaking, to be above reproach. I did disinherit my cousin in direct contravention of the initial intent of the entail.
“Having said that,” said Mr. Bennet with a smile, “I believe my ancestor would have understood and agreed with my reasons, especially if he was introduced to Mr. Collins. A less likely master of an estate would be difficult to find.”
“And yet . . .” prompted Elizabeth.
“Powerful men have a habit of getting what they want in our society,” said Mr. Bennet. He shrugged, conveying a wealth of meaning. “This reference in Lady Catherine’s letter concerns me. The law is on our side, but will it be if a peer becomes involved? That I cannot answer.”
When Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, a sound from behind her alerted her to the presence of another. Turning at the same time as her father, she noted the presence of her mother and could see she had overheard something of what they had been discussing, for she was staring at her husband, mouth open, eyes large. For a moment, no one spoke, the two in the room shocked to see her, while Mrs. Bennet was struggling to voice her feelings.
Then, in a small voice, Mrs. Bennet said: “Are we to lose our home, Mr. Bennet?”
It was a rational question, the subject one about which Mrs. Bennet had never been rational, and as such, it caught Elizabeth by surprise, when she might have expected hysterics. As a result, Mr. Bennet was slow to respond, which brought about Mrs. Bennet’s nerves, such as they had not seen in more than half a decade.
“Oh, Mr. Bennet!” wailed she. “I knew it was too good to be true! Mr. Collins shall bring suit against us, and that awful Lady Catherine will see we are thrust from our home to freeze in the hedgerows! It is all too much! We should have left well enough alone!”
Mr. Bennet rose at once and approached his wife, taking her by the arm an
d leading her from the room, saying: “Nothing is wrong, Mrs. Bennet. Yes, Mr. Collins has made threats, but under the law, there is nothing he can do. We shall not lose our home.”
“But I heard you!” screeched Mrs. Bennet. “Now what shall we do?” Mrs. Bennet paused and looked back at Elizabeth, who was walking behind them, and said in a loud voice: “Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy! They shall be our salvation! You must induce a proposal as soon as possible, Lizzy, for if you do not, I do not know what we shall do!”
“Calm yourself, Mrs. Bennet!” said Mr. Bennet in a louder voice. “No one shall take our home away from us!”
Before he could say anything more, they entered the sitting-room to see that guests had arrived in the interim. With shock, Elizabeth looked on the grim countenance of Mr. Darcy, noted the shock Mr. Bingley displayed, and most of all, the arrogant amusement and contempt direct at them by Miss Bingley. And the reality of their situation settled in on her, pinking her cheeks and drawing her gaze to the ground. Elizabeth wished she could be swallowed up in the depths of the earth, for Mr. she was sure Darcy had heard every word Mrs. Bennet had said. What must he think of her?
“Well, it seems the polish has rubbed off, leaving nothing more than a pig behind. Typical. There can be no thoughts of alliances with these people now.”
Though Miss Bingley spoke with her usual venom, Darcy could not spare a moment for her, as his attention could not be moved from Miss Elizabeth. Darcy had heard the same words Miss Bingley had, but his interpretation could not be more different from that of the supercilious woman. As Mr. Bennet greeted them with a few terse words and focused instead on his wife, who seemed to realize she had made a social gaffe, speaking softly to her, controlling her outbursts for the moment.
Mrs. Bennet had always seemed soft-spoken in the time Darcy had known her, though he had seen her more animated at times. It seemed there was a more excitable part of her character, though what had occurred to bring it out he could not say. The notion that anyone would take the estate Mr. Bennet had inherited, that his family had owned for centuries, was preposterous in the extreme. Yet the memory of Mr. Bennet and his daughter speaking of the previous entail welled up within Darcy, and he wondered if Mr. Collins had, against all reason, made a play for the estate. It was not something with which Darcy should concern himself, but his esteem for the family, and for the second daughter, in particular, would not allow him to rest without offering his aid. Since Mr. Bennet was still engaged in comforting his wife, Miss Elizabeth was the likeliest source of information.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, stepping toward her. “Has something happened regarding the previous entail?”
“I apologize, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, still refusing to raise her gaze from the floor at her feet. “My mother meant no harm. The entail has long been a fear of hers, and times like these bring those fears back to her mind.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” repeated Darcy in a much gentler tone. Though it could be considered a breach of propriety, he reached out, putting a finger under Miss Elizabeth’s chin, and tilting her head until her eyes met his. “Nothing your mother said offended me, as it is clear that something has upset her composure. I assure you, Miss Elizabeth, that I can spot a fortune hunter from one hundred paces. Had I seen mercenary tendencies in you or anyone in your family, I would have fled long ago.”
Had she not been made of the sternest blend of determination and willpower, Darcy might have thought she would collapse as the relief flowed through her. As it was, she only smiled, peering up at him through watery eyes, then nodding and standing straighter with determination. Darcy allowed his hand to fall to his side, loath though he was to lose the precious contact with her porcelain skin which was, he decided, as soft as it looked. But there were important matters at hand, so he thrust such thoughts to the side.
“Now, Miss Elizabeth, if it is not too much to ask, will you explain to me what has happened?”
“Father’s cousin sent him a letter.” Miss Elizabeth paused and shook her head. “Actually, it was his cousin’s patroness who sent him the letter. In it, amid insulting language and condescending demands, she threatened to bring suit against my father if he does not reinstate Mr. Collins as his heir.”
“But that is preposterous, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “Though I am not a solicitor, I know of the worthlessness of entails. This Mr. Collins must be a dullard if he thinks he may prevail in such a case. Your father must understand this.”
“Papa is of the same opinion,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “But there is a factor of which you are not aware, for Mr. Collins’s patroness referenced peer who is a relation. I have no notion of who it might be, but Lady Catherine sounds like a woman accustomed to having her own way. Will the law stand if a peer involves himself in this dispute?”
Darcy started at the name which slipped from Miss Elizabeth’s lips, and he gawked at her, wondering if he had heard correctly. “I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth, but did you say Lady Catherine? Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park in Kent? She is your cousin’s patroness?”
Now it was Miss Elizabeth’s turn to be shocked. “You know of her?”
“This is unbelievable,” muttered Darcy, wondering at the vagary which had led him to a family whose relation was Lady Catherine’s parson. Turning, Darcy caught Fitzwilliam’s eye and beckoned him over from where he was standing in awkward conversation with the Hursts. Fitzwilliam did not hesitate, coming with eagerness, while Mrs. Hurst sat with Miss Bennet and Miss Mary. Some semblance of order was returning to the room, though he could see Mrs. Bennet was still distressed.
“We have a heretofore undiscovered connection with the Bennet family, Fitzwilliam,” said Darcy when his cousin stepped close. “Miss Elizabeth, will you do me the honor of informing my cousin of the situation with the estate and recent actions of your father’s cousin, including exactly whom he claims as his patroness.”
Though Miss Elizabeth still appeared mystified, she complied, laying the whole of the history before them, but in a short and concise fashion, not given to verbosity or recriminations. As Darcy listened, he noted Fitzwilliam’s concentration, not betraying anything, like any good soldier. That all changed when Miss Elizabeth mentioned the name Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
“But Lady Catherine de Bourgh is our aunt, Miss Elizabeth!” exclaimed he. “She is sister to my father and sister to Darcy’s late mother.”
Miss Elizabeth appeared even less comfortable now that the connection was made known to her, but Darcy hastened to reassure.
“Do not concern yourself with anything you say of my aunt, Miss Elizabeth.”
“It will be nothing we have not thought ourselves,” added Fitzwilliam.
Though seeming surprised at their words, Miss Elizabeth nodded and said: “My father believes they acted according to the law, but if Mr. Collins calls on the assistance of a peer, he fears for what may happen.”
“Then let me set your fears to rest, Miss Elizabeth,” said Fitzwilliam. “Whatever Lady Catherine has said to your father, mine will never involve himself in a matter such as this, and to be honest, I am shocked that Lady Catherine has chosen to do so.”
“Do you think this Mr. Collins is misleading her?”
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “It is possible, though Lady Catherine needs little incentive to impose herself on the lives of others. What confuses me is she has always concerned herself but little for what happens beyond her domain—I would not have thought she would care two figs about her parson’s dispute with his cousin.”
“Perchance she wishes to be rid of him,” said Miss Elizabeth with a scowl. “Mr. Collins is the stupidest, most ridiculous man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. If your aunt should wish to see the last of him, I would not blame her in the slightest.”
“Be that as it may,” said Darcy, amused at her characterization of the parson, “this is a matter with which Lady Catherine should not become engaged.”
A look around t
he room informed Darcy that Mrs. Bennet was now calm and was now speaking with Mrs. Hurst in placid tones, though her agitation was still bubbling under the surface. Mr. Bennet was sitting close at hand, ready to assist his wife should she need it. Of the gentleman, however, Darcy had need, and he asked Miss Elizabeth if she could persuade him to join them.
When Mr. Bennet approached them a few moments later, it was with concern and no little curiosity. Darcy attempted to put the man at ease while relating their interest in the matter.
“Lady Catherine is your aunt?” asked Mr. Bennet, surprised.
“It seems to be so unless there is another Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park in Kent.”
“Please, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam in a pained voice, “one is entirely enough, thank you!”
Mr. Bennet grinned and said: “A difficult woman, is she?”
“You have no idea, sir,” replied Fitzwilliam. “There are few in the family who can tolerate her, and only my father can control her to any extent.” Fitzwilliam paused and laughed, pointing a thumb at Darcy. “And my cousin here, I suppose, since she has always wished for a union between Darcy and her daughter.”
“She claims it is an agreement made between herself and her sister,” said Darcy, eager to avoid any misunderstanding. “As my father informed me there was no such agreement, I have never considered myself bound. My uncle agrees.”
“That is all very interesting, gentlemen,” said Mr. Bennet. “Is there some reason to speak of your relationship with this woman?”
“There is,” replied Darcy. “I would like to be of some use to you, Mr. Bennet, and I propose that I journey to Kent on the morrow to speak to my aunt. Though I do not know why she has chosen to champion Mr. Collins’s cause, I believe when she is informed of the truth of the matter, she will rescind her support.”